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shurisasthmaticgf · 2 months

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wait a damn minute: max verstappen x black fem! reader

summary: in the midst of the biggest worldwide IT outage you realize your name has come up at the worst time possible

author's note: i wrote this on friday when the entire thing happened, i thought i posted it but turns out it was camped out in my drafts still. this is my first max fic so i hope it's an enjoyable read! feedback and comments are always appreciated and highly encouraged, i like to know what you all think of my work!

warnings: google translated dutch

the hungarian grand prix was only days away and you couldn't wait to surprise your boyfriend with a visit. it killed you to miss his races but you'd recently been promoted to a new position in your company which required more days in office than remote. you'd managed to balance work and personal life pretty well but when you weren't missing due to your new job, you had something else happen last minute. finally, after weeks of working long hours on end in an office, you were in the clear to start remote working more frequently.

you managed to clock out of work right on time so the minute the clock hit 6:00 pm, you were logging out and grabbing your already packed bag. one of your coworkers passed by you in the elevator, he was the only one around your age in the entire department so immediately you both clicked. he lightly bumped you with his shoulder and commented, "three side profiles and a headshot or selfie." you furrowed your brows in confusion and he clarified, "photo requests for my husband of course." the two of you burst into laughter as you teased, "was the autographed photocard not enough for you, théo? i even decorated it and put it in a holder for your desk." the young man smiled fondly thinking of the small 3x4 inch card that sat on the corner of his main monitor. he brushed one of his locs from his face and dramatically sighed, "fine i won't be pushy...i only want the selfie." you shook your head and refused with a chuckle, "i'm not asking toto wolff for a selfie, théo." your coworker let out a fake sigh of disappointment and lightly pushed you in the other direction as you parted ways to your cars. you laughed and called out, "i'll see what i can do, no promises though!" his face lit up and he blew your air kisses before calling out a goodnight.

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

just thinking about seeing your boyfriend racing again brought butterflies to your stomach. although he was doing well this season a few problems had cost him a few wins here and there. fans had jokingly mentioned that you not being at races was the cause of the missed first place wins because coincidentally, every race you've ever attended, max has won exactly that. for weeks fans have asked about your whereabouts and you'd practically ghosted them simply because you were working so much. you were known as one of the more down to earth f1 WAGs who had no problem interacting with fans in person and over social media. so you suddenly not showing up for max and not interacting with people online made them wonder what was going on with you during the past few weeks. now that work had chilled out, you were happy to be back online again, and even happier to be able to make it out to hungary this weekend.

the moment you stepped into your apartment you made a beeline for your bedroom to change out of your professional clothes. you snatched a pair of scissors, a spray bottle, conditioner, a towel, a comb, and a crumpled up paper bag and cozied up on the couch with shrek queued on the tv. you sprayed your head with the warm water in the bottle and spread a glob of conditioner all over the roots of your hair. you pulled one of your braids forward and snipped the end before unraveling it and picking out whatever knots formed in the 6 weeks your hair had been tucked away. thankfully this time it didn’t take too long to get your braids out, only 3 hours compared to the usual 5 when you didn’t have your boyfriend’s help.

right as the last strands of synthetic hair slipped out of your own curls, your phone rang the familiar tune and a picture of your boyfriend flashed on your screen. a warm smile spread across your face as his camera turned on to show face. you braided you hair on each side to get it out of your face as you spoke, “hi my love how was your day?” he rolled over to his side and grumbled sleepily, “long, usual press day so you know how that goes.” you frowned slightly, “i wish i was there with you today.” max hummed and admitted, “i do as well. but your work is more important so i can deal with this.” you watched as his eyes lingered on your face and you giggled while moving out of the frame shyly, “stop looking at me like that.” although it was dimly lit in hotel room you could see the light pink tint to his cheeks as he smiled, “i can’t admire my lovely girlfriend?” he yawned mid sentence and you insisted, “as much as i love talking to you i know you’re tired and you need to go to sleep. so i’ll talk to you tomorrow, yeah?” he sleepily agreed and murmured, “welterusten mijn liefste.” you blew him a kiss and whispered softly, "goodnight baby." [goodnight, my love]

instead of heading straight to sleep you chose to wash your hair rather than waiting until the morning to do so. the flight you managed to snag last minute to hungary was set for tomorrow evening and you hadn't packed anything. not wanting to get onto a plane with a damp head of coils, you decided to just deal with it tonight. the entire process didn't take as long since you were speeding through just so you could sleep. by the time you were done it was around 2 AM and you were more than happy with the results. a dozen thick twists hung past your shoulders until you wrapped them up into a scarf and covered them with your bonnet to head to bed.

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

when you woke up in the morning you noticed your phone had over 50 missed calls, messages, and emails. your mind conjured up the worst possible thoughts as you called your boyfriend to see what was the matter. max answered on the first few rings and you anxiously stammered, "baby? maxie? what's going on are you okay? where are you?" on the other line max answered clearly confused on what you were talking about, "schat? i am fine, i'm heading to the track. nothing is wrong here, what are you talking about?" you started to calm down realizing that he was fine but you responded, "i thought- didn't you blow up my phone early this morning? i was worried something happened and-" your boyfriend interjected with a calm tone, "y/n, i promise you nothing is the matter-"

an incoming call from théo, your coworker cut max off and you spoke up, "i'm sorry i think it's work related because théo is calling me." max let out an annoyed sound and you laughed, "i don't get why you don't like him." max scoffed, "he is too touchy and handsy with you." there was a playful groan, "oh god here you go- max, we've been over this. théo is a 27 year old gay man from san francisco who's convinced he's princess diana's reincarnate. he's the least of your worries okay?" max conceded, "okay fine i guess...but i still have my eye on him." another call from théo interrupted your conversation and you added, "but he's blowing up my phone so i need to see what's wrong. i'll talk to you later okay?" max agreed and bid you goodbye before hanging up the phone.

meanwhile you answered théo's call and he was literally running through what looked like the parking garage of his high rise. he panted, "you- you nee-...oh god i'm out of shape- you need to get up right now.. i'll be there to pick you up in fifteen minutes so be ready downstairs." you looked around confused and your coworker/ friend explained, "there's some massive outage or something happening. i know we had off today but they're calling the entire office in to see if we can figure it out." you were already climbing out of bed and you pressed for more information, "what do you mean an outage?" théo shrugged and wiped sweat from his brow as he tried to make himself look less winded, "i dunno i was thinking a breach or something? whatever it is we'll find out but we gotta go right now babes." you hurriedly grabbed an outfit from your closet and started to get dressed and ready to go, keeping him on the line.

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

when you finally managed to get to his car, théo pointed to your phone and told you, "check twitter too, the fans are making jokes that you did something to the platform." despite having no idea what the hell he was talking about you opened twitter to see the flood of tweets under your name on the trending topics list. a pit formed in your stomach and you nearly fainted when you realized what he was talking about. you were completely new to this job and panic coursed through your veins on the thought of losing everything you worked hard for. the look of panic drew a laugh from your best friend and coworker as he jested, "they're funny aren't they?!" you shook your head and nearly shouted, "no it's not i'm gonna get fired!" théo waved off your concern, "girl the issue is definitely not from you and nobody thinks so. besides, dante from marketing and eleni from HR were sending the funny ones to our group chat...not that this isn't serious but just to make light of a shitty situation you know?" you shifted in your seat unsure how to feel and he promised, "i guarantee it's fine."

when you actually got to work with théo you were pulled into a meeting where you all were briefed about the situation. they clarified that they knew it was an issue with an update that was sent out early in the morning. after the meeting your boss told you that he knew you weren't supposed to be working today but you did need to stay and potentially over the weekend as well to help your team mitigate the issue as much as you all could. despite it being a global issue and not directly an issue from the monaco office, you knew that he meant he needed you there to help deploy the solution when it came through. he let you have a fifteen minute break to rearrange your travel plans and make the cancellations you needed before having you start work.

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

the work day ended later than usual, the later hours were spent at your home office while you were on meetings with other people on your team. luckily you were able to catch up with the results of max's first and second practice sessions through peeking at live updates while you worked. when you got the okay to clock out, you nearly fell asleep on your desk but waking back up when your boyfriend's ringtone jump scared you.

you kept your head on the desk as you opened the video call, "hey you." max's features softened when he noticed the look of exhaustion on your face, "it was that bad huh?" you gave a silent thumbs up and sighed, "i wish it didn't happen...i was so excited to come surprise you and finally be there to see you again. i'm sorry i can't make it work." max rushed to your defense, "er zijn nog genoeg andere races over in het seizoen, je kunt in plaats daarvan naar die races komen kijken." you let out an annoyed groan, "i know but i wanted to be there this time. now you'll have bad luck." max chuckled at the mention of the running joke of you being his lucky charm, "it's alright. don't worry your pretty little head about me. now come on let's go to sleep, i know you're tired." you shuffled your feet against your bedroom floor as you took your phone with you to get ready for the night. [there are plenty of other races left in the season, you can come and watch those races instead.]

as you lay in bed with your lights off max asked, "did you see they asked me about you today?" you hummed a soft, "nuh uh." he smiled at the memory and explained, "i was in an interview and they mentioned that your name was trending on twitter and asked if i saw it. i only saw that your name was trending but i didn't see what for so they told me fans made jokes that you crashed the mercedes, mclaren, and williams servers so that i could win this weekend." a sleepy smile crossed your lips and you asked, "what'd you say?" he turned over in his bed and answered, "i told them it wasn't you because you don't make mistakes in your work. you're too good at what you do. also that you aren't the one that sends out the updates so people don't need to use your name in a bad light." you grinned wider already knowing what he was going to say, "and how did that go over?" max let out an sigh and small chuckle, "the guys have been making fun of me all night for it." you let out the loudest laugh max has heard from you in weeks making him somewhat more fine with getting teased by his friends.

your laughter subsided and you told him, "tell me about something interesting." max thought for a moment then started rambling on about the geologic history of the netherlands, watching as your eyes started to droop with the passing minutes. falling asleep with your boyfriend still on the phone became a habit especially in the early days of you dating. but now you were spending more time with him that occurrences like this just started happening once more, leaving you missing his presence at night. as for now, this was the best you could get.

‧₊˚ ☁️⋅♡𓂃 ࣪ ִֶָ☾.

the end.

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romanoffsbish · 1 year

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Hear Me Out

Natasha Romanoff x F!R

Natasha develops a bit of a crush on Shield’s interpreter, and it just so happens that her best friend, Clint, has an in with the woman for her….

A/N: I actually minored in Deaf Studies in college, and that little end bit with Natasha is based on an actual mistake I made in my class lmao.

Cheese / Movie | Sorry / Please | Bad / Bitch

W/C: 3,788

"Why am I here again?" Clint grumbled as he sidled himself up to Natasha as she stood just off stage. "Because, Steve is off on a mission and there's no way I was doing this alone."

Clint rolled his eyes as he saw his best friends smirk grow while watching the stage, she was taunting him for being so easy to manipulate.

"Next time you call, I'm sending you straight to voicemail." Natasha shrugged, "I'll call Laura."

Clint was about to rebut her threat, but then he was caught off guard by seeing you on stage.

"Why's Y/N here?"

Natasha followed his gaze to your face, and her heart momentarily stopped. Y/N... Now she knew your name, and yet it wasn't enough.

——

It had been months since she first noticed you, she was instantly drawn to your beauty, but due to the nature of your connected jobs she felt it would be unprofessional to approach. With every passing event though she felt as her resolve was steadily crumbling, especially since you flashed her a gorgeous smile in passing at the last one. She damn near swooped you then.

"You know her?"

Clint smiled, "She's my Shield appointed interpreter, she bridges the gap between me and others in my situation while also teaching the family and I ASL." His smile dropped into a frown the more he thought about the situation. "Does she do every Avengers press release?"

"Mostly," Natasha replied with understanding in her tone. "Leave it to Fury to double dip."

"Now I feel bad that she spends every Monday to Wednesday with me." Natasha interrupted, "Oh wow, poor girl." Clint shoulder bumped her then went on, "Then she's at the farm every other weekend." Natasha frowned, in part because she didn't know if you could be trusted, but also, because she was jealous.

"Don't worry, I vetted her myself, she's clean."

Natasha's shoulders lost their tenseness, but she still kept a scowl as she realized she had always had an in with you. But since Clint was primarily retired she'd been left out of the loop with just how often she'd been on missions.

"She's single," he teased, Natasha could never hide her feelings from him. "That's cool," but she would be damned if she wouldn't try.

He sighed, ready to give her a little pep talk, but then the crowd roared with applause and he saw you were carefully descending the stage.

"Y/N!" Natasha glared at him, but fortunately you didn't catch it as you happily trotted over. You smiled, but only waved in greeting.

"I wanted to introduce you to my friend, Nat."

"Natasha," the redhead cooly corrected.

You titled your head, and furrowed your brows. Natasha watched in amusement when Clint knowingly huffed as he watched you. With your pointer finger you tapped your chest, then rose it to flick at the sky while shaking your head.

You understood him just fine...

Clint rolled his eyes, then did his very best to sign his introduction once more. Your eyes lit up at his improvements, and Natasha watched the older mans eyes also beaming with pride. She was certain she needed to know you now, because the old man was as a certified grump, but you still managed to make him smile.

"I'm Y/N," you finally spoke, and the redhead nearly fell to her knees at your voice. You had extended your hand out in greeting, but she was too enamored by you as a whole. So, you awkwardly cleared your throat while going to pull it away but she latched on just in time.

"Natasha," she finally offered her name, even though you knew it from not only Clint's intro, but also because you worked for her boss.

"I know," you giggled, and allowed her to keep holding onto your hand well beyond the shake. "You're kind of who I was defending on stage."

The redhead blushed and Clint was speechless.

"Right," she chuckled, and felt her entire body warm from embarrassment. Then, you gently squeezed her hand and she realized she had yet to let it go. Which only made her feel hotter.

The redhead dropped it, and if she wasn't so mortified by her horrible game she'd have seen the way you momentarily frowned at the loss.

"It's lovely to finally meet you Natasha, Clinton here has told me so much about you." You ratted the old man out for his gossiping. Nat narrowed her eyes at the man, curious on his intentions to have ever mentioned her to you.

"Don't worry, it's nothing too bad," you teased her and she met your eyes to see the honesty. "I'd stick around and get to know you myself, but unfortunately I have to meet with Fury, and sign yet another NDA since agents can't seem to keep their mouths shut around me."

"I'm sure Fury can wait," Natasha blurted, and that shocked all three of you. Clint smirked, Natasha's gaze fell to the ground, and you couldn't stop smiling thinking about how she wanted you to stay. The hand holding, and blush were not enough to convince you that the attraction was mutual, but now, you grew sure.

"He very well could," you theorized playfully, and the redhead looked to you with a smile. "But we all know that it's a bad idea to keep the director waiting. Then he'd be faced with the realization that his busy schedule is a facade."

The best friend duo laughed, both innately aware of the truth in your words. Fury spent his days doing a whole lot of nothing while the rest of them actually did the bulk of it all.

"I'm sure I'll see you around," you spoke again, the hopeful tone not being missed by them. Natasha nodded, about to reply, then her voice stalled in her throat as your finger grazed on over her warm cheek to collect an eyelash.

"Make a wish," you'd commanded playfully, and the redhead didn't question your childish behavior. She simply closed her eyes, wished for you, then blew the curl off your fingertip.

"What did you wish for?" Clint asked, and you watched the woman grow tense. "She can't say Clint, or else it won't come true." Natasha's eyes flitted back to you, and her body calmed. "Exactly, if you knew what's best for you, you would listen to the pretty woman Barton."

You gasped at her words, and nearly lost all of your composure, making Natasha slyly smirk.

"I'll see you this weekend," you'd signed to Clint, then left with a nervous smile and wave.

"Don't even," Natasha threatened through gritted teeth, and Clint laughed wildly. "Oh, Laura is going to be so ecstatic at the news."

Natasha left the man in the dust, literally, she drove off in her Corvette just as he made it and left him without a way back to the compound. Nevertheless, he continued to smile over the interaction as he walked back. He got into his car and left towards home, not even saying goodbye to the dramatic, fuming redhead.

He knew that he would be seeing her soon...

—

"Y/N!" You caught the little girl with ease as she ran down the familiar steps of her home. Lila began to ramble incessantly about her week, knowing the rules of silence affected her just as soon as the door was closed behind you.

You always took your time with entering just for her sake. The rules were important, it was the only real way any of them would adapt to the changes that came with Clint's steadily declining hearing. Immersive practices were truly the best when learning a new language.

"Ooh, and Nate got in so much trouble yesterday, because he flushed my dolls head down the toilet. Dad was so mad! Oh, and..."

Just as you went to open the creaky door you heard the slamming of a metal one behind you. Before you could even turn to inspect who it could be you got your answer as the little girl shimmied out of your arms and shrieked.

"Auntie Nat!"

Your entire body warmed when you turned to see her catch the girl just the same as you did. It was a bit soon to picture it, but you couldn't stop your mind from wandering off to thoughts of her maybe one day catching your own kids.

Neither of you had even confessed your crush's and here you were seeing wedding bells; always doomed to be the hopeless romantic it seems.

Little did you know Natasha felt the same way when she watched you with Lila from her car. For a brief moment she was jealous that the little girl looked so happy with you, that was her precious Lila-Bear after all, but then her heart skipped in realization that you'd already won all of the people that mattered over.

Except for Yelena, but she'd likely save that encounter for years down the line if she could. The last thing she needed was for the blonde to run you off before she ever got a real chance.

Turns out you already knew Wanda too, her other bestie, you'd been there for her after a bombing led her to a hearing scare. When Nat mentioned you last night the witch squealed, and begged her not to fuck this opportunity up.

Natasha had scoffed, acting nonchalantly about the possibility of a future, but her heart racing was a sign to the witch that she wanted it bad.

Once the redhead was stood before you it was like your mind was catching up to the moment. Natasha's hand fell to your shoulder, and offered you a bright smile. "We meet again."

"It's almost as if you planned this," you teased and she glared defensively. "It was my weekend off, it is only a coincidence that you're here."

"Oh," you chuckled awkwardly, completely thrown by the sudden change in demeanor. "Well, I'll make sure I stay out of your way."

Natasha internally slapped herself, she had no reason to be upset, but she was embarrassed by your ability to understand why she was here.

"You're bad at this Auntie Nat," Lila noted, then dropped down to follow you back inside.

"Y/N, wait." Natasha tried, but she was met instead with Nate glaring up at her with his tiny finger to his lips. He was shushing her.

Next to greet her was Laura, who pulled her in for a hug and whispered, "Welcome to the dome of silence, you can undo your blunder later—start by not being so defensive."

Natasha rubbed her eyes, and cursed under her breath in her mother tongue, only to be shushed once again by a smirking Clint.

Before she could retaliate (pummel the man) you'd flipped the power off, then on a few times to signal to the Barton's that it was time for congregating in silence. Natasha followed, and took a seat in the far off corner to observe the ways in which you taught the lot of them ASL.

It was amusing from the very start, she could see just why the wary kids loved you so much. The language was something you held respect for in your soul, but you also knew kids needed fun to focus. So, you almost found a way to make it a game of charades when the topics allowed you to. Clint and Laura worked out of a workbook for the most part, it was more like you were a tutor that sidelined as a babysitter.

Natasha watched your face, and how you were emoting so clearly. Every sign came with an expression, something you wouldn't see much of in spoken languages as inflection worked wonders to let others know your moods. In this instance she realized it was you setting a tone.

Today you were teaching them a handful of new words, and using clear feelings to do so.

You'd started with— "I feel," and signed cold, which you dramatized as you wrapped a scarf around your neck before lifting your bent arms in front of you, and shivered. Even Natasha had figured the word out, but that wasn't the answer, because as you saw the kids sign "I understand," you went on to sign "Why?"

Lila giddily raised her hand, body squirming in her seat as she quickly finger-spelled S-N-O-W.

You smiled wide, and signed good before you took your hands and imitated snow fall, your fingers fluttered as you swayed your hands down, then you pointed to your pointer finger, and the kids knew you wanted another word.

Cooper finger-spelled R-A-I-N, and you pursed your lips. Your hand took the shape of a Y, then moved from side to side, then your brow raised as your pointer fingers gently touched before separating fast. A quick way to say they were similar signs, but different in the same breath. Then you signed it and urged them for more.

Natasha already knew the alphabet, and with her spy training she missed nothing so she actually followed along rather easily with you. The widow quite enjoyed learning along with the kids, the words were relatively meaningless to her, but every word was necessary to life.

What really caught her attention was the little boy who'd shushed her earlier using his voice.

Nate was too young to engage in your playful immersive ways like the other two as he hadn't known how to spell yet. So you'd offer him photos after his siblings would spell out their guesses, and he would always get to shout the correct answer to you. To which you'd nod, wink at the older kids, then remind him to keep his lips zipped after as he hung off your back.

Nate snickered when your eyes bulged as you pulled the invisible zipper across your face. His imagination allowed him to believe that your lips were to some extent being zipped shut.

When you moved on to let the kids get ready for bed, you'd focused in on the parental unit.

Natasha gratefully caught your attention just before you settled into a conversation. Your face was rather solemn, and she cringed at the lack of your usual smile—she'd already grown obsessed with the simple gesture of yours.

She offered you a simple smile, and signed I'm sorry, or at least she thought she did, but really she said please and you took it as an apology. You'd merely winked and threw a thumbs up, your version of a rushed "it's okay," before you shifted to face an impatient (eager) Laura.

You were never actually offended by her earlier outburst, you actually found it quite funny.

Laura signed the lesson with you as if she had already known the material before you ever arrived. Part of you thinks she had the book and read ahead to show off, but the other part of you knew just by a glance she was brilliant.

Once you felt satisfied you nodded at her, and she traipsed off upstairs to help the kids finish up their bedtime routines. Then came your time with the struggling Archer, whom of which was the reason for these sorts of visits.

This is when Natasha's attention fell to her phone, you were no longer being silly, and truth be told she felt she needed to do some studying of her own to win your heart over.

Clint held up to your challenges, he signed with a sort of choppy elegance that matched him. Sometimes his signs would be angled wrong, and you would freeze the moment to remind him that sometimes a mistake like that could get him a black eye. For instance, bitch and bad were not too similar, but if you blinked it could be misconstrued, and somehow Clint found a way to confuse them often enough for you to need warn him. Not that he, an actual Avenger, had too much to worry much about.

Any Deaf person would be able to understand his flukes, but you feared he'd still get a stern scolding from the wrong person in a crowd.

Something you knew he'd take with a scowl.

After a half hour with the grumpy man you'd told him he was free to go. He literally jumped up, and lifted you into a grateful embrace as he spoke in a huff, "Fucking finally, I am tired."

"Language!" Laura and Natasha parroted Steve's infamous, inside joke, it spread around Shield so much that even you understood it.

The freshly cleaned up kids all ran into your body in some capacity, Lila smashed her chin into your stomach and pouted up at you. "Don't go?" You ruffled the little girls damp hair and smiled sadly at her. "I'll be back Lila, you guys won't even have a chance to miss me."

"I miss you all the time," Nate corrected you. Cooper jumped in next, pouting just the same, "You're like the coolest adult we know Y/N!"

Natasha scoffed, "I thought that was me!"

Cooper shrugged, and the other kids giggled. "You're our favorite Auntie, deal with it."

"Yeah Natasha, deal with it," you teased her with that pretty grin of yours just before you turned around to give each kid a final hug.

Natasha watched with an adoring smile, her eyes swirling with joy, and a twinge of hope. Clint caught her, and sent a teasing wink her way, but even that didn't stop her from gazing.

"Alright, it was lovely to see you again Y/N, please don't be a stranger," she winked at Natasha while hugging you tightly. "Get home safely please darling, obey the traffic laws."

Clint laughed, "Way to be a mom honey." He gulped as she glared, then patted you on the shoulder quickly before racing off after her to apologize, and help her settle the kids down.

The room was abruptly quiet again, and even with the palpable tension, it wasn't that bad. You moved around the room collecting your materials while Nat quietly observed you, she was building up her courage to approach you before you could leave the house completely.

Natasha politely tapped you on the arm, and you turned your head to peer over your shoulder to see her nervous smile. She swirled her hand about, you got the message and turned to face her fully, you nodded to confirm your full attention was hers so she lifted her hands to attempt to ask you out on a date.

Natasha shakily pointed at you, then back to herself to essentially say "You and me". She had no idea how to really do this, so she kept her Google search for signs at a minimum. The next thing she did was point her fingers out in the distance, something you understood easily.

The tricky part came when she put her hands together, the redhead tried her hardest to ask you to go to the movies with her, but she missed the mark by a simple position of hands.

"Sure, brie or cheddar?" Natasha blinked in confusion, her hands fell in defeat, and she looked completely disheartened. "What?"

"You just asked me to go to cheese with you."

"Oh my god," she groaned, her reddening face covered by her hands in an instant, but you didn't let her steep in her shame. Much like the first meeting you had her hands in yours, and you squeezed them in hopes of comforting her. Judging by the way her eyes glimmered you knew she was grateful for the gesture.

“Of course I’ll go to the movies with you.”

“You understood but still did that?”

You chuckled, “It was too easy not to.” The redhead dropped your hand then softly nudged your shoulder, “You are really such a tease.”

“Just wait for the date,” you winked, and the woman felt her body warm at the implications.

"Let me know when, and I'll meet you there?" Natasha frowned as she shook her head with absolute urgency. "No, I want to pick you up if that's alright, we can get dinner together first."

"Then pick me up next Friday at seven Nat," you leaned in and placed a sweet kiss to her raised cheek and tried to hide your grin at the blooming warmth felt just beneath your lips. Then you got into your car, and she hung into the window instantly to keep you a little longer.

"I'll need your number krasivaya," her tone was even raspier when she spoke in her mother tongue and she could see by the widening of your eyes that she had an upper-hand here. "It'll be hard to get in touch without it detka."

