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delphi-shield · 3 months ago

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kiss it better ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

Jill Valentine x Reader Smut / MDLG mdni wc: ~5.6k i don't have to explain myself, so i won't. 🙂‍↕️ dividers by @/adornedwithlight.

summary: Jill's got reservations about this whole 'mommy' thing. She's not the maternal type - but for you, she can try.

content: mommy dom!Jill, little!reader, afab!reader, boot riding, dumbification, extensive depiction of cgl dynamics/lifestyle, humiliation, finger-sucking, spit, fingering, titsucking, aftercare, use of sippy cups/coloring book/the word 'stuffies', ruined orgasm, orgasm denial, implied age gap (di era jill, mid-late 20s+ reader).

In hindsight, the sippy cup should have been the first red flag.

Jill didn’t even bat an eye when you bought it. You'd tucked it to the back of the belt during a grocery trip, hiding it amidst the other canned goods, tried your damnedest to distract her while the cashier rang it up. She didn't know how to break it to you that she had seen you pick it out. She'd watched you deliberate between pink or green - strawberries or watermelon - before settling on pink.

You'd said you were going to look at candles - probably the truth, because you'd put one in the cart, too. Jill had doubled back to pick up laundry detergent and had caught you lingering in the kids aisle. She had always been able to pick you out of a crowd, had a sixth sense for where you were, hand practically magnetized to the small of your back. You looked so focused alone in that aisle that she had swallowed the call of your name and marched back to the cart.

So yes, she’d glossed over the (rather obvious) way you had tried to hide the purchase from her. That was as far as she was letting it go, though. Once you got home, you tried to bury it behind all the coffee mugs. Weird, she thought. You just bought the goddamn thing. You'd been talking about wanting a water bottle with a straw for a full month. It would be out of sight out of mind if you put it way back there, eaten up by the cabinet.

You shuffled away to put up the rest of the groceries and Jill plucked the cup from the back. She put the pink plastic front and center, right next to the rest of the glassware, as though it belonged there.

“That’ll cut down on our carpet cleaning,” she had even joked when she heard you traipsing back in.

A beat. She turns to look at you over her shoulder, brow raised. You look like a deer caught in floodlights, waiting to be gunned down. It took a moment for you to dig your voice up from the pit of your stomach.

“I know. All the regular ones didn't have the latching lid. Like, I need that anti-spill technology. I have to be baby-proofed.”

Yeah. It was a little out of place that you felt the need to justify the cup to her. Again - in hindsight, maybe it was a little odd. Surely there had been a water bottle that wasn’t pink and covered in cute little strawberries, but you were an adult. You made your own money. If you wanted the sippy cup with the strawberries on it, then you could have it. She wasn't about to police your tastes. After all, at a certain point of maturity you started to realize that the difference between kid stuff and adult stuff was just marketing. So many 'kid' versions of things were just the same as their adult counterparts. Covered in smiling bunnies and rainbows, maybe, but functionally the same item.

Suffice it to say, Jill didn't give two shits what stuff you bought for yourself. You were prone to spilling drinks, so the latching lid excuse made sense. Her singular complaint was the size. As your designated drink-getter, her trips had doubled. (She'd found some online in a bigger size, all muted, muddy colors, no cartoon strawberries. “Anti-spill technology,” she'd pointed out. You had shrugged, sipping at your little drink. It was the perfect size for one bottle of your favorite apple juice. That, she couldn't deny.)

She'd been unintentionally feeding into your preferred lifestyle the whole time, buying you the cutesy set of stickers for your scrapbook, picking up glittery markers when she saw them on sale.

The coloring books certainly weren't a bridge too far. You wanted to turn your brain off after a long week at work. That was all, really. Jill hadn’t asked for an explanation - she had asked which ones you liked, that she might pick one out for you. The first few she chosen had been branded 'adult coloring books' but again - what was the difference, other than subject matter and the complexity of some of them? You'd dutifully sat next to her during movie nights and colored regardless of difficulty. Your hand-eye coordination was developed, see? Made staying in the lines so much easier. And the colors you picked out - they don't (usually) clash. That all ties back to that developed eye for style.

‘Babydoll’ might not have been the best choice of pet names for you, but it had slipped out. It felt right, more sincere than ‘dear’ or ‘babe’. If she had known she was unintentionally enabling you, sending the little plastic gears in your head grinding to a halt, she might have picked something different.

The first time she'd said it, you'd given her a blank look. Jill had sworn not to say it again, already marking that off the list of options, but your response had been quick.

“No–” you reeled yourself in, a little too forceful there. Like a kid stomping their feet. “No, it's okay. I like it.”

How was she supposed to know that you had dubbed her ‘mommy’ in your internal monologue? That ‘babydoll’ did nothing but feed into your perception of her?

After it had all come out, after your first little slip-up that had sent both of you hurtling headlong into a series of changes in your lifestyle, you'd confessed that you had been thinking of her this way since you had moved in. Jill had been synonymous with ‘mommy’ since your possessions had spilled from the open mouth of the U-Haul and flooded her apartment. Her sparse, curated collection of decorations had been swallowed up in a wash of stuffed animals and plush blankets, and she had done nothing to stem the tide. Hell, she’d piled more on. Bought you stuffed animals from boutiques, airport giftshops, gas stations - anywhere, so long as it made her think of you.

Jill hadn’t thought twice about the stuffies. If most of her keepsakes hadn’t been obliterated via air strike, courtesy of the U.S.A. back in 1998, she’d probably have a collection of decor to contend with yours. Maybe less of the fuzzy variety, but she understood the appeal. She had never been one to get jealous of an inanimate object. If you wanted to lay your head on her lap, favorite stuffed animal coiled tight in your arms, then she had no objection. She’d willingly cocooned you in the fluffiest blanket within reach, her hand settling at the bend of your waist.

So, the stuffed animals? Totally normal. The sleepy, nonsensical babbles you’d catch from time to time during a night in, when it was just the two of you? She didn’t think twice. That had hardly been an adjustment.

Jill felt a little slow for not catching on before you let it slip. There had been so many signs. Piles of evidence all around her, some of which she had contributed to. She must be getting lax as the years wear on. Normally, she's sharp as can be. She'd know things about you before you did.

You’d been riding her boot the first time you said it. Jill had been busy - too busy to spend a couple hours folding you in half and fucking you to sleep, she told you. You'd dragged yourself into her office in your barely-there shorts, nipples pert and peaking the flimsy fabric of your tank top. Wait a minute - not your tank top. Hers. An old, faded Depeche Mode tank, white, damn near see-through.

She kept track of you in her peripheral as you dragged your bean bag chair (she'd offered to get you a real chair, something with back support, but you'd insisted; when you hit thirty, she’ll be able to gloat) right up next to hers, and dropped into it. Foosh. Makes your tits bounce when you plop down like that. That's probably why you did it.

She scooted forward in her chair, flipping the armrest up and kicking one leg out. Your eyes lit with glee. Horny little goblin. You moved to straddle her thigh, hands braced on her knee while you wobbled into position.

“Ah-ah.” Jill didn’t take her eyes from the screen. She kept hammering away at her report, the deadline looming. She stopped at a paragraph break to snap her fingers twice, pointing to the floor. “Down.”

You’d cratered to your knees without so much a second thought. See? Obedience wasn’t new to you. How was she supposed to know it was a different sort of devotion, different from the submission she was used to?

Something warm curls around her ankle - your hand, she realizes with a glance. Jill sighs. She hadn’t said not to touch. It’s difficult to be mad at the way your thumb circles her calf, especially for a command she hadn’t issued. Jill’s chair creaks backwards, her hands stilling on the keyboard. Your chin settles on her knee, eyes big and pleading for her touch.

Jill folds her arms under her chest. Your eyes track the way her chest moves. It's almost cartoonish - she half expects your tongue to loll out of your mouth.

“Get on.” Jill wiggles her boot back and forth. Your head tips to the side, confusion drawing your brows up. “On my boot, babydoll.”

She sees it - the brief flash where you’re drawn out of play time. The quickest twist of annoyance in your pout. How many times did you have to tell her to stop wearing her shoes inside? Especially her work boots, crusted with mud and shit and god knows what else. But if you’re worried about that then you’re too horny to protest. Her babydoll comes back in another blink, pressing your cunt down onto her steel toe.

There you go. Jill starts typing again and you get the hint. You're independent enough that you don't need her direction at every turn. Thank god - she'd never get anything done if you couldn't find a rhythm on your own, if you couldn't use whatever part of her body she dictated to get yourself off.

It doesn't take long for you to start whimpering. Your arms wind around her leg, chest pressed tight to her while you grind your drippy pussy against her. You use her body as leverage to drag yourself back and forth. Poor baby. Reduced to humping her leg like a damn dog.

Your pretty little whimpers come quicker, louder. Jill's fingers scrape against your scalp, urging your head upwards. She pools spit at the tip of her tongue, considers dripping it into you. Your mouth is popped open for her already, moans punctuating every push of your hips.

Any thought of tormenting you with the anticipation disappears when she sees you pinch your nipple, hips circling against the toe of her boot frantically. Your eyes flutter, thighs pulsing, so close–

“Stop.”

Jill rips her boot away for you. You plop against the floor, whining at the loss. Your hand flies to your pussy, rubbing your clit desperately through your shorts.

“I said stop,” Jill grinds out.

Her hand grips your jaw, fingers curling. You pull your hands away from yourself, fingers glistening when you lay them flat against the tops of your thighs. A whine squeaks out of you. Jill’s eyes narrow.

“Open,” she demands. Your mouth pops open obediently. When Jill gives you a directive, you follow it. Jump— how high? Cum— how hard?

Look at you - perfect little slut, tongue plopped out for her. She spits a fat glob of spit dead center and drops your jaw.

“Swallow.” It’s said carelessly. She looks away from you as if uninterested in you display. Her clit throbs in time with her heartbeat. Perfect girl, perfect, trained little–

You swallow. From the edges of her vision, she sees you stick your tongue back out as proof. “Thank you, mommy.”

The air in the room shifts, suddenly colder. Her skin feels as though it’s been pulled taut. Confusion swirls with her arousal. You said ma’am. Surely you said ma’am.

“What?” She blurts out, hands at a full rest on her keyboard.

You’ve still got that floaty, airy look about you. Jill wonders if it’s even possible to get a straight answer out of you right now.

“Thank you?” You repeat, unsure yourself. You blink quickly. She can pinpoint the moment you come back into your body, shoulders tensing, eyes widening, skirting away from her. “Uh– ma’am?”

Nice try. Not buying it.

“Did you call me mommy?”

Jill will probably regret the way she had spat that out until the day she died. It hadn’t been worth seeing the crushed look on your face, the shame flushed through you in a full-body shudder. In the moment, though, she can’t deny the pulse of disgust.

That night had ended on unsteady footing. She’d asked you not to call her that. You’d apologized again and again throughout the conversation, set her teeth on edge with how small you’d made yourself. It felt worse, seeing you slink out of her office, knowing you were going to curl up in bed - knowing you’d pretend to be asleep when she came in to check on you a few minutes later.

She had already been doing this for you, she realized. The new context was uncomfortable. She had sat in that feeling for a few days, tried to fall back into the patterns of your relationship without thinking of them these new, strained terms. Despite reassurances, she’d watched you shove away the things that had made you so comfortable.

No more coloring books - not in front of her at least. You’d left a stray marker lying out when you scrambled to hide the evidence of your coloring from her. Your sippy cup had been pushed to the back of the cabinet again, no matter how many times she’d moved it back to the front.

The final straw was when you’d started packing your stuffed animals away.

She could have been gentler about the whole thing, admittedly, but it had made her so goddamn angry to see you shove away things that made you happy. You had misunderstood her - or she hadn’t communicated clearly, or – or something.

“Quit,” she demands, pulling the stuffies from their cardboard prison. She set them firmly back on your side of the bed (never tossing - you’d told her before, tossing them was mean). “Stop doing this shit, babe. You don’t have to quit doing stuff you like.”

“But you don’t like it.”

“I never said that.”

“Yeah, you did.”

“No, I–” Jill pinches the bridge of her nose. This is going nowhere, round and round in circles. She takes a deep breath, lets it out slow.

“I don’t want it in the bedroom.”

“Then where do you want them?”

“Not the– the stuffed animals can stay. Okay? I just don’t like it when we’re having sex. The ‘mommy’ stuff. But you– I want you to be how you want to be with me. We were already doing the little stuff before. Right?” Jill’s hand cups your cheek, urges you to keep looking at her. There’s no hiding from this, not from her.

You still struggle to meet her eyes. She can tell you’ve picked a spot over her shoulder, staring past her. She ducks her head, puts herself into your vision.

“...Kinda. Yeah.”

“Then we can keep doing that.” Her answer is firm. She’s spent hours thinking about this, analyzing where her discomfort came from, why it hit her so goddamn hard – how to ensure you never felt so rejected by her again. The discomfort lingers, smaller than before. Dwarfed by how greatly she misses having you next to her and comfortable. There had been an openness that she had stolen from you. “...Just don’t call me mommy when you’re getting off on my boot anymore, okay? I’m not ready for that.”

In time, the discomfort faded. Having you next to her at the end of a hard week, eyes wide and vulnerable, trusting her completely to take care of her - it became a little intoxicating. Her boundaries expanded, pushed farther and farther from where they had started as she slipped back into routine.

It surprises her how well she takes to it. Jill hasn't got much in the way of maternal instincts. She's good with dogs, though, and kids and dogs both need discipline. It's the same thing, right?

No. Not at all. But you're not really a kid. Your real mom did all the hard work, and now Jill gets to sweep in and have all the fun. Sit. Roll over. Speak. You're good at those.

Stay, not so much. She knows she’s got you in the right headspace when you won't stop wiggling. Jill's grown accustomed to slinging an arm across your stomach when she buries her face in your pussy. The squirming never ends, and pressing your hips into the mattress had only ever made you curl upwards, arms bracketing her head, shoving her face into your cunt.

The real danger is letting you sit on her face while you're like this. You squirm and buck, squeal out your pleasure while she laps at you. She rocks her head from side to side, her nose bumping against your pudgy clit. The way you thrust down into her - christ, you’re going to send her to the hospital one day.

That was how it had been the first time Jill had opened up the floodgates, the first time she’d let these little games back into your bedroom.

Her hands palm the globes of your ass, spreading you open for her tongue. She keeps you nice and tight against her face, her neck craned at an angle that would hurt later. A problem for tomorrow. Today’s problem is that you keep biting your knuckle, tucking those pretty little sounds away from her.

Jill swats your ass, quick, sharp. She pulled away only far enough to reprimand you – “Don’t hide from mommy” – before she wrapped her lips around your clit and churned her tongue against you, again and again.

You let out a surprised squeak, garbled behind your fist. Your hips shot forward, pressing her face into the mattress, suffocating her with your cunt. Jill moaned, gripped you tighter, held you to her face and tongue-fucked you through an orgasm that made your spine twist, your thighs clamp tight around her head.

Jesus Christ - that’s what she’d been missing out on? All because she’d been too squeamish about a title?

That was all it took to convince herself that she was fine with it, really. Jill helped you roll off of her. She lowered you back to the mattress as if you were a priceless, fragile little thing. The urge to care for you, to pamper you, had never been stronger. You’d nearly had to force her to quit flitting around you. It took insisting that you needed to cuddle for her to stop, for her to let you settle against her.

“I think you broke my nose,” Jill teases.

“Stop.” You hide your face in the top sheet, but she hears you bite off a giggle. Her hands float to your sides, long digits brushing along the curve of your ribs, snaking up your stomach to cup your breasts. She rolls them in her palms - together, then apart, thumbs flicking over your nipples. Languid, no heat behind it. No need for another round, not yet, but she wants to appreciate the art before her.

“I'm serious.” Jill turns her head to the side. Her profile silhouettes in the lamplight.

She's the kind of woman they make statues of. Her nose cuts a proud shape from the light, the slope of her brow relaxed only here in your bedroom. It occurs to you to trail a finger along contour of her face and, uninhibited, you do. Jill holds still for you, let’s you marvel at the work before your eyes. Her nose has been broken before - not by your weight, but by fists. Her throat bobs as you trail a knuckle down her chin, against the delicate skin of her neck, childish in your wonder.

Jill still had her boundaries, the same as you had yours.

Your appreciation is every bit grown. You tuck yourself against her side, kiss along her jaw until you reach her lips. You mutter your ‘I love you’ against her there. She can be ‘mommy’, she realizes. Just for you, just within your home.

No disciplinarian stuff, not while you're acting all little. It makes her feel grimy. You don't get in trouble for little stuff, not for leaving your coloring book out or for flooding the living room with stuffies while she's away. You do get in trouble being an absolute brat and pawing at her leg while she's in the middle of a meeting.

That had been fun. You'd been all curled up in your beanbag chair, tucked out of frame while Jill listened in on the eastern European division’s quarterly report. Evidently, reduction in bioterrorism incidents weren't thrilling enough for you. She’d popped her leg out to the side, wiggled her boot at you - a command you knew well enough by then.

What kind of mommy makes her baby girl ride her boot? A strict one. It had always been a favorite punishment, denying you her touch and making you get yourself off however she dictated. But when you were all soft and malleable? Desperate for her attention, for her touch? Now it has her soaking herself. An added, unexpected side effect? You'd stopped nagging her to take her boots off as much.

On the other hand, you staunchly refused for this to be a 24/7 arrangement. You were an adult. You contributed to the house, had goals and ambitions just as much as she did. As happy as Jill was to pamper you, to be your mommy when you needed it, she wasn't ever to hold that over your head.

Once, she'd dared to tease you in the middle of a discussion about utilities - gas bill's so high 'cause my babydoll like the house too warm - and the look you'd given her had been enough to make her backtrack immediately. You hadn't even been willing to entertain the notion that she might treat you as less capable, less of an equal partner just because you enjoyed her care.

That had been a rocky discussion.

“I don't want to do this with you if you're just going to think less of me for it.”

Christ, she wants to pull her hair out, stuff her words back into her mouth and just pay the goddamn gas bill. It wasn't like you couldn't afford it.

“I don't think less of you.”

“Then don't say stuff like that.”

“Babe, you're kind of overreacting.”

Your eyes harden. Obviously, that hadn't been the right thing to say either.

She'd nearly lost you in that conversation. Not entirely, not your whole relationship - just this soft, needy part that craves a softer touch, a nurturing hand. Maybe a better, more experienced mommy would have stepped it back better, assured you that wasn't what she meant. But Jill's not built for this, not naturally.

It's your thing. She's just indulging you.

She gathers up your coloring books, piling them neatly on the coffee table. She takes a minute to thumb through them, to admire the work you'd done that evening. Spooky Cutie, Gummy Bear World, the more complicated dinosaur coloring book from the Smithsonian. You'd been rotating - proudly showing her your work from page to page, polling her on what color you should use from time to time. One moment it was a bear and a cat cooking stew together in a simplified, cutesy kitchen. The broth was dark brown because mommy had decided they were having beef stew, not chicken and dumplings.

