#i started this like last year and then just never got around to finishing it
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holylulusworld · 1 day ago
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How to cure a grump (1)
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Summary: You're losing your job on Christmas.
Pairing: CEO/Boss!Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader
Warnings: angst, grumpy Bucky, awful boss
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“Santa Claus is coming to town,” you sing along to the song blaring from your phone. You’re, as so often, the last one at the office.
Before the holidays, most of your colleagues try to get out of the office as early as possible. They have better plans than to work like busy ants two days before Christmas.
Sadly, you didn’t get to leave on the clock. Your boss demanded your attention. You couldn’t join your colleagues at the little Christmas party you organized for weeks.
Now they will all exchange the Secret Santa gifts you got for most of them, drink eggnog, and sing awful Christmas songs while you are stuck here with your grumpy boss.
“Miss Y/L/N, I need the numbers now." Mr. Barnes doesn’t even walk toward your desk. He simply barks orders your way.
You heave out a sigh and glance at the stack of papers on your desk. Before you get up to hand Mr. Barnes the numbers he wanted you to finish before the holidays, you save your work.
Grabbing the papers, you silently pray that Mr. Barnes won’t come up with more tasks. It’s long past your work time, and you’re tired and cranky. You’ll need a good night’s sleep and at least a day off before driving home for Christmas.
“Miss Y/L/N,” he barks as you are already halfway toward his office. Mr. Barnes huffs as you stumble over your own feet. “You know, I had better things to do than wait for the numbers. I have been waiting for hours. I think you’re the worst person working here.”
For a second, you’re stunned. You feel like Mr. Barnes slapped you across your face.
“Maybe if you asked the person responsible for the mistake to help you with the numbers, you'd like the outcome better. I worked overtime only to get yelled at!” You gasp. The words just flew out of your mouth, unfiltered and raw with emotions.
“Well, maybe you shouldn’t work here any more then!” He bites back. It wasn’t a surprise to you that Mr. Barnes lost his temper. He’s always been a little hot-headed and grumpy. Mr. Barnes fired people here and there over the years. You just didn’t think you’d be one of them one day.
“You’re firing me after I fixed a mistake someone else made?” You huff and cross your arms over your chest. “I don’t see anyone else standing in line to work through the numbers. I worked overtime before the holidays to do you a favor.”
“That’s your job,” he growls and points at the door. “Or was. I want you to pack your things and don’t come back.”
“Fine,” you huff and turn on your heels, regretting your mishap instantly. You’d apologize and even fall to your knees to get your job back. Sadly, Mr. Barnes is a strict man. He doesn’t accept mistakes or insubordination. Whatever you’d do or say, there was no way he’d give you your job back.
So, you got a box from the storage room, emptied your desk, grabbed your belongings, and left the building for the last time in your life. To hell with this job and your boss.
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“Mom, stop asking questions,” you plead as your mother wouldn’t stop asking questions about your job.
“It’s all so exciting. Living in the big city, having friends you meet up at bars like Carrie in Sex and the City, and your job. It sounds wonderful!”
“Mom, I barely made any friends,” you sigh, and try to rub the embarrassment off your face. “I’d call them work friends or acquaintances.”
“I bet they are all too happy to have you around,” she coos and cups your face. “I know my Munchkin conquered the big city in no time.”
“Mom, I—” you sniffle and look away, ashamed. It never gets easy to lie to your mother. “I have to tell you something about the job.”
“What is it, Munchkin?” she asks, looking at you, worry in her eyes. She coos to you as you begin to cry. Starting anew after your long-term boyfriend and fiancé broke things up was the dream you wanted to fulfill. Now, you failed again.
“I got fired yesterday,” you sniff. “I worked overtime, and my boss yelled at me. I fixed someone else’s mistake, and he still yelled at me. I lost it and…” You shake your head and refuse to look at your mother.
“Y/N, that’s not the end of the world.” She wraps you in a warm embrace. The kind of embrace only a mother can give you. You feel warm and safe, remembering all the times she calmed you in times of need. “You’ll find a new job, a better one. If he fired you, that man doesn’t know how to value you.”
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“The fuck no!” Bucky flings a stack of papers across the room. He tried to access your account, only to realize he never asked you to reset your password. Now he’s seething because most of your work, except the files you shared with colleagues and him, is password protected. “She forgot to reset the fucking password!”
“Well, you told her to pack her things and leave, Buck. What did you expect to happen?” Steve huffs. He had to leave his cozy home and wife to help Bucky with some unimportant paperwork. “We've got time to fix this until after the holidays.”
“Unimportant to you,” Bucky bites back. “I want this finished before the year ends.”
“Buck,” Steve snorts. “If you need her password, call her.” The blonde shrugs before turning to leave. “I know you are not the best at communicating, but I believe in you. You can handle a phone call with a woman you just fired.”
“I tried more than once,” Bucky snaps at his best friend and business partner. “She won’t answer. The last time I called, she blocked my number.”
“Yeah, because you fired her!” Steve replies, laughing. “I wouldn’t answer any call from an asshole firing me two days before Christmas, either.”
Bucky opens his mouth to reply. He huffs as his friend already walks toward the door.
“What shall I do now? I need the password!”
“If you cannot reach her, go to her home and ask for the password. I will go home now. Please don’t call me during Christmas. Natasha will rip me a new one if I miss Christmas.”
“She’s not home. I was there. Her neighbors told me that Y/N will spend Christmas at her parents’ house. There’s nothing I can do about it.”
“Buck,” Steve laughs. “You can fly to her hometown and ask her for the password. While on your way back, you can celebrate with a pretty stewardess in first class as every Christmas…”
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kaminocasey · 3 days ago
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Hey! I'm gonna take advantage of your charity and incredible talent and ask me some Silco stuff, and I will make it very personal.
Im just a sucker for angsty fluff, so I was thinking something in the lines of reader works either in some restaurant where Silco goes or actually works in the last drop. And she's just having a rough couple of days and Silco finds out about it and just wants to help (maybe he gets frustrated because of it all, and goes all Silco, you know what I mean? Damn I'm gonna shut up now). But we all know Silco is not the most affectionate man, or at least shows it in weird (?) ways. I feel like it would be better (?) if they didn't have a relationship yet. But I'll leave it to your brilliance to do as you please, I have complete trust in your skills.
But remember, you don't have to do this if you don't feel like it of course.
Anyway, to much information already. So good luck, love your work, that brain of yours and you in general ❤️💙💛🤍
PS- do not allow me to make more requests, I will make them long, weird and I'll keep remembering more stuff to add and the next thing you know it's a full blown fic 🤣
Take All Your Sins
A/N: Thank you so much for your request, love!!! I was excited to do this one!!! This is going to be a two parter or MORE for SURE. <3 ilysm thank you again for your trust in me!!!
Summary: You work in the Last Drop and very close to Vander. What happens if Silco comes along and ruins that?
Pairing: Silco x Reader
WC: 1.4k
Warnings: Angst, sweet Silco, protective Vander, alcohol
Taglist Form | Arcane Masterlist
“If you have something else to do, I can finish those.” You come into the doorway of the kitchen, nodding toward the dishes that he’s doing. 
“I got ‘em. Almost done.” The older man smiles at you.
A few years ago, Vander gave you a place to stay when he found you out on the streets and ever since then, you were basically inseparable. His kids were like your own. 
“Rough night, huh?” Vander asks as you lean in the doorway, keeping an eye on the place in case more patrons came in. 
The Last Drop is usually busy this time of night, especially on this day of the week. But it’s like a ghost town right now and you can’t seem to figure out why.
“Rough week.” You sigh, crossing your arms. 
“Do you need a couple days off?” Vander asks, genuinely.
He always made sure you were taken care of, which you appreciate, but sometimes it feels like he does too much for others, and never lets anyone do anything for him. You’re bound to change that though. His birthday is coming up and you’ve been saving up for something special that will be from you and the kids. 
“Nah, I’m-” You start but hear the door open.
“You got it?” Vander asks and you nod with a grin and turn around to greet the customer, letting the kitchen door swing shut.
“What can I get ya?” You smile at the older man, who makes you do a subtle double take.
“Whiskey. Neat, please.” He smiles. 
He’s got dark hair, a partially scarred face, one blue eye and the other dark black with an orange iris that makes him look incredibly menacing. He’s wearing an open, fancy peacoat with a buttoned vest and tie. Who the hell is this guy?
His eyes rake over you as you approach the bar where he sits. 
“Haven’t seen you before.” You smile, politely. 
“I don’t get out much.” He takes his coat off and sits it down on the stool next to him. “I… work a lot.” 
His voice is silky and you can’t help but want to hear him say more. 
“What do you do?” You ask as you pour his drink. 
“I own my own business.” He tells you and takes the drink when you slide it to him. 
The way he says it, makes you think he doesn’t want to answer anymore questions about himself. 
“What’s your name?” He asks softly. 
You tell him and he takes a sip, keeping his blue eye on you. You smile softly, unsure of what to say.
“Pretty name.” He tells you, after he finishes off his drink. 
You go to pour him another but he puts his hand over his drink and shakes his head.
“Thanks.” You put the bottle back down and then take the empty glass from him, sitting it in the sink. “What’s yours?” 
“Silco. Do you like working here?” He asks, not missing a beat. 
You nod. “Yeah, I do.” 
“And you like Vander?” 
You nod. “Who doesn’t?” 
He chuckles, glancing around subtly. “Who doesn’t, indeed?”
“What are you doing after work?” He asks. 
Oh… of course. He thinks you’re going to put out- 
“I’m not trying to fuck you.” He tells you, as if he can read your mind while he stands up and puts his coat back on.
“You’re not?” You narrow your eyes at him.
“I mean, I wouldn’t say no if you wanted to, but that’s not why I asked.” He smirks.
You both stare at each other for a moment. His eyes fall to your lips before coming back up to your eyes.
“So… the real reason is?” You cross your arms.
“I think you’re beautiful and I’ve not been on a proper date in years.” Silco shrugs, placing a hand on the back of the barstool. 
You go warm in the face before looking down at his slender fingers and immediately can’t help but wonder what they’d feel like inside-
“I’ll be by at 11.” He tells you, snapping your thoughts back to the present as he places a few cogs onto the bar. 
“Um. Alright.” You nod, giving a kind smile. 
He stares at you for another short moment before giving you a smile back and then leaving. Just as the door closes, Vander walks out and sees you staring at the door, breaking you out of the trance that Silco seemed to have put you in.
“Everything okay?” He asks, placing a hand on your shoulder.
You look up at him, smiling a little dreamily. It’s not something you’re used to. Normally, when customers ask you out, you brush them off and pay them no mind. But Silco… he managed to get you to pay attention. 
“All good. Um… I have a date after work.” You go warm in the face at the word ‘date’. 
It’s not like you don’t date… you do… just not consistently. The last date you went on was a year ago. It didn’t go well so you decided to just focus on work.
“With the customer that just came in? Who is he?” Vander’s eyebrows raise in surprise, knowing that you haven’t gone out with someone in a long time.
“Just… some guy.” You shrug, starting to wipe down the bar. 
Vander chuckles. “Alright. Keep your secrets. I was young once, too.”
You laugh with him, your thoughts immediately going back to Silco’s unmatching eyes and the way they softened at the sight of you. 
“You can go get ready if you want. I can finish here.” Vander smirks. 
You roll your eyes. “Thanks. I owe you.” 
“Nah. Get outta here.” He nods toward the door that leads to the upstairs. 
You pat him on the shoulder as you walk past him, heading upstairs to go shower. You look at the clock and see that it reads 9:30. That should give you plenty of time to get ready. You don’t take particularly long showers. 
As you turn on the water, you climb into the shower, letting the water flow over your body as you stand there for a moment before starting to wash your body and hair. You still can’t stop thinking about the older man. He had to be about Vander’s age, right? You wonder if they know each other. Perhaps after you get to know Silco a little more, you’ll introduce them. 
After your shower, you dry your hair the best you can and then settle on a dress that you’d saved up forever to buy just because. What better excuse to wear it than on a date with an extremely attractive, slightly intimidating, man? 
At ten til 11, you make your way back down to the bar. Vander and Benzo both let out a whistle at the sight of you.
“Don’t you clean up nice?” Vander grins. 
You shrug, going warm in the face from the attention. “I guess.” 
You sit up on the bar stool next to Benzo. You glance over at the door and then back at Vander. 
“Do you want something to loosen your nerves?” Vander teases. 
“I’m alright, thanks.” You roll your eyes, amused.
“Who’s this hot date with?” Benzo nudges you with his elbow. 
You go warm in the face all over again, thinking about Silco. “Just some older guy… he’ll be here any minute.” 
They accept that answer and continue their conversation from before about business stuff that you don’t really mind yourself with. You pretty much just show up and do your job and do exactly what Vander tells you to do and then go back upstairs and sleep. And then repeat. 
The door opens moments later, and the three of you look up to find Silco walking in. You can’t help but give him a sweet smile. He smirks at you and pauses by the door.
“Are you ready-” He starts.
“Silco.” Vander growls. 
“Hello, Vander.” Silco’s eyes fall past you to the man behind you. “Lovely establishment you have here.”
You turn to Vander, confused. “You know each other?”
“Oh yes, we do.” Silco walks toward you, wrapping an arm around your lower back, looking you up and down. “You look beautiful, darling.” 
“She’s not going anywhere with you.” Vander comes around the bar and starts toward Silco but Benzo gets up quickly from the stool and stops him. 
You look between Silco and Vander, still confused.
“I think that’s for her to decide.” Silco smirks up at Vander who stands almost a foot above him.
You turn to Vander, with furrowed brows. This man is the one who gave you life again, the man who is like a father to you. The man you owe your life to. If he says you shouldn’t go… then shouldn’t you listen to him?
