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badnoahmens · 11 months

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You’re Mine

Noah Sebastian x Reader

3.6k words.

A/N: jealous Noah has me feeling strong feelings. Smutty shit so 18+ only. Wrote this instead of working on higher priority WIPs.

You twist the handle for the hot water off, steam being the only thing that filled the small shower around you now. After the long day you had, a nice, hot shower was the only thing that seemed to help take the edge off. With a sigh, you step from the warmth surrounding you, reaching for the towel and swiftly tucking in the side to preserve your modesty.

As you exit from the bathroom, you swipe meaninglessly through your phone, scrolling through photos posted from friends and the odd targeted advertisement. With a small ding a new notification graces the top of your screen. An old friend of yours, Patrick, that you had kept in touch with throughout the years, had recently reached out and was sending memes he thought you would like. Seeing as the two of you had similar jobs, they were mostly focused on that. Innocent enough, but it wasn’t worth looking at now.

Without taking much notice of your surroundings, you walk between the bathroom and into the kitchen in search of a snack to quell your cravings. Noah was leaning on the counter in the middle of the kitchen, elbows propping up with one hand curled into a fist under his chin, the other scrolling through something on his phone. His eyes were slightly glazed over, a side effect of the doom scrolling that he often fell into. You side-eye him as you walk past, pulling an unimpressed face as you responsibly reach for an apple.

The bite you take makes a loud crunch that is the only sound that breaks the silence in the room. The chewing that follows is equally as loud and disturbing, echoing as an irritating wet, mushy slurp. You kept your eyes on Noah as you took a second loud bite from the apple, knowing full well he loathes the sound.

Another scroll with his thumb flashes bright colours and fast-moving videos on his phone, still unaware of your presence.

A third bite of the apple, this one finally earning a reaction. His head slowly turns, pivoting on the hand that he still has balancing under his chin, his eyes landing on you as you take a fourth, menacingly slow and obnoxiously loud bite.

And then it is a stare-down. You refuse to let up, keeping a blank expression on your face as you grind down, meticulously masticating the organic surgery fruit. Noah squinted his eyes, knowing full well that it was your intention to bother him. He clicks his phone so the screen locks, and places it gently on the counter.

“Alright! That’s it!” he finally calls as you lift the apple, almost gone now, to your mouth dramatically slowly for another bite, although you never get to take it. Noah stands and strides over to you, snatching the apple from your hands, tossing it into the bin that sat in the corner of the room. It was immediately after that you were tossed over his shoulder, flailing in a panic. He turned on his heels and speed-walks to the bedroom. You bounced slightly as the pace he held wasn’t one that was all that graceful. He was laughing maniacally at your feeble attempts to squirm from his grasp. You would never tell him that you weren’t actually trying.

With a jostle and a thud, he dumps you on your back, the soft mattress bouncing below you. You fight playfully, trying your best to catch Noah’s fast and nimble hands as they darted in and out, tickling your sides. His smile is palpable, his hair wavering from side to side as he adjusts his plan of attack every time you twist and turn under him. He has his knees pinned by your sides, grey sweats and a black t-shirt lingering over you as his colourful, decorated arms and neck looked ever so enticing. You couldn't help but notice the way that his pants twitched as he continued to hold you pinned down on the bed.

In a sudden change of heart, his hands stop, grasping your wrists and holding them above your head in one of his hands. He drops his face so that it is an inch from yours. His breath wafted over your face and you smiled, glancing between his intense gaze and watching the way he licked his lips.

“How was your shower? Did it fix your bad day?” He asked. His head tilted to the side slightly. The question sounded innocent enough, right?

“I’m still a little tense,” you reply. And you were honest with your response. It was a long day. When you arrived home, your bags were quickly dumped on the floor by the door haphazardly, a huff leaving you in an attempt to exult some of the emotion that had pent up all day. Working with kids was difficult on a normal day, but there must have been something in the air today for them to be as wild as they were. Noah knew you were in a less-than-ideal mood. Bless his soul, he did try and help, but the best thing you could do was to wash the day away. Now, even after a shower, the aftereffects of a bad day were still lingering despite being only towel-clad underneath your boyfriend.

“Turn over” he motions with his head, releasing your hands from his vice grip allowing you to lay on your stomach instead. In the midst of this motion, he tweaks his fingers under the top of where your towel sat, tugging at the tuck that held it secure. You had a sharp inhale as the cold air hit your bare skin, still warm and slightly damp from your shower.

You heard Noah hum behind you and you glance over your shoulder back at him, but he doesn't see your face. Instead, his eyes are trailing down your body, pupils dilating when he sets his sight on your ass.

Noah was an ass man for sure. And he was obsessed with yours. He would always be so handsy with you, the odd playful slap here and there, tucking his hand into your back pocket to cop a feel when he probably shouldn't be, even his favourite sex positions were the ones where it was front and centre in his view.

You tucked your hands under your chin, still twisting so that you could see Noah in your peripherals. His hands started to glide over your back, down your sides, following the sweet contours of your body. Noah let out a low growl from deep within, but you’re certain he wasn’t aware of half the noises he was making; the deep breaths, slight gasps and quiet moans.

Using all of his restraint, Noah tears his gaze from your ass and lifts his body so that he is kneeling over you, hands now placed on your shoulders. He could still feel the tension in the knots that had built up over time, forming firm ridges across your shoulders and back. Tattooed digits started to knead into the tender muscles twisting under your skin. The pressure mixed with the slow circles made you close your eyes and let out an involuntary moan. Noah hummed and smiled to himself, knowing the power this had over you. You were such a sucker for massages, and could never deny having Noah;s hands all over your body.

He continued to try his best to break down the clusters of tension, twisting and rubbing at the bundles that had gathered over a long time. Your head would roll from one side to the other, allowing Noah to work into different areas and use different pressures to make some kind of difference. Noah would be lying if he said he didn’t love it too. Having his hands all over you? Making you feel good? Knowing full well that this often led to something far more exciting? Yes please.

It was at this moment, as you were about to be lost to Noah’s touch and oblivious to the world, when your phone dinged again. Lifting it up to your face, another notification from your old friend lit up the phone that was strewn carelessly on the bed next to you.

Noah’s hands stopped.

“Who’s Patrick’?” Noah asks, the slighted hint annoyance in this voice. You readjusted your position so you could see Noah’s face, his expression blank. You tried to wriggle so you could twist from under him, but his legs tensed and squeezed you so you were stuck, completely at his mercy.

“He’s an old friend. Has a similar job. Been sending me some memes about work. He sent me one earlier but I didn’t respond so he’s probably sending another” you answer.

“Sending you memes, huh? He does this often?” Noah’s leg muscles were still tense beside you as he sat back on his haunches, warm calloused hands now retreating from your body.

“I mean, a little bit. He reached out last week after he started a new job with someone I used to know.” You pause, Noah’s demeanour was changing before your very eyes. Now, he seemed a little standoffish.

Noah makes a “Hmff” noise in response.

“Noah?” He doesn’t respond. “Are you jealous?”

No response again.

“Noah” you call once more.

“You’re seriously moody because I have been talking to an old friend?” You prop your head up on your hands in an effort to get a better view of Noah. Although you could see his face, he had turned to look across the room beyond you, and he seemed perplexed.

“Fine. Don’t talk to me. That's totally fine” you say sarcastically, shifting underneath him to slip out from his legs still perched beside you. Before you could free yourself entirely, Noah leaves. He stands and crosses the room, disappearing into your walk-in robe. Sounds of shuffling items then follows.

You twist and sit up, pulling the towel back around you. Your gaze was down at trying to hitch the material back into a safe tuck as you ignored the kerfuffle Noah was making when he walked back into the room.

Just as you are satisfied with the towel adjustments, Noah’s hands are on you, pushing you back down onto the bed. He hovers over you again, but now his eyes were dark and his motions were very intentional.

You go to speak, but Noah shakes his head and stands again, holding a firm grip on your hips so that you swivel to a new angle, diagonal across the bed, and spinning so that you land back onto your stomach, just like before.

Your eyes glance up in front of you and you see what the commotion Noah was making before. A full body-length mirror was now sat up leaning against the wall, allowing for your reflection to stare right back at you. You look up at Noah through your eyelashes in the mirror, raising an eyebrow quizzically at you, trying to figure out the expression Noah has spread all over his face. That is, until it hits. It’s a look of desire.

He proceeds to crawl over you, leaning forward on closed fists so that they land on either side of your head before rising to be on his knees. Illustrated hands that contrast with the towel hitch around your hips, yanking them up fast and forcefully so that your knees fall under you, perching your ass high.

You couldn’t help but have a smirk plastered on your face; Noah on the other hand, still doing his best to hold a poker face. His gaze wanders down, allowing his hands to rub possessively over your cheeks under the fuzzy material. They dance lightly over your hips, then begin the trace lines on the insides of your thighs. You let out a high-pitched whimper as an automatic response. You had no control over what influence Noah had on your body, let alone when you were like this.

Noah’s eyes didn’t leave your face, so you teasingly leant back, pressing your skin closer to him. Your breath started to quicken, hitching in your throat when his nimble fingers flicked at the towel causing it to slip down, exposing your body once again. Noah struggled to keep his composure as he took the sights, expression faltering slightly and his hands moved to your folds immediately feeling the warm wetness on his fingertips.

Your eyes slipped closed, relishing in the lightest of touches that Noah was gracing you with, that was until one hand came down with a hard slap on your ass, and the fingers teasing you were gone.

Your eyes shoot open and your body jolts in reaction, except Noah clamps his hands on your hips and pulls you back closer to him.

“Keep them open” he growls, and you watch the way his mouth twitches as his fingers return to your folds, one hand grabbing a handful of the tender skin of your ass cheek perched up in his direction. You lock eyes in the mirror. “I want you to see who’s you are,” he continued.

Slowly, one finger glides into your pussy. It might not be enough, but it’s something. You rock back in the slightest way, and Noah’s grip tightens on your ass. He gives you a warning glance, before his eyes move to his digit disappearing into your folds. It curls up inside you, like he was beckoning you to come closer. The caressing on your inside walls slowly pumps out, and then in again. A rhythm started to build and he added a second finger.

Starting to feel more full, your eyes begin to close, but you remember the demands before they fully shut. Instead, you peer through half-closed slits and admire the way Noah’s hips were starting to grind against you. There was a mound growing in his pants, grazing against your inner thigh, telling you that he is loving this.

“Does that feel good?” He murmurs from behind you, and his eyes are back on yours in the mirror. You nod and hum in response, sliding a hand back behind you to reach for Noah. He takes your hand, grasps it firmly, and places it on your back. It’s feels unnatural, but not unformatabme. Your fingers intertwine as acts almost like an anchor. For you? For Noah? You’re not sure, maybe even both of you.

“Say my name” he demands.

“N….” You start, and he flicks his wrist, stopping any ability to control your voice. Instead, a moan escapes.

“What was that?” He whispers, twisting his fingers again in the same motion.

“Nooaaahhhhh…” the end of his name escapes your mouth as a sigh, as though it could have very well been your last breath.

Noah’s fingers disappear from inside you, slipping out and bringing with it some of the wetness that is all but dripping from your pussy.

“What do you want?” He asks. But you can’t speak. The emptiness turns into an ache. All you can do is stare at him in the mirror and watch as he slides his fingers into his mouth, letting drips of your own liquids run down his chin. His eyes are blown wide and dark with desire, and he notices the way your legs twitch closer when his tongue graces the space between his two fingers, curling up to clean them of any remnants of you on them.

“I- I want you” you are able to stammer out between the heavy breaths.

He grins a devilish grin and shifts his weight, struggling to jam down his sweats to his thighs with one hand, ignoring his own wet patch of precum that had soaked through the front of them. His hand then lands on the outside of your thigh, in the crease where it meets your hip, as he steadies himself. You can feel the tip of his cock nudge at your entrance, and then he pauses.

His dark eyes are locked in on yours, looking through his eyelashes, and moving his eyes, slowly rocks his hips forward. The pressure is achingly slow. He is teasing you. Letting you know that he is in control here.

Your free hand grasps at fbe sheets below you, trying in some way to let out the tension that is building. The other hand still intertwined with Noah’s behind you tightens in grip. He gives his own squeeze back, almost as a reassurance. Your mouth falls open and eyebrows twist, anticipation causing you to be entirely out of control if your own body movements. You feel him inside, yet it’s the lack of rhythmic motion that is missing.

Your hips buck forward involuntarily, something deep within you just pleading for more friction between you and Noah, and he picks up on it. He begins to drag his cock out of you, placing his free hand on the inside of your thigh, tapping it with grace as though to say ‘open more’. You do as you’re told, shifting the weight to one leg and the other swings out to make a wide gap between your legs. Noah doesn’t hesitate after that.

His shaft is hammering back into you. In and out like a jackhammer. The fingers of his free hand now sitting dangerously and teasingly close to the tight ring of muscle that sat between your asscheecks. You look at his face in the mirror; a sheen of sweat building over his face after only a minute of fucking, his brows furrowed as he stares intently at the work he is doing on your behind. Nails dig into the tender flesh of your derriere as Noah tilts his head back.

You feel the white hot glow begin to burn inside you. Noah is not taking any chances tonight, his hand leaving yours on your back to tangle with the mess of hair on your head. It was already knotted, but Noah intertwined his fingers with it, tugging with little force to bring your chin up.

Your legs were shaking at this point, and it could have been from the pleasure or the absolute hammering they were receiving. There was a growl from Noah which drowned out the hum of the tv from the other room, but you couldn’t tell what he actually said. The skin on skin slapping sounding even sloppier by the second. He was getting close, he was starting to fumble over his rhythm, but he could see that you just weren’t as close to your release as he was.

His hand leaves the tangle of your messy hair, keeping his eye contact in the mirror, and lands on the underside of your belly. You can feel him pull towards him, another silent instruction. Pushing on your arms, you felt weak. They shivered underneath you and you rose to your elbows, then up on your palms.

“More. Against me” Noah hums through a tight jaw. The pounding from behind you was starting to slow and you knew he couldn’t hold on for much longer.

With the right shift of weight, you right yourself on your knees, feeling the sweaty, warm sensation of Noah’s heaving body on your back. His arm wrapped around your chest, settling with an open palm grasping needily at your breast. He grabbed, twisted and pinched at your nipple, caressing what he could as he tried his best to focus on bringing you closer. And boy, was it working.

The new position gave you a full frontal view of what state you were in. The mirror was a portal to a world of pleasure and sex, and the only ones who lived there were you and Noah. Nothing else around you mattered. Nothing else around you even existed in this moment.

Your eyes clamp shut as the build of your orgasm was teetering at the edge, threatening to unfurl and throw sensations through your body that only Noah could achieve. There was a tightening around your neck, and as your eyes open, he land on Noah’s is tense stare from behind you.

“I said keep them open” he demanded. “I want you to watch you cum. Watch what I can do to you.”

All you can do is nod. He was never this dominant, but he must have been really ticked off. He had a point to prove, and he was delaying his own paradise just to make it know.

“You’re mine.”

“I’m yours” you whisper.