The next, you were asking for her favorite dinosaur, then her second favorite, then her third, and flipping through your book to find any one of them. She'd never seen a more elaborate backdrop for a triceratops. You'd dutifully laid out every shade of green you had and set to work on the foliage. Halfway through the movie she realized she'd missed a plot point, too busy checking in on your coloring.

It's not her thing. She just ended up at a craft store one day for something completely different. It was a good deal on markers, honest. Yeah. The deal had been on the ones that were high-end, that had the shades of green you needed to really make that cretaceous-era flora pop.

Jill is so fucked.

Right. Definitely just your thing.

She's above this. Keeps her personal life and her professional life neatly separated, despite the Redfield's best efforts. Claire knows she has a serious girlfriend. She'd done the detective work on Jill's limited social media, pored over new friends and comments like it was her job.

(“I had in-flight wi-fi.” Never a sentence you want to hear Claire Redfield say.

“So you wasted your time stalking me online?”

Claire shrugs. “Your girlfriend posts a lot and she likes everything you post. It wasn't hard to figure it out. She seems nice. Not subtle, but, you know – nice.”)

If Claire knows, then Chris knows. For years he's maintained that he hates gossip, but he's always suspiciously well-informed.

So when Chris sets a big hand on her shoulder and asks how the detective work is going, the appropriate answer should be ‘fine’ or ‘I'm going to blow my brains out if I have to dig through another financial record’. It should not be:

“Mommy's tired.”

Silence. God, she can't have said that. That wasn't what came out of her mouth, surely. She just said ‘I'm tired’, right?

Jill looks up at Chris. His eyebrows are in the fucking stratosphere. Before she can tell him not to say a goddamn word, his face splits into a grin.

“Does mommy want a coffee?”

“I'm reporting you to HR.”

Chris laughs, full-bodied, the sound bursting from his chest. He looks years younger in that moment, and when she huffs a laugh she wonders if she does too. All of that gets wiped away when she remembers how utterly fucked she is. Her cover is blown, her personal life finally hemorrhaged into the office.

“I'm reporting you to HR,” he counters. He swings himself into the chair opposite her desk. “Anything you want to talk about?”

“Fuck you.”

“Not if I have to call you mommy.”

Jill’s more than a little pent up when she kicks the door closed that evening. You turn your head, hands plunged in the basin of the sink. Domestic, homey - not quite her babydoll, but her girlfriend.

As you can imagine, the rest of the day was a nightmare. Chris didn’t know how to let a joke die, but at least he had the sense to keep it between the two of them.

She can change that.

“How was work?” You greet.

“You got me in trouble today.”

Confusion clouds your eyes. You try to turn from the sink, but Jill's arms cage you in. She's not a tall woman, but it's never stopped her from being imposing. She wedges her knee between your legs and lifts, pressing against your cunt. The heat pouring through you short circuits your brain, leaves all your intelligible thoughts fizzling out of your mouth in a confused heap.

“Huh?” Is what you finally manage to muster.

Jill snorts. Very intelligent. Her hands grip your hips. She turns you to face her, presses you down against her thigh, rocks your hips back and forth for you until you get the picture. Your movements are slower, uncertain. She has to battle the urge to force your movements quicker. Patience. She can rip the pleasure from you later.

Her mouth latches onto your neck, open-mouthed kisses pressed against your skin again and again, your pulse quick and unsteady under her lips. Your hands hover inches over her sides, water dripping from your fingertips, iridescent suds drying against your skin. You're not going back to the dishes, not if she can help it; leave them to soak in the sink.

Jill shifts a hand under your waistband, fingers ghosting just above your panties. A shudder rattles down your spine, stomach rolling against her hand. She slips her other hand up your front, ghosting between your breasts. Her knuckles catch under your chin.

“Everyone knows, babydoll.”

It's cute, watching you try to put the pieces together. Your poor little brain is frying and she still turns up the temperature on you. She shifts her leg away to palm your cunt through your panties. Goddamn, you may as well be molten heat at this point. Won't be much longer before she has you dripping into her palm.

It takes all her restraint not to shove your panties to the side and plunge her fingers into your needy little pussy then and there. Patience will make it sweeter, wetter, make you cling to her shoulders, clamp around her so tightly she loses circulation.

Her hand moves from your chin the moment you start forming a question. She presses her middle and ring finger to the seam of your lips and you open before she can so much as muster the first syllable. She chuckles, derisive. Your tongue swirls around her, laving against the pads of her fingers. Dutiful, obedient, her perfect little babydoll lapping at her skin.

You suckle, sloppy wet noise spilling from your mouth. A rush of love hits Jill square in the chest. It drops, settles in her gut right next to the need to claim.

“Everyone knows you need mommy to take care of you,” she coos, mocking. You squirm, something between fear and arousal sparking in your eyes. You suck harder. Definitely arousal.

It’s easy to walk you over to the counter, hips pressed tight to yours. She lets you suck at her fingers as long as she can before she needs that hand to pick you up and drop you on the countertop. Jill shoves your shorts down, tugs your panties to the side. Her spit-slick fingers trail along your slit. You shuffle down, greedy for more of her touch. Her poor baby, alone all day - and already so wet for her.

You suck her fingers in greedily. Her hand presses at your hip, a silent urge for you to stay still, to let her prep you. You can get so ahead of yourself, she knows - but she’ll take care of you. Jill’s mouth latches onto your neck. She only detaches to shuck your t-shirt up and off.

Your legs latch over her hips, trapping her hand between your bodies. Greedy little girl, taking more than she wanted to give. Jill can’t be angry about it, not now. She pumps her fingers into you steadily. Her mouth trails down to your chest, lips latching onto your nipple.

“Take it, babydoll, there you go – take it for me.” Her breath fans against your breast. She buries her face between them, moans against your sternum. Your back arches, tits pressing into her. Your arms press your tits together around her head, smothering her, and her pussy clenches around nothing.

Jill's fingers drill into you, grind right up against that spot that makes you squirm. She could find it blindfolded. No more long, slow-strokes with her thick fingers. Hard, deep, just how you need, thumb rubbing your clit.

Fuck - you must need this as badly as she does. You snap after a few more strokes, moan strangled and high. Your chest arches, your hands flying into her hair, holding her tight to your tits.

“Good girl, perfect girl for mommy– gonna have you cumming all night.” Promises seared into your skin just before her mouth latches above your breast, sucks a bruise into your skin.

Your hand pushes at her wrist, babbling about too much. Jill nearly goddamn growls, as if you’re trying to take her favorite toy away. Her thumb slows against your clit, fingers drawing languidly out of you. One last pump for good measure, just to watch your legs twitch.

Her cheek rests against your chest, rising and falling with your breaths.. She watches you recover with half-lidded eyes.

“Do– do people really know?” You ask once you’ve managed to regain the ability for language processing.

Jill pouts. Clearly she hasn’t fucked you good enough if you’re still worried about that. She shifts to grip your hips, tugging you the the edge of the counter. She cants her hips up, trying to fit them flush with yours. Promises for later.

“Just Chris.” You groan. Honestly, it could be way worse. You’re overreacting. She knows better than to say that out loud now. “He’s not gonna tell anyone.”

“Not even his sister?”

Jill hesitates. She steps back from the counter, helps your newborn deer legs find their foot on the floor. She thumbs the button of her jeans open, stumbling out of them while she helps you over to the couch. You’re easy to position like this, malleable to her wants. Just how you both like it. Jill swats your ass - playful, not punishing.

“You worry too much. They’re not gonna care.”

“What if I care?”

Jill sinks to the floor in front of you, guiding your legs up to her shoulders. She kisses her way up your sweat-slick skin, savoring the taste on her tongue on her way to your core.

“Just let mommy kiss it all better.”

#jill valentine x reader #jill valentine smut #jill valentine x you #resident evil smut #resident evil fanfic #resident evil imagine

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pseudowho · 1 year ago

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Resolute

The reader helps Nanami Kento to accept that he has a drinking problem.

Warnings: Angst, fluff, mentions of character death, alcoholism, post traumatic stress

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The day was long; your evening together was too short. You hadn't seen each other all day, carried apart by the tide of work, and had communicated only in staccato bursts of text messages, single sentences back and forth.

Can't wait to see you. Today has been shit! Cheese, milk, bread, laundry detergent. A short video that made him laugh. A short video that made you laugh. A photo of you teaching the First Years. A photo of Ijichi making a shy 'peace' sign to the camera, Kento barely visible in the reflection on his glasses. Nearly finished! Believe me, I'm counting down the seconds. I'll collect the shopping. I love you more than you know.

One.

Finally released from the dull corset of gainful employment, Kento flopped to the sofa beside you, carefully stopping his glass from sloshing over himself. You undid his tie. He untucked his shirt. You snuggled your pyjama'd self under his heavy, strong arm; he groaned in satisfaction, slipping warm fingers under your top to stroke the soft plush of your waist. You basked in the quiet warmth of each others' company, each of you being the home of the other. No need to talk.

Two.

You heard the faint shhhhhk-clink of bottles being closed, and put away. Kento returned this time in check pyjama bottoms, wearing nothing else but a glass of whiskey. He swirled it at you. Ugh, nail polish remover, you teased. Uncultured swine, Kento teased back, all but finishing his glass in one thirsty swallow. You smiled, hesitating only briefly. Come on, you need food more than drink, you joked lightly, the truth leaving a bitter aftertaste. I wouldn't be so sure, he retaliated, too far down the path to see from where he had entered.

Three. Four.

Cheese, bread and charcuterie; the lazy dinner of two people who were too tired to question the expense, washed down far too easily by more whiskey. You had nursed one glass of wine all evening; the whiskey bottle now sat beside the crackers, easier than getting up and down to the kitchen again, and again, and again.

Five. Six. Seven. Eight.

Kento was pliable, made supple and languid by his amber tonic. His kisses grew deep and earthy, lips hot with rising fumes, blessedly relieved as divine relaxation thrummed through his body, revelling in the Dionysian pleasure he had craved all day. God, you're so beautiful, he whispered, mead-sweet and intoxicating against your throat. You squirmed beneath his tongue, your arousal wildly overridden by concern, the words you needed to say stuck to the roof of your mouth. Kento mistook your squirming as the result of his successful advances, and he leaned into you, caging you down against the sofa pillows as he pressed against you, hardening against your leg through the thin fabric of his check pyjamas, hand creeping up to idly squeeze the pebbling peak of your breast. The pleasure darted through you, toxic, unwelcome--

"Stop, Kento-- I-- I can't--" Kento stopped immediately, unfazed by your refusal, but concerned by the anxiety seeping out of you. He kissed you softly on the forehead, carefully releasing you from under his arms, wordlessly reassuring you he loved you no less.

"I'm sorry," he apologised, sincere, affectionate, "we don't have to do any--"

"No, we do," you stuttered, sitting up, determined but twisting inside with the foul taste of approaching confrontation, "I mean, I-- I do. I need to. There's-- something I need to talk to you about," you finished weakly. Kento was all patience, his silence inviting, ready to be your therapist.

"Do you...are you...have you noticed quite how much you drink?"

Half a heartbeat passed with the barest flick of antagonism across Kento's eyes, and he smiled, handsome and disarming.

"I wouldn't say it's all that much," he laughed softly, plaiting his fingers through yours, raising your hand to kiss against his lips, "Far less than--"

"Eight. This evening alone."

Kento flinched, shoulders tensing, body turning slightly away from you as his lips curled in disgust.

"I'm not drunk," he spat, on-the-spot. He swallowed, hand squeezing yours, smiling again to steer the ship another way, any way other than this, and repeated, calmer, "I'm not drunk. I'm...I'm just having a couple, it's been a long day and I--"

"But you should be drunk," you cried, the dam breaking now as tears pricked in your eyes, "eight drinks Kento. And not small drinks. That bottle was full, and now-- now..."

You saw Kento's eyes flick to the bottle, almost empty, shame swirling behind the furious glaze of his usually warm brown eyes, now cold, angry. He had let go of your hand, distancing himself from you as he turned, elbows set heavily on his knees as he leaned away. The lump in your throat thickened, and you moved quickly to him, hands gripping his forearm in desperate reassurance, trying to bring him to you.

"Look I-- it's not your fault," you pressed, sensing him drifting further away as his forearm tensed under your fingers, his eyes still a maelstrom of denial, shame, anger, disgust, "It's easy to let it get on top of you, I can help you--"

Kento stood, throwing your hands off his arm, beginning to tidy the remnants of dinner with shaking hands, trying and failing to remove himself from the conversation as you followed, still impeaching him to listen--

"How about you back off and mind your own business?" Kento spat, spinning and turning on you suddenly, and you felt a flash of fear as you stepped back, involuntarily raising your hands up. Kento stepped back sharply, eyes softening in tearful apology, his shame now rising like bile in his chest. He struggled for words, unable to process the deep exposure of you noticing his failings.

"You're right," you stuttered, tears pouring down your cheeks and raising your hands to placate Kento, who felt his heart breaking, silently listening to you reassure him, "I shouldn't have-- I didn't mean to--"

Kento was trapped, alone on his little island now. He watched his ship drift away as he slowly backed down, walking away to the bathroom. You implored him to come to bed; he took himself to the sofa, overwhelmed in his certainty that you deserved better than some pathetic drunk who frightened her.

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You barely functioned the next day. You and Kento never went to bed on an argument. Kento never raised his voice at you. Kento never shied away from resolving issues between you. You caught yourself performing your chores and tasks on autopilot, the events of the night before flickering across your vision like old film reel left to run, and you burst into quiet tears in soft sobbing patches throughout the day.

Yet, despite your regret for the argument, you could not regret acting in Kento's best interests. You reached the morbid conclusion that his health was more important to you than the sanctity of your relationship.

Curling on the sofa, phone in hand, you began to research, pausing tearfully to make scribbles in a notepad every few minutes.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

Nanami Kento never asked for help. Nanami Kento never offloaded his own issues to someone else. Nanami Kento never outsourced his duties.

He surprised himself, that day, by doing all three.

+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+

When the door clicked open again that evening, you were taut as a coiled spring, adrenaline thumping through you, and you held your notepad like a shield. Kento's voice called, but the noise glossed past your ears that pulsed, hot, with the whoosh of your own heartbeat. Your spit was thick in your mouth as Kento came into the kitchen. Your eyes caught; you opened your mouth wordlessly, your meticulously planned speech snagging on doubt. As Kento opened his mouth to talk, you interrupted in a frantic flurry.

"I know you don't think that your drinking is a problem, and I know you want me to stop, but you're so much more important to me than that, and if you hate me after this then that's fine but--" you approached him, notebook outstretched, all carefully written details of support groups, therapists, specialist doctors--

"You're right."

You faltered, notebook lowering, as Kento stood in front of you, suddenly shrinking, small, exposed. Your heart tugged painfully as his gentle smile tried to reassure you through the thickets.

Kento gulped, forcing down the viscerally angry reaction to his shame, "I...I think it started after-- after Yuu was killed-- or possibly even before that. A few drinks...helped me to sleep. We all self-medicated in one way or another. It was normal, honestly, considering the shit we had to--" Kento stopped, catching himself before he fell into the trap of excuses. His lip curled again, awash in mortification and vulnerability and--

-- and before him, still, there you were. You, who had loved him enough to risk your own happiness for his health. You, who had spent your day, even after his abhorrent behaviour, looking for ways to help him. You, who looked up at him now with so much love and sadness that he felt his grief and stress and shame and desperation rise up in him all at once, and he coughed, gulping as tears slid down his cheeks, staring at the floor, feeling so stranded in these strange woods.

"I'm so sorry I-- I scared you, and I-- I..."

"Oh no, Kento, no, it's okay, it's okay, we'll be okay, we can get you through this--" You pulled him to you, holding him as he wept quietly into your neck, and you stroked the weight of the world off his broad shoulders. We. Kento hiccuped, crying harder as his hands shook against you, holding onto you, his lifeline.

"Please help me," he begged, hiding his face in your neck, "I don't know where to-- I dont know how to--" You nodded against him, already prepared, and sickeningly relieved that he would let you help, and you stroked his hair, shushing him as his tears slowed, his irregular breaths heavy and hot against you.

Pulling away, you swiped your thumbs across his face, wiping away tears, holding his cheeks tenderly as you planted a wet kiss to his lips. Kento chuckled, sniffing and tear-stained, letting you sprinkle kisses over his cheeks.

"I couldn't...I couldn't face work today," Kento sniffed, leading you to the sofa where you made him lay his head on your lap, your fingers still inching tender trails through his hair, "I asked Ino to take my missions." Kento's voice was tight, embarrassed at having asked for a friend to relieve him of his duties.

"Which I'm sure he was delighted to do, Kento," you pressed, "you don't know how loved you are...not only by me." Kento gulped again, grumbling at you as you shushed him.

"Your life can be better than anything you can find at the bottom of a bottle of whiskey, Kento," you promised, to his uncertain frown, "you'll be able to sleep without it, cope without it, and live happily without it."

Kento nodded, sighing, gripped with writhing fear at the journey ahead-- but, you had come to his island, fearless in your little boat, and he climbed aboard with the sweet relief of a castaway finally able to sail for home.

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#jjk #kento nanami #jjk nanami #kento nanami x you #nanami fluff #jujustu kaisen #kento nanami x y/n #kento nanami x reader #jjk fluff #kento nanami angst #nanami angst

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mistressmxggot · 10 days ago

Text

Chapter 2- ✰ Jackpot ✰

"𝗬𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗺𝗼𝘂𝘁𝗵 𝗳𝗲𝗹𝘁 𝗱𝗿𝘆.

"𝗘𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗿𝘁𝗮𝗶𝗻 𝗮 𝗴𝘂𝗲𝘀𝘁...𝗵𝗼𝘄? 𝗔𝗻𝗱 𝘄𝗵𝗼 𝗶𝘀 𝗶𝘁?"

𝗠𝗮𝗹𝗶𝗸'𝘀 𝗲𝘆𝗲𝘀 𝘄𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝗳𝗶𝗹𝗹𝗲𝗱 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝗺𝗶𝘀𝗰𝗵𝗲𝗶𝗳. "𝗚𝘂𝗲𝘀𝘀 𝘄𝗵𝗼."

"𝗠𝗮𝗹𝗶𝗸 𝗷𝘂𝘀𝘁 𝘁𝗲𝗹𝗹 𝗺𝗲."

𝗬𝗼𝘂 𝗳𝗲𝗹𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗯𝗹𝗼𝗼𝗱 𝗱𝗿𝗮𝗶𝗻 𝗳𝗿𝗼𝗺 𝘆𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗳𝗮𝗰𝗲 𝗮𝘀 𝗵𝗲 𝘀𝗽𝗼𝗸𝗲."

