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eternally-racing · 9 months ago

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kiss it better | lance stroll

pairing: lance stroll x reader

genre: fluff, smut (minors DNI)

warning: oral sex (m! receiving)

wc: 1.3k

summary: When you’re taking care of Lance after his biking injuries there’s a special place where he really wants you to kiss it better.

author’s note: yes, this is 100% inspired from me watching DTS and Lance’s scene with Lando LOL

- - -

The last 2 weeks had been an insane rollercoaster for you and Lance. What had started off as a fun experience biking with friends in Spain had turned into a nightmare as you and Lance spent the rest of your trip in the hospital.

You had been Lance’s angel throughout all of the recovery from his wrist injuries. Never before had either of you really thought about how much you do with your hands and feet, until you realized that it meant that Lance couldn't really do anything until the doctors had determined that he was recovered enough. “It would take more than a lifetime for me to repay you for this, baby” Lance always says as you help him out around the house. You truly didn’t mind it - doing the laundry, the grocery shopping, the cooking, the cleaning. “We do it for the people we love” you would always say. It’s because you knew that if the tables were turned that Lance would do the exact same for you, taking care of you 24/7 until you felt better.

Your generosity is what makes Lance feel especially guilty. In the last 2 weeks he had been nothing more than a couch potato while you seemed to balance ten thousand responsibilities. You were already doing so much for him, how could you possibly ask for more? But you were walking around the house in the tiniest little shorts and a bralette that really felt like it barely counted as actually covering your chest. Lance definitely wasn’t complaining but looking at you was weakening his resolve with every passing day. Today you had taken to putting away the laundry, and with every time you bent over he could feel his boxers start to tighten. It was getting unbearable really, and the horniness in Lance’s brain was making it short circuit.

“Y/N baby, can I get your help with something?”

It feels like you’re there at his bedside before he can even blink. Your doe eyes are looking at him in a way that makes him want to give you the whole universe and it’s enough to make Lance want to bail on his request.

“No, actually I changed my mind I don't need - “

“Baby, please - I’m here to help you. What do you need?” You perch yourself on the edge of his bed, busying yourself but organizing some things on the nightstand. Lance’s cheeks are bright red but now he can barely look you in the eye.

“It’s just been a really long time since I… yknow.” Lance glances down only slightly but it’s enough to give you an idea of what’s going on.

“Oh?”

“Oh.”

“Well, I think there’s something that I could do about that.” you smirk slightly.

Your hand slowly creeps towards where you know his cock lies under the bedsheets, and you gasp when you feel how hard it already is in your hands. You lean further down, laying your head so close, but still so far from where Lance wants you to be.

“No teasing baby” he mutters as he has to resist running a hand through your hair himself. The casts covering both his hands serve as a stark reminder of why he can’t do so even though he so badly wants to. You’re placing soft little kisses over top of the blanket, leaving the layers between you two as you creep closer towards his hardened length.

“I’m surprised I didn’t think of this before honestly. Like what were you going to do - suck your dick yourself?”

You have your hands laid across Lance’s thighs and you feel them clench at the statement, which makes your jaw drop in response.

“Oh my god, you’ve totally tried to suck your own dick before. This is the funniest thing I’ve ever heard of. If I wasn’t so horny right now I would make you tell me the story right now, but I definitely want to hear all about this later.” you laugh while still continuing your ministrations.

Your monologue gets a little long and Lance throws his head back and whines. When you pull back the covers and his boxers, Lance’s cock is the hardest you’ve ever seen it - the precum that sneaks out of the head only adds to your arousal as you lick your lips in anticipation . When you run your fingers over it gently it’s enough to make the Canadian boy shudder. You take your time as you kiss up and down the inside of his thighs, running your tongue over everywhere except where he needs you most.

“Please Y/N - I’ll beg, I’ll do anything. I’m just a guy who hasn’t cum in over 2 weeks and has the most beautiful girl in the world on his knees in front of him - I might just cum the minute you touch me.”

It’s music to your ears when you hear Lance moan as you lower your mouth onto his cock. You know his body so well that you know exactly what to do to have him seeing stars. His cock is hitting the back of your throat already and Lance can’t help the way his hips buck his cock further into you. Your hands come around to cover up the part of his length that you can’t fit in your mouth, working in tandem to make sure that you’re covering every single inch.

“You’re taking me so well princess, feels so fucking good.” Lance is filled with nothing but praise for you as your head bobs up and down on his length.

You’re gasping for air as you finally lift your head off Lance’s dick. You take it in your hands and slap your cheek a couple of times, enjoying the feeling of it against your skin. It’s when you reach to cup his balls in your hand that Lance truly feels like he’s in heaven, and he says exactly that. Even in your hands they feel full, so full of cum, and you can’t help but let out a moan yourself at the feeling. You give them each the attention they deserve before Lance begs for you to go back to his cock.

You can feel Lance’s hips start to stutter underneath you as he starts to lose control.

“Oh god Y/N I’m gonna cum, fucking hell.” Lance tries to lift your mouth off of him, telling you that he’ll cum wherever you’d like. There was no surprise that Lance was a tits man through and through and loved seeing thick ropes of his cum over your breasts. Sometimes you’d want it on your face, sticking your tongue out the catch as much cum as you can. But today you kept your head down, ignoring Lance’s warnings as you kept your nose buried firmly towards his pubic bone.

“Princess I’m really gonna - fuck, fuck, fuck” Lance keeps chanting your name as he cums.

There’s so much cum that you can’t keep it all in your mouth. It drips out of the corner of your mouth and down your chin which looks absolutely sinful. Lance wishes he could take a real photo but instead resolves to committing it to memory himself. As if that wasn’t enough, Lance moans watches you swallow, proudly showing off your clean tongue to him after the fact.

“Have I ever told you that you’re the most amazing girl in the entire world?” Lance says as he pulls you into a kiss.

“Maybe a couple times, but I could hear it again.” Even though Lance is always a charmer, his words still make you blush every time.

“How about I show you instead?” Lance gets you to lay on your back, switch your positions as he starts to nestle his face in between your thighs.

“Wait baby, I don’t want to hurt you - you’re still recovering.” The worry is evident in your voice as you stop him from diving in further.

“My wrists may be broken but my tongue works just fine, princess.” Lance says as he uses his teeth to pull down your panties.

— – – – —

author’s note: that scene in dts was so iconic that i just had to capture it in a fic! hope u all enjoyed it :) Until next time! - Em 🩷

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tiny-space-platypus · 4 months ago

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Never really fit back in

Part 2 Daniel or Danyal or Danny?

Danyal took a deep breath. There was only one person who could bring him to his brother. One person who could get him into the Wayne household. Vlad Masters, his godfather, though things were getting better with Vlad it was still awkward. He doubted he'd ever fully trust him but he was the only adult around who knew what he was and at least for right now wasn't trying to kill him for it. Plus he had access to the Wayne Galas and as his heir Danny did too.

"Daniel" Vlad smiled at him and offered him a seat at his table. "I was quite surprised when you asked to have a meeting with me" Danyal took a seat as dinner was served to them. He hesitated before speaking. Danny had been trying to prepare what to say to Vlad all day but now he was here, his mind went blank.

"I-" He paused as he pursed his lips before stealing his nerves once again. "I'd like to take up your offer of being your heir." Vlad stopped moving for a second as his smile faltered. he stared at Daniel. The silence was deafening. Danyal continued or well rambled after an uncomfortably long few minutes of silence. "The Fenton household hasn't felt safe in.. Well it's never been safe but ever since my accident it's just gotten worse. The house is always attacking me, even though my parents- Even though Maddie and Jack know I'm Phantom now that hasn't stopped them- actually I think they've just been ignoring me. And-"

"Daniel,"

"Since Jazz left for college, I've only really had Sam and Tucker but-"

"Daniel"

"They're now busy preparing for their own futures and all that-"

"Daniel!" Vlad spoke a little louder silencing Danny again then sighed. "I will gladly take you in, Daniel. It's the least I can do for you" Danyal relaxed a bit, though not too much. Vlad might be better now but he's still a power hungry fruitloop. Danny still had to be careful but at least Vlad's manor wasn't actively trying to destroy him. At least Vlad acknowledged his existence. And so Danny's new life began.

A few new changes happened after he started to live with Vlad. One he changed his legal name to Danyal (it just felt more real), he and Vlad still argue over changing his last name over to Masters but Danny's not ready for that. Danny had to start taking etiquette classes from both Dorothy and Vlad, Vlad had gotten him plenty of suits and other more comfortable clothes, and Danny had full access to his lab. Though Danny didn't go down there often, it gave him the creeps in a bad way. Most labs did at this point. Instead he had taken over a large room and had a work desk where he tinkered on what ever her felt like tinkering on, or schoolwork, or the loads of paper work he had to do for the Infinite Realms. It was kind of nice having Vlad help with that though at least someone could explain what half of it meant and wasn't as secretive as Clockwork.

Four months passed and things were going great actually. Things were finally starting to feel alright again, maybe this was the best decision. Eventually Danny did tell Vlad about being Damian's brother only because he would have to confront Damian at the Wayne Christmas gala.

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

Damian just like his other siblings dreaded the galas but they were important. It was important to keep building relationships with the public and the rich. It was important to keep a mask on and play the very rich found family of Brucie Wayne. It was important to keep their night life out of the picture.

Damian got ready with his siblings as usual. He listened and complained with them about the Gala as Jason laughed and praised being "dead". At least being the youngest meant he wasn't as bothered by the guests as the rest of his siblings were. All he had to do was introduce himself to the guests, have his picture taken a thousand times and lurk around the party. A boring night that would be much better spent on patrol. Though he was just has confident that the others could Patrol Gotham without them as his father.

The gala was about normal, he greeted guests with his father as Tim went out to do some networking. Dick playing as his usual self, Cass lurking around, Steph tormenting people by being her eccentric self, and Duke wandering around and making small talk. The night was normal till Masters arrived.

By that point Damian had broken off from his father and went to see and spend time with his siblings. Though something felt off after about a half hour. Damian went to report this to his father only to find him still speaking with Masters who had a boy with him. He paid no mind to him. "Father there's-" Damian paused then looked at the boy standing next to Masters who was smiling at him.

Danyal. That was Danyal. That was Danyal. That was Danyal.

Damian just stared at Danny with a look of horror that his father caught quickly. Before Bruce could pull Damian away he heard his brother speak.

"Hello, Damian. It's nice to see you again"

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

Bruce had never seen his son like that before. He had never seen that look on his son's face before. Something had to be wrong he just didn't know what yet. Bruce excused both himself and Damian from the Masters and brought Damian over to the others. He looked at his son who looked both terrified and shell shocked. Bruce spoke softly.

"Damian, are you alright chum?"

Damian started to hyperventilate and mumble in Arabic. Damian normally spoke in Arabic when upset but this was very clearly different. Bruce brought Damian to his room, not because he was in trouble but because he was freaking out and needed some quiet. That night for the first time Damian openly cried in front of Bruce. That night for the first time Damian held onto Bruce like his life depended on it and sobbed. That night for the first time Damian sobbed into his father.

Bruce didn't know what the Masters did to his son but they won't get away with it. That he swore. He'll have Tim and Barbara look into them later for now his son needs him.

#dc x dp #danny phantom #dcu #bruce wayne #damian wayne #demon twins au #vlad plasmius #redeemed-ish Vlad #he is still doing this to have a little more power in the realms but rn he's more helpful than not so whatever #good dad bruce wayne #protective dad Bruce Wayne #trying to portray Danny struggling with who he is by constantly switching up his name. hopefully that made sense or could be picked up on?#danny gave Damian a panic attack:)#danny probably also will have a panic attack after realizing he gae his brother a panic attack :)))#Never Really Fit Back In

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captainreecejames · 5 months ago

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Just Friends || MV1 Oneshot

part of the my ex is a footballer series [masterlist] [my ex series masterlist] [max smau]

pairings max verstappen x reader with some ex!ben chilwell x reader in the smau part, danielle campbell is the faceclaim but reader is not described in this part so imagine however

word count 5.2k

warnings talks about depression, injuries and blood dealing with hands, hospitals and medical stuff, mentions of jos verstappen, cursing, angst and fluff, not proofread so probably shitty writing and mistakes

notes this took longer than I initially imagined because i was stuck on how to get it started, but after a good nights sleep and words of encouragement from @coff33andb00ks I got this puppy started. This fic includes Adrian Newey as the point red bull person so I could avoid horner and max as an almost dog dad because I'm a dog person. It starts in the middle of the 2022 season and goes through the 2023 season. If there is enough interest, I might continue to write these two together because I really enjoyed it and there is more to explore.

songs to listen to while reading you're losing me-taylor swift / so long, london-taylor swift / same mistakes-one direction / lose you to love me-selena gomez

You met Max on accident, according to you. When you talked to your father about it years later, you would learn it was no accident.

He was golfing with Adrian Newey and more coworkers but had forgotten his wallet, so he asked you to drop it off.

Now you knew he worked at Red Bull, so really it shouldn’t have come as a surprise that you would eventually meet Max Verstappen, but you walked into the country club expecting to meet some older man, not the reigning Formula 1 world champion.

How'd Max know who to approach? Your father had shown him a picture of you so he would know who to look for. While you were searching the lobby, Max had come up to you, saying your name.

You had plenty of experience meeting famous people, even one’s who knew your name before meeting (perks of dating a football star) but it was still a shock.

The meeting consisted of shy words and you fumbling around your bag for your father’s wallet and that’s it. No matter how much experience you had with famous athletes, it would still be weird meeting them. You wouldn’t see Max again for a few weeks, he was busy with races and staying in Monaco.

The next time would be at the base, once again you were dropping something off for your dad. This time it was lunch that he just insisted he needed, not whatever was being served in the cafe that day.

You stood in the lobby, waiting for your father to get out of a meeting, admiring the trophies on display when Max came up to you.

He will argue in the future that you admiring his trophies made him interested, and that he wasn’t over a little bragging if it got the attention of a pretty girl. That argument ignores the scheming that your father and Adrian had done, from complaining about your lack of interest in the sport to complaining about you needing to get out more. (Your lack of interest in the sport wasn’t true, just that you preferred Ferrari over the local team.)

So with the subliminal messaging from your father, Max was interested in you.

“I thought you didn’t really like the sport,” he said coming to stand at your side.

You jumped slightly, not expecting anyone to approach you. “Why would you think that?”

“Your father.” You turn to him with a confused face and Max decided to clarify. “He talks about you a lot.”

“Oh, well, I wouldn’t listen to half of what he says.”

“Really? Even when he talks about the chassis?” His words are teasing and you think he’s flirting with you.

“Maybe that you can listen to.” You shrug, turning back to the cabinet. “He’s really just jealous that I prefer Ferrari.”