With a steady as can be hand you slid your phone into hers, allowing her to send herself a text message. As you took your phone back you saw she'd sent herself a selfie, you narrowed your eyes, and she shrugged. "I need a contact photo, and didn't really want to wait."

"So you invaded my privacy instead?" You teased the woman, no bite at all behind your words, so she once again shrugged. "You're very beautiful Y/N, you can't blame me right? It's honestly a shame I hadn't met you earlier."

"You know, you had ample opportunity," you giggled, and softly pushed her out of the car. "But you needed your best friends help."

"Hey...."

"Goodnight Natasha, I expect a gorgeous selfie in return, you know, for your contact." You winked knowingly before revving your engine and taking your leave only seconds later.

"That woman is going to actually kill me." The redhead held her hand over her racing heart as you drove away, it wasn't until your car was the size of an ant that it had begun to settle down.

"Jeez Nat, you're whipped!" Natasha turned to Clint with a tilted head, a move of Wanda's, while wearing her signature sideways smirk. Her narrowed eyes alone spoke of danger, but then her fingers formed the shape of L's, and she linked them and pulled them like a trigger.

Her research expanded beyond your wooing to include the torment of her dearest old friend.

Clint knew better than to ignore her threats, and took off in an instant... Natasha's laughter echoed in the dark fields, and mocked the man.

"I can't wait to have someone to complain about those two with," Laura chuckled to herself as she settled onto the porch swing with a glass of wine at the ready to help her unwind.

"Godspeed to Y/N though, that poor girl hasn’t a single clue what she is in for."

——

#natasha romanoff #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff oneshot #natasha romanoff fic #natasha romanoff fanfiction #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff x y/n #natasha romanoff x fem reader #natasha romanoff x female reader #natasha x reader #natasha x y/n #natasha x you #natasha x fem!reader #in the queue

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lowlights · 8 months

Text

Hi. I'm back, and I wrote this in about an hour so be nice. This is 100% inspired by @ezrasbirdie's Twinkle and the very lovely dream it gave me. So this is Birdee's fault.

Perfect Fit

Frankie Morales x plus size f!reader // 1.3k

Warnings: Reader is a curvy lady with big titties and a belly, f receiving oral, mutual masturbation, cum eating, lots of praise, language, a smidge of insecurity but it doesn't last long, reader borrows Frankie's shirt, a very feral Frankie who has got it BAD for reader. Use of good girl and bebita. I also maintain that Frankie is a babbler during sex. Oh also Frankie is in sweatpants, which is a gift to us all.

The flickering lights of the TV lit up your face, an old rom-com from the '90s that you had seen a million times playing on the screen. You laughed at every joke, even though you could recite every line if asked. Frankie heard you mutter them under your breath sometimes, which he would have found annoying if it had been anyone else. Never with you though.

He wasn’t paying a damn bit of attention to the movie, though.

Not for the past twenty minutes at least. Not when you were wearing those leggings and his threadbare grey t-shirt which you had borrowed for the night. Frankie could barely drag his eyes away from how his shirt pulled tight on your gorgeous tits or how the hem had rolled up just enough to show your soft tummy.

He felt like a pervert ogling you like a fucking teenager who could barely control himself, even though you had been dating for more than six months. He was allowed to ogle, but you had just had a week from hell at work and had been looking forward to a relaxing night at Frankie’s place. He could keep his hands off of you for a couple of hours so you could watch your favorite movie in peace.

You shifted slightly on his brown leather sectional and leaned into him, tucking your legs up and under you. Frankie stiffened, and you noticed. Normally he would put his hand on your knee or his arm around your shoulder. Instead, his hands flexed as he straightened out invisible wrinkles on his sweatpants.

“You alright, babe?” You pushed a stray curl behind Frankie’s ear. You made a mental note to give him a haircut this weekend. You’d been putting it off; you liked his hair on the longer side.

“Fine, fine. Just, uh- gonna go get a glass of water.” He stood up so quickly that you practically fell over.

“I…okay?” you mumbled as he made a beeline for the kitchen. He was gone long enough for the movie to culminate with the big romantic kiss and the happily ever after, making his way back to the couch as you clicked off the credits. He settled back next to you but a little further away than before and stared straight ahead.

Doubt gnawed at you. “Are you upset with me, Frankie? Is it because I made you watch this dumb movie again?” you asked softly, fiddling with one of your rings. The relationship was still new enough that you didn’t know how to read all of his emotions just yet.

His head whipped around. “What? No! Not at all, baby. I’m just- tired. You’re tired too, yeah? Should we go to bed?” His eyes darted down to your shirt, which made you realize how far it had ridden up.

You pulled down on it out of habit, and Frankie frowned. “Are you sure?” you asked.

Frankie shook his head. “C’mere,” he instructed as he helped you over to straddle his hips. You draped your arms around his broad shoulders, gasping slightly as he rolled his erection against you. “You’ve been driving me fucking crazy, baby. Do you know that? Feel what you do to me?”

“But I haven’t been doing anything?” You were genuinely confused.

Frankie nuzzled his nose against your chest, breathing heavily. “You look so good in my shirt. Damn, it fits you just fucking right.”

You cupped his face and pulled him up for a kiss, his tongue immediately begging for entrance. Frankie kissed you like it was his last chance, like you were the last gasp of air he would ever take. “This shirt barely fits,” you admitted when you both broke to catch your breath.

“It’s perfect,” he said adamantly. “Don’t ever wear anything else.”

You giggled and kissed him again before he lifted you off and leaned you back so you could stretch out on the chaise portion of the couch. He had fucked you more than once here in the months since he had bought it. A christening, he had called it, the night it had been delivered.

Without a word, Frankie helped you shimmy out of your leggings and underwear, stopping to stare at you as he tossed them over his shoulder. You smiled, and felt powerful. No man ever looked at you the way Frankie had looked at you since the first night you met. He was enraptured, enthralled. And he looked like he wanted to feast on you. You bent one knee up and let it fall against the couch. His cock noticeably jumped, pressing against his sweats.

“Oh fuck. Look at my girl, she looks so pretty.” Frankie settled on his belly and pulled your leg up over his shoulder. He left a trail of kisses up your inner thigh before softly kissing your cunt. He buried his nose against your curls and inhaled deeply. “Smell so fucking good for me.”

Frankie wasted no time and licked a slow and tortuous stripe up your slit before flicking his tongue against your clit. He built a steady pace, pushing you to the edge and easing back over and over again.

“Christ, Frankie, oh my- Frankie, Frankie, Frankie,” you babbled as you threaded your fingers through his hair, pulling him against your cunt as it clenched around nothing. He licked up everything you gave him before standing up and ripping off his clothes, his cock bobbing as he stepped out of his pants. His chin was wet with your orgasm, and his pupils looked blown out.

“Bebita, I need you to touch yourself. Rub that gorgeous clit, please? Please, baby,” he begged, stroking and squeezing himself as you gently rubbed circles on your sensitive clit. “Such a good girl, doing just what I ask.”

His praise made something low in your stomach clench and you arched your hips up, eyes fluttering closed.

“No, bebita, look at me, please. Lemme see those eyes. Yes, yes. Can you put a finger inside?” he practically begged, hand quickening over his leaking cock.

“Yes, Frankie,” you shuddered as you exhaled, slipping one finger easily into your relaxed cunt.

“Another, baby, please?” He moaned, never taking his eyes off you, as you complied and added in a second finger. He watched you move them in and out, snaking your other hand down to rub on your clit. “I’m so close, where- where can I? Quick, tell me.”

You pulled your fingers out and spread your legs wide. “Here, Frankie, here.” The words had barely left your mouth before he was standing over you, one knee resting on the couch as he decorated your pussy with ropes of cum. You gripped his thigh and watched as he worked himself through his orgasm. He was always so pretty when he came, mouth open and dark brown eyelashes grazing against his cheeks.

Frankie bent over to where you leaned against the cushion so he could kiss you, whispering praise between each breath and lick of his tongue. “Gonna get you cleaned up,” he said finally.

You expected him to go get a washcloth from the bathroom - he always made sure it was nice and warm - but instead, he settled back between your thighs. “Frankie?” you squeaked as he started licking your inner thigh.

“I said I need to clean you up, baby. Now take off that shirt and let me see those pretty tits?” He looked up at you with pleading eyes. You would do anything he asked, and in this moment he knew it. You tossed your shirt over your head and Frankie rolled your nipple between his thumb and finger as he dove back down between your thighs.

“Good girl, always so good for me,” he hummed as he licked himself off of you. “Gonna make you come again on my tongue, then I’m gonna make you come on my cock. Gonna have you all night, bebita.”

You threw your head back as he sucked gently on your clit. “All this because I wore your shirt?” you chuckled.

Frankie was too busy to respond. But he made good on his promises that night.

And always left the shirt out for you to wear whenever you wanted.

#frankie morales #frankie morales x f!reader #f!reader #plus size!reader #triple frontier #I missed frankie

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qveerthe0ry · 3 months

Text

Naked in Manhattan

Summary: Marcus has never slept with a man, Dieter's willing to remedy that - written for @romanarose Pride Event Week 3: Sex/kissing Word Count: 7,730 Pairing: (college aged) Marcus Pike x Dieter Bravo Rating: 18+ mdni Warnings: coming out, discussions of sexuality, brief mentions of homophobia, oral sex(m), (lots of) hickeys, frottage, cum eating, armpit stuff Betas: OBVIOUSLY @for-a-longlongtime and @perotovar the loves of my life 💖A/N: I highly suggest listening to Naked in Manhattan by Chappell Roan before/while reading this. Totally got the vibes of this entire fic by listening to it on a walk one day

Dieter’s learned a lot in his five and a half years of college. Not really much about statistics or geology, but about people. He’s been around long enough to know that the sad little guy on his front porch steps, avoiding the party, and chain smoking cigarettes is having a rough go of it.

“Hey buddy,” Dieter says, quietly, as not to startle the slumped figure.

Marcus looks up at him through misty eyes and a cloud of stale Winston smoke.

“Hey.”

He’s not crying, but he’s definitely crying for help.

“You okay?”

Dieter takes a seat on the step below him.

“Yeah, fine. Just needed air.”

Marcus gestures with the cigarette in his hand, then huffs out a laugh at the irony.

“You’ve been getting drunk a lot lately.”

Maybe Dieter shouldn’t pry. It’s not unusual for his rented house to be filled with students coming and going at all hours of the day, between classes on weekdays or all day on the weekends. The cheap beer just shows up, as does the weed, and he doesn’t usually question it.

But he’s closer to Marcus. So he notices more. He usually only sees him here on weekends. During the week he’s commonly found in the library or the student union, books sprawled out in front of him. He’s driven, pre-law, and has a better head on his shoulders than most people he hangs with.

But Marcus has been at his place every night this week, either stumbling home in the wee hours of the morning or sleeping late on his couch or floor. It concerns Dieter in a way that surprises him.

Usually it’s none of his business.

“I haven’t had a sip,” Marcus tells him.

And his voice doesn’t have that sharp, defensive tone Dieter was expecting. It’s more defeated than anything.

“Yeah but what about last night?”

Marcus shrugs.

“And the night before? And every other night this week?”

“Just having fun,” Marcus mumbles through another drag of his cigarette.

Dieterlooks around at his empty porch.

“Are you?”

Then Marcus laughs. It bubbles up out of him in an almost terrifying way, and damn near immediately turns into sobs hidden behind his hands.

“Fuck, dude, are you tripping?”

Marcus shakes his head. Dieter didn’t think so. He’s strictly an alcohol guy, won’t even touch weed. Something about the FBI and polygraph tests. Dieter finds it charming if not a bit manic.

He keeps crying though, so hard he has to flick his cigarette out onto the dimly lit street so he can rub at his eyes.

Dieter’s not sure what to do. Normally he’d offer someone drugs, but that won’t work.

His hand hovers over Marcus’ shaking back for a few moments before he rests a heavy palm between his shoulder blades.

He can feel the way Marcus’ breath shudders out of him, and tells him to start taking slow breaths. When it works, Dieter’s kind of amazed at how great he is at damage control.

“That’s it man, just breathe.”

Marcus nods, finally removes his hands from his face. He’s always been pretty in a very preppy way, with his perfect hair and teeth and his little dimples. He looks even prettier now, as much as Dieter kicks himself for that thought. His face is red and wet and his brown eyes are wider than they’ve ever been before.

A few deep breaths in through his nose and out his mouth later, Marcus is sufficiently calm enough to speak.

“I’m sorry.”

Dieter waves him off.

“Don’t be. Looks like it felt good, I might have a cry later too.”

Marcus lets out a wet chuckle and shuts his eyes as one last salty little droplet brushes past his long eyelashes.

“Everything okay at home? You’re not failing a class, are you?”

“No, no, nothing like that. It’s stupid.”

“Girl problems?”

Marcus laughs again, and Dieter startles a little, afraid he’s going to start back up sobbing at any moment.

He doesn’t though. He’s quiet and avoiding Dieter’s gaze as he frantically gets another cigarette from his pack and lights it up.

Dieter thinks he’s hit the nail on the head until Marcus takes a long drag of his cigarette and exhales.

“I’m fucking gay.”

Dieter opens his mouth in shock, or understanding, or maybe to try and say something, but Marcus continues.

“This whole time I’ve been gay. I don’t even— I’ve had so many girlfriends. I think they’re just nice. I’ve never— I fucking hated sleeping with them. I thought it was because it was awkward, and we’re all inexperienced? It sucked, Dieter. And I thought all guys were curious about other guys, you know? They all talk about their dicks with each other, since middle school. I just thought— and then there’s this guy… in my intro to psych class. And he’s so nice and handsome and I just always want to hang out with him. And I didn’t know why. But I want to kiss him. And I never felt that way about any of my girlfriends. And now I realize I’ve just— I’ve just been gay this whole time.”

He’s out of breath when he quits talking, but he sucks down more of his cigarette anyway. Dieter isn’t quite sure what to say to him. Usually when someone comes out to him, it’s in a less… frantic manner, more proud than anything. But this poor freshman has been on a gay crisis bender all week and is more than a little traumatized by all of it, and it’s just different with Marcus.

“That’s um… Sounds like you’ve been going through a rough time with it.”

Marcus sniffles and nods.

“Been through all five or whatever stages of grief already. It’s been a long week.”

“Are you… Upset? That you’re gay?”

Marcus’ head lolls back to thump against the porch railing.

“No… I’m more upset that I didn't figure it out until now.”

“You’re still plenty young, Marcus. You’re what— nineteen?”

“Eighteen. Skipped a grade.”

Jesus. Dieter feels even worse now about thinking he’s pretty when he cries.

“See? You’re a spring chicken, dude. You figured it out plenty quick.”

“When did you know?”

Dieter chews on his lip, considers lying just for Marcus’ sake, but decides against it.

“I pretty much always knew, honestly. But I mean— I was weird anyway, you know? Never really fit in or felt I had to play a certain part or be a certain way. It just made sense. Also, my dad always said I was as queer as a three dollar bill so… that helped.”

Dieter steals the cigarette between Marcus’ fingers to take a drag himself.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“Nothing to be sorry for, man,” Dieter tells him.

Marcus stares at where Dieter’s lips wrap around his cigarette for a bit too long, and Dieter hands it back, if only to try and stop whatever it is that’s bound to happen next.

But Marcus takes another drag himself, and his tongue peeks out to wet his bottom lip, and Dieter has never been called strong-willed.

“What’s it like?”

“What?”

“To be with a guy? What’s it like?”

Dieter shrugs.

“Depends on the guy.”

Marcus sighs.

“Are you uh— how do you like… it?”

“Are you asking if I’m a top or a bottom?”

Marcus’s face flushes a cute color in the yellow of the porch lights.

“Both,” Dieter shrugs, “but I haven’t really done that with a lot of guys. Kind of a hassle, you know?”

Marcus nods, but then his brow quirks up in question.

“What do you mean? What do you— what do you do, then?”

Dieter chuckles.

“All kinds of things, babe.”

He watches Marcus’ breath catch, the little stutter of his chest.

“Would you show me?”

Dieter rolls his eyes to distract them both from the fact that he really, really wants to.

“C’mon, man. You don’t wanna fool around with me. I’m a loser. Go find a pretty finance boy to shack up with.”

Maybe he’s less weak-willed than he thought.

Marcus’ shoulders slump again, and christ, though, is he supposed to just let him leave like a kicked puppy?

“There’s no intro to psych guy.”

It’s quiet, mumbled around his cigarette, and his eyes won’t leave his feet.

“What?”

“It’s you, okay? You’re my— gay awakening, or whatever. Why do you think I’ve been here all week?”

Dieter’s heart is hammering against his chest at that admission. This was not how he figured his Friday night would go.

“Free beer?”

His joke doesn’t land. Marcus rolls his eyes.

“It’s not like… I’m not like in love with you or anything. I just… always wanna see you. And you’re— well, you know. You’re hot. And you’re really nice to everyone. And I get this… I feel so weird when I’m around you, like, nauseous. Fuck, I’m sorry.”

Marcus flicks yet another cigarette to the curb and makes to get up, but before Dieter can think better of it, he grips him on the shoulder to keep him seated.

“That’s… actually really sweet, Marcus.”

He scoffs, hides his face in his hands, and it’s so cute Dieter can’t help but smile.

“Really— Usually people just want to fuck me, or use me for drugs.”

Marcus groans a little, mortified, and his hands run back to mess up his pristinely styled hair.

“Buddy, I’m serious. You’re a little charmer.”

Marcus looks up from his lap at that, scratching that neatly buzzed hair on the back of his neck, and his eyes are a little less embarrassed and a little more twinkly.

“You’re just saying that.”

Dieter shakes his head grinning.

“No, it’s cute. Being genuine is never a bad thing.”

And the thing is, Dieter’s not lying. It’s possibly the sweetest thing anyone’s ever said to him. But he’s toeing a very very fine line here, with himself. Because Marcus is so pretty, and so smart, and he’s soft and kind and he’s real but he’s young.

And Dieter’s just a Super Super Senior, a total burnout, on his way to holding the world record for The Longest College Career. He’s 23 and he’s still undecided and he probably won’t even get a college degree after all is said and done.

But Marcus is looking at him with those big brown eyes, watching, calculating.

“I just— I feel like you wouldn’t judge me. If I did the wrong thing. You know?”

“I wouldn’t. Anyone who would isn’t worth your time.”

Marcus huffs. Maybe Dieter can still save this.

“Would you… tell me? What you’d do? What I should do?”

And just like that, Dieter is hopping right over that line with both feet.

“Kiss me.”

Marcus’ eyes grow even bigger.

“Like, right now? Here?”

“If you want to. That’s what I’d want you to do, to kiss me right here, like you couldn’t help yourself.”

And Dieter will be damned if he doesn’t do just that, surging forward to grab the sides of his face and press their lips together.

His lips are so soft, and his face is smooth, and he’s eager, a bit too much, but it only adds to that coincidental charm. Dieter’s left to catch up, as Marcus swipes his tongue along the seam of his mouth and groans.

Dieter pulls away. Marcus’ mouth gapes open, and his shoulders heave with his fast breaths.

“You’re so… scruffy.”

Dieter chuckles, wipes Marcus’ spit from his lips and straightens out his mustache.

“Not good?”

“No, god no, it’s really good.”

And then Marcus smashes their lips together again as a pathetic little sound escapes his throat. Dieter opens his mouth this time, lets Marcus slide his tongue around, a little violent, and this is all a bit too much for some front porch steps, isn’t it?

“Hey,” Dieter says softly, pulling away.

Marcus’ brows draw up in confusion.

“Sorry. I’m not a good kisser, am I?”

Dieter sighs, grabs one of Marcus’ hands on his face to link their fingers together.

“It’s not that,” he says.

He turns his face to kiss the center of Marcus’ palm and smiles when his breath hitches.

“You really wanna do this with me?”

Marcus is nodding before Dieter even finishes speaking.

“Only if you really want it, too.”

Dieter squeezes his hand.

“I do, really.”

Marcus smiles the sweetest little smile, and they both stand up, and Dieter doesn’t let his hand go.

There’s music on in the house, and it smells like weed, and a few people are playing Nintendo in the living room. They don’t pay any mind as Dieter pulls Marcus up to the second floor, down the hall, and into his dimly lit bedroom.

At least he’s kept it semi-tidy, he thinks, as Marcus looks around while he shuts and locks the door. His bed isn’t made. He’s sure Marcus makes his bed every morning before class. He hopes he doesn’t mind.

He seems like he’s too nervous to mind, a jittery little thing standing next to his bed. He’s fiddling with the hem of his shirt, staring holes into the stained carpet, when Dieter moves to stand in front of him.

“Are you nervous?”

“No. Maybe. I don’t know.”

Dieter grabs both of his hands, and Marcus finally meets his gaze.

“It’s okay to be nervous. As long as it’s good nervous.”

He smiles and nods, but the worry in his brow is still there.

“We won’t do anything you don’t wanna do, okay?”

That seems to soothe him more.

“Can we kiss again?”

Dieter chuckles.

“Of course we can.”

Marcus tips over into him, landing at the side of his mouth but quickly correcting course. He licks, but Dieter keeps his mouth shut, goading him to calm down. And he does, slotting his lips around Dieter's bottom one, and everything else slips into place with a soft, satisfied noise from his own chest.

He lets go of Marcus’ sweaty hands to grab his hips instead, lithe and a little bony. He twitches at the touch, sighs, and presses his lips harder into Dieter’s. His hands search around frantically, jostling them both, until he finds the hem of Dieter’s sweatshirt and gets his hands underneath.

“Slow,” Dieter mumbles.

“Hm?”

“Not a race, Marcus. Take your time. Enjoy it.”

Marcus nods, but gapes at him, like he’s not quite sure what to do next.

“You wanna get comfy? Take your shoes off, sit down?”

Marcus nods again, but with a little direction, takes his shoes off and sits on the bed, criss-cross applesauce like the cutest fucking thing Dieter’s ever seen.

“I want this to be— I want you to have a good time, feel good. So tell me if you don’t feel good… or if there’s anything you wanna try. Communication is like, super sexy, right?”

Dieter sheds his shoes and his hoodie as he speaks, thinks he catches Marcus’ eyes staring at the spot between his signature pajama pants and his shirt where it rides up.

“Yeah… like, dirty talk?”

Dieter huffs out a laugh as he sits facing Marcus, crossing his legs, mirroring him to make him as comfortable as possible.

“Could be dirty talk, yeah. But just normal talk, too. It can be hot to talk about things like… how do you like to be touched? Where?”

Marcus clears his throat and scratches the back of his head with a puzzled look on his face.

“My— my dick?”

Dieter wants to laugh, but he can’t blame the guy. It sounds like the only experience he’s had so far is rushed fucks with high school sweethearts.

“Okay, yeah, that’s a good start. So, for me, I like being kissed. Everywhere. I like feeling lips on my jaw and my neck and especially my nipples. You can bite, too.”

Marcus’ eyebrows raise, his plush lips forming a circular shape that Dieter tries and fails not to focus on.

“Oh, yeah, okay. I— I like that too. I like when it’s… sloppy.”

Dieter hums, smiles, and nods.

“Anything else you like?”

He watches Marcus bite his bottom lip and trace shapes on the bedsheets between them.

“I don’t really know.”

“That’s okay. Maybe we can figure it out together, yeah?”

His long eyelashes flutter as he blinks real slow, and he smiles.

“Yeah. Thank you.”

Dieter does chuckle then.

“You don’t need to thank me. I’m gonna have a lot of fun with you.”

Christ, Dieter thinks, if his face gets any more red he might burst into flames.

He kisses him, to save him from a fiery death. It’s a little awkward, with both of their legs crossed in front of them, but it’s easier to take their time like this.

Marcus keeps it slow, so Dieter can finally lead. He licks into his mouth to feel his hard palate, and the way he whimpers and shivers in response is so delicious that Dieter can’t help but to do it again and again.

He feels long fingers grip his thighs, soft at first, but squeezing harder when Marcus returns the favor and scrapes his tastebuds along Dieter’s sharp canines.

There’s twin sighs when Marcus pulls away, only a little, eyes still shut.

“You’re really fucking good at this,” he mumbles.

Dieter hums and pecks his lips again, soft and wet.

“Could kiss you all night.”

It’s true, even though there’s also a million other things he wants to do with Marcus. He tries to push those wants down by kissing him again, getting that plump bottom lip between his teeth and nibbling on it. The noise Marcus makes has his cock filling steadily with blood, and he knows it’s very obvious in his pajama pants, and he hopes Marcus doesn’t freak out.

Like he’s reading Dieter’s mind, Marcus’ hands slide so fucking slowly up his thighs. The movements are jerky, and he hesitates when just the tip of his finger brushes his cock. His inhale is audible, but his curious touch proceeds, just the lightest ghosting across his shaft.

But then he’s pulling away, and Dieter feels on edge, bracing himself for the worst.

“Can I touch it?”

Dieter exhales his relief.

“You can… Are you open to suggestions, though?”

Marcus nods, his slick mouth hanging open.

“You could get on top of me, let me feel how much you like this, too. Drag it out, make me really want it.”

He smirks as Marcus curses, closing his eyes and pressing his palm to the front of his jeans. But he nods, and uncrosses his legs, so Dieter does the same.

And then, he’s got a lapful of Marcus, and he’s staring up into his glassy, beautiful eyes.

“Like this?”

His hips shift, and his pert little ass grinds against Dieter’s cock while his own presses against his belly.

“Just like that. Is this still okay?”

Marcus doesn’t answer him, just devours his lips again as he rocks his hips and supplies them both with heady friction. His little whimpers are muffled, and his teeth are sinking into Dieter’s lip a little too hard, but in a way that makes his cock throb and pulse against the tight ass against it.

Dieter’s hands find those lithe hips again, this time under his shirt. His skin is scalding to the touch and so fucking smooth. He digs his thumbs into his hip bones, drags little circles into them that make his hips jolt and stutter.