Tags: Oral, stripping, brothels, abuse, smoking, drinking, gambling, use of homophobic slur, noncon groping

~What a pretty little thing. Something about that girl made her skin prickle, or it could be the boy's face stuffed into her crotch. She twirled her fingers around his bronze hair, pushing her core further into his mouth. She sighed loudly. This was annoying her. "Suck. Harder," she barked. His soaked mouth sucked hard onto her clit, his jaw clenching in discomfort. He proceeded, ignoring the ache. She exhaled, mouth turning up in satisfaction. Her high started slowly, moving up her hips and stomach, into her breasts, ending on the back of her scalp. She moaned deep, thighs slightly shaking as her juices spilled onto the boy's chin. He continued to suck until she lifted his head herself. She rested her head on the arm of the couch. With her cunt empty and her head clear, it came to her just exactly what to do. A smirk creeped onto her face. This would be her outlet to gratify her fancy. Jackpot.

You'd never get used to dancing all through the night. How many fucking times did you have to work out for your body to finally get used to it?

Your alarm joined your body in yelling at you. You groaned, wanting to strangle the life out of that alarm. 10:00 a.m. It was time to get up. Your feeble three room apartment wasn't going to clean and fill itself.

Go shopping. Clean the entire apartment. Do laundry. Shower. Go see Malik. Was your day off even a day off?

Your hands roamed over your body, massaging every sore and screaming muscle you could reach. Attempting to stand wasn't a thought you wanted to approach. The alarm still beeped, reminding you of every errand and task you had to do today.

"Alright I get it!" You yelled back at the alarm, reaching for the off button.

You exhaled in relief, using all the strength you had to stand up. Pole dancing always affected your legs the most. The pain was annoyingly bad today, for whatever reason. Life just liked to cause you problems sometimes. No, all the time. Nothing would ever beat how bad your body burned after dancing.

You glanced at your full laundry hamper, approaching it. Laundry was the first to get done, of course not without problems. You lost a few socks, then spilled the detergent, then realized you forgot to separate the laundry into whites and colors. Today was already kicking your ass. A hot shower would help your mind and body. Gosh you needed to go shopping. The little soap you had could get you by at least.

You began to dry yourself, finally putting on some lotion. Don't moisturize before stripping unless you want to break every bone in your body.

Your routine finished with dressing and and tidying the bathroom. Shopping went by relatively fast. Now you weren't going to think about the guy who looked at your shopping bags a little too long. Oh Zaun. Another day in paradise.

The clock read 6:11 p.m., letting you know it was time to head to The Last Drop. Malik would be expecting you. He said he liked to keep an eye on you, just for your "safety". You knew that wasn't true. He knew that wasn't true. His smirk always told the truth. He liked to tell everyone around him that you were his.

Unfortunately you were. His property that made him his money. At least he did protect you, well in the ways he thought necessary.

Your space was mostly tidy. Your kitchen was clean and filled with food. That made you happy. You had to enjoy the little things, the things many others around Zaun didn't have. Thoughts of Piltover began resurface. Did topside have homeless, starving addicts like Zaun did? You assumed that had to, to make yourself feel better. Fucking topside. All their uptight, pretty bullshit. Their pretty counselors and pretty buildings and pretty celebrations. You had to get out this apartment.

The neon green lights of The Last Drop shone down onto your face, loud music blasting from the inside. You decided on wearing something not so revealing. A black, off-the-shoulder sweater with simple blue jeans. Working as a stripper, you were practically naked all the time. You deserved to not feel exposed, even if Malik always knew just how to make you uncomfortable. Gosh, everything about him was so unlikeable.

The men by the door grinned as you approached.

"Hey long time no see. We've missed seein' your pretty face." The man to the right of you snickered as he stared at you.

His scruffy beard covered most of his face. His face was soft and round, giving a pleasant appearance. His eyes didn't reflect the same softness of his face. You internally coiled. It seems you simply couldn't escape preying eyes. You and your amazing personality were simply just so charming that everyone wanted you! Weren't you just so lucky?

"Malik just arrived not to long ago." The man on the left leaned into you.

He was freakishly tall. His limbs and face seemed to go on forever. Piercing grey eyes stared at you, completely unblinking. He almost looked dead. It sent a shiver down your spine, and not the good kind.

You smiled to the best of your ability. "Thank you. I'll be seeing him now."

You looked back and forth at both men. You were trying your best to seem friendly, but they were terrifying. The more you looked at them, the more ugly and vicious they became. Slithering in-between them, you kept your eyes glued onto the ground. You could feel their eyes still watching you.

You pushed the heavy doors open, loud music blasting. The bass assaulted your ears, feeling as if it was punching and kneading your brain. Multicolored lights swung to different areas of the building, lighting up the different faces around. The smell of liquor and smoke surrounded you. It was a party in here tonight, and all you wanted to do is go back to bed.

You pushed through the sweaty mob of bodies, trying to ignore the constant stickiness colliding with your hands.

Towards the back the building, Malik and his men surrounded a table. Sevika sat opposite of him, a grin plastered on her face. Malik held his head in one hand. He was losing of course. When was he ever winning? You warned him over and over, of course to no avail. He was so hard headed and foolish.

You approached him from behind, smiling as you rested your chin onto his shoulder. You peered at his cards.

"Are you losing?" Your smile grew, mocking him.

He sneered at you over his shoulder. "What the fuck do you think?"

You giggled, rubbing his temples. He shook your hands away.

"Not now I'm trying to focus."

You scoffed. "Just trying to help. You need to think, and your deck sucks."

"Do you ever shut the fuck up? You're not helping. Now do what you do best and sit down, shut up, and look pretty."

Your face dropped. You were just joking around. He got way to serious about these games. Sevika raised an eyebrow at you. You shrugged, walking over to her side of the table. Malik watched you, glaring.

"Now don't do anything stupid," He warned.

You rolled your eyes, causing his face to turn in irritation.

Sevika smiled at you. "Tragic isn't it?"

You looked at her deck and laughed. "Oh yes. Very."

Sitting down next to her, you watched everyone else at the table. It was like a humiliation ritual. Everyone's face were focused, all eyebrows knotted in worry. You shook your head. It happened everytime, and Malik always came back. Malik took a drink from his glass and cleared his throat.

"Y'know I spoke to Ms. Medarda..." he mumbled playfully.

The entire table gasped. Sevika slammed her fist down onto the table.

"Well I'll be damned! How? Why!?"

Malik's eyebrows raised. "Well I introduced myself to her and told her about my girls. Dont know if she's a dyke tho. 'Scuse me Sevika."

Sevika shook her head in disapproval. Your cheeks grew red.

"She was very dismissive, but she said somethin' about needing something new. Dont think the bitch heard a word i said." He rolled his eyes. "She was just as irritating and smug as you would think."

You gulped. "Wait.. so you told her about me?" Your hands felt sweaty.

Malik squinted his eyes at you. "No i didn't tell her about you. I told her I had dancers that she could use if she needed."

Your eyes met the floor. Lord knows she wasn't gonna use you, absolutely not. You didnt care what Malik said.

Sevika looked annoyed. "Something new, so she came to the Undercity? Does topside think this is some sort of charity?"

Malik choked on his drink. "Does topside think is the real question."

Sevika snickered. As you listened, you could understand Sevika's annoyance. This woman seemed like a real piece of work. You groaned at the thought. Everyone in Piltover was probably like that.

Sevika laid down her cards. "Game over!" She laughed at Malik, taking a puff of her blunt.

Malik closed his eyes, sighing. Your head sat on your hand lazily.

"I told you to think." You commented, shaking your head.

Malik's eyes bored into you.

"Get up," he barked at you.

Chuckling, you stood up. You made your way over to him. He grabbed your arm, yanking you towards the bathrooms. Don't joke around with Malik. You had forgotten. He was always on the edge of blowing up. He shoved you into the bathroom wall. Your head slightly thumped it.

"Now why the hell did I even bring you out here? You always seem to cause me problems."

You looked at him confused. "I- I was just joking. I didnt mean to make you angry. I'm sorry Malik."

Your eyes pleaded with him. His hands snaked into your hair. His fingers gripped it roughly, pulling at your scalp.

"You don't need to make jokes, you're not fucking funny. You're an annoying whore."

His face was too close to yours.

"You also keep getting too comfortable with Sevika. Any person that gives you some sort of attention and you're interested."

He looked around, sighing.

"You know maybe you'd actually get my dick hard if you didn't open your fucking mouth all of the time."

He removed his hand from your hair, aggressively pushing his hands under your sweater. You whimpered as he pressed his rough fingers into your skin, groping you. He growled, stepping back.

"Don't come out looking a mess. As stupid and annoying everyone knows you are, I don't want any bleeding hearts feeling bad for you. They think it's wrong for me to abuse my property." He laughed.

He pushed your head into the wall again before turning and stomping out the bathroom. You stood there, head hanging. Your scalp stung. Your stomach and breasts ached from his groping. You let a shaky breath, your chest feeling tight. He was always angry. You turned towards the mirror, holding down the wetness behind your eyes. You smoothed down your hair and adjusted your top. It's fine. Everything was fine. With a sigh, you left the bathroom.

Dressed and ready for another long night, you finished up stretching. The brothel was extremely busy again. Everyone still scurried around, murmuring to eachother. She couldn't be returning, that was impossible. She had to have better things to do. You pushed the thought of her away. It was showtime. Again.

The music was different today. You liked it, as it slowly built up. It had a deep, slow sound to it. You could really feel the dance with it on. You had another white outfit on, this time less sensual and more explicit. The top and bottoms were the same, this time paired with gold accented garner belts and thigh high stockings.

Calves gripping the pole, your hair hung with your head, upside down. You began to bend your leg down. You fell slowly into a split. Keeping your eyes closed, you arched your back. You gripped the pole as you raised your head up. Shivering, you felt that energy switch again. You opened your eyes.

She was here again. This time she was closer to the stage room, eyes staring right at you. Your breath got caught in your throat. She seemed relaxed enough. Her silver afro wasn't hidden this time. Her face and curls highlighted with the pink lights of the brothel. You had to admit, she looked gorgeous. Her strong jawline held her striking face, littered with scars. Golden eyes accented her plump red lips. The scars also covered her muscular body. You'd have to workout for years to achieve that physique. Despite her broad shoulders and muscles, her waist was slim and followed by thick long legs. You hope age does you as well as it did her.

Just finish your routine.

You hesitated before slipping off your bra. You didn't want her to see you, her gaze was way too intense.

Her demeanor changed as you removed your bra. You were unsure what she was thinking. This was way too much. Your hands were sweaty. Your heart was pounding. Relief came over you as she swiftly turned around, walking out of your sight.

You wiped the sweat from your hairline, finishing your glass of water. You would spend your break with Babette again.

Pushing the curtains open, you saw Malik there. You internally flinched.

"Just who I wanted to see! You're done stripping. We hit the goddamn jackpot tonight!"

Your raised a curious eyebrow at him. "What's going on?"

Babette looked beyond worried.

Malik was smiling from ear to ear. He bent down to grab something. He dropped a heavy gold bar onto the table. Your mouth dropped in shock.

"What?! How?! Where did you get this?"

Malik laughed out loud. "It was a special present. For you and me. You're going to be entertaining a very special guest tonight."

Your mouth felt dry.

"Entertain a guest...how? And who is it?"

Malik's eyes were filled with mischeif. "Guess who."

"Malik just tell me."

You felt the blood drain from your face as he spoke.

"Ambessa fucking Medarda."~

You. Always. Masterlist

Subtle foreshadowing.

Taglist: @maaaaaaaaaaari

Lmk to be added.

#ambessa medarda #arcane #arcane ambessa #ambessa #ambessa league of legends #ambessa x reader #ambessa medarda x reader #ambessa smut #ambessa x you #arcane fanfic #fanfic

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dizzyjelly · 2 years ago

Text

Kryptonite(18+)

Word Count: 4.2k

Summary: ellie hated everyone, except you. You go out to the bar one night and some guy bothers you, she punched his ass ofc. You get into a small fight but then you guys go back to her place and things get freaky;)

Cw: fighting, drinking, smut, strap-on sucking, strap-on sex, scissoring, rough sex, degrading, praising, spanking, the tiniest bit of overstimulation

A/n: ooh this is seriously dirtyyy! 😭 sorry if I missed any content warnings but I really think that's all. Also, I've been going back to my previous fics and rereading and I just now realize I misspell so much and like forget words, so I'm sorry for all my grammar fuck ups lmao

Ellie Williams was many things, but nice was not one of them. People usually tried to steer clear of her, knowing her mood was negative more often than not. But of course, there was the occasional time when somebody made the mistake of trying to be friendly with her. It typically ended with Ellie cursing them out, or insulting them somehow. And then you'd come around, always calming her down and putting a smile on her face.

Everybody found it odd, from the minute you'd been welcomed to Jackson, Ellie was always so sweet to you. It honestly had jaw dropping, everyone was shocked to say the least. On top of that, it made no sense. I mean, some random girl comes into town and she just happened to be Ellie Williams kryptonite? Absolutely zero sense.

Nobody dared to question it though, and anytime they did Ellie had a lot to say. The main point she'd give was that it was simply 'none of their fucking business', among other things. You, yourself, found it a bit odd. You'd heard stories about Ellie from various people around town, and it was hard to believe she could be so harsh and mean. Was she really as cruel as they'd said? You'd never know, because she was nothing but kind to you.

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

After deciding to get ballsy on patrol, Ellie was sentenced to the unbearable punishment of laundry duty for a week. The only good part of it being that she got to see you, you had been a clothing designer before all this apocalypse shit happened so you knew a lot about clothing. This being the reason for your permanent work assignment staying laundry duty, you'd requested that it be permanent. Maria had no issue doing thst for you, and you were beyond thankful. You and no interest in getting yourself into any kind of danger, doing patrol or something else.

Currently, Ellie was trying to figure out what the hell she was supposed to do with the laundry detergent. She looked at the various bottles, grabbing then to read the instructions on the back. After a minute of trying to comprehend what she was meant to do, she let out a frustrated sigh before slamming the yellow bottle back in its place on the shelf.

"I could help you out, you know?" A brunette boy suggested with a sweet smile, he was younger and very clearly meant no harm.

"Fuck off" She scoffed harshly, "I don't need your help." Her tone was aggressive as she walked back over to the baskets of clothing.

She decided to sort them by color instead, that was something she was capable of. Five minutes or so passed and you came in, late. Very unusual for you, you were one of those people who was either early or on time. But late, you were never late. Ellie's face immediately lit up when she saw you, she smiled from ear to ear as she ran over to pull you in for a hug.

"Oh, hi" You laughed, wrapping your own arms around the girl, "somebody missed me." You joked.

"Shut up" She smirked at you, rolling her eyes, "why are you late? You're never late." She asked, a hint of worry in her tone.

"Um, I was just talking to Gavin, guess I got caught up." Your cheeks flushed red, Gavin was the guy you had a crush on for weeks now.

Ellie couldn't wrap her head around why, he was such a dick. Not that you'd be able to figure that out by the way he acted. He pretended to be a nice, caring guy. But he wasn't either of those things. And since he had you in a chokehold, for some unknown reason, you'd have to find that out the hard way. Ellie tried to tell you, relaying stories she'd heard from friends who'd been with him. But you were just lovesick.

"Oh, k." Her smile dropped now, and she spoke monotonly as she had no interest in why you were so busy talking with Gavin.

You furrowed your brows slightly at her sudden change in demeanor, but ultimately you ignored it. Smiling, you walked over to greet Samuel, the brunette boy who'd usually help you out with laundry.

"Good afternoon, Samuel! How are you today?" You asked, but he seemed kinda down.

He hadn't given you an answer, just shrugged, so you walked over to him and asked what was up. He motioned for you to lean in, so that he could whisper in your ear. Samuel told you about how Ellie had told him to 'fuck off.' And you let out a dramatic gasp.

"Ellie Williams! Did you tell my sweet bo Samuel to fuck off?" You asked sternly, hands on you hips as you made your way over to the girl.

She bit her lip, her cheeks flushed red as she knew she'd been caught.

"Maybe... I'm sorry!" She apologized with a frown, looking at you with pleading eyes.

"Do not talk to my sweet little helper that way, he's my friend." You scolded her just a bit more, and she nodded in understanding.

"Oh, hey could you help me with the detergent? I'm not really sure what to use." She asked you, pointing her thumb in the direction of the shelf filled with various laundry detergents.

"Yes, if you promise to be nicer to my dear friend Samuel." You raised your brows.

"Promise..." She smiled with a playful eye roll.

You proceeded to help her with the detergent, making sure she'd remember for next time. Ellie would continue her work duties, bored out of her mind as she prayed to be let back onto patrol early for good behavior. At a certain point in the day, she'd just be eyeing the clock, counting down the hours until she could finally be free from this torture. You, however, didn't mind the job one bit. It actually brought you joy, helped you to relax even. It reminded you of the days before.. everything.

Once it did fall time to clock out, Ellie was quick to rush out of the laundry area, waiting for you outside. You'd chuckle to yourself and shake your head, she was so dramatic. On your way out, you waved a goodbye to Samuel then smiled as you found Ellie leaning against the wall with her arms crossed.

"Hey, wanna go to the bar?" She asked with a cheeky smile.

You sighed through your nose, hesitant as Ellie was a terrible drunk.

"Fine. But Ellie, please don't get too drunk." You asked, taking her hands in your own.

"Ok... come on." She smiled as she held your hand and walked the two of you to the bar.

Once you got there, you took seats at the bar and Ellie ordered for the both of you. Alcohol wasn't really your thing, but she seemed to know her way around it pretty well. And you trusted her, which was a good choice because when you took a sip of your drink it was absolutely delicious. After another drink and the passing of some time, Gavin had made an appearance.

You saw him and a smile spread across your face, your eyes lit up and your knees felt weak. Ellie took notice to your mood change, following your eyes to see the man himself. She rolled her eyes and let out a small groan as she rested her head in her hand. You turned back around, sipping from your drink and trying to act cool. Then, Gavin had come to sit beside you.

"Hey Y/n, how you doing?" He greeted, the sound of his voice had you giggling.

"Hi, I'm good. How are you?" You asked in return, playing with your hair a bit.

"Oh I'm doing just great. Who's your friend?" He asked, gesturing to Ellie who was now on her third drink.

You sucked in a breath through clenched teeth.

"Oh, this is-" Ellie had cut you off.

"I'm Ellie." She answered him with a harsh tone.

"Well, nice to meet ya Ellie" Gavins voice trailed off as he looked at the door, "I've gotta go." He sent a little wave your way.

You waved back with furrowed brows, then frowned as he was meeting a girl who just walked in. She was pretty, long blonde hair and a striking figure. You sighed, dropping your head down on the bar with a groan. Ellie sighed.

"What's wrong?" She asked in a soft tone, bringing a hand to rub up and down your back soothingly.

"I'm a fucking idiot." Was all you muttered, not picking your head up until a minute later.

You turned around and honestly felt like you could cry when you saw the two of then dancing together, he had his hands on her waist and pulled her unbelievably closer. She laughed as her hands wrapped around the back of his neck. You turned back to look at Ellie, the pout on your face more evident than anything.

