#idk I didn’t watch the last movie so maybe he is | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

trashytracktales · 2 months ago

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For VDay requests: Lando takes her to a nice dinner and she gets mad at him idk maybe he does something without realizing. And then they come back home and shes still pissed but he looks so good after he changes in his comfy clothes so they end up fucking on the couch or something but that's when she tells him why was she mad at him ❤🥀

Happy Valentine's Day guys xx

Torn on Valentine | LN⁴

💌 REQUESTED by anon ──── Thank you for this request, I actually had so much fun with it. Enjoy your reading and happy Valentine’s, my lovelies!!

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🩷summary ──── Lando notices immediately that his girlfriend is angry with him. However, he has no idea why. But whatever the reason might be, he is determined to remind her exactly why she can't stay mad for long. It's Valentine’s Day, after all.

🩷pairing ──── Lando Norris x she/her reader

🩷rating ──── explicit

🩷category ──── F/M

🩷warnings ──── 18+, mature/sexual content, established relationship, descriptive language, swearing, unresolved tension, teasing, jealous!reader, mild dominance, begging, unprotected sex, slight angst-to-smut.

🩷word count ──── 4.4k (4.444 to be exact hehe)

🩷date ──── Feb. 14, 2025

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VALENTINE’S DAY IS ruined.

Lando had gone all out to make sure that won’t happen, starting the morning by waking her up with muffins in bed, the scent of vanilla still lingering in the sheets as he pressed lazy little kisses to her neck.

They spent the day walking around the city, and shopping, wandering through little boutiques where he insisted on buying her anything and everything she had laid her eyes on.

And then, la pièce de résistance: a fancy dinner at an exclusive restaurant, the kind of place with floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the city. A soft melody played from a piano in the corner, setting the perfect atmosphere. The food was great, the wine was good, and every detail screamed romance, from the flickering candle between them to the way Lando’s thumb traced tiny heart shapes on her hand as they talked, his eyes never leaving hers.

All in all, it had been perfect. Until he ruined it.

The moment was burned into her mind, replaying it over and over again, like a broken record. The waiter, a girl who had been a little too friendly with him all night, had leaned in when she refilled his wine at some point, brushing his shoulder with a touch that lingered for too long. And Lando, oblivious as ever, had winked at her.

Winked.

She knew her boyfriend. Knew he was clueless about these things, that his flirty nature wasn’t always intentional. But that didn’t make it sting any less. Because the waiter had noticed. She smirked at him, tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, and acted like his girlfriend wasn’t literally sitting on the other side of the table.

After that, she had gone silent.

The entire ride home, she stared out the window, with her arms crossed and lips pursed, and her knees facing the opposite way from him. Lando figured something was wrong ever since; he glanced at her between shifts, brows furrowing, but he didn’t say anything, probably thinking she was just tired.

Then they got home, and she had barely looked at him as she changed into something more comfortable, still replaying the scene in her head.

Had he done it on purpose? Probably not. But did it matter?

That’s… debatable. It mattered to her.

Deprived by every emotion except irritation, she followed Lando setting up his last surprise of the day — a cozy movie marathon on the couch, complete with fuzzy blankets, sweets and drinks, and a bunch of her favorite Valentine’s-themed movies ready to run.

Now, their apartment is quiet except for the hum of the TV that neither of them is really watching. The tension between them is thick, lingering in the air like a storm that hasn’t broken. Yet.

She breathes heavily, sitting curled up on the opposite side of the couch, legs tucked beneath her, and arms crossed over her chest. Lando, on the other side, is content to let her be.

Until he isn’t.

“Are you gonna tell me what’s wrong, or are we playing the guessing game again?” he finally asks, voice edged with concern. He knows that she needs time to process whatever’s bothering her at the moment, but his patience has limits, too.

She doesn’t look at him, just shrugs as she lies, “Nothing’s wrong.”

Lando puffs out a quiet laugh, shaking his head. “Right. That’s why you’ve been side-eyeing me like I insulted your entire family ever since we got back. It’s annoying, you know? If you have something to say…” his voice trails off, but he feels a wave of anger building inside, so he decides to let go before making it worse.

Her jaw tightens.

She doesn’t want to give in, mostly because she knows that the reason why she’s mad is, well, kind of absurd. But at the same time, she’s frustrated in a way that isn’t just about her boyfriend winking at other girls. The weight of the week has been pressing down on her shoulders, and she needs something — him — but she’s too stubborn to say it. Especially now. Still, her eyes keep flickering down, lingering on the way his sweatpants hang low on his hips, the lazy way he’s sprawled out, legs spread wide.

He catches her looking, fighting a smile as he stretches his arms over the back of the couch. “You wanna sit on it?”

Her head snaps toward him, face heating instantly at his question. “What?”

Lando shrugs, “You keep looking,” he tilts his head, feigning innocence. “Figured I’d save you the trouble of pretending you don’t want to.”

She scoffs, but can’t deny it. She does want to. Desperately. But she’s mad at him. So, she says nothing. Just presses her lips together, turning her attention back to the screen like she isn’t thinking about climbing onto his lap and letting him pull her apart, little by little.

On the TV, the main characters are making out, sending her mind spinning relentlessly, fueling her sudden desire. Apparently, that’s enough for her to decide that she has to put an end to it, finally taking Lando’s advice and speak her mind. But he’s faster. His hands are reaching out for her, almost like they appeared out of nowhere, gripping her waist, effortlessly pulling her onto his lap.

A surprised gasp leaves her lips, but she doesn’t fight him, and doesn’t push him away. If anything, she melts just a little, legs instinctively settling on either side of his hips.

He looks up at her, fingers squeezing at her waist. “That’s better, hm?”

She glares, but there’s no real heat behind it. “I didn’t say you could touch me.”

Lando raises his eyebrows in surprise. “You didn’t say I couldn’t either,” he counters, sliding his hands down to grip her thighs, thumbs brushing tiny, teasing circles on her skin. “And you’re not exactly running away.”

She hates how smug he is. Hates how easily he sees through her act. Hates how good he looks right now.

But then his hands slide further up, fingertips ghosting over the curve of her ass, pressing her down against him just enough for her to feel him through the fabric of his sweats. And the feeling is… intense to say the least, since she’s only wearing an oversized t-shirt and her pajama shorts.

Lando watches her closely, aware of the effect he has on her. “Gonna tell me why you’re mad, or do I have to make you forget?”

She shouldn’t give him the satisfaction. But when he shifts beneath her, dragging her forward so deliciously slow, her resolve crumbles.

Her hands grip his shoulders, nails pressing in. “Shut up.”

“And?”

She closes her eyes, exasperated by his attitude, “Shut up and do something.”

Lando grins at her bluntness, fingers tightening on her hips as he rolls her against him again. “Ask nicely.”

She huffs annoyed, but so needy it aches. “Lando,” she warns in a low voice.

Lando shakes his head. “No, baby. You know how this works,” he reminds her, lips brushing against her neck as his hands keep guide her movements. “Use your words.”

She breathes lightly, head tipping back as the friction sends heat pooling low in her belly. “Please?”

“See, that’s a good start,” he chuckles, nipping at her jaw and dragging his tongue over the sting, “But I know you can do better.”

Her pride wars with her desperation, but it’s a losing battle. She needs more than that, and she knows he won’t give it to her until she breaks.

Next time she speaks, her voice is a whisper, breathy yet sweet, “I need you, please.”

He smirks as he watches her through his eyelashes, happy with the state he managed to put her in so easily. “There goes my girl.”

Lando can see the shift in her the second he finishes his sentence. It’s in the way frustration morphs into impatience, and how her breath hitches every time he grinds her against him but doesn’t give her what she really wants.

“I know you’re enjoying this, but there’s no reason for you to take your sweet ass time, you know that,” she mutters, her voice edged with irritation.

Lando shrugs. “And you know I like watching you squirm.”

She rolls her eyes, but her body betrays her — again and again. Her fingers curl into the fabric of his hoodie, while her thighs tense around his waist. With a sharp exhale, she moves on her own now, hands sliding down between them, tugging at the waistband of his sweats. Lando follows her movements, amused, but doesn’t stop her as she pulls them down just enough to free him.

Her breath catches at the sight: he’s already hard, the head flushed deep red, leaking just slightly.

She glances back at him, brows raised, but Lando shrugs again, as if the reason is obvious. “You on my lap, begging? Kinda hard not to get… you know, hard.”

Her stomach clenches at his nonchalance, the way he acts like it’s inevitable. Like, of course he’d be this ready for her. Duh.

Lando exhales excited as she wraps her fingers around him, stroking just enough to make his hips twitch beneath her. His breath gets slightly unsteady after that, but his control remains.

“Getting bold now?” he asks, eyes locked on her as he pushes her shirt up just a little, tracing his fingers along the warm skin of her waist.

The girl doesn’t answer, just bites her lip as he hooks his fingers under the waistband of her shorts, dragging them down and letting them catch on the curve of her thighs before she kicks them away. That’s when the teasing glint in Lando’s eyes fades, replaced with something darker. He swallows hard, hands settling firm on her hips as he drinks her in.

“So soft,” he mumbles under his breath, mostly to himself.

She feels exposed in a way that has nothing to do with being half-naked. It’s like he’s seeing everything, because he knows her so deeply. Like he’s about to ruin her in the best way possible.

And she’s going to let him.

Lando wraps his hand around hers and, together, they pump his cock slowly, his gaze always on her, watching the way her body responds to the sight of it. Then he runs his thumb over the tip, spreading the bead of wetness there while he moves purposely, dragging the length of himself through her folds, groaning at how slick and warm she is.

“Fucking hell,” he breathes, pressing his forehead to hers for a second, while she needs to hold on to him with both hands now. “You’re dripping.”

She whimpers as he does it again, sliding against her, teasing her clit with the thick head before pulling back, drawing out her frustration.

“Lando, don’t…” she whines, shifting against his chest, trying to get more of him.

Lando laughs, low and raspy, but his grip on her isn’t loosening one bit. “Patience, baby.”

“I need—”

“Yeah?” he cuts her off, pressing the head of his cock against her entrance this time, barely pushing in before pulling back out. “What? This what you need?”

Her stomach flips at the feeling, so raw, unable to spit out any words. Instead, she only manages to nod.

To show her that he appreciates her honesty, Lando guides her hips, dragging her along his length, pressing his swollen tip against her clit once more and holding her there. Without moving. She gasps, her whole body shuddering as the pressure sends sparks through her nerves.

Lando groans, feeling how she pulses against him, how her body aches for more. “Well, shit. That’s pretty,” he admits, watching her fall apart in his hands.

She lets a little cry out in protest, trying to push down, but he keeps her there, right on the edge of everything, everything.

“You gonna beg for it again?” he asks in a teasing voice.

She wants to fight him on it, but she can’t. Not when she’s this close to him, when every second of waiting feels like pure, unfiltered torture.