Fuck. He likes this a lot. Maybe too much. He pulls himself away to reel it in a bit, maybe to check and make sure this is still alright—

“I’m so fucking hard,” Marcus breathes, “I’ve never felt like this.”

And as he speaks, he’s ripping his t-shirt over his head and flinging it elsewhere.

He’s gorgeous. A little scrawny but smooth, everywhere, just miles of tan skin that’s paler here where it gets no sun. Dieter wants to bite, and kiss, and suckle on every fucking inch of it.

For now, Dieter uses all of his brain power to mumble a distracted ‘me too,’ as his hands moved upward to splay across all that hairless skin.

Marcus’ stomach tenses and relaxes under his hands, and his chest heaves as Dieter cradles his ribs and brushes his thumbs over his nipples.

“Does this feel good?”

He circles them, flicks them a little bit, and wants to curl up and live in that little gasp Marcus makes.

“Yes.”

His head is leaning back between his shoulders, all raised and on-edge. That’s not what Dieter wants. He wants him relaxed, wants him all gooey and loose.

Slowly, gently, Dieter tips him over, a hand on the back of his head until it lands on the pillows. The look in his eyes gets a little squirrely, and his breath picks up, and his nails scrabble at Dieter’s bicep.

“Is this still okay?”

Marcus nods quickly, but he’s slower with the verbal response.

“I think so… just nervous.”

“Still good nervous?”

As if to prove it, he cants his hips up into Dieter and he’s rock hard against his thigh.

“Still good nervous.”

Dieter’s own prick throbs and twitches as he hums. He lowers himself even more over Marcus, finds his racing pulse point and plants a hot, wet kiss there.

“Can I kiss you here?” he whispers.

His chin brushes Dieter’s cheek when he nods, and Marcus relocates his hands to reach up the back of his shirt. His palms are sweaty and hot as Dieter trails a wet line of kisses down to his prominent collar bone.

His skin is so salty, and the heat from his body is making his cheap cologne smell even stronger, and Dieter feels high even though he hasn’t smoked in hours.

“How about here, Marcus?”

He looks up at the younger man as he hovers his mouth above one tiny, pebbled nipple. He watches as his adam’s apple bobs in his throat, and smiles and impish grin when Marcus nods again.

The groan he receives when he closes his mouth around it has him pressing his hips to the mattress for relief. One of Marcus’ hands finds Dieter’s hair and grips.

“Ah fuck.”

Just like that, the fingers loosen and leave his head and Dieter actually whines at the loss.

“Sorry!”

“No, no, that was a good fuck. Love getting my hair pulled.”

Dieter glances back up at Marcus and watches as his wheels turn.

“Oh… really?”

He chuckles as he places a sloppy kiss on his sternum, delighted at the way the muscles twitch under his lips.

“Mmmhmm.”

Marcus sighs as Dieter finds his other nipple.

“My ex-girlfriend hated it.”

Dieter nips at the hard bud in his mouth and smirks when Marcus’ hips jolt up.

“I like a little pain with my pleasure,” he explains.

“I— can you bite me again?”

Dieter curses and obliges immediately, sinking his teeth into the meat of his pec this time.

“God, I like that.”

He even earns another tug at his hair, and Dieter knows there’s gotta be a damp spot on the front of his pajamas.

“That’s so good, Marcus. Keep telling me what you like.”

Marcus squirms under him as he alternates a string of kisses and licks and bites down his torso. His nails scratch Dieter’s scalp in between tugging on his hair, and this is the most fun Dieter’s had in the bedroom in a long while.

Marcus has a tiny bit of hair below his belly button, and it’s so fucking cute and whispy when Dieter runs his tongue along the path. But before Dieter can get the fly of his jeans unfastened, Marcus holds a hand over his.

“Can I try on you now?”

Dieter’s gaze flickers up to his face, and he looks so sweet, pleading with his big puppy eyes.

“Yeah, yes, of course you can.”

Marcus smiles, and it’s sure, like he’s finally settled into this, and it makes Dieter’s apprehension fall away.

It also makes him that much more horny, hard as ever when he lies down with his head on the pillows. He reaches down to readjust and watches Marcus clock the movement with a heady look.

“This is good for you, too?”

His voice is breathy when he asks, when his hand slips under Dieter’s t-shirt.

“Marcus, I’m loving this. I feel like a sexy experiment. Poke and prod me, babe.”

And through all of this newness and anxiety and apprehension, Marcus laughs. It’s music to Dieter’s ears, watching his eyes light up as he chuckles.

“Take this off then,” he instructs through his laughter.

“Yes sir,” Dieter purrs, “bossing me around also does it for me. You’re a natural already.”

“Y-yeah? I don’t— I’ve never been like that.”

Dieter fumbles to back track at the way Marcus’ confidence falls away.

“It’s okay, that’s an advanced lesson. My bad. Just— Just do what you want with me. Explore. I’m all yours.”

He talks as he sheds his shirt, and when the damned thing finally pulls free, he feels a little scrutinized under Marcus’s wide eyes. And he kinda really likes it.

He settles back against the mattress, one arm above his head while the other reaches out to encourage Marcus to come closer. He does, only a little timid as his gaze rakes over every inch of his body.

He settles between Dieter’s spread legs, one hand dipping the mattress next to him while the other lands hesitantly on his flank. His warm, sweaty palm feels the skin there, draws upward toward his chest, but takes a completely unconventional detour to his armpit.

Dieter’s cock throbs. This is so fucking weird and so fucking hot.

Marcus’ jaw drops slack as his fingers card through all of his armpit hair, and it tickles a little bit, but mostly it just makes Dieter’s arousal grow heavy in his groin, burning.

Before Dieter can really assess what’s going on, or encourage him, or tell him how fucking hard he’s making him, Marcus leans down to capture his lips in his own.

Dieter groans and scrabbles to grip his waist, arching his hips for any relief and finding it against the front of Marcus’ jeans, a hard line wrapped in denim that twitches against his own. He moans, low and long, as he twirls the thick hair between his finger and thumb.

And then his hand is gone, and Dieter’s quite disappointed, but he can’t just say that, can he? He weighs the pros and cons of telling Marcus not to stop as the other man trails his lips down the patchy stubble on his jaw, and bites the sensitive skin on his neck.

Maybe he should tell him. That’s a good lesson, right? How to take feedback, good or bad. But ‘hey keep stroking my armpit hair’ is a bit startling, isn’t it?

He’s so distracted by the inner turmoil that he doesn’t realize the path Marcus’ has taken until hot breath ghosts that bit of fat between his tit and armpit and then he sniffs, and groans, and licks up all the hair while he presses his cock down into Dieter’s own and Jesus Fuck—

He quickly finds purchase in Marcus’ hair and curses, grinds his hips back up into him with what he hopes is encouraging words. But forgive him if his brain is a little bit completely scrambled.

Marcus bites just under his patch of armpit hair, burying his nose in it once more, and these primal sounds he makes are vibrating through Dieter’s chest. All he can do at this point is lie back and take it and succumb to the fact that this is definitely altering his brain chemistry for the rest of his life.

It all stops rather abruptly, though, and two hot hands grab Dieter’s hips hard, pushes them down into the mattress as Marcus arches away from him.

“I might— I might come.”

Dieter blinks his bleary eyes open to look at the panicked man, who’s squeezing his eyes shut and biting his lip.

“It’s okay if you do. You can have me all night.”

“Fuck— Shut up, Jesus Christ.”

Dieter huffs, scratches at his wet armpit, and patiently waits for Marcus to settle down. He could probably come that way too, to be honest, with that pretty boy’s tongue lapping at his underarm and their cocks grinding together.

Marcus’ eyelashes flutter open, and Dieter smiles at him softly, careful not to move or touch. He looks like a hair trigger, sweaty and panting already, with a really fucking hot damp patch soaking through the crotch of his jeans.

“Sorry. I think I’m good— wait, sorry, was that weird?”

Dieter allows himself to place one of his hands on Marcus’ own, where it’s still gripping tight to his hip bone.

“It was weird in the hottest way possible.”

Marcus shakes his head at himself and closes his eyes again.

“I’m dead serious. I didn’t know how sensitive I was there. You’re teaching me things. That’s super hot.”

Marcus sighs.

“It’s just… I like the hair. And your deodorant smells nice.”

He pries his eyes open, like he expects Dieter to be disgusted, but his confession only makes his cock jump very prominently in his pajamas.

“Doesn’t taste very good, though.”

And now Dieter is laughing, and tugging Marcus back down, mumbling ‘prove it’ and shoving his tongue into his offensively chemical-flavored mouth.

It’s okay though, he just licks and licks until the taste has dissipated and Marcus is letting go of the death grip on his sides. His mouth follows a much more predictable route, this time, and Dieter watches his every move as those pretty lips wrap around his nipples, one and then the other, until he’s biting and Dieter is whimpering and asking for more.

“You can leave marks. I like ‘em.”

Marcus curses against his sternum and obeys, so fucking obedient, suckling Dieter’s skin and rolling it between his teeth. Looking up at him, his eyes look so determined, all dark and heavy, especially when he pulls away to admire the bruise he’s left.

“More. Want to see you all over me in the morning.”

“Fuck, Dieter. How’d you get so good at— at talking like that?”

Dieter chuckles, then hisses when Marcus sucks the skin on his belly into the sharp edges of his teeth. He’s looking up with an expectant quirk of his brow.

“I just say what’s on my mind,” he answers.

Marcus hums, and Dieter places his hand on his jaw to feel it working, a third mark blooming bright red on his hip.

“What’s on your mind?” He asks.

A fourth mark, this one deeper than the rest, right above the waistband of his pants, as Marcus thinks.

“I want your cock in my mouth.”

Said cock jerks wildly, disrupting the tent in his pajamas, and Marcus has the audacity to smirk. Dieter lets his thumb trace that wet, swollen bottom lip and doesn’t miss the little whine that Marcus tries to hide.

“Will you teach me?”

It’s now that Dieter realizes he’s created an absolute monster, with Marcus looking up at him all wide-eyed, batting those long eyelashes. He knows what he’s doing, and it just makes it all so much worse. Or better. Both, really.

He clears his throat to try to gather his bearings before he speaks.

“Yeah, I’ll teach you. Pull it out for me.”

Dieter watches as his breath hitches, and he eyes the tent in Dieter’s pants with an array of emotions washing over his features. There’s hesitation for sure, as he toys with his waistband. But he’s licking his lips, and taking a big deep breath as he tugs them down Dieter’s thighs.

And then he’s staring at his cock, swaying in the breeze, and Dieter thinks this would be much less intense if penises weren’t so offensive and in your face.

“Pretty,” Marcus mumbles, and it makes him giggle.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, it’s— I like it.”

“Thank you. That’s very sweet.”

Marcus rolls his eyes but smiles.

“I can touch it?”

“Yeah, of course. Anything you want. Go at your own pace.”

Maybe it’s cliche, but as soon as Marcus’ hand wraps around his cock, Dieter is done for. Fuck, it feels so good, the way his movements are gentle and calculated, the way he’s being so attentive for his first time, exploratory. His free hand cradles Dieter’s sac, his thumb tracing the seam, and it’s alarming how close this is getting him. It’s so intimate, and genuine, and it’s so hot that he gets to be here for Marcus’ first time.

Marcus squeezes him tight and strokes, once, from base to tip. He thumbs at his frenulum, slippery with pre come, then lifts that to his lips. It’s like slow motion when he watches him poke his tongue out to taste, and he closes his eyes and hums.

“Better than the deodorant, for sure.”

And Dieter’s cock bobs as he laughs.

“That’s a relief.”

“I’ve never tasted my own before,” Marcus says.

“No?”

“Mm-mm. Seemed… gay.”

And he laughs at himself, but his face inches closer, and in an instant his tongue is flicking out to lap up more of it, straight from the source.

Dieter gasps at the contact, so sudden. His taste buds are rough against his slit, in a good way, and he has to cradle Marcus’ neck to reel himself in.

“That’s so good,” he whispers, “keep doing that.”

And he does, little kitten licks to the sensitive head of his cock, looking up at him from under those long eyelashes. Dieter groans and closes his eyes because if Marcus keeps looking at him like that, he will come before he can have any fun with him.

Then, in an instant, he’s completely enveloped by warmth and wetness, too fast, and he opens his eyes at the same time Marcus gags and coughs and pulls off of him.

“Jesus, Marcus, take it slow.”

He coughs more, with brow all furrowed and frustrated, and Dieter smooths his hair off of his forehead.

“Are you alright?”

Marcus clears his throat as he nods.

“Yeah, sorry, I can’t— I thought that would be easier.”

Dieter huffs, sits up a bit and leans on his elbow so he can see him better. His eyes are watery and not in a sexy way this time. He pets Marcus’ hair a bit, hoping to soothe him, but the redness doesn’t fade from his cheeks.

“You don’t have to take it all, that’s no fun, choking like that,” he says, “are you sure you’re okay? We can stop.”

“No! No— I don’t wanna stop. I’m just embarrassed.”

God, he’s so fucking sweet.

“Don’t be embarrassed. We’ve all been there. I threw up on the first dick I sucked.”

“Gross, dude.”

“I’m just saying, it could be way worse. Nothing to even be embarrassed about.”

Marcus sighs and hides his face in the crease of Dieter’s hip.

“Seriously, I’m still so hard I could shatter diamonds. You’re so fucking hot, it doesn’t matter if you choke a little.”

He feels Marcus’ teeth on the skin of his hip before he sees his jaw moving. He bites and sucks and it’s another beautiful piece of him he’ll get to take from this experience.

“That’s it. It’s all about the recovery. Fuck, Marcus, your mouth feels so good on me. Everywhere.”

Dieter lifts his hips up to encourage him to bite more, mark him up all over. He follows eagerly, until there’s little love bites scattered across the thin skin over his hip bone and his cock is weeping for attention.

Marcus looks up at him, finally, as he hovers just above his prick.

“Can I try again?”

Dieter hums and cards his fingers through his thick brown hair.

“Play until you win, babe.”

He’s much more careful, this time. He takes the head into his mouth and sucks, lets his tongue lather and swirl around it as his hand keeps his dick in place. He’s gorgeous, with his cheeks hollowed out and his eyes shut in concentration.

“Yeah, just like that, fucking perfect.”

Marcus whimpers around his cock, and drool is starting to leak from the corners of his mouth and drip down Dieter’s shaft.

“Move your hand a bit, jerk me off while you suck on it.”

He follows the direction so well, letting his hand draw up to meet his lips, then back down, over and over, and Dieter can feel his gut growing hot and tight. His tongue is working him relentlessly, and he’s never really had a partner use theirs so much, but the frantic swirling and flicking has his head spinning.

“You’re amazing,” Dieter breathes, “making me feel so good.”

At the encouragement, Marcus braves another inch of his cock. He starts to bob his head up and down, following his lips with his fist, and the breaths through his nose get heavier. Dieter babbles a bit, just encouraging words as Marcus works him dutifully, trying with all his might not to thrust up into his hot, sloppy mouth.

But then Marcus looks up at him with his pretty brown eyes and groans around the cock in his mouth and it’s too much.

“Fuck— fuck, Marcus, let me go.”

Marcus does, as quickly as he can, panting when his mouth is finally free.

“What’s wrong?”

Dieter huffs.

“Nothing, you’re perfect, gorgeous, beautiful. I just don’t wanna come yet.”

“Oh.”

The little cock drunk smile he gets is too cute, and Dieter tugs lightly on his hair to get him to crawl back up for a kiss. He tastes like pre-cum, and his nails bite into the heated skin of Marcus’ back for purchase.

“How are you feeling? Still gay?”

Marcus laughs against his lips.

“The gayest I’ve ever been.”

Dieter collapses back on the pillows to look up at him.

“Really though, are you still into this?”

Marcus nods, presses his hips into Dieter’s thigh to swipe away any last remaining doubt.

“Alright, next and final lesson. Get those tight little jeans off.”

He’s so quick to obey, and Dieter tries not to gawk at how much bigger that wet spot has grown just below his fly. He shakes himself out of it and gets his pajama pants completely off his legs.

Marcus is so fucking hot, jesus, Dieter feels like he’s pushing his luck having him here in his bed. So lean and long, and his cock is uncut and curves a bit to the left, and he’s still so hard.

“Get beside me, face me.”

And Marcus looks right at home like this, laid out in his bed, with his bicep bulging from propping his head up on his hand.

“What’s the lesson?”

Dieter smirks at the eagerness.

“I’m gonna jerk us off together.”

Marcus raises his brow.

“Like, at the same time?”

Dieter hums his affirmative, reaches a tentative hand out to cup Marcus’ pert little asscheek, and chuckles when he twitches.

“Don’t worry, we’ll save that for another time. If you want.”

“Shit, yeah, okay.”

And isn’t that gonna be fun? The thought makes Dieter’s cock throb and jerk and he shuffles to close the distance so their pricks line up together.

“Is this okay? Like this?”

He looks up from their cocks to watch Marcus’ jaw go slack.

“Oh god, ‘m not gonna last at all.”

Even as he says it, he’s wrapping his own hand around both of them and squeezing, groaning at the feeling and bucking his hips so they slide together.

“I don’t want you to last, I want you to feel good.”

Dieter lets his hand join the fun, covering what Marcus can’t, and his cock jumps in their combined hold when Marcus whines.

“I do, I— fuck, I really do.”

“Kiss me?”

He’s cut off by Marcus’ lips, all swollen and hot against his own. Marcus moans as soon as their tongues meet, and he starts shaking like a leaf. His hand squeezes harder around their pricks, works them faster, and Dieter can feel each and every twitch of his dripping cock.

He’s so frantic with it. His breathing whistles fast through his nose, panting into his mouth, and every other exhale is a desperate little noise. It only takes a few dozen strokes for Marcus to fall apart.

“Gonna come— I’m coming, Dieter—”

He gasps as it washes over him. Dieter feels his hot, sticky cum splash over his own hand and his cock and his stomach. Marcus hides his face in the crook of Dieter’s neck and bites as it courses through him. It sends a hot white spark down his spine, and what little filter he’d maintained throughout the night completely short-circuits.

“Shit, that’s it. So fucking good, coming all over me— Fuck, Marcus, you’re hot when you come. You feel so fucking good.”

Marcus whimpers through his aftershocks as Dieter fills his ears with whatever filth he can muster. When it’s too much, and Marcus has to slide his spent cock from their joined hands, he doesn’t let go of Dieter. He helps, with the slick aid of his cum, and Dieter topples over the edge with a growl and Marcus sucks another mark into his overheated skin.

It’s blinding, it’s his favorite orgasm he’s ever had for sure. Marcus gasps when the first streak of his spend shoots all over his smooth stomach.

“Fuck yes,” he sighs, exerted but intrigued as Dieter fucks their fists.

His cum mixes with the stains Marcus already left on his blanket, slowing to a trickle just as Marcus’ grasp loosens. Even when he’s empty, Dieter can still feel the orgasm buzzing through his body as he tries to regain his breath.

Marcus finally looks up from the scene of the crime and Dieter wants to take a picture of the fucked-out look on his face, his messy hair, his spit-slick lips and flushed face. But he can’t, so he kisses him instead, closing his eyes so maybe he can burn that image into his memory for eternity.

It’s lazy, so much slower and softer than the way Marcus kissed when he was all keyed up.

Shit.

Dieter’s in for it. He’s always had an addictive personality, and having Marcus in his bed has been stronger than any fucking drug he’s tried before.

He whimpers when Marcus pulls away, chasing his lips just for a moment before he reels himself back in.

He looks down at the mess he’s going to promptly ignore, thinks about how far away the bathroom closet is with all the towels. But then one slender finger is swiping through the cum puddle between them, and lifting to his face, and Dieter devours.

Marcus chuckles at the desperate noise Dieter makes as he swirls his tongue around to lick up every last drop.

“How do we taste together?”

Goddamn, Marcus is much more suave after an orgasm.

“Like we were made for each other.”

Christ, he needs to get himself together. His brain is just so fucking fuzzy and light.

Marcus doesn’t run for the hills, though. He giggles, and dips that same finger into their mess again. He brings it up to his own lips this time, sucking it inside his mouth and pulling it out clean.

There’s a slight grimace as he rolls it around in his mouth.

“Not as sweet as you were earlier.”

And Dieter laughs, brushes his two cleanest knuckles against the skin of Marcus’ hip.

“It’s an acquired taste.”

Marcus nods, and looks down between them, and some of that lightness in his features fizzles out.

“Hang on— here, use these.”

Dieter hands him his discarded pajama pants, and they use one leg each to tidy up their hands and stomachs and cocks. Then Dieter balls them up to swipe at his sticky blanket as best as he can. And it’s all so quiet, as their breathing has evened out, and fuck, what if Marcus has some crazy post-nut clarity after this… heavy situation?

He’s staring at the bedroom door when Dieter looks up to face him.

“Should I uh… go… now?”

Dieter sighs and finally gets his freshly wiped hand on Marcus’ skin, colder now where all the sweat has cooled.

“Personally, I would like it if you stayed. Cuddling after sex is… well, I like it a lot. Some people don’t… it’s okay if you don’t. Whatever you’re comfortable with. This was probably a lot for y—”

Marcus cuts off his rambling— thank god— by burrowing his face in Dieter’s chest and tangling their naked legs together. They both release two huge twin sighs, and Dieter’s instantly soothed by the weight against him, and the lithe fingers stroking his back.

Dieter can’t help it, he tucks his chin and plants a kiss to the crown of Marcus’ head. He drowns in the scent of sweat and cheap shampoo and feels so grounded for the first time in a very long time.

Marcus hums, and Dieter pulls him in tighter, swipes his palm over the curve of his tiny asscheek.

He clears his throat.

“I don’t have any plans tomorrow…”

Marcus lifts his head, and he looks so sleepy but so satisfied.

“So we can stay up all night? You can— could you show me more things?”

Dieter chuckles and kisses his lips to hide how relieved he feels.

“Was gonna see if you wanted to catch a movie or something. But I think I like your idea better.”

“Oh— a movie sounds good! I mean, it would be chill.”

Dieter huffs.

“Split the difference, we’ll watch a movie here while I eat your cute little ass?”

Dieter actually feels his limp cock twitch against his thigh, and tries to hold back a self-satisfied smirk.

“Yep. Yeah, let’s do that instead.”

Dieter kisses him, this time just because he can.

“Get some sleep first, okay? I’ll be right here.”

The look of comfort on Marcus’ face makes his chest burn and ache. His droopy eyelids close as he smiles, and his head drops to Dieter’s splayed out arm.

He just watches, for a little while. Lets himself count the deep, even breaths Marcus takes and feels them on the skin of his bicep.

His arm is gonna go numb in about two minutes tops, and he’ll cherish every pinprick until he drifts off.

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal smut #pedro pascal character fanfiction #pedro pascal characters #marcus pike #marcus pike fanfiction #dieter bravo #dieter bravo fanfiction #marcus pike x dieter bravo #OscarPedroPrideEvent2024

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bisexualiteaa · 4 months

Text

How The Boys Met You

Character list: Soap, Price, Gaz, König, and Ghost

AN: This one is a little different than the stuff I’ve been posting lately, sort of a throw back to some of my old content! I will be getting back to the regular stuff as well, just wanted to post some of the things that have been in the works for a while now! Hope y’all enjoy! 🥰

CW: slight OOC task force 141 + König, deviance from the games, fem bodied reader, possibly poor attempt at writing accents, flirting, talk of dating apps, being stood up, mentions of alc0h0l, mentions of w0unds, mostly fluff, slight suggestive themes, cursing, possible grammar and spelling errors

Taglist: @expirednukacola

John “Soap” MacTavish

- He was at his favorite pub, spending the weekend enjoying a few drinks with a couple of the guys.

- Three beers deep, going on about some stupid story that anyone could tell by the guy’s faces that he’d told a million times already, and every time told it as if they hadn’t all been there to witness it just to get to the butt of a joke.

- ✨Then you walked in✨

- He was speechless as you walked up to the bar. Your cute, form fitting dress on, heels that made your legs look absolutely stunning and your make up all done. You looked too damn good to be sitting in a place like this he thought.

- The only thing off about it all? You had a sad look on your face as you sat down, breathing a heavy sigh before the bartender made his way over to you so that you could order a drink.

- It made his heart hurt to see someone so pretty look so sad, not to mention the guys were totally teasing him and daring him to talk to you.

- The “make your move before I do” ™️

- “I’ll have an old fashioned please, extra cherries” you ordered, and he knew right then and there that you were different than the usual crowd this place pulled in.

- “Put it on my tab, I think I’ll have the same” Johnny spoke, making you turn to look at him, intrigued by his Scottish accent and the fact that he had just paid for you.

- You tried telling him he didn’t have to, but he kindly insisted, making you blush before you thanked him.

- “You look beautiful if ya don’t mind me sayin” he said, making you smile at his compliment, the first one you’d gotten all night. “Thank you! It was a new dress I bought for a date tonight but…I got stood up. So I came here instead to take a little of the pain away” you responded, and he understood where the pain in your eyes came from now.

- “Steamin’ Jesus…someone really stood you up? What ‘n idiot. They really missed out. Ya look stunnin’. Anyone would be lucky t’ go out with a gal like you” Johnny said, making you blush again as you smiled.

- Secretly it made your night.

- “How about I give it a try? We have some drinks, I tell you a little about myself, you tell me about your fine self, and we have a good time in the makin’? I’d happily make up for the screw up they made to get t’ know ya and see ya leave with a smile if you’re willin’. And if I’m lucky, hopefully I’ll get t’ leave with your number so we can have a second one” he said, and rather smoothly at that, making you giggle as you took a sip of your drink. “Alright lover boy, seeing as we have drinks, tell me about yourself” you replied with a grin and he lit up with joy at your humor and you accepting his offer.

- Was better than you could have ever expected, certainly better than the stuffy, upscale place you were at originally. You were glad you ended up meeting someone at the pub he soon figured out that you frequented just about as much as he did.