"Oh, come on, he's an asshole anyways" Ellie rolled her eyes, glancing over at the dancing pair, then she stood and reached out a hand, "come on baby, dance with me."

You smiled, placing your hand in hers and letting out a small laugh as she pulled you to stand with her. At first, you just held hands and bounced around to some faster songs. But then about two songs later, a slower song came on. Your cheeks flushed red and you took a step back, only for Ellie to snake a hand around your waist and pull you closer.

"Ellie.. what are you doing?" You whispered as she held your waist and pulled you in tight, so that you were practically hugging.

"Dancing." She whispered in return.

You giggled and brought your arms around her shoulders, leaning in so your head rested on one of them. Ellie smiled as her eyes fell shut, your perfume greeting her kindly. You sighed as you relaxed under her touch, nobody could make you feel the way she did. Her hands found their way to your lower back, rubbing small circles onto it. You'd nuzzle your face in her neck, smiling as you brought your hands to play with her hair.

"Fuck Y/n.." Ellie groaned under her breath.

You giggled, lifting your head to meet her eyes. She looked at you like you were the only girl in the world. You looked down at your feet, then back at her. Your breath hitched as your eyes couldn't seem to focus on hers anymore, but rather on her slightly chapped lips. She had to have noticed because a smirk slowly formed on her face. Before you'd do anything you would regret, you stepped back from her. The loss of her touch left you feeling empty, but you would ignore it and just smile as you excused yourself.

"I have to use the bathroom." You simply said, and she took a seat at the bar once again as you made your way to the restroom.

You didn't actually have to go, so instead you washed your hands underneath cold water. And you splashed some on your face for good measure, you'd been getting unbelievably hot during your dance with Ellie. Once you could no longer feel your heart beating in your ears, you left the bathroom to return to Ellie. Unfortunately, there had been someone waiting for you outside.

"Hey, you know you look really good tonight." Gavin spoke smugly as he leaned against the wall.

"Yeah? Thanks." You scoffed, "shouldn't you be getting back to your date?" You spoke matter of factly, trying to push past him.

Your efforts didn't get you much of anywhere, his hand now finding a tight grip on your forearm while the other went to hold your face. You rolled your eyes with a frustrated sigh.

"Ok, come on Gavin I'm really not in the mood." You spoke coldly, willing him to just take the hint and leave you alone.

He tsked, leaning down to whisper in your ear,

"Come on angel, just let me show you a good time." You shuddered at his words, disgusted.

That was your last straw and you found the energy to shove him off of you and into the wall with a hard thud. Then, you saw Ellie turning the corner, her fists balled at her sides as her brows knitted together with anger.

"The fucks going on here?" She asked gruffly.

"Ellie, it's nothing. I'm fine." You placed a hand on her chest, trying to convince her.

Of course it didn't work because the next thing you knew you were watching as she punched Gavin so hard he'd fallen over. Her knuckles were red, and his face began to bruise.

"Ellie!" You screamed as your hands went over your mouth in shock.

Before she could get any other hits in, you'd held her by her shoulders as you dragged her outside. She yelled at the poor guy the entire time. Sending a good amount of threats his way.

"What is wrong with you!" You shouted at the girl as the two of you now stood outside in the chilly night.

"Me? He deserved it and you know it!" She'd shouted back, gesturing with her hands, something she did often when she was angry.

"Yeah maybe, but still! You can't just go around punching every guy that bothers me, I can take care of myself you know?" Your hands were on your hips.

"Oh god, this again? I can't keep having this fucking conversation with you, Y/n!" She gritted her teeth.

"What conversation? The one where I have to constantly remind you that I'm a full grown adult, and I am entirely capable of taking care of and defening myself? I mean seriously Ellie, what's the problem? Do you think that I can't take care of myself?" You asked with a frustrated sigh.

"What, no! Of course I know you can, but I just- I care about you a lot and you shouldn't have to take care of yourself. It makes me feel good to defend you, I don't know why it just does. And I'm... sorry." Sge struggled to get the apology out.

"It's ok. Let's just go home, sleep it off." Your suggestion sounded good, but Ellie stopped you with a hand on your wrist.

"Wait." You looked at her with questioning eyes, wondering what else she had to say.

Turns out, she didn't have anything to say. Instead, she had brought one hand to your waist and the other to the back of your neck. She bit her lip, her eyes flickering between your own and your lips. After a minute or so had passed, she just couldn't resist. She pulled you in and connected her lips with yours, kissing you like it was the end of the world.

"Ellie~" You whined as you parted from the kiss for a moment, immediately diving back in.

This time, you pressed your tongue to her bottom lip. And she gladly let you in, opening her mouth wide so she could taste your tongue on hers. It was something from another world, you'd felt dizzy and giddy, and there was something else too. There was this heat between your legs, it almost hurt. You whimpered into her mouth at the unfamiliar feeling.

"What's wrong baby?" She asked, her forehead resting against yours.

"I don't know, 's all achy down there." You admitted, embarrassed as you'd only dare to stare down at her shoes.

Ellie let out a sinful chuckle,

"Well, I think I could help with that." She gave you one last kiss before taking you to her house.

You stood in her living room, your hand coming to scratch the back of your neck awkwardly as she rushed upstairs to grab 'a little something special' from her room. You'd wondered what she could be grabbing, but not for long as she returned swiftly without her bottoms now and a large black strap tightened around her hips. Your eyes widened at the sight of it, and you knew you wanted it inside of you. Your mouth watered at just the thought of her fucking your brains out.

She walked over to you with a smirk, pulling you in for yet another kiss. You smiled into it, letting out small moans here and there as the taste of her tongue felt so good against your own. You'd sighed as she pulled your top off, now placing kisses along your jaw and neck. It wasn't long before she was placing feather light kisses to the top of your boobs, then palming them roughly as she watched your face contort with pleasure.

"Get on your knees." She ordered after a minute, and you were quick to oblige.

Getting down on the floor, you looked up at Ellie with lustful eyes. She grabbed a fistful of your hair, taking a step closer to you as she held her strap in the other hand. You licked your lips before chewing slightly at your bottom one.

"Open that pretty little mouth of yours for me baby." She cooed, her hand tightening in your hair as you'd opened wide.

She chuckled as she pushed her cock into your mouth, watching with nothing but joy as she shoved it as far as it could go. You'd gagged, unable to help it, then you let out a small whimper which was muffled by her large cock. She groaned at this, tugging your hair a bit, which brought a lengthy moan from your lips.

"Fuck baby, look at you being a good little slut. Taking my cock down your throat so well. Good girl." The praise she'd given you had gotten you even wetter, if that was even possible.

Ellie would continue to move your head up and down for a bit longer until she was satisfied, carefully she removed her hand from your hair and let you pull back. Your lips left her cock with a satisfying pop sound and she smiled sinfully as she pulled you to stand. She brought a hand to your chin, wiping your saliva that had dripped down your chin while you were kept busy deep-throating her.

She'd snaked her hands around you now, gripping at your ass before giving it a harsh smack that made your body jolt with pleasure and excitement. Another kiss was brought to your lips by her, but not for long as you'd pulled away quickly.

"Ellie, please." You whimpered, she only let out a small chuckle.

"Please what? Use your words baby." She kept a finger under your chin.

"Please," another moan, "fuck me. Fuck me good and hard, please I need you." You were begging shamelessly now, and she loved it.

"Well, aren't you cute. Your wish is my command, princess." She smiled as she backed you up to the couch, lying down before pulling you on top of her.

You sat straddling her for a minute, she rubbed your thighs with her hands soothingly before ridding you of both your jeans and panties in just one motion. You bit your lip as she held your hips, lifting you so the head of her strap just grazed your dripping hole. She'd continue to tease you for what felt like ages, before you just couldn't take it anymore so you'd taken it upon yourself to lower down onto her cock. You threw your head back with a loud, pornagraphic moan as you felt the burning stretch inside of you.

Ellie scoffed,

"Did I say you could do that? Eager little slut, you're gonna regret that." She groaned as you continued making the sweetest sounds as she gripped your hips harder.

She'd waste no time, immediately thrusting into you roughly and at a fast pace that had your head spinning. Occasionally, she'd bring a hand up from your hip to place a firm smack against your ass, in the same spot every time. You were sure there'd be a mark, but you didn't care because it felt so fucking good. Then, she'd angled herself just ever so slightly differently and began to hit a spot that you didn't even know existed.

"Oh, oh god! Fuck yes, right there Ellie. Fuckk." You moaned as you called out her name, your hands finding their way to her chest as you began to grind your hips down against her.

"Oh yeah, you like that slut?" She asked, using the rather vulgar name that only got you hotter.

You nodded, feeling as if your vision went hot white at the pleasure you were feeling. It was so phenomenal, you almost thought you mightve been dreaming. But then, she stopped and held your hips tightly so you couldn't move an inch.

"Fucking answer me." She commanded.

"Yes yes. Yes I love it. Please keep going. Please." You whimpered, tears welling in your eyes.

"That's my girl." She smiled as she resumed her rough thrusts, loosening her grip on your hips so you could rut against her as well.

She bit back a moan as the strap had been hitting against her clit just right, that and the sight of you was more than enough to make her cum. The way your tits bounced underneath your scarlet red lace bra, and how beautiful your face looked as you moaned loudly. And oh the way you said her name was just so fucking sexy.

"Ellie- I'm gonna" your breath hitched with a gasp, "fuck 'm gonna cum." your moans got even louder somehow.

"Me too baby, come on cum with me. Come on baby." She'd finally let out a small moan and that sent you over the edge.

However you didn't just cum, you were gushing all over her beautifully long strap as well as her thighs. Ellie moaned louder at the sight of you squirting all over her cock, and then got her own release. She didn't stop pounding into you as she rode out her own high, and it didn't take long before you were feeling overstimulated. But you'd do anything to watch as her eyes squeezed shut with the pleasure of her orgasm.

"Mmn- fuck." She let out a small groan as she removed her cock from your hole, a small string of your slick connecting it still.

You let out a small sigh of exhaustion as you layed against her chest, smiling as her hands came to rub up and down your back. You lied there together for a minute or so before she finally spoke.

"Let's go to my room." She whispered, and you didn't say anything in return.

You'd just followed her upstairs and watched as she removed her strap, sitting on the bed and patting the spot next to her. You joined her and sat with your back against the headboard, leaning forward as she came to kiss you. You'd pulled at her shirt and giggled a bit as she ripped it off, revealing her black sports bra. Then, she'd used one hand to spread your legs before getting into position.

One of her legs straddled your hip, a hand on your shoulder and the other on your waist. Her eyes fell shut as she let out an airy moan when she'd ground her throbbing clit against your own, and you'd let out a similar sound.

"Fuck, baby. Your pussy feels so good against mine." She bit her lip, letting out more moans as she thrusted against you.

Sure, the way Ellie had pounded into you earlier was amazing and beyond pleasurable. But there was just something so euphoric about her sopping wet pussy gliding against your own. The feeling of your slicks mixing together just drove you insane. Apparently it had the same effect on Ellie because she was louder than ever, moaning and whimpering with great pleasure.

Your breath quickened as you felt yourself getting close again, and began to move your own hips against her as well. This made Ellie let out a guttural groan.

"Oh yeah, just like that baby." She said in an almost whisper, her eyes falling shut with pleasure.

And with a few more thrusts, the both of you reached yet another release. Now you weren't the only one making noise, Ellie was moaning while also letting out "thank you's and 'fuck's. After fully riding out your highs, Ellie lied down next to you. She brought a hand to wipe her forehead, it dribbled with sweat and her hair stuck to it a bit.

You felt your eyes vetting heavy, snuggling against Ellies side as you let them fall shut. She'd hold you for a minute before standing up.

"Don't fall asleep yet, baby. I wanna get you cleaned up first." She placed a kiss to your forehead, going to the bathroom then returning with a wet rag.

She wiped you down gently, placing soft kisses along your body on the way. Once she finished that, she'd given you a t-shirt of hers to wear to sleep. She climbed back into bed, pulling you to lay on her chest. You snuggled your head into the crook of her neck, bringing your hands to wrap around her shoulders.

"Goodnight Els." You said sleepily.

"Goodnight baby." She responded with a kiss on top of your head.

#ellie williams #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x y/n #ellie x reader #ellie x y/n #ellie williams smut #ellie williams x you #ellie x you #ellie smut #ellie x fem reader

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greenwitchfromthewoods · 2 months ago

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staring at you. l Frankie “Catfish” Morales

Summary: he saw her in a bar and then everything changed

Warnings: fluff, slow burn, two people are looking for each other

A/N: I've had this idea in my head for a few days now. I hope for a few chapters. I don't know if anyone will read this... if that's you, good luck.

your feedback is very important to me and I thank you for all the reblogs, comments and likes. 🖤 sorry for all the mistakes

chapter 1.

The first time he saw her was at the bar where he was with Benny and Will. It was a nice Friday night. The place was full of people having fun, pleasant music mixed with the buzz of conversation and laughter, and Frankie was sitting at the bar slowly finishing his second beer.

The feeling that he was being watched didn’t leave him, so he raised his eyes and looked around. At first he thought that Will might be looking for him in the crowd, although he had clearly told him where he would be.

And then, on the other side of the bar, he saw gentle eyes staring at him. For a moment he thought that she must have mistaken him for someone else. But when their eyes met, she smiled, and Frankie felt a pleasant tickle in his heart.

She raised her drink as if she was making a silent toast, and he did the same, without taking their eyes off each other, they finished their drinks.

The decision was quick, but not quick enough. The urge to approach her was overwhelming, but when he finally lifted his ass off the bar stool, another woman approached her, whispered something in her ear, and she quickly stood up.

One last look, and she disappeared into the crowd of people.

The second time he saw her was a few days later, in a local store. And this time, the universe wasn’t on Frankie's side.

His brain quickly registered a familiar face. After all, he had spent most of his last days thinking about this lovely stranger.

He completely ignored Benny, who wanted to buy a beer for Saturday's match, and, leaving him the cart, he set off after his target.

His eyes were devouring her figure, and the girl must have sensed that someone was staring at her. She turned around and spotted him almost immediately. A beautiful and sincere smile appeared on her face, as if she had seen a long-lost friend.

Frankie smiled too. He moved towards her, bypassing a family with small children and an old couple arguing over laundry detergent. But this time he failed too.

The girl answered the phone, grabbed her shopping and quickly headed for the exit. Before she was out of sight she turned around and found his gaze. Frankie saw a sad smile on her face, her lips moving in a silent "I'm sorry."

And she disappeared again.

After a week he spotted her in the city, but before he could react the traffic lights at the intersection changed color and the driver behind him started honking, urging him to move.

"Fuck!" he hissed, slamming his hand on the steering wheel.

It wasn't even a game of cat and mouse. It was more like catching smoke and Frankie found himself looking for her among other people almost all the time. To no avail.

"Does she even exist?" Benny asked when he finally told him about her.

"Of course she does!" Frankie mumbled, scratching his head and pulling his baseball cap back on. "I don't even know her name, but I can't stop thinking about her."

He didn't know her name. He knew nothing about her. All he had was a few exchanged glances, a few smiles. It was next to nothing, but it seemed to Frankie that that should be enough to find her. Right?

And then fate dealt him a good card for a moment. Or maybe he himself contributed to it. He took the same chair again in the same bar. Now alert. His gaze wandered over the faces of the guests and each time he straightened up when the door opened. The first hour passed, and then the second. When doubt slowly started to creep over his skin, that's when he saw her.

She must have entered when he blinked, because Frankie couldn't find any other explanation for it. She was talking to some girl, but her eyes wandered around the place as if she was looking for someone. Him?

Now Frankie didn't wait anymore, didn't hesitate. He immediately headed towards her, afraid that she would slip away from him again. She noticed him the moment she caught sight of him out of the corner of her eye, and her face lit up.

"Hi." was all he could manage.

"Hi." she replied, her voice sounding beautiful in his ears. "We should stop meeting like this."

"Yeah, a bit stressful." he laughed quietly.

He felt as if her eyes were devouring him and heat seeped into the back of his neck. No one had ever looked at him like that, it was even a little embarrassing.

Frankie wanted to say something, make a joke or ask if he could buy her a drink, but then a mischievous smile appeared on her lips.

In a second her hand was on the back of his neck as she pulled him closer. Her lips met his in a soft and sweet kiss. A few seconds during which his heart almost stopped beating.

When she pulled away from him she was still smiling.

"I had to, I'm sorry." she said.

"Jesus, don't apologize." he rasped in surprise. "I mean... We’ve already done this in my head." God! He would do anything for that smile. "Maybe I can buy you a drink?"

"I can't. I should probably go now..."

Something in her eyes changed, some small detail that Frankie noticed right away. He quickly pulled his phone out of his jeans pocket.

"Will you give me your number?"

She hesitated for a split second, but took his phone anyway.

"Just please don't give me the number of a mechanic or something." he snorted, and she shook her head. "Your real number?"

"Check."

She handed him the phone and Frankie dialed the number she had entered. A soft ring sounded in her purse. They both laughed.

"I'm Frankie, and you are?"

She gave him her name, and he repeated it quietly. It was a nice feeling, finally being able to name the being who had been living rent-free in his head for a long time.

He opened his mouth to say something when the phone in her purse rang again.

"Not me now," he joked, but she lifted her hand slightly and reached for her phone.

She was visibly worried as she read the message, and then looked around for her friend.

"I'll have to go now, Frankie." she said as she nodded to her friend “I wish I could stay longer, really.”

He could tell in her voice that she really meant it. He felt strangely sorry for her, he didn't know why.

"Maybe we could meet up?" he suggested.

"Will you text me?" she asked.

"Sure. If that's what you want..."

"Yes, please."

She squeezed his hand gently, smiled, and left.

☆☆☆☆

Thank you for your time.

#frankie catfish morales #frankie morales #pedro pascal #frankie morales x reader #triple frontier #joel miller

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jsprnt · 9 months ago

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Americano PT. 5 | Jude Bellingham x Reader

What happens if two individuals who absolutely despise each other are forced to interact after unforeseen events occur?

A/N: pff, this was a long one, enjoy babes. A heads up in advance, I’ll be taking a break in the first week of April due to my exams 🫶

W/C: 4.558

part four

"Come in here and bring your laundry hamper!"

"Just a second, dad!"

I jump out of bed, leaving my phone on the other end of it, and grab the pink hamper. I hold onto the handles tightly as I make my way out of my room.

I see him standing over the washing machine in the laundry room. I enter quickly, the both of us starting to sort out the dirty clothes and putting them in the machine accordingly.

"Did you finish packing?" My dad asks, glancing at me before grabbing the laundry detergent and fabric softener out of the cabinet above me.

"Yeah, just a couple basic things. It's like a 2-3 day trip."

He pours the blue liquid into the cap, checking the measurements before pouring it into the designated compartment. Doing the same thing with the fabric softener.

"Really? No fancy dress or anything?"

I look up from the washing machine, a sheepish smile forming on my face. I watch him shake his head in disbelief, a smile on his face as he turns the machine on.