Of fucking course, the Italian team. “A fan of Leclerc?” You can hear the bitterness in his voice and it shocks you a little how quickly he changes his mood.

“He’s okay,” you shrug again. Max thinks that your nonchalantness is annoying, why can’t you just admit you find Charles hot and move on.

(Hidden in the stairwell, Adrian and your father are a little nervous. They can tell that this isn’t going as well as hoped.)

“Schumacher has been my favorite, but I think of the current drivers its Vettel.” Now Max realizes that the two of you are standing in front of Sebastian’s 2010 championship trophy, and he feels a little embarrassed he didn’t realize sooner. “I’m a little bitter he didn’t win the championship with Ferrari.”

There are more “chance” meetings, but the conversation flows much easier now. Like the dinner at Adrian Newey’s house and after, when he has to give you a ride back to your new place because your parents don’t want to leave yet. Or the time when it’s suggested that you give him a ride to Luton airport because it’s on your way to London. Or even the holiday party at the end of the year where he has to give you a ride again because you’re tipsy and shouldn’t drive.

It’s the airport drive when you both realize that you’re being set up by Adrian and your father, which causes a lot of awkwardness between the both of you during your goodbyes.

You go back home a few days later and scold your father for the set up. You don’t need another relationship right now, you tell him. He says he knows, but Max makes you happy in a way he hasn’t seen in years and that makes him happy. Your mother reminds him that you need to be happy without a man first and he says he’ll give up the endeavors to push you on to Max. If Adrian happens to come up with any more ideas that's not his fault, the man is a genius afterall.

The holiday party is more of an accident than anything, your father and mother leave much earlier than you, and so you are stuck with Max to drive you home.

He complained about the hotel he was staying at, so you offer him some time in your apartment to get away from fancy places and he takes you up on it. And now that you're home, it does’t seem like a bad idea to have another drink, just to take the edge off of having Max in your place.

“Would you like another drink?” you offer while making your own gin and tonic. He stares around at the quiet kitchen, taking in the place that feels very you. “Or perhaps some tea?” He shakes his head no, eyes catching a picture of you hugging Ben. It’s an old picture, from when Leicester City won the league and you’ve only recently dug it out of the box it was sitting in.

“I thought you were single,” he says, picking up the picture to examine it closer.

“I am,” you answer, turning around from the counter to look at him. You’re about to ask him where the question came from when you see what’s in his hands. “That’s from 2016, when Leicester City won the league.” Max nods like he understands, but he doesn’t.

“Who’s this?” he points to Ben.

“Ben Chilwell.” Maybe if you’re just vague enough, he’ll drop it. He doesn’t.

“Okay,” he draws it out. “Who is he to you?”

Not much of anything anymore, is what you want to say. You settle for something vague again. “A friend.”

“Looks like more than a friend.” Is Max trying to provoke you or something? He can tell you’re growing frustrated with him and it makes him feel guilty. “Sorry, I just, don’t know much about your life before here.”

You sigh, deciding that alcohol probably isn’t the best drink for now. You move to the kettle next to the stove, opting for tea to help calm you down.

“Ben and I dated until a couple months ago, I moved back home right after we broke up.” He nods along with your story and you continue the tea making process. “Ben and I were childhood sweethearts, together since we were like 14 years old. So that makes,” it takes you a minute to do the math in your head, “12 years together.” You don’t turn to see what Max’s face looks like. A lot of people during your relationship with Ben were in awe of how long you were together, but there were some who thought it was silly and childish. Who stayed with someone they were dating since 14? (Apparently not you.)

You thought it was romantic up until a few months before the break up. Childhood sweethearts, best friends to lovers, boy next door, all tropes you loved in books and you were living it in real life! Until it wasn’t. Until you moved in the middle of a pandemic to a new city with no support system and became depressed. Until Ben needed support you and you couldn’t make yourself see that giving him everything was leaving you with nothing.

It took an intervention from your parents to see that you were depressed, and an offhand comment about marriage from Ben to see that the relationship wouldn’t go anywhere new.

“What happened?”

“He didn’t want to marry me.”

“I’m just not sure I’m want to marry her, yet,” Ben says to the group. There’s a pause before he says yet, like someone made a face and he’s trying to placate them.

What the fuck? you want to ask. You want to scream it, really, because what the fuck does he mean by that? You’ve been together for over ten years, he’s said since Leicester that he only wants you, for the rest of his life. And now... now he doesn’t know? How the fuck do you not know? How can he not know? It makes you angry, the most emotion you’ve felt in probably months and it’s anger at your boyfriend.

Your grip on your glass is tightening, turning your knuckles white with the force and you worry the glass will shatter in your hand.

It does, but you don’t feel it. You don’t hear the glass shattering in your hand or on the floor, don't feel the splash of ice, gin, and tonic on your legs.

What you feel is something akin to clarity, because you’ve been living in a fog for months, probably the two years you’ve been in London and now you know how Ben feels. If he doesn’t want to marry you now, he probably won’t ever want it.

It takes your friend coming over and putting a hand on your shoulder for you to realize that something is physically wrong. That your hand is bleeding from glass cuts and you’re standing in a puddle of water and alcohol and some blood.

Emma says your name a little louder to grab your attention and now people are staring at you, wondering what’s caused the glass to shatter in your hand. She ignores them, pulling you across the room so she can take care of you.

Unfortunately, the glass is too deep and you have to be taken to an emergency room, where the nurses and doctors fuss over your hand. They ask you questions about how it happened, you explain that a glass shattered in your hands. They're suspicion is eased when Emma corroborates your story. It's soon after that you're allowed to go home.

All this time, Ben hasn’t come running into the room desperate to find you, and that reminds you why you’re here in the first place. Because Ben isn’t sure he wants to marry you.

“That’s how you got the scars on your hand?” Max is gentle when he takes your hand in his, holding it so delicately like you might break. You nod, but don’t pull away from him. His touch is soft and it makes you feel something you haven’t felt in a while. His hand turns so you can see the own scar on his hand. “I got this one from Jimmy, my cat.” He lets you run a finger over the scratch on the back of his hand. You run your hand over it one more time and Max get’s goosebumps from your touch.

You look up at him from your hands, your eyes roaming his face and seeing how sincere he is. It makes you nervous.

You pull your hands back, stepping away to grab a mug for your tea and busy your hands with something besides his own.

Max can see you close off on him, but the story isn’t over yet. “What happened after the hospital?”

“Are you going to tell me why this happened?” Emma asks finally, walking with you out of the ED. She’s stayed the whole time, occasionally popping out to call your other friends and update them on the situation.

It’s on the tip of your tongue to tell her, but you know what she’ll say: 'break up with him already, it’s not going anywhere and you’re obviously hurting over this. '

It’s not what you want to hear, you love Ben so much because you’ve always loved him, he’s all you’ve ever known and it used to be so good, so you know it can go back to being good.

It has to. You need it to.

So you try to laugh it off, say that your grip is much stronger than you thought and that there must have been a hairline fracture in the glass.

But Emma doesn’t buy it. She lets you try to joke your way out of this, lets you laugh uncomfortably as she stares at you, and then pulls you to a halt at the corner. Your uneasy smile falls and you sigh. You know better than to try and hide this from her.

“Ben said something,” it’s a whisper, like the quieter you say it makes it hurt less. She waits for you to continue, knowing that you’ll explain if she doesn’t push too hard. You take a deep breath, hoping that the air will do something, anything to make it easier to say out loud. “He’s not sure if he wants to marry me.” You hold the pause like he did, adding the yet in a pointed tone. With how much Ben has hurt you, you still want to spare him the criticism. You love him.

Emma immediately goes off, like you know she would, so you tune it out. It’s nothing you haven’t heard in the last year.

The traffic light turns green, and you begin your walk back to the carpark, looking around the spaces to find your friend's car.

“YN!” another voice shouts. It’s Ben.

He’s jogging to you across the lot, eyes a little wide like he’s been panicking for a while. “Why didn’t you grab me before leaving?” He means to direct the question to Emma, but he’s looking at you and you feel like he’s blaming you. “I was looking for you across the house until someone finally told me that you left for the emergency department. I was worried sick.” He looks it, you think. He does care. He wouldn’t look like that if he didn’t care. “You weren’t answering your phone, and-“ he cuts himself off as he stares at your hand. “What the hell happened?”

Oh- he doesn’t know.

“She heard you,” Emma answers. You want to stop her, explain for yourself so you can just go home and sleep.

“What?” Ben asks, confusion across his face for a second before he realizes. You heard him. You heard him. “You weren’t meant to hear that.”

That’s his excuse?

“That’s your excuse?” Emma takes the words from of your mouth, but not the anger from your body, you clench your bandaged hand, wincing when it pulls at the stitches. Ben is still looking at you, but you’re unable to read him. “She wasn’t meant to fucking hear that?” Her voice is shrill and it grates on you because of a headache, but you know she means well. “You know what, fuck you Ben Chilwell! Go fucking rot in ditch!” With that she pulls you away from him, rushing the two of you towards her car so she can drive you to her home.

“That’s his excuse?” Max’s tone is just like Emma’s on that night and still you want to defend Ben. Your relationship is long over with the footballer, but that doesn’t mean you don’t love him.

“I was a mess then,” you tell him, pouring your water into the cup, “I wouldn’t want to marry me either.”

“But he loved you, and you don’t say something like that about someone you love.” Max looks angry next to you, and that scares you even more. Not because of his anger, but because he clearly cares so much and you’re not sure if you deserve it.

“Listen to me,” Max grabs your arms, pulling you to face him in your small kitchen. “Friends, boyfriends, people who love you-“ (Do his hands squeeze you harder on friends or boyfriends?) “They don’t talk about you like that behind your back. And also they notice when you’re gone, when you’re hurt, when you aren’t’ yourself.”

“But he was also hurting,” there are tears in your eyes from his words because you believe them, but also you still love Ben.

“And so were you, clearly. Yet you could tell something was wrong with him and he couldn’t see it in you?” Max has known you for only a few months, and has spent even less time physically with you, but he sees you and the way your brain works so clearly and that’s really scary. He must see something in your eyes because then he backs off, taking a step away to put distance between your bodies and space to breathe.

“Sorry,” he apologizes, “I didn’t mean to get so intense.” You shake your head, trying to put away the thoughts of his beautiful blue eyes staring into your own. “Just sometimes, I really want people to know that they deserve better.”

“No, it’s okay.” You pull the tea bag out of the water, looking down for the tiny plate to leave it on. “You’re not the first person to say that to me and you probably won’t be the last.” He nods, watching you spoon sugar into the tea. “But thank you for saying that, sometimes," you pause, "sometimes, it’s good to be reminded.”

Your friendship grows from there, but it doesn’t evolve into anything romantic. You’re clearly still healing from Ben and no matter how much he thinks about you while he’s in Monaco or off at a race, you need time.

So instead your flat becomes his base when he’s needed at the factory. He can leave clothes and toiletries at your place without worry, he can sneak a nice home cooked meal from you or your parents when he’s there, and he doesn’t have to deal with shitty hotel mattresses. (Even though it’s a Five Star hotel.)

He meets your friends when a girls night overlaps with some sim testing. They really like him and can see that his awkward charm has pulled you in.

You meet Danny Ric at the beginning of the 2023 season, when Red Bull decides to make him their reserve driver, and the two of you are like two peas in a pod. (On the plane back to Monaco Danny asks him when he’s finally going to ask you out.)

(Max shakes his head and tells him that you two are just friends, because that’s what you need. Just friends.)

Max invites you to the Monaco Grand Prix, but you decline, not interested in the media scrutiny that comes with that particular race. You say yes to the Spanish Grand Prix in Barcelona, but after he peaks at the invite list he tells you it’s probably not the best idea. You agree with him when you finally get him to tell you why you're uninvited. The Silverstone Grand Prix is during a girls trip, and with how busy it gets, you both drop the subject for a while.

When Max clinches his third championship in Qatar you finally decide that you need to go to a race. The next one is in Texas, but it doesn’t work with your schedule so you get the passes for Mexico.

The Mexican Grand Prix is the perfect race to join. It’s Checo’s home race, so the focus is on him instead of Max. You stand to the back of the garage, hiding from view on Friday and Saturday. Occasionally you’ll talk with some engineers you’ve met before or share a few minutes with Adrian, but most of the time is in hiding Max’s drivers room with him.

Most of Sunday is spent talking with the stars in the garage, explaining why you’re here and how you know people. You avoid any interviews with Sky Sports, knowing that somehow they’ll bring up Ben and Chelsea’s current run of form, something that you just can’t deal with.

So you stay in the back of the garage, celebrate the podium in the back of the crowd and don’t wait up for Max to finish media duties, instead heading back to the hotel. It hurts to hide yourself away, you want to be the first to congratulate him on a win, or comfort him after a loss. But it’s for the best, you try convince yourself. You're just friends.

Max isn’t bitter about the decision at all. Being noticed at this race is a beacon to all fans that you are something to someone, and no matter how much he maybe wants that to be true, you’re just friends. Besides you have dinner with him and a few of the drivers and their own significant others, so really what more could he ask for?

After the season is over he’s back in Milton Keynes to finish up some things before heading out to start his holidays. Most of them will be spent with his family in Belgium or in Monaco, so he is determined to at least spend a day with you before leaving. He wasn’t planning on it being at a dog shelter.

“I think I want a dog,” you had told him while in Mexico. You’d spent a year alone in the flat (not counting Max practically moving in when he was needed at HQ) and things were too quiet for you.

“Okay.” You were relaxing in his driver’s room before Free Practice 2. You’re both on the couch, him with an iPad going over some data and you with your feet up on his lap researching shelters on your phone. The domesticity of it all was frustrating.

“Are you allergic to dogs?” you ask. You know about Jimmy and Sassy back in Monaco, and he really doesn’t seem like dog person at all, but his opinion on this matters to you. His opinion on the most mundane and trivial things now matter to you. He doesn’t pay rent and so he doesn’t get the final say on anything, but if it makes life easier in Milton Keynes, you want to know what he thinks.

“No, I just prefer cats.” You nod, scrolling through the shelter’s website, looking at dogs and trying to decide which one looks like it needs love the most. “Lewis knows a lot about dogs, you can ask him about it.” It’s hard to get the sentence out, because Lewis having a say in something about your life just isn’t right.

You shake your head no. “Lewis Hamilton doesn’t sleep in my spare bedroom.” It’s the same argument you make every time you suggest changing something in flat, and while it annoys him that you won’t take any money to pay for small stuff, it still makes him smile.

“What do you think about this one?” you show him a picture of a Jack Russell Terrier, coincidentally named George.

“If you get him you need to change his name.”