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ghost-proofbaby · 2 days ago
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thinking about how eddie munson probably has a ridiculous collection of guitar picks. little jars of them. some collected at shows, some he picked up for a nickel at the only local music shop he's ever trusted to do work on his Sweetheart, some he was gifted for free at his local record shop that he's been frequenting for years now. the little old man running the record shop even gets excited when new vinyls are sent out with promotional merch, and he knows it's a band or musician eddie is into. probably even called eddie in at times and handed him a handful of metallica themed pics, hardly worth much, but solely because "i knew you like them and will find a good use for these, son".
my point is, he's got a pick for every occasion. shitty plastic thin ones for just fucking around with. thicker, nicer ones that might have been proper holiday gifts to him. the kind that are meant to hook on his fingers like rings (he tried using them a few times, especially for rifts, but ended up saying he played better when he felt the strings against his skin instead while picking away). novelty ones, ones that just looked plain cool. so on and so forth.
and he's got his collection just sitting in little jars across his room. he used to keep them in other things, like old ash trays or tin cans he'd cut and mold to be good containers. but then he started dating you, and you insisted on lending him any empty jars you weren't using. you had your own collections in yours: pretty stones found down by the creek, bottle caps of the sodas you and eddie get every time you stop at the gas station right on the edge of town by lover's lake - you even had one of every single crumpled up note eddie had ever given you over your time of dating. a few jars of those, actually. so what was lending him a few spares? at this point, the jars were a collection in themselves, and... well... it was prettier to see his vast collection in those glass jars anyways. being able to pick out the vibrant tones of the guitar pick you'd been with him as he'd purchased two weeks prior, or the pick from the show you'd gotten him tickets to last christmas. it was nice. a cute reminder of time spent, of what made eddie munson tick.
the important thing is, eddie munson isn't blind. he sees the way you look at that collection, especially after he fills the jars with it.
how some days, he'll be strumming away on his guitar, softly humming, and you'll just grab a jar to pick through. interrupting his nonsensical playing to ask him where he got one you didn't recognize, sometimes asking for the stories behind ones he knew you already knew. he'd caught on to the way you just liked hearing him talk, especially about the things he cared most about.
you also really, really liked the pick he wore as a necklace. it was probably your favorite in his collection, and you knew it was his favorite too. giving it as a gift to you was never an option, because it had been given as a gift to him originally by his mom.
so he does the next best thing.
he figures out your favorite pick in his collection. the one you always go back to, the one you ask for the story behind on a nearly weekly basis. one similar to the one always resting against his collarbones. pearly sheen, marbled tones, a slow indent the shape of his thumb being worn into the old tortoiseshell. it's a little less red, a little bit brighter, and he can't even strum it against his strings anymore without thinking of you. it's somehow become his lucky pick - the pick he cherishes most aside the one from his mom.
and the one he chooses to turn into a necklace, for you.
does it all himself. carefully piercing a hole through the top just like his own, picks out a nice chain that costs two paychecks of his, takes an old pocket knife to it and spends weeks carving your initials into the shiny material. he's gentle as hell with it, finishing it off with some gold paint to fill in the carving that matches the chain and swirling tones of the picks.
a week before christmas he nearly backs out of the gift idea, and almost begs wayne to help him go to the mall and pick out some other basic but safe gift for you. a perfume/cologne, a nice sweater, anything. wayne refuses to let him, and the only thing the gentle old man will offer is a nice box for eddie to place that necklace born of love into.
the look on your face on christmas morning, sitting in the center of the munson's living room, on the verge of happy tears as you lift the homemade necklace so gently, soothes away every single doubt ever had about it all.
and the look on wayne's face is a simple, caring, stern vision of i told you so.
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pandapetals · 10 hours ago
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Merry Christmas
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It's Christmas Day! You and Logan exchange gifts.
professor logan howlett x professor fem!reader - married couple, cute, fluff, banter, no y/n used, no reader description, your an english professor, logan is a history professor, holiday vibes, logan being a softie
read on ao3 or find more parts for the series: here
a/n: It’s the last one shot and i am sad. It’s been so much fun writing for christmas. I hope everyone gets logan under their tree this year.
divider credit: @saradika
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The mansion was silent, wrapped in a thick blanket of snow from the night’s storm, the world outside hushed and peaceful. You woke to the sound of Logan’s soft snoring beside you, his hand resting protectively on your hip, even in sleep. Smiling to yourself, you carefully slipped out of bed, pulling on your robe as you padded downstairs to put the finishing touches on his gifts.
You’d thought long and hard about what to get him, wanting each gift to be something meaningful. A leather tool roll, perfectly sized for his motorbike tools, so he’d always have something useful on hand. A bottle of his favorite whiskey, because you knew he’d never buy the fancy stuff for himself. And your personal favorite—a beautifully framed vintage map of the Canadian wilderness, detailing the rugged terrain of the land he loved so much. But the most important gift, the one that had taken you months to finish, was a small wooden box filled with letters, each one tied neatly with twine.
Each letter was for a different moment, a different feeling. One for when he felt alone, one for when he felt angry, one for when he doubted himself. Every letter was written to remind him how deeply he was loved, how much he mattered. You’d poured your heart into every word, hoping that he’d feel the weight of your love whenever he needed it most.
By the time you’d finished arranging everything under the tree, you heard the soft creak of the stairs and turned to see Logan coming down, rubbing the sleep from his eyes, hair even more wild than usual. He was wearing his old flannel shirt over sweatpants, looking gruff but endearingly soft, as if he hadn’t quite woken up.
"Mornin', darlin’," he mumbled, his voice rough, a sleepy smile tugging at his lips as he saw you waiting by the tree.
"Merry Christmas, Logan," you whispered, stepping forward to press a soft kiss to his cheek. His arm slid around your waist, pulling you closer, and for a moment, the two of you just stood there, wrapped in each other’s warmth as snowflakes drifted softly outside the window.
Reluctantly, you pulled back and gestured to the pile of gifts. "C’mon, let’s open these."
Logan chuckled, eyeing the gifts with a raised brow. "You went all out, huh? I didn’t know we were doin’ this whole… gift thing."
You laughed, nudging him down onto the couch and settling beside him. "Just open yours. I think you’ll like them."
He started with the tool roll, his rough hands carefully unwrapping the leather. He ran his fingers over it, a faint smile playing on his lips. "This… this is real nice," he muttered, a little shy. "I’ll definitely use it."
Next, he picked up the whiskey, letting out a low whistle as he looked at the label. "You got me the good stuff, huh? You spoil me," he said with a smirk, though there was a flicker of genuine appreciation in his eyes. But when he unwrapped the framed vintage map, he went completely silent, his fingers brushing over the contours of the familiar landscape.
"I figured… you could hang it in your office, or keep it somewhere special," you murmured, watching his face closely.
Logan swallowed, his gaze lingering on the map as if he were lost in the memories of those wild places. "This is… perfect," he whispered, his voice rough. "Thank you."
There was one gift left, and you hesitated for a moment before handing him the small wooden box. His brows knit together as he looked down at it, curiosity and something else—a softer emotion—flickering across his face. He lifted the lid and saw the bundle of letters, each one tied with care, each one addressed to a moment he might need a reminder of your love.
"For when you’re feeling… well, you know," you said softly, your fingers nervously fidgeting as you watched his reaction. "Each one is for a different time. I just… wanted you to know that I’m always here, even if I’m not right next to you."
Logan took a shaky breath, his gaze fixed on the box of letters. His jaw clenched as he fought to keep his expression steady, but you saw the glint of tears in his eyes. He lifted one of the letters, his fingers trembling slightly as he ran his thumb over your handwriting, the careful loops and lines you’d written with so much love.
"No one’s… no one’s ever done somethin’ like this for me," he said, his voice cracking. "I don’t… I don’t deserve this, or you." His voice was barely more than a whisper now, vulnerability laid bare in a way he rarely allowed.
You reached up, cradling his face with your hands, gently brushing a thumb over his cheek. "Logan… you’re wrong. You deserve so much more than you think." You smiled, the love in your eyes soft and steady. "You’re the best gift I could ever ask for. Just you… exactly as you are."
A tear slipped down his cheek, and he closed his eyes, leaning into your touch as if grounding himself in the warmth of your hands. Without another word, he pulled you into his arms, his embrace tight, almost desperate, like he was afraid to let go.
When he finally pulled back, his hand slid behind your neck, pulling you in for a kiss filled with every unspoken word he couldn’t quite say. His forehead rested against yours as he whispered, "I love you, sweetheart."
You smiled against his lips, pressing one last kiss to his mouth. "I love you, more. Merry Christmas, Logan."
After a long moment, Logan reluctantly pulled back, his gaze soft but intent as he reached for a small, neatly wrapped package on the coffee table. He handed it to you, looking almost… shy.
“Go on,” he murmured, clearing his throat and looking away, trying to cover up the faint blush creeping up his neck. “It’s… not much, but I thought you might like it.”
Curious, you tore off the wrapping paper, revealing a leather-bound book with intricate gold detailing on the cover. You sucked in a breath, your eyes widening as you ran your fingers over the title embossed in gold.
Pride and Prejudice. Not just any copy—this was a rare first edition.
“Logan…” you breathed, your voice a mixture of awe and disbelief. “How… how did you even find this?”
He shrugged, trying to play it off, but you could see the glint of pride in his eyes. “Got my ways,” he muttered, scratching the back of his neck. “Figured it’d mean somethin’ to you.”
Carefully, almost reverently, you opened the book, feeling the delicate weight of the pages between your fingers. But as you turned to the first few pages, something fluttered out—a piece of paper, folded neatly and tucked between them.
You glanced up at him, eyebrow raised. He shifted uncomfortably, looking down at his hands. “I, uh… slipped a little somethin’ in there,” he admitted, his voice barely above a grumble. “Wrote it myself. Might be rough around the edges, but… well, it’s for you.”
With trembling hands, you unfolded the paper, your heart racing as you read the words written in his unmistakable handwriting. It was a short poem, raw and unpolished, each line laced with sincerity.
Didn’t think I’d find somethin' that felt like home,
in the rasp of your laughter, in all the things left unsaid,
in the quiet that ain’t lonely ‘cause you’re in it.
Darlin’—you’re the reason I keep holdin’ on,
the reason a scarred heart like me starts thinkin'
he might be worth somethin' after all.
The words weren’t flowery or grand, but they were him—every line filled with honesty, with a depth he rarely shared. Your vision blurred as you read it again, the weight of his words sinking in.
“Logan…” you whispered, looking up at him, eyes glistening with tears. “This is… it’s beautiful.”
He rubbed the back of his neck, looking both relieved and embarrassed. “Didn’t think I’d hear that word used on anythin’ I wrote,” he muttered, the faintest hint of a smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “Figured you’d laugh it off.”
“Are you kidding?” you said, reaching over to take his hand, squeezing it tight. “It’s perfect. It’s you, and that means more to me than anything else in the world.”
His thumb brushed over your knuckles, his gaze holding yours. After a long, lingering silence, Logan reached behind the couch and pulled out one last gift, this one wrapped in old newspaper and tied with a bit of string. He handed it to you, his eyes a bit softer. 
“This one’s… well, it’s somethin’ I worked on myself,” he said, almost bashful. “Thought it might help you with… y’know, all that writin’ you do.”
Intrigued, you carefully unwrapped it, and as soon as you saw the vintage typewriter nestled inside, your breath hitched. The old keys gleamed, meticulously polished, and there was a faint scent of oil and leather from where he’d restored it with his own hands. Every piece, every detail, looked lovingly cared for.
“Oh my god, Logan…” you whispered, running your fingers over the smooth metal, feeling the weight of each key under your touch. “You… you did this yourself?”
He nodded, his gaze dropping to the floor. “Yeah. It was in pretty rough shape when I found it, but I thought… well, I thought you might like workin’ on somethin’ like this. Somethin’ that’d make all those stories you’re dreamin’ up feel a little more real.”
You stared at him, overwhelmed. He wasn’t just giving you a typewriter—he was giving you the chance to chase your dreams, to bring your words to life in a way that was uniquely yours.
Without another word, you leaned forward and wrapped your arms around him, pulling him close. “You… you have no idea how much this means to me,” you whispered, your voice choked with emotion.
His arms tightened around you, and for a long, tender moment, he just held you, his cheek resting against your hair. When he finally pulled back, there was a glisten in his eyes he didn’t even try to hide.
“Guess I did somethin’ right, huh?” he murmured, a hint of vulnerability in his voice as his thumb brushed across your cheek.
“You did everything right,” you replied, your smile soft and unwavering. Leaning in, you kissed him—slow, deep, pouring every ounce of love and gratitude you had into it.
When you pulled away, he rested his forehead against yours, his voice barely more than a whisper. “Merry Christmas, sweetheart. Couldn’t ask for a better one.”
You smiled, your hands still laced with his. "Here’s to all the Christmases to come," you whispered back.
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brookediamonds · 1 day ago
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piece by piece, he collected me up | Axel Kovačević x fem! reader
based off this request
summary: as sam's little sister you were always stuck in the shadow of her when it came to academics, karate, and love. when you were offered a scholarship to train in Hong Kong, you took the chance to venture out and create you're own legacy.
Wc: 2.8k warnings: daddy issues (kind of), none, fluff
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not my gif
It started when your sister showed interest in practicing karate again. You never gave up on the sport, karate was your outlet to the life around you.
Growing up, your older sister was always the one with the better grades, better friends, better relationship with your parents. She even had the better love life.
You loved your sister, but when she expressed wanting to join you in karate, you couldn't help but fake a smile and hold back your tears., ignoring the tightening in your chest. Now she would have the only little attention your dad paid to you.