"When I sent you abroad- I thought your aunt would raise you exactly like I would. But I forgot she probably raised you to love dressing up like her. You know, she used to terrorize me in my own room growing up, only because I had bigger windows and thus better lighting for when she did her makeup.." He shakes his head, chuckle leaving him as he reminisces.

I laugh at him, the smile on my face bigger now.

"I think packing something proper is very important. It worked out pretty well last Saturday when we went for dessert in Girona."

"Just stay safe when going out. It's a dangerous world, honey." He says, putting his hand on my shoulder.

I purse my lips at his words, remembering what had happened just a couple nights ago. He didn't know about the entire debacle, but since it was already dealt with, I didn't see a reason to bring it up.

"When are you getting up?"

"Not super early, like around eight? The match isn't until Tuesday, so no early flight."

"You know, it's almost twelve, right? Go to bed already, and don't go on your phone." He tuts, scolding me and pushing me towards my room.

"Alright, I'll go to bed."

"Goodnight, I love you." He says, kissing my forehead before he makes his way down the stairs.

"Love you too!" I shout as I watch him walk away while I stand in front of my bedroom door. The silence of the house surrounding me when I’m left alone.

The team had finally wrapped up training for the day. We had arrived in Napels that morning, and they had trained hard until late in the afternoon.

This left us with some free time for the rest of the day, until we had to prepare for the match tomorrow.

"You've been doing your makeup for about 40 minutes now." I hear Luis complain, lying flat on his back on top of my bed.

"I could be meeting my future Italian husband out there! Come on, let me look cute for tonight."

I darken up my eye makeup, coloring my waterline with a black pencil to contrast my white dress.

I then drench my face in setting spray, fanning it dry with a random brochure, I found on the nightstand.

"Besides, you're wrinkling your clothes, stand up. I can't have you looking bummy! What if you find yourself a pretty lady?" I wink, struggling to hold back a laugh at the unimpressed expression he sends me.

I finally stand up from the chair, smoothing down my dress in front of the mirror, and adjust the slit a little.

"We can go now!"

"Are you drinking?"

"No, not feeling it tonight." I mutter, eyeing the delicious-sounding food on the menu.

I look up, watching Luis flip through the menu.

"I'm going to order a pizza."

"Why pizza?" He asks, looking at me.

"We are practically in the birthplace of pizza. Are you judging me?" I ask, raising a brow at him.

"Just get it, I'm not judging you.." He raises his hands as if to surrender.

"You're so mean when you're hungry." He mumbles, closing his menu.

"Just appreciate the fact that I dragged you here. Look at how beautiful the view is.

I turn, admiring the view behind the glass panels of the restaurant. The Vesuvius mountain and the water are absolutely breathtaking, especially right now during sunset.

He sighs at me in agreement, looking around to find a waiter for us to finally order our food.

I watch him order for the both of us, getting distracted by the view, and turn towards him when the waiter leaves.

"If you get hammered, I'll leave you here.."

"So, now you want to find an Italian girlfriend?" I ask Luis bewildered, watching him walk - no stumble in front of me.

The drinks he ordered were good, so good he felt inclined to ordered multiple of them. I didn't keep count, but he definitely had more than his limit, which made him the drunk mess he was right now.

"Of course, you're my best friend. We should each find a person to marry!" He slurs, walking towards the docks.

I sigh deeply, looking down at my heels, before jogging up to him, clutching onto his shirt tightly.

"You're going to fall into the water!" I shout, trying to hold him back from the edge, but he shouts in protest.

"It's fine, maybe one of these hot people will save me from drowning."

Oh my god

I look up to where he's pointing, seeing a group of people on an expensive-looking catamaran. I'm way too distracted to realize my grip on Luis has loosened, and watch him leave. I see him greet the partying people loudly. I close my eyes in embarrassment, wanting to jump into the water out of shame.

Who even parties on a random Monday evening?

I surprisingly hear someone shout something in what sounds like Italian. I turn my head, eyes searching as I turn my attention to the person.

My eyes meet the eyes of a tall, brown-eyed, beautifully sun-kissed man. His blue linen shirt halfway unbuttoned.

He looked like, and definitely is trouble.

I hear him say something again, and my eyes widen when they go back to Luis, who looks like he's having the time of his life with two girls.

"English?" I hear the beautiful stranger ask.

I nod, watching him walk towards the dock and then, interestingly enough, reach for my hand.

I would never leave Luis alone on this boat full of strangers. Therefore, I reluctantly grab the guy's hand as he pulls me onto the boat.

"Hi?" I greet, raising a brow. Quickly smoothing my dress down.

"Hello, and your name is?" He asks, eyes roaming up and down my body, definitely checking me out. The Aussie accent practically melting me on the spot, making it difficult for my jaw to stay closed.

He was the definition of trouble.

But I needed to get my mess of a friend off this damn boat and leave.

"y/n, yours?" I ask, pretending to be more interested than I am, sneakily glancing at Luis.

"I'm Chris. You're not from here, are you?"

Obviously not

"No, I'm actually from Valencia."

A white lie, he didn't have to know anything about me.

"Valencia, Spain? What are you and your friend doing here?"

"Visiting, for fun." I lie again, giving him a smile.

"Really? Having fun so far?" He smiles, his pearly white teeth blinding me.

"Yeah, a lot of fun." I reply, my brows raising in fake interest.

I watch him chuckle, his plump lips curling up. His arm going up to run a hand through his blonde locks.

"Care for a drink, then?"

As beautiful as this man was, I wasn't naive enough to accept a drink from him. Especially, since we were in a totally different country.

"I'm fine, actually. I'm leaving tomorrow, so I'm trying to not drink as much."

"Oh, you probably came to watch the Champions League game then?"

Got me, kind of.

I immediately pull a sour face, pretending to be disgusted.

"Of course not, I have better things to do than attend a Real Madrid match. If it wasn't for Valencia, I'd be for Barcelona anyway.."

That one physically hurt to say.

"Oh- don't get mad now." He teases, putting his hands up, his smile getting wider.

I had to leave hastily, at least before this man got me into his bed.

"You're fine. I'm just trying to get my friend and leave. You alright with that?"

"Let me get your number first. Don't think I'll forget you after tonight." He says, handing me his phone.

I was curving the man left and right, and he still wanted my number?

"I don't really give out my number. But I can give you my Instagram handle?"

"That's fine." He says, clicking on his Instagram.

I watch his screen, my eyes accidentally catching the number of girls on his explore page.

No way, this man was looking for something serious.

"Oh, I'll type it in. If that's alright?" I say, reaching for his phone. He nods, handing me the device.

I quickly type in my username, pressing follow.

To snoop a little further, I go back to the explore page, seeing more ass and boobs than I had prepared for. Pretending to be unfazed as I clear the Instagram tab and hand his phone back to him.

I mean, their bodies were amazing, but why the hell was he following them?

"That's it. Here you go. My phone is dead, so I'll talk to you later?" I say, fidgeting with my handbag. My social battery was dying even faster than normal tonight.

I watch him nod, his eyes on me, as I immediately make my way to Luis, who's now sitting with a random girl.

"Hi, sorry to interrupt, but we have to leave."

I grab onto Luis' arm, using all my strength to get him up. Noticing the amount of shot glasses and empty beer bottles in front of them.

How the hell did he manage to do that so fast?

Idiot.

"Wait, do you want his Instagram?" I ask the girl. She hesitates before nodding looking at us confused.

"Okay, well, let me spell it for you."

I spell his username quickly, turning away.

"Yes, that's it. We're not a thing, by the way- he's my brother. Bye!"

Another lie, but maybe it would help him in the long run.

"Let's go, come on." I groan, dragging Luis back to the hotel.

It was doable until he started leaning his body on me, making me slump partially. My heels beginning to hurt my feet more than ever.

After a good ten minutes of struggling, we finally enter the elevator of the hotel, his body weight starts to pile on me. Arriving at our correct floor I drag him out, a huge sigh of relief leaving my lips as I recognize some of our Real Madrid players.

"Help." I mumble, watching some of them recognize the fact that I was half-suffocating.

I watch Antonio, Aurélien, and Jude, of all people, walk towards us, getting drunk and passed out Luis off of me.

"Thank you." I sigh, fixing myself, watching Antonio comically throw Luis onto one of the seats there.

"What happened to him?" I hear Brahim say as I try to catch my breath and I readjust my grip on my bag.

"Long story."

"Let's put him to bed first." Antonio says, making me nod. All of our eyes moving to a passed-out Luis.

"So, he got into a random boat?" Federico asks, looking at me.

I nod, trying to hold back a laugh while I drink my water. The cardigan I had retrieved from my room keeping me warm as we sat in the sky lounge.

"I would've partied." I look up at Cama, shaking my head.

"They were strangers, come on! But- one guy did approach me." I say, sending him a smug look.

"So you had some fun!"

"Look, he was cute. He offered me a drink, but I refused."

"That's it? Come on..”

"Why are you all up in my business?" I joke, being half-serious, hearing some of them laugh.

I finish my cup of water, beginning to stand up from my seat.

"It's getting late, I'm going up to my room. Don’t make it late, you guys need to rest well!" I say, waving after they send me off with kind words.

I press the elevator button, crossing my arms as I wait for it to arrive. The doors open a few seconds later, and I step in. I raise my head in surprise when I see an arm hold the doors open. Surprise turns into irritation when I notice Jude step in.

"Why did you follow me?" I ask, playing with the clasp on my bag.

"You know, not everything is about you." He mutters, a fed-up expression on his face. I sigh, closing my eyes in impatience, as I lean against the elevator wall.

The elevator makes a noise, and I check the floor number, getting out, hearing him follow me.

I start rummaging through my handbag for my room-key. Finally, fishing it out as we walk up to our respective rooms.

I arrive at my door, hearing Jude walk up to his own, his room interestingly enough being across from mine.

I go to scan my card but freeze, realizing my door is open by a small sliver.

"Why is my door open?" I mumble to myself, trying to subdue my instant panic.

"What?" I hear, seeing Jude walk up to me from the corner of my eye. His eyes darting in between me and the door.

"You left it open, probably." He responds, not an ounce of concern in his voice.

"You think?"

"Yeah, since you're so good with doors-"

"Okay, stop right there." I mutter, pushing the door open further. I flick the light on, looking around cautiously.

I hear him scoff at my behavior, and I turn around to look at him.

"Can you check the room?" I ask, trying to sound as nice as possible.

"No." He deadpans, giving me a bored look.

I hold back a string of cuss words, stepping into the room as he stands at the doorway.

"Stay here at least, before I get murdered."

"Would be a sight." He mutters, voice laced with humor. Though, I found it difficult to see this situation as funny.

"You're not funny. Are you aware of that?" I ask, punching into the curtains to check if anyone's hiding behind them.

"Find anything, detective?"

"Shut up." I whisper, going to open the bathroom door, hesitating for a moment.

Adrenaline starts pumping through my veins. I try to take deep breaths to prepare for a fight.

"What if someone's actually here?" I whisper, my eyes wide, as I turn to look at Jude.

I watch his expression harden, his jaw tensing as he looks at me.

"What do you mean?!" I hear Jude whisper back. His voice is hushed and more low than usual.

I take off both of my heels, ready to bash the possible intruder’s head in with my heels.

"Call security." I whisper, preparing to fight. I watch him take out his phone, before he raises his head again. His expression darkens for a moment before it changes into something- else...

"What are you doing, idiot? Come here." He says, and I can almost make out a vein popping out of his forehead.

All of the sudden, he makes his way over to me, grabbing my wrist and dragging me out of my room. Shutting the heavy door behind me, his hands coming up to my shoulders.

"What is wrong with you? You don't even know if they're with a weapon or anything!" He shouts in a hushed voice, his Brum accent more prominent than ever.

I continue staring at him, my lips parting in realization.

Damn, I was such a shallow thinker in times of crisis.

My mind turns blank, not acknowledging Jude's presence anymore. I can only hear him sigh and mumble something as security from both the club and hotel arrive at my room.

"Could you take her somewhere else, sir?” I hear someone say, feeling my wrist being pulled abruptly by Jude.

I follow him blindly, but I try to look back at my room. Wanting to see if someone would actually appear out of my room.

"Don't look." I hear, looking in front of me again as I’m brought into the hotel room across from mine. Nicer and bigger, definitely his.

"Sit down." He orders, pulling my wrist again and making me sit on one of the cushioned chairs.

I oblige without protest, too dazed to react in a snarky way. The silence in the room feels like hours when only being about ten minutes. It is finally cut off as Jude's phone starts ringing loudly.

I hear him speak for a few minutes before he hangs up. I watch him walk towards me as he sits in the chair next to me.

"No one was there, they checked the cameras as well. You left the door open."

I cringe, realizing my own initial mistake. A shudder runs through me as he explains.

"Oh, great!" I mumble sarcastically, feeling embarrassed, fidgeting with the fabric of my dress. Only now realizing I was barefoot, my heels probably fell out of my grasp when he pulled me out of the room.

I get up when he finishes explaining, walking up to the door. Pulling my soft cardigan closer to soothe myself.

"Where are you going?" I hear Jude ask. I turn and look back at him.

"Back to my room." I say, suddenly feeling the day's exhaustion take effect. My vision becoming blurry as I feel an ache make its way to my head.

This day alone probably took five years off my lifespan.

I hear him sigh as he walks up to me. Feeling him put his hand on my right shoulder.

"What?" I ask, looking him up and down. Trying to shrug his hand off of my shoulder.

I watch his jaw tense again, his grip on my shoulder getting tighter, though, not getting to the point of hurting.

I open my mouth to speak again, as he doesn't bother to answer my question. Unfortunately, I’m stopped by a sharp pain shooting through my head.

I groan in pain, placing my hands on my temples as I squeeze my eyes shut.

"What's wrong?" I hear him whisper, his other hand making its way to my left shoulder.

"I'm fine..." I dismiss, taking his hands off my shoulders. I reach for the door handle, pulling it down and stepping out of the room.

I tap my card against the sensor hurriedly and open my door, turning to see his door across the hallway already shut.

"Doesn't even care to watch me go inside." I mutter, ridding myself of my clothes and taking a much-needed shower. Trying to wash off all my stress and embarrassment.

When I'm done, I make a beeline to my bed, closing my eyes and forcing myself to sleep. I shift and turn, groaning in frustration as I turn my pillow around for the nth time.

It's like my sleep was robbed of me within minutes. My thoughts keeping me up. I check the time, realizing it was almost two in the morning.

I begin getting fully paranoid, my stupid brain making up the craziest scenarios imaginable.

I bury my face deeper into my pillow, forcing my brain to shut up. Finally, managing to fall asleep, too tired to keep my anxious walls up.

"You look like a truck ran you over."

"Shut up." I snarl replying to Jude. Trying to ignore him further as I continue eating my food, Luis sitting across from me at the breakfast buffet.

I had gotten maybe five hours of sleep. My three layers of concealer weren’t doing its job today. It had creased within minutes of application.

I roll my eyes as he sits at the table next to us, probably to annoy me further.

“Someone get this weirdo away from me..” I say loudly, closing my eyes in prayer.

I hear Jude scoff, following it up with a laugh.

"Were you born insufferable, or do you practice in the mirror before going to bed?" I ask, poking at my food.

I hear him chuckle again, which makes my blood boil even more. I glance at Luis, seeing a grin forming on his face.

"You too?"

I had told him everything that had happened last night, him feeling embarrassed but finding it hilarious at the same time.

He did promise he'd make it up to me.

"Don't forget how I dragged your ass from the dock to the hotel. I could've easily left you there."

I threaten, looking at Luis as I shove another spoonful of food in my mouth.

I see Jude open his mouth, but I stop him with a hand as my phone rings. My dad calling me right at the perfect moment.

"Oops, sorry, too busy for whatever you want to say."

I realize how immature I sound, but I digress. I get up and answer the call. Chatting to my dad about the past few days.

I signal for Luis to stop filming, patting his back to commend him for his hard work after the final whistle is blown. A nice 3-2 putting us on top of the table.

"They played really well."

I hum, posting the last social media post and turning to him.

"Right, if they keep playing like this, we'll definitely end up at the top of table C for sure."

"We'll go far. That's without question."

We make our way inside, trying to rush to get inside on time.

"Hugo is saying to interview both Frederico and Jude." I mutter, rereading the text message.

"That's fine, let's just wait here until they're ready." He says, both of us waiting in front of the changing room as they pile inside. Tired expressions on all of their faces.

"By the way, have you seen this one guy that's working here? He's so cute for you." I hear Luis say, looking up at him confused.

"Which one?" I ask, fidgeting with the cable of the camera.

"I'll show you when I see him." He says, and I give him a look.

"He better be cute, since you're making me wait."

"Alright, that's it." I announce, looking at Jude. Finally wrapping up his interview.

"Thank you." He mutters, with less attitude this time. Probably way too tired to have a petty fight with me. I wasn't disappointed with that, to be honest. I couldn't stand speaking to him anymore.

"See you on the bus, man." I hear Jude say, giving Luis a handshake as he begins walking away. My eyes follow him, piercing into his back.

"See, that's the guy I was talking about." I hear Luis say, my head snapping towards the direction he was looking at.

"Which one-" I begin, shamelessly looking at the guy.

"What? No, are you serious?" I ask, appalled by the person he’s shipping me with.

"Yeah, he's cute for you." He mutters, giving me a smirk.

"You might be hungover still. Let's just get into the bus, please."

We pack our equipment up, starting to walk towards the team buses. Successfully helping fellow staff with the multiple suitcases and bags and stepping up into the vehicle.

We greet the players we make eye contact with, the both of us walking along the occupied seats until we finally find two empty ones next to each other.

"I'm tired..." I mumble, leaning my back against the seat, closing my eyes as I get comfortable. Leaving my phone on my lap.

"I can see that." I hear Luis reply, and I open one of my eyes to give him an offended look.

"How sweet of you." I reply, trying to take a quick fifteen-minute nap. Running around for more than two hours with five hours of sleep was not for the weak.

I was part of the weak.

I hear the sound of a notification, surprised it could be heard through all of the chatter and banter of everyone in the bus.

"Was that your phone?" I ask, leaning my head against the window.

"No, it was yours." Luis answers.

"Can you read it for me? You know my password."

I feel my phone being removed from my lap, a second of silence from Luis before he starts laughing uncontrollably.

"What?" I ask, getting curious.

What could be that funny?

"It's a DM from a Chris on Instagram."

"Who the fuck is Chris?" I ask, finally opening my eyes to take my phone back. My eyes roaming around the screen, reading a short message with a 'view once’ photo.

"Thought you repped Valencia?"

I read the message out loud, looking back at Luis, confused. Then I look at the profile picture.

"Oh my god! It's the guys from the boat!" I shout, embarrassed when I realize I was being louder than necessary.

"The one you talked about?"

"Yeah- wait, what do you think the photo is?" I ask, starting to feel squirmy.

"A dick pic." I hear Luis whisper.

"Who got a dick pic?"