She shakes her head, her little cry turning into a throaty moan.

Lando gets ecstatic at the sound and the way her body shivers — so desperate, so utterly wrecked for him before he’s even inside her. For a split second, he considers giving in completely. But then he remembers she’s mad at him. Or at least, she was. And if she thinks she can get away with that attitude without consequence, she needs to understand that she’s sorely mistaken.

Instead of giving her what she wants, Lando kisses her. Hard. His lips crash into hers, swallowing the whimper of frustration that slips from her throat. He starts guiding her against him, harder now, making her ride the thick length of his cock without ever letting her sink onto it, the friction sweet but never enough. She tries to pull back, gasping against his mouth, but he doesn’t let her. One hand tangles in her hair, holding her close, keeping her exactly where he wants her.

Until her patience snaps and, with a sharp gasp, she bites his lip, just hard enough to make him hiss, her nails digging into his scalp as she pulls at his curls. Lando moans, a low, needy sound that strikes her like lightning. The sting, the fight, the way she’s clawing for a type of control she won’t get — not yet — motivates him to keep teasing her.

Annoyed, she lets her hand slip between them, fingers wrapping around his cock, slick and throbbing, before she finally sinks down onto him. Because, sometimes, the best thing you can do for yourself is to take matters into your own hands.

At that, both of them go silent.

Her body tightens around him instantly, the fullness of him stealing her breath, making her walls flutter as she adjusts to his length.

Lando’s forehead presses against hers, his lips parting with a violent inhale, his hands squeezing her hips.

“Jesus, baby,” he breathes, voice wrecked, “What buttons did I push?”

She doesn’t reply. Doesn’t move. Neither does he.

They just sit like that, their bodies locked together so perfectly it almost feels cruel to even blink. The fight, the frustration, the teasing… it all fades away in one moment, replaced by something more intense. Something profund.

When she shifts just slightly, Lando whines, feeling the way she clenches around him, and how perfectly they fit together. The thought makes him throb inside her, the heat of her making his pulse race.

She presses her forehead harder against his, her breath shaky. “Baby,” she whispers, “Shit, you feel so good.”

Lando opens his eyes, finding hers already on him.

For a second, he’s happy to simply look at her. Her flushed cheeks, the way her lips are swollen from his kisses, the way she’s barely holding herself together — everything about her is perfection. Then, he lifts her up, and the sudden rush of cool air against his cock makes him moan.

She shrieks at the emptiness, at the way her body aches to take him back. “Please, not now,” she pleads.

Before she can continue, he shoves himself back in, agonizingly slow, making her feel every inch of him as he stretches her again. As a result, her head falls forward, a desperate whimper breaking from her throat.

Lando keeps his eyes on her, his lips brushing against hers as he speaks, “Already falling apart, love? I’ve barely even started.”

She whines, arms wrapping around his neck, hips twitching like she wants more. Much more.

“This what you needed, yes?” Lando taunts, rolling his hips just enough to make her lose her mind. “You gonna stop being a brat now?”

She tries to answer, but all that comes out is a shaky breath. Lando smiles, dragging himself out just to push back in, watching her eyes flutter shut.

“No, no. Keep those pretty eyes open,” he instructs, nipping at her jaw, “Come on. I wanna watch you break for me.”

Because he is absolutely evil, Lando keeps it slow. Too slow.

Every roll of his hips is calculated, dragging himself out so she feel his cock slipping away, then pushing back in deep, filling her up so completely it makes her walls pulsate. She can’t do anything but take it, her senses overwhelmed by him — by the rough drag of his hands on her skin, the warmth of his breath against her lips, the filthy sound of their bodies meeting.

Then his hands move, sliding up from her waist, fingers tracing over her ribs before finally cupping her breasts. It makes her gasp, her back arching into his touch as his thumbs sweep over her nipples, teasing a little, then rolling them between his fingers.

“So sensitive, look at that,” says Lando, his voice thick with lust. “Are you shaking, baby?”

She is. Her thighs tremble where they straddle him, her whole body squeezing him with every slow thrust, every lazy swipe of his thumbs against her skin.

His gaze drops between them, and his breath stutters at the image. “Beautiful.”

She doesn’t understand at first, too lost in how slowly he fucks her, but then he guides her chin down, forcing her to look.

And oh, fuck.

She can see everything: the way her body stretches to take him in, the way she’s dripping down his entire length, making a mess on his lap, and the way her thighs are trembling on each side of him.

Lando’s heart starts beating faster, pressing a hot, open-mouthed kiss to her neck. “See how you’re fucking ruining me?”

She lets out a soft, broken moan, fingers playing absentmindedly with the curls at the back of his head, mostly to anchor herself in the moment.

“Lan…”

“I know, love,” his tongue flicks against her pulse point before he kisses her jaw. “Not so mad at me now, are you?”

Right now? No. She realizes she’s not. She can’t be. Not when he’s touching her like this, fucking into her with such lazy, devastating precision. Not when he’s whispering filth into her ear while looking at her like she’s the only thing in the world that matters.

Her hands move, framing his face, tilting it up so she can kiss him again. But this time, their kiss is different. It’s not angry, not desperate, but tender and loving. A kiss that makes Lando’s grip falter, that steals the breath from his lungs and sends him to a new world that’s only inhabited by them.

She whimpers hungrily against his lips, and that’s what breaks him, because he knows he broke her first.

A guttural moan rumbles from his chest as his fingers dig into her thighs. And then he snaps. “Let me take care of you, baby,” he whispers next to her ear, thrusting into her harder. It takes her by surprise, the way he is holding her so tight like he’s trying to fuse them together. “Need you,” he adds.

The sudden change in pace fractures something in her brain to the point she can’t remember anything else except his name.

“It’s okay you’re mad,” Lando assures her. “You can be as mad as you want, yeah? All day, everyday,” he groans, voice wrecked. “I’m still gonna fuck you like this. Gonna give you exactly what you need. Whenever you need me, love.”

Her head falls back, a loud moan spilling from her lips as he loses himself in her, in the heat, the mess, and the way she clings to him.

“Always gonna take care of my girl,” he promises, sealing the words against her skin. “No matter what.”

She can feel his control slipping in the way his thrusts deepen, the rhythm faltering slightly as his breath becomes gradually uneven. He’s still trying to hold back, but she can tell he’s far from behaving. She feels his cock twitching so deliciously inside her, and the way his hands melt with her skin almost painfully on her hips. Every new sensation makes her dizzy, until it’s too much. The pressure building in her chest, the overwhelming feeling of him inside her, the way his hands start roaming over her skin, and his mouth leaving hot trails across her neck — all too much.

With a shaky breath, she collapses forward, her body unable to keep steady, falling against his chest as her hands slide weakly to his sides.

“I can’t,” she gasps, “Can’t hold myself up.”

Lando’s hands move immediately, his hold firm on her back, and voice filled with a deep urgency, “I got you, baby. You know I do.”

And then he flips them, his strength not-so-surprising as he rolls them onto the couch, her body now on her back with him above her. The new angle makes them both moan in unison, the sudden shift in depth making every movement feel sharper, more intense.

Lando’s hands find her thighs, pulling them apart so he can press deeper, pushing into her with a delicious force that makes her stomach tighten and her toes curl. The sound of their bodies slapping together fills the room — wet, sticky, perfect. Her hands reach up, gripping the back of the couch, her nails scratching at the fabric, trying to keep herself grounded as he fucks her harder.

“Fuck, baby,” Lando groans, his face flushed with sweat, his lips parted as he stares down at her, eyes wild with need. “You’re so fucking perfect, can’t get enough of you.”

She can feel him getting closer, the way his movements grow sloppier, more desperate, but there’s no slowing him down. He’s all in — in her, in the moment, and she can barely breathe under the weight of it all.

The sounds of their passion are unrestrained, loud, their breath ragged and frantic. It’s all they hear now: her moans, his grunts, the soft squeak of the couch beneath them. But as the tension starts to crack, she feels herself spiraling as closer to the edge as he is, and she finally feels the last remnants of her jealousy fade away.

She looks up at him, her vision blurry from the pleasure. “You… winked at the waiter.”

Lando freezes for just a moment, his thrusts shallow, and he looks down at her, confusion flickering in his eyes as he forces himself to regain control. “I did?” he breathes out wildly, his lips twitching with a laugh that’s barely contained.

She moans, biting her lip as she writhes under him, “Yes, when she came back with the wine,” she admits, her voice soft, barely a whisper. “It was so stupid, I wanted to throw it in your face.”

Lando finally laughs, a genuine chuckle, his face still flushed with pleasure. “Always so dramatic, aren’t you?” he asks, leaning down to kiss her lips before pulling back. “Wanted to be mad, but you’re too busy getting fucked to even care now, hm?”

She wants to argue, wants to tell him he’s being a cocky bastard, but the words get lost in the sound of her own moans as his rhythm picks up again, faster this time, his cock hitting places inside her that have her seeing stars.

“Oh,” she gasps, her voice full of the tension and the blinding pressure building in her chest, “I’m so... Fuck. I’m close.”

Lando doesn’t ease off. “I know, baby. I feel it.” He pushes her closer, his hands gripping her legs just right, his thrusts brutal and relentless. “Wanna come for me?”

She doesn’t have enough time to process his words. The wave hits her hard, crashing over her like an unstoppable force, and her body goes taut, every nerve lighting up as she cries out, her back arching off the couch as she cums around him.

And Lando isn’t far behind.

He slams into her once more, and then his head falls on her chest with a groan as he releases, the hot pulse of his cum filling her up just as her own orgasm shakes through her. Breathless, they stay like that, bodies joined, both of them tangled in the aftershocks of their release.

“Next time, don’t wink at other girls if you want to keep your eyes,” she finally says, feeling him softening inside her.

“Next time,” he whispers, still trying to catch his breath, “Don’t go non-verbal on me. You know I didn’t mean it like that.”

She smiles weakly, pressing her lips to his. “You never mean it like that, do you?”

The air between them thickens, leaving behind an almost palpable silence. Affected by her last affirmation, Lando’s hands find home on her skin, the touch light, slightly hesitant, like he’s afraid to disrupt the fragile calm that’s settled between them.

“I’m sorry,” he says.

She traces her fingers through his curls, her body feeling like a flame now, flickering gently after being ignited. There’s a warmth spreading from her chest, outwards, a comfort that soothes the storm inside her. But still, her heart races, and the lingering heat from their connection seems to hum through her veins.

Lando shifts, moving to pull her closer, his arms wrapping around her. She nestles into him, feeling the heat of his skin and the sweat against hers, the warmth of him grounding her.

“You okay?” she hears him again.

“Yeah... just needed a moment to catch my breath,” her voice is a soft murmur in his ears.

Lando smiles weakly, his lips curling with that familiar grin. He brushes a lock of hair from her face, fingers skimming her cheek like a whisper, and the gesture is enough to make her chest tighten.

“You’re everything I need, silly. Always.”