“Why?” You ask in fake offense. “I think he looks very much like a George.” But you move on anyway, terriers are too active for your lifestyle, you wouldn’t be able to give him the love he deserves.

You keep on scrolling, feet still in his lap, him still looking through his iPad. You gasp suddenly, pushing yourself up and moving your legs so you can sit on them, much closer to Max. “Look!” you shove your screen in his face. “They just rescued a corgi with puppies! I love corgis!” He can see the excitement in your face and knows that he won’t ever say no to you if you look like that again.

You pull your phone back, reading through the description quickly. “We are keeping Mama and puppies together for a few weeks to ensure health, puppies will be available for adoption in December. Please register interest.” You're pulling out your laptop to send an email when you're done.

Later that night, when you’re trying to sleep you admire how he let you rant about this dog that you’re getting. You love how he always indulges you on topics about your flat; you love that he’ll watch a shitty tv show with you and listen to you rant about the characters. You love that when you ask him questions about racing he answers with so much sincerity and interest that you can’t help but want to know more. You love so much about him that you think you might love him.

No, you know you love him.

That’s how you got here, with Max at a shelter picking up a tiny corgi. Max has been carrying the collar and leash and necessary paperwork as you play with the small dog, contagious laughter falling from your lips.

“Think I should name him Charles, what do you think?” You look up from the ground, eyes so bright and happy. The smile on your face is teasing, but he misses the name because it hits him.

He’s in love with you.

He’s unable to answer you with his sudden realization, because the only words he can think of are “I love you” or long strings of curse words.

You think he doesn’t like your joke and try to back track right away. “I’m kidding, obviously. I’m not gonna name him Charles.” Still Max only stares. “Is everything okay?” You stand up, still holding the puppy in your hands. “I promise I’m not going to name him Charles, but I’m sorry for the joke.” The puppy barks in your arms, snapping Max out of his trance. “What do you need, little one?” You ask the dog, momentarily forgetting Max’s presence. That’s what he needs, just a few seconds of you not looking at him to get his thoughts in line. He can’t be in love with you, because you don’t need a boyfriend. Just friends.

Except he can be in love with you. Because you make him smile all the time, because you offered your spare bedroom to him so he didn’t have to deal with a shitty hotel mattress, because you send him pictures of cats you meet on the street, and let him over explain when you have questions about races. You deal with his mood swings when Jos contacts him. (It’s more than just dealing. You comfort and distract and do anything he needs.)

And maybe you do need just a friend still, but he can still love you.

It takes 20 minutes for you to finish up the paperwork for the shelter, which Max spends playing with the dog and he decides maybe he could be a your dog person.

The ride back to your place is short, your minds replaying the same moment when you asked him what you should name the little puppy sleeping in the back. You feel bad, like you've insulted him; he’s trying to come up with a way to tell you what he’s realized.

Nothing happens that night, and nothing happens when he leaves for Monaco the next morning.

Texts between the two of you comprise of pictures of Denny the corgi, Jimmy and Sassy the cats, and updates on how people liked their presents. It feels off, but you have no idea how to make it feel right.

On December 30th, you plan to catch your flight to Nice, but your father gets into an accident and you can’t leave your mom to deal with everything on your own. You say sorry to Max repeatedly, tell him to wish everyone there a Happy New Year and focus back on the quiet life with Denny.

On December 31st, you wake up to the smell of coffee and toast. It’s alarming because no one else is here, so why does it smell like breakfast?

You push open the door cautiously, forgetting for a moment that Denny is there, so he sneaks out the tiny crack. “Denny! No!” you whisper-shout, hurrying after the little guy, all regard for your own safety lost. You find him in the arms of Max, licking his face and wiggling his butt with untamed excitement. “Max?”

“Hi, schatje.” His smile is almost enough to distract you from the fact that he is here. You approach the two slowly, grabbing Denny from his arms to put him down.

“What are you doing here?” Denny paws at you, reminding you that he needs to go out and do his business.

Max ignores your question, instead pushing a mug of coffee into your hands. “Take this, I’ll take Denny outside.” He grabs Denny from the floor again, making his way to the front where you have his leash hanging up. “Be right back, schatje.” You can only nod at him, watching the two walk out of the front door.

They’re back in two minutes, enough time for you to put out Denny’s breakfast and drink some of your coffee in peace, trying to wrap your mind around the fact that Max is here. The door opens and Denny comes rushing in, Max close behind. He hangs up the leash with his keys, then turns back to you with a smile.

Max takes his own mug, leaning his back against the counter to watch you. “Why are you here?” you ask again.

“You said you couldn’t come to Monaco for New Year’s, so I thought I’d come here.” He says it so casually it irritates you. “Plus, I can take some work off of you or your mom when dealing with your Dad.”

Oh, he’s being sweet. “You don’t have to do that.”

“Yeah, but I want to help someone I love.” He says that so casually it catches you off guard. Thank god you didn’t have anything in your mouth or you would have definitely spit it out.

He smirks over his cup, watching you splutter for an answer to his simple confession. “You… you love me?” He nods then puts his mug down. A few steps over to you and he grabs the one in your hands, putting that down next to his own. With his other hand he moves to cup the back of your neck, pulling you closer to him. You want to ask what he’s doing, try to stop this before it can even start, but Max is determined. (You’re grateful for that.)

There’s almost no space left between the two of you, just enough really for him to be able to look at your face while he asks if this is okay. A gulp, a breath, and a nod later he’s dipping his head down to yours, closing the distance, and kissing you.

Your eyes close instantly. Your hands travel to their own accord, reaching up to lock around his neck and keep him close. Your ears ring for some odd reason and your nose can only smell coffee. You can taste red bull on his lips and you wonder how long he's been up.

The kiss is soft and slow and over before you really have a chance to appreciate it.

You open your eyes to see him, his lips spread in a wide smile that has you blushing. “Been waiting to do that for a while.” That has you blush even deeper, but he doesn’t let you dip your head to hide it. “Seriously, schatje. I love you.”

“I love you too.” It’s a whisper, but he doesn’t miss it with how close you are. But even if he had missed it, you’ll say it so many more times in the future that people get sick of it.

#max verstappen #max verstappen imagine #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen x fem!reader #max verstappen one shot #formula 1 imagine #formula 1 oneshot #read #danielle writes #my ex is a footballer series

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moondirti · 6 months ago

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Hellloooo🖤 I’m the anon who asked about the Safehouse story!

My brain, unfortunately, is not nearly as wrinkly as yours so I cannot come up with creative ideas like you 😂 BUT! I have a few ideas? Maybe? If you can call them that lol.

Was the spanking the first physical interaction they had? What did the morning after that look like?

What happens if reader has a nasty mental health episode & tries to hide it from Ghost?

Does the pet thing progress? I think we all know that Ghost has a thing for the pet play. I don’t even care, that’s totally canon for me at this point.

Would you ever consider writing about the general dynamic they have? Like the “rules” Ghost might have for them?

Totally and completely a self indulgent ask from someone who just had to pull themselves out of a nasty mental health episode lmao I’m so sorry please ignore this if it’s annoying or dumb!

shh i love all of these. i have so many thoughts now / prev

cw: dubcon d/s lifestyle. petplay. controlling behaviour. possessiveness. panic attacks. toxicity. noncon collaring. financial manipulation. mention of self harm. brief fluff.

Your thing with Simon is hard to contextualise.

Or even understand, really.

Parts of it are welcome. He asserts himself in a way you haven't found in the nobodies you've hooked up with previous, happy to fuck you dumb if it means you'll surrender yourself completely. Which you do. You listen intently and follow every direction he gives in bed, and as a reward he wrings orgasm after orgasm from your squirming body. You cum more in one week than you have in the past month, never not naked and sore, wrists tender from where he anchors his hand to keep them pinned above your head. You hear puppy more than your own name, at this point. And it's a concerning because– Well...

You don't mind it.

But you still don't like him.

It isn't like you necessarily need to like your partners in order to have a good time, but it certainly helps if you can tolerate them beyond a dick-in-hole condition. Simon is an anomaly in that he is the worst person you know, whilst also serving as the best lay you've ever had.

That is to say, his habits haven't changed. He's a fucking terror to live with. Nightmare flatmate, the type you see strangers complain about on reddit forums or hear in a friends story from their sister's husband's cousin. Not something you would take seriously until you live the experience – now existing as a sore, precautionary tale you'll no doubt be pitching to anyone also considering subleasing their place as a safe house.

Perhaps it's made worse by the sexual element you share. Before, he had just been your average perverse man, stealing clothes and walking in on you in the bathroom. Now, it seems that sleeping with him has given him the go-ahead to push that behaviour to an extreme. He'll pat your ass while you go about your business, or tug your hair when you raise your voice. Treats you like a pet that has yet to be debarked; just a silly, sub-human way of entertainment.

You can't help but feel you enabled it. But no–

The pet play is cute when he's drilling your brains out – and perhaps only because you can't think straight enough to raise concern – but you're not a dog. Nor do you want to be treated like one throughout all hours of the day. The onus is on him for not catching the hint.

But of course, accountability isn't in his lexicon.

Things only get worse from there.

"An' where d'you think you're going?"

You're halfway out of the door when he catches you leaving.

If you had been more iron-willed, you would slip out and scurry away before he can continue whatever spiel he has stirring. Instead, it's instinct to shrivel in on yourself, clicking the door shut before turning to face the behemoth waiting in the foyer.

"Out." You huff, intent on cold-stoning him. But it's a fools game when your opponent in the broad-shouldered lieutenant – for he merely cocks his head, waiting your silence out with more silence, and it's all you can do to bite your tongue against the deluge of excuses that pile up. "My mates thought it would be a good idea to catch brunch. Y'know– to celebrate the start of summer break. It's a nice day out so..." You gesture to your attire, like you have any reason to justify a sundress to some man you are in no way committed to.

But you can read the possessive gleam of his eyes as they take stock of your appearance: from your expensive mules, up your moisturised legs, to the low cut of your décolletage. It's easy to connect it to that look he had when you came back home that fateful night, the look of warning before he'd taken you over his lap and slapped your ass raw.

And for some odd reason, you're compelled to dig yourself out of trouble.

"Hm. It is a nice day, innit?" You nod a bit too quick. He stalks closer. "Lots of people out." Your nod is a little less enthusiastic. He's centimetres away now. "Some bad, bad men too."

He lifts the ends of your dress, slowly. Your next words quiver on their way out your chest. It's alarming to find that they don't sound nearly as assertive as you intend for them to be, not like they do horny.

"Where are you going with this?"

Your skirt pools around your hips now, held up by one hand as the other smooths over with the gusset of your panties.

"You plan on lettin' them have at this puppycunt? Have I not been givin' it enough attention?" He mockingly coos, pressing harder against the mound between your legs. Your knees grow weak. Not of your own accord, but weak nonetheless, and you have to hold onto his wrist to keep yourself upright. "Is tha' it?"

"N-No–"

"No? But that's what they'll think seeing you walk around like this, silly thing. Poor, neglected mutt, they'll say. Don't have a firm hand to keep 'er in line." Simon tuts, releasing his grip on your dress to pull something out of his back pocket. With the way he crowds into you, you can't crane your head to see what it is. "Now we can't have tha'. I spoil my girl rotten, wouldn' you say?"

"Yes. Yes but–"

"No buts, pup. Have ta stake my claim on you somehow." Something clicks. All too suddenly, you're made aware of the new weight on your neck. It tightens against the column of your throat – not enough to constrict your airways, but enough so that it hinders the way you move. "There we go. So pretty like this."

Panic seizes you, the steel fist of paralysis capturing your muscles in a vice-like clutch. Even as Simon pulls away, you're almost scared to find yourself in the nearest mirror. Scared of what you'll find dangling between your collarbones. There's no mistaking the textured leather that presses against your skin, nor the soft clink of metal hanging from it. No fooling yourself that this is all some cruel joke, not with the sick leer of satisfaction that warps his face.

Stumbling, you navigate to the bathroom and blindly turn on a light.

That cruel fuck.

"Simon," Your voice is devoid of the anger you feel roaring through your veins, circuiting through the frenzied stutter of your heart to find new passion. Instead, you sound horrified. Near hysterical, choking on your own pleas as you run back to the foyer. Your hands tug at the collar clasped around your neck, desperately searching for a buckle that will aid you in ripping it off, despite seeing the lock latched right at the centre that tells of its permanence. What's more, he had it engraved with a crude variation of a dog collar tag. If lost, leave alone. Or else count your days. "S-Simon, Simon please. Fuck– take it off. Take it off, take it off! I don't want this, I don't want... This isn't funny. I'll change if that's what it takes. Please."

Snot bursts from your nose, cheeks wet with a hot mess of tears. You can't suppress the hiccups that interrupt your begging like pathetic shots to the chest, or the weak hits you beat across his pecs. If you could, then perhaps he would give your tantrum more weight.

As it stands, you're nothing but a feral creature resisting training.

"Shhh. Pets can' speak. Pets don't cry." His thumbs press to your under eyes, tamping the flow of brine that mark steady tracks from your lashes. "You'll ruin your makeup like this."

"Si–"

He stare hardens into something dangerous. Against your better judgment, you clamp your lips shut.

"That's it. You're s'good when you listen to me, pup." Once he's sure you've stopped crying, he removes his thumbs to instead push one into your mouth. You can taste the salty residue of your tears on his fingertips. "Now, this is the bes' of both worlds, see? You can go see your friends with this on. I know pets need their playtime, af'er all."

You arch your back in protest, but all that does is bring you closer to the lieutenant. He misinterprets that entirely, of course, and a small smile breaks his face like you've agreed to his terms. A heavy palm pats your ass.

"S'jus' so you don't forget who you belong to." He chuckles. "An' if your friends like the idea, then I have a few friends for them."

You make it one block before hightailing back home.

Nothing in you wanted to give that bastard the satisfaction, but he made it so that whatever you chose to do – stay home or leave wearing a symbol of his ownership – he'd end up triumphant. Naturally, then, you opted for the lesser of two evils: to leave his vicinity immediately. Besides, you'd promised your girls you'd see them after going AWOL the past fortnight, and you knew you'd get an earful if you decided to reschedule at the last moment.

You thought you would convince them it was a bet. That the collar is just some silly joke you have to bear for the day after a football match didn't go in your favour.

But you make it one block before a tradie on his lunch break catcalls you (you about that freaky ting, beautiful?) and decide to change course completely.

You arrive back at your flat without further incident. Ego stung from the various odd looks you received on your way, but nothing as egregious as being singled out as a freak in the midst of a crowd occurs again.

Still, your hands shake as you push your key into its slot.

Which progress to full body tremors as you turn it in place.