At the last All Valley tournament when you and Miguel Diaz won in your divisions, there was a surprise second prize that came along with your 1st place trophy.
It was a scholarship to train in Hong Kong with the number one dojo in the entire world. Your parents were hesitant to let you go, but you had convinced them this was a once in a lifetime chance and it's all you could ever hope for.
So you went. You've spent the last two years learning and achieving a whole new level of fighting that you would never have imagined. The Iron Dragons had taught you endurance, discipline, and combat.
Sensei Wolf took a special liking towards you, you had come from a dense only mindset and with your years of experience, you gave his two star pupils, Zara and Axel, a run for their money.
The first few months were extremely hard and difficult to adjust to Sensei Wolf's lessons, but once Zara and Axel got to know you, they finally understood your intentions and no longer saw you as a threat.
Zara showed you mercy after overhearing a call between you and Sam. Your sister was ecstatic her and Miguel had reconnected and that they had kept The All Valley up and going.
Your teammate knew what it was like to live in the shadows of others, it was why she always wanted to be the best. She took you under her wing and broke down the soft side in you, using your defensive moves mix in with your new offense.
And when she caught you checking out the tall blue eyed boy a few times after practice, she made it her life's mission to make sure you and Axel ended up together.
Which you did.
Fast forward to the present, you and Axel had just finished watching a movie at a local theater, and sat together at an ice cream shop enjoying a mint chocolate chip cone.
"You're hogging it," you pout at your boyfriend who held the frozen treat up to his lips.
"It is your fault you make me like this," Axel grins taking another lick of the green substance. You rolled your eyes with a small smile knowing you had indeed introduced him to sweets.
He handed you the cone using his now free hand to wrap an arm around the back of your seat and leaned back, softly running his fingers through your loose hair.
As you and Axel began talking about the movie you saw, your phone suddenly lit up with Sam's face indicating she was FaceTiming you.
With the time zone differences, it was hard to call your family so anytime they reached out, you took the call.
"I'll be right back," you say handing your ice cream cone to the boy next to you. "Don't finish it!"
"I can not promise that," he says making you shove him playfully. Grabbing your phone, you walk over to a secluded corner in the shop and answer the call.
"Hey Sammy," you smile at your sister. She has her phone propped up on her vanity as she did her make up, her pink romper letting you know she was getting ready to go out for the night.
"(Y/n)!" She squeals setting her palette down. "Did you like the movie?"
"Yeah it was actually-"
"I have some exciting news!" Your hyperactive sibling cuts you off. "Miyagi-Do qualified for the Sekai Taikai!"
Your smile fell instantly at her announcement. They were going to Barcelona?
"Oh, that's great!" You put on an enthusiastic attitude. "Dad must be so excited."
"He is! In fact," Sam picked her phone up. "We were brainstorming and thinking we should save you a spot on our team-"
"What?" You cut her off flabbergasted at what she was implying. "You're not saying you want me to join Miyagi-Do for the tournament right?"
She goes quiet, her eyes searching the screen to see you looking back at her annoyed.
"Well, yeah, with you we'd be an unbeatable team," she says. She's looking at you with anticipation, hoping you'll drop the dojo you've grown at.
"No," you respond flatly.
"No?" Sam repeats furrowing her eyebrows in confusion. You licked your lips stating your ground.
"Don't hold a spot for me," you discourage their idea. "Congratulations on making it to the tournament, but you guys did it without me, you can do it again."
Sam is quick to rebuttal and beg you to reconsider but you didn't even entertain the idea of joining them.
"I have to go, but we'll talk later, I love you," you hang up hastily, and hold your phone to your chest.
You couldn't believe the proposition you just heard. You worked your ass to get to where you were, and once again it's being taken from you.
Sauntering back to your table, Axel sat in the same seat waiting for you with a new cone.
"I ate your ice cream so I got new one," he says cutely cracking a smile on your face.
"Thank you," you exhale plopping down next to him. Axel is quick to notice your change in mood, the way you sighed and leaned your head on his shoulder let him know something is wrong.
"How is your sister?" He asks rubbing the side of your arm soothingly.
You pondered if you should tell him about your family's idea, not wanting to give him to think you'd consider switching sides.
"She's good..." you trail off nibbling at your dessert. You feel Axel staring at the side of your face, he brings his hand up to tuck your hair behind your ear making you look over at him.
"What is bothering you, my love?" He asks sweetly his low voice making your stomach turn. He knew you all too well.
"Their dojo is going to the Sekai Taikai," you say bummed out. "I love my family, but I wanted just this one thing to myself."
Axel nods, placing his hand over your free one sitting on the table.
"Selfish, I know," you acknowledge avoiding his gaze, finishing off your cone.
"You are anything but selfish," Axel corrects you. "Do not make self small because family over looks you."
"Oh they see me alright," you snort placing your elbow on the table, leaning your head in your hand. "They want me to join them for the tournament."
"Are you going to?" He quizzes you.
"Absolutely not," you shook your head. "You're stuck with me, Kovačević."
The Croatian boy chuckled, relieved you would stay with the team that's taken you in. Axel knew how you had to fight for you father's attention and how much you so badly wanted his approval in life.
Especially in karate.
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The next few months had flown by, you had trained everyday for hours on end working with Axel and Zara to sharpen your instincts, and skills.
Sensei Wolf had also selected you to be his captain for the girls division to which Zara had praised you on. You'll never forget what she told you that day:
"It's not about where you started, it's about where you finish. This isn't about proving them wrong about your abilities. This is about proving to yourself that you belong here."
It was finally time for the Sekai Taikai, you walked proudly with your green uniform, and white captain's head band tied around your head.
When you came face to face with the people you hadn't seen in over two years, it felt like no time had passed. You resisted the urge to drop your cold demeanor and run across the matt to embrace your dad and sister.
Regardless of your history, you still missed them.
It was when all teams were required to attend the aquarium, you were able to talk to Sam.
"Hey little sis," Sam greets you when your team enters the aquatic building. She's quick to envelope you in a hug, almost knocking you back.
"Hey," you smile softly accepting her affection.
"You look amazing!" she pulls back from you, examining you head to toe. One thing you always loved about Sam; she never had a bad thing to say about you.
"So do you," you return the compliment.
"(Y/n)!" Miguel and Robby approach you both.
The last time you had seen the two boys, Miguel had just won the All Valley and Robby began training again with your dad.
"Hey, big brothers," you teased them, greeting both with a hug. When Sam had told you their parents were expecting together, you laughed at the irony of the whole situation.
"You look good," Robby commented his green eyes scanning over you.
"I said that!" Sam agreed giddly, elbowing him.
"What kind of workouts do they have you doing over there?" Miguel asked faking suspicion.
Rolling your eyes at their remarks, you crossed your arms over your chest.
"Where's your boyfriend? I wanna meet him!" Sam inquires exciting at meeting your first ever love interest.
"You have a boyfriend?" Robby reiterates.
"Don't sound so surprised," you respond sarcastically.
"No- I just mean you never showed interest in anyone back home, I thought you were a lone wolf kind of girl," he attempts to lighten the situation.
"Right," you said narrowing your eyes. Looking around for an auburn haired boy, you spot Axel standing along with Zara on the side.
He catches your eyes on him, making you wave him down. Zara follows along with him, wanting to meet your old team as well.
"Guys, this is my boyfriend Axel," you gesture to the tall Croatian boy next to you, "and this is my friend, well teammate, Zara."
"Hey," Miguel and Robby nod at your two teammates giving them a closed mouth smile.
"This is Sam, Miguel, and Robby," you introduce your home people to your new people.
"Hi," Zara says with a small grin, eyes never leaving Robby's making you chuckle.
"(Y/n)'s talked so much about you," Sam says to Axel. "I'm glad we could all finally meet."
"Yes, and especially before competition," Axel says smoothly making you shake your head.
"So who are your captains?" Zara spoke up wanting to get on the topic of the tournament.
"Robby and I are the captains," Sam smiles. You couldn't control the way your eyebrows lifted up in surprise, you really thought Miguel would be wearing the white headband.
"Don't look so surprised," Robby throws back at you playfully.
"What about you guys?" Miguels questions.
"Me and her," Axel smirks pulling you into him by your hip.
"Wow," your sister blinks, her voice slightly nervous. "That's great!"
"She earned it," Zara says a hint of smugness behind her voice. She wanted to make sure your old team knew they were in for a challenge.
Before anyone could say anything else, the teams are called forward so pictures can be taken.
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The first day of the tournament was a breeze. For your team of course. This wasn't your first Sekai Taikai, you had gone with the Iron Dragons last year and won first place.
Miyagi-Do however, struggled.
You’d never forget the look of shock on their faces when it came down to The Iron Dragons and Cobra Kai during the 'Captain's War' event.
You and Axel made Kwon and Tory look defenseless by how fast you took them down together. From the way Sam had described you, Tory was expecting a petite off balance fighter when in reality you moved with grace and packed a punch with every hit.
When your eyes met your dad's you saw a look of fright. It almost made you upset, because if you won would he have the same look instead of being happy for you?
Looking down at an awe-struck Tory, you introduce yourself.
"Nice to officially meet you," you smirk down at her. "Welcome to Barcelona."
From the corner of your eye, you see Sam and Miguel share a look of concern with each other. They had no idea what they were in for.
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Your team was dominating the tournament, The Iron Dragons had remained in 1st place through out the next few days. Luckily, you didn't match up with Miyagi-Do.
Until now.
It was the tag-team event, if they lost they would go against Cobra Kai who lost their 1st round.
"How are you feeling?" Axel questions you as the two of you warmed up together.
"Like I'm ready to kick ass," you respond confidently.
"That's my girl," he grins walking up to you. As the two of you share a sweet kiss, you suddenly hear someone coughing behind you.
Your dad stood behind you, a stern look on his face.
"Is this the Axel, you've been talking about?" Your dad approaches you slowly.
"In the flesh," you grin looking up at your tall beau. Axel stood wearily, unsure how to feel about meeting your dad.
He knew the issues you had developed from lack of attention from your dad, it made him just a little bitter inside because you were sweet like candy and tough as nails when it came to fighting, you should be the center of his universe.
"Nice to meet you, I'm Daniel LaRusso," your dad extends his hand for Axel. Your boyfriend takes his hand, shaking it firmly.
"Axel," he says shortly nodding his head. "Good to meet you."
"Thank you for taking care of my girl here," your dad runs a hand over the back of your head, smiling down at you.
"It is an honor," Axel states making you blush. "But if I am being honest, she takes care of me."
Before you, Axel didn't see a day of relaxation or know what the taste of your favorite ice cream was. He trained, went to school, slept, repeat.
You taught him the balance of life and karate. He had never known what it was to have fun and enjoy the small things in life before you came along.
He was forever grateful you were sent to him.
"Well, I just thought I'd come over here to meet your guy, and to wish you luck," your dad said turning to you.
"And to you," you wish him as well.
"Don't hold back on us out there," your dad jokes.
"We won't," you promise, a smile decorated on your face.
Your dad sends you the bow of respect to which you and Axel both reciprocate.
"Still feeling good?" Axel turns to you as you watch your dad walk over to your sister. They both glance your way making you grumble.
"Oh yeah," you nod feeling that fire light beneath your feet. "I'm ready."
Both teams lined up in the taped circle, the ref standing outside of it to watch for points.
Axel was first to stand in the ring, Hawk going up against him first. Hawk attacked first, Axel easily blocking his kicks and landing a point when he struck him behind his head.
"Shit," you hear Johnny mutter.
As you discussed, Axel tagged Zara in, leaving you last as the element of surprise.
Demetri was tagged next, making you scoff. Zara ate kids like him for lunch. She does it swiftly, and quickly, Demetri is taken by surprise by her aggressive approach, unable to block her punch to his chest.
As the skinny lanky boy tagged your sister in, Zara walked over to you slapping your hand.
"It's your time now," she says looking directly at you before stepping in your place next to Axel.
You're nervous, swallowing the lump in the back of your throat. You hadn't sparred with Sam in over seven years, much less fought.
"Aggressive, LaRusso!" Johnny yells, making your eyes narrow.
You could be aggressive too.
Sam comes at you, thinking you'd defend the way you were taught, but you block her kick with both arms and push back, making her stumble on to the ground.
She stares up at you wide eyed, and stands up before you can move towards her. This time you came at her. She blocked off your two kicks, but while her arms were up you took the opportunity to fall on one knee and kick her side earning your team the last and final point.
"Point! The Iron Dragons win 3 to 0!"
Your dojo surrounds you patting your back and chanting excitedly, Axel lifting you off the ground to twirl you around in his arms. Laughing, he sets you back down, a giant smile on your face at your victory.
"Congratulations," your dad's voice pops up from behind you.
You turn to face him, Sam standing by his side a look of uneasiness on her.
"Thanks," you respond unsure if you were allowed to spread your happiness about the face that you had won.
"You did great out there," Sam acknowledges, genuinely speaking. "You're gonna win this tournament."
"Think so?" You ask hope lingering in your voice.
"I know so," she confirms giving you a small smile. The both of you fall into step, wrapping each other up in a hug.
Regardless of how this ended, you knew Sam would always be in your corner.
Your sister walks away, leaving you and your dad alone.
"You've grown into such an amazing fighter, (Y/n)," your dad breathes out. "I can't even comprehend what I've seen from you these last few days. Mr. Miyagi would be proud."
Your mouth fell open at his words. To bring up his mentor and say that even his idol would approve of you? It hit home.
"Thank you, dad," you whimper, tears gathering in your eyes. "That means a lot."
"I was worried about you moving away from us, but I see how happy you are here, with them," your dad motions to the people behind you. "They really look out for you."
Twisting your head, you see Axel and Zara looking over at you making your smile fondly at your friend and boyfriend.