She knows that. And luckily, the storm inside her has subsided. “I’m sorry, too. For being stubborn,” she whispers, her voice full of a quiet vulnerability.

Lando chuckles, “Stubborn is an understatement.”

She lets out a breathless laugh. “Don’t push it.”

His hands, once firm and assertive, now trace delicate patterns over her skin, mapping every curve, every inch of her as though trying to imprint her into his soul. There is no need for words now, not anymore.

As Lando presses another soft kiss to her lips, she remembers why they will always be able to overcome any childish misunderstanding.

“I love you,” she says, her voice steady.

He smiles, feeling a familiar warmth spreading in his chest. And, instead of saying it back, Lando tilts his head slightly, meeting her gaze with a teasing smirk.

Then, he winks at her.

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Thank you for reading!

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1K notes · View notes

chelseeebe · 9 months ago

Text

just a taste

18+. mdni. smut. kinda perv!eddie x fem!reader. he is a lil freaky in this i'll admit.

a/n: i just love the idea of the citrus six all living together lol idk i think it’s so nice also i have never watched cheers i just googled 1991 american tv shows and picked one at random LMAO ++ for the movie, i thought it’d be a nice lil easter egg for them to watch something with winona in:,)

✧･ﾟ: ✧･ﾟ:

eddie doesn’t know who you are or why you’re coming to visit or why exactly it was him that was being made to vacate his room for the two weeks that you were here.

“c’mon eddie,” robin pleads, nay, demands, “you sleep on the couch most nights anyway, what’s the difference?”

“uh, maybe because it’s my room? i don’t want some random girl in there touching my stuff,” almost flabbergasted that she’s even asking.

“she’s not a random girl,” robin frowns, “she’s my friend and she needs somewhere to stay.”

“tell her there’s a great hotel in town,” rolling his eyes, trying to leave the conversation before she breaks out the puppy dog eyes. "i'll even give her a ride if you ask nicely," no longer interested in entertaining this conversation.

“i’ll give you fifty bucks,” robin deadpans, using her last resort.

this was bribery of the highest order but eddie's not stupid. fifty bucks is fifty bucks.

“now?”

she sighs, sliding her wallet from her pocket to reluctantly hand over the bill. she stops just before it touches his palm, “promise you’ll clean your room.”

eddie goes to grab the paper but robin’s faster, jolting her hand into the air, “and change your sheets.”

“okay,” he huffs, holding his palm outstretched.

she graciously places the note down, smiling wickedly as she does so before skipping off back to her own room.

he can only roll his eyes, turning around to the shit hole that was his room, wondering if fifty dollars was worth having to tackle it.

eddie’s sat on the couch when you arrive, barely looking back as robin begins to fuss, talking loudly about your journey. he doesn’t really care enough to involve himself, besides, elvis presley had just given sam a very important message.

“eddie,” robin hisses, standing in front of the screen, “don’t be rude, say hello,” her hands firmly on her hips like she was his mother or something.

he looks up at the looming figure by the couch, hoping his eyes hadn’t given his immediate shock away too much.

you flash him a sheepish smile back, waggling your fingers in a short wave.

two weeks on the couch didn’t seem so bad now.

not if you were sleeping in his bed.

it’s just a shame that he wouldn’t be in there sharing it.

“hey,” he stands, hoping to indiscreetly catch his breath, “i’m- uh, i’m eddie,” offering his hand out, though he regrets it as soon as it’s done.

who shakes hands now? christ. he needed to get a grip, and badly.

“hey,” you reply, your name dripping from your tongue. though you do shake his hand, not bothering to hide your confusion in the process.

“eddie very kindly said you could have his room,” a bright, big sarcastic smile on her lips.

“yeah.. no biggie..” christ, he’s almost panting. “do whatever you want in there.. or you know, just- just make yourself at home.”

his desperate pleas for the earth to split open and swallow him whole go unanswered. instead, robin shoots him a concerned glare before ushering you away from his weird, longing gaze.

'pull it together loser' she mouths before disappearing, leaving him to reflect upon how utterly hard he had just fumbled that entire situation.

when everyone’s home from work and you’ve exchanged niceties and greetings with the rest of the house, robin brightly suggests a movie.

eddie usually hated movie nights in the house.

jonathan would want to watch some indie cult classic that no one else had ever heard of, steve wanted to watch some dumb comedy that only he’d find funny and then nancy and robin typically opted for the romance genre.

leaving eddie and argyle with absolutely no choice but to sit in silence as they bickered.

tonight it’s different, you get to pick.

and now he’s not saying that whatever you choose will forever change the way he views you but.. well, that’s actually exactly it.

you land on edward scissorhands.

not the worst choice you could’ve made, and hey, his mom used to call him edward when he was in real bad trouble.

in the end, it doesn’t really matter what you had picked because eddie can’t muster up enough energy to actually care about the film. not while your thighs are peeking out from underneath your oversized shirt. he can’t help but wonder what they’d feel like wrapped around his ears. what previous sounds would fall out of your mouth in response.

at some point during the movie, you stand up and walk out of the room to the kitchen but that doesn’t stop him. staring through the open door, marvelling at the way the hem of your shirt lifts, exposing the tiny shorts you had on underneath.

he’s practically hanging over the back of the couch to get a look, craning his neck at a ninety degree angle just to get a glimpse of your soft, pillowy skin. pinching himself as he tries to resist the urge to just sink his teeth into your inner thigh.

robin jabs her elbow into his ribcage, drawing his eyes back to the room with a grunt and a harsh glare thrown her way.

“you’ve been staring at her all night,” she whispers angrily into his ear, “stop it, or next time it’s your balls,” a harsh warning he didn’t find entirely necessary.

you sidle back into the room, drink in hand and eddie can’t help but let his eyes wander over again, short glances that robin hopefully wouldn’t pick up on.

he can’t help it, some magnetic force swaying his gaze in your direction. he wishes so badly that he could just crawl out of his head and tell you how much he wanted you.

unfortunately for eddie, he’d instead spend the night dreaming of your ass and all the ways he could have you if he’d only grow a backbone.

living alongside you is an entirely new feat eddie’s not sure he’ll survive.

it’s torturous.

testing the limits of how ridiculously horny one man can get without self-imploding.

so close and yet so far. each night you’d tuck yourself into his bed, doing god knows what in between his sheets all without eddie getting a look in.

of course he’d made up a hundred different scenarios to fall asleep to each night.

his favourite being the one where he walks into his bedroom to find you mouth open, legs apart, too encapsulated in your pleasure to notice him. only until you do, inviting him closer, between those supple thighs of yours, a forbidden nirvana he’ll never get to know.

though more often than not he’s cruelly forced back into reality by robin ripping the curtains open at the ass crack of dawn, blaring sunlight on his face as you slip away from the grapples of his dream land.

now is his opportunity, the house quiet, bar the muffled giggles of you and robin upstairs. he’s safe for now, he thinks, rather foolishly. it’s late, the rest of them asleep or too busy in their own rooms to catch him in the act.

eddie’s never done anything like this before. it’s disgusting, perverted to the core.

good grief, this is prosecutable behaviour.

tiptoeing down the hall to his room, the door open just a crack, enticing him in further. he can still hear you on the floor above, giving him enough confidence to push it open a little more, edging inside with a quick glance back down the hall, just in case.

gratefully it seemed that you were just as messy as he was, your clothes strewn across the floor. his eyes immediately turning to the peeking of lace from under the pile. glancing one last time at the cracked door, ensuring that absolutely nobody would see him.

reaching down to gather the fabric in one quick swoop, bunching them in his palm as he lets out a quick sigh of relief.

oh fuck. they were so soft, fingers spreading to really get a feel. he wasn't even going to take them, he'd just wanted a little look, something to help his overactive imagination get all the important details right.

“what are you doing?” startling him in this precarious position, the lace of your underwear entangled around his fingertips.

eddie freezes, he can feel the heat rising through his chest, all the way up to the tips of his ears. scarlet red.

“uh.. i..i-i don’t know..” he hasn’t done anything like this before, he swears.

your mouth is open in a sort of half-smirk, half-perplexed gawp, closing the door before he could bolt.

you move around the mess, creeping closer until he can feel you brushing against his side, peering over into his hand.

“oh wow..” you remark, breath hot and sweet against his cheek, “what were you gonna do with those?”

eddie feels sick, trying not to projectile vomit across his room. there’s no way you wouldn’t tell robin. fuck. he could hear you now, voice full of disgust, robin laughing at how pathetic he was.

“n-nothing i swear..” stumbling through his sentence, “i was just..” excuses fail to come to mind, “i was uhm.. looking for something,” the absolute best his flustered mind to muster up.

“oh really?” reaching around to untangle them from his hand, “you sure about that?”

there’s no anger to your voice, but he doesn’t dare turn around to look at your face. afraid of what he’ll find. your eyes pitying, sad that he has to root around your dirty laundry to get off.

“i’m- i’m sure,” though the crack in his voice gives him away.

you hum, coming around to stand in front of his gormless face, “so you don’t wanna keep these?” holding the evidence up to his face, the hem just barely grazing his cheek.

eddie’s knees almost buckle, his breath shuddering as any semblance of composure he had left, floats right out the window.

“here,” reaching forward to tuck the baby blue fabric into the waistband of his sweatpants, your eyes never once leaving his as you do so. “you keep those.. but next time just ask, okay?”

he nods like an obedient dog, lapping up the scraps you were throwing him. he could stand here all night long, keeping up the weird little power game you’d started.

“goodnight eddie,” you smile, giving him a gentle nudge, a sign for him to get the fuck out.

you were the master, he was just the lap dog, eager to please.

at breakfast the next morning, he struggles to even keep his eyes open. having spent an embarrassingly long amount of time on the couch last night shamelessly sniffing the lace you’d gifted him.

you don’t even acknowledge it, or him for that matter. happily chatting along with nancy about some news article.

“oh and eddie,” robin begins, flashing him a stern look, “i don’t appreciate finding your fucking panties in between the couch cushions,”

he chokes on his mouthful, his knife clattering against the table in shock. a multitude of eyes turn to stare at the spectacle he was making.

“they’re- they’re not mine,” clearing his throat as he clears his name, though he doesn’t dare look in your direction, terrified that he’d absolutely lose his mind if he did.