The hammering of his cock inside you, slamming deep inside of you, paired with the hand that had just dropped to your clit was the magic that brought your orgasm to its peak. There was a flood of heat that washed through you. If it wasn’t for Noah’s arms, you would have collapsed right there in front of him. Your body jerked involuntarily as Noah let you ride out the electricity. His eyes were on your face, watching as you cried out with his name, hands desperately grabbing at his arm twisted around you.

His muscles flexed as he held you up, knowing that you needed him to stay this close, but he couldn’t help but give up the fight of holding back his own orgasm. With a wet jerk of his hips, he slipped from you just in time to let the streams of hot white cum leave him, landing on the lower part of your back. You fall forward, landing with your arms by your face, and let Noah release onto you. You watch as his own eyes close, failing to follow his own rules, and then collapses beside you.

It was minutes before either of you even got your breaths back into a regular pattern. You watch Noah lay on his back, his palm resting on his forehead, and a sex-drunk smile on his face. He turns to look at you, letting out a low chuckle.

“I’d like to see Patrick’s memes beat that.”

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elenadvrx · 6 months

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you could feel him seething from where he was sitting behind you in your shared office while you attend to a regular client.

both you and your fiancé, iwaizumi hajime (27), are athletic trainers. you met him while in college and only got together after he graduated and you were in your last year. when the both of you decided to professionally pursue a career in this field, the both of you decided to open and share a centre where you could assess and treat clients.

you have been working together for almost two years and everything was going great. well, as great as it could go with iwaizumi glaring daggers at you and your client while you go on about the session.

your client was a little…well, touchy. he has an on and off issue with his knee after his surgery and sometimes has difficulty walking. during the sessions, he would walk a few steps before accidentally lose his footing and fall against you, stabilising himself with an arm around your waist.

it was fine during the first few times, but he constantly did it during every. single. session. you wish you could just chuck him out but you didn't want to be unprofessional. you also did not want to lose the reputation as your centre was still quite new.

seeing how often he feints his collapses to fall on you, iwaizumi finally had enough of his act and decided to take matters into his own hand. he struts towards the two of you before ripping off the arm that was around you.

“get out.”

"wh-what? hey, you can't just tell me to get out. my session is not over yet!"

"did you hear me stutter? get. out." iwaizumi's face was now inches away from the poor guy.

"get out and never come back. if you do, it'll not just be your knee that's going to be in pain, you hear me?"

the guy’s face suddenly looked white as a sheet. he audibly gulps and went to pack his things before leaving the room in a hurry.

"huh, strange. his knee suddenly seems goddamn fine when he ran off. tsk." your fiance grunted to himself.

sighing dejectedly, you shook your head at iwaizumi. horrified that you most probably lost a client and wondered what would happen because of it, but — ah who cares, the guy was a creep anyways and you did enjoy watching your hunk of a man scare him away.

“why are you shaking your head at me for? if i didn’t know you, i’d think you actually didn’t mind that he was all touchy feely with you.”

going back to his desk, he sits down before crossing his arms and glares at you. he then carries on typing on his keyboard, continuing his work from before. but when you look closely, you could see a subtle pout of his lips.

is he– oh is he actually sulking and pouting at you?

“aww, hajime baby, don’t be pouty–“

“hey i’m not! i’m not p-pouting, you’re just imagining things. i’m not like shittykawa who constantly whines and pouts at the smallest things that upset him–“

you interrupted his rant with a wet kiss to his lips.

“okay baby, i believe you. and i’m sorry i didn’t stop him after the first few times. i will be sure to enforce some boundaries the next time, okay?”

iwaizumi then pulled you onto his lap, tucking your head under his chin. “yeah, you better.” you heard him mumble.

curious, you peek up at him to see him obviously pouting but you decided to spare his manly pride and let him be.

“but you’re still cute when you pout baby,” you remark before you bolted off.

“brat, get back here!”

maybe not. you enjoy teasing him anyways heh.

#iwaizumi fluff #iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi hajime fluff #iwaizumi hajime imagines #iwaizumi hajime x reader #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu x reader #iwaizumi hajime

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woso-dreamzzz · 9 months

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Surgery

Mapi Leon x Ingrid Engen x Child!Reader

Summary: You're in charge

You're there, the day that Mami hurts her knee.

She's running with you in her arms right after training and then all of a sudden, you're both on the ground. She's managed to roll so her weight doesn't crush you but only part way because your head bounces painfully on the grass.

You're slightly disorientated when you're pulled from Mami's arms by Mami's girlfriend Ingrid. You shake your head and then burst into tears when you notice all of the people around Mami.

You cry and cry and cry and force yourself under Ingrid's shirt so you can listen to her heartbeat at the same time as hiding yourself away from everything.

Mami spends a long time with the team doctor and you sob into Ingrid as she tries to look after you. She knows something bad though. You know that she knows what bad thing has happened to Mami but she just won't tell you.

You know she knows because she calls your Abuela and Abeulo and they never get called for anything that isn't serious.

Mami comes out on crutches and you cry even more.

"Hey," She coos to you," I'm okay. What are you crying about?"

"I hurted you!" You say through your tears," Hurted you real bad!"

"You didn't hurt me," Mami promises," I just had a little accident but that's alright. I'm going to have surgery and it's all going to be okay."

It doesn't sound like she'll be okay at all.

"Promise?"

"I promise."

"We're just going to have to help Mami out for a bit," Ingrid says," We're going to have to look after her."

"Like you and Mami look after me?"

"Yes."

Mami ends up getting surgery within a few days. Ingrid's getting ready to fly to Sweden to play Rosengard but she manages to be there for Mami's surgery.

Abuela and Abuelo are there too.

"Mami," You say softly as you climb up onto her bed," Is it going to take long?" You speak quietly because Mami's Ingrid is sleeping, eyes closed like a Disney princess as she holds Mami's hand tight in her own.

"Probably about an hour," Mami replies," Why? Are you worried?"

You shake your head. "I'm being very brave," You say to her because that's what Ingrid told you you were being a few nights ago when she tucked you into bed.

"You are being brave," Mami agrees," My brave little lion cub."

You make your hands into claws. "Rawr!"

Mami does the same with a smile. "Rawr!"

"Hmm," Ingrid shifts in her sleep, blearily opening her eyes to study you both," Are you being lions again?"

"Rawr!" You say and she smiles.

"What a brave little lion cub," She says, sitting up and rubbing the sleep out of her eyes," Is this lion cub hungry?"

You nod and she fishes some snacks out of her bag, slapping Mami's hands away when she tries to take some.

"No," Ingrid says sternly," You can't eat anything until after surgery. Here, cub, for you."

"Thank you, Ingrid." You lean over Mami to kiss Ingrid's cheek and then you say to Mami for good measure," You can't eat these because of your knee. It needs to be fixed first."

Mami's knee gets fixed and, when she comes home, she naps with Bagheera while you and Ingrid make lunch.

"Alright," Ingrid says that evening as she tucks you into bed," I've got a very special job for you."

Being tucked into bed was usually a job for Mami and Ingrid but Mami is still hurt so she gives you your kisses and bedtime snuggles in the living room before letting Ingrid take you to bed.

"I can do the special job."

"Well," Ingrid says, sitting against your pillows with you," I need to go away for a few days."

"To play Rosengard," You supply.

"Yes, to play Rosengard. And well I'm away, I'm going to need you to look after your Mami."

"I can look after Mami," You confirm, nodding.

"Very good." Ingrid tucks you in nice and tight, pulling your blankets up to your chin. "It's a very special job. I can't think of anyone else I'd rather ask to do it."

You smile. "Love you, Ingrid!"

"Love you too!"

With Ingrid gone the next day, it means that you're in charge and you tell Mami so when you stand in front of her with your arms crossed over your chest.

"You have to do what I say," You tell her," 'Cause you don't have a knee anymore and Ingrid put me in charge."

Mami laughs. "I still have a knee."

"Don't lie!" You say," Ingrid says I'm in charge and Ingrid's the boss!"

Mami laughs again. "That's right. Ingrid is the boss."

You nod. "And I'm the littler boss so you have to do what I say."

"Alright," She says," What are you telling me to do?"

You think for a moment. "You have to stay still," You say eventually," And look after your leg that doesn't have a knee. It needs lots of love to regrow your knee."

You nod decisively like you've just solved a global issue and clamber up to sit next to Mami. You pat her on the head and wave your finger in her face. "No moving. I get drinks!"

Most of your day is spent sitting with Mami watching movies and telling her off when she tries to move. Ingrid left you in charge and you tell Mami not to move so she's being bad when she tries to.

You tell her as much and it makes her sit back down.

You watch the match Ingrid is at together and celebrate when Barcelona win six goals to none.

"You have to stay still!" You say to Mami when she moves a bit too much in celebration. "You don't have a knee!" You lean down to her bandaged leg and give it a little kiss like she and Ingrid do to your cuts when you get hurt.

"Ingrid will be mad if you keep ignoring me!" You declare," You have to not move!"

"Okay, lion cub," Mami says. She drags a hand through your hair before cupping your face. "You're doing such a good job looking after me, thank you."

"You're welcome, Mami. Do we call Ingrid now?"

"We can call Ingrid."

Ingrid picks up on the second ring and her smiling face greets you and Mami.

"Hi, my girls," She says," Has Mami been good?"

"She keeps trying to move," You report," But I stopped her!"

"Very good, lion cub!" Ingrid says," I know you'd be the best for the job."

You beam at her and Mami brushes a hand through your hair softly.

"She's the very best," Mami says," My best girl."

"When are you coming home, Ingrid?" You ask," Mami can't tuck me into bed."

"I'll be home tomorrow," Ingrid promises you," I miss you both very much. Why don't you keep Mami company in our bed tonight? That way she doesn't need to tuck you in."

"Okay! I'll sleep with Mami in your bed!"

"In that case-" Mami pats you on the head and guides you to your feet "- Why don't you go and grab your pyjamas and get ready? We can have bedtime snuggles in my bed."

"Okay!" You scamper off down the hall before turning around again and pointing a finger at Mami. "Don't move! I have to help!"

"Okay, lion cub," Mami says," I won't move."

#woso x reader #mapi leon x reader #mapi leon #ingrid engen x reader #ingrid engen #woso community #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso

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ramblingthoughtsofayoungadult · 10 months

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Unpredictable-Limoreau x black!fem!reader fic

A/N: I was inspired a lot by the Bama Rush documentary and couldn't get the idea of a sorority girl in GOD U out of my head. Let me know if you want a part 2.

Warnings: some swearing

Words: 5.2k

Series Masterlist

Future probability cognition, the ability to see potential future outcomes, was usually a nice power to have. At 7, I knew my parents were going to get divorced before either of them considered filing. At 9, I knew my mother would focus all her energy on the agency. At 12, I knew that my older brother would take a head of surgery job in Buenos Aires, escaping the chaos at home. Despite this history, nothing could have prepared me for my second year at Godolkin.

The first day back on campus was uneventful: I survived a grueling early morning Pilates class that I envisioned would put me in Sydney’s, the Si Chi president, good graces and, later in the afternoon, I settled an argument between two Si Chi juniors by predicting that brunch would be the most successful rush event.

Being (one of) the first black high-ranking members of Si Chi could be a full-time job.

As I was re-reading the chapters for Brink’s class, my V-Phone buzzed with a text from Leah, one of the seniors in the sorority.

L: Do you know Emma?

I quickly typed back: Which one? Wallace or the girl who got the botched nj in SK?

L: Neither. Short girl with curly blonde hair. She’s here 4 u.

The yelp that left my mouth would have been embarrassing if anyone else was in the house study room. Quickly, I tucked my book under my arm and ran into the ivory and wood-paneled foyer complete with Tiffany crystal chandelier and faint instrumental piano music playing through the Bluetooth speakers. At the door, Leah’s arms were crossed over her lavender babydoll dress as she smiled fakely at Emma, who looked more apprehensive than usual.

“Emma, hi, I thought I told you to text me when you got here!” I greeted as I approached the two.

Emma’s expression relaxed when her blue eyes landed on me. “Sorry, I got distracted and then I got lost trying to find you.”

I glanced at Leah, who shot me a questioning look. “Thanks, Leah, I can take it from here.”

Leah shrugged, turned, and teleported into thin air. Emma’s eyes widened again as she stepped further into the house and I closed the door behind her.

“Sorry about Leah; she’s cagier than usual because she couldn’t get a refill on her favorites,” I explained.

“It’s fine, I’m just glad you aren’t like that,” Emma admitted.

I paused to finally hug her and she nearly crushed me as she wound her arms around my middle. It felt like forever since I had seen Emma, even though it was at my dad’s annual 4th of July barbecue. When I pulled away, Emma eyed the book in my hand.

“You’re reading before school starts. Nerd,” she teased.

I playfully pushed her shoulder. “We’re in college, we have to take school way more seriously now. Besides, a requirement for Si Chi is at least a 3.8.”

Emma tapped her chin. “Let me guess, you have a 4.0.”

I smiled and tugged her further into the house. Of course, I had to give her a tour of the house and introduce her to the girls we passed. When we finally got to my room, Emma collapsed on top of my pastel blue comforter, dropping her bag on the matching rug.

“I know Si Chi is a top house, but you basically live in Barbie’s Dream House,” Emma beamed. “How do I get in? What do I have to do? I will do literally anything or anyone.”

I rolled my eyes and set my book on my desk. “I’m glad you like the place but, you haven’t even met your roommate yet. What’s her name again?”

Emma pushed herself up on her elbows with a huff. “Marie Moreau. I tried to find her on social media, but she doesn’t have any: No X, no TikTok, not even an obligatory Facebook.”

Social media presence was basically a requirement at GOD U these days so it was a bold move for someone to show up without any. It could mean Marie was hardcore about her studies or…

“She might have strict parents,” I pointed out, sitting next to Emma.

Emma raised an eyebrow. “They better not be weird, cult-y parents. I guess that would be my luck too: have a psycho roommate my freshman year.”

“Hey, no one could have had it worse than me: a slob who always had boys over and threatened to gut me in my sleep,” I argued.

“But, you saw all of that coming,” Emma argued.

I shook my head. “Only the part where she stood over my bed with a knife in hand.” I sighed and pressed my hands into the covers. “I’m so glad I don’t have to deal with that ever again.”

“Really, because some of these girls are giving unhinged,” Emma replied.

“The nice thing is I either pick up on the signs or ‘see’ their breaking point,” I explained.

Emma nodded and pushed herself off my bed to start exploring my room. As she started messing with my checkered Moschino teddy bear figurine, my phone buzzed on my desk. When I grabbed it, I saw it was a video call from Cate.

“Hi, what’s up?” I greeted, holding the phone at the most flattering angle.

“I’m trying to entertain myself while Luke preps for training,” Cate admitted.

“What, you’re not totally entertained by your star boyfriend?” I teased.

Cate rolled her eyes. “No, I can’t wait for this to be over. You’re coming, right?”

I shook my head. “Sorry, we have a rush event at the same time, including a choreographed dance.”

“Ooh, did you choreograph it?” Cate asked.

“I might have helped a little.”

“Well, I’m pissed I’ll miss it but make sure to have someone send me all the cute videos and pictures,” Cate requested.