"Just don't forget about your other family, me, mom, Sam, and Anthony," your old sensei reminds you. "We'll be there when you're ready to come back to us."
You nod understanding that even though you may have felt left out for so long, you were still his daughter. He still worried about his 2nd born, that went across the world from him and thinks about you and your well being everyday.
You had the text and voicemails to prove it.
"I know, dad," you respond softly. He pulls you in his arms, hugging you tightly like the night before you left on the airplane that took you to Hong Kong.
"And this Axel kid better treat you right, or else," your dad warns you.
You laugh pulling away from him.
"He's a perfect gentlemen," you attempt to comfort your parent. "He also knows I can kick his ass if he isn't."
"That's definetly true," your dad chuckles.
After you and your dad say your goodbyes for the day, you head over to your boyfriend.
"Everything go okay?" Axel asks concerned they may have been upset of their loss.
"Better than okay," you assure your co-captain. He lets out a sigh of relief at your relaxed demeanor, letting him know you were fine.
You reached for his hands, intertwining your fingers together.
"Thank you for looking out for me," you say staring up at the blue eye boy adoringly. Axel can't help but step forward coming chest to chest with you.
"I will always do my best to look out for you," he states before leaning down to capture your lips with his.
Your heart melts in you chest at his words, the love continuing to grown for the man that held you high on his list of priorities.
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(a/n: i hope this was okay, and that there was was enough axel x reader idk i don't feel this was my best. i have more request im working on, so more coming! i think i really wanted to dive deep into the reader!larusso part so i took my time in that department.)
(ps. sam better not get any hate on this post, she is my favorite character in the series, don't pmo.)
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ferrari55lover · 2 days ago
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Rivalry and Reverie- Ollie Bearman X driver girlfriend
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*WARNINGS*- Smut, fluff, MINORS DNI
Last year Ollie Bearman was crowned formula 2 champion, this was a life changing achievement for him not just because it was his dream but because it lead him to her, Y/N L/N the girl of his dreams. At first ollie thought that it would never work between them, they were racing against each other how could it ever work between them, But boy was he wrong. A year had passed since they first got together, and everything between them was perfect. Everyday they fell more and more in love. they continued to race against each other and were both involved in a lengthy and violent title fight one that ended in Y/N winning the title and an offer to race for McLaren in the 2025 season Ollie was unbelievably proud of her but he also felt kind of sad that they wouldn't be racing against each other anymore. That was until ollie got offered to race for Haas this made him extremely happy, sure it wasn't as good as a team as McLaren of Ferrari but it was still formula one.
*fast forward to the first race of the formula one season*
Today was the day, the day that Ollie and Y/N would fulfil their life long dreams of racing in formula one, it was a few hours before the race and Y/N and Ollie were sitting sharing a meal together in McLaren hospitality. "so are you ready for me to beat your ass" Y/N asked, this blunt statement made ollie laugh and say "hey its not my fault you have a better car" Y/N laughed in response and said "Your right, but still". a little while later they were both in their separate team garages getting ready for the race ahead. they got into their cars started their engines and completed the formation lap. Ollie was starting from P6 and Y/N was starting from P3 They started the race and slowly Y/N was climbing her way to P1 and by the end of the race she had managed to keep that position winning her very first race in formula one. After the race
The roar of the crowd was deafening as Y/N crossed the finish line, her name lighting up the leaderboard in P1. She could barely believe it—her very first Formula 1 race, and she had won. Over the team radio, the cheers of her engineers filled her ears. "Y/N, you're incredible! P1 in your debut! What a way to start the season!"
Her grin stretched wide beneath her helmet as she waved to the crowd during the cooldown lap. Pulling into parc fermé, she jumped out of her car and was immediately swarmed by her team, celebrating the monumental victory.
Ollie had finished in a respectable P5, scoring solid points for Haas. He parked his car and climbed out, making his way toward Y/N. Despite his own result, all he could think about was how proud he was of her.
As Y/N completed her media duties and the podium ceremony, she caught sight of Ollie waiting near the McLaren garage. His arms were crossed, but the broad smile on his face gave away how happy he was. When she finally reached him, she barely had time to say a word before he scooped her up in a tight hug, spinning her around.
“You’re unbelievable,” Ollie said, his voice filled with awe. “P1 on your debut? That’s insane!”
Y/N laughed as Ollie set her back down on her feet, her cheeks still flushed from the excitement of the day. “I still can’t believe it,” she admitted. “It feels like I’m dreaming.”
“Well, if this is a dream, then I don’t want to wake up,” Ollie said, his gaze softening as he looked at her.
She smiled, squeezing his hand. “You did great too, Ollie. P5 in a Haas? That’s impressive. You’re going to be fighting at the top in no time.”
He chuckled, shrugging modestly. “We’ll see. But today isn’t about me—it’s your moment, and you deserve every bit of it.”
The rest of the evening passed in a whirlwind of celebrations. Y/N basked in the glow of her victory, surrounded by her team, fellow drivers, and the endless flash of cameras. But through it all, her eyes kept drifting back to Ollie. No matter how many people congratulated her, he was the one she wanted to share this moment with the most.
Later that night, after the festivities had finally wound down, Y/N and Ollie found themselves back at the hotel. The hallway was quiet, a stark contrast to the roaring crowds and bustling paddock they’d left behind.
Y/N unlocked the door to her room and stepped inside, kicking off her shoes with a sigh. “What a day,” she said, turning to face Ollie, who had followed her in.
He closed the door behind him and leaned against it, his eyes fixed on her. “What a day,” he echoed, a small smile playing on his lips.
She walked over to him, her steps slow and deliberate. “Thank you for being there,” she said softly. “It means the world to me.”
Ollie reached out, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “I wouldn’t have missed it for anything. Seeing you up there, standing on that podium… I’ve never been prouder.”
Her breath hitched as she looked up at him, the weight of his words settling over her. “You’re making it hard to focus on anything but you right now,” she whispered.
Ollie’s smile widened as he cupped her face in his hands. “Maybe that’s the point.”
She laughed softly, but the sound was quickly silenced as his lips met hers. The kiss was slow and deliberate, filled with the unspoken emotions that had been building all day. Her hands found their way to his shoulders, pulling him closer, Ollie slowly walks them both backwards the back of her knees hit the edge of the bed and she lays on the bed and ollie lays on top of her, they continue to kiss passionately, then ollie breaks the kiss looks at Y/N and asks "Are you sure" Y/N nods and says "yes" ollie then kisses her again his hands slowly traveling down her body, eventually they find themselves in their underwear Y/N wearing a black and red lacy set one that looks very similar to ollies team colors Ollie notices this and says
Ollie paused for a moment, his eyes trailing over her with a soft smile. “Did you plan this?” he teased, running his fingers along the delicate lace of her bra.
Y/N bit her lip, a playful glint in her eyes. “Maybe. You like it?”
“Like it? You’re driving me crazy,” he murmured, his voice husky. He leaned down, his lips brushing against hers again, his touch tender yet electrifying.
Y/N's heart raced as Ollie's kisses traveled lower. He reached the edge of her lacy garment, his calloused fingers tracing the lace with a reverent touch. His voice was a rough whisper against her skin. "You’re so beautiful, you know that?"
Her breath hitched at his words, her chest rising and falling with quickened breaths. She met his gaze, her eyes dark with desire. Her fingers gently tugged at his own underwear, a silent invitation. "I want you," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper.
Those three little words hit Ollie like a freight train, igniting a fire within him. He had been holding back, trying to be considerate, but hearing her say those words was all the encouragement he needed. With a low growl, he claimed her mouth in a fierce kiss, his hand tangling in her hair.
Their bodies pressed together, skin against skin, both desperate to feel more of each other. He moved lower, his kisses now hot and hungry as his lips traveled down her chest, pausing briefly to pay attention to each curve and contour. She let out a soft moan, her hips arching towards him in response.
He continued his journey down her body, his hands roaming over her skin, tracing every dip and curve. When he finally reached the edge of her lacy underwear, he slowed his movements, his eyes meeting hers once more.
She bit her lip, her chest rising and falling with each shaky breath. "Please, Ollie," she whispered, her voice laced with need.
His own breathing was erratic now, his body taut with desire. The pleading tone of her voice was almost too much to bear. With one swift motion, he hooked his thumbs into the waistband of her underwear and slowly began to pull them down, his gaze never leaving hers.
As her underwear slipped off, he took a moment to appreciate the sight before him. Her body was a canvas of smooth, supple skin, the lace of her bra the only piece of clothing remaining. He leaned down, his lips caressing her hip, his touch gentle yet possessive.
She shivered, the sensation sending shivers down her spine. Her hands gripped the sheets, her knuckles turning white as she fought to keep herself grounded. He continued his path, leaving a trail of kisses along her inner thigh.
Her body ached for him, every fiber of her being crying out for more. "Ollie," she gasped, her voice thick with wanting, "Don't tease me. Please."
The plea in her voice was like music to his ears, and he couldn't resist any longer. He moved back up her body, positioning himself above her, his arms braced on either side of her head. He looked down at her, his eyes dark with want and need.
"Tell me what you want, love," he murmured, his voice rough.
Her eyes met his, her gaze just as intense as his. "You," she said, her voice soft but firm. "I want you, Ollie. All of you."
He didn’t need to hear anything more. With a low groan, he captured her lips in a passionate kiss, his body pressing down upon hers, their hips meeting in a perfect fit.
She wrapped her legs around him, pulling him closer, her body molding to his. Their kisses grew more urgent, more intense, as their hands began to roam, exploring every inch of each other. Every touch, every caress stoked the fire burning between them, driving them closer and closer to the edge.
Ollie's hands tangled in her hair, his mouth never leaving hers, his tongue exploring every inch of her, claiming her as his own. His hips moved against hers in a slow, deliberate rhythm, their breathing ragged and uneven.
The room was filled with the sounds of their panting breaths and soft moans; the air thick with the electricity of their desire. She ran her hands over his back, feeling the muscles tense and ripple under her touch, while he traced kisses along her neck and collarbone, his lips hungry against her skin.
The heat between them was almost unbearable, the room filling with a thick, sultry air. They moved together, their bodies writhing against each other, seeking release from the mounting tension. She clutched him tightly, burying her face in his shoulder, her nails digging into his skin "Ollie im... im" Y/N stutters out before ollie says "Y/N Shhh.. i know me too" he says grunting as they both release he can feel her clenching around him as she moans his name
a few moments later after they've both taken a moment to cool down from the heat of the prior moments. they're lying next to each other in a comfortable silence their limbs intertwined, Ollie is the first to break the silence saying "I love you Y/N" he brushes a stray piece of hair behind her ear and she says "I love you too Ollie".
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writeforfandoms · 2 days ago
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Christmas Is Coming
Last fic for the event! Title is from A Charlie Brown Christmas. Again. Still on theme!
For today's entry for Call of Duty Black Ops Winter Fest 2024 hosted by the wonderful @efingcod
Today's theme is cooking together! Baking counts, of course.
Frank Woods x f!reader
Word count: 1k
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“How many things are you making?” Frank asked, eyeing the kitchen with some trepidation. 
“Just the usual,” you said, looking at the ingredients on the counter. “Fudge, of course, and a few different types of cookies.” 
Frank shook his head slowly, looking a little overwhelmed. “This is the usual? You do this every year?” 
“Well, yeah.” You glanced back at him, a little confused. 
He blew out a breath and shook his head, walking up to you to kiss the top of your head. “What do you need?”
You beamed at him. “You don't need to help if you don't want to. I'm used to doing this on my own.” 
“Yeah, well, I'm here now,” he grunted. “So tell me what to do.” 
You couldn't help but smile. “Wash up and then start opening things for me,” you decided. “Like the evaporated milk.” 
Frank started wordlessly, moving around you in the kitchen. It was a little tight with the two of you, but it was nice, too. You hadn’t spent a lot of time cooking with someone before. In fact, you were more prone to pushing people out of the kitchen while you cooked. But Frank… Frank was different. 
The two of you were comfortable together, in a way you'd never been with anyone else. You didn't mind him in your kitchen. 
Frank turned on the radio after a few minutes, moving aside to watch you work. You hummed along as you stirred cookie batter together, pausing to add more chocolate chips before you continued. When you finally finished and paused to glance at him, Frank was still watching you, one hand under his chin, gaze soft. 
You paused, blinking at him. 
“Don't mind me,” he rumbled, lips twitching in amusement. “Go on.” 
You huffed, amused and a little embarrassed, but kept working. It didn't take long to get the cookies in the oven, and you set the timer with a satisfied hum. 
Big hands settled at your hips from behind, making you jump a little.  
“Have I told you how gorgeous you are like this?” Frank asked, dipping his head to speak in your ear. 
You shivered, tipping your head to look at him out of the corner of your eye. “You haven't,” you murmured, shoulders relaxing as you leaned back into him ever so slightly. 
“You are.” Frank pressed a kiss to the side of your neck, hands squeezing at your hips gently. 
“Might have to bake around you more often,” you mused, hands settling over his, fingertips stroking over scarred and calloused skin. “If it gets this kind of reaction out of you.” 
Frank hummed a soft note against your skin, lips gentle and facial hair a little bristly. “I like seeing you comfortable and competent,” he murmured. 
“That so?” You tipped your head all the way back against his shoulder. “I'll remember that.” 
“Good.” Frank kissed the side of your neck again, hands squeezing your hips. 
The timer beeped a one minute warning, and you pouted briefly. You didn't want to leave the warmth and comfort of his arms. But you had to, or the cookies would burn. 
“Frank.” You tapped his hands.
“No.” He nipped the back of your shoulder, sending a thrill down your spine. 
“I need to take the cookies out and get the next thing going.” 
Frank sighed, louder than he really meant, breath warming your skin. You and he both knew the sigh was for show, rather than real upset. He released you with one last squeeze just as the timer went off. 