Thankfully, Simon isn't waiting on you on the other side of the door. He sits, manspreading on the couch instead, focus zeroed in on the telly that broadcasts Fulham v Man City. When he doesn't look away, you allow yourself to hope he hadn't heard you come in. But it's a naive pool to place your faith in. Nothing escapes the man, and soon enough, his tone of humoured indifference shatters the silence you've been precariously trying to keep.

"Miss me 'lready?"

A wretched sulk, pit of anger hollowing out anew. You swiftly snatch your laptop from the breakfast bar before storming to your room, making sure to lock the door firmly behind you.

The website is bookmarked. Taunting. Sublet your home as a safehouse for our armed forces. Serve your country and help soldiers find refuge. You would laugh if you weren't so single-minded, typing in your email and password upon being prompted to. You don't have to deal with this shit any longer, nor do you intend to. If you remember correctly, there had been a way to report any problems you face. If you phrase yours right, you might just get Simon pulled from your services.

Good dick be damned.

But when you hit enter to sign in, an error message blinks in red.

Account does not exist.

Which is fine. Shit like this happens all the time. There's no reason to work yourself into a panic, you probably just used the wrong email.

So you try your alternate. Account does not exist.

It feels unlikely, but maybe you'd created it under your school email to give yourself credibility. Only–

Account does not exist.

Your blood pressure is no doubt sky high by now. Other symptoms of stress already start to wrack through you – blurry vision, chest aches, difficulty breathing. Your hands sweat excessively as you dig for the customer care number you're sure exists somewhere, efforts impaired by the ever-present weight of the collar around your neck. You wonder if Simon can smell your anxiety like a predator does its prey. If he's in the other room, salivating, waiting for you to wobble out of your room to go for the kill. Some part of you – a needlessly paranoid part – rests on the conclusion that this is somehow his fault too.

Your phone already rings in an outgoing call once you blink back to the present. While you've been functioning on autopilot, you must have found a number to call that related close enough to your issue.

And your suspicion is confirmed when an automated voice picks up. You are currently... second... in line.

It takes five minutes. When a placating woman speaks up amidst the nauseating music they have queued, you can hardly contain yourself from word-vomiting onto her. Safehouse signup. Lost account. Need to report an issue. Please. It's urgent.

"Okay ma'am. If you could give me your name, I'll be happy to find the source of your problem today." You can't spell it out any faster. "Alright. One moment, please."

"O-okay." You sniffle miserably.

"I see. I'm sorry to be the one to tell you this, but it seems that you've been pulled from the program after a complaint was lodged against you. Unfortunately I can't provide more detail than that, but if you need anything else, I would be happy to assi–"

You hang up. The poor thing doesn't need to hear the incensed scream that tears from the deepest parts of you, or the following crack as you chuck your cell at the wall. She'd done what she could. It isn't her fault. It was that self-serving bastard that had you blacklisted from the only thing keeping you financially afloat. It is that that self-serving bastard that continues to occupy space inside your home, despite having no real right to it now.

The tantrum isn't near cathartic enough to unfetter you from your prison of aggravation, and you continue to take it out on everything in your near radius. Your duvet and pillows. The lotion you keep by your beside table. Your own skin, nails piercing into the soft flesh of your palms.

And especially the collar constricting your throat, like vines that tighten at the first sign of struggle.

You have to get this collar off. Even if you fail at everything else, you have to get this collar off.

Scrambling off your bed, you turn your room upside down looking for a bobby pin or a knife. One is unquestionably the safer bet, but you know you'll sit for hours trying to pick the lock that keeps you shackled – so when you find the boxcutter sitting at the bottom of your junk drawer, you immediately take it to your neck.

Just as Simon barges into your room.

You're so far gone, you don't even question how this must look to him. In fact, it doesn't occur to you that you locked your door, and that the only way he could've gotten in is by having a replica of your key. No. You merely twist away from the all-encompassing hold he wraps around your arms, determined to keep the boxcutter away from his confiscation until you can slice through the leather.

But you're crying. Visibly, alarmingly unstable. And Simon's breaths are a little faster than normal, faltering in a way they only do when he's close to climax. He must be worried, which is a funny thought, seeing as he's the reason you're in this mess.

"Alright thas– that's enough of that." He grunts after managing to pry the blade from your hand. You hardly mourn the loss, rather crumbling in on yourself as your sobbing escalates. No longer frustrated, nor determined. Just primed into a suffocating panic attack.

Somewhere in your auditory periphery, you hear the clinking of glass. It doesn't register until he holds a vial of lavender extract you keep under your nose, forcing you to inhale the medicinal aroma. Soon enough, your mouth opens to swallow gulps of unscented air alongside it, and the imposed breathing exercise calms you to a point of blubbering calm.

(For someone so apathetic, you admit he handled that expertly.)

That isn't the end of it, though. Moments later, you're lifted off your feet. He cradles you in both arms as he makes his way to your bed, sitting up against the headboard and placing you on his lap. Safe. Undisturbed.

You say nothing, pressing your wet face into his shirt. For comfort, first and foremost, but the makeup that'll undoubtedly stain the white fabric is an added bonus.

"Know this is hard for y'to understand, pup." Simon begins. "Hard for you ta wrap your head around ownership after bein' alone for s'long. I won't punish you for tha'."

"Y-You don't own me." You accuse.

He shakes his head in response, like your mind is truly as little as he claims. Like you're a dog, complete with two ears and a tail, and he plucked you off the street on the condition that you heel.

If anything, he's the stray.

"Oh, but I do." A large hand rubs circles on your back. Never have you been so conflicted, so torn between leaning in and biting back. "Just don't see it yet, pet. Bu' you will, in time. And in the meanwhile, we'll establish some ground rules to help you adjust."

#do not be a cute girl around this man he will ruin your life #unedited #sorry this took me ages to pump out #tumblr deleted the first draft (?) so i had to rewrite #hate this dumb site #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ‘ghost’ riley x reader #simon 'ghost' riley #ghost #simon riley #x reader #x female reader #call of duty #fanfic #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader

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machveil · 1 month ago

Note

i’ve been thinking about this can you write reader giving simon riley a hand job and over stimulating him and continuing after he cums?

yes, anon, yes I can🤍✨ a treat for this Friday afternoon, remember to have some water and enjoy going into the weekend

Sweet Man

between deployments, training, and trying to have a normal life, Simon Riley forgets that he deserves to relax - he deserves to feel good CW: handjob (male receiving), overstimulation, praise, general sweetness aimed at Simon - this is fluff hidden behind a nsfw label

Ghost is a busy man, a Lieutenant with Task Force 141. he’s been through hell - nightmare deployments, close calls, surviving gunfire. he can be called away for weeks to months, barely any communication. keeping in contact with him is near impossible when he’s off waging war with enemy soldiers

Ghost isn’t any better on base, combat training and hitting the gym leaving him sore and achy. but, only flesh and blood, Ghost doesn’t quit - he’d be a dead man if he didn’t train. a well oiled machine, a means to an end, Ghost is a fighter and his body reflects that. marred skin, scattered with scars and old wounds

Simon Riley is just a man. off duty, a normal civilian - as normal as he can try to be. Simon tries to leave Ghost behind at base, unnecessary for his home life - dredging through his job is hard enough, he tries leaving that behind for his Manchester apartment. but sometimes it gnaws at his heart, the urge to do something. it’s hard for him to relax, something always keeping on the edge of working. changing a lightbulb, fixing an appliance, going out for groceries, as much as Simon tries to wind down there’s always something to do

enter you, his darling partner. it tugs at your heartstrings to see Simon so wound up - his body doesn’t know rest. he’s been serving since sixteen, and now as an adult he’s always wandering around fixing one thing or another. sure, he can sit down for a game, crack open a beer during a poker night, but letting his guard down? it’s rare

so you do the only thing you can do when he’s wound up and restless - lure him to the bedroom with soft smiles and sweet words. as terrifying and fearsome as Ghost is, Simon Riley all but melts for you. he’d follow you to the ends of the earth if you asked him to

it always takes him a moment to accept that, yeah, he doesn’t have to be on edge. soft pecks to his cheeks, hands smoothing down his arms, a quick hug and a charming smile. that’s really all it takes for him to settle into bed with you, presumably for a cuddle session or to watch that series you like

he’s not complaining when you paw at his hips though, shoulders slumping when you softly ask if you can touch him - that always tugs at his heartstrings, simple as it is. who’s he to say no to you when all you want to do is help him? he’d begrudgingly admit that, to himself, and only himself, he’s tired. carrying weight on his shoulders from his job, staying alive, keeping his loved ones alive

he lets you pull his belt off, undo his pants, lifts his hips slightly so you can tug them and his underwear down. pillows against his lower back, leaning in your direction, he’s asking you for a kiss. as much as he’s at your beck and call, following your whims, you’re just as smitten with him as he is with you - and who are you to deny your Simon a kiss? lips gently pressing to his, a little chapped and rough, but a sweet kiss nonetheless

his hand cupping your cheek, the other resting on the sheets - gripping them a little when your hand falls to his erection. all he can manage is a deep, low groan, muffled against you as you simply hold him for the moment, thumb brushing against a vein. slow, compared to his fast paced, kill-or-be-killed world, he appreciates the slow, steady affection. he appreciates when you lean into his touch, pull away from his lips to press a kiss to his palm. he appreciates it when you gently squeeze him, soft hand against him as you drag your palm up

he’d be satisfied like this, happy to settle for your hand against his cock - eyes fluttering shut when you press another kiss to his lips. a barely audible sigh leaving him as his thighs relax, his shoulders slope. “Being so good for me, Simon.”, your murmured words, sweet voice reaching him

and, oh, your Simon, he’s vocal when he’s soft like this, just for you. the whine you pull from him when you speak is gold, “Such a good man, Si.”. a good man, he used to scoff when you told him that. now? it draws needy breathes from him as he bucks up against your palm, seeking friction against you, “Jus’ f’you, lovie”

slow, the way he wraps his arm around your waist, bringing you closer for another kiss - groaning when you run your thumb over his tip. he can’t help but hold you close, pulling back and pressing his forehead to yours. those brown, nearly black eyes of his half lidded as he stares at you. a delicious, deep rumble in his chest when you pump him

he’d do anything for you - so when you pull your hand off him, a whine resonating in his throat, he listens to you. he finds comfort in you giving him an order to follow, familiar, but softer compared to his job. when you bring your hand up, palm open, and tell him to lick? he turns his brain off and he listens

he does more than you ask of him, he always will, his hand leaving your cheek to cup your hand. he kisses your finger tips, lips parted as his tongue darts out a little - his eyes finally closing as he opens his mouth. soft moans pulled from him as he sucks two of your fingers, your index and middle resting on his tongue as he hums around them softly. he’s nearly drooling when you press down a little, the gentle pressure making him throb

he pulls off of them, a thin strand of drool connecting his lips to your fingers before he kisses your palm. slow, sloppy open mouth kisses before his tongue is dragging down your palm. he’s already out of it, mind hazy when you pull your hand away - his head dipping down, forehead to the crook of your neck

sinful - the only word you could use to describe the breathy moan that leaves him, your hand wrapped around him again. your other hand gently carding through his hair has Simon feeling bliss. he’s big, a looming figure that terrifies soldiers and civilians alike, but in the comfort of his bed? he’s nothing more than your whiny, putty Simon. brain turned off, mouth nipping and sucking at your neck as he dumbly ruts against your hand

he’s returning the favor from earlier, pawing at your hips, kneading them with his rough, calloused hands. when you flick your wrist, slow, controlled, Simon’s dumbly babbling against your throat. “S’good— you feel so good, love.”, gravely voice cracking when you shush him, gently scratching his scalp as you coo, “Relax for me, being such a good boy, Simon.”

whiny, he’d scoff at someone for calling him that, a grown man like him doesn’t whine. but, behind closed doors when he’s holding you for dear life? pleas to come undone spill from his lips, rough voice contrasting the needy sounds he’s making, “Need you— please, lovie—“. hands groping the meat of your thighs as he bucks against you

you’ve stilled your hand at this point, he’s doing all the work. frantic, short thrusts against your hand. his legs kick out as he presses himself against you, nearly cuddling you if it wasn’t for his twitchy movements. your slick hand - now wet from his own spit and pre - has him shaking, feet planted against the sheets as he bends his knees

it’s all he can do, poor thing, frantically fucking up into your grasp - gasping as he shudders. so close, and when you finally move your hand in time with him, meeting his thrusts, he goes slack jawed. tip leaky as it grazes your thumb pad, his leg jerks involuntarily. letting out a deep, guttural moan, he’s fucking himself stupid with just your hand. eyebrows knit as he wraps his arms around your waist, a death grip as he speeds up

still. heavy, panting breathes as he coats your hand and his stomach - mouth latched on to your neck, dumbly sucking as he steadies his breath. jerking. he’s still coming down from his high when you start pumping him again, his hips bucking away. “Too much—“, voice strained as he gasps, eyes rolling back when you spit into your palm, “Please—“

he’s too stupid to know what he’s begging for - a break? your touch? faster. he doesn’t even know he’s said that, garbled noises leaving his throat before he’s biting the base of your neck. half hard, completely yours to play with as he goes boneless. glossy eyes look up at yours, moaning when you softly smile at him, closing when you speak

“Relax, Simon. I’ll make you feel good, baby, just relax.”. Simon, always ready for a fight, loses when you pick up the pace - brain leaking out his ears as you peck his lips

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princessbrunette · 1 year ago

Text

kinktober : oct 24th

leon kennedy x consensual somnophilia

it was never something leon would have ever considered.

sex was always something leon would do with you, not to you — and he wanted it that way. he loved making you beg for it, loved watching your reactions, loved watching you start off shy and end up a mouthy mess, barely making any sense. it was part of the fun.

he’d been coming home late as of recently, either called out onto some kind of ridiculous mission, or stacked high with paperwork that kept him back after hours working overtime. he was making great money, you couldn’t complain — leon using his overtime earnings to spoil you like you deserved, but it was stealing the most valuable thing of all from you, and that was him.

you were needy, needed his physical affection, his cock bruising your insides and strong arms wrapped around you grounding you — reminding you that he was here, and yours, and safe. it just wasn’t possible lately, only seeing him in the mornings before he’d leave. you tried really hard to stay awake when he’d get home, yawning and rubbing your eyes as you’d text him and tell him— but you’d usually get hit with the ‘You need your rest, baby. Go to sleep.’ text response and who are you to argue? you couldn’t if you tried, often falling asleep with the lamp on, sprawled atop the sheets. his tired frame would find you like that when he returns home, shaking his head with a tired chuckle and tucking you in. leon looks after you like that.

you’d awoken with a plan, waking up earlier than leon’s alarm and padding into the kitchen to make him breakfast before he leaves— making his morning easier by laying out his clothes, his badge, his wallet — really playing at housewife, which you both enjoyed.

he was smiling sleepily when he found you in the kitchen, serving up his food to go so that he wasn’t late.