“Sure.”

There was some yelling in the background and Cate rolled her eyes.

“I have to go but we’ll talk later.”

“Bye!”

When I hung up, Emma was staring at me with her mouth gaping, the teddy figurine dangerously close to slipping from her grasp and onto the hardwood floor. I crossed the room as quickly as I could and carefully placed the figurine back on my dresser.

“Emma, I love you but if you break anything, I will lose it,” I warned.

“You know Cate Dunlap?” Emma asked slowly.

“Oh, yeah, she’s my peer mentor. Dean Shetty paired us up last year since our powers are similar,” I answered.

“So, you’ve met Luke Riordan? Like, you’ve been in his presence?”

“Yes,” I answered slowly.

“And you didn’t faint or throw up from his glory?”

“Emma, he’s a regular person. His powers are insane but he is also human, just like us.”

“No, I’m a regular person. Luke Riordan is, like, a demigod or something. Is he better looking in person?”

I hesitated and busied myself with grabbing my rush outfit from my closet and setting it on my bed. Then, I stared at my shoes, feeling Emma’s eyes bored into the back of my head. I closed my eyes and focused on the event tonight, the potential sounds and people. Seconds later, I got a decent image of my Si Chi sisters and I dancing in front of the house, surrounded by freshmen girls in Princess Polly and House of CB. I focused all my energy on looking at our feet and tried not to groan when I saw red high-top Converse.

“Every time,” I muttered as I opened my eyes.

Two more years, just two more years of going along and I would reap the benefits: a strong ranking, a decent contract, and my pick of the most eligible supes. I just had to keep playing the game.

I grabbed my platform red Converses and set them in front of my bed, sheepishly turning to Emma. “Yes, Emma.”

She squealed. “I knew it!”

I laughed at her joy as she bounced in her Vans. “Go to the training today and see for yourself.”

Emma’s expression deflated slightly as she walked closer to me. “I wish you could come, you could introduce us!”

“There will be a next time,” I stated.

“Promise?” She held up her pinky and eyed me as I slowly wrapped my manicured one around hers. She opened her mouth but was cut off by an alarm going off on her phone. “Shit, I have to go film a video!”

“You’re still doing Little Cricket?” I asked.

Emma shushed me loudly and her eyes filled with panic. “Not so loud and definitely not in this house!”

The girls probably already know all about it, I thought.

I flipped my waist-length box braids over my shoulder and laughed as she rushed towards the door. “You don’t know where you’re going, let me walk you out!”

She paused for a split second and gave me some time to catch up to her. However, I led her through the quickest route back to the front door and she gave me a quick hug before she took off. I laughed as I closed the door behind her.

“Some things never change,” I mused.

When I got back up to my room, I realized she left her backpack and groaned. She would have to learn to be more responsible if she was going to survive more than a week here. So, I grabbed my purse and her backpack before traipsing the campus. Fortunately, Emma had texted me her dorm information before she got on campus.

“In case of an emergency,” she’d insisted.

The freshman dorms were not as bad as I remembered them but I cringed at a few musty speedster jocks I crossed in the hallway. A brief premonition helped me duck to avoid an ice user’s power going out of control when I finally made it to Emma’s door. First, I rapped on the door three times.

“Emma, it’s me, you really have to keep a better eye on your stuff!” I called.

After a few seconds of no answer, I knocked again.

“Seriously? I can’t always be looking after you,” I teased.

Finally, the door swung open, revealing a pretty black girl with big brown eyes and long brown dreads that were pulled partly away from her face. Her eyes widened at me and I smiled.

“Sorry, I’m looking for Emma, she left her bag in my----”

Emma cut me off, appearing next to the girl, “I was wondering where that went, thanks!” She grabbed the bag from me.

“Oh, uh, come in,” the girl said, stepping aside.

I nodded and wandered further into their dorm. It was small, like most freshman dorms, but Emma’s side offered pops of color and coziness. The other side was more basic, probably because the girl just moved in.

“Marie, this is Y/N, my best friend, Y/N, Marie,” Emma introduced as she plopped onto her bed.

I turned to Marie and extended a hand. “Nice to meet you.”

She hesitated slightly before shaking my hand. “You too.”

“Don’t worry, Marie, you’ll get used to her hotness,” Emma advised.

My cheeks warmed as I whirled around to my friend. “Emma!”

“It’s true!”

The embarrassment floated in the pit of my stomach as I faced Marie, who looked somewhere between surprised and amused. “Sorry about her, she speaks without thinking.”

“It’s okay. How do you two know each other?” Marie asked.

“Her mom represents me,” Emma answered.

“Oh.”

“She’s the one who helped encourage me to make a YouTube channel and is helping me get into more commercials until my big break,” Emma continued.

I sighed as I sat in Emma’s desk chair. “We’ve known each other since I was four and she was three.”

“Do you want to be an actor too?” Marie asked.

I shook my head. “I tried it when I was little but it wasn’t for me.”

Emma’s eyes lit up and she sat up on her bed. “You should have seen her, she was so cute! She was that toddler in that one diaper commercial----”

“Emma,” I softly begged.

Marie laughed. “Now, I’m curious.”

“Please don’t look it up, it’s not worth it anyway,” I insisted.

Marie shrugged and sat on her bed. “My curiosity might get the best of me.”

“Why did you have to mention that stupid commercial?” I whined at Emma, who laughed at my pain. “Anyway, what’s your major?”

“Crimefighting,” Marie answered.

I straightened up. “Me too.”

“So, you’ve had classes with Brink? How is he? What’s he like?” Marie rambled.

“Well, he’s really tough on first years and makes his tests almost impossible to pass,” I admitted.

“Really?” Marie asked.

“But, I can help you if you want; I did pretty well last year,” I offered.

As soon as the words left my mouth, I questioned where they came from. Marie was a complete stranger, yet she was one of the easiest people to talk to. Normally, I stumbled over my words in front of new people, and this was…new.

“That would be great, thanks,” Marie replied.

Emma leaned forward. “Y/N, you are way too modest. She was in the top ten of the first years last year and she has a peer mentor and meets with Brink on a regular basis.”

Marie snapped her attention to me. “Wait, what?”

I shook my head. “She makes it sound more impressive than it is.”

“No, I’m not; she hangs out with the Top Five all the time.”

“Top Five?” Marie asked.

Emma and I turned to her, stunned.

“You don’t know what the Top Five are?” Emma asked slowly.

Marie shook her head, growing tenser the longer we looked at her.

“Godolkin ranks all the students based on their Q score, which is basically the strength of their powers, academics, and social media engagement. The Top One Hundred are the only ones published every day,” I explained.

“And the Top Five are the only ones everyone really cares about since they’re the ones most likely to make it into the Seven,” Emma added. “It’s on the GOD U app.”

“I don’t have a phone,” Marie admitted.

Emma balked at her. “How have you gone this far in life without a phone?”

Marie shrugged. “My parents wouldn’t let me have one.”

“What about emergencies?” I asked.

“Someone else always has one,” Marie countered.

Something was off about her statement and I knew that if I focused on it long enough, I would get a premonition about her. However, I decided that it would be rude to do that in conversation and tabled it for later.

“You’ll get through it,” I said.

“So, what ranking are you, Y/N?” Marie asked.

“Last I checked, I was number twenty,” I recalled.

Marie and Emma’s eyes widened at me, and I shrunk a little under their gaze. It really was not that impressive considering how intense the nineteen other people above me were.

“That’s amazing!” Emma cheered, leaping off her bed and hugging me.

“How did that happen?” Marie asked gently.

When Emma pulled away, I replied, “Well, right before summer break, I had a premonition about a case Brink had the class working on all year.”

“You solved a crime?” Marie concluded.

“I just helped with a tip,” I insisted.

“Please, Y/N, don’t act like you haven’t solved cases before,” Emma stated.

I narrowed my eyes at her and Emma smirked in reply. Marie held up her hands and shook her head.

“Wait, as in plural?”

“It’s really not a big deal. With all the forensics, psychology, and ethics classes you’ll take, you’ll be solving them too.”

Marie looked unconvinced but did not push it. “So, what’s your ability? I’m sorry if that’s rude to ask.”

“No, it’s fine. Future probability cognition, I can see potential outcomes for the future,” I explained.

“That’s amazing,” Marie complimented.

“Eh, a lot of times it means I get blurry images in my head but it’s helpful sometimes. What about you?”

“Blood manipulation.”

“Whoa, no offense, but that is such a supervillain power,” Emma thought outloud.

“Emma!”

“I said ‘no offense’!”

Marie laughed. “It’s okay, I get why people would think that.”

“Can you give us a demonstration?” Emma asked.

Marie nodded and grabbed a switchblade from her cargo pants’ pocket. In a graceful motion, she cut one of her palms and held it out in front of her. Seconds later, a circle of blood floated in the air like water, swirling each way. Marie smiled at our expressions and the blood slowly flowed back in her palm and the mark healed.

“That was awesome!” Emma cheered.

“I think Brink will like you,” I added.

“Thanks. I think it’s your turn, Y/N,” Marie said.

I hesitated. “Well, mine is definitely not as impressive as yours and I can’t promise I’ll see anything…positive.”

“That’s okay,” Marie insisted.

“You can use me as a demonstration,” Emma offered.

I turned to her and closed my eyes. My mind wandered to images of her face and the sound of her laugh. Eventually, I saw an image of her rolling around her dorm bed with some guy. Then, all of a sudden, she was small and--- “AAAH!” I jumped from my seat, both underclassmen looking at me confused.

“Is it that bad?” Emma asked.

My eyes looked everywhere but my best friend and my hands unconsciously flexed. “Whatever you do, do not bring a guy here in the future.”

“You don’t want me to get laid?”

“I don’t think you would want to experience what I just saw.” I shivered at the thought.

“Have your powers made you respond like that before?” Marie asked.

I nodded. “It’s rare, though, and I have help to get a handle on it.”

Slowly, I sat down and focused on the orange circle rug on the floor. Suddenly, I wished Cate was there to wipe that premonition from my memory. My stomach churned and I swallowed thickly.

“Oh, Marie, you have to come to the training with me today,” Emma announced.

“What training?”

“The Top Five have public training at the beginning of every year. This year, Luke Riordan is up first,” Emma explained with a grin.

“Luke’s a big deal?” Marie asked.

“Hell yeah, he’s number one!” Emma chastised.

Marie turned to me. “Are you going?”

I looked up at her and wondered if she seemed kind of hopeful. “No, I have to do rush tonight.”

“On top of everything else, she is also the secretary of Si Chi, the top sorority on campus,” Emma bragged.

“Wow, are you always this busy?” Marie asked.

“Not always. Things calm down once rush is over.” My phone beeped in my bag and I grabbed it. “Speaking of which, I have to run and get ready.”

“But you already look nice,” Marie commented.

“Thanks, but I need to be up to Si Chi standards. Have fun at the training and Emma, please try not to act up too much.”

“I can’t control what will happen once his clothes burn off.”

“What?” I shook my head. “I’ll see you around.”

The next day, I was shocked awake by a series of texts from Emma.

E: Emergency, pls come 2 my dorm.

E: Srsly, Marie needs ur help.

Immediately, I wondered my Marie would need my help. When I reached out to Emma last night, she was busy gushing over Luke and never mentioned any issues. Also, I didn’t see any posts about her on social media which calmed my nerves.

After texting her I would be there soon, I slowly pushed myself to sit up in my head and pushed my silk sleep mask up over my scarf. Then, I meditated for a few minutes, breathing through all the chaotic thoughts and scenarios that included strangers and people that I knew. Just when my temples began to throb, I stopped and made my way into the en-suite bathroom.

About thirty minutes later, Emma shoved her dorm room open and pulled me in. She was wearing a gray GOD U t shirt and matching shorts, her curly stuck up in random places.

“Where the hell have you been?” she whispered.

“I got here as soon as I could,” I defended. “What’s going on?”

Marie stood from her desk, a deep frown on her face, and made her way towards us. “I’m not in any Crimefighting classes; it’s all performing arts!”

I cocked my head to the side. “That’s weird. Can I see your schedule?”

“It’s on my phone.” Emma handed it to me and I started scrolling through Marie’s schedule.

“Did you register for any performing arts classes?” I asked.

“No, I registered for all the first-year Crimefighting classes,” Marie insisted.

The frustration was thick in her voice and I wondered what was keeping her from punching a hole in the wall.

“Is there anything I can do?” Marie asked.

“Sorry, I don’t know. I’ve never heard of this happening.” I paused for a moment and smiled. “But I might be able to help. I have a meeting with Brink today and if you come with me, I could introduce you and we could get this all figured out.”

“Really? Do you know how it will go?”

“Let me try.”

I closed my eyes and focused on Brink, the Crimefighting building, and Marie. The images were as blurry as a Monet up close and all the audio was muffled as if everyone was speaking underwater. When I opened my eyes, I shook my head at Marie.

“Looks like it’s up to fate,” I commented.

Marie deflated and I did not know whether to comfort her or not.

“I’m sending good vibes your way,” Emma offered.

“Thanks, we’ll need it,” Marie replied.

As much as I wanted to push back, I did not like not knowing how this would turn out. My heart drummed in my ears later that day as we walked to the Lamplighter building. At the very least, the sun was beaming on everything, making Godolkin look shinier than usual. It was the perfect day for the white cherry-printed sundress and denim jacket I wore with platform white sandals. My braids flowed freely around me under the cool breeze.

When we walked into the building, I let out the breath I did not know I was holding in.

“You okay?” Marie asked.

“Yeah, why?” I replied.

“Your heart rate picked up,” she observed.

I paused and looked at her. “You can hear my heartbeat?”

She nodded. “Sorry, I know that’s kind of weird.” “Nothing’s weird at this school but, that’s good to know,” I assured.

I made a mental note to be more intentional in meditation as I led Marie to Brink’s office. The Lamplighter building was practically empty since most students were sleeping off hangovers. However, Jordan Li wasn’t most students and was at their usual post, the desk outside of Brink’s office, eyes focused on their laptop. They were in their feminine form, hair slicked back in a low ponytail.

A small smile etched its way on my glossed lips at the sight and I turned to Marie, whose eyes widened at Jordan.

“Let me do the talking,” I whispered.

“Sounds good,” she answered, nodding.

As soon as we got in front of Jordan’s desk, I waved my hand in front of their face to no avail. With no choice, I grinned as I slammed my hands on the desk and called their name. Immediately, Jordan jumped in their seat, yanking their earbuds out as they exclaimed an expletive.

I laughed as they rolled their eyes at me.

“Seriously, freshie?” Jordan commented.

“You can’t call me that anymore, I’m a sophomore,” I sang.

“It doesn’t have the same ring to it,” Jordan teased.

My cheeks warmed at their words and I gripped my Longchamp tote closer to me in an attempt to get a grip on myself.

“By the way, I loved your little dance from last night,” Jordan added.

“You saw that?” I rasped.

“Rushtok is so big that no one can escape it.” Jordan glanced at their laptop. “You’re early, as usual.”

“I like to be punctual but, I also have someone who might be your new favorite freshman,” I replied.