You got the cookies out and swapped a new baking sheet in, setting the timer again. 
“Since you seem to have energy to burn, want to help me with the fudge?” You raised one eyebrow at Frank. 
He looked dubious, brows furrowing at you even as he drummed his fingers against the counter. “You have seen me cook,” he pointed out. 
“Don't worry, this is easy, and I'll be helping. You just have to stir.” 
He considered for a few moments longer before he shrugged. “Yeah, alright.” 
As promised, you helped Frank, adding the ingredients at the right time. This recipe really wasn't difficult, but it did require a lot of stirring. 
“Okay,” you said, pleased with how the fudge looked so far. “Now you stir for five minutes.”
“Straight?” Frank shot a brief, betrayed look at you. 
“It's not that bad,” you dismissed. “This is the longest part and then we just add the last couple things and it's done! You can make it.” 
Frank heaved a sigh but stirred diligently nonetheless. You smiled to yourself and opened up the bag of chocolate in preparation. 
By three minutes, Frank was frowning down at the fudge. By four, he was swearing softly under his breath. By the five minute mark, you took pity on him and took over stirring so he could pour in the chocolate chips. 
“Not as easy as it looks,” you told him with a little grin. “It gets easier with time but I always struggle with the fudge. I just don't make it often enough to get used to stirring for five minutes.” 
He huffed. “It's a lot of stirring,” he grumbled. 
“With delicious results,” you pointed out. “Add the marshmallow fluff now, please.” 
“Now it looks more like fudge,” he observed as you mixed in the marshmallow fluff. 
“Yup. It still has to cool, that takes a while. But you can lick the pan, after it cools off a bit.” 
Frank muttered something about licking, which you ignored only because you still had more cookies to make. 
He did take the excuse to get back out of the kitchen, though, apparently happier to watch you work than be put to work himself. Which worked fine for you. You hummed to yourself as you switched out cookie trays, filling Tupperware containers and baggies. Every time you checked on him, Frank seemed just fine, watching you with a tiny smile twitching the corners of his lips. 
“Finally done?” Frank asked when you turned off the oven, the hum of the fan comfortable background noise. 
“Yeah.” You brushed your hands together to dust the flour and bits off. 
“Good.” Frank stood, rounding the counter to pull you into him. “My turn.” 
You blinked, momentarily confused, until he guided you back out of the kitchen, hands firm and steady on your hips. 
He kicked the bedroom door closed behind the two of you, and you smiled. 
His turn indeed. 
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revasserium · 5 months ago
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beloved - Tsukishima and being soft for you and only you
prompt list reqs are: temporarily closed
beloved
tsukishima; 1,787 words; fluff, established relationship, no "y/n", soft!tsukki, kissing and banter, tsukki being... tsukki
summary: 5 times tsukki is soft just for you and 1 time when he doesn't care that everyone else can see
a/n: this is an ancient req but... welp, here we are! u__u
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01.
in the middle of the night, his eyes still marred by sleep and the lack of glasses, when the world is a watercolor haze of shapes and softness — he feels you tug away from where you’d been curled up against his chest, shifting under the blankets. he groans and tries to pull you back.
“kei… what’re you doing?”
“don’t go… i was warm.”
there’s a whine in his voice you’re certain he’s never let anyone else hear before, no one other than you and the silent, watchful moon, swinging low in the mid-autumn night.
“i’ll be right back — i need to pee!”
“well pee quick,” he says, voice gravely from sleep as he shoves his face back into his pillows and tries not to mourn the you-shaped emptiness in the bed next to him. he wonders briefly how he’d lived so many years, slept so many nights just by himself in this bed, his body and no one else’s to keep him warm.
he counts backwards from twenty, knowing that by the time he gets to about seven or six, you’ll be crawling back under the blankets, nuzzling into his side. he gets to eight, seven, six —
“there, see?” you shimmy back into his arms and he sighs a sigh that could be misconstrued as exasperated. but you know him well enough (and he knows you do) to know it’s nothing short of absolute contentment.
“mm. sleep,” is his only mumbled reply as he once again buries his face into the soft bend of your neck and breathes.
02.
out shopping, even though he’d made such a fuss about not wanting to go, about how it’s nothing more than a pointless endeavor and only contributing to the economic monster that is capitalism — but the way you press a sundress to your front in front of a full length mirror, the light in your eyes, the bright smile on your lips — it stirs something inside him. it inspires quiet; it inspires… admiration.
you spin around, laughing, clearly delighted to have caught him staring.
“what do you think? does it look good?”
tsukishima purses his lips, schooling his expression back into a frown as he scoffs and casts his eyes up towards the ceiling.
“’s all the same to me.”
“aw… c’mon, you don’t mean that,” you say, twisting back around to tug at the dress, contemplating if it’s worth trying on.
“sure it is. i mean — i’d like you in whatever, so.”
and silently, he thinks that the way you blush at his words is worth the trip… and all the bags he has to carry along the way.
03.
over strawberry shortcake, with two steaming caramel lattes — you humming happily to yourself as you snap one picture after another of the delicious-looking assortment.
“camera eats first!” you declare, snapping your phone shut and reaching out to pick up a fork. you pause over the petal-pink of the shortcake, decorated with three glistening strawberries, the soft white cream light as clouds.
you bite your lips, “ah… it looks almost too good to eat!”
at this, tsukishima sighs, reaching out to stab straight through a strawberry, despite your squeak of indignation and alarm. he wordlessly presses the strawberry to your lips, smirking to himself as he watches the buttercream smear across your mouth before you have the sense to open it and take a bite.
“mm! it’s good!”
“hn. i’d hope so — it was 2,000 yen.”
tsukishima scopes another bite for himself before pausing, his eyes caught on the languid sweep of your tongue across your lips as you try to catch the remaining cream. and, thoughtlessly, almost as if driven by nothing more than instinct and that strange, animal magnetism, he leans forward to swipe a thumb across your lips, pressing the excess into your mouth.
slowly, you close your mouth around his thumb, and he feels the slight pressure of your tongue against his skin. he swallows; you suck, letting his thumb go with a slip pop that leaves tension swelling in his chest like an overfilled balloon.
later, caught just outside the cafe, with his fingers curling into your hair, tilting your head up to meet his — tsukishima thinks that there are some things, perhaps like the strawberry shortcake, too lovely to devour. and then — there are some things, perhaps like your lips, entirely too lovely not to.
04.
after practice, when the moon hangs heavy in the mid-summer sky and the cicadas are singing loud enough to shake loose the stars — tsukishima leans back against your legs, his head falling into your lap as you reach down to slip off his glasses.
“so… how was the training camp?” you ask, tracing your index finger along the high bridge of his nose.
“tiring. the little orange dolt thought it’d be a good idea to break in —”
“break… in?”
“yeah, he just showed up and — i dunno — prayed that no one would notice that he wasn’t invited. idiot.”
your laughter is summer-sweet and full-bellied, and it has you tipping back on your couch with your fingers still tangled in tsukishima’s slightly shower-damp hair.
“it’s — it’s not funny!” tsukishima twists around, frowning hard enough for you to burst into another fit of giggles, reaching forward to run your thumbs along the ridges between his furrowed eyebrows.
“i mean… i think it’s pretty hilarious. that takes balls, doesn’t it?”
tsukishima huffs, swiveling back around, shoulders hunched as he grabs for the remote and clicks on the tv, switching through channels at light-speed. his glasses lay forgotten on the sofa next to you.
“or he’s just too stupid to think about the consequences.”
you reach forward with an indulgent smile, looping your arms around his wide shoulders.
“oh, c’mon… cut him some slack. not everyone can be as tall, handsome, and talented as you are, right?” you say, nuzzling into his cheek even as he swats half-heartedly at you.
“quit it.”
you giggle, hugging him all the tighter until he spins around, pinning your wrists above your head with a speed not usually associated with someone of his height. he hovers over you, his head cocked to one side.
“oh yeah? and what’re you gonna do for your tall, handsome, talented boyfriend to make him feel better after such a stressful day at camp, hm?”
you hiccup, lashes fluttering as he bears down over you.
“i — ts-tsukki —!”
“hn. wrong answer — two more chances.”
you press your lips and glare at him with what you hope is a reproachful air. tsukishima only smirks, shaking his head even as he bends down to press into your space, your chests pressed, his body covering yours and then some. his lips brush the lobe of your ear and he revels in the way you shiver.
“fine line between stupidity and courage, i’d say… don’t you agree?”
05.
before the game with shiratorizawa, with his brand new glasses, and his head bowed low.
“don’t be scared,” you say, reaching down to link his fingers with yours. they’re so long, so strong. the palms peppered with calluses.
tsukishima scoffs, “i’m not scared.”
you smile, rocking up onto your very tip toes to press a chaste kiss to his lips. luckily, tucked behind a large column, around the corner to a deserted corridor, no one is there to see.
“you’re not a very good liar,” you say, falling back onto your heels, peering up at him as he stares down at you with slightly narrowed eyes. then, he bends forward to trap you against the column, his breath hot along your lips.
“and you’re gonna make me late for warmups.”
he pulls back at the last second, leaving you breathless. but the smile that dangles from his lips is less sanctimonious than usual. he reaches up and flicks at your forehead when you make no move to follow him.
“i’m not scared, i’m nervous. but… i guess seeing you in the stands would make that a bit better.”
you bite down on your bottom lip, linking your hands behind your back.
“well then, what are we waiting for?”
06.
after the shiratorizawa match, when everyone is still running high on adrenaline, puffy-eyed with happiness, you bound down to meet him, skidding to a halt just outside the giant gymnasium doors. there are bandages on his fingers and sweat dripping down the tip of his nose.
his cheeks are pink with exhaustion, but his eyes are clear and bright and wanting.
“guess you didn’t have any reason to be nervous after all,” you say, trotting up to meet him as the rest of the team parts around the pair of you like water around a river rock. yamaguchi glances over his shoulder even as he herds hinata and kageyama away, the pair bickering over this or that.
tsukishima crinkles his nose, but his eyes narrow at the sight of the redness beneath your eyes. he reaches up his uninjured hand to trace along the dried tear-tracks along your cheeks.
“what’re you crying for?”
you sniffle, shooting him a glare.
“just because you weren’t scared doesn’t mean i wasn’t either — but you won — so that’s all that —”
he quiets you down with a kiss, standing there, in the open gymnasium hallways, the chattering of hundreds of students ebbing around you both. distantly, you can swear you hear tanaka whoop, only to be cut short by what sounds like sugawara smacking him painfully upside the head.
tsukishima frowns as he pulls back, “y’know… i’d prefer if your mind wasn’t on other things when i kissed you.”
“wh-what — i wasn’t —”
his lips thin into his trademark smirk as he tugs your chin towards him with two fingers, his hold more gentle than it looks.
“hm… seems like you’re not a very good liar either but… guess i don’t really mind that much.”
your retort dies on your lips as he leans down again, and this time, you don’t think about how the pair of you are still standing in the middle of a very visible hallway, how people are probably starting to stop and stare.
this time, you kiss him back like nothing else matters in the world except for his lips and how perfectly soft they are on yours.
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jackfrostimposter · 3 months ago
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genuinely why is there so much misinformation about the guardians of childhood book series?