“whats all this, hm?” he smirks as he approaches you, pulling you toward him by the hips and pressing a grateful kiss to the centre of your forehead.

“just wanna treat you right, i know you’re working hard and you’re tired… i miss you though.” you exhale slowly, still sleepy yourself as you burrow your cheek to his chest. his heart pangs a little at your sad tone, stroking down the back of your dishevelled head.

“i know, sweetheart. i’m sorry i’ve been so busy, works been hectic lately but things should be clearing up soon. then i can take some time off, spend time with my number one.” his sympathetic tone fades to a grin, running a thumb over your cheek when you smile with him.

“‘kay.” you seem satisfied, walking him to the door, watching him pull his fur lined jacket on to protect him from the chilly winter weather outside. the jacket makes him seem even bigger than he is, which makes you bite back a needy giggle as you hand him his brown paper bag with his breakfast inside.

“alright, baby. thanks for the food. i’ll be back later.” he pinches your chin affectionately. “wheres my kiss?” he tilts his head a little with a playful smirk, and you don’t wait another second before standing on your tiptoes and planting a kiss to his lips, savouring the feeling knowing you’ll miss him all day. it was then time to propose your plan.

you pull back, and he goes to step away but you speak, as casually as possible.

“oh, and leon. if you come home and you need me, you can use me whilst i sleep if you’d like. i don’t wear panties to bed.” you smile innocently, before pulling back fully. “see you later!” you usher him out as he stares back in shock, not giving him time to respond. you all but kick him out as you giggle, going about your day.

he’d thought about it a lot that day.

he couldn’t do that to you, right? use you whilst you slept. it was… degrading. inherently wrong. his sweet girl, unaware of his touch. and yet, you were so willing, the look in your eyes when you’d permit him access to you whilst you slept haunted him all day. you’d tried to play it cool, but leon knew you too well — knew that needy, neglected look in your eyes. you were practically begging to be touched. had it really been that long?

he’d arrived home late as usual, and by the time he did, with all the work that had been lumped onto him he’d pretty much forgotten momentarily about that morning, that was until he entered the bedroom.

it’s like you’d set the scene perfectly for him.

he puffs out his cheeks a little as he exhales, running hands over his cheeks like he was trying to wipe off water. you were there, fast asleep on the bed wearing just his t-shirt. the blankets had been kicked down to just cover one foot, bunching up on your other side — and your leg was cocked up as you lay on your stomach. he creeps further into the room, sighing at how beautiful you looked illuminated only by the bright moonlight. his tshirt had ridden up, revealing your plump ass and glistening wet cunt in the low light. poor thing, he thinks — you’d gone to bed all needy.

he’s surprised the sound of his belt clinking as he undoes it doesn’t wake you, usually having a rather pavlovian effect on you to make you salivate whenever you hear it. he still feels slightly guilty despite the clear permission you’d given ringing bright and new in his memory. there was nothing wrong with just getting comfy and laying beside his girl, right?

he wedges himself gently behind you, still wearing his clothes, and in your sleep you habitually shuffle up closer to him, pressing your bare ass against his cock. he winces, hand coming up to caress the skin there. “fuck.” he murmurs, cock hard in his jeans.

maybe he could just jerk himself off, right here beside you. that wasn’t so bad, right? he pulls his pants and boxers down to his knees and quickly gets to work, the other hand carefully pinching the material of his tshirt and lifting it slowly to reveal more skin to him. he inhales, jaw slacking a little at the sight of your curves as he touches himself— and he feels himself getting more desperate. what’s the harm in playing with you just a little?

he slows his movements on his own cock, bringing his hand slowly to your ass again, rubbing soothing circles on the skin. his hand creeps from there to between your legs, his fingers experimentally swiping through your soaked folds. you must’ve prepared yourself before you slept. a wave of heat rushed through him as he wondered if you went to bed this wet every night since he’d been working so much and not pleasing you. without thought his fingers slide up to your clit, giving it a few affectionate rubs like he usually would. you whine sleepily and he shushes you.

“it’s okay baby, it’s me.”

you don’t seem to stir, and his blood is fucking pumping. he leans over you, using his strong arm to hold himself up and swipes his tip through your folds, coating himself in your slick. “so god damn wet.” he hisses, brows knitting. he gets himself into a comfortable position before pushing himself a little just past the tip.

you cry out a little into the pillow, and he hears himself shushing you again. “i know sweet girl, just me.” he sighs, pressing his forehead against your back.

he keeps you like that for a while, arm trembling a little whilst he holds himself up. you just feel so good, swallowing half of him — and he realises just how pent up he’s been since he’d been working overtime. he slowly bottoms out, letting out the most pornographic yet quiet moan, perfectly forming an ‘ugh’ sound in the air as you squeeze around him. he starts to grind in and out of you, and only then you stir — always the heavy sleeper.

you let out a disorientated yet pleased whine, clenching down hard as your consciousness comes to the surface. leon, mounting you still, wraps one thick arm beneath your stomach, effortlessly holding you to him as if you were a pillow or a stuffed animal — the other thick forearm wedged itself beneath you to work at your clit, light but slightly frenzied circles pressed against it. you let out a sleepy sob, drool painting your chin as your noises come out muffled to the pillow.

“you’re okay, pretty girl. s’just me remember. fuck. you still sure you want me up in here?” you feel his clothed stomach against your back.

“mhm!” you rasp, barely awake just drifting in and out of what felt like a perfect wet dream.

soon you’re clenching down hard again, almost trapping his movement. he lets you hump your clit on the heel of his hand as he tried his hardest to look round at you from his position. “you wanna cum on it, baby? yeah?” he cooes, slightly whiny and high pitched signalling he wasn’t far behind you. “such a good girl giving yourself to me like this. gonna treat you all fuckin’ night, make up for lost time.” he really is whining now, the soft sounds of his pelvis clapping against your ass filling the room.

you snuggle against him as best as you can, eyes squeezing shut as you feel yourself waking up properly to a hearty orgasm on your boyfriends thick cock.

but leon wasn’t done yet. needless to say, he was tired at work the next day.

#leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy drabble #leon kennedy prompt #leon kennedy x reader #resident evil smut #leon resident evil smut #kinktober 2023

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sweetimpurity · 5 months ago

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c.w.: very smutty, ice cream and sex

The hot sun beats down on your hometown. It’s finally summer and you’re ready for the beach, freedom and romance. You and Miguel have been together since you were both 15. Growing up together, going to school, falling in love and staying in it until now. 18 years old, the two of you. You can’t wait to spend every day with him this summer, and you really can’t wait for those hot summer nights.

The only thing that gets in the way is summer jobs. If only you two were 10 again and you could spend every minute wasting the day away in the kiddie pool. But now at 18, there are other, better things you two can get up to.

This summer you’re working at your Dad’s store in town and Miguel is logging in his 3rd consecutive year at Sunny Scoops ice cream. A cute little place by the boardwalk with really good waffle cones and the cutest boy in town behind the register!

There, Miguel works all day, sweating and smiling, handing out ice cream to little kids, the elderly, families, anyone who’s having a beach day. And any girls who ask for his number, he just tells them to text you and ask for it. That usually prevents them from ever asking again.

He’s grown muscle over the past three years and ultimately you just had to help him cut the sleeves off his work t-shirt. Complaining about the ‘fit not being right’ on the bigger sizes.

The uniform he used to wear when he was 15 was pretty horrendous. Pink and blue striped and that goofy ice cream cone hat. Then he turned 16… 17… now 18 and wowza. You’ve watched him grow into a man. Now his arms are showing, his muscles from scooping rock solid ice cream all day long. Toned and extra tan from the summer sun. A bandana wrapped messily in his dark curls to keep the sweat off his forehead. Sometimes you’ll sit there with ice cream melting down your hand and between your fingers because you’re just staring at him moving around behind the little counter and through the little shop. Smiling handsomely to customers, his muscles flexing when he’s scooping the frozen treat, catching his eye and his smile when he sees you watching him. Flustered and flushed pink when he comes back over to talk to you, licking the drips off your knuckles.

“Your ice cream is melting, baby…” He would coo. Licking his lips of the sweet chocolate melt. “You’re really hot.” You’d sigh, completely in a daze.

You’re finally done with work now, letting your Dad know you’re leaving for the night. A plan in mind. A need for something sweet. Not just ice cream tonight. Leaving your Dad’s store at 9:30pm and Sunny Scoops closes at 10. You get in your car, letting the summer night breeze blow in through the windows. The cool down finally here as the sun is set. The night is still warm and sticky but not as blazingly hot as before.

…

“Here you go… have a good night.” You hear his voice as you’re walking up to the window. Watching a little boy and his mother walking away happily with huge ice cream cones in hand. And would you look at that… you’re next in line.

“Hey, gorgeous…” He smiles seeing you, leaning his elbows on the counter and watching you approach the window. “Hey!” You chirp, smiling up at him. “Busy day?” You ask, admiring his tip jar full to the brim. “Yeah, busy but good.” He nods, grabbing a waffle cone and moving around behind the counter. You peer over the edge to look inside. Watching him at the soft serve machine. He knows you so well of course. “Chocolate vanilla twist for the pretty lady…” He announces and hands you a tall swirl of ice cream.

“Come around back, I’m just closing up.” He nods and you take your ice cream, moving to the back of the teeny building to the back door. Walking inside. Like you do most days you come to see him. Miguel slides the window closed, locking it and pulling the wooden panel over to block the window. Locking the place up.

You hop up to sit on top of the big box freezer, licking the swirl of ice cream in your hand and watching him move some stuff around and close up.

“You wanna go to the beach tomorrow?” You ask, looking over at him with those eyes that make him weak. His eyes watching your pink tongue lick up your ice cream. “Sure.” He answers just softly. Focusing on doing his job before he loses all control. Not just yet. You smile and kick your legs softly. He walks past with a box, grabbing your ankle as you kick your foot up, giving you a look and letting his fingers run up your calf, bringing a smile to your lips, walking away as he finishes clearing the place up, taking the box to the shelves in the back. Coming back after a minute or two.

“Hey.” He hums, stopping in front of you, a sly sort of smirk on his face. “Hey.” You respond, just as softly, your ice cream only beginning to melt. “You’re so pretty…” He hums as if he hasn’t told you a million times before, making you smile and he steps closer, between your knees. His fingers teasing the sides of your thighs. “Preciosa chica…” He whispers, looking in your eyes and licking the drips off the back of your ice cream cone. Like he always does. Licking all the way to the top of the swirl and then his lips are on yours. His lips moving against yours, his tongue parting your lips. His tongue tasting of chocolate swirl and his lips sugary slippery sweet. His tongue delves into your mouth, his hand going to cup the back of your head, ice cream smashed and mixed between your two tongues. So sweet. Until he’s pulling back, both of you with a slurp.

You giggle softly, feeling sticky sugar all over your lips. “You want more?” You laugh, raising a brow at him and he grins. You tilt the cone towards his lips. “It’s yours, baby… I wanna see you eat it.” He replies.

His hands move up under your shirt, tickling your sides as he pulls you closer, sliding you across the freezer top. You smile, bringing the swirl to your lips and licking the melting ice cream, sucking gently and enjoying it, all while staring in his eyes. His hands move under the fabric, fingers moving up your ribcage, your diaphragm, to your breasts.

“No bra, mami?” He laughs, fingers exploring and kneading the plush of your tits. Staring in your eyes as he does it. “Took it off in the car…” You smile so innocently. He grows harder at the thought. That you took off your bra on the way over here. Like you wanted this to happen, you wanted him. Watching you gasp among the ice cream in your mouth, his thumbs rubbing over your nipples, rolling them gently between his thumb and index fingers. Massaging gently under your shirt. He leans forward, placing three deep kisses to your throat before pulling back again, his fingers grasping the hem of your t-shirt.

“Can I take this off?” He asks and you nod, mouth full of ice cream. He pushes your shirt up and off, the neon lights of the shop reflecting off your skin, off your breasts, making his mouth water. His arm anchors around your lower back, lips latching onto your breast, licking and sucking and squeezing the other in his hand. “Mmm- miguel…” You sigh, sensitized from his caress. He slurps and smooches your soft skin, the naughty noises filling the small space. The hum of the many fridges and freezers a soothing harmony with your soft moans and the sticky sucking of his lips.

He pulls back, kissing you a few times, tasting that sweetness on your lips. Keeping one arm around your back and your eyes widened in surprise watching him dip his fingers into the mountain of ice cream in your hand. Picking up dollaps of cold chocolate swirl on his fingers and smearing it over your nipples. Eliciting a sharp gasp from your throat as he does it. Looking down at your chest. He does the same with both sides. “You like that?” Grinning the whole time, holding you tight as you squirm. Freezing coldness hardening the buds until his warm lips come back down to suck the ice cream off. A shuddering and trembling moan leaving you at the feeling. Your free hand going to his hair, tangling in the dark curls. Pulling the bandana off of his head and watching his summer curls bounce free. “Ohhh- Miguel- '' You moan sweetly and he groans against your chest, your sticky sugary nipples sucked and kissed over and over until it's all gone.

“So sweet baby…” He pants, pulling his shirt off, coming back up to kiss your lips and holding your flushed cheeks in his hands. “Mmm..” You whine, kissing him back hungrily, deeper, your free hand running up his toned abdomen to his chest, a map of his body already ingrained in your brain after all these years, then wrapping your arms around the back of his neck, the ice cream dripping down your knuckles and onto his bare back, making goosebumps on his skin, his big hands running down your back and to your waist. “I don’t have a condom, baby…” He pants against your lips, his fingers in your hair; the words making your tummy flip in butterflies, knowing he wants you; he’s going to be inside. He pulls back for air, desperate to have you as he’s had you many times before.

“I do.” You pant for air, reaching blindly in your back pocket for the one condom you brought. “You really came here just to get fucked, didn’t you?” He laughs and smiles, taking the small foil packet into his sticky fingers. “I came here to see my love…” You hum, tilting your head at him. Not very convincing. His brow cocks in suspicion. “Fine. I came here to get fucked by my love.” You finally admit and the two of you can’t help the giggles.

Outside the small ice cream shop, cars drive by, peepers peep and crickets chirp. The temperatures go down as the night goes on, but inside the little parlor, things are heating up.

“Tell me where baby… tell me…” He whispers in your ear, knuckles deep in your heat and you’re barely able to hang onto him. One hand still occupied by the dripping melting ice cream cone. “Right there! Oh right th-there!” You squeal, his thumb moving expertly on your clit and his fingers flicking and curling deep inside. “Oh my god…” You whine, back arching and leaning back so far you almost fall back off the freezer. “Hey… hey… there you go…” He coos, holding you and helping you lay on your back. Limited on space but you make do. His fingers pumping generously into your needy pussy.