“Impossible,” Jordan scoffed.

I nodded to Marie, who slowly moved to stand next to me. “This is Marie Moreau. Marie, this is Jordan Li, Brink’s TA.”

Jordan glanced at Marie, a smirk disappearing from their face. “Hi.”

“Hi, it’s so nice to meet you. You’re so awesome; your powers are incredible,” Marie confessed.

Jordan smirked. “I’m glad I impressed a freshman.”

Marie looked taken aback and glanced at me.

“I brought Marie with me since there’s been a mix-up. She applied for Crimefighting but she’s in all the performing arts classes. So, I was thinking that you’d be able to help,” I explained.

Jordan looked back at their laptop and started typing again. “I know, I’m the one who rejected her.”

Their words hung in the air and I could feel a lump starting to form in my throat. As smart as Jordan was, they were either unaware of how deeply their bluntness could cut or they did not care. After knowing them for a year, I began to lean toward the latter.

“What?” Marie muttered.

“Why?” I questioned.

“She has no social media presence and, even though her scores are decent, she needs a following,” Jordan rattled.

“Isn’t that a little biased? Do you know what her powers are? If you knew, I think you would be open to making an exception,” I argued gently. “Besides, she can still get a following online. With her face, it will take no time.”

As soon as the comment left my mouth, I froze. I had no idea why I said that, maybe Emma’s tendencies had rubbed off on me.

“Sorry, the decision’s final.” Jordan did not sound apologetic at all and I thought I saw them trying not to smirk again.

“You can’t do that. Let me talk to Professor Brink,” Marie requested.

“There’s no point, he leaves all admission decisions to me,” Jordan said. “You should learn from your friend. Y/N here has ten million followers across her social media and solved the Glasgow Ripper case and a twenty-year-old cold case before she got here.”

Marie whirled around to me. “You solved the Glasgow Ripper case?”

“I just gave them a tip and it was supposed to be anonymous,” I muttered.

“Nothing is anonymous with Vought,” Jordan countered. “Plus, you led them to key evidence.”

“They would have solved it…eventually,” I admitted.

Based on my original estimate, it would have taken them three years and I always felt horrible whenever they showed the victims’ families on the news. The tension in the space was thick as Jordan and Marie glared at each other. I wracked my brain for something, anything to say.

Fortunately, Brink took care of the tension when he burst out of his office, gun in hand, and shot at Jordan. Marie yelped as Jordan switched to their male form and absorbed the shot.

“Wow, every time,” Brink admired.

“If you keep it up, I’m going to run out of shirts, sir,” Jordan replied, smiling.

Brink turned to Marie and me. “Oh, Y/N, you’re here, early as always.”

“Hi, Professor Brink. How was your summer?” I asked.

“Busy. And yours?”

“Good. Um, Professor, I don’t want to take too much of your time, but this is Marie Moreau and there was a mix-up with her schedule,” I started.

Professor Brink nodded and turned to Marie. “Is that so?”

Marie quickly explained the dilemma, narrowing her eyes at Jordan but was able to stay as calm and professional as possible. I glanced at Professor Brink’s expression and while he looked pleasant, I dreaded his words.

“Well, if Jordan rejected you, that’s final. I trust their judgment,” Professor Brink affirmed. “You can serve as a hero in many ways; Crimefighting is a select group of students who show high aptitude in several areas. That does not mean anyone else is less valuable. Maybe we will see you on Dancing with the Stars one day.”

Marie’s face fell and her body tensed. I might have started crying if I was in her position but her eyes stayed dry. I gently put my hand on her shoulder.

“We’ll figure something out,” I muttered.

She did not look convinced and as I politely followed Brink into his office, I prayed that I would get some sort of helpful premonition. Then again, why did I want to help this girl? I knew her for less than twenty-four hours. Nothing was making sense.

Later that day, I practically ran a hole into my bedroom floor as I ruminated over my next steps. My meeting with Brink was unremarkable and I couldn’t stop thinking about how to get Marie into crim. She was obviously a strong hero in the works, even if Jordan didn’t see it. One way to help would be to get her into a decent house on campus since that was one of the only viable routes outside of making it into the Top 100 to get noticed on campus. However, Marie did not strike me as the sorority type.

Then again, I could help her with donors at fundraisers since they loved throwing their money to make themselves feel better. As I thought, my mind somehow circled back to Jordan. It was fun getting a rise out of them after everything last year. They were not as rude to me as they were to Marie, but they were still terrifying last year. They always had a critique for someone and had reduced numerous kids to tears before the first semester ended. Somehow, I impressed them last year and they started being nicer to me. It probably also did not hurt that I had befriended Cate.

“Ugh, it’s hopeless!” I huffed, plopping onto my bed.

Even when I tried to get premonitions, there was nothing helpful; just Jordan and Marie arguing while I attempted to settle things.

What was this year turning into?

My phone rang, jolting me from my thoughts, and I answered without looking at the caller ID. “Hello?”

“Do you have any rush shit tonight?” Cate asked.

I sat up and eyed her in the video call. “No, all the presidents and VPs are meeting tonight so we’re on our own.”

“Great, so you’re free to go out with us,” Cate concluded with a grin.

My heartbeat picked up at the thought of going out with Cate and the others. Any time I went out with them always ended in an interesting story, from the time Cate got us all out of a really embarrassing ticket to the time Andre and Luke drunkenly dueted “Never Gonna Give You Up” in a Korean karaoke bar.

“I know that face, you’re thinking too much,” Cate warned.

“Not in a bad way, in a good way. Where are we going?”

“Don’t worry, just wear something hot and meet us in the parking lot at ten.”

“Okay.”

I hung up and set the phone on my dresser. Maybe this would help me clear my head or get me out of my head. Sometimes the thoughts could be suffocating but I would get a break tonight. I closed my eyes and wondered what would happen tonight. Slowly, clear images of a dark club and the sound of a thumping bass flooded my mind. The club was crowded but I saw myself dancing with Cate and…Marie?

#gen v x reader #jordan li x reader #black!reader #marie moreau x reader #limoreau x reader

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yikesharringrove · 5 months

Text

He doesn't talk anymore.

It was a jarring switch, and everyone still isn't used to Steve's persistent silence.

Because before, he was nearly as chatty as Dustin. Always trying to make the kids laugh, yelling at them and calling them shitheads (albeit lovingly).

He doesn't even laugh anymore.

His windpipe had been badly crushed by the demobat's tail wrapped snugly around his neck.

He had needed surgery.

Surgery that had only added to the lacerations and the keloid scars around on his neck.

And really, it's not that he can't talk.

He couldn't for awhile, and it still hurts sometimes.

But he doesn't fucking want to.

He has nothing left to say.

Because he had made peace with death.

Several times, actually. Throwing the burning bottles, being choked in a dried-out lake by a creature straight from his nightmares.

In fact, he had been mostly ready to venture into the sweet beyond since last summer.

His leg shook under the table, and he was staring at the silver ring on his thumb, spinning it around, and around.

He didn't really like when Robin left him alone at their donation table, she was much better at talking to the people that stopped by, bringing more clothes they didn't need, or coming to pick up something to replace what's been lost.

But Robin was doing her best to move on. Chatting up Vickie in some corner, somewhere.

A small cough got Steve's attention.

It was Susan. Hargrove. Mayfield? Did she go back to her previous name after her abusive husband left her with the corpse of his son?

"I found another box. I guess Maxine had been-" her eyes welled up, and Steve's hands stopped spinning the ring around his thumb. "Well, I think she kept some things of his."

Steve's hands shook as he stood up.

He knew Billy and Max had been much closer than they let on.

He knew Max missed Billy more than she could really express.

He opened the box.

Right on top.

It was that fucking jacket.

The brown leather one. The one that was older and softer, more worn than anything else Billy owned.

Because he loved it. Because he took care of it. Because it was his favorite.

And something in Steve broke a little, and he raised the jacket to his face, and he breathed in deeply. He didn't care who saw. He didn't care that Susan's face had gone pale and her tears had started falling for real.

"Oh."

He barely heard her voice over the blood rushing in his ears, the smell and the memories and don't fucking cry, Steven!

Susan closed the box up carefully. Steve finally lowered the jacket.

"I can put this in your car. So you can keep them. You deserve to-" she glanced down at his hands, and the silver ring, tarnished and glinting on his thumb. "keep them."

Steve brought his hand up to his wobbling chin, touching his fingertips gently under his lip, bringing his hand back down, palm up.

Thank you.

He hoped she got it. Understood the way she understood his tears.

She took his hand briefly.

"I wish we had met differently. I wish-well. I'm sure you wish the same thing."

Steve nodded. His leg had started shaking again, making his whole body tremble. He felt unsteady on his feet.

He fished his keys out of his pocket, handing them to Susan so she could take the box and tuck it in his trunk.

"You take care, then. You, you remember him well."

Steve nodded again, hot tears dripping off his chin.

Yes, ma'am. He wanted to say. I'll never forget him.

But,

he doesn't talk anymore.

#oooh this wasn't supposed to be this sad but idk i guess this is whats happening #steve harrington #billy hargrove #harringrove #yikes writes

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pulisicsgirl · 1 year

Text

caring for you - mason mount

summary: following Mason's surgery, Y/N does everything in her power to take care of him and keep him comfortable, and his parents take note

pairing: Mason Mount x reader

word count: 2.2k

warnings/tags: brief mentions of surgery and medicine, PDA in front of parents, fluff

requested: yes!! here

notes: I'm back (for now)!! I'm about to start finals week, so hopefully I'll have more time to write once I've made it back home! I received this request a while ago, and I was thinking about writing something about taking care of Mason after his procedure last week, so I figured I'd combine the two! Hope you like it!

Also I feel like this started out really strong and the end is absolute garbage, so I'm very sorry about that

Since the moment the two of you had arrived at home from the hospital, you hadn’t let Mason leave his spot in the corner of the ‘L-shaped’ couch. As soon as you walked through the door, you had (gently) pushed him down onto the soft cushion, tucking a soft blanket over his legs. It was only a few minutes before you had a bottle of water and a couple of snacks by his side in case he needed them.

The surgery had been relatively minor, all things considered. It was an outpatient procedure, scheduled for the early hours of the day. So by the time it reached the late afternoon, the doctor had discharged Mason, instructing him to take it easy for the next couple of weeks to avoid agitating the incisions before easing back into his regular training regimen. The doctor had informed you that everything had gone very well and there should be nothing to be concerned about.

So of course, you were very concerned, just a ball of anxiety, making sure that Mason didn’t lift a finger for the rest of the day.

Mason had been pretty tired once the two of you had arrived home, so you left him to nap on the couch while you tidied up the rest of the house. Mason’s parents were making the drive up from Portsmouth to spend the evening in London. Mason hadn’t been able to see them in a while and took advantage of the free days he would have following his operation to invite them to spend some time with him (and you).

Part of you had been worried that Mason would be too exhausted after the early morning he’d had and the surgery to visit with them. But you also knew that, like you, Debbie would be worried about Mason following the procedure, and just being able to see him would do wonders to calm her nerves.

So as Mason took a well-deserved nap, you moved about the house, sweeping the floors, wiping down the counters, and making sure that everything had been put in its proper place. You washed the dishes that had accumulated in the sink over the last couple of days and put them away. You were sure to pass through the living room every few minutes to make sure Mason was still sleeping peacefully. You felt a warmth spread through your chest each time you checked on him, the blanket tucked up under his chin and a slight pout on his lips as his face was smushed into the pillow.

It came time for Mason to take the next dose of one of the medications the doctor had sent home with him, and he had just begun to stir from his nap as you sat down on the couch by his head. You reach out, threading your fingers through his hair as he began to blink his eyes open, humming at your gentle touch.

“How you feeling?” you spoke softly to him.

“ ‘m good,” he mumbled, a grin on his face as he looked up at you with nothing but pure adoration in his eyes.

You returned his smile. “Good. Well, it’s time for you to take your medicine.”

He sat up slowly, grunting with the effort, which instantly put you on edge, worried that he was in pain. He must have noticed the look on your face when he looked over at you.

“I’m fine. I promise,” he moved himself up on the couch so that he was sitting next to you. He placed his hand on the back of your neck, gingerly leaning over to kiss you on the forehead. “Stop worrying yourself so much.”

You smiled sheepishly at him, feeling a little silly for how worked up you had been the whole day, but you couldn’t really help it. You would truly do anything for Mason, and the thought of him in pain was something you never wanted to even consider.

“Your parents should be here any minute,” you informed him once he had swallowed the pills. “Dinner is almost ready, so we should be ready to eat as soon as they arrive. Are you feeling hungry?”

“Of course. Especially if it’s your cooking.”

“Oh, shut up, you.” He laughed at your deflection, knowing that you had no clue how to accept a complement. Even so, he delighted in giving them to you often, watching your cheeks flush red and your eyes dart to the ground.

It was only a few minutes before you heard the knock on the front door, knowing it could only be Debbie and Tony. You gave Mason a quick kiss, instructing him not to move from the couch as you walk to the door. You opened it, greeting his parents as they both pulled you into warm hugs. You had met Mason’s family several times before, but your relationship with them was still new enough that you felt nervous any time they came around. You felt as though you needed to somehow prove to them that you were worthy of their son’s love, despite Mason’s constant reassurance that it was unnecessary, insisting that they already loved you. You still tried your best, though, making sure that everything was perfect at the house before they came over.

You led them to the living room so that they could greet their son and told them you’d be in the kitchen, putting the final touches on the food you had prepared. You caught Mason’s eye before you turned away, and he flashed a quick grin at you.

You were dishing the food into bowls when Debbie entered the kitchen, a kind smile on her face as she offered your help. You informed her that you were nearly done, but she could help with carrying the dishes to the boys.

“He seems like he’s doing well,” she said.

You nodded in agreement. “I think so. He hasn’t told me he’s had any pain since we got home, and I just gave him another dose of the pain medicine that the doctor sent home with us before you got here. Though you and I both know that he probably wouldn’t say anything even if he was in pain.”

The two of you shared a laugh over the stubborn boy that was dear to both of your hearts.

“How are you doing?” she asked suddenly.

“M-me?” Her question caught you off-guard as you dished food into the fourth and final bowl, and you looked up at her. Her lips were drawn together in a tight line as she examined your face.

“Yes, you. I know you well enough to know you’ve been running yourself ragged all day to keep him comfortable.”

“Oh,” you breathed, a warm feeling spreading through your chest at her motherly concern. It meant more to you than she realized that she would express that kind of affection for you. “Y-yeah, I’m alright. He’s a pretty good patient, so he makes my job easy.” You pressed a smile to your face despite the emotions you felt welling up inside you.

You handed Debbie the bowls containing food for Tony and herself and let her know you’d be in the living room in a moment. She walked out of the kitchen, and you lingered behind for just a moment, dabbing the tears from the corners of your eyes in an attempt to keep your mascara from running.

Just that simple question from Mason’s mother was so important to you. Knowing that she approved of your relationship with her son and saw how much you wanted to take care of him—it did wonders to calm your nerves surrounding your relationship with her and Tony.