#Lemme be a toxic fan for a moment bc im so tired and stressed and i need to yell my silly fandom frustrations out to the void#The people saying Jack is fourteen in them. No.#He can manipulate his age from 11 to 18 and is dating a 25 yr old#people still insist that the books are connected to the movie despite there being no possibility for that since 2018#And like they totally guess what happens in the books#I saw someone try to say that dreamworks were being 'weird' and aged Jack up to ship him with tooth but in the books he was a child#three things: He's not fourteen (see above for age. He's essentially an adult and is treated as such) and is dating an adult#And he didn't make an official appearance in the books until 2018. Six years AFTER the movies release#and thirdly dreamworks aged him DOWN????#Joyce's og idea was an adult with a wife + kids ???#Like what are you talking about#never mind the people insisting that JACK IS 12???? NO??? Where did you get ur information bc wtf???#the movie started production (in 2008) before any of the books even existed (first book was published in 2011)#We have no idea how much of the books they had! The most they had were Joyce's ideas that were subject to change (and boy did they change)#the walking eggs in the movie didn't come from the book (even tho they're in there) they came from Joyce's doodling on notes!#The third book published alongside the movie tie-in books and then days later the finished film premiered at the Mill Valley Film Festival#by the time the second book rolled around (2012) the movie was probably finished and was just getting distributed by paramount and#was possibly even finished in 2011! Four years of production of the movie and then the first book got released#I cannot express enough how much the books are not the source material for the movie. If anything is it's the 2005 short film Joyce made#God it's so infuriating to see people discussing the books like they're the Bible without having read it. I get so irrationally upset#And why are we talking about the books like they have any relevance to the movie after 2018? that book completely severed all ties#Like I get it if people want to connect them but you'd have to ignore the entire last book to do that (which yeah most do)#but there's so many assumptions about the books and it makes it clear who got their into from fan rumors and who actually read them#if you are basing ur understanding of a book you've never read based on fanfic maybe you just shouldn’t say anything about the book#rotg#rise of the guardians#guardians of childhood#goc
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doriansbutt · 11 months ago
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all I have is corellia left for trooper and then I’m FINALLY DONE with all 8 class stories after 10+ years…..I’ve spent my last 2 4-day weekends trying to finish up the last 4 stories ugh and I must say I regret leaving trooper for last bc my strategy of just stealthy sneaking thru everything doesn’t work if ur mission objectives are to engage w the enemy 😩
EDIT: these were all at lvl 40ish and in ch 3 of their stories, I did not play 50 levels of 4 classes. Except my trooper, he was lvl 30 on Alderaan when I picked him back up lol
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sureuncertainty · 1 year ago
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hopefully it's just tonight but i haven't written at all in the last couple of days and i tried again tonight and it didn't work AGAIN i just can't get myself to write idk sometimes i really feel like the sequel to silence agenda is literally never ever going to actually get written and there's no point in even trying
#like i go thru phases where i'm all excited about it and they never last and i NEVER fucking finish anything with it#like literally ever#i have started to write this novel literally like 4 or 5 times now at this point?#and i can't get it done ever#since 2020 i've been working on it for almost three years#i've been making steady progress on tmtou i literally rewrite silence agenda like every fucking year#and yet i fucking can't get this story written#and idk how much of the problem is me how much of the problem is US and how much of the problem is my motivation levels and stuff#idk idk i think i'm just In It tonight and i'll probably feel differently later#it goes in these cycles#but idk man for awhile i was REALLY CONVINCED that this was gonna be the Time that i actually got this book written#i have the story! i have it! i just need to make it! and idk how!!!#i try and then a week later i can't#and my brain is hyperfixating on other things (idk why i decided to reread aftg) so i just Can't#and i do wanna get silence agenda published soon so i wanna focus on that#but i feel like i can't deliver on this sequel i feel like i can't even write it#idk i've never spent THIS LONG and gotten THIS MANY DRAFTS out of a book without being even like. close to the halfway point#i should finish it! i want to! i want to want to! but i fucking CAN'T#part of it is me part of it is the fact that it's hard to write when kat's not around and she hasn't been lately#idk i really thought i was gonna be able to do it this time. but apparently not#idk when i'll learn#that i can't write this fucking book#win rambles
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waugh-bao · 2 years ago
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*
#the last two weeks have been mental#I passed in my last paper for this term on the 24th#which means I’m officially done with the first year of my PhD#and I got news yesterday that I got a high pass on my French translation exam#so I only have to take one more test (could be in Russian or Portuguese or Hebrew or Arabic. my choice based on what I already have) to#finish my language requirements#[which is one of those things that doesn’t seem like a big deal but you can’t go to prospectus defense without it done]#and to multiply the crazy#the Friday before last#I got news that a proposal is submitted to a call for chapters (which I 100% thought I would be turned down on) was accepted#so I’m going to have a whole 40-50 page research project brought out as a chapter in a book by a major U.S. university press#never mind that I’m leaving in 2 weeks#to travel around Europe and Asia for the next 3 months doing research work and visiting friends#I was at such a low point at the start of this term 2 or 3 months ago#burned out and not feeling good about my work and just generally having a time of it with everything#but it feels like everything has turned around so drastically in such a short amount of time#and pushing myself through the bad/hard parts was worth it to come out the other end#anyway I’m rambling#but it’s been amazing to get things to look forward to and move towards making real accomplishments#especially after not sleeping more than 5 hours a night for like 9 months#not the stones#me stuff
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arundolyn · 1 month ago
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bruh. i know shit is dire for me mentally when i dont even bother to make a pot of tea for myself on a day off
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screampied · 5 months ago
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✧ ⁺˳ cw. fem! reader, inexperienced choso, unprotected, missionary, praise, he’s very whipped, premature ejac, mdni.
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pussydrunk choso who’s well over a hundred years old yet still doesn’t know where the clit is.
not until you show him,
as he’s already starting to feel himself pathetically bottom out, his bottom lip quivers and gets tugged underneath his teeth. he whines at your loose grip that wails out a ring through each of his sensitive pointed ears. through murky blown irises, you stare at him whilst tears of sweat race down each side of his sheeny slick forehead. while choso’s ensnared with the help of your plush thighs keeping his torso secure—he’s panting out puffs and puffs of air breathlessly.
with the way you’re like this—underneath him, locking your legs around his waist, making love to him with your eyes, he’s so weak. “gonna make you feel so good, baby,” and of course, there’s a tremor of a crack in his voice. you and choso both knew he wasn’t gonna last. already, you start to feel him mercilessly shudder above you. your warmth alone was enough to make him a twitching, stammering mess. the fattened girth of his cock stretches you whole and it’s never felt more snug. slinging weak arms around his tensed up shoulders, your wet lips press a chaste kiss against his tapered chin. “ngh, please—baby,” he choked up, your feverish touch and your viscid walls making his brain short circuit. the smooth flats of your ankles runs up and down his back before he slowly tries to start up a stroke or two. but your grip, his eyes widen and his jaw dangles open at your warmth from the inside. the minute sloppy friction introduces itself to your insides, he buries his face into the crook of your neck. “baby, think ‘m gonna d- die.”
“no choso, you’re just about to cum.”
“o- oh.”
you feel him stiffen up out of embarrassment—
a vermillion hue of heat flushes up from his ears and sprays down to his neck before he nibbles at your neck.
nip after nip, he’s savoring your flavorless taste before he achingly pistons his hips forward. even still, he’s trying to thrust forward but your soaked walls were no match for him. there was a fuzziness in his ears and his heart raced quicker and quicker from each individual stroke. “f- fuck,” he swears, leaning into your tender touch once your palms cup his face. choso’s hair was unkempt—instead of darkened raven ponytails, his hair was freely down and flowed down the tips of his conic sculpted shoulders. “baby, am i doing it right?”
“y- yes,” you nod, entrapping his slim waist with your legs. your hold was firmly secure, he’s vigorously rutting into you—mashing his pearly mushroom tip against that spot repeatedly before you whimper. balmy tepid pants ghost against your skin before you feel your cunt starting to constrict around his length. “right there, ‘cho. mhm, just like that.”
choso swallows, tasting a lingering concoction of sweetness on his tongue before his head throws itself back, and oh it’s a sight.
as he’s grinding his hips into you, his pectorals flex, showcasing just how built he really was.
perfectly sculpted abs, he’s got a bit of a few mole marks near his hip.
his body, he steadily rolled his hips inside of you through and through - so good, he’s basically humping you. he’s hot, but to him, you’re hotter.
choso’s eyes flicker back until all that’s shown for a few seconds were pure white. gnawing on the by inside of his cheek, his ears twitch—feeling the individual pulses of your cunt kiss against the swollen crown head of his cock. “please,” he whimpers out a beg. slumping into your chest, sticky bodies sway against each other in sync. “i can finish inside, r- right baby? please, ‘s so much to give you. i don’t wanna be a mess just by myself . . please.”
and every few seconds, he purposely grows quiet just to hear the repetitive sloshes of your pussy. you’re so wet - putting literal faucets to shame.
“you can cum inside, baby. ‘s okay,”
as those angelic words pour out of your lips, he can’t help but lean in—getting rid of the distance between you both. moaning into your mouth, his lips roughly crash onto yours and his hips concur into its final snap.
the bed grew more and more rickety from both amounts of weight - so much so that it’s crying, creaking in pleasure as both bodies mirror each rhythmic movement. his pace was relentless, and by now he’s just unapologetically stuffing you full of inches.
he’s drooling, he can’t help it. all down your neck, it’s a puddle of glossy saliva dribbling down your collarbone and he licks it right up.
“s- sorry, ‘m sorry. don’t mean to be messy,” he babbles into your neck, already broken from how whipped your cunt made him. it’s as if you had some sort of nectar, he was addicted just like that. he laps up his own saliva that dribbles down your neck and he feels your back arch in debleating rapture. your heart quickens it’s irregular thumps as you hold onto his bulky arms, moaning from his thoroughly precise angle. it’s sloppy, but regardless, he was hitting each crevice of your cunt rigorously, not missing a spot. he couldn’t afford to, not when you felt this good. “so sorry, ‘m sorry.”
his broken whispers coo into the shell of your ear as a whiff of peppermint breath wafts against your nose—and finally, he cums.
it’s so much, choso officially loses it the moment he shoots a thick satiny ropes inside of your weeping walls. fervently, your knees buckle and his potent makes him collapse against your gentle hold. it’s hot, milky creamy strings of cum fill into your gummy walls and he’s speechless for a moment. his base gets coated with a sloppy ring and his eyes go half lidded.
black lashes flutter and his face scrunches up in awe - the darkened slanted mark that paints all over the bridge of his nose curves up. it’s so cute, he’s weakly trying to plummet further into your cunt but instead falls right into your chest.
“c-choso,” you huff out a airy moan, feeling his tongue flick up against your tender exposed nipples. a hand of yours rake through his hair, tickling against his undercut before his hips buckle. the half curse silences you with a needy kiss, rocking his body against you even still, wads of cum pour deep down your thighs and he can’t help but fuck it right back into you. with a swift motion, his hips reel back in and his tongue delves into your mouth — craving access. as strands of saliva mix and mash with each other, he sucks on your tongue. “mhh,” and he’s still cumming hard, barred rough hands with a added gentle touch creeps down to hold onto your waist.
choso was hesitant, his big hands slowly roam down your body, calluses fingertips brushing up against the curvature of your beloved physique.
he pulls away and there’s heart eyes forming in his pupils - not literally, but with his lust filled gaze, it just might have. a plump thumb pulls down your bottom lip, and he remains still inside of your sloppy cunt, plugging you full entirely.
with a sheepish expression, he grabs the back of your hand and kisses it. “s- so, um. what are we?”
he’s definitely in love. pussy drunk, but definitely in love.
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seouljazzbar · 5 months ago
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GO WITH IT
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MARK LEE (이민형)
ABOUT 𓂃 ࣪˖ “have sex with me so I can finish writing this” inspired by this tweet or when mark offers to solve all your problems, it's much better to go with it
WARNING 𓂃 ࣪˖ language, mark is a bit of a slut, 18+ spiderman kiss (you’ll see lmao), allusions to fat cock mark… 😵‍💫, overstimulation, unprotected sex, mark’s name repeated like 78 times (no seriously, it’s up there), reader bent like a pretzel, orgasm denial, this author loves a comma, a pinch of softdom!mark, silly ending
PAIRING 𓂃 ࣪˖ bestfriend!mark x bestfriend!reader
WORD COUNT 𓂃 ࣪˖ 6k
AUTHOR'S NOTE 𓂃 ࣪˖ a little surprise drop for my favorite neo! i guess it's also a wee bit of a belated birthday gift to him :) i skimmed it for typos and stuff but i unfortunately did not edit it the way i should have, sorrryyyyy hope y'all enjoy! omg also reader's room is yu nabi's from the kdrama nevertheless hehehe
Nobody was busier than your best friend, Mark Lee. Between his job, his vibrant social life, and his weekly family dinners, you were lucky to be offered a slot in his schedule. It was always a yes to Mark Lee. Usually.
The last three times Mark had tried to make plans with you were all failed attempts, and the excuses varied each time. There was nothing shameful about the truth, but you just couldn’t bring yourself to tell him that your friendship was being thrown to the backburner while you sloppily attempted to get your life together. He knew all about your small business, taking commissions for art prints and ceramics, but he had no idea how much time and effort went into each piece. Besides, knowing Mark he would offer to help, and that wasn’t going to be of service to you in the slightest. 
All you could do was rot in bed, hoping that something would spark your creative mind to no avail. Frustration was starting to take up every corner of your mind— from the nonstop orders that you couldn’t fulfill, to your supplier raising prices, to the fact that you hadn’t had a good date in two years. You were wound too tight to function, and any minute now you were going to start pulling your hair out in chunks.
The sound of the pin-pad at your door let you know that Mark was about to come barreling through. There were so many times that you’d be in strict creation mode, headphones in at full blast while Mark banged at the door pleading for you to answer; when it started to feel like a normal part of your routine, he just requested the code to let himself in. “Yo!”
Except, this time, none of that was necessary. Your headphones were stuffed in their case on the other side of the room, workstation completely untouched with your multiple projects stacked on top of each other. Despite the custom orders piling up over the last two weeks, you hadn’t had the artistic strength to move forward with any of them. The only thing you could do to  buy yourself a little time was to post a message asking for patience and understanding while you navigate some vague emotional hardship. Realistically, though, it would only buy you another week or so before people would start to get angry. 
“Hi.” Perched on a stool near the kitchen island, eyes locked on the cup of coffee you warmed up seventeen minutes ago, you were out of it.
Mark waved a few inches from your face, trying to get your full attention. “Hello? Earth to ___, are you okay?”
You snapped out of it, looking over at your best friend to see that he was dressed for a night on the town. “Sorry, got a lot on my mind right now.”
White, distressed tank top, loose plaid button-up undone, and his sexiest pair of black jeans. The way the meticulous curls fell around his face, looping around his forehead in a way that feigned boylike wonder. He looked oh so delicious, but you would never tell him that— his ego was big enough for the both of you. “Anything I could help with?”
A stifled chuckle barely reached his ears before you cleared your throat, turning toward him with renewed energy. “No, not really.”
Mark put his phone and keys down on the counter, taking a quick intermission to wash his hands before walking back over to you. He’d never been in your apartment in this way before— an unannounced hangout where you’re clearly just a stop along the way, being so underdressed in his presence. He’d seen you in a swimsuit before, but something about a big shirt and underwear felt far more intimate than the two strips of fabric. “This is like the third time you’ve curved me, if you hate me just say that.”
“Oh, you’re so fucking dramatic. I’m just busy.” You shoved at his shoulder, urging him to take a seat so you wouldn’t feel so awkward with him standing over you. He refused cooly, taking a look around your apartment to make sure you hadn’t been aimlessly rotting since the last time he stopped by.
“Even I'm not that busy. What’s going on?”
“I’ve just…” You sighed heavily, a breath you didn’t even know you were holding in. Talking about everything wrong in your life felt far too heavy, too much to divulge to a friend seemingly just doing a wellness check. “I think I’ve bitten off more than I can chew, and I’ve got all these creative blocks that won’t go away and honestly I just need to be fucked like properly fucked to get my juices flowing again but all of the men worth giving it up to are in hiding.”