His bottoms are long gone but he takes the condom foil between his teeth, ripping it open carefully. “C’mon baby…” He pants. Taking your free hand and pulling it down to his dick. Guiding you to roll the condom onto his length. Shuddering and groaning feeling the lubed rubber and your soft warm hand pushing it down on him. All while his fingers still curl up against your g spot and you’re on the cusp of coming already. For a few moments, he thrusts into your hand around him. Relishing that pleasure until it’s not enough.

“Ready, sweet girl?” He steps forward, pulling your hips down to meet him at the edge of the freezer. “Mi corazón…” He whispers, a hand running flat over your tummy. “Mmm… yes please…” You whisper. And when he gets that confirmation, there’s no stopping his gummy tip from kissing your clit, pushing through your slick before slipping down and inside. Like the two of you were made for this. He was made to be with you in this way. You were created to be in love.

“Haahh…. Baby…” He sighs and shudders, easing himself in with small pulsing thrusts to stretch you out nicely for him. He doesn’t want to hurt his precious girl. Soon he’s pressed to the hilt and your back is arching from that alone. Your trembling legs latching around his waist as he starts his rhythm. Skin slapping skin in the sickly slip of sticky slick.

Moaning loud and free, the both of you, at the feeling. The feeling of being so full, so filled to the brim. Of love. Of him. The ice cream cone nearly falls out of your hand, your brain unable to think of anything but the pleasure between your legs. One leg wrapped around his hip and the other held in his arm, your knee draped over and his big hand wrapped around your thigh. Keeping you open for him; spread. Pumping into you steady and deep. His heavy eyes watching your face to see how much you love it. His hand on your thigh finds your free hand, lacing his fingers with yours. Panting and focusing. On getting you there. On making you feel the best he possibly can.

You’re delirious, hazy, a mess of moans and a buzzing burning ache for him.

“Baby baby-” He grabs your wrist when the ice cream almost slips entirely, holding your wrist and making it stay upright so he doesn’t have to mop the floors. Smiling when he sees your fucked out face. Easing the cone out of your hand so he can hold it. So that it doesn’t splatter on the floor. Letting your hand fall, fingers gripping and clenching around nothing. His thrusts are so deep, so giving, and he’s hitting every little spot that has you melting.

“That’s it, baby…” He encourages you, trying to bring you that sweet release. “So good Mig…so so sooo…” You whine, on the very edge of bliss. Miguel watches, breathing so fast and heavy. His eyes trail down your face to your soft, marked neck, to your shoulders, your tits, sternum, stomach. Until it’s almost involuntary, he dumps the cold, melting, dripping ice cream cone on your soft tummy. Pulling a high pitched squeal and gasp from your lips, the cold like the spark in a chain reaction, back arching as he drags the freezing smushed chocolate swirl up to your sternum. Your orgasm hits you before another second can think to pass. Your skin shining in melty vanilla and chocolate swirl. The cold making you clench around him.

Screaming in ecstasy and squeezing him so tight he's doubling over and groaning at the pressure. Thrusts become impossible and all he can do is spurt deep and hot. Filling the condom with a groan and feeling you fluttering around him. He licks a stripe up your sternum, slurping ice cream from your skin. Pressing messy kisses to your chest and his face just drips with the melted sugary substance. Drops and dribbles rolling down your sides as you gush on his dick. Trembling, shaking, coming down from what might be the strongest climax you’ve ever experienced.

“Oh baby… hah… that was amazing…” He pants, his voice wavering, leaning over you, kissing your cheeks, your neck, your lips. “I love, love you… hah…” He huffs, looking over your face to make sure you’re okay. “Mmm… I love you” You sigh, a blissed out smile on your face. He smiles seeing you’re happy and you’re feeling good; because that’s all he’s ever wanted. And all he’ll ever want.

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grandline-fics · 11 months ago

Note

Hii, can I have a scenario with Law please !! I'd like something where reader is jealous.

Law and reader aren't together like they both have feelings but are completely oblivious. They're in a bar with the crew and everything, and reader and Law are talking, a woman starts flirting with him and reader (a bit drunk) gets a bit possessive

DESCRIPTION: You both have feelings for each other but you need jealousy and liquid courage to finally let it show

WARNINGS: depictions of alcohol use

CHARACTERS: Law

WORDS: 1,386

A/N: Thank you for the request! Hope you like what I came up with for this one

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

MASTERLIST

———————

It wasn’t often the entire crew of the Polar Tang got the chance to enjoy some proper down time and unwind in a bar. You relished these moments, when there was no fights or pressing matters to deal with and you could all just enjoy the adventure you were all on. You basked in the laughter and conversation with your crew as you all sat at table as the drinks flowed as easily. Eventually most of the crew began to scatter. Whether it was breaking into their own little clusters of conversation, finding the dance floor to enjoy, potential love-interests for the night to pursue, and alcohol infused antics to take part in. Which just left you and Law sitting at the original table in deep conversation and neither of you were complaining on that part.

Both of you had feelings for the other but had yet to act on any impulses and any moment that could have potentially led to more. For you both, neither of you wanted to risk the rejection in case you were reading the situation wrong, and as a result ruin what you both already had. So you both lived in blissful delusion that everything was fine and that nothing would progress between you beyond the close friendship you could both enjoy. After finishing your drink you got up, offering to get another for your Captain too. You stood by the bar and waited to be served, content to wait your turn in the busy building.

“Soooo, will tonight be the night you finally confess to our Captain?” You rolled your eyes at Sachi’s playful tone coming from your side. You didn’t even humour your crewmember by giving a verbal response and instead continued to stare ahead while waiting for one of the bartenders to make their way towards you. Your lack of an answer only spurred Sachi on and he grinned while lightly poking your arm. “Oh c’mon you know it’s eating you up. I mean it’s not like he’d reject you. He’s not that stupid.” Heavily you sighed, it wasn’t Law’s intelligence that was the issue here. You had your reasons for not making a move or even entertaining the thought of telling Law. Firmly you kept your mouth shut. “You know if you don’t let him know he’ll end up getting with someone else.”

“Sachi, the Captain and I aren’t an item. I don’t own him and he’s never made a move either. He can ‘get with’ anyone he wants.” You finally spoke, turning to lean against the bar and look at Sachi with a frown. You really didn’t get why he was being so pushy about the subject but after seeing the flush against his cheeks and large drink in his hand you decided to put it down to the alcohol in his system making him like this. You cast a glance around the bar to see the rest of your crew were letting themselves truly enjoy the evening and let the drink make them more relaxed and at ease. A night without having to constantly worry about the readings of the sub and having to do set rotations and watches was a godsend and one that everyone knew to make the most of.

Finally you let your sight fall back to the table you and Law had been sitting at and your whole body tensed to see your seat was now filled by a woman who had her sights firmly set on your Captain. Worse still it seemed he was enjoying her presence, the fact that he hadn’t told her to get lost and instead seemed to be answering whatever she was saying was proof of that. You tried to bite back the bitter taste climbing your throat and forced your expression to remain as calm as it could even though you wanted nothing more than to glare at the scene. Like you’d said to Sachi, Law could have whoever he wanted. You didn’t own him. And yet your fingers flexed and tightly fisted against the edge of the bar’s countertop. “Hmmm she’s cute. If you want to give the Captain some privacy you can join us?”

Law didn’t know what he could say to this woman to give her the hint that he wasn’t interested. He couldn’t outright say what he wanted to to this girl, with everyone enjoying their night of freedom the last thing he wanted was to bring trouble to their door. So he just had to give short, basic answers to his unwanted acquaintance while he waited for you. You were the only person Law wanted to spend time with, no one else made him feel the way he did. Thankfully he felt your familiar presence approach behind him and his hand instinctively lifted to take the beer you reached out to him without needing to turn and look. “Thanks, I’ll get the next round.” He told you and then blinked in confusion when you remained standing behind him.

“Don’t worry about it.” You said, taking a slow sip of your drink and maintaining eye-contact with the woman still in your seat. It brought you swift satisfaction to see the nervousness in her eyes and watch her adjust her position. “Who’s your friend?” You asked while letting your free arm drape over your Captain’s shoulder, your fingers almost grazing against his bicep. Law’s eyes flickered down to your hand and said nothing. You were probably only doing it because of the fact you were still standing and your balance would be slightly skewed from your alcohol intake. The woman opposite you both tried to introduce herself to you but quickly forgot her name as soon as it was out of her mouth.

“Are you just going to keep standing there?” She snapped, suddenly becoming defensive to your presence that she clearly didn’t want interfering with her hopes at getting to know Law better and you smirked at her. “You’re in my seat.” You answered simply with a smile, shifting your feet and making it so your chest was pressing a little closer against Law’s back.

Law watched the woman splutter and look around the empty seats around them. “Well sit somewhere else!” She protested in annoyance, unable to really cause a fuss because you weren’t actually doing anything to intimidate or threaten her. Last time you’d checked standing wasn’t a crime and she knew that. At her suggestion you pouted, pretending to think about sitting somewhere else. Truth be told you had a moment of going to a different table when you’d first caught sight of her with Law but your jealousy and sudden spark of possessiveness only got worse and her whining only provoked you even more. “There’s tons of places for you to sit, just pick somewhere else. It’s really off-putting if you keep standing there.”

“Oh I’m so sorry! The last thing I want is to be off-putting!” You gasped in false concern before smirking as you stepped around Law and perched yourself with ease on his lap. “There we go, how’s that?” You asked sweetly while trying to ignore how rapidly your heart was beating. You’d been so focused on getting under this woman’s skin to get her to leave that you didn’t stop to think about what you were doing but it was far too late to go back. That was proven even more when Law’s arm secured it around your waist, effectively keeping you seated and his chest firmly against your back. “So, are you finally going to leave us alone now?” Law asked frowning at the woman who floundered and finally got to her feet storming off to find someone else to annoy.

You waited a moment to be sure she’d left and prepared to stand only to freeze when Law’s fingers flexed against you in a silent sign for you to stay. Clearing your throat you looked up at him, questioning him and afraid to even speak. Law smirked down at you, deciding that maybe acting on impulse and having liquid courage wouldn’t be such a bad thing especially if it led to more of these kinds of moments with you. “You can’t get up now, I wouldn’t want to risk someone else coming by and taking your seat.”

#one piece #one piece fic #one piece imagines #one piece x you #one piece x reader #law x reader #law x you #trafalgar d law x reader #trafalgar law #trafalgar law x reader #one piece law #trafalgardwaterlaw #trafalgar one piece

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luxaofhesperides · 10 months ago

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“You know, I never realized how true the ‘eyes are the windows to your soul’ thing was until I saw yours.” + fluff + cafe AU ; requested by @kiv1!

He’s sure Danny didn’t expect to see him every other day after he casually mentioned that he had gotten a part time job at a local cafe. However, as his friend, it is Duke’s moral duty to only get coffee from that shop while Danny is on shift, specifically to annoy him.

Also, so he can support his friend, but being annoying takes priority.

It’s a routine now, for both of them. Danny clocks in for his shift and an hour later Duke is strolling into the cafe with his eyes locked on Danny’s. The rest of the baristas always shove Danny up to the register when they see Duke, taking over whatever order he was making. Even some of the other regulars turn their attention up to the counter, hoping for another few minutes of entertainment.

Danny sighs as he gets ready to input Duke’s order. It’s never the same one, because Duke would hate to be predictable and make things easier for Danny, but it has the side effect of making him realize that some of the expensive, seasonal drinks are really good.

It’s a bit hard on his wallet, but it’s a price he’s willing to pay for teasing Danny.

“Hey,” he greets cheerfully as he leans against the counter, grinning at Danny.

Danny sighs again. “What can I get you today, random customer that keeps bothering me.”

“A latte, but make it sweet somehow. And iced.”

“What size would you like?”

“Let’s go with medium today.”

“Anything else?”

“Yeah.” Duke leans closer to Danny, watching as he fights down a smile. “I just gotta say that you got gorgeous eyes. You know, I never realized how true the ‘eyes are the window to your soul thing’ was until I saw yours.”

Danny considers this for a moment, then shakes his head. “It kind of sounds like your trying to steal my soul through my eyes.”

“Why is that what your mind goes to?”

“Well. I watched Coraline last night.”

Duke stares at Danny, taking in the dark circles under his eyes. “...Didn’t you say that movie gave you nightmares as a kid?”

“Yeah! And it turns out, it gives me nightmares even now!”

“And ruined my pick up line,” Duke complains playfully.

“It was too cheesy anyways,” Danny replies, putting Duke’s order into the screen. It prints a moment later, no doubt with some bizarre name since Danny refuses to actually name Duke on his orders, and then recites the price.

He pays and watches as Danny slaps the order onto a medium sized up, then tosses it over to the barista making the drinks. He’s not actually sure what her name is since she refuses to wear a name tag, but she always gives him a wave and also a rating of how good his pick up lines are.

“Seven out of ten!” she calls out to him today, then gets started on making his drink.

“I don’t see why you don’t flirt with anyone else,” Danny says, “I’m pretty sure my coworkers like your pick up lines even more than they like me.”

“Why would I want to flirt with them? Danny, I’m literally only here to bother you.”

Danny rolls his eyes. “Yeah, trust me, I know. My good looks just keep pulling in business.”

He says it like a joke, but it’s true. Duke has noticed it. Danny’s coworkers have noticed it. His manager noticed it and now has him out on the floor every shift. If they can get him to work on the chalkboard sign outside, or wipe down the two tables out front, then they do it, because Danny is Midwestern to his core and it’s very charming in a place like Gotham. He smiles at people as they walk by, happily answers their questions when they ask him what the cafe serves, recommends food and drinks for them, is generally a bright and nice person to everyone who comes near the cafe.

His cute looks draw people in, then his personality makes them stay.

It’s all customer service, of course, because Duke never gets the cute, sunny Danny. He’s left with the sarcastic, rude, and funny Danny that’s been his friend since they met in junior year of high school.

“Your eyes are really pretty, though,” Duke says, “Very blue. Sometimes green. It’s no wonder people keep falling for you!”

Danny reaches across the counter to shove Duke away, but he’s blushing, so Duke is counting it as a win. “Shut up. Now you’re just lying. My eyes are never green.”

“Yes, they are. Danny, I’ve seen them multiple times. They’re green sometimes.”

“No? My eyes have literally only ever been blue. They’re the bluest blue to ever blue. They don’t just turn green.”

They squint at each other for a long moment, trying to figure out who’s wrong and in what way. Duke’s pretty sure Danny’s wrong, since he can’t exactly see his own eyes, and Duke has spent an embarrassing amount of time just admiring how nice they are in different kinds of light. But also, they are Danny’s eyes, so he should know what color they are.