Once you had collected yourself, you picked up the two remaining bowls and met Mason, Tony, and Debbie in the living room. You had decided that it would be best for the four of you to eat on the couch so that Mason could remain comfortable, and you could all continue to visit together.

Plus, you knew Mason and his father really wanted to continue watching the football match that had started a mere 20 minutes ago.

As you approached Mason, he gently swung his legs off of the couch cushion, patting the space where his legs had just been to signal for you to sit down. You did so carefully, still holding both bowls of food and he placed his legs across your lap, draping the blanket back over both of your legs. You were a little taken back by the display of affection in front of his parents but brushed it off as you handed the bowl to him.

He gave you a curious look, brows slightly furrowed, as he noticed the misty look in your eyes. You just replied with a slight shake of your head, a signal that the two of you would talk later.

You eagerly watched Mason and your two guests as they took the first bite of their food. It was one of Debbie’s recipes and you hoped desperately that you hadn’t let them down with the dish. As soon as you knew Mason had a surgery coming up, you had texted Debbie asking for the recipe for his favorite meal of hers, wanting to spoil him after the procedure.

Debbie and Tony both smiled, humming in appreciation as they got their first taste, and Tony remarked how good it was. Mason, ever the dramatic one, let out a groan, dropping his head onto the back of the couch, using words like “incredible” and “scrumptious” as he voiced his gratitude for the meal. He merely grinned at the way you rolled your eyes at him while your cheeks flushed red.

By the time the halftime show was wrapping up, you were collecting everyone’s dishes and carrying them into the kitchen to tidy up. Debbie appeared moments later, pushing you back into the living room and insisting that it was “the least I could do” to clean up your kitchen. You hesitated for a moment, but eventually gave in.

You walked around behind the couch, threading your fingers through Mason’s hair to get his attention, He dropped his head back, eyes gazing up at you lovingly.

“Do you need anything?” you asked as you scratch his scalp lightly with your nails.

“Hmm,” he pretended to think for a moment before tapping his lips with his index finger. “Just a kiss.”

You laughed at him, leaning down as you held your hair out of the way so it wouldn’t get in Mason’s face. You pressed your lips to his gently, expecting to give him a quick peck. But Mason seemed to have other ideas, holding your face to his for a few seconds with a hand that had reached to the back of your head.

He let you pull back after a moment, and you gazed down at his upside-down face, adorning a lovestruck grin. You weren’t sure what had gotten into him today, but something had gotten him in a touchy and lovey mood.

“Anything else?” you whispered, caught slightly off-guard by his actions. Mason just shook his head, gesturing for you to come back to sit on the couch with him, and you resumed your position under his legs.

As you watched the football game, you did your best to keep up with Mason and Tony as they talked over the strategies of the teams and the technique of the players on the screen. The exhaustion of the day was finally catching up to you, and you felt your eyes slip closed, your head falling forward just slightly before you jolted awake.

Noticing this, Mason pulled you into his side and intertwined his legs with yours. Your head rested on his shoulder as he leaned back on the cushions, shuffling down slightly so that your neck wouldn’t be uncomfortable. Too tired to protest the PDA in front of his dad, you draped your arm over his stomach and quickly fell back asleep in the comfort of Mason’s arms. He ran the tips of his fingers over the skin of your arm, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head every couple of minutes as he listened to your steady breathing.

A knowing smile took over Debbie’s face as she re-entered the living room after finishing up in the kitchen.

“She’s a keeper, that one,” she pointed to your sleeping form. Your cheek was pressed firmly to Mason’s chest, causing a slight pout to form on your lips.

He looked down at your face, a smile spread across his lips. “She’s just amazing,” he replied earnestly. “She’s so selfless and hardworking, always taking care of me. I don’t know what I would’ve done without her today.” He looked back up at his parents, holding you a little tighter. “I’m… really happy with her.”

Debbie and Tony smiled back at him, happy to see their son in a healthy and successful relationship.

“People like her are hard to come by,” Tony remarked. “You better do everything you can to keep her around.”

“Oh definitely,” Mason grinned, looking back to the football match on the TV screen. “At this point, if she leaves me, I’m going with her.”

tag list: @masonspulisic @chelseagirl98 @thoseboysinblue @lovelynikol16 @swimmingismywholelife @masonsrem @bracedes @neverinadream

#mason mount #mason mount x reader #mason mount imagine #mason mount imagines #mason mount fics #footballer fics #footballer imagine #footballer imagines #football imagine #football fics #mason mount fluff #mason mount fanfic #mason mount one shot #mason mount angst #mason mount blurb #chelsea fc

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rivangel · 1 year

Text

➥ pairing: transmasc!sub!Levi (on T, no surgery) x amab!dom!reader

➥ about: A new effect from his gender transition finds Levi. You both enjoy it.

➥ c/w: established relationship, snuggling and fondling, oral/face-fucking, multiple orgasms, premature orgasm..., praise, rough sex, rimming (for about a second), female and male terms for Levi's body parts used interchangeably, creampie

➥ wc: 2.5k

One of Levi’s favorite rituals of his every day is crawling into bed with you—usually, like tonight, long after night has fallen. Specifically, snuggled under covers; you're curled up and overtaking his back. He feels protected, even from his ingrained discomfort at feeling protected at all. A state of calm settles over him like a blanket still warm from the sun.

Naturally, he doesn’t always sleep and never perfectly, but from where he's standing, this ritual is more great and makes him more lucky than he ever could've dreamed.

He’s getting that sense that he won’t sleep for a while, nothing new, although his closed eyes are aching. You extinguished the lantern not long ago, but your breaths are soft and slow at his shoulder.

But something is making him pout, discomforted and a bit bewildered. Of course his lower half is aching and warm at the most inconvenient time—after you fucked not hours earlier—but it feels… bigger, and more concentrated.

Experimentally he presses his naked thighs together and instantly grits his teeth to swallow a sigh. Heat in his lower half blazes brightly to life. Immediately he can't resist squeezing again.

Ah, he mouths. Frustration wells up inside him. Suddenly he’s all too aware of your breathing fanning the nape of his neck.

He says your name in warning. “Stop pretending to be asleep.”

"Hm." You huff a quiet chuckle to yourself. Inwardly he rolls his eyes, pouting more.

“What’s wrong, Lee?”

He traps his tongue between his teeth as his clit does something odd. It gives a strong throb that he can feel. He inhales rather sharply, and experimentally grinds his thighs together. Heat, stronger this time, pools below his navel and culminates in a hot but dull ache.

But that's really not all that surprising. But this—sense of it is unlike anything he’s ever felt.

Your warm palm slides down his navel after he neglected to reply, down to his hip where your thumb draws lines up and down the V of his waist. “Hm?”

“I… Stop jumping to conclusions. I’m not just horny.”

"Oh... I so sincerely apologize."

Your warm breath fans his neck as your lips close in, kissing firm and open-mouthed.

"Ngh..."

He brings one arm across to his chest as much as he’s comfortable and squeezes for a dull sense of friction. No more than that. But he's surprised at himself for needing it in the first place.

Using his free hand, he links his fingers with yours and sighs tightly as he rubs his thighs together, between which aches an unfamiliar firmness. It's all slick now. You squeeze his hand.

As his pussy flutters around nothing, he mouths another curse.

The words get lodged in his throat. If he says too much, maybe it'll turn out to be nothing.

So it's better this way. He shifts his legs enough for your joined hands to comfortably nestle between, where the heat is distinctive and the skin of his very inner thighs are silky soft. Slick cum coats them; of course his lips are soaked. Just experimentally rubbing his cunt sounds sloppy and wet. Your breathing stammers as he grimaces, embarrassed.

With his free hand, and eyes tightly shut, he pins his lips apart and presses on your palm. A sharp whine sneaks up on him and escapes unbidden. His clit is definitely bigger—not worryingly so… Maybe if he was born the unluckiest male, it would pass for his cock. It’s soggy and somewhat erect, poking out from between his soft lips. The pressure makes him tense and squirm his hips lightly forward, moaning softly.

“You’re hard?” you ask, as if he’s just placed in your hands a delightful gift.

He tucks his chin against his chest, lips lightly pursed. “Am I?”

A trace of your smile kisses the base of his tense jaw. “Your cock is hard. Were you just rubbing your thighs together, and it happened that easily?”

“Ah…” He grinds into your palm, rejuvenated by a hit of confidence. “Yeah. And I was thinking about earlier.”

“That’s a bit broad.”

“Tch… I missed… having your cock stuffing me...”

He’s breathing heavier now, savoring that slow build of desire as you grow to do the same, as your cock hardens at his backside. He arches his back and you moan, grinding, sinfully, between his firm asscheeks.

You whisper in his ear, “But can’t I suck your cock first?”

“Hm…" He smirks. "I would’ve sat on your face if you hadn’t volunteered. But you’ll have to work for it. It’s fucking late and you had me busy earlier.”

“Uh-huh. That was definitely all me.”

“We'll run out of night if you start repeating yourself.”

“Hm,” you scoff, lips and teeth closing harshly on his tender throat.

His eyes almost roll back as you fucking bite him, but just as quickly as you did it you pull away, and wrap your arm around his torso. In just one smooth motion, you roll him onto his belly. Hands pressing squarely on his back tell him to keep still.

Just the suggestion of friction pressing against his clit has him grinding against the bedspread. He squirms with his hips, moaning just loud enough to be heard through the pillow under his face.

The covers remain resting over his lower back while you duck underneath and push his naked thighs further apart. His breath catches his anticipation.

"Raise your pretty ass, Lee."

He gets his knees folded under his legs, doing as you ask. He's left with his heart pounding and the excruciating sense of being exposed. And that's before you spread his wet lips and your breath passes over his hole.

"Fuck," he half-grunts, half whines, like a cat in heat. It flutters rapidly around nothing.

He opens his legs as far as they’ll go and lifts his hips higher. A hum, an approving one, licks past his rim.

“Fuck,” he squeaks, gripping the sheets by his head and resisting the urge to grab the back of your head and shove your mouth in his cunt; you've barely started. You flick your tongue, tracing his trembling rim with it.

A visible bead of sweat breaks out on his forehead while you lick him like candy. You breathe in deeply. Fuck fuck fuck.

A little more slick oozes from his pussy and onto your tongue. Moaning, long low and hungry, you grind the flat of your tongue through his pussy, spreading it around.

The pillow grows humid with his panting moans. You’re acting like you’re starving.

But there’s one problem with this, and it’s that his dick isn’t in your mouth.

He groans your name. “Hurry the fuck up… You have to—hah—hurry.”

Your heavy tongue pushes inside his cunt as if it were your cock, and swirls around the tender muscles tight circles.

“Fuck fuck fuck—!”

He backs his ass up and grips your hair like a vice, but you go even deeper if anything and at that point it’s too late anyway—his cunt clenches tight around your tongue. It snuck up on him completely. Your palm falls on his cock and rubs feverishly. With a piercing whine, and you moaning deep in his cunt, he rides your tongue for all its worth as his wet pussy pulses rhythmically. His whole body shakes as he comes on the heat of your tongue.

When he’s finished, dazed in a warm fog, his breath heaves. The supple muscles soften and relax around your tongue.

He turns his head towards the cool air with his expression contorted by embarrassment. “Sorry, I couldn’t…”

You pull out; your hands slide up from his thighs again and play with his ass, squeezing and prying him open until his thighs tremble before letting it jiggle back into place. Your lips press gently to the seats of both his thighs.

You spread him then, and close your lips directly on his tight asshole. He shudders and gapes into the pillow, keening from somewhere high in his throat. His voice cracks.

“You have a weird fucking way of making me feel better…” he grumbles, but his retort has no weight. It’s probably pointless to talk with your mouth busy in his cunt anyway.

You shift around, the bed whining.

You’ve rolled onto your back, arms wrapped around his thick thighs to force them spread open, creating a snug piece of space for your head to fit. Your mouth hovers right over his dick.

The heat of your heavy breaths make it twitch and strain between his spread lips. He pins his lower lip between his teeth and struggles to control his voice. His knuckles ache where he grips the sheets.

And he knew it was coming, from a mile away, yet his hips still snap down as the warmth from your soft lips press to his cock, kissing as you would kiss him to ease him awake in the morning. All he can do is gape soundlessly.

Gradually, you explore it with your lips as his hips tremble and his legs shake outside your head. His body has never been so sensitive in his fucking life, which is saying something. The intensity of it all is devastating—newly condensed entirely in his dick and groin.

The pillow grows humid where his mouth is buried, making him whimper pitifully to realize he’s drooling. He pushes his forehead into it, his panting obnoxious.

“I can’t, I can’t…”

He's so fucking horny. That's probably why you waited.

Your tender lips close on his cock, sucking it into your hot and welcoming mouth. As your tongue flicks his tip, and licks his shaft in firm sweeping motions, his chest wracks with dry sobs. Each revolution, he lets out a mumbled cry. Like you’re savoring your favorite meal after starving all day. Someone is mumbling—he realizes himself.

“Please, please, fucking… please. Suck it or I won’t fucking last…”

You pin in place his wiggly hips, and moan as you eagerly obey. You suck gently, offering the flat of your tongue for him to grind onto.

He humps with abandon. He’s dazed, forgotten that he’s drooling from his open mouth, with his voice clinging to time passing, and his cunt dripping on your chest. All he can grasp is the incredible climax gradually rising within his tightening body and racing pulse.

Two fingers appear, which you swirl around his dripping hole. Effortlessly, they slide in.

He coughs out some slutty cross between a moan and a cry as his pussy clamps uncontrollably around them with a grip that’s reluctant to let go. He rambles your name mingled with, more, more, more…

You moan. His cunt sucks in a third within moments, down to the knuckle. Quickly you pump, and deep inside him, curl them tightly.

“Fuck!—Wait, I’m—fuck!”

He shouts when his second climax washes over him. It’s much stronger than the last—his strength soon overpowers yours, and he fucks your tongue, grips your wrist and practically convulses while rutting on your fingers. You moan as he quakes through it.

As the aftershocks start to make him twitch away, he collapses, hearing himself whimper from far, far away as you clean up his messy cunt with long, thirsty licks.

You back away and rise up, letting him melt onto the bed. A sea of harsh heat escapes with the loss of the covers.

He turns his head just in time for you to drape your heavy body over his back—completely covering his own—and for your lips to crash against his, pulling a moan from you both. The entire lower half of your face, especially around your lips are slathered in his cum. The peaky taste is sweet and clean, and he groans to taste it as your tongue drags against his.

He arches his back and closes his hand around the rear of your thigh, using—damn near almost—his full strength to try and get your dick in him. You breathe a sweet moan down his throat.

You take hold of his hip and slide your shaft through his wet cunt, between his soft lips, and abruptly, your hips snap forward and bump his softened dick. A whiny cry he didn't even know his voice was capable of dizzies him.

"Mm... Mm..."

Your sweat and hot, heavy breaths bleed together. Neither can focus to kiss any longer, not as you fumble to guide yourself, he spreads his pussy.

The instant your cock pushes past his rim, thick and inviting, he moans. His cunt is so wet and relaxed that it eases the way for your cock easily, and you fill him up perfect. Every light pulse and throb is felt with amazing clarity.