I hear someone ask, looking at the row behind me. Jude peeking his head in between our headrests.

"Not you, so mind your own business.." I reply, moving my phone out of his view and returning to my conversation with Luis. Ignoring the daggers he’s sending me with his piercing gaze.

"No way, gross. He looked desperate, but no way."

"Well, click on it."

"No, now I'm scared. Why would you even bring that up?"

"Just squint."

I huff, leaning back against the widow, squinting as I press on the photo.

"Oh-" I exclaim, taking a deep, relieved breath.

Thankfully, it’s not an explicit picture, but a photo of me at the stadium we were just at, prematch to be specific. From the angle, you could tell the photo was taken from the stands.

"Wait- what the fuck? He was there? Ew, why did he take a photo of me?” I say, showing Luis the screen.

I watch his mouth fall open. He reaches over, taking my phone from me and screenshots the photo.

"That's why he sent that message. You lied to him about yourself, right?"

"Of course I did!" I say, snatching the phone from his hand.

"What do I say?" I ask, looking at him with a questioning look.

"Do you even want to speak to him?"

"Well- I'm bored?" I give him a grin, his arm coming to push me.

“I can’t stop you, but you said he looked like trouble, so ignore him..." He advises, squeezing my arm.

I nod at his words, taking them in. I swipe to press the mute button on the chat, and turn my phone off.

#jude bellingham #jude bellingham x reader #jude x reader #jude bellingham imagine #real madrid fc #jude bellingham fanfic #footballer x reader #football imagines #football fanfic #football imagine #bellingham x reader #real madrid

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heich0e · 2 years ago

Text

There's an arm tight around your waist when you wake. It's heavy and familiar. It pulls you a little closer as your return to consciousness becomes known.

"G'morning," you mumble, rubbing at your eyes with the point of your knuckle. You blink, once and then twice, as the waking world comes back into focus and takes the shape of a new day.

"Morning."

Levi's voice is always so raspy in the morning. So low and rough. You shiver a little at the sound, but hide it in a stretch–your movement stunted by the hold he has you in, pulled to his bare chest.

"What did you dream about?" you ask him sleepily, rolling over so you're facing his way. He lets you move freely, but keeps his arm over you, and you prop your chin in your hand once you're laying on your tummy. You watch him as he watches you.

"Dunno," he says indifferently. "You know I don't ever really remember stuff like that."

You scrunch up your nose, having expected the answer but being no less disappointed by it.

"What did you dream about?" he turns your question back to you.

"Got a boob job."

Levi's eyes widen in surprise and his lip curls in distaste.

"Why the hell would you dream about that?" he grunts derisively, almost sulking.

"Who knows," you shrug as much as you can given your position. "You loved 'em though."

Levi takes your face in his hand and squishes your cheeks together until your lips purse. His expression is surprisingly severe as he looks you in the eyes. "Don't even joke about that. I like them exactly as they are."

He leans forward and presses a kiss to your forehead, your lips still puckered thanks to his grip. He lets your face go after a moment, and then pushes himself up to slip out of bed, shuffling off towards the bathroom down the hall.

You lay back in Levi's bed for a moment, flopping down with your face pressed in the pillows. They smell like him: like his soap, and his beloved laundry detergent whose brand he's so loyal to he buys it in bulk and keeps stacked at the back of his closet.

Down the hall, you hear the tap running as he washes his face, just like he does first thing every morning. The next thing you hear is the medicine cabinet open as he retrieves his blue toothbrush, kept in a little storage holder next to the yellow toothbrush he'd bought for you a few weeks ago to replace the pink one he'd bought you before that.

You lay there, peacefully listening to the motions of his morning routine step-by-step, until eventually he comes shuffling out again in his slippers and heads towards the little kitchen on the other side of his bachelor apartment.

Next is the kettle, filled with enough water for him to have tea and you to have coffee, then onto the electric base to boil.

"Get up, lazy."

You smile into his pillow as he calls to you.

"Don't wanna," you say, rolling over onto your back so he can hear you clearly.

"You have work," he reminds you, though he really doesn't need to–you're as aware of the fact as he is. You groan defeatedly, pushing yourself upright.

Levi looks over at you from the kitchen where he's preparing two mugs–one with looseleaf tea in a steeper, the other with a single-cup percolator resting overtop, waiting to be filled. He watches as you stretch your arms up over your head, the hem of the long-sleeved shirt he'd loaned to you the night before lifting from the motion. Your muscles ache a little, not in an unpleasant way, and you're still a little stiff from sleep.

You roll yourself out of bed and into the kitchen after him.

"What are you gonna have for breakfast?" he asks, the kettle shutting off automatically as it comes to temperature. Levi has one of those kettles where you can choose the automatic shut off temperature because–in his own words–he'd rather drink nothing than drink badly made tea.

"I want that pie from last night," you say, reaching for the door of the refridgerator to retrieve the very pastry you speak of. The two of you had stopped at a diner for dinner after a long day, and you'd lost your motivation to eat dessert but brought a slice of apple pie home with you for later. Levi stops you with a strong arm hooked around your waist.

"You can't eat pie for breakfast."

You pout. "Why not?"

Levi huffs indignantly through his nose, like it pains him to even dignify your question with an answer.

"You need to eat something with some nutritional value to start the day."

"There's fruit in it!" you argue uselessly.

"No."

You fight weakly against his hold, reaching out towards the appliance he works to keep you from. "But I want pie."

Levi finally lets you go with a long, world-weary sigh, knowing that his water is going cold.

"I bought you jam," he grumbles, pouring the kettle delicately over the mug waiting for him at the counter. "If you insist on starting the day with sugar at least have it on some toast."

You open the door to the refridgerator and sure enough on the door beside his usual condiments there's a little bottle of jam waiting for you. The same brand you always keep in your own fridge for yourself. You smile, plucking it out, eying the takeout container with your apple pie a little wistfully before letting the door swing shut behind you.

You creep up next to Levi at the counter, pressing a kiss to his cheek as he pours the hot water over the coffee filter waiting over your favourite mug.

"Thanks for the jam," you murmur into the soft, warm skin of his cheek.

"Yeah, yeah," he says dismissively, nudging the loaf of multigrain bread in front of him towards you with his free hand. It's the really seedy, healthy kind your mom is always telling you to buy because it's high in plant sterols and good for your heart. You expected nothing less. "Just make your toast."

You know he wouldn't have stopped you even if you ate the pie.

You know he still would have made you your coffee and driven you to work and kissed you goodbye when he told you to have a nice day.

The same as always. Never changing. Because he likes you exactly as you are.

But you just laugh and do as you're told, and make his life a little bit easier–if only just for once.

#levi ackerman x you #levi ackerman x reader #levi x you #levi x reader #levi ackerman #aot drabble #aot writing #writing

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destinationtrekk · 4 months ago

Text

arcadia

This is only a dream, and you will never hear that laugh again.

1.9k, wesker lives, referenced sex, flashbacks, angst with a happy ending, also kind of ambiguous ending, descriptions of depression

a/n: all my fics are cross posted to my ao3. named after the lana del rey song. also, i have a post-re5 wesker playlist if anyone wants it!!!

-> masterlist

-> arcadia on ao3

This day starts out like every other day since he died.

You wake up an hour before your alarm, though you think it’s generous to say you woke up if you never really slept. Your bedside clock reads 5:09 am, and you crawl out of bed anyway. You start getting ready for work, carelessly throwing on something vaguely professional looking. You had taken up managing a few of his labs. Not doing any real science of course, you were never as smart as him, but helping with hiring and on-boarding, being the pretty face that introduces young people to the insanity that is - was - his world.

You think they pity you, his employees and peers, because they ask quietly how you are, what have you been up to, how are you liking the job? You know they just want the gossip on how their dead boss’ widow is surviving without him. You had no clue where his money came from, or his nice house, his expensive cars, your expensive car he bought you. You had just taken everything he gave you with a blush and a smile, with devotion to him that ran deeper than blood.

You were worried, once you were able to stop crying and pleading for him to come home, how you could possibly manage to handle his assets. You quickly realized he had taken care of it, he had taken care of everything, just like he always had. A lawyer stopped by and handed you a few files, apologized kindly, and left. You only read enough to know that the house was yours, and you had enough money in your bank account to last you the rest of your life, if you were smart with it.

Now, you look at yourself in the mirror, your eye bags covered perfectly in makeup, and you feel sick. His towel is still hanging behind the door. His cologne is still sitting next to your perfume on the counter. You can’t bear to touch either.

You drive his black Jaguar to work. You remember when he brought it home, angry after a long day and storming into the house like there wasn’t a sparkling new car in the driveway. You had calmed him down, and kissed him sweetly until he let you drive it to town for dinner. You park the car at the lab and don’t look back.

Your day drags on but you can’t remember any of it. Everyday feels like this. You smile politely and drink coffee, shake hands and sit in meetings, drink more coffee. After lunch you make two cups of coffee, and you stare at the second cup with too much sugar and no cream until your eyes burn. You give it to an intern and ignore them when they try to thank you.

Your drive home is stunted by an hour of traffic, so you turn the music up until your head pounds and you aren’t tempted to look in the back seat, where he had fucked you so hard on your anniversary that he scratched lines in the leather with his nails.

It’s raining when you finally pull into the driveway. You go straight for the shower, scrubbing until your skin is pink and staring at nothing but his half empty shampoo bottle. You go through the motions of cooking dinner, but you feel too sick to eat. It gets portioned away in the fridge, where you know you’ll eventually just give it to someone at work, claiming you’re not hungry.

You lay on the couch for a few hours, eyes staring unfocused at the TV screen, until you migrate to bed. You do the same under the cold covers, which smell of nothing but laundry detergent now. Your eyes fixed blank on the ceiling. You doze off, just to repeat the day again, and again, and again.

You're splayed across the couch, his broad form crushing you into the cushions. You're both laughing, gasping for air and clutching at each other like teenagers. You don't remember the joke, but you do remember the way his blonde hair glowed like an angel across the table at dinner, lit by candles and the rosy haze of a bottle of wine, domestic in your kitchen. He sits up, straddling your thighs with his own, and looms over you. His eyes glow red in the dim room, and you smile so wide you swear your mouth would be stuck like that. He leans down, whispering sweetly against your neck, hands gliding over your clothes, under them, touching your skin-

This is only a dream, and you will never hear that laugh again.

Before you know it, nearly a year has passed. You had stopped going to the labs a month ago, and soon after the BSAA raided every known location of his research. You don't know who the rat was, but you're happy he's not here to see it. You've done nothing with your time except sit around, cook too much food for one person, and occasionally go running until you make yourself sick.

You're having a... better day than usual. It sets you on edge, thinking that you're on the path to heal and move on. You don't ever want to move on, to forget him, but it's inevitable. You had gone into his closet tonight, taking a sweater much too big for you that had long lost his smell. It was only the second time you had touched his clothes, but you thought you could handle it. Now, laying curled in bed, his sweater nearly swallowing you, you weren't so sure.

He's been gone for a week, and you've taken to sleeping in his shirts. The expensive fabric wraps around you in a poor mimic of his calloused touch, but it smells like him. When he finally comes home, he finds you curled up in bed, face buried in his pillow. Obviously, he has no choice except to drop everything and crawl under the covers, wrapping you tight in his arms. You groan as you come to, immediately smiling as you recognize the vice grip he holds your body in. It makes you laugh, and your joyous sound makes him smile into your neck.

"Nice shirt you have there," he rumbles, breath warm against your cheek. "Where did that come from?"

You giggle and turn in his arms, and you press your lips to his. "Just some guy I met, no one special."

He rolls you onto your back, gaze dark and adoring, and-

You snap awake. The front door alarm was blaring through the speakers downstairs, but it was silent by the time you jumped off the mattress. The alarm could only be turned off with a code, which meant-

You felt panic begin the climb up your throat, and you scrambled for his pistol, still tucked neatly in his bedside table. Your steps were quiet, the gun raised as you searched the house. Nothing was out of the ordinary, until you rounded the corner to the kitchen. You froze immediately, gun falling to your side as your eyes widened in shock.

Albert was hunched over the sink, white-knuckling the counter. His head shot up as the sound of your gasp, his eyes meeting yours in the reflection of the window. The gun clattered to the ground beside you and you nearly fell to your knees. His arms were around you in an instant, holding you up against his chest. A sob escaped you, and you squeezed your eyes shut, shaking your head and struggling in his grip.

"Quit it, you animal." His voice was the same dark murmur, a deep rumble against your cheek as he held you still. One of his large hands was cupping your head against him, his other arm wrapped around your shoulders. He buried his nose in your hair, breathing deep while you cried and squirmed against him. "Relax, sweetheart, breathe."

A few moments later his grip has loosened enough for you to pull away, and your heart breaks all over again at the sight of him. His hair is longer than you've ever seen it, hanging limp over his forehead and curling slightly behind his ears. His eyes are a familiar red, but his exhaustion is palpable in the air around you. His hands come up to cup your cheeks, and your expression falls at the texture of his skin. Your head rears back, and you take his hands in yours. He's covered in thick scars, pink and white flesh rigid under your fingers. You look up at him, noticing the same scars climbing his neck and crawling over his cheekbone.You reach a hand up to cup his face, and a devastated sound leaves you when he leans into your palm. "Albert..."

He lets out a sigh and closes his eyes, turning to press his lips to your wrist. He doesn't need to say a word, not when you can still read each other perfectly even after a year apart. You can see it in the corners of his mouth, the stiff way he moves his shoulder, the rasp of his voice, like it takes too much effort to open his jaw. This isn't the same Wesker you lost. This is someone else entirely.

All at once, the person you used to be comes back, like you never lost them at all. You take his hand in yours and lead him to the guest bathroom downstairs, flicking the light on and pushing him to sit on the toilet lid. He's slouching and avoiding your gaze, an act so unlike him that it makes you pause. You make him undress to his boxers, and he obeys without question. Confusion and grief and relief are clouding your mind. You reach again for his cheeks, and you can tell he wants to resist but you pull him to face you anyway. Under the fluorescent lights his scars look even worse - no, you won't say worse, you love him - you trace the lines gently up to his cheekbone.

"Do they hurt?" You whisper, turning him to take a closer look.

He doesn't answer for a moment, and then barely tilts his head in a nod.

You apologize, and quickly pull your hands away. He grabs your wrists and holds you still, before correcting himself. "Just sensitive."

You can tell now that he isn't injured - he isn't bleeding at least. You spend a long moment just looking at him, taking in the ways his body has changed, and the ways it hasn't. He looks a little thin, his collar bones prominent, new scars riddling his skin that aren't from burns. However, the burns do continue past his neck. One of his shoulders looks, well, frankly it looks like it had been shredded - the thick burn scars the apparent reason for his stiff and pained movements on his right side. The scars continue down to his ribs, all the way to the v of his right hip, where they fade into smooth, unmarred skin.

The shock on your face must be apparent, because he reaches back for his shirt, and you quickly stop him, your voice breaking. "No, don't- I'm sorry, I just... how are you alive?"

He looks uncomfortable, his jaw clenched tight as he still avoids your eyes. "Honestly, I don't know. It's... a very long story." His voice is still hoarse, and you start to think it's not just from exhaustion.

He finally looks up at you, and his red eyes are wet. You decide then and there that, even if this is a dream, he's the most beautiful you've ever seen him.

"Then why don't you start from the beginning?"

#albert wesker #resident evil #albert wesker x you #albert wesker x reader #trekk writes #albert wesker fluff #resident evil x reader #re5 wesker #albert wesker fanfiction

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fatorangepoo · 3 months ago

Text

Wriothesley Teaches You How to Fight Like A Pro

"First things first... fix that attitude of yours," Wriothesley grumbled, clad in his long-sleeved dress shirt, fitted pants and mechanical gauntlets. Slicking his hair back with both hands over his head, he groaned, "You don't even want to do this properly. Are you just here for me or what?"

Upon hearing that, your jokester ass laughed out loud and you clutched your clenched stomach bending over in joy. Wiping a tear from your eye, you muse, "Well what if I was?" and continued giggling with your feet circling in arcs like a dying roach.

Let's just say some people have a different sense of humour. You weren't even surprised when you lightly peeked with one eye at Wriothesley to find him glaring daggers at you with those striking eyes of his, because he has never appreciated your skibidi toilet jokes.

Even you knew his limits, and you didn't know him well. Just well enough to share drinks and inside jokes. For you, well was quality time and bouts of intimate touches. So no, you didn't know him well. You got up and sprung back into action, picking up some Gintama move you saw Chinese grandmothers do in Tai Chi. Hands in karate chop motion, you tornadoed to his direction and landed a foot directly in front of him, hand positioned directly before his nose.

Wriothesley scrunched up his nose and forced out a reluctant "Better, I guess," and lowered his head. Addled and confused, you tilted your neck to your side in a classic WHAT?! pose, then you heard a chuckle from somewhere around the room. Looking around, you said, "Well, I never knew you invited some others to our practises."

When he didn't respond, you turned back to him kneeling on the floor, gorgeous di-coloured hair sprawling out from his scalp. You squat with your legs open like a frog or sneaky spider in front of him, leggings stretching against your calf. Looking down at him, you saw a glimpse of his canine tooth revealed by a devilish grin. He looked up at you and laughed at your face, eyes closed all the way through in a joyful daze.

Sobering up, he projected with a husky voice, "So funny, are we?" and you could swear his Arctic glacier eyes thundered periodically, letting you in a world of dark, deep sea typhoons. "Let's see what happens when you face real danger. You think they would loosen their grip because you said something that started with ski, ended with di and rhymed with clinically? I'd like you see you £#¢¥ing try," he threatened gloomily, advancing onto you with a fat forearm.

You hastily avoided his arm by holding it back with both hands, but you never really won over the gymbros in arm wrestling, so you got overpowered instead. He locked his arm under your neck, lifting you up so your toes were dreaming of touching land, which never happened considering you were taller than the average population. His shirt sleeve was so distracting because it smelled like your cousin's detergent and made you wish you had money to afford laundry that was more than just rinsing fabric with water.

You felt like Loki being held by his neck by Thor, albeit being the superior brother in the situation. In every situation, actually. Loki just suited you better. Pranksters have your whole heart.

You snuck your hands under his arm and pushed outward with all your might, and he was still unyielding. Bruh, at this point you just gotta turn around and start pushing his chest away from you. That'd be more effective, right? Whose chest can withstand brute force? Well, not yours, to be frank. You can't even wrestle your cousin.

"LET ME... THE £@#& GO!" you yelled with your back against his locked hands in a smooth manoeuvre, and tried to push at his chest. Ew, this feels like molestation. Who cared about molestation when your life was being threatened by a raider!!! You don't care anymore, you went from poking his chest playfully to shoving the hell out of his dress shirt, and he stumbled, hands losing their grip.

Like a proud hen, you stood arms akimbo, head inclined as you stared Wrio down. Oh my effing god. He surged and started CHARGING at you!!! He threw himself on you like on those WWE Superslams and you flew with your back sliding on the floor. His arms were around you, then you realised they weren't around you as much as they were wrapped around an actual dagger. Oh archons!