- Even better? You went home with a smile, he went home with your number in his phone, and both of you went home with a plan for a second date. 💖

Captain John Price

- You were a barista at his favorite cafe he’d been going to for years now.

- When he wasn’t gone on deployment, he would come every day at the same time around lunch time, right before the rush, and leave once it was done.

- He ordered the same thing every time. Hot tea no matter the temperature outside, two sugars and a splash of cream and he would sit in the same spot by the window, reading or working on his laptop.

- You learned he was never terribly big on sweets, assuming he got most of his sugar intake with his drink, but every once in a while you’d slip him a bakery item for free.

- He was convinced it was just you being nice and making sure he had food before returning to work because it was a bad habit he was doing his best to break, but anyone else who knew? Was thoroughly convinced it was your own method of flirting with him.

- Sometimes you would take your break and sit and talk with him, try and get to know him more than just his order, the name he would give you to write on the cup and his phone number for the rewards account.

- One day it had been a particularly difficult day before he’d come in, but upon walking in and breathing in the lovely smells, seeing your bright smile, and hearing you sweetly greet him, he already felt ten times better.

- He returned the sentiment as he walked up to the counter, not even opening his mouth before you had put his order in the POS already, wishing to save him the trouble with how stressed and tired he looked. “A delight as always, love” he said, making you smile again. “Rough morning?” You asked as you made it for him, seeing stress written all over his face made you feel for him. “Very” he responded through a sigh as he took out his wallet while talking to you and watching you make it. “Four twenty nine as usual?” He asked, making you smile as you sat it down in front of him. “It’s on the house today. Please, sit and rest, I’ll have it out to you asap!” you said sweetly. “And if it isn’t too classified, I go on break in ten. I’m happy to lend an ear if you wish to confide your burdens or just to talk” you added, making him smile as he took a seat, pulling a chair out for you for when you were clocked out on break.

- You spent a little over time on break talking, having lost track of the time but it wasn’t busy so you knew it was okay.

- As he was about to leave as you were clocking back in, but it was then that he saw you’d left your number on the back of his cup, making him smile before quickly adding you into his contacts.

- Hello love, this is John. I wanted to say it was lovely talking with you today, thank you for the tea and for making the rest of my day go by much better. ❤️ I’d like to take you somewhere that isn’t the cafe sometime if you’d allow me, what do you say? you read on your phone, making a bright smile stretch to your lips as you excitedly responded and planned a proper date with him.

Kyle “Gaz” Garrick

- Poor Kyle had been on just about every dating app he and the boys could to find to get him the perfect girl to settle down with.

- From Tinder, to Hinge, to failed dates set up by finding people in person, he wasn’t sure if his heart would be able to withstand anymore heartbreak.

- This was attempt number eight, with seven dates failed before this. Why was the dating world so difficult now? He did everything he could to be himself and present himself as someone suitable.

- He swore to himself that if this one didn’t work out, that he would give up on it entirely. After all they do say you don’t find the right one when you’re searching for them, they find you.

- Or at least that’s what the married ones say.

- So when his date was running twenty, almost thirty minutes late to their supposed date, he was hurt but sadly wasn’t shocked either.

- He gave a heavy sigh as he checked his watch, then his phone for any communication from her. No text messages, no calls, absolutely nothing to let him know that his date was on their way or even still on for it.

- You were sat at the bar enjoying a few drinks as you normally do on the weekends, when you saw him walk in and grab a table for two.

- He was a handsome young man in your eyes, nicely dressed in a nice dress shirt, slacks, and a nice jacket seeing as it was raining outside.

- You were slightly saddened to find that he was there waiting for a someone else, assuming he was on a date, but when you’d stolen a few glances his way through the night, you noticed he’d been sitting there for a while and the second person had yet to show up.

- Your heart hurt for him, knowing what it was like to be stood up, it was the reason you gave up on dating all together yourself.

- When more time had passed by and his date still hadn’t shown, you decided to take the faithful leap.

- You weren’t sure if it was the alcohol in your system, or just the way that you sympathized with what he was going through, but just as he was getting ready to stand up and walk out, you found yourself walking over to his table.

- “Hey there handsome, I couldn’t help but see you’ve been sitting here for a while. Mind if I join you?” You asked kindly, and he had to admit, it took him back a bit.

- You looked stunning, donned in a nice cocktail dress, your hair and makeup done nicely, he figured you came here often with the way the waiters knew you and your drink order well.

- “Sure, that sounds lovely actually” he replied, his British accent taking you by slight surprise but with a kind smile in return. Maybe this failed date could take a turn for the better after all.

- You two sat and spoke over shared glasses of wine, some food, and got to know each other some.

- You talked of your hobbies, your work, your life goals, your favorite things, over all it had turned out far nicer than he could have imagined it would have been.

- You were both laughing and talking amongst each other when another woman came up to the table, looking dressed for a date and seemingly not very happy to see you sitting in her place.

- “Umm excuse me, I think you have the wrong guy, I’m supposed to be on a date with him” the girl spoke, pointing to him and regarding him as if he were an object of her possession making you turn to her and you fought to stifle a harsh laugh.

- “Oh I’m sorry, were you the one whose seat I’m in? Funny because you’re about two hours late sister. Finders keepers” you replied, trying to wave her off then turn back to Kyle and ignore the woman who clearly stood him up by the hickies all over her neck that were very poorly covered.

- “Excuse me?!” She asked angrily, making you turn back to her once again, only this time more annoyed at her persistence and rudeness. “Oh I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you were dense and rude, I said finders keepers. Should keep that in mind next time when you decide to be late to a date because you were too busy having fun with another” you said, gesturing to her hair that was slightly unkempt and the fresh love bites along her neck.

- It took everything in Kyle to not let his jaw hit the table at your response in his defense.

- He liked you even more now.

- “Oh and newsflash sweetie, that concealer really isn’t your shade. If you want to cover up hickies, find one that matches. Now if you excuse us, we’re trying to have a nice dinner here and I’d really like to get back to the very nice man you decided to stand up” you said, making her angrily scoff and look to Kyle for his defense.

- “Ugh, Kevin! C’mon, tell her to leave! This was supposed to be our night!” She said, making you cringe at her whiney tone and the way she didn’t even know his name.

- “My name’s Kyle and no. She was kind enough t’ come up t’ me when you weren’t here and I’m havin’ a rather lovely time with her. I’m sure the date who entertained you before this would happily take you back. I will not be rude and ask the woman who’s so kindly kept me company to leave because you think you’re entitled to crash our date” he replied, and she did NOT like that one bit.

- “DATE?! Ugh, whatever! I knew I shouldn’t have come here” she said angrily before stomping away once it became apparent that you weren’t leaving.

- He couldn’t have been more relieved, then soon enamored by you. First, you come over to him because you didn’t want him to be alone, then you defend him against his date?

- Where have you been all this time?

- “That was your date? If you asked me, I think you dodged a bullet there” you said with a grin, making him chuckle.

- “I couldn’t agree with you more” he replied, enjoying your company far more.

- “Glad to know you’re having a lovely time with me, because the feeling is quite mutual” you said genuinely, making a blush rise to his face before smiling back at you.

- Once the date was over, you both exchanged numbers, keeping in contact and being sure to step up more dates to come.

- Maybe his married buddies were right, all it took was for him to stop searching and there you suddenly were.

König

- He wasn’t exactly proud of it, but he met you through one of the guys who had set you up with him as a one night stand.

- Someone that would just give him some fun and a chance to relax for a night, with the guys claiming he needed to be “less tense”

- He’d had his fair share of sexual encounters before from past girlfriends and the occasional hookup, but something about you felt different.

- You were kind and sweet, a little shy, and of course really attractive.

- Not to mention the sex was unbelievably good.

- He loved that he was so much bigger than you, that you felt so small in his hands as they slid around your waist and to your hips as he kissed you, and how yours trailed his biceps and hard chest.

- Thought it was cute that you have to get up on your tiptoes to kiss him or to loop your arms around his neck.

- What he loved most was how you toyed with him, how you could be obedient and bratty, you could be dominant and submissive.

- You had an almost chaotic, unpredictable air about you.

- You were the wild card he’s been looking for.

- So as you both laid in his bed, his hand running along your back soothingly as you laid on top of him, naked and enjoying the after glow of the activities you’d just taken part in, the words left him without any second thought.

- “Could we…maybe see each other again, liebling?” He asked, and how you swooned at the nickname and his German accent.

- You thought it was so cute that a man of his stature, someone who looked so scary and big could be so shy.

- “Awww, do I have someone hooked?” You asked in a teasing tone with a devious giggle to match, making him blush at your words.

- “It doesn’t have to be like this again i-if you don’t want it to” he stammered, making you giggle as he tripped over his words a little.

- “I wouldn’t half mind if it was…” you said with a half lidded grin, littering kisses against his neck and chest because truth be told, you were a little hooked on him too.

- “Would you let me take you out? Properly get to know you?” He asked, wanting to treat you right, wanting to show that he had better intentions than just a one night stand if you’d let him.

- He’d have started that way had one of his friends not set this up without him knowing.

- “that sounds really nice” you replied sweetly, liking the idea of maybe seeing where it goes.

- It was adorable seeing the excitement that flashed in his eyes when you agreed, making you giggle.

- “Such a gentleman, I like it” you added, feeling butterflies begin to flutter in your stomach at the thought.

- He gave a chuckle as he rolled you both to where he was on top of you, taking you by surprise at first before looking up at him with that half lidded gaze he couldn’t get enough of.

- “I’ll take you out to dinner, get to know you, treat you right, then we can come back here…and I can be far less gentlemanly” he said through kisses he laid against your neck and shoulder, making you giggle.

- “I’d like that” you whispered in reply as your lips found his once more, a smile donning your lips at the prospect of it.

- He could hardly wait, the guilt of knowing your body first and the rest of you later no longer ate at his conscience as you both were swept up in the moment again.

Simon “Ghost” Riley

- He was a frequent flier to medical more so now than he ever was before since meeting you, and you were the nurse he’d always see to help him.

- Hardly was he ever really there for anything super serious, a cut here, a gash there, an infection from something caught out in the field.

- He rarely ever enjoyed anyone fussing over him, in fact if it weren’t for you, he wouldn’t even go to medical for his injuries, more of the type to tough it out with a bottle of whiskey and some pain pills to take the edge off.

- It was your soft touch on his arm as you stitched him up, the way you respected his privacy in not asking him to remove his mask anytime he was there, even the smell of your shampoo as you tended to a cut on his collarbone.

- You would always smile and shake your head, hands on your hip like a mom whose child got back from causing trouble when he would enter.

- “What’s it this time?” You’d ask before he’d show you, then tell you briefly and vaguely about how it happened and groan and complain that it happened at all.

- This time however was far more serious.

- You saw the blood seeping through his shirt, dripping as he walked, his hand clutched to the wound as he saw you, making you all but drop what you were doing.

- “Si? Oh my god, sit, sit! What the hell happened??” You asked, concern evident in your tone, something he’d never really gotten from others before.

- Did he just hear you call him Si? Oh the poor man was hooked without even knowing.

- “Just a bullet sweetheart, had thousands of ‘em fly my way, just unlucky enough this time t’ ‘ave one land” he said nonchalantly but you could tell by its placement that he was in pain.

- “You’ve been shot and you’re just walking in here as if it were nothing? Why didn’t you call me? I’d have come to you! Actually don’t answer that, I know you’re too stubborn and wouldn’t let me” you replied, making him chuckle.

- You had him lay down on his back, slicing open the shirt with a pair of scissors before tearing it so you could get to the wound quickly and with no obstructions.

- And that was the most attractive thing he swore he’d ever seen.

- “An’ here I thought you were suppose t’ take me out on a date before you rip my shirt off” he said dryly, wanting that look of worry and that tense stressed feeling to fall from you, making you laugh.

- “Fuck, well they didn’t teach us that in basics” you replied, making him chuckle as you laughed along with while getting him and your tools prepped.

- “Maybe that was my lucky shirt” he joked once more, making you roll your eyes with a playful grin but you were still worried about him.

- “We can mourn the shirt later, I’m more worried about the bullet inside of you and getting it out first” you added, making him grin beneath his mask as you blushed a little at the sight of him shirtless.

- “Practically skipped dates one through three at this point, seen me down t’ everything above the belt” he said, making you laugh again as you cleaned his wound and prepped your instruments to remove the bullet.

- “Well, maybe if you keep coming back for me to check on you and the progress of your stitches, then in say maybe…four weeks for proper healing, I’ll take you up on a proper date” you proposed, and he couldn’t lie, he liked the sounds of that.

- “Then, maybe if you’re lucky, we’ll skip the shirt and get below the belt finally too” you said, sending a grin and a wink his way, making him chuckle as the clang of the shell casing hit the metal bowl.

- “That means no more getting shot in that time though, or else you’ll have to wait even longer” you teased, making him chuckle again.

- “Fuckin’ torturin’ me luv. Makin’ me wait that long” he replied, making you giggle a little and you figured it was the morphine kicking in that let him be this open with you, not that he hadn’t been before but he was certainly more relaxed now.

- Would mumble compliments under his breath like “smell s’good luvie” “y’ look s’pretty like that” making your cheeks feel as if they were being light on fire and the smile never leaving your lips.

- Little did you know, he secretly would be counting down the days and had more of a reason not to get himself killed out in the field.

#könig cod #cod x reader #cod imagine #call of duty #call of duty fanfic #kyle gaz garrick #simon ghost riley #john soap mctavish x reader #john price #konig #john soap mactavish #cod ghost #captain price #price x reader #konig x reader #gaz x reader

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lovebugism · 10 months

Note

hiiii 😊 i LOVE your writing, especially shy!reader!! i heard you wanted more spooky/angsty requests, so...

maybe one with eddie where they're camping with the group around halloween and everyone is telling scary stories around the campfire, but reader gets really scared and doesn't wanna hear any more, but she can tell eddies having so much fun that she doesn't say anything. eventually eddie notices something's wrong but reader won't tell him what, then he figures it out and comforts her?

ty lovie! hope you like it! — eddie comforts you when your imagination runs too wild, maybe a little more than best friends are supposed to (shy!reader, friends to lovers, hurt/comfort, 1.5k)

fictober leftovers (㇏(•̀ᵥᵥ•́)ノ)

You know you shouldn’t be as scared as you are, but you keep torturing yourself anyway.

Robin Buckley, as it turns out, has about the same storytelling abilities as Edgar Allan Poe. She spins a web of horror with nothing but a couple wretched words and a wild imagination. Lit up orange by the simmering campfire, you listened to her in wide-eyed horror — like a child just learning about the boogeyman.

She’s stomping out that fire now, laughing loud and pretty after telling Nancy some dirty joke, and acting like she didn’t just get done telling the gnarliest ghost story of all time. You’re frozen on the rickety bench that overlooks the pitch-black lake, too busy convincing yourself that there’s a figure in the treeline — a Jason Vorhees equivalent on his way to murder you in your sleep.

Eddie’s sitting beside you, though. The warmth of his presence puts you at ease, like a belly full of food or a warm bed. You nearly jump out of your skin when he rises from the picnic table.

“Me and Steve were gonna go smoke,” he tells you, pulling a smushed carton of cigarettes from his jacket pocket. “You okay here?”

You blink at him for a moment. It takes you a second too long to hear him, having been so stuck in your own head. You don’t trust your voice, so you just nod and try your best to smile something convincing. It’s a grimace, at best.

Eddie sees right through you. You’re rarely so passive with him. He’d only asked ‘cause he doesn’t like to smoke around you much. He knows you don’t like it. Now he’s scared he might’ve offended you in some way.

“You sure?” he presses, bushy brows pinched in concern.

You nod again, much slower this time and far more dramatic.

Eddie smiles down at you, pink and lopsided. This quiet, sarcastic version of you is much more familiar. “Well, are you gonna speak, or are you gonna do the not-talking thing for the rest of the night?”

He flicks a strand of your hair. You squint. What not-talking thing? you’d argue if he didn’t know you so damn well. Instead, you just tell him, “I’m okay,” in the firmest tone your mousy voice can muster.

“Do you wanna come with?”

He cocks a thumb over his shoulder, where Steve’s brave figure ventures up the darkened trail to his dad’s lakehouse. You cower under the weight of his chocolate stare, wringing your clammy hands in your lap.

“Is that okay?” you ask in response.

Eddie scoffs. “Of course, it’s okay! Want you everywhere I go.”

You try not to get all flustered about it. Friends aren’t supposed to burn up like a stove-eye when their best friend is nice to them. It’s impossible not to, though, when Eddie’s leather-clad arm wraps around your shoulders — to keep you close, maybe, or to keep you warm.

Your stomach is in knots about it either way.

You lean further into his warmth. He smells like cologne and boy and a weekend on a lake. You wrap your arms around yourself when a crisp breeze prickles your skin. You clench your jaw to keep your teeth from chattering.

Eddie sees everything you hide from him and holds you tighter. “Told you to wear a jacket.”

“It was warmer earlier!” you retort without missing a beat.

“Well, that’s why you listen to me.”

“I didn’t have a jacket big enough to wear over my sweater!”

“I told you to borrow mine, you loon!”

“But then you would’ve been cold!”

The married couple arguing fills the darkened woods, illuminated only by a dim moon and some amber lanterns hung every couple yards. Something rustles in the pitch-black, and the bickering ceases.

Your heart lurches into your throat. You gasp, almost cartoonishly so, and your sneakers scuff along the gravel when you freeze.

Eddie laughs it off like he always does. The warm, honeyed, boyish noise doesn’t comfort you like it usually does. “It’s okay,” he tries to assure you through his chuckling, squeezing your shoulder with a warm hand. “It’s probably just, like, a rabbit or something.”

You remain frozen and unswayed. “Sounded heavier than a rabbit…”

“What? You are, like, an expert on wildlife now?” Eddie teases, if only to make you smile. You do, but just barely. He holds you tighter and juts his chin back to look down at you, grinning wide to make up for the lack of yours. “You spend one weekend in a cabin, and suddenly you’re a know-it-all on nature?”

You start smiling wider despite yourself. The sparkly feeling Eddie swirls in your chest is much more powerful than the tiny, lingering fear in your tummy.

“I just know what footsteps sound like, dork.”

The rustling returns, louder now. Tree limbs crack when they’re broken beneath the weight of something definitely heavier than a rabbit. When two figures appear from the blackened forest, you stumble into Eddie on instinct. He presses you closer to him without thinking, pulling you backward from the lanky silhouettes across the trail.

One step closer, and the shadows have faces. Jonathan and Argyle stand shoulder-to-shoulder in the tall grass. They’re starry-eyed, gazes rimmed red. The latter lifts the hem of his t-shirt, forming a bowl of something you can’t see.

“Hey, brochachos!” Argyle greets, perhaps a little too loud for the late night.

Jonathan is the only halfway sober one of the two, so he notices the fright dancing in your features before his best friend can. He mumbles, much quieter in comparison to his brightly-dressed counterpart, “Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you.”

“The hell are you guys doing out here?” Eddie wonders with a partly forced laugh.

“Scavenging for mushrooms,” Argyle answers like it’s obvious. He brings down the bottom of his shirt and flashes the makeshift bowl of mushrooms he’s collecting there.

The brunette boy nods. Slow, dumbfounded, and a little impressed. “That is a… totally normal thing to be doing in the middle of the night… We’ll, uh— We’ll leave you to it, I guess.”

“I’ll make sure to save you some!” the Californian boy promises as the two of you head up the trail.

Eddie’s hold on you doesn’t waver. His leather arm is firm in its grip and its delegation to keep you close to his side. You’re halfway stumbling to keep up with his longer strides, but you don’t mind it. You’re just happy to be held.

“You can breathe now, you know?” he teases.

You manage a trembling laugh. You know you have nothing to worry about, but you’re still high-strung and worried without cause. “Sorry. I just… I don’t know— I got a little scared.”

“Yeah. I can tell,” Eddie scoffs. “Feels like I’m hugging a rock right now.”

Your laugh is more genuine this time, but still a bit forced. Eddie can tell. You’ve been quiet all night, reserved and a little standoffish. You’ve always been a little timid in your way, just more than he’s used to now.

“Was it those dumb ghost stories everyone was telling earlier? ‘Cause I said we shoulda just played Spin the Bottle instead.”

You lean further into him to nudge him with your shoulder. “It’s fine. I’m just a baby.”

“No, Robin is just the second coming of Stephen fucking King.”

“Yeah, that’s also probably true,” you concur with a shrug, feigning a sort of nonchalance despite your racing mind. “My imagination is just… a little crazy sometimes.”

“Trust me, I know,” Eddie sighs, then slows down so he can face you more. His features are softened beneath the amber glow — more so when he gazes at you with a honeyed fondness you’re not entirely sure two friends are supposed to have for each other.

You’re cold when he unwraps his arm from around your shoulders — warm again when he holds your cheek in a calloused palm. You hope you’re not burning him with how hot your face has gone.

“I wanna know what’s going on in here,” he murmurs quietly, tapping a ringed finger to your temple.

“It’s a scary, scary place,” you joke back. It’s mostly true, but you figure it’s easier than saying that your brain is so often filled with thoughts of him.

“Well, I’ll protect you from whatever nasty horrors your mean ol’ brain conjures up,” Eddie promises, nose scrunched and dark eyes sparkling.

Your chest swells with a foreign warmth, so hot it burns. “Thanks, Eds,” you mumble, trying your hardest not to melt into a puddle at his feet. The two of you fall into stride once more.

“I’ll even let you sleep in my bed and put your cold feet on me if you want.” He offers it begrudgingly. Like it’s some kind of burden. He doesn’t mind it, though. He’d beg you for it if you wanted him to.

You scoff and roll your eyes. “How chivalrous.”

“You’ll have to put up with Harrington’s snoring, though.”

The two boys are sharing one room while the rest of you girls share the other. You pinch your brows and flash him a pointed look. “Eds, you snore.”

His face screws up in offense. “I do not!”

#published by bug #eddie munson x reader #stranger things x reader #eddie munson #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fic #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fluff #st drabbles #eddie spaghetti drabble #event: fictober!

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roosterforme · 10 months

Text

Adult Education Part 12 | Hangman x OC

Summary: Jessica enjoys showing off her closet almost as much as Jake enjoys unwrapping his gift. When the two of them head to the fundraiser she's spent weeks planning, Jake recognizes the strong feelings he has for her. And there's no way he'd let anyone take this night away from her.

Warnings: Fluff, smut, oral f receiving, angst, swearing, frat boys, 18+

Length: 4400 words

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Female OC

This story is part of the Beer Boy and Sugar universe but can be read on its own! Adult Education masterlist

Seriously, who let Jake on my masterlist!? Banner by @mak-32

Jake was trying to play it cool on Friday night as he knocked on Jessica's door. "I'm coming!" she called from inside as he shifted the baking dish around in his hand along with his garment bag. He had everything he would need for the weekend, including his suit for her fundraiser.

When she opened the door for him, she looked breathless and flushed. "Hi," she whispered, and then Jake had her in his arms, too.

"I missed you," he replied. "But I need you to take this lasagna before I drop it."

"Oh! You brought dinner?" she asked, looking astonished as she took the foil covered dish from his arms. "You didn't have to do that."

"I like feeding you," he told her with a wink as he walked inside and closed her apartment door behind him. And then he really took a look at her. She was wearing a deep purple jewel toned robe and seemingly nothing else. It was short and silky and barely covered her backside as she ran into her tiny, mostly unused kitchen and peeked inside the foil.

"It looks so good," she moaned.

Jake draped his garment jacket over the back of the couch and tossed his overnight bag with it as he headed for the kitchen as well. "Preheat the oven and we can eat it in about an hour."

She did, and then she spun to face him as she adjusted her glasses. Her nipples were peaks against the silk fabric, and Jake desperately wanted to untie it and see if she was wearing panties. Jessica was his girlfriend, and technically she had invited him over to look at and enjoy her lingerie collection with him, but he didn't want to make it seem like that was the only reason he was here. Because it wasn't.

He leaned in and kissed her. "I'm looking forward to tomorrow night."

"Me too," she replied, leaning away from him a bit as she reached for the sash holding her robe closed. "But I'm looking forward to tonight just as much. And I have a great idea of how we can entertain ourselves while dinner cooks."

Jake watched her fingers work the knot until the fabric drifted open to reveal her delicate skin from the valley between her breasts all the way down to her pussy. "I love the way you think," he murmured, running his knuckles along her belly button. "You're so damn smart, Baby." He trailed his hand slowly up her body until he was cupping her chin while she shivered.

"You stay here while I go change?" Her eyes were wide and focused on his as he stroked her neck.

"Mmhmm. I'll put the food in the oven and set the timer. Be there in a minute."

Jessica bounced off toward her bedroom with her robe flying behind her while Jake had to unzip his jeans for a little relief. He had to fight the urge to touch himself as he waited for the oven to preheat. How the hell was this happening to him? He counted his blessings as he put the lasagna in to cook and followed Jessica at a slower pace. Her bedroom was softly lit and smelled as sweet as she always did. When he found her, she was standing in her small walk-in closet with her back to him.

"Reedy," he crooned. She was wearing more of those black stockings he liked so much. The tops of them just barely dug into her soft thighs, and she had on her black high heels. This time she paired them with a black garter belt and thong, and when she tossed her hair across her upper back, he saw her black bra straps, too.

She peeked at him over her shoulder and whispered, "Wanna unwrap your present?"

He was already sweating. Jake tugged his own tee shirt over his head and tossed it to the floor as he stepped up right behind her. "I think I'd like to enjoy the way it looks first."

Soft laughter filled the small space as Jake's hands found her shoulders and then trailed them down her arms. She shivered when he pressed the front of his jeans to her ass, letting her feel the rough fabric on her perfect skin. "Jake," she whispered, rubbing back against him as he brought his hands around to the front of her waist to her soft belly.

When he kissed the side of her neck, she arched her back, and those pretty breasts were jutting out covered in black lace. "I like this look on you," he whispered, bringing his left hand up to squeeze her tits. "It's a little filthy. Where's my sweet Jessica?"