“well whoever’s they are, i don’t care, stop leaving them on the couch.. i’m sure our guest doesn’t want to sit amongst dirty underwear,” she bites, calming down now she had gotten her point across.

if only she knew.

eddie must’ve fallen asleep with them still attached to his hand, thanking his lucky stars that no one had walked in on him with them pressed to his nose.

he keeps his head low, focusing on the plate in front of him. nothing had ever been as mortifying as this. not even the time he had slipped off the dinner table in the middle of the cafeteria.

cutlery scrapes and clinks against the china, uncomfortable silence until argyle clears his throat, “gnarly meal robin, thanks dude,” seemingly settling the tense atmosphere, for now.

everybody hums in agreement, getting back to their food without another word. but your eyes peek up, meeting his with an indescribable glint. and really, the worst part is that eddie would sit through this horrific situation a hundred more times, just for one more measly sniff at your panties.

eddie can’t take it anymore.

he’s never been so pent up in his entire life. and he’s tried to hold on until he could move back into his room but he couldn’t last any longer.

but he’s careful, waiting for everyone to trundle on off to bed, listening carefully for the muted click of the light switch and even then, waiting another hour to be sure.

the clock glares an alarming 1:04 by the time his belt clinks and his jeans come down, the first of them would be awake in just a few hours, ready to take you on to the airport.

he wishes it would’ve played out differently, that he wouldn’t be sat here on the last night of your stay alone. but alas, eddie’s never been particularly brave and especially not in regards to hot women.

your panties wrapped around his right hand as he spits on his left, wrapping around his stiff cock while his fingertips play with the lace in his other hand.

“ohh fuck,” he hisses, wanting nothing more than to start hollering the house down.

robin wouldn’t be too pleased if she ever found out what he’d done. and he can’t really afford to get the entire couch dry-cleaned so he really must be careful.

thinking quick, he shoves his t-shirt into his mouth, muffling the chorus of grunts and groans threatening to spill over into the dark room. the muted light from the tv illuminates his face, breathing loudly through his nose

he hadn’t heard the door open or the soft sound of your feet padding down the hall, only made aware of your presence when he reopens his eyes, near enough jumping out of his bones.

how long had you been there watching him shudder and whine?

“fuck,” he exclaims, fist still wrapped tight around his throbbing cock, too aroused to care about it too much.

“you want some help with that?”

eddie looks at his dick, then back at you, mouth hung open in a mixture of awe and confusion.

it’s not very clear but you move closer anyway, sinking to your knees and nestling in between his spread legs.

“okay?” maintaining eye contact despite how difficult it was, eyes bright and eager.

he nods, unable to comprehend what was happening. knowing he’d wake up from this twisted dream to some soggy boxers and a whole lotta shame.

your palm wraps around the base of his cock, shooing his hands away to make room, smiling as your lips wrap around the already leaking tip. were you a psychopath? were you placed on this earth to goad and tease him?

this isn’t real. this isn’t real. the voice repeats around his head though it’s quickly silenced by your tongue swirling circles around the tip of his cock, readjusting his t-shirt to bite down harshly on the fabric.

eddie’s hands lay useless on his thighs, twitching to intertwine with your hair, still doubting the reality of the situation. this could all be a dream and the second he touches your hair, you’d disappear from in front of his eyes.

the t-shirt falls from his lips, “fuuck,” grunting into the tense air, gritting his teeth so as to not expose your precarious position to the rest of the house.

the wet sounds of your lips wrapped tight around his cock make his toes curl, his hands find your hair, not without prompting from you. tugging gently at the tendrils as his head starts to spin.

when your eyes look up to meet his, eddie thinks he might just cum right down your throat then and there. he can see that troublesome glint in your eye, a roaring fire that he so desperately wants to keep stoking.

your fingers slide up his thigh, finding his neglected balls and with a slight smirk, you grab ahold, gently fondling them as his brain melts out of his ears.

no one had ever, ever made him feel so good. collectively losing brain cells when you hum on his cock, getting just as much out of this as he was.

“oh yeah, fuck- shit fuck, i’mcummingi’mcummingi’mcumming,” eddie’s mouth rushes, louder than he ever should’ve been. bright flashes of light fill his peripheral, using your scalp as leverage to keep himself on the couch.

his hips stutter, thrusting into your mouth with his fingers tight in your hair, yanking harshly in an effort to get your lips off of him before he came everywhere.

you don’t budge, nails digging into his thigh as his release seeps down your throat, his eyes squeezing shut as his fist instinctively comes up to muffle his mouth, moaning into his clammy palm instead of alerting the entire house.

eddie’s other hand lets go of his strong hold on your hair, allowing you to get off of his dick, panting happily as you sit up between his knees and with lips glistening with his release, you kiss him. all soft and gentle while his brain fails to compute.

it should be gross. but eddie just can’t find it in himself to care, because in reality, this was the hottest thing that had ever happened in his measly little life.

“please let me taste you,” he begs between kisses, grasping desperately at your waist, the fabric of your shirt slipping between his desperate fingers.

you giggle, pulling back to look at him through the dimmed light, “not now,” you hover just above, constantly teasing and unobtainable

“well when?" jutting his bottom lip out in hopes it'd convince you to change your mind.

"when i'm back," letting him down gently. eddie'd count the seconds till you came back if that was what it took to get even a tiny glimpse of your pussy.

“what time do you leave?” he pants, chasing your lips. eddie was nothing if not a chancer, though if it hadn't happened already, there's a miniscule chance of it happening now.

“seven,” whispering back, a hint of annoyance that this build up had only crescendoed now, just as you were about to leave. he'll blame robin for that, poking her nose in and trying to turn him off. it shouldn't have worked. he should've been braver.

“but it’s your turn,” an awful sadness and regret overcoming him. someone better, someone like steve, would've had you pinned to that couch by now, his head between your thighs and your slick dripping down his chin.

“next time,” only repeating yourself, smiling coyly before you plant one last kiss to his longing lips before standing fully upright and disappearing back off to his room, leaving him reeling with a story nobody else would ever believe.

#eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x you #eddie munson stranger things

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7brownsuga7 · 1 month ago

Note

Hii 😊

If you’re taking requests can I please request jungkook first time with no condom and he makes her squirt for the first time, they go for a second round bc jungkook is obsessed 💋😌 size kink + praise kink 🫣.

Also I LOVE YOUR WORK ❣️ read all your fics, literally slay !! 🌟 take care 🤍

First of all thank you so much ily🫶🏽 lm so happy you enjoy my work, I hope you like this one too. I decided to make it extra long since it’s been time since I’ve last did one. You take care too 💋

Notes: MDNI!!! Idk guys I kind of fell in love with Jungkook all over again after writing this. Possessive + desperate Jungkook. He works you tf out! Also sorry if I repeated a lot of shit here I was tired as FUCK writing this!! (Word count 4k+)

The city hummed softly beyond the apartment window, neon lights casting a warm glow against the walls. You leaned back against the couch, stretching your legs across Jungkook’s lap as the remainders of a half watched movie played quietly in the background. The night had started simple, takeout containers scattered across the coffee table, easy conversation flowing the way it always did when you were with him.

But there was something different in the air tonight. Something heavier.

Jungkook’s hand rested on your thigh, his fingers absentmindedly tracing small circles against your skin. It was innocent enough - or maybe you were just telling yourself that. Because the way his touch lingered a little too long, the way his eyes flickered to your lips every time you spoke, made it impossible to ignore the heat pooling low in your stomach.

“You’re quiet,” he murmured, his voice smooth and low as he tilted his head to study you.

You realised he did that a lot - study you. It made you nervous especially because you didn’t know what he was thinking.

You swallowed, willing yourself to play it cool despite the rapid rhythm of your heartbeat.

“Just… thinking.”

His lips curved into a small smile, one that sent a shiver down your spine. “About what?”

You hesitated, your teeth sinking into your bottom lip. About how good you look right now. About how badly I want you. But you didn’t say any of that. Instead, you shrugged lightly, pretending like his thumb dragging along your inner thigh wasn’t making your thoughts spiral.

Jungkook chuckled softly, but there was something darker behind it - something knowing. He shifted beneath you, leaning closer until his face was mere inches from yours. “You sure that’s all?” His eyes slightly squinting daringly.

His breath was warm against your skin, and suddenly, the space between you felt unbearably small. The tension that had been simmering beneath the surface for weeks - months, was finally threatening to spill over.

You could feel the wetness between your legs as your eyes shifted towards his ajar lips for a second, you bite your own absentmindedly.

“You’re doing it again,” he said, his voice softer now.

“Doing what?”

“Biting your lip like that.” His eyes dipped down, watching as you sucked it between your teeth. “You know it drives me crazy.”

Your pulse quickened at his words, and you felt your walls start to crumble. You should’ve been used to this - teasing, flirting, the constant push and pull - but tonight felt different. More intense. Like you were standing on the edge of something you couldn’t take back.

“You wanna know what I’m thinking?” you asked quietly, surprising yourself with the boldness in your tone.

Jungkook’s hand tightened on your thigh, his dark eyes locking with yours. “Yeah,” he breathed. “Tell me.”

For a second, you hesitate, the way he was looking at you like he was barely holding himself together, was the thing that almost shattered the last of your restraint. Before you could say anything, he says, “should I tell you what I’ve been thinking about?”

He could tell you were hesitant to say whatever was on your mind. He had a feeling what it was - or more so hoped it was the same thing he’s been thinking about since he can remember.

You look at him surprised. “It’s something that constantly consumes my mind actually…” he continues, brown eyes never leaving yours.

He tries to hold back the slight chuckle that fights to escape his lips - seeing the way you perk up at this new discovery.

You’re so cute.

“I’m thinking about how much I want you,” he admits, the words tumbling out. He’s wanted to tell you this for the longest, he’s usually very bold with his words so the fact he’s managed to keep this on for so long has both surprised and killed him. “And how long I’ve been trying to pretend I don’t.”

Your breath hitched - just for a moment, but it was enough to make his stomach twist. Shit. Maybe you didn’t feel the same. Did he completely fuck this up?

When you make no move to speak, he slowly starts to sit back. Embarrassment creeping in. He didn’t think about the rejection part.

His moves come to a halt when your fingers grab his shoulders. “No no no, wait” you hurriedly speak. You were in such shock that you forgot to reply.

“I feel the same too. I just, I-“

And then, before you could say anything else, his hand slid higher, his fingers brushing against the hem of your shorts.

“You have no idea,” he murmured, leaning in until his lips hovered over yours, “how long I’ve been waiting for you to say that.” He couldn’t help but to bask in this excitement of his, grinning like a mad man. But everything changes when your fingers move towards his hair, playing with the dark strands like you usually did - but this time it was different, more intimate.

“For someone that’s usually so bold - why is it taking you so long to kiss me?” You mumble not missing the way his eyes grow big with shock at your sudden words.

To be fair, all he needed was your permission and he was on you like wildfire. All the times he’s fantasised about this moment and now he is actually living in it, oh yeah he couldn’t be anymore eager.

The hard on in his pants proves just that.

His lips crash on to yours with so much eagerness that it almost startles you. Almost - because just like him you were eager too. The feel of his lips as they work against yours is enough to make you moan. He groans at the sound of it - hands roaming your body, savouring every touch.

Too desperate for his touch, you whisper, “Touch me”. Even though his hands had already explored almost every inch of your body, still you craved more, more attention where you ached the most.

It’s not that his lips on yours weren’t enough - because fuck, they were. But your other lips needed him too.