If you were wrong in the head, you would think this was fun and mentally stimulating. It was a bit exhilarating, but you were fearing for your life here. Mr Puppy here looks like he would actually kill you here and now for saying skibidi toilet during a company dinner 3 weeks ago. Deeply stashed anger, am I right? Poor pup doesn't have an outlet to release stress, so he keeps it all pent up and explodes on you for a tiny joke consisting of toilet...

His knee kneeling in the space between your thighs, he seemed chivalrous and angelic and deadly. The light shining on him from his table lamp just further intensified the dark side of his face, unilluminated by anything. That pretty much sums up your first impression of him. Dark, sepulchral and a pain to be with. Now, you're wrong. This is fun.

"Alright, yes yes, I'm afraid I'm deeply invested now, Your Grace. Continue," you chirped happily from your position under the Duke's glinting knife. If you stole a jewel from the hilt now, would he realise? You were quite good at this gemstone side hustle of yours.

"Second of all, do not let yourself be vulnerable," he gritted his teeth and you wanted to caress his neck just right above your collarbone. "Well, I don't. I never open up to people! I consider it one of my great strengths-" you got cut off by his bejeweled dagger pinning itself on the fabric of your tank top like a dart pinned to a dartboard.

"Not what I meant," he offered, "but thanks for the invitation." Then he lifted a hand and punched you on your good side. Alas, no more side profile selfies!

You grabbed the gloved hand that was about to go for a second round of punching you with one determined fist of yours, unyielding in your grip. You observe Wriothesley's amusement, his face on top of you taunting. God, his lifted lips are so distracting in their angles, sharp at all the right places. Dangerous men should not have smiles more perilous than their charm.

Despite that, you shook him with your hand guiding him in the direction you wanted to go - in this situation you wanted him the floor where you previously were. Locking your elbow around his dangerous arm, you channeled enough strength to pull him down on the floor beside you. After the satisfying thud of your bully/mentor's back hitting the floor (his tough back muscles are probably fine), you swiftly roll yourself on top of him, legs clamped around both of his. Tank top strap slowly sliding down your shoulder, you dislodge the dagger on the floor and rest your elbows on the sides of his face. Curling his hair on the dagger's pointy edge, you look down, half-lidded, on his tired blue eyes and sadistically remarked, "Any tips for ending someone with a dagger?"

#genshin impact x reader #wriothesley #wriothesley x reader #genshinimpact #genshin impact #genshin fanfic #genshin x reader #genshin

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n1ghtfurys · 5 months ago

Text

Cream II

Okay so this is the second part to when you met Keegan at a party? A whole one person asked so I'm going to make this a thing. Also don't hate me I'm gonna do another one...probably.

Part I: Cream

You haven't been able to look him in the eye since the party, most of the time when you see him you walk immediately in the opposite direction. One time, when you were with your friend, you audibly squeaked. She still hasn't let you live that one down. His behaviour hasn't changed at all, not that you've been around him enough to tell but still.

Guys normally go for your friend. She likes to pretend otherwise but you've always got people asking about her and yeah, the free drinks are great but they aren't usually directed at you. Not that you mind, peace and quiet is nice and there are so many guys that are so far up their own asses you're shocked they can still see.

Regardless you've been in hiding, you feel like he's everywhere. Obviously he's around because you live in the same building but you find yourself noticing him more, you think he's been trying to talk to you too. Most of the time he doesn't catch you but every so often it looks like he's gonna, luckily that has yet to happen.

Honestly you're shocked he's been here so long, usually he stays at the base and he's deployed a lot, like more often than not. You've been putting off laundry on the off chance that he happens to be down at the same time as you. Only because it would trap you down there with him and you still haven't gotten over the party. The picture of him on his knees in front of you, his mouth open, is one that lives with you. Comes to the front of your mind at night when you're tossing and turning and usually ends in something you aren't really proud of.

You can't put it off anymore though, you're running out of clothes. You spent all day today wandering around in weirdly tight grey sweats and a frankly, very ugly top with a red dragon on, that you had stolen from an ex. It's a truly interesting look, one that has left you comfortable and uncomfortable. The sweats cling to you in so many places and none of them are great, you don't really like how they sit on your hips or how they somehow flatten your ass but the top is on the bigger side so mostly hides that.

You decide to bite the bullet, another mismatched outfit of ill fitting clothes and pieces stolen from various ex’s is not really how you want your week to look. And you can be quick, in and out. No chances of an awkward encounter that just ends with you retreating to the safety of your room, probably never to leave again.

You have never liked the laundry room. The landlord hasn't bothered painting the walls so there is only water stained concrete and cobwebs for decoration, if you're honest it's dingy and always smells dusty despite the detergent people use on their clothes. It's also always warm down here, you hate that, It's like being wrapped in a warm, damp blanket. The dryers sometimes eat your socks too and at least half of the machines are out of order.

It's not like your building is particularly bad, sure some of the halls have cracked paint and one of the doors into the building is held together with duct tape but it's really not a bad building.

It's empty when you get down though, much to your delight because you don't have to deal with any polite small talk about weather or neighbourhood changes. As much as you like the older citizens in your building they can be quite boring to talk to. Plus it gives you some time to read, the book is truly subpar but it's entertaining and music makes it slightly more bearable. So once you've put the clothes on you perch on one of the machines that don't work and hope nobody else comes in.

Of course your luck is never that good and the door opens pretty much as soon as you settle on the cool metal of the dryer. You don't look up, mostly because if you pretend you haven't noticed them, they can't start a conversation but also if you look up and he's standing there you're going to curl up into a ball and die of embarrassment.

Your plan works perfectly until the mystery person pipes up.

“What you reading?” You know the voice without having to look up, of all the people. It had to be him, you know your luck isn't amazing but you didn't think it was that bad.

This would be your que to curl up and die, only you can't ignore him. It's rude and you don't hate him so you make the decision to look up from your book. You, however, immediately regret your decision to do that because why does he look like that? Part of you wishes he could be on his knees in front of you again but that part of you is clearly unstable and is to be ignored at all costs.

You paint a polite smile over your face, in hopes he can't figure out how many times you've come with his name on your lips. You lift up the book to show him, he doesn't really strike you as the reading type so you have no problem showing him and if you show him the cover he might not ask questions. He nods, you think for a moment he's going to ask what it's about but he doesn't. He actually doesn't say anything else, he just goes about his laundry.

You're not entirely sure how you feel about the fact that he didn't continue the conversation, technically you have no reason for it to bother you. Especially since you didn't want to talk anyway but something about the fact he says nothing annoys you.

You can't help but watch him, hunched over the machine. The black t-shirt he's wearing has no right being that tight, you can see the muscles in his back whenever he moves and you know all he's doing is loading clothes into a washing machine but god his arms.

He must feel your eyes on him because he looks up, you meet his eyes before you avert them quickly back to your book because that was mortifying. Seriously it's just a guy in a black t-shirt and you're basically drooling over him, god you're better than this. You swear you hear him chuckle which serves to both annoy and embarrass you.

The chime of your cycle being over literally cannot come fast enough. You have never unloaded one of those machines faster, you grab what you think is all of your shit and basically run up the stairs because anything is better than being in a room with him in his stupid sexy t-shirt with his dumb muscles and deep voice.

You retreat to the familiar safety of your room for the rest of the day, stress reading your book to get past the awfulness of that encounter.

That is until you hear the front door open, obviously since you have a roommate you think nothing of it until you hear said roommate call you to the door, because today couldn't get any worse. You go to the door, expecting a delivery or a salesman she needs you to get rid of but obviously you're not that lucky because the universe must hate you.

Standing at the door is, of course, Keegan because who else would be at your door? What could he possibly want? He doesn't seem like the type of guy to make fun of people, let alone seek someone out to do so.

You make your way to the door, which is arguably the last place you want to be right now. As you pass your friend she punches you like this is a good thing because you may or may not have told her what happened at the party and she's very, very set on getting you laid. That's not what's going to happen though.

You stand in the doorway and watch as his eyes drift slowly down your body, when he meets your eyes again you can tell that he's smirking, not that you can see his mouth but you know.

“You left everything but your glass slippers, princess.” He holds out the detergents you had taken down there with you.

“Oh” really, you know that you should use more words than that, because you do know more words than that or you think you do. Right now it doesn't matter because you're trying to will your brain to pick between saying thanks and sorry.

“Sonks” clearly you are not stronger willed than your brain. You take the bottles from his, still, outstretched hands while hoping that a you-sized sinkhole would appear beneath you.

“Thanks, and sorry for making you come all the way up here. Bye.” he barely has a chance to answer before you're shutting the door.

You put the detergent on the kitchen counter and then proceed to put your head there too because what the fuck was that? A one way ticket to forever being the one girl that can't even talk. You then start to realise how rude it was to slam the door essentially on his face when he was being nice and then you feel even worse about everything.

Not much you can do about it now anyway so you put the detergents away because this day couldn't get any worse. If you weren't hiding in your room before, you are now. Forever. Unless you're called out by your friend or need to cook so that she doesn't burn down the apartment. You like your room anyway, so big deal, and you can probably get enough sunlight from the windows not to get a vitamin D deficiency and if not there's always supplements.

“Honey!” your best friend and roommate has taken to calling you that, usually when she gets home from work but it's kinda just stuck. “Whose number is on the fabric softener?”

Before you really have time to move, she's bursting into your room, as she does.

“Bet it's his.” she has also already taken your phone which you now regret giving her the password to. Luckily your brain catches up before she sends a message that starts with ‘hey sexy’

You forget for a moment that the world hates you and everything sucks because you in fact don't delete the message, instead you manage to press send, like an idiot but it's fine. Maybe he doesn't use his phone at all, or maybe it fell out of his pocket down a flight of stairs or maybe he broke his neck.

Clearly not because he reads it before you have the good sense to delete it. Clearly, all that can be learnt from today is that luck doesn't exist and everything sucks and you're never gonna end up in bed with this man, ever.

#cod men #cod fluff #cod keegan #keegan p russ #keegan russ x reader #keegan russ #keegan cod #i don't actually know if its fluff

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pasta-in-the-pudding · 1 year ago

Note

Hi sorry if this seems annoying!😭 can you do Ben and Jeff and masky with a newbie scared child reader like when they first saw them they where shaking in there boots? And just very scared of everyone😭 I hope you have an amazing day remember your worth it and im proud of youu!<3

Don't worry, you aren't annoying! Also, thank you for your kind words <33

Thank you so much for requesting!!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

BEN

The first time BEN saw you was to bring you your uniform, as per his job as the supplier and technology manager

You were with sally, she was helping you get set up

When sally sees ben, she rushes over to him and asks if he wants to do a tea party with her and her new friend

He shakes his head "another time, sal"

Sally pouts while he walks over to put your uniform on your bed

"These are your uniform clothes. You wear them when you're working, especially if you're out on a mission. You're young, so you shouldn't have much work outside of the manor. Just keep them clean and ironed and you'll be good"

You stand there, looking up at him, shaking and furrowing your brows worriedly

He raises a brow and puts a hand on his hip "can you even manage a yes sir or a thank you? What a dope" he mutters before turning and leaving your room

After that he doesn't talk to you too often unless you talk to him

Which happens around 3 days later

"Mr. Ben can you help me...?"

"With what" he asks, not even pausing his game

"I don't know how to wash my clothes...im sorry" you whisper in a meek voice

He lets out a biiiiig sigh and stands up "alright, come on. Ask Tim for help with your clothes from now on. He's taller so he can actually reach the detergent. And he's also better at taking care of kids" he says as he walks downstairs to the laundry room

You follow behind him "im sorry.... mr. ben?"

"Hm?"

"Whos tim?"

Another biiiiig sigh

Jeff

Pretty much all of the kids were scared first time they saw jeff 💀

So no one was shocked when you reacted that way

After getting fairly acquainted with some other children, brian and liu, you mostly hung around them

One night however, there was a small party at the manor

Jeff, being the chronic hollywood undead listener of the house, of course is there

The party is being kept to the second level of the manor, in one of the living room areas, and is more so just a loud hangout than a party

The creeps partaking are listening to loud rock music, drinking beer and playing cards

You had gotten lost trying to find your room and eventually wandered into the area the get together was happening in

"Dude what's that little kid doing here" one of the creeps asks

This makes jeff turn the music down and look over at you

He is still in his work uniform, his hair is a mess and he looks obviously annoyed that he's getting interrupted

"You're that new kid, aren't ya? What are you doing up isn't it bed time for you worms?" He asks, standing and putting his beer on the table

Seeing how much taller he is than you only adds to the already intense fear "im sorry..." you whimper

"Yeah, yeah, run off to your room, kid" he says, waving his hand in a dismissing tone

"I-i don't know where it is" you whisper

He groans and bends down to your height "ok kid, do you have a caretaker around here somewhere?"

You shake your head and back away from him nervously. His breath reeks of nicotine and alcohol, and it makes your nose burn

"Alright, come on" he says, standing and grabbing your hand, leading you all the way down to Slender's office

There, slender is able to help you get back to your room safely while jeff goes back to drinking and playing cards upstairs

Masky

He is someone that a lot of kids turn to when they're unsure

He's one of the designated caretakers of the manor, basically meaning he helps the little kids with whatever they need

He doesn't mind this, because he likes to keep busy

So you coming to him was something he was pretty used to

However what he wasn't exactly used to was how timid you were

There are a lot of anxious kids in the manor, but to get a new kid in the manor is rare so it's been a while since he's had to deal with a kid this anxious

You knock on his door, to which he answers

"Um are you Tim?" You ask, fidgeting with your fingers

"Yeah, what's wrong, kiddo?" He asks, trying to make himself seem less threatning

Your face lights up a little bit at seeing you got the room number right "ok, uh i was told that you could help me reach the food? Im sorry, i just need the goldfish and I'll be out of your way"

He raises a brow "goldfish? Kid, it's only nine a.m. Don't you want some breakfast instead?"

"No that's ok i just need the goldfish..." you whisper

He steps out of his room and beckons you to follow "come on, I'll make you some actual food. How do you feel about pancakes? Or do you want something else?"

You scramble to follow after him, as he takes really big steps "no, pancakes is ok"

You sit at the table while he cooks your pancakes, and when he is done he sets the plate down in front of you and goes to pour you some juice

"Thank you" you whisper, beginning to eat

"Don't be afraid to come get me if you need anything else" he says, heading back up to his room

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noisynaia · 2 years ago

Note

I have recently found your blog and I am obsessed! I saw your requests are open and I wanted to ask you for some Frankie smut 😋 (could also be Marcus P if you prefer)

Frankie and reader have been friends for years and are both secretly in love with the other but they are dumb and oblivious and don't think the other is feeling the same. But one morning they wake up after a one-night stand together and think they have ruined their friendship but they finally figure their shit out and get together. Thank you in advance!! 💗🤗

𝐵𝐴𝐶𝑂𝑁 𝐴𝑁𝐷 𝐸𝐺𝐺𝑆

I was so happy to get this request, I have missed writing for Frankie 💕

word count: 5.3k

pairing: Francisco Morales x afab!reader

note: Explicit (18+). Smut. A little angst with a happy ending. Drinking. Mutual pining. Friends to lovers. Love confessions. Vaginal fingering. Cunnilingus. Unprotected P in V (with the use of contraception). Creampie. No use of (y/n). This has not been beta nor proofread and English is not my native language.

You slowly stir as you’re pulled out of your sleep, a beam of sunlight is sneaking through the blinds, landing right on your face. The first thing you register is that your mouth feels dry and that you have a headache. You let out an unsatisfied grunt, turning around to lay on your stomach, burying your head in the soft pillow without opening your eyes, trying to flee the pestering light as you slowly ease into consciousness. It is kind of weird that the sun would hit your face from that angle, it doesn’t really make sense with the placement of your bedroom window. Something else is off you realize.

Your pillow, which usually smells of your lavender laundry detergent, smells different, good, but different, is it pine? Kind of smells like Frankie actually… And that is when you realize that you are not laying in your own bed. Your eyes shoot open. The realization of where you are feels like a bucket of ice water being poured over you. You’re in your friend’s bed, your best friend’s bed, and you’re naked… So very naked.

You let out a choked gasp as memories of last night slowly come back to you in fragments.

You and Frankie making out on his couch, which had led to the two of you dry-humping each other like a couple of desperate teenagers. Frankie taking your hand, leading you back to his bedroom. The sweet praise falling from his mouth as your lips were wrapped around his cock. Your fingers entangled in his hair while his face was buried between your thighs. Your screams of pleasure as he had split you in half with his cock, your legs thrown over his broad shoulders while he pounded his cock deep into you. How he had kissed you so tenderly through your climax...

Shit.

You slowly turn your head, looking over at the empty space next to you, feeling your stomach drop at the sight of a neatly folded set of Frankie’s clothes laid out for you. A peace offering? You sit up slowly, groaning displeased in your hungover state. You’re clutching the sheets that are covering your naked body to not let it slip, even though you’re alone in the bedroom, but you can’t help but feel too exposed.

It had been a mistake, maybe the biggest mistake of your life. How could you let this happen? What are you going to do now? You can not lose Frankie

You almost feel like crying when the distant smell of coffee and bacon hits your nostrils. The fact that you have to face Frankie, who is on the other side of the door cooking breakfast for you is terrifying, he has done that countless times, but this time is under such different circumstances and you can’t help but fear that this time will be the last and you can’t stand the thought of that. You will not be able to bear to hear him tell you that last night was a fluke and that it didn’t mean anything, but it is a much better alternative than letting this ruin your friendship. You have been in love with him since high school, if you had been meant to be, if he had ever felt about you like you feel about him, you would have been together by now. You can deal with him not feeling the same, you have already done that for years, but losing his presence in your life you won’t be able to handle. How could you even let this happen?!

The night had started like any other Friday night. You Frankie, Ben, Will and Santi occupying a booth at your favorite bar. Laughs and banter over beers which had turned into tequila shots. You and Frankie had ended up being the only two left, you complained about having to go home and Frankie had offered you to come and crash on his couch like you have done so many times before. As much as you want to stay hidden under the covers, hiding away from the world forever, you know that you will have to get up and face the music. As tempting as it is you ignore the soft clothing option Frankie had laid out for you. This will be hard enough to do, wearing his clothes would definitely not make it easier.

You get out of the bed, wincing at the ache between your legs as you pick up your crumpled clothes from the floor and quickly pull them on, but you freeze in horror as you feel a drop of cum leaking out of your worn cunt. You swallow thickly at the sensation. Thank goodness for your IUD you think.

—

The first thing Frankie notices when he wakes is his arm feeling numb, the second thing he notices is the course of the feeling.

You.

He swallows thickly, as he turns his head to the right. There you are, softly snoring beside him, using his arm as a pillow. The sheets are covering most of your body, but it is still clear that you are just as naked as he is.