Mark stood there, mouth agape in disbelief. He did ask, after all. “Woah.”
“Yeah.” It felt embarrassing to hear laid out like that, but there weren’t too many secrets between you and Mark in the first place. Your sex lives weren’t off limits for discussion, and the two of you had plenty of chats that were NSFW in nature. But blurting out how badly  you needed to be railed? That was a new one.
The silence spoke for itself, apparently. You didn’t want to chance a glance up at him, but you knew that you’d have to say something. Maybe something to cover your ass, let him know that you’re well aware how ‘TMI’ that was. Or even—
“I’ll fuck you.”
You nearly choked on air,“What?!” Now you had no choice but to look at him, scanning the twinkle in his eyes in search of sincerity.
“I’m really good, too.” He took a step towards you, eyes never leaving yours as his hands found home in his shirt pockets. This was a side of Mark you rarely got to see— charming, smooth, confident. There were times, namely on nights out, where you’d get a taste of it, watching him chat it up in some dark corner with the prettiest girl you’d ever laid eyes on. But this, being on the receiving end? Watching his eyes drink you in like sweet tea on a balmy Southern summer afternoon? It was enough to make your heart skip several beats. 
“Mark—”
The smile he cracks at you makes you embarrassed for even considering it. “I’m just messing with you, geez,” Heat takes over your face as you try to hide it from him, palms rubbing at your cheeks as your heartbeat tries to find its resting rate. “Although, given that reaction, maybe I shouldn’t be.”
“Shouldn’t be what?”
“Messing with you. Joking, rather. I can definitely mess with you, if you want,” Running so hot and cold in such a short window of time has you shivering under his gaze, scared to make the wrong move and ruin what you’d beg him for. “Hm? Is that what you want?”
The air is thick with anticipation, nothing but the consistent drip from a ceiling leak as the soundtrack to your staring contest with Mark. He was so close to you in all of his Friday night glory, cologne a cloud around you as the heat from his chest permeated your personal space. You were certain that just one taste, just one night in the throes of passion with a curly haired Mark Lee would solve all of your problems. If you closed your eyes, you could picture it— sweaty bodies intertwined amidst the sweltering heat of your studio after dark, the fanning of his breath in your face as he rocks into you, his strong frame caging you into the bed so all you can focus on is Mark, Mark, Mark! His sighs and whines of pleasure flooding your senses so they’re all you can pay attention to, just his voice and his unrelenting pace as he— “___,” The sound of your name on his tongue snapped you out of your lustful haze. “Offer’s about to expire, baby.”
Mark slipped his jacket off without breaking away from you, dropping it carelessly on the floor while your attention wandered to his arms. He seemed to know exactly what he was doing, crossing his arms against his chest as he awaited your answer. “You’re serious? This isn’t some cruel prank where if I say yes, you’ll tell me it was just a joke?”
“That’s not my idea of a prank, princess, where’s the fun in that?” Mark licked his lips, a faint smirk taking over. “Look, if you’re uncomfortable, we can pretend this never happened,” His fingers ghost along the side of your face, sweetly making their way to your lips. “But if it were up to me? I’d have you seven ways to Sunday all over this apartment.”
That was all you needed to lunge into a kiss with him, throwing him slightly off guard as you practically tossed yourself into his arms. But his lips were ready for you, steaming hot and sopping wet— just the way you like it. The smush of your lips together so suddenly garnered the sweetest moan from him, just enough to tease you of what’s to come. His arms wrapped around your torso like a claw machine, pulling you so flush against him as though he was afraid you’d slip through his fingers. 
Your lips were still tingling as he pulled away to lap kisses against your neck, peppering anywhere his lips could reach. “M-Mark, hmngh.”
It was no secret that Mark had a bit of a reputation in the bedroom, but you never thought you’d witness it firsthand. His hands delved blindly to your legs, hoisting you around his waist so he could move you over to your bed. You almost had a mind to remind him of the three big steps up to your bedroom area, but he was far suaver than you gave him credit for— this wasn’t exactly his first rodeo.
He tossed you on the bed, the slight recoil exhilarating before he was all over you again. “If a proper fuck is what you want…” His kisses had shifted to your chest, lips and tongue sucking in the essence of your skin like he couldn’t bear not to. He was almost more excited than you were, his touch reaching anywhere and everywhere all at once, like he couldn’t get enough of exploring everything you had to offer. It was all starting to feel real as Mark made a move to lift up your shirt and the implication of your best friend seeing you naked caught up with you.
“Wait, wait. We’re gonna see each other naked.”
Mark, with the fabric of your shirt caught in his teeth, stared at you blankly. “Yeah…” 
“Shouldn’t that be weird?”
He rolled his eyes playfully, squeezing at your hip with the hand closest to it. “Maybe, but how do you suggest we fuck then? Through my jeans?” He pulled your body swiftly down the mattress so you could feel how hard he was through your panties. 
“Shut the fuck up, oh, my God.”
“I was trying to before you got all weird and jittery,” Mark made a move for your shirt again, and this time you didn’t fight him on it. The balmy air hit your pert nipples the second they were exposed, and Mark couldn’t stop the gruff  noise that formed in his throat. “Just as pretty as I imagined.” You squirmed at the compliment, cheeks heating up at the sight of him drooling over you. “Like that? Hm? Are you my pretty girl?” 
His lips wrapped around the peak of your breast, tongue swirling to the same pattern his thumb and forefinger followed on your other nipple. “Yes!” It was embarrassing, how fast you succumbed to his commands. He struck with confidence, maneuvering his way around your body like he’d done it before. “I’m your pretty girl.”
“So sexy saying that for me, baby,” Your legs part instinctually to make more room for him, and Mark took that as his sign to shift gears. “You know… sometimes, every now and then, I’d think about you. If I needed a little extra push towards ecstasy, you’d pop in my head. Think about the way you’d look if I got my hands on you. How you’d feel, how you’d taste,” His fingers prodded at the growing wet patch on your underwear. “Gonna let me see?”
Your back arched off the mattress, hands pulling him impossibly closer to you. “Mark, please stop asking, just do it.”
“Mm, say ‘please’ again.”
“Mark!”
His laugh would be even sexier if it weren’t at your expense. “Alright, fine.” Your panties stayed on as his tongue lapped at your folds through them, the flimsy cotton doing absolutely nothing to stop him from devouring you. You jerked at the feeling as his tongue licked a bold strip through your folds, your hands entangling themselves in his curly locs. “You’re so wet, holy shit.”
One quick motion moved your panties to the side, puffy wet lips on full display for his greedy eyes. His eyes sparkled at the sight, mouth watering at the mere thought of getting to taste you. “Smell so good, pretty girl.” He was so hungry and you were the only one who could satiate him. His tongue had a mind of its own, pressing flat against your folds without a second thought, “Taste even better.”
Mark’s grip on your thighs held you in place as he licked you clean, running his tongue against every nerve-ending he could feel for. He pulled them apart just enough to spread you out for him, just enough to be on full display for him. Your taste occupied every corner of his mind as he blacked out in pleasure, lapping up every drop your gushing pussy offered up.
He circled your clit until you saw stars, your squirming uncontrollable as his tongue darted inside of you. “You’re so good to me.”
Mark groaned between your thighs, in love with the praise you were showering him with. There was something about how natural and seamless it was for you to compliment him that turned him on even more, if that was possible. “I don't think I'll ever get enough of how you taste, Christ.”
His free hand slithered up your torso, sinking his thumb into your eager mouth while his continued working at your core. He wasn’t shy, either, licking boldly from your ass to your clit while shaking his tongue side to side. Slurping up every drop that dribbled out of your entrance, twisting his tongue as far inside of you as he could reach. You were dripping down his chin by the time he introduced his fingers, prodding at your glistening hole with just one to test the waters. He took the way you gripped onto his hair as his sign that you were more than enjoying it. “F-feels good, oh, God.”
“Mm, don’t be shy.”
Laving at your clit, he drank up the praises the way he was drinking you up. He only pulled away to fully discard your panties, diving back into center with renewed vigor. “Need more.” You didn’t want to push him any closer to you, scared you’d smother him, but he didn’t seem afraid to drown. He’d awoken something desperately greedy inside of you, and you were slipping further into a haze of pleasure with every passing moment. Two fingers pressed their way inside of you, pumping slowly to get you adjusted before the jerk of your hips told him to pick up the pace. You couldn’t hold still with the way he was devouring you, mouth and hands prying you open deliciously all for his enjoyment. He would die between your thighs if you let him, you’re sure of it.
You had to physically pull him off of you to get him to stop, orgasming bubbling inside of you in record time. “Want you inside of me already.” The entirety of the lower half of his face was a sticky mess of your arousal, from his nose to his chin completely covered in you. “Bro, you need to wipe… that.” Times like these, you were glad that you kept tissues on your nightstand.
“You cannot and will not call me ‘bro’ now that I know what you taste like. How insulting.”
It hadn’t dawned on you that Mark was still fully dressed, sans his plaid jacket-shirt that was curled in a sad pile on the floor. “Is that an order?”
He bit at his lip, eyes darkening as he drank in your bare figure sprawled beneath him. Your hands ran themselves up and down his arms, finally getting a chance to admire his body after all the focus was turned to you. Maybe it was the lighting, the way his hair fell over his eyes, or just the fact that he was the best kisser you’d had the pleasure of test driving— but he looked divine. Halo of light circling his head as he fumbled with his belt, biceps flexing as he lifted the tank top off of his lean frame. Suddenly, he wasn’t your friend anymore; he was something new entirely.
You were so lost in your own adoration of him that you hadn’t noticed he was undressed, pulling you directly underneath him as he kissed at your collarbones. “Where’d you go off to, huh?”
“It’s nothing,” you shook your head, snapping back to reality (which was so much better than whatever was going on in your will they-won’t they fantasy). “Thank you, for this.”
Mark didn’t respond with words, instead opting to kiss you softly, tenderly. Slowly, deeply, passionately kissing you as he lowered himself atop of you. He wasn’t in a rush anymore, pulling you into him like you were made of glass, grinding against your center like you had all the time in the world. Everything was so delicate, like he was savoring the moment for years to come. It scared you, if you were being honest. “Mark? You know you can still kiss me while you’re inside of me, yeah?”
He hummed in approval, connecting your mouths again in a slow, languid kiss, tongues slithering into each other's mouths and twisting messily. You could feel him lining up with your entrance, his hand wrapped around his girth to guide himself into you steadily. Chancing a look down, you tried to hide the way your eyes bulged out at the sheer size of him— he would never let you hear the end of it if you fawned over how huge he was. It took all of your willpower to remain still, your body welcomed him as though it had hundreds of times, the shape of him slotting inside of you like he was made to. His fingers tangled in your hair, angling your head so he could travel to your neck, groaning out his praise against your sticky skin. The absence of his lips on yours made you whine, hands wandering the expanse of his back just for confirmation that this was real. “Tell me how it feels.”
You couldn’t. Months of the worst dry spell you’d ever experienced coming to a head with Mark milking you for everything you had couldn’t be described. All you could do was moan, coiling around him even tighter as he started to rock his hips forward as though he was testing the waters. He was the only thing you could focus on— his scent, his taste, they way his nose pressed right against yours, the feeling of his fingers intertwining with yours against the mattress, the dionysian desire his hips were fulfilling. It was all just Mark, Mark, Mark. “Mark!” His teeth couldn’t resist nipping at your lip, pulling on it playfully before letting go to let his tongues soothe the area.
“I can’t help it, you’re so fun to play with.” He kissed you to make up for the quick dot of pain, relishing in the way you immediately kissed him back with just as much enthusiasm.
“I’m, I’m close.”
He spread your legs further apart to give himself more room to buck his hips, pressing at your thighs as he fucked into you faster. “Hold it.”
“Whyyyy?”
“You asked for the Mark Lee experience,” His thrusts grew pointed, almost exaggerated as his hips drove forward with precision, “and I’m gonna give it to you.”
You could feel yourself teetering dangerously close to the edge, stomach coiled tight and lungs working overtime. The mere thought of being denied your orgasm was getting you worked up— you hate not getting your way. Your legs wrapped around Mark’s waist, locking your ankles together for good measure. If he wanted to play games, you were down for it. “Harder.”
But instead of faster, Mark slowed to a complete stop, hands drifting down to your hips to pin them to the mattress. “Oh, baby, do you think I’m stupid?” He chuckled in your face, shaking his head as the laughter subsided. “That’s a sure fire way to get nothing.”
“Wait, no, please! I didn’t mean it.”
The damage had already been done. His patience with you was wearing thin, and he didn’t take kindly to disobedience. “Have you learned your lesson?” Each second that passed stole a piece of your orgasm away with it, that delicious ball of tension and heat simmering down to a cool pit of nothing the longer Mark held your hips down. Your heart stopped fluttering with urgency, slowing to its resting rate as you dealt with the consequences of trying to outsmart your best friend. “Speak up, baby.”
“Yes,” You hissed out, annoyed that your declaration of needing to be fucked was currently going unanswered. Who is he to deny you of the very thing he promised you? “I learned my lesson.”
It was exactly what he wanted to hear, “God, you’re so sexy when you behave yourself.” 
You rolled your eyes, slapping his chest as he pulled away from you entirely. “What happened to ‘having me seven ways to Sunday all over this apartment’?” 
It was Mark’s turn to roll his eyes, fingers running through his hair as he sat back on his heels. “Up against the wall.” You did as he said, spreading your hands against the wall as you felt him behind you, lining himself up with your sodden entrance. The inward arch felt unnatural at first, but you settled into it as you got comfortable in it. “Look up at me.” Mark was towering over you, quite literally. From this angle, all you had to do to see his face was look up and there he was with that devilish smile. His cock pressed into you as you watched him, the sheer thickness splitting you clean open for him, sucking him in like your pussy had been waiting for him. “Fuck, you feel so good.”