Your sudden boldness this evening takes him by surprise. Usually, he’s the blunt one.

But he knows exactly what you mean.

His eyes darken, the shock fading into something far more dangerous, something hungry. Without a word, his hand trails lower, fingers brushing the edge of your underwear, teasing, like he wants to make you beg for it.

“You want me here?” he asks, voice low and rough, his fingers barely grazing where you throb. The question is almost mocking - he already knows the answer.

You nod, biting your lip to hold back a whimper, but that isn’t enough for him.

“Say it again,” he demands, his mouth ghosting over your jaw, breath hot against your skin. “Tell me exactly what you want.”

Your heart pounds in your chest as heat coils low in your stomach. You’re already melting beneath his touch, but the way he’s holding back, like he wants you to break first - has you trembling.

“Touch me,” you repeat, voice softer this time, but no less desperate. “Please.”

A low groan escapes him as if your plea snaps whatever restraint he was holding on to. His fingers slip beneath the thin fabric, and the moment he touches you - really touches you, you let out a gasp, your body arching into his hand.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, his lips curling into a wicked smile as he starts to give you exactly what you asked for.

His fingers move slowly at first, sliding through your wetness with an agonising patience that makes your whole body tense. He’s teasing you - taking his time like he wants to see just how much you can handle.

“You’re so wet,” he murmurs, almost to himself, like he’s in awe. His lips find your neck, dragging hot, open-mouthed kisses along your skin while his fingers circle that aching spot, just barely giving you what you need.

It’s not enough. Not even close.

A frustrated whimper escapes you, your hips shifting instinctively, chasing more friction. He chuckles softly against your neck, clearly enjoying how desperate you are beneath him.

“Impatient?” he teases, but his voice is rough, strained, like holding back is starting to get to him too.

“Yes,” you breathe, no longer caring how needy you sound. “I want more.”

His breath stutters for a moment, all the control he’s had shifting immediately. Without warning, his fingers press deeper, sliding inside you in one smooth, perfect motion. The stretch has you gasping, your body arching into him as he curls his fingers just right.

“Is this what you wanted?” he asks, watching your face closely, like he wants to memorise every reaction.

You nod quickly, words slipping from your lips in a broken moan. “Yes please, don’t stop.”

He doesn’t. If anything, your begging only fuels him. His pace quickens, fingers working you open while his thumb finds your clit, rubbing slow, deliberate circles that have your thighs trembling.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, voice thick with desire. “Falling apart for me. So pretty when you’re like this.”

The heat building inside you tightens, overwhelming and electric, and you know you’re close, so close it’s almost unbearable. He can tell, too. The way your body clenches around his fingers only makes him work you harder, chasing your release like it’s the only thing that matters.

“Come for me,” he whispers, his mouth brushing against yours. “I want to feel it.”

And with one last stroke - deep and perfect - you do. The pleasure crashes over you in an overwhelming wave, your whole body trembling as his name falls from your lips, breathless and broken.

He doesn’t stop until he’s released every last drop of pleasure from you, watching you fall apart with a look that’s nothing short of possessive. Your body finally relaxes beneath him, a shaking mess. H leans down to kiss you - slow and deep, like he’s already planning to do it all over again.

Your pulse is still racing, body trembling as you try to catch your breath, but he isn’t finished with you. Not even close.

Before you can fully come down, his lips trail lower, leaving a path of soft, lingering kisses down your body. Every touch feels electric, like he’s determined to keep you on edge, to push you even further.

“You can take more, can’t you?” voice low and smooth, but there’s an edge to it - a challenge.

Your body is already oversensitive, but the hunger in his eyes makes your stomach twist with excitement. You nod, barely able to form words, and that’s all the encouragement he needs.

He moves between your thighs without hesitation, spreading you open as if you belong to him. And when his mouth finally meets you -warm and demanding, you let out a broken moan, your fingers tangling in his hair.

“Fuck Jungkook” The words fall from your lips as he licks a slow, deliberate stripe over your most sensitive spot, his tongue working you with the same devastating precision as his fingers.

He hums against you, pleased by your reaction, and the sound of his name leaving your lips. He never thought he’d hear you call his name in this intimate situation - he’s dreamed it, fantasised but to actually hear it, so desperate and fucked out has him relishing in it. The vibration sends another pulse of pleasure through you. Your hips twitch, but his hands hold you down firmly, like he doesn’t plan on letting you escape.

“You taste so good,” he murmurs between kisses, his breath warm against your skin. “I could do this all night.”

He gives kisses to your inner thighs before going right back in.

The intensity is almost too much, and yet you don’t want him to stop. Every flick of his tongue, every soft suck, pulls you closer to that sharp edge again - you’re helpless against the rush building inside you.

Your hands tighten in his hair as your body starts to shake again, your thighs threatening to close around his head, but he doesn’t slow down. If anything, the way you’re falling apart beneath him only makes him work you harder.

“You’re gonna come for me again,” he says, voice rough and commanding. “I want to feel you lose control.”

His words alone send another wave of heat crashing through you, and when he sucks your clit between his lips, it’s too much. Your body tenses, pleasure ripping through you with the upmost amount of force, and you cry out his name as you come undone all over again.

He doesn’t pull away - not for a while even as you’re there trembling, body completely worn out. Only then does he lift his head, his lips glossy, eyes dark and full of heat as he takes in the sight of you - wrecked and breathless beneath him.

“You’re so pretty like this,” he repeats, crawling back up your body to capture your lips in a deep, possessive kiss. “But I’m not done with you yet.”

More? You think to yourself , unsure if your body can take any more.

His kiss is rough, deep and claiming - like he’s determined to remind you exactly who’s making you fall apart like this. You’re still breathless, body sensitive and trembling beneath him, but the way he presses against you - hard and heavy, makes it clear he isn’t anywhere near finished.

The weight of his body against yours is intoxicating, but it’s his hardened cock between his legs that steals your breath. It’s thick and heavy, pressing against your thigh through the thin fabric still separating you.

You want him. All of him. And judging by the way his fingers curl possessively around your hips, he wants you just as badly.

“Please,” you whisper, your voice soft but full of need. “I want to feel you.”

Your words make something snap inside him. In one smooth motion, he sits back on his heels, dragging his shirt over his head and tossing it aside. The sight of him, his toned chest rising and falling with each heavy breath, only makes the ache between your thighs grow stronger.

“You’re so fucking beautiful,” he says, his gaze never leaving yours as his hands move to his waistband. He takes his time, teasing you with the slow drag of his zipper before finally pushing his jeans down.

When he frees himself, your breath catches. He’s thick, hard, and already leaking at the tip - evidence of just how much he wants you. And the way he strokes himself lazily, eyes locked on you like you’re his favorite thing to ruin, makes your whole body burn.

“You want this?” he asks, voice low and dark, like he needs to hear you say it.

“Yes,” you breathe, spreading your thighs wider in invitation. “I need you.”

“I don’t…” His voice is rough, strained. “I don’t have a condom.”

The words hang in the air, heavy with meaning. But instead of worry, all you feel is a deeper ache, the need for him overwhelming any rational thought.

“I want to feel you,” you admit softly, tilting your head back to meet his gaze. “All of you.”

His breath catches in his throat, and for a moment, he just looks at you like you’ve completely undone him. “You sure?”

“I’m sure”

His expression shifts as something darker, more possessive flashes in his eyes. “Fuck, baby… You’re gonna make me lose my mind.”

He moves back over you, one hand bracing beside your head while the other guides himself to your entrance. The blunt tip of him presses against your sweet pussy, and your whole body tenses with anticipation.

“Look at me,” he softly demands, and when your eyes meet his, he pushes in. Slow and deep, he’s stretching you inch by inch until he’s buried fully inside of you.

The stretch burns perfectly, leaving you breathless, and a broken moan escapes you as he sinks all the way in. He pauses, his body shaking against yours as he feels the heat of your bare walls clenching around him.

“Fuck, you’re so tight”

He leans down, pressing a kiss to your jaw before whispering, “You feel so good like this - so warm, so wet. And the way you squeeze me.” His voice drifts off as if in a trance.

His hips roll slowly, deliberately, making sure you feel every inch of him stretching you open. “I’m not gonna last if you keep clenching like that,” he groans.

A sharp gasp falls from your lips at the fullness, and he groans low in his throat, his head dropping to the curve of your neck. “Fuck, you feel so good. So tight around me.”

He gives you a moment to adjust, his breath heavy and ragged against your skin, but the way your walls clench around him makes it impossible for him to stay still for long.

Each roll of his hips brushes against that perfect spot inside you, and soon, your nails are digging into his back, silently begging him for more.

The slick, wet sound of him moving inside you fills the room.

“You like that?” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your ear. “The way I stretch you open - filling you so deep?”

“Yes, fuck yes,” you moan, your legs wrapping around his waist to pull him even closer.

His rhythm quickens. His thrusts harder and more deliberate, the sound of skin against skin sounding through the room making it all the more hot and intimate. His grip on your hips tightens as he drives into you, chasing both your pleasure with an intensity that leaves you breathless.

“Touch yourself,” he orders suddenly, his voice rough with need. “I want to feel you come while I’m inside you.”

The demand sends a fresh wave of heat through you, and with trembling fingers, you reach between your bodies to find that aching spot. The combined sensation of his deep, forceful thrusts and the pressure against your clit pushes you closer, so close you can barely hold on.

“Good girl,” he praises, watching you with dark, hungry eyes. “You’re doing so well, taking me so perfectly.”

His words, his touch - everything about him has you spiraling toward the edge. Your body tightens around him, and he groans at the sensation, his thrusts growing rougher, more desperate.

Your nails dig into his shoulders. The pressure inside you coils tighter and tighter.

“You’re close” he growls, and it’s not a question, it’s a promise.

“Come for me. Let me feel you.”

“Please,” you whimper, the pressure creeping up fast.

“I’m so close.”

His thrusts grow rougher, his breath coming in ragged pants as he chases your release with relentless precision.

“Come for me, baby,” he urges, his voice cracking with how desperate he is to feel you come around him.

“Show me how much you love being stretched, being fucked raw.”

The combination of his cock hitting that devastating spot inside you and his filthy words pushes you over the edge. Your body reacts instantly, your back arching, legs trembling as the pleasure explodes through you. And then it happens. The release hits so hard and fast, you don’t even have time to hold back.

A cry falls from your lips as you squirt around him, soaking his cock and thighs in a hot, messy rush. Your whole body shakes with the force of it, and the feeling of you squirting for him drives him insane.

He wasn’t expecting that - and by the looks of your startled face, you didn’t either.

“Fuck! that’s it, baby,” he groans, his rhythm stuttering as your tight, wet heat pulls him deeper. “God, you’re perfect. So messy for me, so fucking good.” A strangled moan escapes him as he feels you drench him again, and his whole body shudders. He swears he’s in love.

He slows down, letting you ride out your orgasm while his hands stroke over your trembling thighs. But his cock is still hard - still twitching inside you, and his hunger is nowhere near satisfied.