She whined as his right hand dipped into the front of her thong and went right for her clit. "I'm still sweet," she mumbled, already sounding out of breath as he sucked on the side of her neck.

"You sure are," he mused, pushing two fingers through her folds and inside her as she bucked. He licked her neck and whispered, "Let me taste your pussy?"

Jake was rock hard in his jeans as she rubbed on him and moaned, "Anything you want."

He smirked and sucked on her neck hard enough to leave a mark. Then he withdrew his fingers and pulled his hand free from the black lace. He spun her around to watch him lick his fingers clean of her slick, and she already looked a little dazed. "If you offer up everything, I can't promise I won't take it."

She wrapped her arms around his neck and chased his lips, and Jake let her taste herself there. He palmed her ass and scooped her up, and she gasped and giggled when he dropped her onto her back on the bed. "What are you gonna do?" she asked, adjusting her glasses with a little grin as she looked up at him.

"Well first of all, I'm gonna take that little grin off your face," he whispered, reaching for her ankles and pulling her to the edge of the bed as she squealed. "Then I'm gonna make you come." He kissed the inside of her left calf before gently guiding both legs over his shoulders. The silky stockings felt nice on his bare skin as he bent and kissed along her belly. Her fingers were in his hair as he reached beneath her and unclasped her bra. She helped him toss it away as he licked and nuzzled the undersides of her breasts. "Jesus," he moaned, pushing her thighs back with his shoulders to get better access to her tits.

Jessica whimpered as he rubbed at her wet pussy through the thong while he sucked on her nipples. She was lying here, prepared to let him do what he wanted, but the only thing he needed was to prove he was good enough for her. Jake took his time, licking and sucking and worshipping her breasts until she was begging him for more. He took her hands in his and guided them from his hair and wrapped them around the backs of her own thighs.

"You keep yourself open nice and wide for me," he grunted, kneeling on the floor and kissing her inner thigh. She smelled sweet and ready for him; she'd already soaked through her lingerie.

"Okay," she whispered, watching him with parted lips as he tugged her thong to one side and buried his nose in her pussy. He kissed her opening as her high heels dug into his back a little bit, and she bucked up toward his face.

"Shh," he coaxed, holding her hips still as she whined his name. "I'm right here." That just seemed to make her go crazier, because he had to pin her down to the bed to enjoy her the way he wanted to: leisurely and thoroughly.

"Fuck," she gasped, spreading her own legs wider as Jake wrapped his lips around her clit and sucked softly at first and then harder. The little bud was as smooth as a pearl against his tongue and oh so sensitive. "Jake," she whispered as he lapped her up before kissing the little patch of her trimmed hair.

"You want me to stop?" he teased, and she tried to buck up for more.

"No!" she whined.

He kissed her clit. "Then spread 'em wider for me, Baby," he crooned, licking her up and down when she obeyed him. He ate her out like she deserved, coating his chin and lips with her slick and his saliva, licking and sucking until she was shaking. Then he just sucked a steady rhythm on her clit until her gasps and cries grew louder and louder. The gentle roll of her hips fighting him for more pressure let him know she was close.

Then he felt and tasted the little gush against his tongue as she dripped down his chin. Her legs fell limp as he looked up at her perfect body where her breasts shook alluringly with each little aftershock while she chewed on her fingers.

"Damn," he grunted, easing her legs down gently. He could hear the kitchen timer going off as she looked up at him. When he eased his body down on top of hers, he cock twitched, but he convinced himself he could wait to get himself wet. "You're gorgeous," he whispered, and she brought her fingers back to his hair as he kissed her cheeks and then her parted lips. "Let me get your robe, and you just take your time coming to the kitchen for dinner."

"You don't need to fuck me?" she asked softly.

Jake chuckled. "Not as badly as I need to feed you dinner so you have energy for later."

-------------------------------

Jessica was sitting at her table in her lingerie with her robe wrapped around her, a clip holding her messy hair on top of her head. Jake was bustling around the kitchen in just his unzipped jeans wearing her oven mitts and humming along to a song that must have been stuck in his head. She groaned and cradled her face in her hands. He was so sexy and so damn sweet. How was she supposed to have stopped herself from falling for him?

"Baby, you want me to open this bottle of wine?" he asked, holding up the merlot that was on the counter.

"Sure," she replied, watching his biceps work the wine opener. Then he brought her a plate of piping hot, homemade lasagna and a glass of her favorite wine. Before he could turn back to the kitchen to grab the rest, she reached for his hand. "Thank you."

Jake chuckled. "I should be thanking you," he muttered, kissing her forehead before he went to get his own food.

She didn't realize how hungry she was until she took a bite. "It's so good," she whispered before she worked on cleaning her plate. Jessica mostly subsisted off of cereal, sandwiches, and lean cuisines unless he cooked something for her, and this was so delicious, she could have cried. She ate a second serving with no remorse.

"I was going to change into something else," she whispered as she finished her glass of wine. "I'll let you choose something this time. But it's your fault and your lasagna's fault if I look bloated now."

Jake pushed his chair back, sitting there looking like a model from Men's Health magazine. When he patted his thigh, she straddled his lap and took a seat. Once again he untied the sash of her robe and stroked her from the top of her chest, down between her bare breasts, to the top of her garter belt. "Still looks perfect to me," he mumbled, pushing her robe open further and playing with her nipple. "You said I get to choose this time?" he asked, smirking up at her as he cupped her breast and leaned in to kiss the bruised spot on her neck.

"Mmhmm," she hummed, leaning into his touch. "Pick a color and I'll get changed so you can fuck me."

Jake grunted. "Navy blue."

She smiled and kissed him before heading back to her closet with just the perfect thing in mind. As she slipped into a lacy, crotchless teddy in a rich, dark blue, she could hear Jake cleaning up in the kitchen. She selected a pair of red heels and let her hair out of the clip. She felt really sexy in this one, and when Jake walked into the bedroom, she was already bent over the bed, resting on her elbows, on display for him.

"That's a beautiful sight," he murmured, his voice deep with need. Jessica could feel her nipples furl at his words alone. "Is this for me?" he asked, patting her bare pussy from behind.

"Yes," she moaned as he slid his hand up to her butt.

"How about this?"

"Yes," she repeated, feeling like she must be wet enough to drip on the floor.

Without another word, she felt his knee wedge between her thighs, and he knocked her feet further apart with his own. "Jake," she whispered, legs spread wide as he squeezed her thighs, and then she felt his mouth on her again. "Oh."

He licked her pussy until she was practically seeing stars. When her legs shook, Jake helped her kneel on the edge of the bed, and then he ate her some more. His hands were a little rougher this time on her thighs, but it felt so good. And he was a quick study, because he had her coming again on his tongue.

She braced her hands on her light blue bedding, ready for him to start thrusting; he had more than earned it. But instead, Jake helped her roll over onto her back as she caught her breath, and then he plopped down next to her and took her hand.

"You wanna change one more time?" he asked, stroking his fingers through her messy hair. "This time I'll unwrap my present before having my way with it."

She closed her eyes and basked in his words before she started to stand. "I have just the thing."

------------------------

Jake eased his jeans down his legs, his lips still wet with Jessica. He'd be lying right now if he said he didn't desperately need to cum. He stroked himself slowly as she opened and closed some drawers in her closet, and his hand was still wrapped around his cock when she returned.

Somehow she'd gone from the naughty, strappy lingerie to this cream colored set, but he was just as turned on for this more innocent look. A cupless bra that tied into a soft, satin bow over her breasts and some high waisted underwear. "Come here, Smart Girl," he growled, and she seemed to know just what he wanted as she crawled on top of him. "I like this."

He adjusted her glasses and kissed her lips as he ran his big hand along her panties. Everything was so soft. Like he'd never had before. Even her voice as she whispered, "Go ahead and unwrap me," sounded sweet to his ears. So he slid her underwear down to her bare feet, and she kicked them aside. Then without warning, she wrapped her hand around his cock and sank down on him. She swirled her hips slowly as he untied the satin bow slowly until her tits popped free.

Jake brought his lips up to her chest as she braced her hands on his shoulders. She made soft, needy little noises as she bumped along with her tits in his face. "You're the perfect present," he whispered. "Can't get enough."

When he rolled her onto her back and thrust into her until he came, he kissed her flushed cheeks and her lips as she moaned. Then he got to enjoy the sight of his cum leaking out of her hole and down her ass before he accompanied her to the shower.

She was soft and drowsy in his arms, resting her cheek against his chest as he told her how she was always so sweet for him. How she was everything he wanted. He knew he was falling in love with his Smart Girl who kept him on his toes.

--------------------------

Jessica slept so well snuggled up tight with Jake, her fingers in his chest hair. Apparently she was more worn out than she thought, because it was after ten on Saturday morning when she opened her eyes. And as soon as she did, he wrapped his arms around her tighter. "Morning," he whispered. "You ready for your fancy fundraiser?"

She groaned. On paper, yes, she was ready. Mentally? Hardly. "Can we just stay in bed all day instead?" she asked softly as Jake kissed her shoulder.

"No," he replied. "I want to see you in action. Work up an appetite for tonight."

She chuckled. "Well I'm putting you, Bradley and Dev to work all evening."

"Dev is coming?" Jake asked abruptly, his hand pausing on her body.

"Yeah. I invited him when he donated the beer. I've been emailing him to coordinate since he sent me things for the silent auction."

"He has a thing for you," Jake said bluntly. Jessica shimmied around until she was facing him. "Bradshaw told me like a hundred times with a smug look on his face."

She felt her cheeks grow warm. "But I have a thing for you. You're my boyfriend."

Jake kissed her softly and asked, "Did you give him your phone number inside one of the journals from your personal collection?"

"No!" she replied, scandalized. "You're the only one I could ever want to tease like that. Although I was honestly a little afraid I took it too far and you had given up on me." She buried her face against his neck since she didn't have her glasses on.

"Baby, I was so hooked after the first night at Chippy's, I'd still be begging you for your number now. I mean, Jessica... I bought a new truck for you."

"Oh my god," she moaned, certain her face was bright red. Butterflies erupted in her tummy as she thought about it. "Jake. Stop."

"I don't want to."

The morning gave way to lunchtime as they made love. She knew it would take her a while to get ready for the event, but she just couldn't rush something that felt so good. "I love this," Jake whispered against her ear while he had her hands pinned on the pillow above her head. Goosebumps covered her arms and legs. All the fine hairs on her body were tingling at the sensation of him rocking into her while he whispered, "Love it."

Then he made her brunch while she took a quick shower and cleaned up the mess he made with his cum. She ate eggs and toast with a huge mug of coffee while he headed off to shower, leaving her with the words, "I could get used to Saturdays like this."

She could, too. Jake was the best combination of everything. Sure, he could cook and he was hot and good in bed, but she liked having him around. She thought about him all day when she was at work. And he seemed to know how often she needed to have her own space. He bought a truck to make sure he wasn't late meeting her again. She groaned softly, already feeling needy for him again. How the hell was that possible? She was actually quite sore at the moment.

With a soft smile, she put her plate in the dishwasher and headed to her closet. She was pulling on the tiny emerald green underwear when Jake strolled in completely naked. "Hey," he whispered, wrapping his arms around her from behind. She melted against him, his skin still warm and damp from the shower. "What color are you wearing so I know which tie to put on?"

She pointed to the long, green dress hanging up. "This one."

"Pretty," he mumbled against her temple. "Then I'll wear my black tie instead of red or gold."

Once he was gone again, she shivered as she fixed her hair and makeup in her underwear. Jake was completely dressed and shaved with his hair styled by the time she was ready. He helped her into her dress and zipped up the back. It was tasteful with a flowing skirt, but there was a long slit going up her left leg. The top fit snugly over her breasts, and the thin straps accentuated her collarbones and shoulders.

When she put her glasses back on, Jake said, "You're a knockout, Reedy. You ready to go to this thing?"

She slipped her heels on, gathered up her bag filled with notebooks and folders and then laced her fingers with his. "Let's go."

---------------------------

Jake could tell she was nervous. His main goal for the evening was to help make everything as easy as possible for her, but she was quiet in his truck on the drive over. He wasn't sure what he could do for her right now. When she reached for his hand, she held onto him while she anxiously checked her phone. Jake was pretty sure they had plenty of time to get everything done, and he would take care of whatever she needed.

"Okay, so Bradley is loading the chilled kegs into his Bronco right now according to his wife, and then they are heading over to campus. The ice buckets should be ready. The frat boys reassured me they did everything on the checklist, including moving the furniture outside. The string quartet should arrive at 5:30. Dev should arrive around then, too. You and Bradley can set up the tables for beer pong. The culinary students should be in the kitchen within the next hour. Oh my god, did I miss anything?"

"Baby, I think you have it all under control," Jake said in as calming a voice as he could manage.

But she went silent and stared out the window. Several minutes passed before she quietly said, "I need this to be perfect if I ever stand a chance at tenure under Brian."

Jake let his fingers tighten around her small hand. He didn't even like hearing her say his name. "Will he be there?" Jake asked, his voice sounding a little rough.

She kind of shrugged as he turned down the block near the frat houses. "I wouldn't be surprised if he stops by. But I sold so many tickets, I don't see what he could complain about," she replied, her voice sounding a little more confident.

"Right," Jake said, parking behind the Bronco where Bradshaw and his wife were making out on the sidewalk. "Just stay with me, okay? And if you need anything, I'll help you take care of it."

"Okay," she whispered with a smile. And Jake knew he'd punch Brian Conley directly in his face before he let him upset his girlfriend tonight.

Bradshaw and his wife managed to separate long enough for Bradley to help Jessica down from the truck. Jake just shook his head at the other man sporting a black suit without a tie paired with a University of Chicago cap perched backwards on his head. The top two buttons of his shirt were undone.

"You have a little something right there," Jessica told him, pointing to his lips and cheek where his wife's red lipstick was smudged.

"Yeah," he replied with a nod and a smirk and then did absolutely nothing to clean himself up.

His wife was wearing a form fitting black dress reminiscent of the one she wore on New Year's Eve when Jake got severely drunk and called her Dr. Tits. But this dress wasn't low cut, and it had a pretty sheer fabric covering her up to her neck and down her arms to her wrists.

"Hi, Jake," she said, almost like she knew what he was thinking about. "Are you going to behave tonight?"

He nodded at Jessica and said, "I've turned over a new leaf." That made the other woman smile.

"Listen," Bradley said, adjusting his cap before he wrapped his arm around his wife. "I helped the guys put the kegs in the tubs of ice. But I gotta ask, is this like some sort of nerd frat or something?" he asked Jessica, jerking his thumb at the Kappa Pi house behind him. "They called me sir, and there are absolutely no half naked girls hanging out inside."

Both women laughed at the look of concern on his face. "I told them no personal guests. Only those with purchased tickets will be admitted. In fact, I'm going to have one of them stationed at the door scanning the tickets on everyone's phones."

"I still think it's a nerd frat," he muttered as Jessica took Jake by the hand and led him up to the front door with the other two in tow. "And I don't know how I feel about that."

Once they were inside, Jake looked around the entryway with appreciation. Victorian style wallpaper, crown molding and glossy hardwood floors. The wide stairs had a carpet runner, and it actually smelled nice. "Is this what your fraternity house was like, Bradshaw?"

"No." The other man nearly doubled over in laughter as he shook his head. "Not even close, Hangman. We would have destroyed all this shit within a week."

"I can vouch for that," his wife added as she patted him on the back.

Jessica turned and looked at him. "Were you in a fraternity, Jake?"

"No," he replied. "But I'm pleasantly surprised by this house. Might have pledged if something like this existed on my campus."

And then suddenly the four of them were no longer alone. A dozen or so guys in tuxedos made their way into the room at the same time the string quartet entered the house. People with chafing dishes came parading through, and Jessica pointed Jake toward five ping pong tables folded up against the wall.

"Don't worry," Bradley said with a knowing smile. "We'll show you how it's done. It'll be just like New Year's Eve."

"That's what I'm afraid of," Jake replied as Jessica blew him a kiss before she got pulled into the kitchen. "Let the fundraiser commence," he mumbled.

"No," Bradley replied, cracking his knuckles and rolling his shoulders. "Let the fratraiser commence."

--------------------------

Welcome to the fratraiser. What could go wrong? Thanks @mak-32 and @beyondthesefourwalls

PART 13

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perfectlyoongi · 3 months

Text

BOYFRIEND!HOSEOK who slow dances with you when the moon is high and your house is deep into comfortable darkness. illuminated by the intense light that emanated from an open and forgotten refrigerator, Hoseok's hands rested on your body, already sculpted by your figure, lulling you into a silent melody that filled your kitchen and warmed your hearts. “next time, let’s dance to the song that i will create just for the two of us.”

BOYFRIEND!HOSEOK who tries to hide his face every time you compliment him. your words always left Hoseok shy, his heart wrapped in a comforting veil of reassurance and passion, having no other option than to hide his rosy face out of embarrassment, the smile that you only saw at a glance being an extension of his happiness. “okay, okay, i got! you can stop now, please. i don’t have a mirror with me to reflect all these compliments, it’s not fair.”

BOYFRIEND!HOSEOK who has a self-care night with you at least once a month. facial masks, massages on your shoulders and back, your favorite snacks accompanied by your favorite movie, Hoseok made sure that, for at least one night, all your doubts and tribulations didn't stain your mind with the negativity of the world. “just relax for today, yea? the world can wait a few hours for you. focus on taking care of yourself first before taking care of others.”

BOYFRIEND!HOSEOK who likes to see you comfortable on long car rides; Hoseok always has an extra pair of sunglasses in his car during summer and a gloves in the winter to make sure that you were comfortable while he took you to a cabin that already knew your names during long weekends. “i knew you would forget. open the glove compartment, you have everything you need there, my flower.”

BOYFRIEND!HOSEOK who randomly kisses you in different places on your face because he simply loves you. Hoseok always kissed you when he thought you were most beautiful: when you were distracted with chores or focused on something you liked, when you spoke passionately about things or when you drowsily shared the dream you had that night — Hoseok just loved you. “you were too beautiful not to show that i love you. it’s your fault.”

BOYFRIEND!HOSEOK who feeds the stray animals on your street with you. it doesn't matter if you were on vacation or too tired; every morning and before the moon reached the sky, you and Hoseok walked down your street, leaving little treats along the walkway, the various cats and dogs enjoying your food and affection. “one day i will convince you to adopt one of these animals and that will be the day we start our family.”

BOYFRIEND!HOSEOK who said he loved you on a calm winter night while a boring movie was playing on television. wrapped in a fluffy blanket, in each other's arms, Hoseok fell in love with your television-lit skin and the way your eyes had a shine only equivalent to the stars — it was impossible not to confess. “you are always reminding me why i love you. you're incredible, really. damn, i love you so much!”

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reneesghostinthelivingroom · 4 months

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Hii, do you mind doing a poly!plastics x reader where reader gets hypothermia 'cause she fell on a river during winter while she (or the pronoun you feel comfy writing) was out with the plastics on a date or something and the girls just try to stay calm and help reader get warm, rushing to one of the girls house with Gina's car so they can get a lukewarm bath after helping with body heat (nothing more than bear hugs and skin-to-skin cuddles in my mind tbh but feel free to do whatever you have in mind). They freak out a little when they notice reader isn't aware of what's going on (being lucid and answering things) but everything gets better in the end with fluff and assurance from the reader that she's fine now (since her girls are still on their toes about it) :D

Tysm for your fics, they've been making my days better and your last one is not an exception 😊❤️

Burning but it's Ice Cold ||

|| poly!plastics x fem!reader

(i myself am poly!)

|| Warnings: Regina soft for reader, mentions of panic attack, brief hypothermia descriptions, Reader's hurt, hurt/comfort fic

If I missed a warning lmk

|| Summary: reader and the girls go ice skating at Regina's cottage, reader gets distracted by the northern lights and falls through a thin spot of ice. The girls work together to comfort and warm up reader.

Requests open!