Then Danny’s coworker is setting down Duke’s drink on the pick up counter, giving Danny an excuse to get back to work.

“One medium oatmeal cookie iced latte for Cornelius Aggravating Douglas.” He holds up the drink and makes very direct eye contact with Duke, holding out the drink towards him.

“Did you really have to make the initials ‘Cad’?”

“Yes.”

“Fair enough,” Duke says, making Danny crack a smile.

“Are you heading out after this?”

Duke grabs a straw and sticks it into his latte, swirling it around some. “That was the plan, yeah. Got a few library books to pick up. Why?”

“I got approval for a half shift today, so I’m off in like ten minutes, if you wanna wait for me.”

“Hell yeah, dude! I’ll wait outside so I don’t distract you with my flirtatious winks again.”

“Get out of here,” Danny laughs. Duke lifts his drink in a quick toast, then gets out of there. He takes a seat at one of the tables out front, content to just people watch as he slowly sips his latte.

It’s cloudy out, but not raining, which is always a plus. As much as he’d like to see the sun, these kinds of days aren’t so bad, either. The wind still carries a bit of a chill, but the spring is steadily warming things up. There are tons of people out, a constant rush of movement, but a few do catch sight of him, then look towards the cafe, their steps slowing down as they think. Most keep walking, but Duke does manage to get a few to go in just by taking a long sip of his latte to really enjoy it.

Really, he should be getting compensated for the work he’s doing to draw people in. Danny’s not the only one who can do it.

Bruce keeps offering him money, so he doesn’t need to get paid, but maybe he can convince the other employees to talk Danny into accepting one of his pick up lines so they can go on a date one of these days.

It’s become a bit of a joke, but the first time Duke used a cheesy pick up line on Danny, he was being absolutely serious about it. He definitely shouldn’t have used a pick up line he found from a website centered on relationship advice, but he panicked and needed some extra help.

Instead of smoothly asking Danny out on a date, Duke froze up, blurted out the pick up line, then had to laugh it off with Danny and pretend it was a joke.

He still wishes he was able to ask Danny out properly before, but he’s also glad that they got to spend more time as friends, getting to know each other. It’s easier to be with him now, no longer so tongue tied and flustered.

Duke gets to fluster Danny now, which is much better.

And maybe one day his pick up lines will work! Sooner or later Danny’s going to question why he keeps doing this, and then he’ll connect the dots and understand what Duke feels for him.

As it is, he has yet to connect shit.

“My eyes are definitely blue,” Danny says as he walks out of the cafe, messenger bag slung over his shoulder. “I checked while I was putting my apron away.”

“You’re still on that?”

“They’re blue.”

Duke gestures for Danny to come closer. He complies and leans down, letting Duke cup his face in his hands. He checks, considers, then checks again, and says, “They are indeed blue.”

“Told you they weren’t green,” Danny says smugly, pulling back.

“And I said they were green sometimes. Now clearly isn’t one of those times, but they do turn green!”

“I don’t think you should be allowed to say any eye-related pick up lines until you admit that you were wrong and didn’t know my eye color.”

Shaking his head, Duke stands up and pushes in his chair. “Just wait, I’ll catch it sometime and prove it to you.”

“Sure, whatever. Don’t you have library books to get?”

“Yeah, you coming with?”

“Obviously. Why else would I leave my wonderful job where I am left alone to make drinks in peace?” Danny knocks his shoulder against Duke playfully, then reaches over and steals his drink right out of his hand. He takes a sip, makes a pleased hum, and drains half of what was left in the cup.

“Hey!” Duke moves to take it back, which is naturally the exact moment Danny takes off running, effortlessly dodging everyone else on the sidewalk. He takes off after Danny, using his powers to make sure he can move out of the way of anything or anyone who gets in his path.

They’re past the block when Danny starts to slow down, taking another sip of Duke’s latte.

He puts on a final burst of speed and all but tackles Danny into the mouth of an alley, reaching for his cup. “Gotcha!”

“No!” Danny wails dramatically. He takes a step back and Duke watches as his power kicks up again, showing him a vision of Danny stepping on an empty can and falling back. Except he doesn’t really fall back? His foot rolls back on the can for a second, then goes through the can and settles back onto the ground where he catches his balance. Through the entire three second fall, Danny’s eyes are a bright green, brighter than Duke’s ever seen them.

His vision fades away and he moves to catch Danny, taking the chance to watch carefully as Danny’s foot does indeed go through the can. He quickly brings his gaze up to Danny’s eyes, which are green, but not inhumanly bright like they were in his vision.

Is the green not perceptible to normal humans?

He can probably only see it due to his powers. Which means he somewhat inadvertently outed himself as a meta.

Whoops!

Might as well just bite the bullet.

“Hey, do you have powers?”

Danny chokes, shoving Duke away as he coughs and tries to clear his throat. He looks panicked, wild-eyed, searching for an escape route. “What? No. Why would I have powers? Maybe you have powers, have you ever considered that?”

“I mean. I do have powers. That’s why I’m asking.”

“Hold up. Stop talking. You have powers?”

“And your eyes are green sometimes.”

“That’s. No, they’re not,” Danny lies. It’s a very bad lie, seeing how on edge he is, and as much as Duke hates making Danny feel like that, he did get some bad habits while training with Bruce and this is one of them: the need to keep pushing, chasing after clear answers regardless of what the cost is.

Duke shrugs, taking a sip of his latte, down to its last few mouthfuls, acting casual. “If you say so. But my powers don’t lie, man. As much as I wish they would, sometimes.”

“...Can we not do this out here?” The defeated tone Danny speaks with makes Duke hate himself. But he needs answers now. He needs to know if Danny is like him, if he’s safe, if he needs help. He needs it more than he needs Danny to like him at all.

“Sure. I know a few quiet places we can talk.”

“I can’t believe this is happening,” Danny mutters. “Did my eyes really give it away?”

“Yeah. I mean, to be fair, I also didn’t realize until literally right now, so I don’t think anyone else will figure it out just from staring into your eyes.”

“See, this is what happens when you keep flirting when you don’t mean it. Secrets get pulled out into the open and it’s bad for everyone!”

Duke lightly punches Danny’s arm, trying to lift the mood. “Hey, who said I didn’t mean it?”

“What?”

“Who said I didn’t mean it when I flirt with you?”

Danny blinks at him, confused, then says, “I mean, no one I guess. But it’s pretty obvious?”

“I only flirt with you, you know.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah,” Duke says, trying to ignore how his voice shakes slightly. “There’s another one of my secrets. Can we call it even now?”

“Oh!” The shock of the revelation distracts Danny from his earlier nerves. Which is great, because now Duke is the one who’s nervous. It’s worth it, though, seeing the pretty blush come to bloom on Danny’s cheeks. “So all those pick up lines—”

“Yeah.”

“And the pick up line made you realize my powers!”

“These pick up lines are doing the most,” Duke agrees. And then he realizes, “Hey, you what this means? I was right! Your eyes are windows to your soul!”

“I’m going to hit you,” Danny says, already winding back for a solid punch. He lets Danny hit him since it’s only fair for the stress he caused; as a meta, Duke knows how important secrecy is, how the difference between life and death can be just how well his powers are hidden.

“Are we even now?”

Danny considers him for a moment, then sighs. “Yeah, I guess. Let’s be done with this for now, okay? Let’s go to the library.”

He refuses to entertain any conversation about powers or Duke’s feelings for him. It’s nice to spend time with Danny, but by the end, Duke is sure he can feel his heart start to crack in half. A sleepless night awaits him when he gets home, moving past his cousin’s attempts to talk to him in favor of flopping face down onto his bed.

But the next day, Danny grins at him when he walks into the cafe. He doesn’t have a new pick up line, choosing instead to act as calm and casual as possible to give Danny some space.

Also breaking routine, Danny insists on personally making Duke’s drink, writing something onto the cup before he fills it up with a floral tea.

You’re so fine, you made me forget my pick up line, is scrawled on the side of his cup when he gets it.

“Enjoy your drink, Cutiepie the Third,” Danny says with a shy smile.

“The Third?” Duke repeats, relief making him feel lighter than air, “Who are the first two?”

“Don’t worry about it, cutie. Get to class!”

Duke lets Danny chase him out, and holds in his laugh when he hears Danny’s coworker screech, “What was that?!”

Yeah, they’ll be fine. In the meantime, Duke needs to see if apology pick up lines are thing. Danny definitely deserves one.

#ghostlights #dc x dp #dp x dc #dcxdp #dpxdc #prompt fill #my writing #duke went from flirting to accidentally outing both himself AND danny as people w powers. and then lowkey confessing. disaster <3 #meanwhile danny has been slowly falling for duke bc of his cute and cheesy pick up lines that he always turned into a joke bc he didnt #believe that it was real. and also his coworkers would embarrass him if he got too flustered #they all ship him and duke btw. so do some of the regulars #coffe with a two minute show lol #thank you for the prompt!!

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literaila · 9 months ago

Note

could you write a really fluffy peter Parker fic for Valentine’s Day (with banter ofc)

valentine, oh mine

tasm!peter x reader

a/n: this is not cute or fun or any of the things i aspire to be. it is painful. peter dies (he doesn’t). don’t read this.

“will you be my valentine?”

“hello, peter,” you answer, through your toothbrush. the words are deadpan. “i’m doing well, thank you. how are you?”

“better if you answer the question.”

you laugh, letting his response linger for a moment as you try to discern where, exactly, he is. your mouth tastes like spearmint, and it would be perfect to kiss him with. even though it’s monday, and almost midnight, and he shouldn’t be here.

for a whole multitude of reasons (number one being that you know he’ll keep you awake for at least a couple of hours more).

“where are you?” you ask him, listening to ruffling and a whine from the other end.

a manly whine, he might tell you, if you could see his face and make fun of it.

“stop deflecting. you don’t wanna be my valentine?” you can hear the frown.

and then there’s a horn, signaling absolutely nothing.

you spit into the sink, and put him on speaker as you rinse.

“i’ve gotta say that this is one of the more underwhelming valentine proposals i’ve gotten. you’re not even here. instead you’re…” you drawl, “where, again?”

“this is just further proof that i’m always thinking about you,” peter tells you, recalling an argument you’d had the day prior.

about how he wasn’t paying attention to you—or the conversation you were trying to have with him about one of your coworkers—but instead, according to him, thinking about you.

which did not help his case, of course. instead you’d given him the silence treatment for three minutes while he groveled—poorly.

and you doubt that he was thinking about valentine’s day when his eyes were glued to your lips the entire time.

“again,” you tell him, trying to hide the sound of a smile in your voice, “i would rather you just listen to me. answer my question and i’ll answer yours,” you bargain.

“how’s that fair? i asked first.”

“i asked second.”

peter sighs, and there’s a brief pause where he breaks up. you mess with the sound settings to no avail. up or down, his voice is distorted.

“are you—“ his voice wonders. “i was gonna tell you—“ and then a pause. and then. “are you giving me the silent treatment again?”

“cant hear you,” you hum. “somethings wrong with your phone.”

“how do you know it’s mine?” his voice enters again, breaking back and forth. another honking, and silence as he puts himself on mute.

because you’re no fool, and you know that peter would’ve answered the question already—if only to get you to answer his—if he didn’t know that you’d scold him for it.

“cause i can hear the wind while you swing,” you tease, though swallow, your voice is aiding the anger you should feel—because your boyfriend is a liar, and a traitor and you kinda hate him.

but you’re not really angry. you haven’t seen him since he left your house at six in the morning, so that’s probably why.

“i—“ there’s a pause. and then his voice is clear again. “that’s my hairdryer.”

“are you lying to me, peter?”

“it might even be the connection,” he continues, idly. “may’s been complaining about the service but i’ve been too busy to check the box, so—“

“are you still lying to me?”

you can almost see him swallow. “…no?”

“i told you not to call me when you’re out.”

“so you never want me to call you?” he asks, mock hurt. “when i’m not out, i’m always with you. i thought you liked my phone calls, and my voice if my memory serves me. someone really liked it—“

“you know what i mean.”

“do i?”

“peter parker, unless you want me to hang up—“

“okay, okay,” there’s still no swinging. “i’m sorry.”

“no, you’re not,” you whine, sitting on your bed and listening closely so he can’t trick you again.

“i actually am this time,” he swears. “i won’t do it again. but this is a very important matter.”

“swinging while talking is basically like texting and driving, and if i was doing that i’d be getting an earful from you.”

“it’s so not the same thing. first of all, spider senses, please keep up,” he tells you, laughing. “and who am i going to hurt in the open air?”

“a pigeon,” you say, almost angrily. “they’re an endangered species, you idiot.”

“they’re definitely not.”

“okay, then, yourself. who’s going to be my valentine if you slam into a wall and crack your head open?”

peter would not look cute without his skull, you remain firm on this fact.

you can hear his smile. “i knew you wanted to be my valentine.”

“before i knew you were lying to me.”

“you lie to me all of the time,” peter argues.

your brows furrow. “when?”

“when you said that you don’t like it when i call you,” he murmurs, almost soft, still teasing. “i know you do. you miss me.”

“i miss my boyfriend,” you answer, biting back some other remark about how you don’t miss him at all—honestly, you’re trying to prove that you’re not lying. “but apparently i’m talking to a superhero.”

“oh, did i forget to mention that? must’ve slipped my mind.”

“where are you now?” you ask. “it’s quiet.”

and then there’s a tap on the wall to your right.

“peter…”

“yes?”

“is that you?”

“maybe.”

“are you kidding?” you grumble, crawling on your knees to push back the curtains and open the window. you frown as you unlatch it, hands interrupted by other ones, doing the same thing. “how long have you been sitting out here?”

“since ‘are you lying?’ i think.” he says, in a terrible impression of your voice. “it’s cold.”

you pull him in by his wrist, immediately pushing him off when he tries to land on your bed on top of you.

peter pulls his mask off, smiling at you. “hi.”

“i’m mad. go take a shower.”

his fingers tip-toe up your arm, trying to get you to shiver. “are you really?” he hums.

“yes.”

“how can i make it up to you?”

“find me a better, non-lying valentine,” you tell him, pouting as you look away.

“is this supposed to be an answer?”

“why didn’t you just wait?” you ask instead. “if you were going to come here anyway, why didn’t you ask me in person instead of being a disappointment, and breaking a rule?”

“i don’t recall signing a contract…”

you groan, sitting up and crossing your legs as you look at him. unfortunately for you, his hair has fallen over his eyes just right, and you still want to kiss him.

“take me seriously.”

“i take everything you say,” he leans in, “very seriously.”

you push his nose. “you don’t.”

“i do!” he swears, grabbing your hand. “i’m listening. tell me what’s wrong.”

he says this condescendingly, because you already told him—kind of—but he knows that if you have to repeat it, you’ll break.