He’s obsessed with the way you fall apart, the way your body gives itself to him completely.

“You’re so perfect,” he breathes, his voice strained as he watches you in all your glory, his fingers working you through the oversensitivity as you couldn’t continue to do it after your orgasm. “So fucking beautiful when you come like that for me.”

His hips falter, and a broken sound escapes his throat as he loses himself entirely, thrusting deep one last time as he spills inside you. The warmth of it, the raw intimacy, only adds to the dizzying high as your body clings to his, milking every last drop.

For a while, the only sound in the room is your heavy breathing, synced together.

When he finally finds his voice again, it’s softer but still a hint of desperation behind it.

“I don’t want to let you go,” he confesses, pressing a few soft kisses along your shoulder. “I want to keep you like this, full of me, until you can’t take anymore.”

He’s still buried inside you, thick, hard, and twitching with need, even after spilling himself deep. But there’s no sign of him slowing down. If anything, feeling you squirt around him, soaking his cock, has only made him more obsessed.

His weight warm and comforting as he presses a soft kiss to your forehead.

“You okay?”

You nod, a lazy smile curling on your lips as you meet his gaze. “More than okay.”

His expression softens, and he leans down to kiss you again, slower this time, like he’s savoring every second. And as he holds you close, it’s clear neither of you is quite ready to let go.

His lips trace your jaw, then your neck, teeth scraping just enough to make you shiver. Even after everything, he’s still hard inside you, and the way his hips roll, slow and deliberate, makes it clear he isn’t nearly finished.

His hands trail possessively over your hips, squeezing like he’s memorizing every inch of your body. When he pulls back slightly and pushes in again, deeper than before, a broken moan escapes your lips. The stretch still makes you gasp, like your body was made to take him.

“I can’t stop,” he whispers, voice rough and needy as his lips drag across your shoulder.

“I don’t want to stop, I need you again.”

His words send a shiver down your spine, and you clench around him instinctively, making him groan, like he’s barely holding himself together.

“You feel so good”

The thought drives him wild, knowing his release is still deep inside you, mixing with your wetness.

His hips twitch, pushing deeper, and he lets out a ragged breath when your walls pulse around him.

“I love you like this,” he confesses, no trace of shame in his voice.

“Messy, mine. I don’t want to pull out. I want to stay inside you forever.”

He knows he sounds pathetic, but that’s exactly how you make him. He was even pathetic before he knew what you felt like, and now that he’s got a taste, he’s long gone.

The intensity of his words makes your head spin, and the raw need in his voice only ignites the fire between your legs. You’re still sensitive and aching from how hard he already made you come - multiple times, but his desperation is infectious.

“You can have me”

In one swift motion, he pulls out, only to flip you onto your stomach, dragging your hips up until you’re on your knees. His hand presses against your lower back, holding you in place, while the other strokes over your thigh in a possessive and firm action.

“You look so perfect like this,” he breathes, dragging the tip of his cock along your slick folds, teasing you until you’re trembling with need. “Like you’re made for me.”

Without warning, he thrusts back inside you deep, pulling another strained moan from your lips. The angle has him hitting deeper, rougher, and the utter force of it leaves you gasping.

“Fuck, so tight,” he groans, his fingers digging into your hips as he sets a brutal rhythm. Every thrust is deliberate, claiming, like he wants to leave his mark on every inch of you.

And god, you want it too.

“You feel me, don’t you?” he mutters, leaning forward until his chest presses against your back, his breath hot against your ear. “Deep inside, stretching you open.”

“Yes,” you gasp, your fingers curling into the leather fabric of the sofa as your body melts under his relentless pace. “I feel you everywhere.”

He chuckles low and dark, clearly satisfied by how wrecked you already are. But it’s not enough - no, not for him. His hand slides around your body, fingers finding your clit with devastating precision, and the combination of his touch and the way he’s filling you sends sparks shooting through your veins.

“Let me hear you,” he demands, his tone leaving no room for disobedience. “I want to know how good I make you feel.”

You can’t hold back, not with the way he’s fucking you. Your moans spill freely, desperate, and it only seems to egg him on. His thrusts grow harder, faster, until the sound of skin meeting skin fills the room again.

A sharp curse falls from his lips. He pulls out just enough to thrust back in, like he needs to remind himself that you’re his.

“You drive me fucking crazy,”

“I can’t get enough, I’ll never get enough.”

“I want to feel you fall apart for me again,” he begs, voice breaking as his hips snap against yours.

“Please, please, baby, let me feel you.”

The raw need in his voice, the way he’s clinging to you like he’s afraid to let go, it’s too much. Your body tightens around him, the pressure building fast and intense, making you tremble beneath him.

“I’m close, fuck, I’m so close,” you gasp, as your legs begin to shake.

“Come for me,” he pleads, his thrusts becoming erratic as his own release hovers just out of reach. “I need it, I need to feel you.”

“Fuck, baby”

His words shoot straight through you, making your walls flutter around his cock. He feels it immediately, and a low, satisfied chuckle escapes him as he thrusts deeper, making sure you feel every inch.

“You love it, don’t you? Being stretched out by me, so full you can barely handle it.”

You nod, breathless and trembling beneath him.

“Yeah?” he breathes, one hand slipping down to your stomach, pressing gently against the bulge he’s making inside you. “Right here, baby? Can you feel how deep I am?”

The pressure makes your head fall back with a choked moan, your whole body burning from the inside out.

“That’s my good girl,” he praises, his voice dripping with pride and possession. “Letting me fuck you raw, letting me fill you up.”

His neediness takes over, and he can’t seem to get close enough, his chest close against your back as he grinds deeper.

“I’m gonna ruin you,” he promises, voice shaking with how much he wants it. “Keep you full, keep you messy, until you can’t think of anything but me.”

His words unravel you, and he knows it. His thumb circles your clit again, too sensitive and too good all at once, and you can’t stop your body from trembling as another wave of pleasure continues to build. A low, satisfied groan escapes him, and his pace grows almost punishing, every thrust hitting that perfect spot inside you, dragging you higher and higher. Your legs tremble more, the pleasure building too quickly, too intensely.

“You’re gonna come for me again, aren’t you?” he teases.

His fingers speed up, and the coil inside you snaps violently. The orgasm tears through you like a lightning strike, and suddenly, you’re cumming around him again, clenching around him.

“Fuck” he groans. With one final, deep thrust, he buries himself, his body trembling as he spills inside you, marking you, claiming you in every way.

For a moment, neither of you moves, your bodies tangled together. Finally he speaks again, his voice is softer, but no less intense.

“I meant it,” he presses a kiss to your shoulder. “You’re mine, and I’m not letting you go.”

And from the way his body is still pressed against yours, you know he plans to prove it.

- mimi 💋

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quarterlifekitty · 5 months ago

Note

first, im a bit new to cod but idk…

thinking about ghost’s spouse visiting him on base or some shit, and everyone else wondering how tf he was emotionally flexible enough to bag a bad bitch 🫶

note: this is just my personal little fantasy world headcanon lol so take it with a grain of salt!

Simon maintains a vaguely human lifestyle by adhering to one very strict rule: rigid compartmentalization. You don’t come up at work, and work doesn’t come up around you. Never the twain shall meet, he thinks. And he’s not exactly a watershed of information when he’s with his mates. And it’s not like anyone is asking “When was the last time you got fucked, Ghost?” and seriously expecting a response.

He tells you about the crew, but not about what he does with them. Killing, espionage, torture– that kind of thing stays off the dinner table.

Let it be known that you do not surprise him at work. You respect his boundaries too much, which is why he’s so fucking serious about you, honestly. He calls, asking if you can run something to him. This is maybe the greatest symbol of trust he can bestow, as a man who has only a fraction of an existence in the eyes of the government: he asks you to bring a document of his. He gives you the instructions on how to find it, and trusts that you won’t look at anything you don’t have to.

You know Johnny lets out a low whistle when he sees you coming up with a manilla folder in your hands.

“Who’s that bloody bombshell, then?”

You spy Simon and jog up to him with a smile. He’s the one who embraces you, short but strong. Cue the nigh audible gasping.

“LT, you absolute dog.”

Simon rolls his eyes as the two of you are crowded in short order. You make polite introductions, but have a previous engagement– you really did only have time to stop by.

Hate to see you go, but love to watch you leave.

Everyone is wondering how this could’ve happened. For the record– I think in this scenario, Johnny and Gaz go through a constant string of heartbreaks, and John is kinda married to his job. So in a cruel twist of fate, Simon is actually the only one currently with a partner, much less a spouse.

“How’d you manage to bag a right beauty like that, LT? C’mon, spill it–”

Simon doesn’t mean to diminish your value or anything, but his answer is not going to be satisfying, because he doesn’t find it that difficult to get women. And also, you’re his true love, so you’re perfect for each other and growing close to you was as easy as breathing. But he doesn’t say that.

“S’not that hard. Remember the stuff she says, don’t keep no secrets… dick ‘er down the way she likes.” He doesn’t mean to be crude about it, but from his perspective, is one of the main reasons why you tolerate him. Soap howls at the response.

He’s telling the truth, though! He has a scarily good memory. Remembers every friend you’ve ever told him about, every movie you’ve ever mentioned, every meal he’s cooked for you and how you liked it. He remembers dates, times, and lists with no issue whatsoever.

And he’s never kept anything from you. He tells you how the fuck he’s feeling, and you return the favor, even if it isn’t pleasant. The only thing he doesn’t mention to you are the gorey details of his work.

And you have never had more of a communicative partner, ironically. There were times in the beginning when he didn’t know all of the ins and outs of coaxing pleasure from your body, so he asked you to show him how you like it. And that scary memory is at work yet again– every sensitive spot, every offhand mention of a kink you’ve not yet explored together, every arch of your spine and clench of your cunt. He’s got it down to a science. Could write novels about making love to you specifically.

What I’m trying to say, at the end of the day, is that Ghost bagged a bad bitch by being autistic.