Maybe it was the taboo of sleeping with a friend, but your body was on fire. You felt your entire body heating up at the sudden change in his demeanor, switching your flirty best friend to a man absolutely starved. With your eyes screwed shut, you reached a hand out to hold onto his arm, fingers giving it a squeeze, head bumping the bare skin of his chest.
“Fuck.”
You were even wetter than you were while he had you pinned to the mattress, the feeling of being filled by him more electrifying after a brief intermission. He was all over you again and that was all that mattered, walls tightening around him with a vice-like grip that had both of you gasping for air.
“Shit,” he hiss, already lost in the sensation, “so good to me, ___, so fucking good.” He emphasized the last syllable with a gentle thrust that had your nails scratching at the wall. Your orgasm was building back up faster than you would’ve liked it to, considering you knew Mark wouldn’t let you cum so soon after denying you.
It hit you deeply, in all the right places at the right angle. Mark was that good from the start, and you couldn’t believe you’d been missing out on it. If you knew he was this goof, you would’ve ruined the friendship ages ago. “So fucking deep, Mark, keep going like that,” you moaned, just as caught up as he was.
He captured your lips in a searing kiss, fucking into you with much more vigor than before, gripping your ass with such force you half expected to see the dents after. You moaned all you had to say, all you had to feel into each other’s mouths. When his velvety tongue enveloped yours you could almost taste the remnants of your arousal and the chocolate muffin he ate right in between sweeping and mopping. The water was still running, hitting part of his back and your leg.
You couldn’t pull away from him even if you tried— he was a part of you now, molded into each other’s bodies until you became one. “Wanna keep fucking you forever,” he groaned, pouring his all into every touch. “Keep you on me forever.”
It threw you for a loop. Keep you forever? Mark was a lot more emotional than he let on, sure, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that he meant it in ways other than platonic. You couldn’t even stop him to ask what he meant by that because he was so deep in your guts that you were starting to feel him in your throat. 
“Don’t stop,” you cried out, biting your lip when he hit a certain spot inside you and kept hitting it over and over again— the taste of blood didn’t stop you. “Don’tstopdon’tsopdon’tstop-”  
“Fuck,” he whisper, voice strained and raspy, smacking at your ass before gripping it and bringing you down to meet his increasingly harsh thrusts, the slap echoing throughout your studio apartment. “Wanna fuck you forever, baby.” One hand kept its vice grip on your hip while the other grasped at your neck, forcing you to maintain eye contact with him. “Gimme a kiss, pretty girl.” Your lips found his despite the blurring of your vision, a supple lock as he steadied rocking into your core. Kissing him upside down felt worlds away from the first kiss you shared with him, and yet you still couldn’t get enough of it. The hand on your hip slithered up to cup your breast, rolling your nipple as he pulled away from the kiss. “So obedient.”
All the shame had disappeared from your body, the satisfaction of finally being fucked numbing you to his quips completely. His name was on the tip of your tongue, begging to be set free, but the way his hips ricocheted off your ass made you short circuit. Your skin was hot to the touch, goosebumps littering the expanse of your body as your toes curled around the fabric of your duvet. 
“Who knew you were such a dirty girl, hm?” Mark tutted. You hold back your moans, reveling in the sensation of his tip sliding up and down you dripping folds. Interrupting his own rhythm just to get a rise out of you, giving you no warning before shoving himself right back in. 
“Bet this was your plan all along,” You ignore the fact that he technically initiated all of this, too blissed out to snap back at him cheekily. “Dripping all over my cock, fuck.” He’s thinking out loud, eyes locked at the way your pussy invites him in, grip unrelenting with each thrust. He drew his hips back again to repeat the same unforgiving tempo, laughing to himself at the way your thighs shake in anticipation.
“Wanted this for so long.” You whine, bashful about the confession rolling off your tongue so easily. Mark had always occupied a special part of your mind, but the barrier of your friendship with him always kept you from thinking of him in that way for too long. He’s hot, sure, and one of the most genuine guys you’d ever met— but risking that by dating him felt too stupid to risk.
Mark didn’t keep you waiting for too long, filling you to the brim with one stroke that had your toes curling. You gasp, a shiver running up your spine as he adopts a frenzied pace that nearly knocks you into the wall in front of you. “You’re so fucking warm.”  He can’t help but moan out at the feeling, clutching onto your hips as he pistons in and out of you. Blunt fingers digging into your skin as you let your body fall forward. You felt so full.
“Mark, fuck.” you whine, probably a tad too loud considering how thin the walls feel at night but you couldn’t help it, with the way he held onto you and fucked you like he had never had good pussy in his life. “Faster.”
“Where’d your manners go? Say ‘please’.” He teased, testing your obedience despite knowing you’d obey him. There was just something about knowing he held your pleasure in the palm of his hands, knowing that you’d do anything he asked of you. 
“Please, please, please Mark, need you so bad.” It sounded  pathetic, and it only makes Markn screw his eyes shut as he fucks you harder. All control lost as he watches the drool drip from your mouth down the wall— he was really fucking your brains out.
Mark's rough groans were slowly morphing  into needy moans, the sound causing even more slick to build up between your legs. “Taking my cock like such a good girl.” And you really were, considering you had nothing but the wall to grip onto, you let your body go wherever Mark led it. Each thrust sending you closer and closer to your climax, his dick hitting every single spot that you’re sure you’d see stars.
“I’m gonna cum, fuck.”
“You’re gonna cum? Mm, you can cum. Cum all over my dick, lemme see that pretty face.” You arched inward one last time for him, looking up at the man sending you to heaven and back on a loop. “There you go. Good fucking girl.” Mark smacked your ass sharply, holding onto your ass as he switched his rhythm to harsh, precise thrusts that were sure to throw you over the edge of pleasure. He kissed your forehead as the growing tension in the pit of your stomach snapped, your walls contracting around him in a tight frenzy that nearly triggered his own. He didn’t slow down, though. The clutching of pussy did absolutely nothing to deter him from fucking you with the same rigor, hips just as quick as they were before he finally let you cum.
“M-Mark, I don’...” The aftershocks of ecstasy silenced you in your tracks, the sparks of pleasure like electricity through your bloodstream. “Don’t stop.”
He laughed at the change of your tune, thumb flitting down to flick at your clit. “Baby needs more? Haven’t had enough yet?”
Even with him poking fun at your desperation, you were too drunk on his cock to care. All you could manage was a chorus of fuck me, fuck me, fuck me as Mark held you flush against him. “God, yes, fill me up like that.” Your arousal was dripping all over the inside of your thighs, the sticky slick glistening under the moonlight that peaked through your curtains. 
“That’s right, I’m not fucking done with you yet, pretty girl.” This side of him was lethal. He was insatiable, obsessed with the way your body responded to him, greedy for the way you bent to his every whim. It was such a change of pace from the way he was kissing you in missionary, the way he treated you like a doll that he was afraid of hurting you. “Feel good?”
He was mocking you— of course, it was good. You didn’t have to tell him that for him to know; but feeding his ego was so addictive. The way he’d reward you for praising him was enough for you to fall for the trap every single time. “So, good, Mark, hngh.”
The smack of his hips against your ass bounced off the walls, echoing the depravity that you and Mark were oh so good at acting on. All of your senses on overdrive, the overstimulation pulling at you from every end, you weren’t sure if you could take it all for much longer. Drool slipped from your mouth onto Mark’s arm, the edges of your vision blurring as you could feel yourself bubbling over. “Gonna cum again?”
“‘m gonna cum again.”
He was drunk with the power of controlling you. “Hold it.”
“Mark, I can’t.” You were surprised you were even able to do it the first two times he commanded it, not used to having gratification delayed against your wishes.
“Gonna fill you up and then you can cum.” It only took a few more targeted thrusts before he was spilling his seed into you, an endless leak of evidence of what took place over the last hour or so. Even as his cock began to soften, he made sure to fuck you through it, massaging tight circles into your clit until your legs spasmed. The air was snatched from your lungs, eyes flittering shut in sweet relief. It was only two orgasms, but the build up had really taken it out of you. Mark flipped you over gently on your back, brushing the hair out of your face as you sleepily opened your eyes.
“Look at that. Take a look at the mess we made, baby.” 
He gestured between your legs, a slippery canvas of cum smeared across your most intimate parts. “So much…” You couldn’t stop yourself from gathering some on your fingers, popping them into your mouth for a taste of the two of you mixed together.
Your brain was on fire, neurons alight with the molten sensation that was Mark Lee. Even though you took him up on the offer, you weren’t expecting him to completely change your world. A solid orgasm and a pat of the back, maybe. But now you were afraid that he was your new addiction that you’d never be able to feed. 
You woke up in a fresh sleep shirt to the smell of toasted bagels and coffee. Mark balanced the plates and mugs the best he could as he tackled the steps leading up to your bedroom area. “Mornin’ sleepyhead.”
“What time is it?”
He shoved a mug of steaming coffee into your hands, kissing you on the forehead. “Don’t worry about that. You were exhausted, wanted to let you sleep.”
“Thank you.” The coffee was exactly to your liking, just what you needed after a night of fucking like rabbits. “So, should we talk about… it?”
Blush rose to his cheeks and there was no hiding it, his hair pulled back into a messy bun so his face was on full display. “I mean, only if you want to? I’m okay with proceeding however you want to.”
“You’d be fine staying friends? Never talking about it? Pretending that nothing’s changed?”
He shrugged, “if that’s what you wanted, then yeah.” His attention shifted to his breakfast, eyes zeroed in on his eggs and toast like it was a gourmet meal. “Just don’t wanna make you feel weird about it, you know?”
“Mark?” You placed your coffee and plate down on your bedside table, turning your full attention to him as he continued to avoid your gaze. “What did you mean by all the ‘keep you forever’ stuff then?”
He rushed to try to explain himself, scrambling his words into a whole lot of nothing. “It’s not, like, a big deal or anything. I just get possessive… in bed, sometimes. I’m not a weirdo or anything, I promise.”
None of that mattered to you anyway, your dreams of Mark that clouded your head all night giving you the push you needed to throw caution to the wind. Would it be the worst thing in the world to risk it all with him? One kiss, chaste and sweet, was enough to shut him up for just a moment. “So if I said we should try exploring further, maybe go on a date or something, you’d say yes?”
His eyebrows shot up to his hairline, mouth falling agape as he searched your face for any signs that you were being facetious. “Y-yeah, yes. If that’s what you want.” He was so bad with his feelings, sometimes— but you were more than willing to be patient.
“Well, good, because that’s what I want.”
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notquitecanon · 1 month ago
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Dense // Simon "Ghost" Riley x Reader
Summary: A pretty little thing like you isn't flirting with Ghost? Are you?
Based off a prompt that's been a worm in my brain since 8th grade (I'm 25 now) and I'm probably going to write the same exact thing from the other POV.
TW: none, just a little fluffy hopefully funny insight into Simon's thought process.
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God, Lieutenant Riley was dense.
That's what most people thought after watching him interact with you for longer than three minutes at a time. You'd been working in communications for two years now, mostly dealing with Captain Price but Ghost was always lurking around somewhere nearby. You'd been warned to avoid him.
He's mean, He's surly, he'll bite your head right off. He's dangerous blah blah blah...
What they didn't consider was that he was a tree of a man- tall, dark, and mysterious with pretty eyes. And you had little to no survival instincts when it came to a man who knew how to shut the fuck up.
It was obvious to anyone who watched you interact with him for any amount of time. How you stood closer to him than need be, how you watched him through your lashes when he spoke his few words to you, the way your voice changed when you spoke to him. Then it was the little touches and little gifts, sitting with him at empty tables when others would turn and walk the other way. You were so sweet on him, maybe even smitten with him.
Ghost never seemed to notice, and if he did he didn't pay it much mind. Just assumed you were just one of those chatty and nice people he seemed to attract every now and then- like Price or Soap. It didn't hurt either that you were sweet & pretty & and smelled good... no, didn't hurt at all and certainly didn't mean anything.
He brushed off Johnny and Gaz's teasings, met Price's knowing looks with icy glares. You definitely weren't flirting with him. There was no way someone like you was pursuing someone like him romantically. That was... ridiculous. Right?
Still. Something about that idea scratched his brain just right. Planted a seed that you unknowingly watered with sweet smiles and bright eyes. So, he started paying more attention.
You never got Price's attention by lingering a small, warm hand on the Captain's bicep- but you did with Ghost. You were chatty with Gaz, but never so much so that you made yourself late to other engagements- Ghost was losing track of the times you'd been chatting at with him only to look at your watch and scurry off with hot cheeks. And Soap could make you laugh, but he never got your cheeks to turn that pretty pink color- Ghost rarely saw you without rosy cheeks. Hmmm... Interesting.
So, he watched and observed (pined and yearned, more accurately). Until one day when he noticed how you flipped your hair over your shoulder as you spoke to him, direct eye contact through fluttering lashes, the dilation of your eyes.
"You have such pretty eyes-" You barely finished your statement before he interjected. He cut you off before you could even giggle, voice stern and hard and quick as those pretty dangerous eyes narrowed in a way that would have chased anyone else off. Not you though.
"Are you flirting with me?"
He asked, taking a looming step closer to you where you were standing by the breakroom coffee machine. He expected you to stutter out an excuse or apologize, or even frantically excuse yourself. He did not expect you to sigh, almost in relief(?) with that bright smile of yours.
"I have been for the last two years." You breathe in admittance, "But thanks for noticing now."
Bloody hell, you were trying to kill him.
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I wrote this instead of paying attention in lecture
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