Started: May 13th

Finished: May 26th

~~~

It was a cold, February afternoon. You and your girls were staying up at Regina's family cottage for the weekend, enjoying a much needed break from NorthShore drama. Lately it's been feeling like there's some new fire to put out every damn day. The four of you really needed this break.

You were chilling on the couch, sipping a tea when you remembered something you had seen on your way up to the cottage. Maybe about a seven minute walk from here there was a frozen over lake, you grinned as you got up the from the couch and rushed to the kitchen where your girls had been chatting and hanging out while Gretchen cooks.

"We should go ice skating!" You say suddenly, getting their attention.

"Huh?" Regina blinks at you, ice skating?

"Yeah! There's like a frozen lake maybe ten minutes from here!" You smile, bouncing on your heels as your girls exchanged looks.

"I think my parents might have some old skates in the shed. Gretchen, go check." Regina says, Gretchen nods and quickly goes to look for the skates. (the food was forgotten but its okay because its a fanfic)

"Is ice skating like skateboarding?" Karen asked, you and Regina shared a look.

"Mm... I guess?" You tilt your head, thinking a little too hard on it to find the similarities between the two," though it's closer to roller skating.. only on ice."

"That's like really cool." Karen replied, you gave her a soft smile and walked over to give her hand a gentle squeeze as you kissed her cheek.

Gretchen comes back a few moments later, struggling to carry four pairs of skates. You quickly run over and take a few from her to help her out, she gives you a grateful smile as she kisses your cheek.

"Thank you, Y/N/N. Hopefully these will fit." She looks down at the skates, there's one pink pair which were clearly Regina's as on the side there was a slightly darker pink glittery R written in calligraphy. You handed those skates to Regina, she rolled her eyes but took them.

Gretchen handed a pair to Karen. You and Gretchen held the last two pairs for yourselves.

"Alright! Let's go!" You grinned, running to grab your coat and quickly pulling it on before sprinting out the door.

It was getting darker, but the sky was lit with northern lights that shone bright and kept a soft glow on the ground to light up your way.

Your girls quickly caught up to you, dressed in their own respective winter gear and the four of you marvelled at the lights.

All of you took some pictures, as well as a group photo where Regina had her arm draped around your shoulders as she kissed your neck.

You shivered at the feeling but the smile never left your face.

When you finally arrived to the lake, all of you put your skates on. Gretchen helped out Karen with hers since she was having some difficulty with her laces.

Once the laces were tied, Gretchen stood and kissed Karen's cheek. By this point you were already out on the ice with Regina, Regina showing off some twirls while you cheered her on. Who knew Regina had a hidden talent for ice skating?

Gretchen and Karen soon joined you guys on the ice, Karen recorded Gretchen for tiktok while Gretchen did some of her own twirls and such. You had begun exploring the iced lake, skating further away from the group.

You went a good distance away. Your gaze going to all the colourful lights in the sky, completely distracting you from your surroundings. You don't notice that you're skating over a thinner spot even as the ice cracks beneath you.

Regina had started following behind you, her body tensing when she heard the ice crack.

"Y/N!" She yelled, pulling your attention from the lights and towards her. You stared at her in confusion and were about to ask 'what' when you suddenly dropped. A scream leaving your mouth.

You fell through the ice, desperately grasping for anything to hold. The freezing water touching your body like sharp knives. Your eyes began to close when you felt someone grasp your hand and pull you out.

Regina pulled you out of the water, her arm draping around your shoulders and holding you tight to her side as she helped you stand.

The next half an hour went by in a whirlwind of panic, Gretchen freaking out the most. Karen helping Gretchen through multiple panic attacks. Regina was the most calm, she internalized it all so there was at least someone stable enough to help you. As for you, you barely had any idea what was going on. The cold was making you go in and out of consciousness, you could barely feel any of your body. Did you still even have a body??

When they finally get you to the cottage, Gretchen gets the fireplace going. Adding in some logs then lighting it using some old scrap paper. Regina brings you over to the fireplace, taking a seat on the sofa and pulling you in her lap to keep you warm. Your whole body shook, lips were purple.

Karen frowned at the sight but then suddenly smiled as she got an idea," I'm gonna go make a hot chocolate and start a warm bath!" She says happily, Gretchen turns her head in Karen's direction then glances at Regina.

"I'll go keep an eye on Karen, you okay here?" Gretchen asked, Regina nodded and made a shoo gesture before her hand came and rested on you. Her hands trailed along your trembling body as a feeble attempt to keep you warm while Karen prepped hot chocolate and a bath with Gretchen's help.

You had curled yourself into a ball in Regina's lap, head rested just below her chest as you hugged your knees. You kept you eyes closed; barely able to focus on anything around you. You knew Regina's hands were moving along your body, but you could barely feel anything.

Regina looked down at you and gave your cheek a gentle tap," You still with me?" She asked, having noticed your eyes were closed which made her panic just a little. You made a small grumble in response and your eyes opened slightly to look at her. She was more relieved than she would ever admit," just keep your eyes open, baby. Can you do that?" Her voice was uncharacteristically soft, but then again. Somehow she always had a soft spot for you.

You nodded slowly, not really wanting to keep your eyes open. But you did as Regina asked, you always did.

Karen comes over with the hot chocolate, decorated with whip cream, various sprinkles on top and a swirly straw. She handed you the cup but you weren't able to grasp it, so Regina took it from Karen's hands and held it up to your mouth for you. You took a sip with the help of the straw.

"That's it, good girl." Regina whispered in your ear, a light smirk on her lips. She knew exactly what she was doing. She looked at Karen who was there smiling at them," Is the bath ready?"

"Yep! Gretchen's got it going!" Karen replied.

Regina looked down at you, seeing the soft redness on your cheeks. She couldn't tell if it was because of how cold you were or if it was from what she had said before. Her hand rested on your hip, gently grazing it with her thumb. The feeling made you shiver more than you already were.

"Think you can stand for me?" Regina asked, you looked at her and gently shook your head. Still sipping hot chocolate.

She frowned at that and handed Karen the cup, you pouted a little as your hot chocolate was stolen. "Hold onto that." Regina stated, then stood with you in her arms. She carried you up stairs, Karen following behind with the hot chocolate. She tried taking a sip of some, but the straw went to her nose instead and made her flinch. She did get it to her mouth though after another attempt. Karen doesn't have the best luck with straws.

Regina got you into the bathroom where Gretchen was pacing as she waited. She stopped and looked at you, frowning when she saw you were still shivering.

"I googled best ways to help hypothermia and you're not supposed to put too much heat on them at once, so I made sure the water wasn't too hot or too warm." Gretchen rambled out, Regina didn't respond. She was more focused on you as she started removing your clothing.

Once she had you undressed, she placed you in the tub with Gretchen's help.

"Stay with her. I'm getting her warmer clothes." With that, Regina headed to their shared room at the cottage and started digging through the dresser for anything that looked warm while Gretchen kept an eye on you in the bath.

After all that was done, you were starting to feel better. A little more present at least and less trembly. Regina came back with fresh clothes. The two helped get you out of the tub while Karen was off getting your comfort movie set up in the bedroom.

Gretchen got you dressed and then her and Regina helped you into the bedroom where Karen was waiting. She pressed play on the movie and the four of you laid in bed in a cuddle pile, you in the middle as your girls surrounded you. You made a soft sigh.

"I'm okay now.." You mumbled, Gretchen and Regina looked a little surprised when you talked considering you haven't said a word since before all this happened. Gretchen seemed to finally relax a bit. (Karen's too focused on the movie.)

"You sure?" Gretchen asked, hand coming to rest on your cheek. You leaned into her touch and nodded. You weren't perfect, but you were better.

"Thank you. All of you."

#x reader #fanfic #canon x reader #fem reader #wlw fiction #mean girls x reader #mean girls #regina george #regina george x fem!reader #gretchen x reader #karen x reader #karen x gretchen #regina x karen #regina x gretchen #gretchen wieners #karen shetty

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hellishjoel · 11 months

Text

ride

7.2k // pairing:dbf/neighbor!joel x f!reader Series Masterlist l Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

summary: Joel whisks you away to Houston for the weekend under the guise of a work trip. You keep a secret from him to try and keep your fling undetected from your parents. warnings: MA 18+ (minors DNI), no outbreak, dbf/neighbor!joel, smut, swearing, age gap (reader is in her early 20s, Joel in his 40s), pet names, fingering, oral (f! receiving), unprotected p in v (shower sex hehe), a little overstim if you squint

A/N: sorry not sorry this chapter took a month+, but I hope you like it! A little drammaaaa. and a reminder, they still have all day saturday and sunday together ;)

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You gulp. “Joel-”, it’s almost in a warning tone. “I don’t- fuck, it feels-” “Uh-huh,” Joel murmurs against your core, nodding gently, grazing his nose against your clit in the process before his warm mouth tightens around your clit. And he suckles. You cry out, walls clenching around his fingers as he milks an orgasm from you. You damn near crumble, but he tightens the hold on your hip to keep you afloat. “There ya go, princess, come on my fingers,”

June 23rd 7:48 P.M.

I’ve had some time to think about Joel, and how much I like to think about him, and how things aren’t an accident.

Thinking about how unlikely it is that we sparked.

How Joel could have turned left, and I could have turned right. But we didn’t.

Instead of running away, I said yes, and so did he.

The impossibility of us seems so incredible, almost unbelievable.

I love that so many things had to happen for us to be where we are right now.

I saw the sun melt his eyes into amber, and he liked the way I smiled in the moonlight.

This feeling was radical, unnerving, scary.

I didn’t know why it was called falling or crashing into love. Perhaps I do now.

“You could sit there and read all day, huh?” Joel interrupts your thoughts as he starts to guide his truck off the freeway, passing a large aluminum Welcome to Houston! sign lit up by the truck’s headlights.

Butterflies flutter in your stomach, cheeks squished from smiling as his hand settles on your upper thigh, thumb drawing lazy circles on your sweet skin.

“I’m not reading anymore. Got too dark.” He’s referring to the novel you brought for the trip from your to-be-read pile that you started when you first got on the road.

The drive from Austin to Houston was two-and-a-half hours long, so you decided to saddle the passenger seat with different activities and snacks to keep yourself busy and out of Joel’s hair, much to his behest. He said he enjoyed letting you ramble on about whatever you were thinking about; said it was like listening to a podcast.

“But I am writing.” You hum quietly, penning in your last thought before it gets lost in the black of night.

“What’cha writin’, then?” Joel's curious eyes wander to the nest you had made for yourself in the passenger seat as he tilts his chin up to try and read beyond your journal cover.

You snap it closed and slip the pen in somewhere between the pages. “Keep your eyes on the road, old man.” Your tone is teasing, making you grin even more as he grumbles in annoyance under his breath as the truck slowly approaches a stop light.

Once off the freeway and down to the local roads, you roll the window down. You watch the moon start to rise in the sky, feeling goosebumps grow on your arms and exposed legs while the wind lazily flows through your hair. The gentle night breeze is welcome to air out Joel’s stuffy truck.

You were supposed to be his navigator once he got off the freeway, but you were a bit preoccupied looking around yourself.

You and Joel left Friday evening as soon as he was done with work, and now you were lightly coasting the streets of Houston as the sun finished setting. You could see the diverse architecture of downtown, the skyline of skyscrapers and high-rises were all crowded together. As you moved further into midtown, Joel drove past small businesses and parks. You let your hand float out the window, surfing the wind like a wave.

“Hey, space cadet, if you’re not gonna give me the directions to the motel, the least you can do is toss me a french fry.”

Your head cocks back to him, curiously smiling as you reach your hand aimlessly into the fast food bag, retrieving a fry and bringing it up to his lips. You settled on McDonald’s before you left Danbury, partially because Joel felt like being a little cheap, and you agreed they had the best, saltiest french fries.

You feed it to him, and he teasingly sucks the salt off your fingers.

“Gross, Joel.”

He sneers as he watches you wipe your hands on your thighs to rid yourself of his saliva. “You like it.”

He’s not wrong. You force yourself to look back out the window again to hide the heat creeping up the back of your neck.

Joel smirks and squeezes your thigh to bring you back to him. When you look over to the handsome man donning his usual green flannel, the wind furles your hair in messy, unkempt streaks.

He hesitates for a moment, but now that you’re no longer preoccupied with reading or writing, he holds your hand. You feel him test the waters, settling for just lightly clasping it in your lap, but it’s not enough for him. His thick fingers and calloused hand meets the heart of your palm as his fingers weave with your own. He lets out a little sigh and settles himself there.

You feel like teasing him. You’re afraid to hold my hand but not to fuck my throat in your woodshed with a party right outside? But then you remember how difficult it was to kiss him. It still felt like a slip-up, you had to admit. Especially if this was supposed to be just a casual relationship. It felt intimate and emotionally charged. But it was just kissing, right? And this was just holding hands.

Your thoughts wrestle around your head a bit. Joel feels it. You’re not sure how he always seems to know what you’re thinking, but he does. His thumb strokes a gentle line up and down the muscle of your thumb, a silent way of saying stop thinking for once. It’s appreciated, the sense of care and thoughtfulness he provided without even speaking a word.

Ever since he took you to that bar, Past Lives, all you could think about was Joel. Joel on repeat. Joel taking you away from the distracted environment of the lakehouse. Joel showing you the map, saying there was more to the world than Texas. Joel kissing you. Joel touching you. Joel fucking you. Joel protecting you. Joel saving you.

As much as you’ve had time to reflect on Joel, you’ve also reflected on your parents. They were hardly bad people, but they didn’t respect your adult choices. You came to tearfully realize that your relationship with them had slowly deteriorated since leaving for university. You grew independent, and that was especially hard for them. Something you had trouble understanding, something Joel didn’t understand either.

You called Joel Thursday night before your trip under the guise of asking if you should pack any specifics, but the conversation ended up landing on his relationship and parenting with Sarah. You told him how you appreciated the way he let Sarah grow and experience things, that it was good for her.

“She’s a tough girl, and I trust’er. Nothin’ much left to say.”

“So, what-” you stumble and scoff over the phone. “My parents don’t trust me? Or think I’m not tough enough to tackle the world?”

“S’not what I’m sayin’, darlin’. I don’t know what’s up with your folks. But you don’t need their approval, you’re an adult. All you need is t’… t’ trust yourself. Sounds fuckin’ cheesy, but it’s true.”

You pause, twisting a strand of hair around your finger as your eyebrows furrow, thinking over his words. “Y’think if I act a little more confident about it, they’ll start believing it too?”

Joel’s chuckle is a little crackle-ey on the line as he wanders around his house talking to you, going in and out of good reception. “Gotta start somewhere, buttercup. At the end of the day, it’s about your happiness, not theirs. Don’t gotta be such a people pleaser all the time.”

Yes, I do, you think.

“Thanks, Joel.”

“Sure thing, hon’.”

Dusk on the outskirts of Houston. The houses become few and far between. There’s more green grass and flourished trees. Joel slowly pulls into a small driveway, a large blue neon-lit sign designated that you were at your motel for the weekend. The entire truck is highlighted in a pale blue from the illumination, you nearly have to squint. There were no more than two or three cars parked outside. It was a two-level motel, with an outside staircase to navigate the different floors.

“The Blue Swallow Motel.” Your attention strays to Joel with furrowed brows. “Why here?”

Joel shrugs and navigates himself into a parking spot with ease. “Don’t know. Like blue swallows.”

Curiosity sparks you.

“You like blue swallows? You’ve seen one in person?”

He shakes his head and says nothing for a moment, but it almost looks like he can’t help himself to dispel some information. “They’re native to Africa, only ever seen the North American variants ‘round here.” He lets the engine grumble down once he pulls the key from the ignition, but you’re still awestruck in his passenger seat.

“I’m sorry- Joel Miller Bird Enthusiast?” The eager tone in your voice gives away your excitement, and Joel seems to despise it when you get too excited about him. He has to close his eyes and hang his head, wishing he never said anything.

“Oh, Joel Miller, don’t even try to deny it, I’ve seen those bird guides on your bookshelf, you’re a birder.”

His neck swivels, eyes wide and defensive. “I am not a birder.”

You throw your head back in laughter, and eventually, he cracks a smile. “They’re interestin’, okay?”

You playfully pat his shoulder with reassurance, nodding in agreement. The two of you settle down from your fits of laughter and look over the exterior of the motel once more.

“Y’said you wanted somethin’ quaint? Small?”

Being with Joel and having no other distractions was your goal for this weekend. Since this trip was coming out of Joel’s pocket, you insisted you didn’t need some fancy hotel. You’ve traveled to Houston a handful of times before, and the last thing you wanted was for your view outside some high-rise hotel to be Danbury in the distance.

You squeeze his hand once more and nod, stars lighting up behind your eyes. “It’s perfect. Thanks for finding something simple.”

Joel teeters on your appreciation but ultimately ends up shaking his head. “Could’ve gotten something a little nicer for ya, maybe closer to downtown-”

You stop him right there and bring his rough knuckles to your plush lips, adding a kiss to each one. “I said it’s perfect, so it’s perfect. I like it, it’s got charm, chutzpah even. Plus, looks like we’ll have the pool to ourselves.” You hum with a devious little smirk. You hop out of the truck and open the backdoor to grab your things.

“Pool, you say?” He retorts, an eyebrow raised with narrow eyes on you. You lightly shrug as you grab your backpack.

“Might have forgotten my swimsuit, though. Shame.”

You brush past Joel, who is scoffing lightly under his breath in disbelief, duffel bag brushing against his calves as he walks with you towards the motel office. You would be the death of this man.

“Damn shame.” He mutters, a smirk hanging low on his lips.

---

Room 135 was marked on the dark chestnut door, a small white plate with black numbering decked on.

There wasn’t much to be said about the motel room itself. You tried to stifle a laugh when you and Joel both walked in to see two separate queen beds. The sheets were white, but the top cover was an extravagant red pattern that looked like it got lost in the 80s. A side table was resting against the wall towards the headboards with a beige telephone placed on top, resting over a few local restaurant menus. Two small lamps were attached to the wall above the beds, perfectly opposite of the television sat on top of a tall dresser.

“Is this your idea of a romantic getaway?” You teased as you walked further inside over the beige carpet. “Two beds don’t exactly scream romantic.” You set your backpack down on the foot of the bed furthest from the door and closest to the bathroom around the corner. You assume this bed will just be used to hold both of your luggage, not a person.

“No,” Joel said through a tight gruff as he strained to lift his bag of tools and luggage onto the edge of his own bed. “S’a work trip. Not a romantic getaway.”

Your smile falters as you purse your lips and fiddle with your hands behind your back.

“So, this really is a work trip?” You clarify, to which Joel looks at you a bit confused.

“Course it is.”

A light boil simmers through your chest. Maybe you will be sleeping in your own bed tonight. Joel could sense your flattened mood, and he quickly felt the need to sweep up the pieces of what he broke. He was bad with words, terrible really, but he tried to find the right ones for you.

“I said that wrong. It’s a work trip but,” he trails off and falters as he saddles his hands on his hips for a moment and sighs, your doe eyes looking up to his own. “But I brought you here to spend some real time with ya. Didn’t wanna,” he shrugs and rolls his eyes. A classic Joel Miller sign that he wants to say something a little personally emotional.

“What?” You probe him, a smile tickling your lips as you loop your hands to rest just above the ones on his hips. “You didn’t want to what, Joel?” You ask, setting your chin on his chest and looking up at him with a goofy grin.

He sighs and rolls his eyes again, having a hard time looking at you. “I didn’t wanna go on this trip alone. Didn’t want to leave you at home when I could bring ya with.”

Joel wasn’t a social man. In fact, if the world went to shit, you think he might really enjoy the solitude. But for him to admit that he would rather have you in his space than out of it, it’s quite endearing.

Now you’re the one who's hiding a blush. You settle your cheek against his chest and sigh, soaking in his scent and his warmth. Joel’s hand comes to rest on the side of your head, gently stroking your hair away from your face as the two of you relax into a gentle hug.

“Were you serious about that no bathin’ suit thing?” He asks after a moment of silence, causing you to roll your eyes and shove him a good distance away.

“As serious as a heart attack.” You sneer as you round the bed to the bathroom, needing desperately to relieve yourself after the drive. Of all colors, it’s a beautiful mint green. Incredibly retro, you think as you use the toilet and stare at the shower absentmindedly. You roll your phone around in your hands once you finish washing them, a lump rising in your throat.

Your mother’s words echoed in your ear.

“If it gets serious, we want to meet this young man.”

There was no young man. The young man your mother referred to was really Joel. Panic was spreading through your body just at the thought of trying to fix this situation. They figured out you were seeing someone, they just didn’t quite know who. A few heavy breaths labor out of you, anxiety nestling in your chest.

“You okay, buttercup? Been a minute.” Joel asks cautiously from the opposite side of the door, his knuckles offering a few polite knocks.

Your chest surges. You didn’t want him to know you’d slipped up, half-told your parents the truth. You didn’t want him to end things out of fear of them finding out. “Y-Yeah, I’m fine, Joel. Just.. gimme a minute.”

His feet don’t move on the other side of the door. He doesn’t want to leave you, feeling something slightly wrong.

“Really, Joel, just- checking out the facilities.” God.

He sighs before you hear him back off. “Alright. Lemme know f’you need anythin’.”

You need to act, or else this feeling will eat you alive. Finally, with some accurate cell service, you text the first person you think of. Nathan. Remember that childhood crush of yours? You hadn’t seen him in years, and with how gorgeous he was growing up, there was a scary feeling that you might be texting a man who had a girlfriend. But he was your only hope to cover up the mess you had made.

Growing up with Nathan and his parents being friends with your own always felt like a setup. Your mothers always cooed that you two just might end up marrying one another. At the time, you wished it was true, that all this exposure with him would lead to something romantic. But then you grew up, saw each other a little less over the summers, and grew apart. You still kept in contact via social media, but not often. You saw his life in pictures. One from a homecoming dance, a group picture of him and his friends, an action shot of him playing basketball, a high school graduation picture, and a similar one for college graduation. He was still alive somewhere out there, you just didn’t know him like you used to.

Nathan was always kind, goofy, very golden retriever-like. Summers spent apart created a rift, but he was your childhood best friend and crush once upon a time. If he was willing to help you out, you owed him big time. So you shoot him a text and cross your fingers that this is still his number. The last thing logged in your messages was a silly conversation about cheetahs versus jaguars. You were team cheetahs, obviously.

You felt a slight sense of relief once you came up with a plan. Talk to Nathan. See if he can act as your fake boyfriend for your parents. See if he doesn’t think you’re damn crazy for concealing your forty-something-year-old fuck buddy.

You’re not really sure how to reignite the conversation, it’s been so damn long. You stare at the blank screen before you craft the brilliant message:

A sigh leaves your parted, anxious lips, and you shove your phone away.

---

You really did bring a bathing suit, much to Joel’s eagerness for the rumor to be true. You change into it with your back turned to him. You feel his eyes boring holes into you, sending a small dash of goosebumps up your arms. “I’m going for a dip before bed.” You say as you fiddle with the strings of your bikini top, struggling for a moment before you feel a warm presence step in behind you and fuss away with the strings himself.

You hum softly as he fastens the strings, making a bow at your midback. Joel’s lips brush against your shoulder before they start sponging gentle kisses up your neck. The hair you tied up into a loose bun tickles his nose.

“Such’a pretty girl.” He hums against your skin, a soft shiver trickling up your spine, lips parting in pleasure. “Too bad you’re not a very good girl.” Joel murmured as his hands slipped lower, past your hips, past the curve of your ass, until he was cupping both cheeks in his large palms. You gasp at the sensation, feeling his fingers squeeze at your flesh. A moan escapes your lips, you just can’t help it. You love it when Joel is handsy for you, the needy one.

You swallow the lump in your throat and turn in his arms, eagerly kissing him as you cup his cheeks. He fights for control instantly, pulling you in at your hips so your back arches backward out of habit. You let your head dip back, eyes dipping closed as his lips trail down your neck, then between the valley of your breasts, all while his wiry beard creates scratches in his wake.

“Do you have swim trunks?” You ask breathily, shoving him lightly by the top of the head further down your body. He drops to his knees and continues to trail kisses down your stomach.

The question catches him off guard.

“Do I- what?” He asks breathily, looking up at you as he sponges kisses over your clothed center.

“If you don’t have swim trunks,” you try to continue, “you can’t go swimming with me.” You say with a teasing smirk, stepping around Joel, who was awestruck kneeling on the ground, his hands still in place where he was cupping the backs of your thighs before he slaps them down on his own to show annoyance.

He was probably thinking how you just up and disappeared when you were just standing in front of him a moment ago. Joel grumbles something, but you’re already out the door of the motel room.

---

The pool is glowing in its blue hue, lit by dim lights around the perimeter and the silver moon in the sky.

In a world so vast, you couldn’t help but feel a little lost in wanting to explore it.

You take a breath in through your nose and test the water with a dip of your toe. A bit cold for your liking, but the warm Texas summers make your skin sticky and the air a bit stale. So you dive in.

The cool water is a shock to your system at first, with goosebumps growing on your skin like wildfire. Your face breaks the seal of the water, emerging over the light ripples you created upon diving in, catching your breath. You take a few leisurely laps along the outskirts, feeling weightless, free.

“Nice night.” Joel’s brassy voice breaks the gentle chorus of the summer cicadas. You hum as you carve your way through the water until you meet the pool’s edge. You rest your arms on the lip of the pool, bringing your breasts just above the surface of the water.

“Get. In.” You say with an authoritative voice, despite your eager smile.

He cocks his head a few degrees to the right, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “No. You look like a shivering chihuahua.”

His joke elicits a giggle from you.

“It’s only cold for the first few minutes. You’ll warm up.” You’re only half-lying, the pool was so fucking cold.

Joel merely shakes his head. “You’re crazy, buttercup.”

You hum as you push off the edge of the pool, moving towards the center, letting the water dance around you as your arms glide back and forth to keep you afloat.

“Sounds like you need some motivation.” Your eyes lock on Joel’s as your fingers navigate to the back of your bikini strings, slowly pulling the tie loose, feeling the water aid you in floating the material off your upper half. The top strings around your neck are still tied, concealing the full reveal of your breasts.

Joel’s once secure face fizzled, eyes straying and lips parting. A soft sigh escapes his lips as he kneels down, pointer finger curling towards him impatiently. “Get over here.”

You shake your head disobediently. “Now.” His barking urgency makes you stifle a smirk.

“Joel Miller afraid of a little cold water.” You shrug and move your fingers to the strings tied behind your neck, slowly tugging loose the threads. The material falls limp into the water, floating in front of you free from your body.

Joel watches with impatience, the spill of your breasts making his cock twitch inside his swim trunks. The mesh material was forgiving, allowing him to swell at the sight of you. The cold water has your nipples taut, drawn into sweet peaks. You’re just out of his fucking reach, too far into the pool for him to grab you.

He grunts quietly, jaw tight as you slowly swim closer to him. You shiver at his glance alone.

“If you want me,” your voice drops innocently, doe eyes making their appearance to reel him in, “you’ll get in the pool, Mr. Miller.”

Just out of his reach once more, you swim back to the center and push your thumbs into the band of your bikini bottoms, down your legs, leaving you bare in the pool for anyone to see from the highway or their own motel rooms. You must admit, Joel’s desperate gaze filled with want makes you squirm with excitement. Disobeying him lights that explosive even more.

He offers you his hand, one final offer. “Last chance, angel, get out of the pool.”

“Why do you even have swim trunks on if you aren’t going to get in?” You ask, eyes gazing over the tangled hair he has scattered across his chest.

“I was hoping these would appease you alone. Now come here,” he juts his hand out as an offering one last time.

You roll your eyes and swim closer, your breasts lapping in the water as you take Joel’s hand. And tug with all your strength.

His feet skid to try and hold him back, but he ultimately summersaults into the pool. You cover your mouth with your hand, unable to conceal your laughs as Joel emerges, sopping wet, cold, angry.