#writing #cod fanfic #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley x you #simon ghost x reader

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xoxomilesteller · 18 days ago

Text

soldier boy finds your tumblr page

cw: slapping (thigh, ass, face, vaginal), spitting, degradation, use of pet names (angel), bondage, dom sb, sb invading privacy, slight breeding kink, orgasm denial, i think that’s it? Oh drug usage as well (bad grammar too idk if thats a warning but yw if thats a big no for you)

word count: 6.3k

you’ve always been a quiet girl. you like to say that you’re just quiet, not shy. (or maybe you’re in denial). you really don’t have much to say about things and it gives people the wrong impression. they think that you find them annoying or that you’re just awkward, but you’re not. you’re just peaceful and quiet in a world full of the opposite

so when ben met you, he was grateful. you don’t bother him at all, you were his angel. he couldn’t think of anyone better as a babysitter. you were easy on the eyes too. he loved your short skirts, your flimsy shirts that would be so easy to rip off, how soft your skin looked. he would speak out loud and you would hum, acknowledging him. there were times where he would want to talk

“angel,” you don’t know when the nickname happened but it never bothered you, “why don’t you talk to me, always have that cute nose in your phone” his voice radiates through your body. ben’s flirty, you knew that, but it also doesn’t bother you. you just don’t entertain it, in fact, you like it way too much

growing up, your family loved watching vought movies. your particular favorites were the ones that soldier boy starred in, physically, not the animated ones. not that you didn’t like them, his voice was extremely attractive, but something about watching him get all dirty and bloody just did something to you. of course ben doesn’t know this, you never mentioned it because last thing you need is for him to know about your crush on him

“i just don’t have much to say” your voice is soft and you keep your attention on your phone, “i find the stories you tell me very interesting” you add on and turn off your phone, facing it screen down “i just don’t think too much of it, i literally can’t cause I’ve never been in your position. i can’t add on to what you say” you shrug

ben hums. he actually feels very pleased that you enjoy his stories. you honestly like his voice more, but he fell for the trap. he started talking about how some of his assistants at vought back then would pay and beg him to sleep with them.

you have immense self control. you don’t react to words to the human eye. ben has eyes like a hawk, again, you know this. so when he starts going into detail about how exactly he quite literally put them through the mattress, you stayed still. no reaction. except your core was throbbing, aching.

it had been a while since you touched yourself. you knew better. ben’s damn superpowers, he’d be able to hear everything. you’d usually try to when ben was on a mission with butcher, but it’s been a while (a week) since he’s been on one. you like to think that he can’t smell your arousal, he’s never mentioned it and ben is everything but quiet in that department.

before becoming ben’s babysitter in the safe house, there wouldn’t be a day that you didn’t touch yourself. under all that quiet, you were a whore. you’ve slept with people before, but they never gave you what you needed. sure they got you your orgasm, at least every now and then, but you needed something.. meaner. you were also shy there. you didn’t exactly know how to tell them to slap you on the face, spit on you, tie you up.

God your tumblr page would be the death of you. you’ve created the perfect page. tons of gifs and clips of how exactly you wanted to be treated. matter a fact, whenever you did watch porn, you look for a ben look alike or a man in soldier boy cosplay.

it’s gotten bad. midway through ben’s story, you found an excuse to go outside, saying that ben’s plug was here. he was, but you were counting down the minutes until he arrived.

when he texted that he was here, you replied and set your phone down on your side of the couch. you had your settings so that your screen wouldn’t turn off at all, since it had gotten annoying when you were reading fics about ben.

you walked off to greet the man and gather ben’s drugs and alcohol.

ben however, reached over to your phone. butcher had requested that you teach ben how to use one, to your knowledge it went through one ear and out the other. ben actually listened and pretended to not care. he struggled to get out of messages, but he managed to find your notifications, many were from tumblr.

“who the fuck is tumblr?” he whispers to himself, a bit jealous and clicks on the notification.

he was taken aback. you yourself are a fanfic writer for ben, obviously. he skimmed over some texts, words like choking, spitting, and slapping sticking out to him. he couldn’t tell what was going on, who wrote what, why it was on your phone, but he saw his name multiple times and now his sweatpants were becoming tight.

before you were able to come back in, he went into the bathroom with your phone. he didn’t know what he clicked, but now all he’s seeing as he continues scrolling is women getting degraded in ways feminism doesn’t exist. ballgags, rope, leather, whips, everything. he softly groans at the sight, but he’s confused why its on yourphone. he continues scrolling until he stops in his tracks.

a clip of a man in soldier boy cosplay pounding into a tied up girl who is crying.

he stays hypnotized by the small clip. questions like “why is this on my angel’s phone?”, “is she watching this?”, “is she into this? Me?”

ben doesn’t know what to think but his left hand is wrapped around your phone case and his right hand is palming himself through his sweats. he could always smell you, he thought it was your natural daily scent, since that’s always what he smelled around him. he just thought you were always that.. wet.

he smirks to himself, his confidence skyrocketing to a level he didn’t think was possible. he opens the bathroom door and pauses, his eyes widening when he sees you searching for your phone in the crevices of the sofa. your skirt was riding up, revealing the damp spot on your lacy panties. he puts your phone into his pocket and resumes palming himself at the sight of you bent over. he clears his throat and bites back a groan when he sees your pussy clench.

you straighten up but keep your back to him, “have you seen my phone? swear i left it there” you point to where your phone was and scratch your head

ben takes a step closer, “i’ll help you find it,” his voice is much raspier, “but i actually have a question about” he slips both hands into the pockets of his sweats and pauses, searching on how to word it

you turn to face him and sit down, pinching your brows, trying to help him, “is it about something with your phone? can you not turn it on?”

ben chuckles darkly, “you underestimate me angel” he pokes his cheek with his tongue

he looks so hot.

you’re throbbing even more now.

and ben? ben figured you out. he can smell you getting more aroused and it is taking everything in him to not stuff his cock into your mouth. he wants to milk this, watch you squirm, watch that wall you put up to come down.

ben sits on the couch next to you, spreading his legs wide. his new york giants jersey covering the massive bulge in his sweats and the outline of your phone.

“you said you signed me up for an app”

you nod, “yeah, instagram. It’s a social media app but it’s just so that when you actually do decide to pay attention to my lessons, you can use it, why’re you asking?”

he wants to wrap his hand around your throat, wants to tell you to shake off that innocent look and tone you have.

instead, he says “what’s the point of instagram?”

you sit back on the couch, crossing your legs, ben’s eyes follow and you notice it. but at the same time, he loves his grandmas, rightfully so, so you don’t think too much of it. you can’t really blame him when you yourself like a grandpa.

“so you can keep up with the people you follow. You can also explore on there, the more things you like, more things similar to that will show up until you’ve curated the perfect page for your interests” you answer, not knowing you’ve practically snitched on yourself

“are all social media apps like that?” he asks, his smirk twitching on his face

“um yeah basically. so are you gonna help me look for my phone now?”

“nah, not yet” he scrunches up his nose and takes the bag of white pills on the coffee table and opens it. before you can get up he reaches out for your wrist. the feel of his rough hand and grip sends electricity throughout your entire body. “didn’t say you leave,” his voice is commanding, “sit back down”

you listen without a second thought and your obedience makes his cock twitch. he leans over to grab a tray and spills all the pills onto the tray. he grabs his knife from the table and places it in your hands. you look at him confused and he scoots closer to you.

“crush ‘em up f’me” he whispers into your ear

you maintain your cool. how? you don’t know, but you oblige

you wrap your right hand around the handle of his knife and use the butt of it to crush up the pills. ben just wanted to see your hand wrapped around something and moving it while testing your ability to do as you’re told. he’s satisfied, but you’re not crushing them up the way he wants.

so obviously he wraps his hand over yours and uses his hand to lead. he applies more pressure and moves the knife much quicker.

you’re barely hanging on by a thread.

and what does Ben do?

“there ya go” he coos

Your breath hitches and he finally has you where he wants you

“line ‘em up for me angel” he nudges his head

you nod and use the blade of the knife to line the powder up. your hands aren’t shaking, but your jaw is clenched. Hard

ben chuckles at it and tilts his head, watching you in admiration of your ability to obey. he looks down at the tray and sees that you’re almost done

“put it on the knife and bring it to my nose”

ben’s voice sends shivers down your spine and heat that your panties can hardly contain.

he’s enjoying this. your little reactions make his painful bulge worth it

you carefully scoop a line onto the spine of the knife. you slowly bring it to his face and he holds your arm steady. you look into his eyes, they’re dark. he looks like a predator calculating his prey’s’ next move.

he snorts the line and throws his head back onto the headrest of the couch, pinching the bridge of his nose. he opens his eyes and looks at you.

“you should try some” he lifts his head up and takes the knife from your hands.

you stay quiet.

he nods and scoops some powder onto his thumb and smears it on your lower lip. you stay still and your heartbeat quickens. ben smirks when he hears it pick up. he scoops some more onto his thumb and brings it to your mouth again, your eyes following his thumb since it’s easier than meeting his predatory gaze.

“look at me” he commands and you listen. his once green eyes are black and your eyes? still have the innocence you’re playing coy with

“open” his thumb is in between your top and bottom lip. you open your mouth and he sticks his thumb into it. “don’t you dare look away angel” he threatens and you swirl your tongue around the pad of his thumb, collecting the fine powder.

he removes his thumb and quickly you sit back, trying to recollect yourself.

“i need my phone” you mutter and turn to look behind the couch. maybe you placed it on the headrest and it fell behind there.

ben’s eyes travel up and down your body while you’re on your knees, head against the wall trying to search for the phone that is in his pocket. he runs a hand over his bearded face.

“i’m sure you do” he says gruffly. you hear him shift and all of a sudden he’s right behind you, hands on either side of your head and pushing against the wall. he moves the couch back, so you can see better, but he stays there even after he’s done.

“being shy is one thing angel,” he leans his upper half in closer, lips grazing your ear, “but what you’re hiding in this damn phone is something else”

“w-what?” you don’t bother to turn your head to face him, afraid of what just might happen

he removes one hand from the wall and reaches down to his pocket. he grabs your phone and places his hand back on the wall, trapping you in with your phone in between the wall and his palm.

“see, just by the look at you, you’re a sweet girl. you’re quiet. shy. but back in my day, whores would not be afraid to ask me what they want,” his smirk grows when he hears your breathing pick up, “if it was just me and them, they would ask and beg. why is that now the world is so sex positive, that you’re so shy about it, hm?”

“i don’t know what-“

“shut the fuck up” the harshness of his voice makes you ache for him more, ��i saw it. Saw it all. the ballgags, the crying, me. fuck even the spitting which is new for me. gotta lil’ crush on me baby? that hard for you to ask for what you want?” he removes his empty hand from the wall to turn your head to face him, “look at me” he demands “anyone else knows about this? How much of a slut you really are under all that innocence, hm?”

you take a deep breath “how are you supposed to tell someone to treat you like that?” you ask softly

ben throws your phone onto the couch and turns you around so you can face him, his gaze has softened. he puts a hand under your jaw, squeezing your cheeks slightly, “just like that angel. that’s how you ask. get on your knees in front of the couch”

You do as you’re told. ben sits back down onto the couch, grabbing a joint and a lighter. you’re in between his legs, looking up and him as he exhales the smoke. he looks down at you and chuckles, “you know what to do” he nudges your body with his leg

you sit up and reach your hands to the waistband of his sweatpants. he lifts up his hips to help you pull them down.

you always knew Ben had a huge dick. but thinking and actually seeing are two different things.

his cock springs up and hit his stomach. ben being the slut he is, he wears no underwear. your eyes are wide looking at the veiny and thick organ. you have no clue how you’re gonna fit that into your mouth.