You bury praise in his neck. "God—baby, you're so tight... Y'feel so fucking good."

He arches his back, panting into his arm. "Then fuck me, just fuck me..."

You groan, bordering on a growl. Your hips heave, and as they first clap against his ass, stuffing him full of your cock, his eyes just about roll into the back of his head.

"Yeah, fuck...!"

Fuck, he’s so full.

You groan, long and low into the dip where his neck connects to his shoulder as you draw your hips back. His cunt is pliant and soft after his orgasms, but the heat of his body ripples, throbs, squeezes so tightly now that he’s properly being fed your cock.

The drag and pull as his sopping cunt opens up for it leaves him whining endlessly. Louder as you pick up speed and put force behind your deep thrusts. Sloppy squelches mark each revolution of your hips.

His back arches under you, leaving a slight strip of space the only place over his back where you’re not pressing him into the bed. The shift pushes your cock even deeper.

"Fuck," you curse, your voice pitching towards a whine; your breaths loud and ragged in his ear. You rut desperately, making him tremble in anticipation. He’s going to come too fast. He keeps…

The muscles down your abdomen twitch and tense as you get a hand underneath him, and tug gently on his fat clit.

“Hng—! Fuck!” he cries out. “Yeah, fuck me!”

He arches his hips to meet every one of your thrusts, but eventually, with your entire weight looming over his back, and your rapid, brutally shallow thrusts, he’s pinned in place by you, at your mercy.

"Gonna come..."

This is his favorite part—the last shreds of your control and rhythm failing into delirious humping and half-thrusts.

"Levi!"

Your hips smack his ass with full strength one last time. Your cock throbs heavily inside him, straining tightly, then you stutter to a halt. You bury a groan in his neck as your cum floods into his cunt, a distinctive heat and satisfying sense of being filled.

Your cock must be overstimulated, but you pick up speed anyway, fucking your climax deep inside him and crossing a small distance left to meet his peak. He cries out when he tips over the edge, it burns straight through his blood and buzzing mind. With each thick spurt of your cum filling him, and drag up and down his dick, he quakes, giving the illusion of laying still.

Until he collapses, and you sink down on top of him, with his muscles inside softening and going all pliant. Hot cum begins to trickle out between your cock where you're still connected.

You both relax to the bed, heaving breaths, satisfied.

Levi masterlist | main masterlist

#levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman smut #levi ackerman x you #levi x reader #levi x you #levi x y/n #levi ackerman x y/n smut #levi x male reader #aot smut #snk smut

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milflewis · 5 months

Note

ok but mob au

“You really didn’t know who I work for?”

When Yuki found out that Pierre’s boss is the Sebastian Vettel, the Lion of Singapore, and the unofficial heir to Schumacher & Co., he had only raised his eyebrows. Pierre took that to mean he had already figured it out.

Yuki blinks at him. “No.”

“But.” Pierre frowns. “Why did you — I always have so many knives on me! Is this not weird to you?” He gestures at his jacket which hangs open, showing four different perfectly sharpened blades tucked into the lining.

Yuki shrugs. “You are French, yes? You like to cut things. Like cheese.”

Pierre mouths wordlessly. Cheese.

“Anyway,” Yuki adds. “You are weird, so. This would not be weird.”

The first time Sebastian meets Lewis, his runners are wet with Michael’s blood and Lewis’s hands are pressing his head into the glass door. His face aches, nose throbbing.

“Can I help you?” he says, or tries to say. It comes out vaguely smushed.

He pushes back a little just to see. Lewis lets him move half an inch before shoving him back.

“Jesus, Hamilton,” Sebastian hears Michael say. His voice cracks roughly. Sebastian nearly cried when the doctor told him Michael survived the surgery, that they got all the bullets out and he was in recovery. He swallows thickly, as the relief makes him all dizzy even now. “I know you got out today but c’mon, let him go. This is Sebastian — I talked about him.”

The hands on Sebastian’s neck disappear and he’s rubbing at his jaw when he turns around. “Ow,” Seabastian tells Michael. His cheeks are pale and his chest is wrapped in white bandages but his eyes are alert and he is grinning.

“Sebastian, this is Lewis Hamilton. Lewis, Sebastian Vettel. Mika says we are all friends here.”

He pats Mika’s ankle that is propped up on the bed beside his hip. Mika’s eyes stay closed, arms folded in his chair, chin on his chest. There are dark bruises under his eyes under now.

“Right. If Mika says so.”

Lewis steps back towards Michael’s bed, grabbing the duffle bag from where it was leaning against the wall. Sebastian looks at his bare arms, the tattoos that go all the way down to his fingers, the rings there. His jeans sit low on his hips. He needs a shave. Sebastian recognises him from his mugshot, even of his hair is longer now and his face is more lined.

They hadn’t had the time to arrange for Michael to share a cell with someone affiliated with them, and when they had got in contact with him, a week later, he had settled in well enough with his cell mate. By Michael standards at least.

Does not talk much, Michael had told Sebastian over the phone. Likes his fucking singing though. Stares at the picture of his dog. Do you think he is lonely?

When Sebastian had brought it up with Mika, the best person for this kind of thing when Corinna is away, Mika had only shrugged, and told him that he doesn’t think it is just Hamilton that is lonely, and that of fucking course anyone who could survive nine weeks in solitary with just Fernando Alonso as company in the next cell over is someone that Michael would find interesting.

Sebastian looks away from the breadth of Lewis’s shoulders in his white tank and pulls a face at Michael’s waggling eyebrows.

“How old do you think I am?” Jenson asks, as Alex adjusts his long-rifle until it sits comfortably against his shoulder, supported by the flat roof they are lying on.

Alex doesn’t answer, because he knows exactly how old Jenson is, and the fact that people continue to tell Jenson to his face that he looks ten years older than his actual age will never stop being funny.

“Ollie, how old do you think I am?” Jenson calls.

“Jen, leave the kid alone,” Alex says. “You could dye your hair.”

“Do I look like a man who would dye his hair solely to stave off questions about his age?”

“Yes,” Alex sweeps the street below them, marking the buildings bracketing the shop they are surveilling. “Ollie, how are you doing over there?”

He can hear him scramble around for a second before a burst of static. “Radio ready for orders, sir.”

Alex grimaces, still not used to that, as Jenson only laughs beside him.

“Michael? We got him.” Eddie leans back against the closed door.

Michael hums, closing his leather notebook. He leaves his fountain pen tucked into the middle so he remembers what month of intakes he was going over.

“Send him in.”

The kid’s hair is long and dirty, falling into his eyes and around his ears. His knees are all busted up under his baggy shorts. His face is drawn and thin, and he is glaring at Michael, jaw clenched.

He goes all pale when he sees who sits in front of him. Seems like he didn’t know whose car it was.

“Jesus,” Michael says. “You’re tiny, how did you reach the pedals?”

This morning, the kid — Sebastian Vettel, Michael had asked around — had hot wired Michael’s car in under two minutes and driven away. Michael had watched from the restaurant’s window, amused and impressed.

Mika had been decidedly less so when Michael told him, ten minutes later, that they were going to have to order a cab.

“I’m not that short!” The glare intensifies. His eyes are kind of freaky, Michael thinks. Very big and bright.

Michael holds out a hand, level with his chest, and squints. He lowers it considerably. Sebastian looks like he wants to bite it.

“Of course not,” Michael tells him soothingly. Eddie gives him a reproachful look. Michael holds back his eyeroll but takes his hand out of reach of Sebastian’s mouth.

“I have a job for you,” Michael says, watching Sebastian’s eyes sharpen. He smiles thinly. “If you’re up for it.”

“A job. For me? What kind of job?” Sebastian tilts his head to the side, making his eyes wide. His curls tumble across his forehead. The whole effect is rather sweet, Michael considers, delighted. This will be interesting.

Mika has been nagging at Michael to stop picking up strays but he thinks he will agree with Michael on this one.

Michael stretches out his back, legs interlocked at the ankles, until something clicks along his spine. He exhales slowly, sinking back into the shitty mattress.

They called for lights out fifteen minutes ago. Lewis is still in the bunk above him. Michael looks at the scratches across the metal rods. He had a good workout today, no interruptions, and his arms are nicely sore.

Seventeen minutes.

Lewis moves in his bed, rolling over to the right and for a moment, Michael thinks he will roll right off the edge, but then he is swinging down, silent. Michael holds himself very still.

"I am not interested in fucking."

"Yeah," Lewis says. "I heard."

Michael swallows. The sharpened edge of Lewis's plastic spoon presses into his throat. Lewis is dense and solidly heavy, knees on either side of his hips, one foot digging into his knee.

Michael has seen him fight. In an enclosed space like this, and unarmed, he isn't sure who would come out the better. His fingers itch with excitement.

"I found the picture you left," Lewis says quietly. The spoon doesn't move an inch. His eyes gleam in the dark like an animal.

"Okay," Michael says, not bothering to pretend not to know what he is talking about.

Lewis was fine this morning. He hummed to himself the entire way to breakfast, and he spotted Michael in the gym without even being asked. It wasn't until after dinner that he went all weird and still in himself.

Lewis presses down, just a little. Michael raises an eyebrow.

"Is he alive?" Lewis asks like he doesn't want to show his hand but is doing so anyway. His mouth trembles at the corners. Michael frowns at him. He has seen Lewis hustle in the yard at card games enough times to know that his poker face is better than this.

"Is he."

Oh. Jesus.

Michael laughs. It is too loud of a sound for where they are. He laughs anyway.

"You have issues," he tells Lewis, who only sends him a cutting look.

"That was supposed to make you feel better! Stop crying and all. You miss him, yes? Thought I could help."

Lewis stares at him. Blinks those animal eyes.

Michael makes a frustrated sound in the back of his mouth. He misses Mika. He never has to talk when Mika is around.

"He is being taken care of in that shelter you put him in. I had my people check. I was being nice! Friendly too!"

"We're friends," Lewis says slowly as if he expects Michael to say no.

"Obviously. You are being ridiculous," Michael says. "You think I would kill a dog? No!" He is a little hurt.

"You are the chief suspect in fifteen open murders," Lewis says, flat.

"Not of dogs!"

Lewis looks at him for a long moment before rolling his eyes. "How are you still alive, man? For real? I thought it was a threat."

He pushes off Michael and pulls himself up onto the top bunk, as silent as he climbed down at the start.

"No one else would see this as a bad thing."

He can hear Lewis roll his eyes.

"Literally every other person here would think you were sending a message. And not a good one."

"I was being nice!"

There is a clang of metal against metal, and their cell bars rattle. "Oi! You two! Shut the fuck up. Save the fighting or fucking for the morning."

"Gross, man," Lewis says, and Michael kicks at the underside of his bunk. "You are gross."

Maybe Mika was right when he said that Lewis might not take his generosity in the way he wanted it, Michael considers. He decides not to tell him. He would be too smug if he did.

He palms the sharpened spoon that Lewis had held to his neck and left on his pillow, beside his cheek. It is small and narrow. Michael presses his thumb against the slice, feeling it. He smiles, and tucks it under his sheet. He had needed a new one.

+1.

Sebastian had been small when Michael met him. All eyes and bony knees and dirty hair.

Then he opened up his mouth and his personality crawled out.

Michael has never looked back.

#listen. i entertain myself #sewis #yukierre #makkinen #five head cannon ask game #kyle tag #niamh.asks #little fics

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starmocha · 3 months

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12:30 PM Checkup Zayne + Son | 767 words | AO3 Zayne has an appointment with a very adorable doctor. A/N: Maybe I’m ovulating or something lmao but I want this man’s babies. But since he’s fictional, I’ll settle for writing little self-indulgent ficlets. 🫠

It was one of Zayne’s very few days off, and unfortunately, he found himself at the doctor’s office for a routine checkup. It was fortunate, however, that the doctor was someone he was very familiar with and trusted completely with his health. As a matter of fact, the very esteemed doctor was his three-year-old son and the so-called doctor’s office was his son’s bedroom.

He watched with amusement as the little boy, a spitting image of his father minus the hair color, adjusted his doctor play clothes. Zayne could barely contain his chuckle when his son put on the faux round-rimmed glasses and walked over to him holding a clipboard while maintaining a comically stoic expression on his young face.

“Patient’s name is…Daddy!” the young doctor declared, looking expectantly at his patient.

Zayne chuckled and nodded. “Correct, Doctor.”

“I have to listen to Daddy’s heart,” the little boy said, holding up his toy stethoscope. He pressed the toy to his father’s chest, and looked thoughtful as he “listened” to the grown man’s heart. After a few seconds, he nodded approvingly. “Heart is good, Daddy.”

Zayne sighed in relief. “Thank goodness, Doctor.” He blinked in surprise as his son pulled out a reflex hammer.

“Daddy’s knee now!”

Over the next few minutes, the young doctor performed a thorough examination on his patient, checking his ear, eyes, throat, and so on, all while diligently scribbling his notes down onto his clipboard. He rubbed his chin thoughtfully as he reviewed the notes from the wellness exam.

“Well, Doctor,” Zayne started, looking at the young boy expectantly, “Is there a diagnosis?”

The boy nodded grimly. “Daddy is tired.”

Zayne held back his laugh at the child’s acute observation. “What would be your prescription for such an ailment then?”

“One strawberry candy every day,” his doctor replied, adding another scribble to his clipboard.

Zayne actually chuckled this time. “Consider it done.” His voice took on a serious tone as he looked at the little doctor concerned. “Doctor, I believe my insurance isn’t covered under your practice. May I use an alternative payment?”

The young doctor looked thoughtful as he rubbed his chin again before holding up three chubby fingers, answering with a serious expression, “Three macarons.”

“Outrageous!” Zayne exclaimed, mock-offended, “My previous checkup only costed me one box of apple juice.”

Zayne wondered belatedly if his tone and expression might have seemed a touch stiff when he realized his doctor was starting to tear up. He knelt down to his son’s level and wiped at the boy’s eyes, apologizing softly, “I didn’t mean to upset you. Daddy is just joking.” He smiled when his son calmed down and he rubbed the boy’s cheek affectionately, “Three macarons it is, but I am afraid payment will have to be postponed until after naptime.”

“No nap!” The boy crossed his arms defiantly. “I still have to check Mr. Seal and Pan-Pan and the Windy Carrots and—”

“Even doctors take naps,” Zayne interrupted with a firm voice before softening it again, “One might even argue that doctors enjoy naps the most.”

The boy looked up at him dejected. “Do you nap, Daddy?”

“Yes,” Zayne answered with a nod as he helped his son remove the doctor costume and put away some of the toys. He gathered his son into his arms as he carried the little boy to his bed. “Sometimes I nap in my car or office in between surgeries.” He tucked his son into bed, kissing his cheek. “Now, won’t you be a good boy and take your nap for Daddy?”

“Story?” his son gave him the most pitiful pout a three-year-old can muster.

Zayne sighed, half-exasperated and half-amused. “You are just like your mother,” he muttered to himself before sitting down on the edge of the boy’s bed. “Alright, one story.”