“Y-You-” He chatters his teeth, eyes screwed tight on you as he pushes his hand back through his soaked curls and down his face, grazing his wiry beard. “You’re gonna get it.”

Joel’s threat makes you squeal. You attempt to doggy paddle away, but the grip he catches on your arm is iron. He pulls you back to him, and your body glides through the water, arms securing on his biceps once you’re locked in his hold. He’s threatening, but not as much so when you wrap your legs around his waist and feel his half-hard length.

You raise your eyebrow at him, and he half-chuckles.

“Such a fuckin’ piece of work you are.” He grunts out, hands searing the flesh of your hips as he skirts his hand down lower, cupping the globes of your ass.

A hum tickles your throat as you lean in and press your lips to his jawline in a tempting kiss, smiling as Joel’s nose playfully nudges yours, leaning in for more.

It’s stomach-twisting how you feel so comfortable with Joel, how you sink into his body, and how he warms your core. You kiss him until your lips feel bruised, and he grips your beautiful curves with eagerness. The two of you kiss like hungry teenagers, finally outside the watchful eyeline of your parents. Joel’s cock is hardening against your naked core.

He forces himself off of you, groaning lightly as he strays from your eyes. Cupping his jawline, you angle him back to you, resting your foreheads together.

“Makin’ me get all riled up like a damn teenager.” His warm breath puffs across your face, his words make your bundle of nerves tingle.

“I like that I’m the one causing it.”

Joel chews at the inside of his cheek before giving you a tight little nod. “Me too, buttercup.”

---

Joel decides pool play is over. He gets out first, snags your bikini pieces that floated to the edge of the pool and starts walking leisurely back into the motel room.

He only hears your cursing and belligerent rambling after he returns from turning on the shower, piping hot.

“Can’t hear ya when you’re chatterin’ your teeth.”

Joel returns to the bathroom and strips his swim trunks off, still half-hard. He tests the water with his hand, giving you an affirming nod it was okay to step in.

You’re still angry and seething, having to streak your way back to the room naked and freezing your bare ass off. He looks at your crossed arms and playfully tuts. “You’re the one that thought t’drag me in there with ya, princess.”

Joel follows you into the shower, the water splashing searing hot droplets. It only feels that hot because you’re readjusting from the pool’s temperature. You find yourself huddling into Joel’s warmth.

He finds it endearing, the way your head settles on his chest, your ear to his heart, too chilled to let him go. He angles the showerhead downwards, letting it focus on your body first. He could wait.

You gently release your crossed arms, letting them wrap low around his hips. He had a few extra pounds of flesh low on his tummy and on the sides of his waist. You gently pinch the area and smile.

“Stop that.” He hisses, eyebrows knitted together.

“But I like it. You’re my favorite person to hug.”

The sentiment splashed warmth on the back of his neck. Joel has picked up a few extra pounds from town barbeques, and beers tossed back during football games. He used to not like it, the way he had to loosen his belt after a big meal, or having to purchase his new t-shirts in a size up. He didn’t think about it much, but naked with you in the shower, feeling you admire his ever-changing body, was a comfort.

You look up after a few moments of silence, setting your chin on his chest and feeling his chest hair graze against your skin.

Joel wants to warm you up, get you to relax under the showerhead. He presses a nimble kiss to your lips, pitter-pattering kisses along the extent of your body before he is down on his knees, angling your back to rest against the shower wall.

Tired after your car ride and melting under the shower’s sprinkling water, you ache for a relief that will come from your head hitting a pillow. But Joel had other things in mind, things that would make you forget you were tired in an instant.

Now under his watchful eye, lips and wiry beard scratching at your soft skin, you lightly part your legs for his entrance. God, please don’t let me slip and embarrass myself right now. Let me have this one good thing, this man’s tongue against my pussy would make me a God-willing woman.

Joel can feel your exhausted body, begging to find a bed. But he had you where he wanted you, and his mouth was watering to taste your sweet musky arousal. His hands settle themselves on the backs of your thighs, supporting your weight as his head leans into your warmth.

He brings two fingers forward, parting your center, licking a slow draw up your core. His tongue flicks off your clit, your bundle of nerves twitches. Something flips in his stomach, and his cock grows heavy against his thigh.

You taste sweet and serene, something he’s grown an appetite for. With several days apart awaiting your weekend trip away, he often found himself at night, spilling into his hand thinking about your young, beautiful pussy flushed against his mouth. He takes this opportunity to relish in you moaning his name, without any curious ears.

His tongue sinks lower, swirling around your tense entrance. The swell of his tongue gushes more arousal from you, and he gets a proper taste that isn’t mixed with water from the shower.

Joel’s grip on your thigh tightens, and he laps at your clit like a famished man.

The constant flicks have you gasping for air in the all-too-warm shower. Your fingers weave into his soaking wet curls, still finding a grip as your thigh twitches against his hand.

Joel’s two fingers parting your center gently massage at your entrance, wiggling in gently as he suckles on your clit, and you mewl weakly.

His tongue and teeth lightly graze your sensitivity, feeling stars clouding your vision as his fingers set a gentle pace.

“Ooh,” you sigh weakly, feeling his fingers hit the perfect spot, one that makes you shake.

Joel knows that sound, knows the feeling. He looks up, admires the way your pretty lips are parted in bliss. The hand on your thigh is brought to your stomach, gently stroking over the flesh.

You watch him a little curiously, a little fucked. His mouth returns to your clit, but his hand still falters on your lower abdomen. You whimper as he adds a little pressure, and quickens his fingers. It’s jaw-dropping, the friction and pressure, piling on top of each other.

You gulp. “Joel-”, it’s almost in a warning tone. “I don’t- fuck, it feels-”

“Uh-huh,” Joel murmurs against your core, nodding gently, grazing his nose against your clit in the process before his warm mouth tightens around your clit. And he suckles.

You cry out, walls clenching around his fingers as he milks an orgasm from you. You damn near crumble, but he tightens the hold on your hip to keep you afloat.

“There ya go, princess, come on my fingers,” he grunts, jaw tight, and teeth clenched as he watches your cum-arousal mixture glide down his fingers in a sticky mess. He slowly stands, watching you pant for air, as he sucks his digits clean with an evil smirk.

The temperature in here is too much, heat consumes your body as you weakly grip his biceps.

“God damn, Mr. Miller.” You say breathlessly. You take him in a quick kiss, moaning weakly into his mouth at your taste. His tongue tangles with you, and he keeps his fingers on your core. His first two fingers start to slowly circle your clit again, but it’s entirely too soon.

You whimper weakly into his mouth, your clit aching and still recovering from your oral orgasm.

“Mmm- can’t do it, Joel.”

Joel snarls as he swiftly turns you around, his foot hitting the insides of both of your ankles to spread your legs. Your face is plastered against the shower wall, watching him out of the corner of your eye with your jaw dropped.

“Be good for me, baby girl, show how thankful you are.”

You whine at his raspy voice, feeling its timbre bounce against the walls.

“Please,” you beg in a whisper, inching your feet farther apart for him to take you in the shower.

Joel strokes his cock, seething through his teeth at the desperate relief he’s feeling. His swollen tip vies for your attention. He lines himself up, his other hand on your hip as he notches himself inside.

You visibly flinch away, Joel hushing you softly as he tries again.

“Gotta relax for me, pretty girl.”

You sigh weakly and let yourself melt with the warm water, fluttering your eyes closed as you gently jut your hips back into this, needing to be filled.

Joel tries again after lining his tip up and down your slit and gathering your arousal. He notches inside of you once more, causing your eyelashes to flutter. He slowly presses on.

The drinks must have really loosened you up since the last time the two of you fooled around in his truck. He wasn’t so hard to take then, but now he feels thicker, rounder. You could feel the thick vein on the underside of his cock as he ruts his hips into your ass.

Finally, you will yourself to breathe, moaning his name in desperation.

Joel’s trying to contract his lungs, but you’re gripping onto him so tight, the heat of the shower going to his head.

You hum and purposely grip your walls around him, squeezing for his last breath.

Joel snarls and smacks your ass from below, watching the fatty flesh jiggle. It stings, but you like it, thinking about his large handprint marking you red. He winds his hips back up and presses in, groaning lowly as he fills you to the brim.

He sets a decent pace, one that robs you of what air you have left in your lungs. Your entire body feels sensitive, your cheek growing sore from being fucked against the shower wall. But it feels entirely too good, a certain itch that only Joel Miller can scratch.

Every thrust he makes, you moan his name like a broken record. “Joel, Joel, Joel,” you moan and grunt it so much, that it starts to sound like it’s not a real word anymore.

You reach back an arm blindly, gripping his bicep and stitching your nails into his skin.

Joel grunts out weakly, the burning sensation you caused on his arm making him go wild. He reaches for both of your wrists and plants them at the base of your back, forcing your face to be your only weight to keep you up against the shower.

But it unlocks a new angle, one that has you crying out curses and his heavenly name.

“Fuck me, Joel, fuck- fuck your favorite little pussy,” you mewl out, feeling his cock twitch inside you.

“God dammit, fuck me good like that, like that,” your eyes clench close, panting heavily. “Right there, daddy, please, Mr. Miller, touch my clit, please,” you beg, the pet name rolling off your tongue.

It makes him snarl. He sets a hellish pace. His chest puffs up, his broad biceps locking around you as his fingers stroke over your pussy.

He loves the way you wind him up. Because you are his favorite young pussy, one he’s made his own, railing you so good that you forget about anyone else that may have had you before.

All you know is Joel Miller.

His thighs and lower tummy smack your ass cheeks, a distinct slapping sound filling the shower and pinging off the walls right back into your ears.

Stars flutter behind your eyes, you feel light-headed. The water splashes warm across your back, allowing Joel even more slip.

The harder he fucks you, the closer he moves in. Now he has his entire torso flushed against your back, flicking his hips up into you with precision.

Suddenly he’s grabbing your leg by the underside of your knee, hiking it up, and planting it against the shower wall as he exposes a whole new sensation.

You can’t last any longer. His fingers circle dangerously around your clit, and now he’s pounding you into the wall, forcing friction against his glorious thrusts. You whimper loudly as his tip kisses your cervix repeatedly, feeling your walls clench around him as you come.

It’s jaw-dropping, heart-surging, mind-fucking how good he feels coming inside of you. It’s warm, warmer than the water still raining over you. It’s comforting the way his seed spreads throughout your core, his grunts filling the shower as he drops his last load inside of you.

And goddamn, he loves how you milk him dry.

You weakly slide down the wall, tiredly dropping your leg once he pulls out.

“No ya’don’t.” Joel quickly says, snagging a strong arm around your waist and hauling you up. You whimper as he peels your face off the wall, blinking rapidly as he spins you to face him. “C’mere.” Joel embraces you, and you lean weakly into his front like a bear hug.

“Water,” you whisper against his pec. He turns the shower temperature down, a more comforting heat surrounding you now.

“You’re alright.” He assures.

After time to recuperate, Joel reaches for the shampoo bottle, squirting a small amount into his palm and lathering it between his hands. You feel a little better standing, but you still stay wrapped up in his arms, in his hug.

He massages the shampoo into your locks, gently massaging it against your scalp, before he gently washes the bubbles out. He gathers conditioner next, letting it soak into your ends.

You hide your smile against his chest, knowing that he probably had to learn this type of stuff for Sarah. Hair care, skin care, tampons and pads, all the sort of stuff single dads fear. You wonder whatever could have been in Sarah’s mother’s mind to leave a guy like Joel Miller. Sure, he wasn’t perfect, but he seemed to fit into your life like a glove right now. For however long that perfect fit would be.

A weak sigh leaves your lips as he strokes your head sweetly, his fingers then grazing your cheek.

“Y’alright? Feel good?”

You nod weakly and smile, letting your arms drop gently as you pull away. “M’tired.”

Joel stifles a chuckle and nods. “Me too, baby. Sit tight.”

Once Joel is assured you’re not going to lose your strength standing up on your own, he shuts off the water and steps out of the shower, wrapping his towel low on his waist. You gaze at the lines around his hips, and how they dip down into his towel.

You clear your throat as you quickly look away once he approaches you with two towels. He wraps one around your shoulders, gently moving his warm hands up and down the sides of your arms.

You look so sweet, warm and cozy, cum-filled, at ease. The stress he usually sees you carrying around is wiped away. He hoped he had something to do with it.

Joel leans down and presses a light kiss to your lips. Not hungry, not desperate, not chasing. Delicate. Assuring.

You smile tiredly and shyly evade his eye contact, something that he hates to admit is goddamn adorable on you.

Both of you towel dry off any remaining droplets of water. Joel forces you to show him how you even get the towel you wrap around your hair on your head.

“This is girlhood, Joel Miller.” You say once you secure it on, watching him shake his head in disbelief.

“A mystery to me.” He says with a boyish grin.

You both exit the steamy bathroom and search your bags for pajamas. You packed a few comfy shirts for bed. And only one extra pair of panties. You better be damn careful with your one last sacred pair. You toss it back into your pack for now, deciding that they would probably be taken off in the morning anyway. You slip under the covers of Joel’s bed, saving him a space you hope he fills. Of course, he does.

Joel flips off the light switch, indulging the room in a black and blue hue. He grunts quietly as he slips into the covers. The both of you just melt into the mattress.

You nuzzle into his side, and he wraps an arm around your shoulders. He makes gentle circles into your back as your phone buzzes on the nightstand. You sigh and turn your back to Joel to retrieve it from the charger.

“Your parents askin’ if we made it okay?” Joel murmurs tiredly, eyes closed, waiting for you to return to his side.

Your breath catches in your throat. It’s a text message from Nathan.

Hey stranger

“Yeah,” you lie, your fingers gliding across the keyboard to configure a response. “They uh.. They’re tellin’ me to not bug you too much on the trip.” You awkwardly chuckle, your back still turned to him as you stare at Nathan’s message.

Joel dryly chuckles as he reaches a hand out and settles it on your hip. “Quite the opposite.”

You feel terrible concealing this from Joel. But you don’t want him to think you were young and foolish letting your secret fling slip. This was to make things work, to keep the secret buried from your parents.

Another message from Nathan makes your phone buzz in your hand.

Heard you’re in Danbury for the summer with your folks. Wanna catch up?

Your heart sits in your throat, shocked by his ask.

You flip over your phone, opting to reply in the morning. You’re beat. You sigh weakly and return to Joel’s side, hiding your face in his shoulder as you gently kiss along the muscle. He was already passed out.

As messy as this felt, being with Joel felt like being tossed a life jacket in open water. And you weren’t going to lose that safety, not if you could help it.

---

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after-witch · 11 months

Text

Horrorfest: Party Time [Yandere Mahito x Reader]

Title: Party Time [Yandere Mahito x Reader]

Synopsis: Mahito just wants you to have a nice Halloween.

For Horrorfest request: Mahito putting his darling through a House of Horrors.

Word count: 2823

notes: yandere, kidnapped reader, body horror and gore, Mahito is his own warning here

Maybe it said something about your inherent ghoulishness that, when Mahito granted you the rare favor of allowing you to pick an activity to do outside the damp tunnel where he kept you, you chose this--going to a haunted house.

A cheap one, too. One of those kinds that was retrofitted into an existing building during October and then packed out like a cheap weekend carnival on November 1st. The kind that ignored safety violations and tended to hire teenagers who showed up high or drunk or both.

It was more cheesy than anything else. A series of dimmed rooms with strobe lights and spiderwebs, or people jumping out in mediocre costumes or revving up fake chainsaws. No, it wasn’t really scary… but to be fair, your definition of “really scary” had been completely upended the moment that you were kidnapped by a curse with a penchant for torturing people in ways you never thought possible before.

But it was still a tradition, damn it, and if you couldn’t get through October without at least one Halloween tradition under your belt, you might just lose your mind. Or what was left of it, considering your circumstances.

Still, did Mahito have to be a spoilsport about it? He’d been grinning at the start, one arm slung around your shoulder, even though no one else could see him. By the time you’d gotten to the third room, he was pouting. Complaining. Whining.

And now, at the end, as you walk out following one last jump scare involving an oversized doll costume, he’s rambling on and on about how these humans were terribly uncreative in their creation of a supposedly haunted house. Like you were just walking through the park and not a poorly lit room blasting spooky ambiance music as some tired teens tried to make you shriek.

“I know humans are capable of better than this,” he muses, sourly, as you make your way out of the parking lot and back onto the side streets that will eventually lead you “home.” Not your home, never your home. But the only home you’ve known since he took you, and it’s better to consider it something familiar than to fully face the reality of your situation without a gloss of comfort.

“It wasn’t that bad,” you say, lightly, blandly. “I think you’re being too harsh.”

Mahito sighs, and pulls you closer. To anyone on the street without the gift of sight, you might look a bit drunk. Stumbling now and then, leaning into nothing at all. Mahito likes this, you think, and that’s why he does it all the time on the very rare occasions that you’re allowed out.

“But I’m not wrong!” You glance at him. The almost childish expression of disappointment is stomach-turning. “You didn’t even flinch or scream or anything fun. You weren’t scared.”

You start to answer, then stop. He’s right. A year ago you probably would have shrieked yourself silly, as simple and ridiculous as the haunted house was; but that was a year ago. That was before.

“I’m… not scared of much any more.” Your words come out slow and carefully considered. It’s a habit ingrained in you by now. Mahito did love to take your words and run with them.

“Oh?” Mahito turns his head to look at you, and you catch the last moment of a grin that he pastes over with a solemn expression as soon as he sees you looking.

“Poor thing,” is all he says.

You don’t talk much on your way home after that.

“Mahito--”

“I promise, this will be fun!”

“Mahito--”

“Don’t worry so much, you’ll get wrinkles! Not that I’d mind, but I read this book from the 1980s on beauty perception and--”

“Mahito!”

Mahito pouts, puffing his cheeks out ridiculously. When he doesn’t say anything, you sit up straighter.

“I’m just saying this isn’t necessary.” You keep your tone gentle, sweet. You don’t want him to accuse you of being ungrateful again. The last time he did that--the less said, the better. “I already got my Halloween fix at the haunted house, really. And we watched a horror movie the other day, didn’t we? And you got me a book…”

Your hand gestures ineffectually towards your nest of blankets, where a battered copy of Stephen King’s Pet Sematary lay. Mahito found it in a box of books someone threw on the curb and proudly brought it to you, like a cat bringing a dead sparrow to its owner.

Mahito’s expression turns sticky, and his voice coos to match. “Ohh, you’re being so sweet, pet! But I want to do this for you. Since you like Halloween!” He resumes setting out a small collection of large bowls, most with mismatched lids, humming a song you don’t know all the while. “I worked really hard on this, you know!”

“I…” You start to protest, but it doesn’t get far. There was never any use arguing with Mahito or even reasoning with him on most things. Curses did not have the same reason as human beings. That much you knew by now.

So you sit obediently on the ground in front of the beat-up coffee table he dragged in here not so long ago--for this very purpose, maybe?--and try to calm the writhing ball in your stomach.

“Where did you get this idea, anyway?” You ask. Your voice shakes a little, from the cold or worry, you don’t know.

Mahito hums, setting down what must be the last bowl and surveying his work. “I read it in a magazine of Halloween party ideas! Some of them look pretty fun. Bobbing for apples…” He looks up at you with an almost hungry smile. “Your hands have to be tied behind your back for that one. Humans sure get kinky on Halloween, don’t they?”

Your cheeks heat up horribly but you don’t answer. It’s smarter not to indulge Mahito in any questions related remotely to sex.

The line of bowls on the table looks like something out of a sad potluck. You wonder why he picked this idea, or anything in a book about Halloween parties.

You recognized the idea at once. It was one of those old fashioned party games where the host put food in bowls and told everyone it was something gross, like brains or eyeballs. You remember playing this game only once in your life as a child, and everyone thought it was dumb and boring even then.

Well, it was probably the easiest to do with only two of you; you’re grateful, anyway, that he decided not to go for apple bobbing, if what drew him to it was the rope.

“One final touch!” He practically skips over to you and holds out a ragged strip of black fabric. A blindfold.

Oh, no. Nope, nope and nope.

“Um, can’t we just turn off the lights?” There were a few flickering bulbs built into the walls--for service workers, you think, back when this tunnel was actually serviced--and Mahito kept a few battery powered lanterns around that he threw out and replaced whenever the batteries died.

A pout. A shift on his legs, a hand on his hips.

“It’s more fun this way. Ugh, don’t be so boring…”

Ah, boring. The most dangerous word in Mahito’s vocabulary. And you aren’t being sarcastic when you think that, which is why you sigh and blow cool air out your mouth and nod at him.

He giggles, and scampers behind you with the blindfold in tow.

“This is going to be so fun,” he says, practically trilling as he ties the blindfold around your eyes. The darkness is quick and artificial and awful. “Have you played it before?”

You hum something like assent. “Just once, when I was little.”

Mahito presses a kiss to the top of your head and you fight the urge to squirm.

“If you don’t remember the rules, it’s like this: I put your hands in each bowl, and you tell me what you think it is!”

Your heart begins to speed up, no matter how much you try to tell yourself to remain calm. It was just a blindfold, no big deal. It was just a stupid Halloween party game, no big deal.

It was just Mahito… well, uh, wait a minute. It was Mahito. You were right to worry.

But you’re trying very, very hard not to--and that was as close as you’d get to remaining calm tonight.

You hear the sound of the various tops being pulled off the bowls, accompanied by little grunts and noises as Mahito perhaps struggled with the lids.

Someone takes your hands--you jump, and Mahito laughs--and guides them to the edge of the bowl.

Something squishy and a little stiff. Wet, but only vaguely. Round, like bouncy balls. But they feel more organic than that.

“Grapes,” you say. “They’re grapes.”

Mahito makes a choking sound. Did he not think you knew the tricks of the game? Maybe the first people to play the game decades and decades ago were caught unawares, but the answers were common knowledge by now. Grapes for eyeballs, spaghetti for intestines; some people got creative and made fake brains and stuff, too.

He pulls your hands out of the bowl and sets them on the next.

Your hands plunge in and find not quite what you expected, but close enough. Instead of strings of spaghetti noodles, Mahito has chosen sausages. You suppose that was more realistic when it came to feel and size, anyway. They weren’t cold exactly, but that was nothing new--there was no fridge around here.

“Sausages.” When he doesn’t respond. “Like, a whole row of them.”

Mahito huffs.

He’s such a spoilsport, you think. Maybe you ought to start guessing around to appease him. Or would he catch on that you were lying and get more annoyed at you treating him like glass? Or would that make him feel good? It was so, so hard to tell what you were meant to do sometimes.

But he does take your hands, now a little slimy with cooking water, and set them on the next bowl.

This one is… a little different from the rest, and you couldn’t quite place it. It was soft, smooth, but almost sponge-like in texture. Like a gummy or…

”Gelatin?” You’re not quite sure for this one, and it comes through in your tone. Still, your fingers squish the mystery item. “Like, an organ?” You remembered once cooking beef liver for your dad and it had the same gummy, gelatin-like feel before it was cooked. Unpleasant and odd to touch, for sure. You didn't know if it tasted good.

“Yes!” Mahito sighs out the word, and at least he’s no longer acting like a pouty child when you guess right. It makes the ball in your stomach shrink down, just a little. Even if you’re still waiting for something to happen. Maybe he’ll try to jump scare you at the end or something.

The next bowl is liquid, and you almost jerk your fingers back out by instinct. It couldn’t be water, it wasn’t thin enough. There is even a slight smell to it, almost artificial--red dye. Mahito would dye the fake blood red just to make it more authentic, wouldn’t he?

“A smoothie, maybe? Or whole milk, or cream…”

If Mahito cares that you didn’t give a singular answer, he doesn’t let you know. He only lets out a pouty whine and you wonder which of your three guesses was right.

“Last bowl,” he says, before placing your hands on the edge of the plastic container.

What in the world?

When you put your hands inside, your fingers are immediately met with a multitude of small, firm… somethings. Your fingers fiddle with one of them, feeling over the grooves. Wood, maybe? Figurines? You’re reminded, suddenly, of when cereal used to come with toys in the box. But you very much doubt Mahito collected a few dozen old cereal figurines.

“I’m not sure,” you admit. “Really big wood chips? Figurines?”

There’s a few moments of unusually heavy silence, and then Mahito whines. Whines!

“You’re awful at this game. You only guessed one of them right! I thought you’d be better at it, since you’re into this human holiday…”

Huh?

You scoff, though you’re not offended. Just confused. And tired. And wary. Nothing new there, when you think about it.

“What do you mean? The only one I wasn’t sure about was this last one… maybe the one before it, but it’s hard to tell the difference between milk and cream or whatever.”

You feel the presence of Mahito leaning over the table, feel his fingers fiddling with the back of your blindfold, and blink as the artificial blackness drops away to reveal Mahito sitting in front of you with a pouty look on his face.

And then you look down at the mystery bowl, your hands still resting inside, and bile immediately rises into your throat when you realize two hideous truths:

One. The bowl is filled with transfigured humans. Small distorted shapes of horror. A whole bowl of them, piled high, like a candy dish on granda’s counter.

Two. Your hands are red. Not just red, but red with slick, thick gore. Blood. There was no mistaking the feel of it. The second-to-last bowl is filled halfway with blood. Real blood. Human blood.

Your neck turns slowly, like you’re a broken, mechanical doll that can’t quite complete the movement. The acidic bile in your throat reaches your mouth and you swallow, swallow, swallow. But all you can do is cough and hope the real vomit stays down.

It shouldn’t surprise you, what you see. But somehow your stupid self thought he was playing a party game, a copycat out of one of his magazines.

The bowls are not filled with peeled grapes and sausages and blobs of gelatin.

The bowls are filled with eyeballs of all different colors, most of them still trailing red optic nerves like tails; with strings of intestines, thick and slimy and pale; with livers in varying shades of brown and red.

“Oh,” Mahito says, perking up, when he catches you looking at the bowl of livers. “I wanted to show you, look at this one!” He grabs one of the livers and holds it up for you to see. “He had some kind of disease, I think… see the funny lumps?”

You’re only aware that your body is shaking when your neck jerks and twinges in pain.

“What the fuck,” you mutter. “What the fuck.”

Mahito quirks his head. You hate that you know the confusion on his face is real. He really is curious about everything, all the time. Especially human thoughts and feelings and behaviors. A mad scientist if there ever was one; but at least a mad scientist had some sort of lofty, if fucked up, end goal. Mahito just was.

“What’s the matter?” He scoots on his butt around the table, not stopping until he’s sitting next to you. You don’t fight--you can’t--when he takes your hands and holds them. He doesn’t mind the gore being smeared on his own fingers, you’re sure.

You feel like your eyebrows would fly off your head if they could.

“What’s the matter? What’s the--you… you used real human body parts--real people--for this game. That’s what’s the matter! Christ--”

Mahito’s eyebrows furrow.

“But that’s the game! You put all sorts of creepy things in bowls and people guess what it is.” He squeezes your hands. “Are you sure you aren’t just a sore loser because you stink at guessing?”

How many people are in that bowl, anyway? The thought comes and goes; it would be like playing some fucked up game of “guess how many beans are in the jar!” Only there is no knick-knack prize if you guess right. Just a solid number to the bowl of horrors sitting only inches away from you.

How many were there, how old are they, do they have family, did it hurt, did they scream--

Your lips are dry when you lick them and speak, voice shell shocked and dull. “It’s a party game. You’re supposed to use things like, like--peeled grapes for eyeballs or spaghetti for intestines. It’s a dumb party game because it’s silly and no one is really freaked out by that if they’re older than 7 years old.”

The game isn’t meant to end with you realizing that you’d been feeling up the organs of murdered people, is what you should say. But you’re not sure Mahito would recognize that for the rebuke that it is.

“Ohh,” he says, and you can see it all clicking into place in his mind. After a few beats, he grins with pride. “Well, my version is an improvement.”

You must look incredulous again, because he continues. “See, my version is more fitting ” He nods to himself. “I’m much better at Halloween than humans.”

For once, you can’t disagree--not even in your own thoughts.

His version is really scarier than the original

#yandere mahito #mahito x reader #yandere jjk #yandere jujutsu kaisen #afterwitch writes #aw horrorfest #the original title was 'it's my halloween party and I'll cry if I want to' but it was too damn long