“this is why they say familiarity breeds contempt.”

peter smiles. “are you feeling contemptful right now?”

you nod.

he leans again, and you cant push him away. “how can i help?”

“you can apologize.”

peter’s smile grows softer as you look at him with eyes of steel, like he finds this version of you cute. your pout and your false anger, all bundled up into one perfect package.

just for him, you suppose.

he leans in some more, “i’m sorry,” he says, softly, just brushing your lips. “i was excited.”

you purse your lips, even while his are soft and teasing against them. it feels kind of like a feather brushing your skin, like peters got his own secret form of tickling you.

teasing you, like he always does. familiarity breeds contempt, and comfort, and confusion, and…

he kisses you fully, this time. a gentle peck. “i wanted to hear your voice,” he admits. “i’m impatient. i should listen to you more.”

“right…” you whisper, with him, as your only form of acknowledgement.

“i won’t call you while i’m out, okay? or i’ll pause somewhere.”

your brows are permanently fixed together. “don’t pause. just… get some headphones, or something.” you let your lips relax, finally, and they fall against his just as a consequence. “i like your voice too,” you admit, quietly, as an afterthought.

peters smile is bashful. “like wireless ones? not sure how that would work under the mask…”

“you made the suit,” you tell him, leaning back. “you cant figure it out, genius?”

“i’ll do it for you, i guess,” he sighs, but his fingertips trace the skin on both of your arms, simply because he’s that close.

“thank you.”

“are we done fighting now?”

you frown, pushing his hands away so you can cross your arms. “no. you really asked me to be your valentine over the phone?”

peter sighs, shaking his head. “i knew i should’ve gone with the skywriting.”

“or,” you say, rhetorically, “i don’t know, maybe a box of chocolates? flowers? a quick ‘hey, will you be my valentine?’ before you left this morning?”

“that’s so lame.”

“so is asking me over the phone.”

“i was excited,” peter argues. “i wanted an answer.”

“well you didn’t get one.”

“yes i did,” he tells you, finally grabbing your arm so he can pull you on top of him (because seriously, this is unfair).

“no.”

“you said i was your valentine,” he reminds you, tilting your head up so you’re looking at him.

“you’re mine,” you tell him, rolling your eyes. “i never said i was yours.”

“wow,” peter murmurs. “that might be the worst thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“please. i called you a vermin to may the other day.”

he pouts, childishly.

“ask me nicely,” you say, after a moment.

“i did.”

“ask me nicely again.”

there’s a pause where two stubborn people meet at a head—literally, head to head—and consider the prospects of losing this battle.

but peter is softer than you are, when you tease a smile on your lips, he breaks. “will you be my valentine?”

“hmm,” you ponder, looking away. “i’ll think about it. i mean, there’s a lot of options to choose from.”

peter bites your nose in retaliation and the two of you laugh until you’re dizzy

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twice-inamillion · 10 months ago

Text

The Company

Strangers

Smut and Story Building (Stranger sex, teasing, rebound sex, deep penetration, creampie, blowjob)

Chapter 5

2,610 Words

(Jessica and you have dinner together after her failed attempt to meet with her friends. She complains about her ex and you find your way to fuck her at the end, maybe a little too good. Now she can’t go to her ex or any other man after your lustful adventure.)

It’s been a busy couple of weeks in your personal and professional life. You haven’t had a chance to rest, besides the occasion blowjob at the office. This week, you’ve finalized two groups that will be debuting in the near future. You’ve waited so long for your first group to debut that you couldn’t help but support them the best you could. You made the decision to move them out of their cramped dorms and into a nicer and more spacious apartment meant for confirmed idol groups.

Wanting to see their reaction, you disguise yourself as staff and help them move in. You can’t help but smile at their reaction when they see their new apartment. You and IU give them a tour and get furniture arranged to their liking. As you carry some of the heavy items, you can’t help but notice one of the members eyeing you from time to time. “Where do you want this box?” She walks between you, points at where she wants her item and continues to follow you around. You then hear, “Jennie, stop following him and come help us bring these boxes.” You see Jennie’s face turn red from the comment that her groupmate Jisoo made.

After a couple of hours, the five members thank you for your help, and you let them know to inform IU if you need any help, to which they happily agree.

——————

You’re heading up the elevator when it stops. The door opens, and you see a familiar figure.

“Jessica?”

“Ahh, yes,” bowing after realizing you’re Taeyeon and IU’s boss.

“Don’t need to be formal. Feel free to speak freely.”

“Okay.”

“What are you doing here?”

“I came to surprise IU and Taeyeon, but they’re not home.”

“Oh… I think they’re busy until late tonight.”

You can see her reaction change and say, “Seems like something is bothering you.”

“Yeah, I need to talk to them about something.”

“If you don’t mind, I’m willing to lend an ear. How about joining me for dinner?”

She stays silent and seems to think about it for a while but makes up her mind, “Yeah, I think I’ll take you on the offer.”

The two of you head to your apartment, “Wow, your place is so big. I didn’t know you had a whole floor to yourself.”

“It’s nice. I know I won’t have time to commute from home, so I moved next to the company, which makes it much easier. Want a drink?”

“Sure.”

You serve her a drink, and she sits on the stool, watching you prepare dinner. You make a nice Korean meal, and the two of you share some wine. She tells you about the problems between her members, but more about her failed relationship with her now ex-boyfriend.

“He’s such a dumb ass. He was so scared of people finding out about our relationship that he just chose to distance each other.”

“His loss. If I was him, I wouldn’t care what people think.”

“Right, he’s such a wuss. I don’t need people like that in my life.”

“Maybe you’ll find someone that cares for you. I mean, look at you; you’re beautiful; who wouldn’t want to date you.”

“Aww, thank you. I would totally date you if you weren’t with Taeyeon,” says Jessica as she takes a sip of her wine.

“What do you mean together with Taeyeon?”

“Aren’t you to dating?”

“No, I’m not with anyone.”

“Oh… it just seemed with you were. She said you to had a thing.”

“We fucked, but nothing serious.”

“So you’re not together?”

“No.”

Jessica fixes her hair and undoes her blouse a bit, “You know, it's been a while since my ex and fucked. He was too intimidated by my popularity that he stopped giving me affection.”

“Oh really, maybe I can help you with that.”

“Hmm… I don’t know. We don’t know each other that well,” teasing you as she shows off a bit of cleavage.

“If you don’t want to, that’s fine, but from the looks of it, you need someone to fuck you real good to make you forget that bitch of a boyfriend you had.”

She smirked at you, knowing that you hit the nail. “Not saying that I’ll let you, but if I did, what would you do to me?”

“I’ll take you right here, right now, and put you on all fours. I’ll put your ass up and shove my cock in that hungry cunt of yours and fuck you until you forget that ex of yours.”

You could see that she was getting turned on by the way she would move her legs under the kitchen counter. You know she needs a good fucking, and she knows it as well.

“You think you can make me forget about him? You’re that good?”

“If Taeyeon told you about what do you think?”

“You’re just talking.”

You walk around the countertop, turn her stool around to face you, and say, “Just say the word, and I’ll guarantee you forget that ex of yours.” You look straight into her eyes; you can see the lust in her. You know the thin line she is about to cross; you can see it in your eye; all you need to hear is the magic words.

“Fuck me, make me forget.”

Those are the words you wanted to hear. The is no going back, especially for her. You’ll make sure you make her forget about that sad excuse of a boyfriend.

She wraps her legs around you as you pick her up from the stool and take her to the couch. She kisses you passionately on the way there, but you don’t care for that and toss her onto the couch. You take off your shirt and see her eyes widen, and biting her lip. Her reaction makes you smirk and decide to go all out. You’re not here for foreplay; you’re here to fuck the shit out of her.

You pull off her skirt and panties, tossing them across the room, “Wow, so eager, huh.”

“I’m here to fuck you, right? Plus, I can see that you’re wet already, so let’s not waste any time.”

She nods her head, and you continue to undress, pulling down your pants and boxers, revealing your cock.

She gasps when she sees your cock spring out and says, “Oh my god. Your cock is so big!”

“Bigger than your ex, huh.”

“Yeah, much, much bigger. His doesn’t even compare. Don’t think it’s all going to fit inside me, though.”

“It will. It fits inside of Taeyeon. I bet you’ll take me in nicely, too.”

You grab your cock and slap it on her slightly shaven cunt, just small traces of hair from not having sex in a while. She could feel the hot radiating from your cock, making her cunt leak even more.

“You like it?,” asking as you press your cock on her pelvis. “Yeah, I want you in me; make me forget of that dirtbag.”

You can help but smile as you align your rock-hard cock and slowly press the tip inside of the entrance. Jessica moans and whines, from how much you’re stretching her, “Oh my god! You’re so big!” You grab her hips with a firm grip and press your weight on her. She feels your thick cock spread her walls, “Fuck… it feels like you’re splitting me in half!”

“You’re so tight! How small was your ex? Feels like I’m the first one fucking you!”

She whines and groans as your try to insert more of your cock, “Much smaller! His cock is nothing compared to yours!”

You can’t help but laugh at the poor guy, “Damn, poor guy, but don’t worry; I’m going to stretch you real good,” as you slam your cock all the way inside Jessica’s womb. She screams in both pain and pleasure, “You’re hitting me so deep! Let me breathe a bit,” but you don’t let her. You’re here to fuck and enjoy and enjoy, so watching her whine turns you on. You increase the speed and strength of your thrusting and can see Jessica go in a state of ecstasy. Her body and mind are experiencing something they have never experienced before.

You can’t help but smile at the sight of Jessica’s eyes rolling back and making her into a complete mess. It’s not long until she ends up having an orgasm, her body squirming, “Ahh… ahh, fuck! What’s going on? Why is my body feeling so hot? I feel like I’m going to pee!” and cries as she sprays you of liquid when you pinch her clit.

You pull your cock and are sprayed with Jessica’s liquid and see her panting. You immediately plugged your cock back inside of her, causing her to cough violently from the sudden pain of her womb getting stabbed. She tries to push you off, but it's no use. You can feel your own high arriving, and you need to see it through.

Her walls were tight, and it was making you reach your peak; you know that it’s the first time you two actually met besides her casual visit, but you really want to cum inside of her like one of your sleeves.

“Fuck… I’m about to cum.”

Jessica’s eyes go wide, and she says, “Wait… cum outside, pull out!”

“Nah… I’m going to cum inside!” you yell and grab her waist and blow your load inside of her. Jessica’s back arches and her body shakes as she feels your heavy white load invade her cunt. “Fuck…your pussy is milking me…”

It takes a while for Jessica to regain her composure, but after some time, she lifts her head up and says, “I told you to pull out. Why did you come in me?”

“You said you wanted to forget about your ex, right?”

“Yeah, but don’t just cum inside me.”

“Why not?”

“Just don’t. Not even my ex came inside of me,” she pouted.

“Haha, really?

“Yes, I made him wear a condom every time.”

“So that means I’m the first one to paint you white?”

“Yes…”

You can’t help yourself but get turned on again. You pick her up and carry her to the bedroom next to yours. She yelps when you toss her onto the bed and turn her over. You lift her, press her body down and lift her butt up in the air and spread her legs.

“Wait…what are you doing?”

“What does it look like? I’m hard, and I really want to fuck you, so just relax and enjoy.”

“Wait… I’m not…” you don’t give her time to finish off her sentence as you quickly align your cock to her entrance and shove it in one go. “Oh fuck! You’re being too rough!”

You grab her ass and give it a nice feel before giving it a hard slap. Jessica groans in pain from your large hand on her rear but gets turned on. Seeing her reaction, you continue to slap her ass, every time with a heavy hand, until her ass is completely red.

You thrust inside of her for about ten minutes until you’re at your peak once more. With your two hands, you grab her hips and bring them towards you as you place your weight on her and say, “I’m cumming! I’m going to paint your walls completely white. Your pussy is mine!”

You unload a massive amount of cum inside her, completely drowning her cunt of your seed, “Take my cum!” as Jessica’s blood comes rushing to her head. She grabs onto the bedsheets, gripping them hard as you drop your load into her cunt. “It’s too much; you’re going to drown me!”

You pull out your cock and watch your cum ooze out of her and stain the bed. “How was it?”

“Hot. I can feel the warmth right here,” she says as she points at her tummy.

———-

The two of you spend the whole night fucking, round after round. You smirk as she moans out your name and digs her nails deep into your arm as you fuck her. Anywhere from the hot tub, out on the balcony, and the shower. By the next day, she’s a mess, her womb completely yours and the shape of your massive cock. You know she’s ruined for any other man that’s not near your size.

“Still remember your ex?”

“What ex?”

You can’t help but laugh as you enjoy a blowjob from Jessica while lying on the bed. With her hand around your cock she bobs her head. Her tongue coats every inch of you with a thick layer of saliva. You grab your phone and take a quick picture before Jessica notices. She lifts her and catches you, “Hey, what are you doing?”

You grab her head and press it back down, causing her to gag when your cock hits the back of her throat. The sudden reaction of hitting her throat causes you to bust a load. In a panic, she tries to drink as much as she can because it's too much for her and gags. You release your grip, and Jessica lifts her head up, coughing. You watch cum dripping out her mouth and back onto your pelvis. “Lick it off.” She sees your serious look and does as she’s told, licking off the cum she just spits out.

Suddenly, her phone rings, and she grabs the phone from the nightstand. She answered the phone, and it was Taeyeon with IU.

“Why haven’t you answered our texts? Where are you?”

“Sorry, I fell asleep after getting home.”

“Oh, okay, we’re sorry we were not able to meet yesterday. How about joining us for brunch?”

“Hmmm… I think we can…” She stops mid-sentence when she sees what’s in front of her.

You wave your cock in front of her and whisper, “Want to go again?”

She sees your limp cock get hard in a matter of seconds and is now at full length. She bites her lip and climbs on top of you, lifts herself to your cock, and with her free hand, aligns it to her cum stained, covered cunt before dropping her whole weight on you. She yelps from the girth and tightens her walls, “Ahh… actually, I have some last-minute things I need to take care of that might take me a while. How about meeting later next week?”

“Oh… okay. Next week sounds good.”

“Okay, bye…”

You grab the phone off her hands and end the call, throwing her phone at the end of the bed. “I see someone wants to go another round.”

“Shut up.”

“How about this round? Grab some breakfast after. Maybe dinner, too.” She smiles and begins to ride you.

——————

The two of you end up sending the whole weekend fucking like animals. At the end of each session, she begs you to pump her womb with cum, even going as far as to breed her. Like a gentleman, you do as you're told and even tease about her ex; she pinches your thigh and tells you to fuck her harder. You even joke around and say, “Do you think we know each other better now?”

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