Zayne outstretched his hand, conjuring up snowy imageries as he spun a tale with evil carrots that had taken over an innocent kingdom. Thankfully, one brave seal stood up against this evil force and taken them down along with help from Happy Snowman and its friends.

The boy watched the snowy scenery with rapt fascination as it changed following Zayne’s storytelling. As Zayne neared the end of his impromptu story, he noticed his son’s sleepy face, catching sight of a yawn escaping. He smiled to himself and quickly wrapped up the story as he re-tucked the sleepy boy into bed.

“Sweet dreams,” Zayne whispered, kissing the top of his son’s head as the little boy finally dozed off, “When you wake up, Daddy will take you and Mommy out for macarons.”

#love and deepspace #love and deepspace zayne #love and deepspace fanfiction #lnds fanfics #x — fanfics #lnds series — sweet little snowdrop #see i'm capable of writing something other than angst #🫠#consider this a filler #because i am coming for rafayel with the angst next #and that fish is going to hurt good #😊

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differenteagletragedy · 6 months

Text

The grand return of Our Life Swap AU! Takes place when Baxter and MC are like 16. They are, as always, the silliest.

"How are you feeling, Baxter?"

"Great. Good. Thank you so much."

You bit back a grin as you buckled your seatbelt. Baxter, your best friend, had just gotten his wisdom teeth removed, and he was high as a kite. It was an unusual set of circumstances -- usually his parents didn't want him to have anything to do with yours, but they'd planned to be away on business when his dentist had insisted on having the procedure done, so Ma made the time to take him to his appointment.

"I'm fantastic," he said, pulling you away from your thoughts -- almost literally, with his hand firmly petting your hair.

You looked over at him, sitting next to you in the backseat of your mothers' old car. He'd sort of fallen into the seat, his usually prim and proper posture exchanged for what could most accurately be described as "jelly bones." His head was leaned as far back as it could go against the headrest, and he was gazing at you with so much adoration that you could barely stand it.

You liked him, as so much more than a friend. You liked talking to him, you liked spending time with him, you liked looking at him. And even as you watched him lurch forward and try unsuccessfully to spit the gauze out of his mouth, you thought you might have fallen in love with him.

"No no, Baxter, you have to keep that in your mouth," Ma said, looking at him through the rearview mirror as she pulled out of her parking space.

"Don't like it," he said, making motions that weren't unlike a cat trying to cough up a hairball. "Tastes funny."

"A little help here, kid?" Ma asked.

You put a gentle hand on Baxter's shoulder to push him back against the seat, and when that didn't work, you put your hand on his head. He let out a silly giggle when you pushed him back that way instead, and when he was seated properly again, he turned and smiled at you.

"You're so pretty," he said, smiling wider so you could see the gauze tucked in his cheeks.

"Thank you," you replied, hoping that you weren't blushing but taking solace in the fact that he probably wouldn't remember it if you were.

"You're my best friend," he continued. "And you're really really pretty."

With what seemed to be great effort, he lifted his head and peered up at Ma. When she didn't acknowledge him, he flopped back again, then leaned just a little towards you.

"Can you keep a secret?" he asked in a whisper that was somehow louder than his normal talking voice. You nodded, and he leaned in a little closer, then whispered, "I like you."

Before you could answer, he chose to elaborate, saying, "I mean to say that I like you as more than a friend. I like you in a romantic way. In a way that makes me want to be your boyfriend."

He held up a finger and did what you imagined he thought was a "come here" gesture, but was really just a strange little shake -- you knew him well enough to know what he wanted though, so you leaned in, heart racing.

"I have a crush on you," he said with his mouth by your ear.

You'd dreamed of him saying those words for years. This wasn't exactly how you thought it might happen -- he was slurring his words a bit, and the gauze made them come out a little garbled. He gave you another sweet smile, and a thick line of drool dripped down from his chin onto his shirt.

You weren't sure what to say, so you didn't say anything. You noticed Ma glance at you in the mirror, then she began engaging Baxter in a spirited conversation about bananas.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

By that night, Baxter had come down from the post-surgery high. He was spending a few days at your house, sleeping in your old room so you and your moms could keep an eye on him.

He had been taking a nap, but when you opened the door to check on him, he gave you a wave.

"How are you doing?" you asked. You hadn't been able to get what he'd said out of your head, and you were having a hard time meeting his eyes.

"About as well as can be expected," he answered with a small smile that tugged on your heartstrings. At that bit of sweetness, you made the choice to fight through the awkwardness and ask him what was on your mind.

"Do you remember what you said?" you questioned. "In the car after the surgery?"

He groaned, saying "Don't remind me," and your stomach dropped.

Trying to laugh it off, you told him, "Yeah, it was pretty weird."

"'Weird' is such a nice way to put it," he said. "It was downright mortifying. I never would have said any of that had I been in my right mind."

And there it was. He didn't actually like you, enough that it was "mortifying" to him that he'd said he did. It hurt, and you felt tears welling up, but you tried to fight them.

"I'm honestly sorry you had to hear that," Baxter went on, not noticing the shift in your mood. "Can you imagine if I'd actually meant any of that?"

He gave a shiver, like the things he'd said were the worst things he could imagine. You almost gasped, it hurt so much.

"Hey," he finally said, his tone a bit softer. "What's wrong?"'

"Nothing," you answered quickly. "I just didn't know, I guess ... I don't know ..."

"What do you mean?" he asked. "You know good and well that I don't like bananas nearly as much as I expressed to your mother."

Bananas. He was talking about bananas, not you. It was such a goofy misunderstanding, you started laughing.

"That's all you remember?" you asked, moving besides him to straighten his hair.

"Why, did I say something else?"

You paused your movements for just a moment, then forced yourself to continue. You pushed the black strands away from his forehead before patting his head and giving him a grin.

"Nope. Nothing."

#our life beginnings and always #baxter ward #our life #our life baxter #baxter x mc #baxter x reader #olba baxter #baxter x you #baxter ward x reader #baxter ward x you #baxter ward x mc #our life swap au

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guess-my-next-obsession · 1 year

Text

Peña’s Anatomy, Chapter Seventeen:

pairing: surgeon au!javier peña x f!resident!reader (Lucky)

rating: E (18+ ONLY, this one is just fluff and smut yall, food play?, body worship??, oral (m&f rec), fingering, unprotected piv, Javi has a mouth on him)

wc: 5k

series masterlist | Javi P masterlist

Two Months Later

“Jav!” you called from the kitchen, your eyes locked on the veggies you were chopping for tonight’s Thanksgiving dinner you and Javier were hosting. Tonight was a big deal not only because of the holiday, but because this marked Mickey’s first outing since recovering from her surgery and you and Javi’s first ever big holiday together. You had your shifts for the week covered by a coworker and Javi had taken the week off solely because the thought of you at home—in bed—without him sounded like torture.

Rounding the corner from the living room, Javi walked up behind you and wrapped his arms around your middle, his chin resting on your shoulder. “Yea, bebita?”

“Can you baste the turkey?” You set your knife down and turned your head and pecked his cheek. “Pretty please?”

“One condition,” he said, resting his hands on your hips so that he could turn you to face him, pinning you between his body and the counter. He brought his lips close to yours, smiling at the way you leaned forward to seek them out. “Gotta give me a real kiss.”

You grinned and crossed your arms over his shoulders, pulling him even closer as your lips molded together.

“Gotta get my fill before everyone gets here,” he mumbled as he pecked your lips. “Matter of fact—“ He pulled away to look down at his watch, finding that the two of you had at least another hour before anyone dared to show up. “Why don’t we go kill some time in the bedroom?”

“I have a feast to prepare,” you chuckled, lifting your hand to cover his mouth as he leaned in for another persuasive kiss.

“Can I at least have a little appetizer while you work?” he asked, flickering his eyes down to your lower half.

“Javi,” you laughed, playfully pushing him away. “We both know I can’t multitask while you’re doing that.”

“Because I’m so good at it?” he smiled, walking over to the oven to baste the turkey like you asked.

“And so humble,” you snarked.

“So what’s on the menu for tonight besides my beautiful turkey?” he said, his eyes focused on the slowly goldening skin of the turkey he’d insisted on being in charge of preparing.

“Mashed potatoes, mac and cheese, some roasted veggies, sweet potato casserole—“

“Oh,” he moaned at the mention of your world famous sweet potato casserole that you made for him for the first time last month. “Can you make extra of that? I want leftovers of the leftovers of the leftovers, bebita.”

You smiled at his enthusiasm, and nudged your head towards the fridge.

“Look in there and tell me if that’s enough,” you said.

Javi finished basting the turkey and tucked it back into the oven before heading over to the fridge and opening it to find two large rectangular pans of the casserole that you’d prepped the night before.

“God, I’ve never loved you more.”

After two hours of working on the feast, 2 p.m. rolled around and the first of your guests arrived at your door.

“Hey!” You greeted Mickey with a tight hug as though you hadn’t seen her in months when in reality you’d just been over to visit her last week. “How’re you feeling?”

“Really good, actually. The incisions have finally healed, the baby is doing good, I’ve got full range of motion in my neck again, and…” she said, smiling widely as she slowly lifted her left hand to show off the diamond on her ring finger, effectively causing your jaw to drop to the ground.

“Holy shit—“ Javi said, finally meeting you at the door. “That’s, uh…congrats, Mick.”

You turned to him with a suspicious look, unsure of why he looked pale as a ghost but chose to drop it in favor of getting the full engagement story from Mickey.

“Come inside and tell me everything, I’m stunned,” you said, pulling Mickey into the house with your arm looped around hers.

“It was pretty low key. Rich took me out to dinner a few nights ago to celebrate my recovery, or so I thought, and long story short, he proposed and I wanted to wait to tell you in person—“

“Congratu-fucking-lations, Mick,” you gushed, squeezing her arm. “He’s got great taste.”

“I doubt he actually picked it out,” Javi said, inserting himself into the conversation, earning a glare from you.

“Well, he’s the one who paid for it, all that matters to me,” Mickey quipped.

“Is Richard coming tonight?” you asked, leading her into the kitchen.

“No, he’s stuck at the hospital,” she frowned. “It’s his first shift back since my surgery, and honestly I didn’t understand you and Javi wanting to be around each other all the time until now. Now, it feels so weird to be somewhere without him.”

“Aw, she has a heart,” you teased.

Mickey glanced over her shoulder to check for Javi’s presence, finding him out in the backyard smoking a cigarette while McCartney ran around in the leaves.

“Speaking of Javi…is he in a bad mood or something?” she asked. “What was all that about?”

“I don’t know!” you whispered enthusiastically. “He’s been totally normal, maybe even a little extra-lovey dovey. I don’t know why he’s suddenly so…weird.”

“Well, you did say he wanted to propose.”

“You don’t think—“

“I think me and Richard accidentally stole his thunder,” she said, wincing.

“He wouldn’t propose to me in front of people,” you countered. “I’ve made myself clear on that point.”

“Well, I can’t think of anything else. Unless he’s secretly been in love with me this whole time and just got his heart broken,” she joked.

“That’s a good point. Does Richard eat ass? Javi eats ass. You might want to reconsider your decision,” you played along as you stirred the stuffing in a big pot.

“You know, Richard doesn’t go…down,” she blurted, earning a gasp.

“You don’t mean—“

“Yep,” she nodded. “But surprisingly, he gets the job done without it.”

You winced, shaking your head. “Everytime I learn something new about Dick Mann, I regret it.”

The sliding glass patio door opening signaled Javi’s entrance to the house, his scowl on unabashedly as he walked into the kitchen, smelling like smoke, to grab a rare beer for himself.

“Jav?” you called carefully, earning his eyes on yours. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” he shrugged, though the dryness in his tone did little to persuade you.

“You sure? You look a little—“

“I’m fine, bebita,” he assured, walking over to press a kiss on your cheek. “Sorry I smell like smoke.”

“You wear it well,” you said, reaching to pinch his chin. “When’s your dad getting here?”

“I get to meet Peña Sr.?” Mickey interjected with a playful smile.

“He’s supposed be here any second—“

The doorbell rang as if on cue.

“I’ll get it,” Javi said, giving you one more peck before walking off to the front door.

“Is he like…is he like Javi? Brooding and grumpy?” Mickey asked in a whisper, making you smile.

“Javi’s not like that,” you argued playfully. “But yeah, Chucho and Javi are pretty similar. Chucho’s a little more friendly, I’d say.”

“Mija,” Chucho walked in with a hobble, resting on his cane as he made his way to you to give you a quick hug. “Smells good in here.”

“Thank you,” you smiled before gesturing at Mickey. “This is my friend Mickey.”

“Ah, the walking miracle,” he said, hobbling over to give her a handshake. “How are you feeling?”

“I’m feeling much better, thank you,” she smiled. “Which one of these two broke HIPAA to tell you?”

“Javi,” he replied, selling out his sim instantly.

“You weren’t my client anymore,” Javi defended himself as he walked in. “Makes it a little better.”

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to sue you, Dr. Peña,” she said. “Although, judging by your house, I think you could survive it.”

“Oh! Speaking of fancy things, guess who finally got a car,” you said, smiling proudly.

“Is it here?” Mickey sprung up from her seat at the island.

“No, it’s still at the dealership because Javi insisted I needed to upgrade the tires and stereo—“

“You did,” he said. “Better to get it done now by the dealership than to have a mechanic upcharge you later.”

“What did you get, Mija?” Chucho asked, accepting a beer from Javi.

“I got a Honda,” you replied. “Nothing too fancy, but fancy by my standards.”

“I tried to convince her to get a Volvo or something like that, but—“

“But I’m not an attending yet and can’t afford car payment,” you reasoned.

“And she refuses to let me help,” he lovingly scolded, making eyes at you from across the room.

“I offered to by his truck—“

“That old thing?” Chucho asked, chuckling at the mere thought. “

“That’s what I said,” Javi agreed.

The doorbell ringing again signaled the arrival of your next set of guests: Connie, Steve, and their daughter Olivia.

“Y’all ain’t got the game on?” Steve asked as he got settled in the living room with Olivia and her toys, Javi and Chucho joining them while you stayed in the kitchen with Connie and Mickey to finish off dinner.

“Oh my god!” Connie squealed at the sight of Mickey’s ring before pulling her into the living room with her. “Steve, look at this rock on Mickey’s finger.”

Now all alone, your guests busy with conversation on the football game blaring on your living room TV, Javi snuck his way into the kitchen to join you for a moment of privacy.

“Hey,” he said, sticking his hands in his front pockets. “I wanted to talk about why I got so…weird about Mickey’s ring—“

“Oh no, are you actually in love with her?” you joked.

“What? God, no. No, I just…” He sighed, shaking his head with an embarrassed smile on his face. “I went ring shopping.”

“Oh?” you tried to veil your inner glee at the news.

“And I landed on one. Then, like an idiot, I showed Steve and Mann a picture of it, and—“

“Oh,” you said, meeting his eyes. “Javi, was that—“

“He stole my fucking ring,” he sighed and then chuckled. “I know it’s stupid, but I put a lot of thought and research into the perfect fucking ring for you, only to see it on Mickey’s finger at the door, and I just—“

“Oh, baby,” you cooed, walking over to him to slide your arms around his waist, your head resting on his chest.