He feels his face heat and his cock twitching, as the events of last night come crashing over him. How the two of you had ended up back at his apartment after the other guys had headed home from the bar. It had been such a normal night, one like the many, many other ones just like it. You, him and the guys had been out, but when the night was coming to an end you had left with him instead of going home to your own place, not that that is so uncommon, Frankie lives closer to the bar than you do and you have often come back home with him to crash on his couch after a night out instead of going back to your own apartment. The one huge difference that set last night apart from all the other times are the events that have led up to him now waking up next to you in his bed.

The two of you had been pretty drunk when you came back to his apartment, but you had decided to get a couple more beers from his fridge instead of going to bed. The two of you had been sitting on his couch, talking and laughing as you reminisced over old memories. He doesn’t remember exactly how the conversation had ended up taking the direction that it had, but the two of you had ended up kissing which had led to so much more.

He can’t believe that it had actually happened. Frankie can’t even remember a time that he hasn’t been in love with you. You are everything he has ever wanted. It has always been you. In every meaningless one-night stand, in every relationship, not that he has had many, it has always been you that he has secretly yearned for. You have always been the standard that he, conscious or not, has been searching for in others, never being able to find it in any other than you. Not that he has ever told you this… He has never had the bravery to tell you about his feelings for you. As much as he has always wanted you in a romantic way, your friendship has always been way too important for him. He loves you as a friend just as much as he is in love with you. Telling you how he truly feels for you has always been too risky, the chance of it ruining your friendship too mortifying. He has been able to live without having you in the way he secretly wants to for all these years, but not having you as a friend, not having you in his life? He doesn’t think he could survive that.

Now as he looks at your sleeping figure next to him he feels like all the air has been knocked out of his lungs. There you are, his best friend, so lovely, so beautiful, fast asleep in his bed curled up beside him and he feels absolutely terrified. But it is not the only thing he is feeling. There is a flutter of hope growing inside his chest. Could it be that you actually feel some of the same feelings as him? Why else would you have kissed him? Why else would you have asked him to take you to his bed?

No. He can’t think like that. He has had enough casual sex in his life to know that it doesn’t have to mean anything, but it has never been a part of your relationship and it has never been something he has wanted with you. His feelings for you are way, way too deep for him to ever be able to do that.

He will have to wait till you wake to figure out if this is going to lead to the start of his wildest dream come true or if this is going to be the biggest mistake of his life.

He takes in a shaky breath as he starts to slowly slide his arm away from your head, you stir a little but he knows how heavy of a sleeper you are, especially after you have been drinking so he isn’t really afraid of waking you. He gets out of the bed, quickly dressing himself in soft clothing before laying out some clean sweatpants and a clean shirt for you, for when you wake, you will probably want something soft after last night.

He tiptoes out of the bedroom, he is not going to be able to sleep more anyway and he wants to have breakfast ready for you when you wake, sure that you will have a hangover just like himself. He set the coffee over to brew before getting eggs and bacon out of the fridge and putting bread in the toaster.

Frankie starts on the fluffy scrambled eggs, making them just how he knows you like them best, getting lost in his own thoughts as he cooks.

“Good morning.” The sound of your voice is pulling him out of his head, it is weak and slightly raspy from sleep. He turns his head to look at you, but you avoid his gaze as you hesitantly step into the kitchen. He had left a pair of his sweats and a t-shirt for you before going to the kitchen to cook breakfast, but you are wearing your own clothes which are slightly wrinkled and smelling slightly of spilt drinks.

“Morning.” He says, placing two plates of eggs and bacon on the kitchen table, gesturing for you to sit down, before pouring you some coffee.

You accept the mug, cradling it between your hands as you stare down into it, while he sits down at the chair opposite of yours. Delicate ribbons of steam dance in the air in front of you. You have eaten many breakfasts together over the years, but none of them has been this tense. None of them had been the morning after you had slept together so of course it makes sense that this time it’s different, but he hates how you don’t even look at him. The two of you are eating in silence, a silence that seems to just stretch on and on before he finally gathers the courage to speak.

“How are you feeling?”

“A little hungover, but I’ll be grand.” You respond, blowing into your mug to cool off your coffee before taking a sip.

“So, uhm…” He fidgets with his own mug, nervous about starting the conversation. He had hoped it would be easier. A part of him had hoped you would have emerged from his bedroom wearing his clothes, wrapping your arms around him and that would be it. Of course, he knows that it isn’t that simple, but last night wouldn’t have happened if you didn’t feel a little of what he is feeling, right? “About last night–”

You cut him off before he gets to finish his sentence. “Listen, can we just pretend this never happened?”

Frankie studies your face for a moment, trying to find some sort of sign that you don’t regret last night, but he can’t find one. His stomach drops, you can’t even meet his eyes. Fuck… Has he ruined everything between you?

“Of course.” He croaks out.

He suddenly feels like he has to throw up. It hadn’t meant for you what it meant for him. You regret it and maybe your friendship is ruined forever.

“Okay.” You say simply, quickly finishing your coffee before standing up. “I should also head home, don’t want to take up all of your Saturday.” You mutter.

Frankie doesn’t say that that is the worst excuse he has ever heard. The two of you have spent more Saturdays together than apart, but you clearly don’t want to stay so he is not going to hold you. “Want me to drive you?” He asks instead.

“No.” You shake your head. “I’ll walk, I think the fresh air will be good for my headache.”

He just nods, not trusting his own voice at this moment, he feels so fucking broken, and before he even gets to say goodbye you’re out of the door.

“Shit.” He chokes out, planting his face in his hands. He has really fucked up…

—

You are slumping into the soft cushions of your couch with a tub of ice cream, your favorite comfort movie playing on the tv as you curse yourself for being such a coward. You had told Frankie that you should just forget about the incident and act like it never happened but you are clearly not good at following your own words.

It’s Saturday night, a week has gone by since you had woken up in Frankie’s bed. You haven’t seen him since you walked out of his door after eating breakfast in his kitchen. You have not been able to face Frankie. You had still texted with him a little throughout the week, but not nearly as much as you normally would. Benny had a fight last night but you had, as much as it had pained you to not show up for your friend, not come. You were not ready to face Frankie yet, so you had come up with a lame excuse, but had made sure to call Benny afterwards, he had won the fight and the boys were out to celebrate tonight, and as much as you wanted to be there with them, you had come up with another excuse, telling them that you weren’t feeling well.

You’re halfway through your movie when you hear a knock on your door. Pausing your movie and setting down your half eaten ice cream on the coffee table before shuffling to the door. You feel like the air is knocked out of your lungs when you open the door to see Frankie standing on your doorstep, his signature black baseball cap in his hands as he anxiously fidgets the canvas of it between his fingers.

“Hey.” You say.

“Hey.” He echoes, before adding. “Uhm, you weren’t at Bennys last night and you didn’t come tonight either and then Will said you had told him you weren’t feeling well, so I just wanted to check on you.” He stutters over his words slightly.

“Oh, well I’m okay. I was just kind of tired.” You know that you don’t sound very convincing, you had been the one to say that you should act like nothing happened, but you sure are not good at acting on it.

“Are you avoiding me?” Frankie blurts out.

“No, I-I’m not avoiding you.” You say, but you know you don’t sound convincing, you have never been a good liar.

Frankie sighs, running a hand through his mussed hair. “I think we should talk…”

“About what?” You mutter, knowing that playing dumb is a bad strategy, but you had not expected for him to turn up at your doorstep.

“About last week.” He sighs, running a hand over his face.

You’re close enough to count every single eyelash and every single freckle on his handsome face, it’s distracting. What does he have to be so damn beautiful for?

“Frankie, I thought we agreed to not talk about that.” You say, your voice is much weaker than you want it to be. He winces slightly at your use of Frankie. It’s not often that you call him that. He has always been Cisco to you. It is what you, and only you, call him. Something sacred between just the two of you, but you couldn’t bring it over your lips while having this conversation, not when it feels like you have lost him over your dumb drunken mistake.

“I know we did, but I think we need to talk about it…” He states in a flat tone, before adding. “I need to talk about it.”

“I don’t know what there is to talk about. We were drunk, it happened and… and you don’t have to feel bad or anything. I'm not mad at you, I know that it didn’t mean anything to you, so-” You don’t get to finish your sentence, Frankie cuts you off, his voice shaky as he pours his heart out.

“But it did! It meant fucking everything to me.”

You freeze, an ocean of emotions washing over you. Confusion, disbelief, hope, fear. It’s all too much. You shake your head at him, not knowing what to think or what to say. “Frankie it’s okay, you don’t have to lie to me.”

“Is that really what you think?” Frankie says so softly like he can’t believe what you just said. There is a sadness in his eyes that confuses you. You stare at him as he shakes his head slightly, a hurt look on his face as he continues. “You really think it didn’t mean anything to me? You really think that I would have done it if it didn’t?” Hurt laces his voice. He searches your eyes, desperate for an answer, and you can practically see the way his heart starts to fracture. “I’d never do that to you, I could never be that careless with your feelings.” Frankie exhales through his nose.

“What are you saying?” Your voice is quiet, barely more than a whisper.

“I love you, okay… I-I’m in love with you. I don’t expect you to feel the same and I am sorry if this ruins everything, but I just had to tell you, okay”

You feel like the entire world has come to a halt. You can’t believe your own ears. He whispers your name softly, as you stand in front of him frozen. Your head is spinning, trying to process his words. He loves you? Francisco Morales is in love with you? You feel your eyes welling with tears and suddenly, without even realizing what you're doing, as if you are on autopilot you launch yourself at him, crashing your lips to his.

“Cisco, I have loved you since I was seventeen…” You whisper against his lips when you finally have to break the kiss as your lungs start to burn from lack of air.

He lets out a choked laugh. “Not to steal your thunder, sweetheart, but I think I can beat that.” He plants a sweet kiss on your forehead. “I’ve loved you as long as I’ve known you.”

“Shut up.” You whisper, not believing what you’re hearing.

“Make me?” He says with a sly smile.

You are happy to oblige, connecting your lips once again. It is not like any kiss you have ever had before. Kissing him last week had been good, but this? This kiss is absolutely magical because now you know that Frankie loves you. Loves you in the same way you love him.

“Love you, Cisco. Love you so much.” You spill into the kiss, making him hum against your mouth, you love the way it makes your lips vibrate.

“I’m yours If you will have me, sweetheart. I have always been yours.”

“Of course I want you, Cisco. I have always wanted you.”

“I can’t believe we have spent so much time being this fucking dumb.” He chuckles.

“Yeah, we have a lot of time to make up for.” You reply with a smile on your lips, leaning in to place another kiss on his mouth, already feeling addicted to his lips. “Why don’t we start making up for the lost time?” You ask him with your mouth still touching his lips while you gently grind your hips against him suddenly feeling a desperate need for now that you know how wonderful he feels.

“Is that what you want, sweetheart?” He says, squeezing your hips lightly with his big hands.

“Hell, yes.” You say before kissing him again deeply, feeling an urgent hunger for his taste. He groans satisfied into your mouth as your tongue slips between his lips and you lose yourself in the warmth of him. Your hands find their way to his hair, tangling your fingers in his locks, and you feel him smile against your lips before he lets out a low moan when your grip on his hair tightens, the sound makes a shiver run through your body and a enlight a fiery desire in your stomach. Your cunt clenches as his denim-clad thigh presses slightly against your pelvis and you can’t help but slightly grind against him.

Your movement makes him hum into the kiss, before pulling away, looking deeply into your eyes

Your hand reaches out for his, lacing your fingers in his and you start to pull him through your apartment to get him to your bedroom while he clumsily kicks off his shoes.

“Fuck, hermosa.” He pants out as the two of you fall back on your bed, you on your back, him hovering over you. “Can I taste you? I haven’t been able to stop thinking about how good you tasted.”

“Yes.” You croak, feeling how your pussy is dripping for him.

He grunts wide with need as he hooks his fingers in the waistband of your pajama pants, looking up at you for permission before slowly sliding them down your legs along with your panties, revealing more and more of your bare skin.

You see how his eyes widen with desire by the sight of your exposed pussy, wet and needy for his tongue. You spread your legs wider, offering him an even better view of your dripping cunt.

“God, you’re so gorgeous.” He sighs before lowering his head, kissing up your inner thigh until he reaches your pussy. He slides his tongue through your wet folds, lapping into you hungrily.

“Fuck, Cisco…” You whine out, his tongue has you seeing stars. Planting your hands in his hair, grabbing fistfuls of the messy locks that you love so much. He moans into your cunt, enjoying the feeling of your hands grabbing his hair, the vibrations making a hot shiver run through. He keeps lapping into you, making sure to nuzzle his nose against your clit and it is so fucking perfect. He moves his tongue to suck down on your clit and you whine out in pleasure, his name falling from your lips over and over again. You feel your climax approaching, whining as your pussy soaks his face, but Frankie doesn’t stop working his magic tongue on you. You can’t hold your orgasm back any longer.

“Fuck, Cisco!” You wail as your cunt clenches and your orgasm overwhelms you. Frankie keeps licking into you as you ride out your high until you get too sensitive and

Frankie gasps as his mouth finally detaches from your pussy, humming happily as he licks his lips that are glistening with your juices.

“Sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted.” He sighs, climbing up over your body to kiss your lips softly, making you taste yourself on his sweet lips. You wiggle under him, finding the hem of your t-shirt. Frankie leaning back a little, giving you space to pull the shirt over your head, flinging it across the room as you lay bare under him. He gasps at the view of your naked breast, sliding a broad warm hand from your hip up your side and finding the soft plump flesh of your breast, letting his fingers softly run over your nipple before gently kneading your soft tit, it has you whimpering with need for him.

“Cisco, please, I need you.”

“Okay, baby.” He coos at you before sliding his fingers into his mouth, wetting them with his salvia. He teases your entrance, before sliding his thick finger into you, soon adding another and you moan from the sensation. He pumps his fingers into you slowly, giving you time to adjust, but he is quick to pick up the pace, slightly scissoring his finger to prepare you for his cock, his thumb slowly circling your clit. The wet, squelching sound of his fingers working your pussy is hitting your ears and it is so hot.

“Such a gorgeous pussy...” He mutters in awe. “Taking my fingers so well.”

His fingers feel amazing, but you feel impatient and needy and what you want most of all is his cock inside of you.

“Cisco, I-I need you inside of me. Need your cock” You pant out.

“Fuck, baby. Need to be inside of you too.” He grunts. You whine slightly as he pulls his fingers out of you to fling off his shirt. He leans back, sitting back on calves as his fingers clumsily work on unbuckling his belt. He is quick to get rid of his jeans, leaving him in only his dark gray boxer briefs. You gasp at the impressive size of the bulge and feel how your mouth waters at the sight of the wet spot of precum staining the cotton. You reach out for him, palming his hard-on and giving it a light squeeze that has him lean forward, leaning his forehead against your shoulder, he lets out a desperate groan from deep within his chest.

You gasp as he finally slides off his underwear, making his cock spring free. He is rock hard, thick and throbbing, his tip red and dripping with precum. It’s the prettiest cock you have ever seen, you decide. You squeeze your thighs tightly together, the throbbing of your cunt reaches an almost unbearable level.

“Makes sense I was so sore after last week.” You mutter.

“You were sore?” He coos at you.

“Mhmm.” You nod at him, whining a little at the memory of how he had made you feel.

“Gonna be here to take care of you this time.” He says, leaning down to give you a reassuring kiss.

He strokes himself a few times, his eyes dark and hooded as they look down at you with awe, his lips slightly parted, before he leans down over you again. His lips find yours as he positions himself between your legs, guiding his cock to your entrance. He breaks the kiss and opens his eyes, his mouth still close enough for you to feel his breath against your lips as he asks you. “You sure you want this, baby?”

You take his face between your hands, gently caressing his cheeks while looking deep into those beautiful umber eyes that you love so much.

“Yes, Cisco. I want this.” You say before pulling his face closer, placing a sweet kiss on his lips. “Want you.” You add which makes him hum against your lips.

You let go of his face as you spread your legs a little wider to make it completely clear to him that you definitely want this.

He takes his time, letting your walls stretch out slowly, giving you time to adjust to the size of him. His eyes are flickering back and forth between your face and the place between you where more and more of his shaft slowly disappears into your soaked cunt until he is finally all the way in. You feel so stretched, so completely full. The size of him is both painful and absolutely euphoric.

“Fuck, baby… You feel so good, so warm and so fucking tight.” He moans, planting a sweet kiss on your shoulder.

The pain is quickly disappearing until the only thing left is a feeling of complete bliss and you can’t help but push your hips upwards, slightly grinding against him as the need for him to move inside you grows.

He grunts at your movement. “Ready?” He pants, which makes you nod eagerly.

“Mhm.” You hum. “Want you to move, Cisco.”

“Okay, baby.” He says, slowly sliding out of you until only his tip remains, grabbing your thighs to push your legs up, folding you in half so your knees are pressed up to your shoulders. His eyes lock with yours as he pushes himself into you again, you let out a surprised gasp as he slides all the way back into you in one slick thrust. The position he has you in is making him able to hit you deep, his cock pushing you into the mattress as he penetrates you. You let out a pleased moan, encouraging him to keep going and he eagerly repeats the movement.

He starts with a slow steady rhythm. He is whispering sweet praise at you and planting kisses on your mouth and the sides of your bent knees. He tells you how beautiful he finds you, how good you are making him feel and how much he loves you, how he always has loved you and how lucky he is to have you in his life. His thrusts are getting faster and faster, more desperate, more needy until he has picked up a borderline savage pace that has you whining and screaming with pleasure.

The angle of which he’s pounding into you is perfect, every strong thrust is hitting that sweet magical spot inside of you that is making your eyes teary and has you clinging to him for dear life. You feel the warm knot in your stomach tightening and tightening, warning you that your climax is getting closer and closer. Frankie’s heavy balls are hitting your ass with each strong thrust, making a loud slapping sound echo through the room along with the sound of the bed frame creaking and the headboard banging against the wall. It sounds so fucking sexy.

“Fuck, Cisco. I’m so close.”

“M-me too, baby.” He pants out

“Please, Cisco… Need to feel you fill me up.”

Your words have him groaning through clenched teeth. “I will, but I need you to come first, baby, please”

The desperation in his voice is all you need to hear. You clench down around him, soaking his cock as your orgasm washes over you in warm hot waves. His name is falling from your lips

You moan out as you feel him finishing inside you, filling you up with his warm release coating your walls with his cum.

You watch his handsome face twist with pleasure as he keeps pumping his cum deep into your pussy, you lean forward to plant a kiss on the bridge of his nose as he finally begins to slow his movements, his eyes slowly opening to look at you.

He kisses you, still not pulling out as you feel his cock slowly starting to soften inside you.

“How do you feel?” He asks when he finally breaks the kiss.

“So good, Cisco.” You smile at him, pressing a sweet kiss to the corner of his mouth. “So fucking good. You’re incredible.”

“Not as incredible as you.” He hums which makes you giggle slightly, sensing it will become a thing from now on, the two of you lovingly arguing over who is the most incredible.

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