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m4nspr34d · 25 days

Text

BUT DADDY I LOVE HIM

Dean Winchester x M!reader

Warnings: Fluff, Angst, After sex, star crossed lovers.

Summary: Your relationship with Dean has been under wraps from the day you had met, struggling to come to terms with the fact you would be shun by your already displeased parents for sneaking around with a ‘Vigilante’ such as himself.

You fingers tapped at your computer, your headphones blasting the heavy bass of your music in your ears. It was another late night, your parents had turned in hours ago, all that was left for you to do was finish your essay and finally get to bed yourself.

The table shook as your phone vibrated, looking down to see Dean’s caller ID. Your music paused, your hands tipping your headphones onto your neck. “Hey, you.” His voice said over the phone, the distant sounds of cars passing over the phone. “Hey, you okay? It’s late, Dean.”

“Cant I call my boyfriend?” His voice said, that teasing town he always used, god. “Never said that. just— you never call at this time.” You said, chuckling as you took your headphones off, leaning back into the chair as the phone held close to your ear. “Yes I do!” He was defensive, you could just imagine the sour look on his face as he said it. “Not unless you’re up to something.” You added, amused to see where he was going with this.

“True.. look outside.” He said, bluntly, an almost defeated tone coating his voice. Your head fell back as a laugh escaped your lips, predictable. You stood up from your chair, walking to the window, not surprised to see Dean out in your front lawn, leaning against the lamppost, the phone held to his ear as he smirked. “Cute guy in my lawn, think you can give me five?” You teased as you leaned down onto the interior ledge, his scoff over the phone paring perfectly as his eyes fell to the ground for a moment, his head lifting again to look at you. “Need some company?” “Always.” You didn’t even have to think of the response, quick to hang up the phone, opening the window just enough for Dean to be able to lift it from outside.

You sat back into your bed, grinning to yourself as you waited, feeling like a teenager again, it had been a long time since Dean had to sneak in, only that your parents had caught on to what you were doing when you came back on the weekends, upping their security on you a bit. Your face lit up as you watched him appear in the window, a smirk on his face as he slowly opened it, carefully climbing inside and finding his footing. He was quick to step to you, you doing the same. His arms snaked around your waist, pulling you close to him, the smell of his cologne like a drug, the way he looked down at you with such compassion, such true and unequivocal love.

“I missed you.” He let his neck fall to you, nibbling at your ear playfully as you felt his lips pull into that damn smirk. “I missed you too.” You replied, your hands sliding up and down his arms. His head lifted once again to meet your eyes. “It’s my dad, you know how he is.. he just— he doesn’t want us to be a thing, he thinks you’ll corrupt me or something.” You said, a slight giggle passing as your hand reached to his head, your finger brushing through his short hair, your gaze moving between his beautiful; so, so beautiful— eyes, and the movement of his hair beneath the caressing of your fingertips. “Bit late now.” He said, his hand cupping your cheek, his thumb brushing beneath your eye.

you both started to giggle, your hands pressing against Dean’s mouth, your eyes widening as you desperately tried to suppress the laughter. His body pushed towards you. His hands pressed against your hips, firm but soft, setting you down onto the bed.

Your head rested against his bare chest, both of you at your most venerable, your hand lay adjacent to your face, your fingertips barely moving as you gave him any notion that he had every bit of your attention. “Y’know, we could just run away.” He broke the silence. You giggled at his remark, silly; but true. “You know I cant.” It wasn’t the first time he had entertained this silly fantasy, you two running away with Baby, living off diner food, motel after motel; much less glamorous than he seemed to think. “Yeah.. Yeah I do.” He said, looking down, pressing his lips into the side of your forehead.

“I have a life Dean, I have so much.. I cant throw it all away, I mean— Stanford? I worked so hard for it all, I can’t do that.. I just can’t.” Your voice was much softer than before, the playful banter only lasting for so long before the two of you had to bare the truth right in the eyes. “You could work at the shop, with me.” His head lifted from the side of yours, tilting to meet your gaze in his. “I know shit about cars.” “I’ll teach you.” It was tiring, you were both so different, such different backgrounds— yet, you both yearned for the one thing: eachother. A sigh tipped off your bottom lip, adjusting your head to ease the strain on him. “One year, then i’m outta here, we can settle down together, get a place, maybe a dog— or a fish, we’ll see how you clean up behind closed doors.” Your tone fell softer, a light chuckle hiding behind each word, but it didn’t take away from the clearly pained smile he flashed.

“I’d give it up for you— all of it, I don’t expect you to do it for me, you’ll be better than I am. I just don’t want you to outgrow me when you’re a big fancy guy in a penthouse.” “You know I wont.” “No, I don’t.” It hurt, truly it did, but that was how it worked. No matter how much you both lied to yourself, there was only so much of this sneaking around before it got tiresome, the closest thing to a date being sharing a few beers on your roof. “I don’t love you like the rest, you’re different, and I know I don’t have to be the one to say that for you to believe it.” Your attention peaked, propping yourself further up his chest, your cheek resting as you kept your jaw lifted to keep within his gaze. You hated having this conversation, sometimes you wish you could block out all the sad, the hurt, but, that’s just how it was. “I really do love you.” Those words meant everything to you, they always did, the way he said it at all the right times, it was never a one and done, it was a rare occasion, you knew he meant it— you knew he always did. “I know.. I know. I love you too.” Your fingers trailed up, passing his collarbones as you took the pendant of the necklace in between your fingers.

“Just let me talk to him, have lunch, i’ll sort it out, I swear.” His voice was so desperate, the way you could tell how bad he wanted this, how bad he needed it. “It’s better this way.” “Is it?” Silence, again. It was so hard balancing your own well-being with your family; your blood, and the man you genuinely saw yourself growing old with. “It doesn’t matter what we do, he won’t change his mind, I don’t want that to weigh on us.” Ignorance was bliss, whatever you didn’t know, couldn’t hurt you. a a kiss pressed against your forehead, his hand firm against your nape, his thumb gently rubbing back and forth along the skin beneath your earlobe. “Stay until I fall asleep?” Your eyes lifted, looking up as he flashed you a smile, nodding as his eyes closed for a moment. Your head pressed against his chest once more, your eyes fluttering as you drifted, the sound of his heart beating soothing you, the reassurance you needed, the kind that let you know how close he was, how he was always gonna be your shoulder to lie on.

Thump.

Thump..

Dividers: @cafekitsune Thought I’d start off with something short and sweet as I’m still getting my footing on here, any tips and criticism are welcome and appreceated. 🌹

#dean winchester #dean winchester angst #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x male reader #gay #male reader #fanfic #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural x reader #supernatural

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lavendertom · 11 months

Text

My Favorite Prize

Mike Schmidt x f!Reader

wc: 1.7k

warnings: none! just fluff and fun 🤗

so this is my first time ever writing a fic and posting it, so apologies if it isn’t great and has mistakes, i just felt so drawn to this idea i had to attempt to write it! i hope y’all enjoy it as much as i enjoyed writing it :)

this is kind of an au where nothing bad ever happened to the pizzeria (i’m an optimist if u can’t tell), mike still has the security job there, but it’s all good vibes bc he deserves happiness :’) basically just mike, abby, and reader having a fun day out at freddy’s ☺️

also was written w a female reader in mind, but i don’t think there’s any explicit use of she/her pronouns so do what you will with that

keeping this intro short as possible, but i’ll include another a/n at the end!

——————————————————————————

You would’ve never thought that taking a babysitting job for a neighbor down your street would lead to some of the best memories you’ve ever had. Not to mention it also led to you and Mike, your boyfriend, meeting each other.

Naturally, you spend a lot of time with Mike and especially his sister, Abby, who you’ve been babysitting for about 6 months now. Your bond with her feels like so much more than just being her babysitter, even more so after starting to date Mike. You are always more than happy to do all kinds of activities with her, even if you’re “off the job.” After all, you’re at the house almost everyday now.

“Can we please go to Freddy’s today? I’ve been collecting quarters for months now, I want to use them!” Abby begged as you, her, and Mike finished your breakfast.

“I’m sure your brother doesn’t want to go to work over the weekend, but I can take you if you really want to go.” you said with a smile as you got up to wash off your plate.

“What makes you think I wouldn’t want to join in on this?” Mike asked looking back at you.

“You need a break, Mike.” you answered. “You stay home and rest, Abby and I will go. Plus it’s your job, you don’t want to be thinking about work over the weekend. I don’t mind taking her, trust me.” You often needed to remind him it was okay to stay home and rest. He works his ass off, mostly to provide for Abby, but also because he can’t help but spoil you as well. Even if you didn’t need anything, he still cared too much.

“Please y/n!” Abby shouted from her seat. “Let Mike come too. It will be extra fun then!”

“Yeah, y/n.” Mike said, giving you that look you couldn’t say no to. You looked into those brown eyes, shaking your head smiling.

“Okay, okay,” you responded laughing at the siblings, “let’s go then.”

The three of you piled into Mike’s sedan. On the way there, you and Abby sang some of her favorite Disney tunes, occasionally getting Mike to sing a line or two.

When you arrived, Abby immediately ran up to the stage of three animatronic animals who were singing and dancing. You and Mike followed behind, hand in hand. The pizzeria was full of children playing games, eating pizza, and running around doing whatever kids do.

“I don’t know why she loves those damn robots so much.” Mike said as the two of you walked in. “They’re creepy.”

“I think it’s cute.” you replied. “I think it’d be fun to hang out with them sometime, you know? Like, play arcade games with them, eat some pizza. I mean, you practically have a sleepover with them every night, Mike.”

“You wouldn’t be saying that if you had to be their guardian every night.” he said sarcastically.

“I don’t buy it, you love them.” you responded, squeezing his hand. He gave you a dramatic eye roll and you couldn’t help but giggle at him. You finally caught up to Abby, finding the girl still in awe of the animatronic show. “Alright Abby, what are we doing first?”

The girl thought for a moment, until her eyes lit up and that mischievous little smirk she makes was on her face. “Skee ball competition.”

“What does the winner get?” Mike asked.

“If I win, you have to get me ice cream for dessert.” She replied confidently. She always knew what she wanted, and she was gonna get it no matter what.

“And what if I win?” you asked.

“Then Mike has to get you a prize.” She replied grinning at the two of you.

“Why’s it always me who has to pay the price?” he asked. Abby already began skipping towards the arcade games.

“You’re the one who asked.” you replied giving him a shrug. “And by the way, I’m so winning this.”

“Yeah?” he asked smirking as the two of you followed Abby. “What if I win? What do I get?”

“I guess something can be arranged if you win.”

“Well you better start thinking of something because there won’t be an ‘if I win’, just a when I win.”

The three of you found the skee ball games, each picking a lane to play on. You all agreed whoever had the most points after three rounds of playing was the winner. Abby decided she would count down before shouting “go!” and the game was on. Surprisingly, Abby did very well, and the game ended with a win for Abby, and a draw between you and Mike for second place.

“I win!” Abby shouted jumping up and down before giving Mike a hug. “Now you have to get me ice cream for dessert!” You couldn’t help but smile at the two, their bond was unlike any other.

“Okay, okay, Abby!” he said with a laugh as Abby pulled away from him. “But before that, it looks like y/n and I have a tie to break.”

“Oh, we’re doing this now huh?” you said, crossing your arms. “You can’t stand a draw?”

“I was told there would be prizes and I am not letting my efforts go to waste.”

“Okay, fine, best of three wins.” You grabbed a handful of quarters out of the cup sitting on edge of the game.

“Ready to lose, sweetheart?”

What he didn’t realize was Abby slowly making her way towards your skee ball lane, silently noting she was on your side.

“Don’t get so ahead of yourself, babe.” you said with a playful scoff. What ensued after was the best mix of chaos and fun.

You and Abby were both trying to throw as many balls as you could in the somewhat small skee ball lane. The two of you were laughing at how terribly it ended up working out. Mike finally realized the team you two had formed to which he kept playfully shoving the balls out of your hands, while somehow still maintaining control of his own with his other hand. By the end, you were so out of breath from not only playing the competitive game, but laughing at the madness that occurred.

“I can’t believe you let Mike win, y/n!” Abby said, sounding more upset than she should’ve been.

“I would never let your brother purposely beat me at a game of skee ball.” you said, still out of breath. “He sabotaged the game!” you shouted, giving him a knowing look while pointing an accusing finger at him.

“I believe I deserve some sort of prize for my victory.” he responded smirking as he stood looking at you with his arms crossed.

You finally caught your breath as you looked into his brown eyes, then down to his lips which still held the small smirk. You walked closer to him, putting your hands on his shoulders as you stood on your tip toes to place a soft, small kiss on his lips. He put his hands around your waist, pulling you in just a bit. You could feel him smile, and you did too, letting out a small laugh.

“I’m still here you know.” Abby said, making you both turn to face her, still standing by the skee ball lane. She wasn’t the biggest fan of the two of you showing affection, but you knew deep down it made her happy. After all, she was the one who got you guys to realize your feelings for each other. “So am I getting my ice cream or not?”

“How could I forget.” Mike said sarcastically to his sister, giving her a small smile. He wrapped an arm around your waist as you stood next to him. “Does pizza sound good for dinner?”

“Of course, but don’t you dare forget her ice cream. She’s scary when she gets mad.” you said that last part in a whisper just loud enough for Abby to hear.

“Hey!” she shouted, knowing you guys were messing with her.

“Believe me, I know.” Mike said, ruffling his sister’s hair as they all made their way to the dining room.

The three of you enjoyed a delicious pizza dinner at Freddy Fazbear’s, making sure not to forget Abby’s ice cream she so rightfully earned. Before you left for home, Abby traded in some of her tickets for prizes at the prize counter. She ended up choosing a Bonnie plushie and a little Freddy keychain. She had been working towards collecting all of the Fazbear plushies, having just a few more left to complete the collection.

“Today was so fun!” Abby squealed as the three of you left, her Bonnie plush in hand.

“It was pretty fun.” you said smiling, taking in the final sights, sounds, and smells of the pizzeria as you walked out the doors. The three of you somehow ended up spending most of the day there, continuing to play games and eat tons of pizza.

“You know what, I think we should do this more often.” Mike chimed in.

“Really?” you said, genuinely surprised.

“Yeah. I know it’s technically work, but this was really fun. Thanks for letting me tag along, y/n.” he held onto your hand again.

“Don’t just thank me, Abby was the one who really convinced me to let you join us.”

“I find that extremely hard to believe.” he said while bumping his shoulder into yours.

“Fine, you’re kinda fun too I guess.”

“Just kinda?” he asked raising an eyebrow.

“Maybe a little more than kinda.” you admitted. He placed a kiss on the top of your head as you reached his car.

“Y/n?” Abby asked.

“Yes Abby?” you replied.

She took the Freddy keychain out of her pocket, handing it to you. “This is for you, since you never got a prize for winning skee ball. And because you’re my favorite.”

You nearly teared up at the gesture. A huge smile had come across your face.

“Abby, you are too sweet. Thank you.” you said as you held the small keychain in your hand, giving her a hug.

At the last second you decided to pull Mike into your hug, savoring every moment of having your two favorite people right by your side. “You guys are my favorite prize.”

——————————————————————————

A/N

i hope y’all enjoyed :) depending how well this is received i may consider writing more for mike and whatnot. hopefully it didn’t feel too long, once i start writing i can’t really stop myself. don’t be afraid to lmk ur thoughts in the comments!

i thought we needed more of these kinds of fics for those of us who had our inner child healed from the fnaf movie. these r my fav kind of fics and there just isn’t enough of them 🫶

if ur one to listen to music while reading, i recommend the first 4 songs off of Mylo Xyloto by coldplay. that’s exactly what went thru my mind while writing. 🤗

#fnaf #fnaf movie #mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt #josh hutcherson #five nights at freddy’s movie #fnaf x reader #five nights at freddy's #abby schmidt #mike schmidt x y/n #michael schmidt

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racingline3 · 1 year

Text

Early Mornigs ~ Lewis Hamilton

♡ Lewis Hamilton x Reader (!Russell Sister)

Description: Early mornings at the Paddock become a lot more interesting

~fluff & a bit of angst ~

Weekend mornings were your new favourite time of the week.

It had happened by complete accident.

You had been extra early one Friday morning to the Paddock and made a beeline for the Mercedes catering truck to find it wasn’t completely set up. There was one table and chairs set up and someone was sitting there already.

But it wasn’t just anyone. It was Lewis Hamilton.

Being George’s older sister, you had met the man before, when George had first signed his contract, at a Mercedes Friends and Family event. You saw him around the garage but you were always hiding away in George’s side, keeping out of everyone’s way.

You had never spoken to him alone. But you did need somewhere to sit until everything else set up. You were far too aware that he was a multiple time world champion and practical living legend but you reminded yourself he was still a human being too.

“Hi…eh, Lewis?” You ask, “Would you mind if I take a seat?” You nod to the chair on the other side of the large table, while juggling your coffee mug, bag and laptop.

He looks up from his phone and recognition dawns on his face, he says your name like you chat everyday, “George’s sister right?”

You think that it must speak volumes about his character to bother remembering the names of peripheral family of your teammate at this kind of elite level. “Of course, take a seat.”

“Thanks so much. I didn’t mean to get here so early.” You apologize.

“No worries.” He waves away your apology. “It’s nice to be here before the craziness descends.” He smiles softly.

“Oh God, am I interrupting your pre race ritual? Pretend I’m not here.” You rush out, opening your laptop to put a barrier between the two of you.

“No, not at all. I just like to get my coffee before the mayhem. I’m not a morning person by nature so I like to have some time before jumping into the day’s meetings.”

You shut your laptop down with a click, “Oh that’s good, because it is far too early for me to start work.” You grin and crip your mug with both hands.

“You work this early?” He asks, his head tipping to the side slightly, giving you his full attention.

It was complicated to say the least, “Eh…I mean…not…”

“Some things are too difficult to talk about this early in the morning.” He says leaning across to you ever so slightly.

“Yeah.” You admit with a sigh.

“Wait, I thought you didn’t like Formula 1?” You look at him in disbelief as he remembers something you mentioned when you had been chatting to him and Toto when George was signing his contract. “It’s pretty unusual for everyone in the family not to be consumed by it all.” His smile is smaller, as if he’s self-conscious of remembering something so specific about you.

You lean over and fake whisper, “I probably wouldn’t watch motor sports if George wasn’t involved.”

He places a hand over his heart. “That’s cold.”

“It’s just cars driving in circles.” You quip, using the description that always drove George mad with indignation.

But Lewis just throws his head back with a laugh. “You’re not wrong.”

“So you’re a good sister to come here and put up with all this then?” He asks as he idly traces a finger around the rim of his mug and you have the sudden ache for him to softly trace his finger like that against your collarbone.

“I love George. We all helped him make his dream come through, and now he’s helping me.” You say and Lewis doesn’t push when you don’t give anymore information.

“It’s nice when the first thing someone talks to me about isn’t my racing strategy, my thoughts on FIA regulations and the rest of it.” He admits.

“Oh damn, I was actually going to ask you about a race in 2015 when…” You say but laugh instead, “I can’t even come up with an example.” You shrug.

It was then you got hit by the effect of Lewis’ full smile, one that lit up his eyes and made your heart beat that little bit faster.

*****************

You spent all Friday evening overthinking it all. If you turned up to Paddock early again on Saturday and Lewis was there, would he think you were being a stalker?

You ignored the tiny voice that mentioned that if he wasn’t there, that you’d be disappointed.

So you turned up, the same time as the previous day and to your utter relief Lewis smiled when he saw you and pointed to the chair opposite him.

“Fancy seeing you here.” He grins.

“I swear I’m not stalking you.” The words tumble out of your mouth before you can stop. The familiar grip of anxiety clasped around your throat.

“I’m going to have to call off the restraining order now.” He says with a straight face and you panic for a split second before his mouth twitches into a grin, “I’m just joking, I never thought you were. You know people usually follow me around to see the trophies and hear the on-track stories, I kind of think that would send you running.”

“Straight to a plane and back to England.” You confirm when your shoulders relax at his jovial mood.

He laughs again and you’re worried that the sound is becoming more addictive than your morning caffeine hit.

"I hate driving." You admit and he looks at you like you're a puzzle he wants to solve, "that's why I'm here so early. I avoid all the traffic and there's plenty of room for me to try and park without anyone looking at how many tries it takes me." You blush, wondering why his presence made you feel comfortable enough to say things you'd never tell anyone else.

Perhaps it's because it's just the two of you.

Perhaps it's the early morning.

Or perhaps that's just the effect that Lewis has on you.

He nods as he digests your words, "So you do what you're scared of despite the fear, that’s pretty brave you know. I'm here because once people know I'm awake my life is full of noise, full of schedules and training and sometimes I need a break, without offending anyone."

"So you can be Lewis and not Lewis Hamilton?" You ask.

"Yeah exactly." He says, his eyes might as well have been looking right into your very soul.

It was probably for the best that his phone started ringing. "Toto." He says as he glances at the screen.

"Time to go be Lewis Hamilton." You say softly.

"I'll see you tomorrow? " He asks as he stands up before answering his phone.

"See you then."

It had been that simple.

You and Lewis and met you every morning of a Grand Prix for months.

You had told him about the burnout you had at your corporate job and how George had come to your rescue and wanted you to travel with him for a year, seeing as you had taken extra part-time jobs for years to help fund his karting career.

About how your dream was to be a published writer and so while everyone timed laps, you were timing story pace. How you were very happy to let George take the limelight and had your pen name chosen.

He told you how claustrophobic life could be like for him. How he missed his family and normal life sometimes. How he felt such pressure on his shoulders. How hungry he was for another world championship.

The two of you, being each others’ rock for a while every time the storms of the Grand Prix hit. It felt like a special little bubble.

Until it burst.

**********************

You have a skip in your step as you enter the catering area, you had come up with the resolution of a plot twist that had been annoying you and can’t wait to tell Lewis about it.

But Lewis isn't at his, your, usual table.

You stop before telling yourself he must be running late and get your coffee.

And wait.

You even send him a text to see if he's okay. You had long since swapped numbers, you delighted when your little bubble extended to everyday life as you sent him driving memes and he sent you pictures of Roscoe.

You know he had had a bad qualifying but that had never stopped him turning up before. He doesn't even read the message and you sit there until your coffee turns cold.

It was only worse later on in the day when your heart was practically flooded with ice when Lewis walked right past you in the Paddock, ignoring when you said hi and disappearing into the crowd.

He knew you hid from the media, wearing a peak cap at all times and never speaking to many people at a Grand Prix so as not to draw attention to yourself. So the mere act of saying hello to him was a big deal.

And now you were left standing in the middle of the chaos watching as Lewis Hamilton walked away and you wondered where the hell your Lewis had gone.

You had kept your meetups as a sweet secret just for the two of you. Now you wished you had yelled it from the rooftops just so that someone else knew about it and so you know it wasn't all a dream.

The next time you got close to him was when he was going for the drivers parade and you called to him.

He reached up and put his sunglasses down over his eyes and walked by you like you were just another person of the omnipresent crowd around him.

You go straight to George. He looks up from some stats he's looking over and frowns when he sees your face. "What's wrong?" Your little brother knows you well.

"Nothing. It's just…has Lewis been acting differently with you today?"

He seems to ponder it, "No but…"

"But what Georgie?"

"Is there something going on between you and Lewis?"

"What?"

"I just heard some rumors. You were seen together and you know how the gossip rumor works, you’re practically married by now." He shrugs.

"There's nothing happening. I just thought we were friends." You admit. "He's been off with me today."

"I'm sure it's not on purpose, Lewis is a good guy." He huffs then and crosses his arms, "But if something happens I'm going to have to have a talk with him."

You roll your eyes with a laugh, "You don't have to protect me Georgie."

Someone called George from inside the garage and your talk was cut short. You could do nothing but go along with the flow as the race set up and the lights went out.You felt a headache coming on. It just worsened as you watched the race, trying to pretend to be normal.

Trying to pretend that Lewis hadn't hurt you. Trying to pretend that you hadn't given Lewis your heart over the past few months and he may as well have driven his car over it.

*******************

As the race trundled on, you wondered when exactly you had fallen in love with Lewis. The realisation hit you as hard as a car hitting the wall on a street circuit.

You had fallen in love with his smile, his way of thinking, his values, his terrible dad jokes, his very soul.

He had once told you that you were brave. So you mustered all you could, shoved your anxiety back down your throat and stalked across the garage post race like a woman on a mission.

You didn't care who saw you. You didn't care if everyone posted it on every social media platform.

You followed Lewis into his trailer, jumping up the step and stopping the door closing behind him.

He looks at you as you close the door behind you, sweat stuck to his skin and his breath still slightly laboured from the race.

"What is going on?" You ask, trying to get his attention as he looks out the window of his trailer before shutting the blinds. "What are you doing?" You ask, completely bewildered.

It was like all your nightmares coming true.

Was he ashamed to be seen with you?

"What are you doing here?" He asks, his voice hard.

"What is going on Lewis? I thought we were friends." You fire back as gruffly.

His eyes soften, "Of course we are."

"Then what the hell is happening?"

"What's happening is that people have found out we hang out."

"So you don't want anyone to know that you know me?" Your stomach churned at the thought of being some dirty secret for him.

"No I don't." He says, then his armor falls away, "Because then you would be sucked into my media storm and you don't deserve that. It's better if we keep a distance."

"You didn't want to tell me any of this?" You wonder aloud.

"Because people change when they have a chance at fame."

"And you thought that of me?" You hated that your voice broke over his lack of trust in you.

"No. Not for a second. But you don't want this. You hate fame. You want a quiet life and I can't give you that." His voice was strained. "So it's...."

"Better to keep our distance, apparently?" You tossed his words back to him.

He nods, "Because it hit me, if I spend much more time with you, I won't ever want to let you go, and you won't want to stay amidst the chaos."

He stole the air right out of your lungs.

"I like you. I’ve started to look forward more to seeing you than the races at weekends." He says, "And I don't want to keep hold of you if you don’t any of this, so I'm letting you go before this gets...,"

"Lewis." You say, your voice practically strangled by emotion. "I'm not going anywhere."

The air became heavy, your heart started racing as if it had been given a jump by DRS.

"I didn't mean to hurt you. I figured you're better off without me and the crazy rumours." He says.

You don't know where you find the courage to take a step towards him. "What if they're not rumors anymore?"

He gently encircles one of your wrists with his hand, ghosting his thumb over your pulse point.

“You’re right. I don’t like the limelight, I’m shy and quiet and I don’t care about Formula 1 further than you and George love it. I don’t care about any of it, Lewis. I don't want you for your fame. I care about you. I want you."

He lifts your hand so it's placed on his shoulder, you dig you fingers into his race suit immediately as if you plan to hold onto him for dear life.

“I thought it would hurt you more, all of this.” He admits. “And I never want to hurt you.”

“Then don’t push me away.” You tell him, “I know my own mind and I want to be here.”

He does exactly as you ask as he moves an arm around your waist and takes the final step towards you. He leans down, his mouth ghosting over yours, giving you another chance to back out, to run a mile.

So you lean in the rest of the way.

The world rearranges itself so there’s nothing but Lewis, how he tastes, how he feels, as he pulls you fully against him.

If this is the exhilaration of driving a Formula 1 car, you really can’t blame Lewis for loving it so much.

It was Toto Wolff of all people who barged in and interrupted the best damn kiss of your life. You pulled away but Lewis kept his hand on your back.

“Ah.” He says in usual straight talking manner. “This is why you’re so happy at our morning meetings lately.”

#lewis hamilton #lewis hamilton x you #lewis hamilton x reader #f1blr #f1 fluff #fl #formula 1 #george russell #paddock #paddock gossip #blurb #long blurb

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