“I had to smoke a cigarette to chill the fuck out about it,” he admitted, wrapping his arms around you.

“Jav, you could give me a ring-pop and I’d think it’s the most beautiful thing in the entire fucking world,” you said, lifting your head to look up at him. “Don’t put so much pressure on yourself.”

“I know, I just want it to be perfect,” he mumbled shyly, bringing an adoring smile to your face. You lifted your hand up to rest on his cheek, your thumb swiping over the coarse hair at the corner of his lips.

“Javi, I already have the most perfect thing in the world right here.” Javi leaned in for a slow kiss, each swipe of his lips and tongue against yours lighting sparks of arousal deep in your stomach, forcing you to pull away from him with a chuckle. “You’re going to distract me.”

“You’re always distracting me,” he said, brushing his thumbs over your hips. “Meet me in the bathroom for a quickie?”

“Can’t,” you smirked. “Dinner’s done.”

With everyone's stomachs stuffed full of turkey and stuffing and everything deliciously bad for the human heart, you sent them all off with a plate of leftovers aside from Chucho who was staying the night.

Your feet were sore from standing on them all day, and since Javi had already put away all the leftovers and stuffed the dishwasher full of every dirty dish in the house, you found yourself laying across the sectional with your feet in Javi’s lap, his hands working away every ache while he and Chucho poked fun at the fact that you were already forcing them into watching Elf.

“The holiday isn’t over yet, mija,” Chucho said, tipping his beer back for a sip.

“Shh, just pretend it’s midnight,” you replied, your voice thick with exhaustion.

“Yeah, pops. Best if we just go along with it, otherwise it’ll just get worse,” he teased, shooting you a playful look.

You were too busy admiring him to come up with any sort of clever response, his tousled hair, unbuttoned jeans, navy blue sweater and strong hands making it hard to pay attention to anything but him.

“You sleepy?” he asked, running his hand along your shin soothingly, as if he had no clue of the dirty thoughts starting to whirl around in your mind.

“Yeah, I should probably go to bed,” you said, hoping that he could pick up on things without you needed to tell him.

“Well, if she’s going to bed, you and I can watch that Western I was telling you about,” Chucho said. Javi’s eyes softly closed shut, as if he was gathering his patience.

“How about we watch it tomorrow, pops? I’m exhausted—“

“Yeah right,” Chucho chuckled, looking at the two of you suspiciously before standing up. “Thank god the guest room’s on the other side of the house.”

“Good night, Chucho!” you called, wincing in embarrassment at the way he saw right through you and Javi.

“Good night, mija. Good night, Javi.”

“Night,” Javi called back before turning to you with a chuckle. “I didn’t even realize you were trying to fool around. I really thought we were gonna go to bed.”

“Your dad picked up on it easily enough.” Javi laughed again and nodded before shifting on the couch to crawl on top of you, your thighs parting to welcome him. You admired him for a minute as he hovered above you, your fingers carding through his hair. “I love you like this.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know,” you shrugged. “You just look very cozy and at home.”

“I am cozy and at home,” he said. “And stuffed full of your sweet potato casserole.”

“Was it good?”

“Not nearly as good as what I’m craving right now,” he said, leaning down to press a kiss to your jaw. You giggled, pushing him away so that you could speak.

“Maybe we should take this into the bedroom seeing as we have a guest,” you said, trailing your hands up underneath his sweater to feel the smooth, warm expanse of his stomach. Javi rested his forehead against yours and sighed contently at your touch, his hips pressing into yours.

“Yeah, let’s go while I can still think straight,” Javi rasped, lifting himself off of you and tugging you onto your feet, walking you around the corner and down the hallway to the bedroom with his hand clasped with yours. The minute he opened the door, he had you pressed against it, his mouth on yours while one hand pinned both of yours to the cool wood. “I wanna try something tonight.”

“W-what?” you managed, still breathless from his kiss.

“Nothing too crazy,” he smiled. “Go lay down, I’ll be right back.”

“Okay,” you replied with a hesitant chuckle, watching him from over your shoulder as he walked out of the room and down the hall towards the kitchen. Stripping out of your clothes, you rested yourself in the middle of the bed on your side, playfully replicating Burt Reynold’s iconic centerfold.

When Javi returned, he carried a can of the whipped cream you used for the pumpkin pie earlier, a grin on his face as he took you in.

“Waiting for your cover shot?” he asked, setting the whipped cream on the nightstand so that he could strip out of his own clothes. “Actually—“

“What?” you giggled, watching his bare ass as he walked over to his closet to grab his polaroid camera. “No, I’m bloated and—“

“Shut your pretty mouth,” he ordered with a smile, holding the camera up to his eye. “Smile, baby.”

You begrudgingly obliged, resting your hand over your stomach to try and hide the swell of it, but Javi sucked his teeth in response.

“Move that out of the way,” he commanded, waving his hand at you. “It’s ruining the shot.”

“Javi,” you laughed. “My stomach is ruining the shot.”

“Do I have to put something in your mouth to stop ridiculous shit like that from coming out?” he asked. “You’re beautiful. I love you like this.”

Suddenly, it all clicked for you. You loved Javi the most when he was undone and comfortable and satisfied, why wouldn’t he feel the same towards you?

“I love you,” you said, moving your arm to give him the shot he wanted now that your insecurities seemed to vanish. Clicking the camera, he lowered it from his eye and set it down on the nightstand to let the polaroid develop while he climbed onto the bed and rolled you over onto your back.

“I love you,” he replied, sitting back on his ankles between your open thighs, his hands smoothing over the inside of them. “And I can’t wait to fucking suffocate between your thighs. That’s my ideal way to go, I think.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you chuckled, reaching to grab his neck to tug him down to your lips, his hands holding him up as his tongue swiped across yours, his cock slowly sliding over your folds pulling a moan from his chest.

“Fuck,” he hissed as the head of it caught your entrance. “You’re distracting me from my plans.”

“Then hurry up and get on with them,” you purred, lightly scratching the baby hairs at the nape of his neck.

Javi let out a puff of amusement and kissed your lips one more time before making his way down your jaw and neck, giving ample attention to that sensitive spot you love for him to nip at. You felt him reaching over for the whipped cream before he pulled away completely, popping the lid off the can and shaking it in his hand.

“You’re already sweet, but I figure since it’s a holiday and you made me wait so long for dessert, I should treat myself,” he said, smirking as he pressed the nozzle over the stiffened peaks of your nipples, creating two messy dollops of whipped cream over them. “Look at you…”

You batted your eyes at him as you used a finger to scoop up some of the cream, wrapping your lips around it and sucking it clean with an exaggerated pop just to feel his cock twitch between your thighs.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he groaned, lowering his tongue to the half-cleaned mountain of whipped cream to get a taste for himself. Your breath hitched as you watched him greedily clean up the mess he created, sucking your peak into his mouth while his eyes locked with yours.

“Fuck, Jav,” you moaned, the softness of his tongue against your sensitive skin giving your brain a rush of dopamine.

Javier’s hand spread wide over your stomach and ribs, warming your skin up as he licked a trail over to your other breast to give it the same slow, teasing treatment. Bringing the can back, he drew a straight line from your sternum down to your belly button and used wet, messy kisses to clean off the cream before licking a broad stripe back up to your neck. You caught him while he was still close enough to kiss and pulled him in, licking over the excess sweetness on his lips and tongue before using all your strength to roll him over onto his back so that you could have your turn at worshiping him.

“What are you doing?” Javi laughed, resting his hands on the top of your thighs as you drew a heart with the whipped cream over his broad chest.

“You got to have dessert, why can’t I?” you purred, lowering your tongue slowly to the cream while he watched you with a slack jaw. You traced the heart with your tongue and kissed away any remainders before scooting lower on the mattress until your lips were pressing teasingly chaste kiss to the underside of his cock that rested against his stomach.

“Baby, fuck,” Javi moaned, using one hand to cradle your face. Drawing a line of whipped cream from the head to his balls, Javi waited with bated breath for you to clean it all up, your lust-drunk eyes locked on his as you started at his balls. He hissed in pleasure as you sucked each of them into your mouth at a time before letting them go with a pop to focus on his shaft. Spreading your tongue flat and wide, you slowly licked his shaft clean of any of the sweet, airy cream before gripping him at his base and taking the head into your mouth. “Oh, fuck.”

“You taste so good,” you purred as you let him go to stroke him in your palm.

“Baby, I want to taste you,” he begged, giving you those round eyes of his that always got him his way.

“Then come get it,” you taunted, prompting him to practically throw you onto your back, the mattress bouncing from the force as you giggled at his display of strength until you felt his tongue flatten over your folds. “Oh, shit, Javi.”

“Not laughing now, are you?” he smirked, pressing a soft kiss to your inner thigh before going back to your cunt, his tongue working you up slowly and gently until he decided your clit was ready for some attention. Your fingers gripped his cropped hair to hold him against you, giving him little room to breathe, not that he minded in the slightest.

“Right fucking there, baby,” you purred, locking eyes with him from across the expanse of your body. “Don’t stop.”

“Sweeter than the whipped cream,” he mumbled, kissing your clit before sucking it into his mouth until your thighs were shaking.

“Fuck, Javi…you’re perfect,” you moaned, letting your head fall back against the mattress. “Want your fingers.”

“Yeah?” he rasped, his tone teasing. “How many, baby? One?” Your breath hitched as he slipped his pointer finger inside of you, slowly working you open until he was hooking it up towards your favorite spot. “Two?” He added another and earned a wanton mewl that you quickly silenced with your hand over your mouth, your brows scrunched in pleasure at the thick width of his skillful fingers. “Can you take three?”

“Yes, fuck, please,” you managed, spreading your legs even wider out of sheer need to let him take all of you, whatever he wanted.

Javier’s thick fingers curved into you, the room filling with vulgar wet sounds as he targeted that spot inside while swirling his tongue over you until your entire body was shaking with your impending release. He wore a grin the entire time as you whispered chants of praise and used his name like he was your lord and savior.

“Come on, baby,” he purred, sucking your clit into his mouth just right. Your hands clawed at the comforter for purchase as your brain went fuzzy with euphoria, every nerve in your body singing his name. “There you go. Such a good fucking girl—“

“Javi, fuck me,” you begged, still lost in your climax. Your hands reached for his strong arms to pull him on top of you, not that he needed any persuading. Javi was quick to mold his lips to yours as he gripped his weeping length at the base, lining it up with your still pulsing heat before sinking in all the way in one slick thrust.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” he hissed, his face falling into the crook of your neck as his hips worked on their own accord, snapping into yours like he needed to in order to survive. “Baby, shit,” he whispered into your ear before nipping at your earlobe. “You’re so fucking wet. Do you hear that?”

Both of you silenced your moans and pants for a moment to hear the sinful squelch of his cock moving in and out of you, the sound alone making you whine and rest your hands on his ass to pull him impossibly closer. Javier managed to compose himself enough to sit up on his knees, rolling you onto your side while he was still inside of you. You gasped at the new position, the way he hugged your leg to his chest as he straddled the other, his cock pressing in so deep you swore you could feel him in your stomach.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he grunted, bringing one hand down to slap your ass just hard enough for it to sting pleasurably. “Look at you. All fucking mine, aren’t you?”

“Yes, Javi, fuck,” you cried, your face ruined with pleasure as he inched you closer and closer to your second release with his voice.

“You like the way I fit inside you? The way I make you cum, baby?” he asked, a proud smile on his face as he watched your face scrunch even more.

“Javi, I’m so close,” you whined, reaching to grip his forearm. “Please don’t stop.”

“Not gonna stop, baby,” he assured, kissing your ankle as it rested on his shoulder. “Not gonna stop until we cum together, alright? You feel so fucking good. Always feel so fucking good.”

“Javi!” you cried, unable to control your volume even with the looming knowledge that Javi’s father was just on the other side of the quiet home.

“That’s it,” he purred, slowing his thrusts as your cunt squeezed him so tight that he had no choice but to join you in your ecstasy. “Fuck.”

You hardly had a minute to catch your breath before McCartney’s paw began scratching at your door, a chuckle slipping from Javi’s lips as he let your leg drop from his hold, his chest heaving from exertion.

“Forgot about our son,” he panted, pressing a kiss to your shoulder as you remained spent and curled up on your side. “Gotta pull out,” he warned, a hiss slipping from both of your lips as he carefully slid out of you, Javi’s eyes glued to the spend that dripped out of you in turn. “Fuck. I’m glad we took the week off.”

You laughed, rolling over onto your back with a satisfied smile, your head turning to follow him as he slipped on a pair of briefs and flannel pajama pants before opening the bedroom door up for McCartney.

“Hi, Macca,” you rasped, welcoming the dog onto the bed with a scratch behind his ears.

“Sorry kid, Mommy and daddy were wrestling,” Javi said, slipping under the covers on his side of the bed. Willing yourself up, you winced at the feeling of Javi’s spend leaking down your thighs as you walked to the bathroom to relieve yourself and clean up a bit before putting on your usual sleep clothes and tucking in beside your two favorite boys.

“That new position,” you started, rolling onto your side to watch as Javi pet McCartney as he laid in between the two of you.

“Good?”

“Really good,” you said, smiling at the way your cunt still pulsed with aftershocks. “And your dirty talk.”

“Yeah? You like my voice, bebita? Like it when I’m cocky?” he teased, shooing McCartney down to the foot of the bed so that he could fill the gap between your bodies, his lips pressing against yours in something slow and sensual.

“I like when you’re cocky in the bedroom,” you corrected with a smirk, tracing the line of his jaw with your fingertip. “Did you have a good Thanksgiving?”

“I had the best Thanksgiving,” he said, pecking your forehead. “How about you?”

“I had a really, really good day,” you smiled. “And I’m glad you didn’t propose to me in front of everyone on a holiday.”

“Was that really on the table?” he chuckled.

“Mickey thought that’s why you were so sour about her engagement,” you replied.

“No, I know you too well by now to think that you’d be into something like that,” he said. “I’m not into a huge public proposal either. Too many people watching me be happy, doesn’t sit right.”

You laughed and nodded, understanding him completely.

“I don’t really even want a huge wedding,” he continued. “Just the people who really matter.”

“That’s exactly what I want. Something tiny, here in our backyard or at your dad’s ranch,” you said. “Just me and you and like ten other people.”

“I love you,” he said, leaning in to kiss you again. “And I’m gonna get the ring right, and then I’m going to propose right, and then I’m going to marry you right. If that’s the only thing I do right in this lifetime, that’s fucking plenty.”

“Dr. Peña, I am so glad I fucked you in that on call room half a year ago,” you beamed, curling into his warmth and resting your head on his chest. “That’ll forever be the best irresponsible decision I’ve ever made.”

“We were just kids back then,” he chuckled. “Or at least I was.”

“I think if we were to go back and time and tell them everything that we’ve been through, they’d call us fucking idiots.”

“Younger Javi wouldn’t buy it solely because I still don’t know how I ended up with you,” he said, his voice raspy as he dozed off. “But I’m fucking glad I did.”

“That makes two of us,” you said, kissing his chest where his heart beat. “Love you.”

“Love you, bebita.”

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