“what’s fuckin’ takin you so damn long?” he groans and looks down again and laughs “not used to an actual man angel?” he puts out the joint and sets it on the tray. he wraps one of his big hands around the base and the other slithers its way to the back of your head, bringing you closer. he slaps it on your cheek twice and runs the angry red tip over your lips, “you better open this fuckin mouth”

you open your mouth and take his tip, not going much further than 1/4 of his entire length. you suck and swirl your tongue over it, earning a groan from him.

“i know you can do better than that angel”

you look up at him and he places his thumbs where your cheekbones and jaw connect. he starts rubbing circles, massaging the muscles which makes you both moan and open your mouth further to take more of him.

“there we fuckin’ go” he moans and throws his head back “that mouth, Jesus fuckin’ Christ you are a whore”

his words make you hum and he starts thrusting his hips into your struggling mouth

“you like that, huh?” he scoffs “too bad I’m gettin bored of this”

he is so mean, it makes your thighs clench. you remove your mouth from it, strings of saliva connecting you to his veiny dick

“i didn’t tell you to stop”

“i know” your voice is hoarse and you place your hands around his cock, the tips of your fingers don’t even touch. you start stroking him up and down, twisting your wrist. he hums and rolls his eyes

“you better put that mouth back on-“ he gets cut off by his own groan

you placed both of his balls into your mouth, sucking on them while stroking him and watching his reaction. he throws his head back, veins bulging from his neck. you run your thumb over the red tip, his hips jolt up

“that’s it angel. fuck” he smiles

you moan at his words. he snakes his hand to the back of your neck, keeping your mouth sealed around his balls. he then slides his hand up, pulling your hair to pull you back, earning a moan from you.

“tap my thigh 3 times and i’ll stop”

you nod and open your mouth, relaxing it as much as you can. he shoves his long and thick cock into your mouth and pushes your head down as far as it can go, which isn’t too much

“guess I gotta teach you how to suck a real cock now too. work this pretty mouth open. Look at me bitch.” he hisses and your tear filled eyes flicker up to him “fuckkkkk you really look like a whore now. watching that sweet face gettin stretched out by my cock. shit. can’t wait to see, feel, that pretty pussy flutter open”

you pathetically start grinding yourself onto the heel of your foot, ben obviously notices this and he gently slaps your face “if you fuckin cum before me, we’re really boutta have an issue” he warns and immediately you stop but your thighs keep rubbing together

“fuck me” he grits out “if I knew you were such a desperate whore I woulda done this a long time ago” he laughs darkly “gonna paint that face with my cum” his hips start moving frantically in your mouth before he suddenly removes himself and starts stroking at an insane pace while keeping your head steady with his other hand

with a loud grunt, warm fluid shoots out of him, landing all over your face. the amount he shot out was more than an average man. there is so much. most of it landed on your face, some on his jersey, some in your hair. he scoops some of it up and smears it on your lips

“there ya go angel, see? got lip gloss on again” he winks

but what caught him by surprise was when you licked the cum that landed on his jersey, lapping him up. his dick practically got hard again at the sight of you covered in his cum and cleaning him up, tasting the warmth and saltiness of him

“atta girl, clean me up. take off your panties while you’re at it too” he stuffs himself back into his sweats, ignoring how tight they’re about to feel again

you giggle and do so. they were stuck onto you because of how wet you are. he holds out his hand where you placed your white lacy panties in his palm

“well fuck i was gonna clean you up with them,” he runs his thumb over the soaked and only piece of cotton there was on them “but looks like they can’t soak up anymore huh. fuck it” he shrugs and picks you up effortlessly so you straddle his thigh. to your surprise, he starts licking your face, to clean you up. your eyes widen

he slaps your face, a bit harder this time, “i’m not a fuckin pussy who’s afraid to taste himself” he wipes his hand clean on your tank top and you whine which makes him laugh “what? you worried bout your little shirt”

“well yeah kinda i spent money on” he rips the tank top off “this..” you don’t finish your sentence in shock and ben smirks. “what the actual hell? that was brandy it was expensive” he uses one of the pieces of your torn up tank top to wipe his beard clean

“what I’m about to do to you is gonna make that shirt feel worthless” he whispers into your ear

he stands up, taking you with him. he brings you into his room and throws you on his bed. ben looks down at his sweatpants and groans when he sees a patch of wetness on it. he looks in his nightstand and takes out some black rope. he grumbles and mutters something to himself and continues searching until he pulls out some pink rope and sets it beside your head

he hovers over you, spreading your thighs, the cold air hitting your dripping core. he places kisses over your jawline to your ear, where he nibbles on it, “choose a safe word you have 5 seconds before I choose one for you”

“banana” you say quickly

“banana it is” he mumbles, “don’t give me that sir shit either, only name I wanna hear come outta that slutty mouth is ben, ya hear me?” you nod “good girl”

he places his mouth on yours, he’s kissing you roughly and demandingly, sucking the breath out of you. the air feels hot and heavy. one of his hands go under your squirming body to your back to unclasp your bra expertly. he removes his mouth to admire your chest “Goddamn these tits” he licks his lips and his hands squeeze them, a soft moan leaving your mouth. he shakes your tits and groans. he reaches for the rope beside your head and starts unraveling it. he takes both of your wrists in one hand and starts tying them to the headboard. he fastens the knot and runs his hands down your body, to the waistband of your skirt. he slides them under and removes it as well, feeling the goosebumps rise on your legs, leaving you bare before him. he takes your legs into his hands, and folds you in half. he ties your ankles to the headboard as well while leaving you all spread and exposed. the position is humiliating, but his eyes are eating you up.

ben sits back on his knees, rubbing his hands up and down the backs of your thighs, looking directly at your dripping, needy core. “well thats a damn sight if i’ve seen one” he chuckles to himself and lightly slaps your hamstrings “all these grandmas i’ve been fuckin not knowing i had a naturally wet pussy waiting for me 24/7. shit. bet it’s tight ass fuck too isn’t it, hm? well most women feel like virgins to me because.. well you know”

“please” you softly say, his voice is taunting and making you pathetic

“need me to touch you angel? need me to make you feel good?”

you nod eagerly, you’re so pathetic.

ben stands up and you strain against the rope. he returns back with his crushed up pills and your phone. he pours some of the white powder down the valley of your breasts down to your belly button “tell me angel,” he sets the tray down on the nightstand and hovers over you, “who got you into all this?” he begins snorting the powder off of you

you gulp, “so actually” you giggle nervously and ben flickers his eyes up at you, “it was you”

he finishes snorting the line and moves his head up to your ear “how?”

you stay quiet

he slaps your pussy, making you throw your head back at the burning and stinging sensation. it only adds to your arousal “you’re gonna have to talk if you want to cum today”

“well you just look so” your breath hitches when he starts kissing down your throat, leaving red and purple bruises “so dominating a-and” you moan when he sinks his teeth down on the mound of your breast “i grew up having a crush on you. found things that would add onto my imagination and fant-asies” he latches his mouth around your nipple, sucking and flicking his tongue over the sensitive bud while rolling the other one in his thumb and index finger. you moan and arch your back, he slaps one of your tits, urging you to keep talking, “you put the idea in my mind. whenever i look at you there’s nothing more that i want then to be used by you”

he removes his mouth from your nipple, his lips swollen and covered in saliva “where the hell have you been my entire life?” he wastes no time in leaving bruising and wet kisses down the soft skin of your stomach. each kiss and touch, has you more and more under his spell. his face is in front of your sopping wet pussy. he bites down on your inner thigh, making you gasp. he sticks out his tongue and licks up each lip, ignoring where you’re throbbing and aching the most.

you lift your hips up as much as the rope allows you to at the warm sensation of his tongue, “please ben” you whimper his name

he did not hesitate at your words. usually he’d wait, but with what you just told him? how could he keep his angel waiting for more?

his warm, experienced tongue licks a stripe up the center, flicking your clit a few times. you moan loudly and your nails dig into your palms.

“sensitive like a virgin” he mutters against you, the vibrations of his voice adding to the building pleasure. he returns back to your weeping cunt, his eyes never leaving your face, watching you scrunch up in pleasure while his name rolls off your tongue. “you taste so fuckin good” he starts rolling his hip into his mattress, getting off to your pleasure, same way you did earlier. he’s lapping at your entrance, drinking you up. his grip is firm on the backside of your thighs, keeping you from grinding yourself onto his face.

and his damn beard. it’s tickling and scratching you perfectly. you just want to pull on his hair, the pleasure being too much.

he shakes his head, trying to delve in deeper, the moan that left your mouth was a sound you never made before and you feel his lips curve into a cocky smile

ben returns back to your clit, your body straining against the rope again, not caring about the burning sensation it’s giving you. his right hand slides down to your entrance, probing it with his middle finger

“ben” you cry out his name when he sticks his ring and middle finger into your hole. he groans at the tightness. he thrusts them into you before scissoring his fingers

“gotta work this little pussy open like that mouth” he latches his lips again to suck on your clit. his fingers hit that gummy spot that makes you see stars

the rooms fills with your moans and squelching sounds of your walls sucking his fingers in as you clench around them

“b-ben” you moan out his name, the ropes digging into your soft skin

“nuh not yet, i ain’t done here”

he adds a third finger while flicking his tongue at an unbelievable speed

“fuck” you practically scream out at the stretch and he chuckles

you cannot hold it back anymore. your walls clench his fingers so tight and your legs shake as he gives you one of your most intense orgasms. he works you through it, not stopping until it’s over. you pant, chest rising up and down rapidly and he laps up every drop of you. he slides his hands up your body, striking you on your face, making you moan

“what the fuck did i tell you, hm?”

“t-that you”re not done”

“that I’m not fuckin done”

“i’m sorry-“

he slaps your sensitive pussy, making you squeeze your eyes shut, “no fuck that” his voice is stern. he rips off the rope, ignoring the bruising marks on your wrists and ankles and flips you over onto your stomach. he pushes your hips up so your ass is arched and in perfect view

“keep those hands near your head, if I even see you try to move them i’m tying you up again and leaving you there”

each of his hands massage and grip onto the globes of your ass, spreading to see his perfect wet pussy. he presses his bulge onto it, making you grind your hips on it before his hand slaps your left cheek “don’t fuckin move” he threatens and grips onto your hip, keeping you steady. he leans over you, pressing his torso onto your back and he thrusts his clothed bulge into you, making you moan softly at the feeling of something that can end this aching inside of you. his right hand wraps around your throat, tilting your head to meet his hungry eyes “you feel that?” he doesnt give you a second to respond before slapping your ass cheek again, “answer me whore” his voice rasps

“i feel it” you reply, though it was more breath than voice

“all i wanted to do was bury myself deep inside of you, but you had to be a fuckin slut and cum without my permission” he lands another slap on your ass, tears prickle in your eyes at the pain that quickly fades into pleasure.

you lost count at how many times he spanked you. tears ran down your cheeks, mascara and makeup definitely ruined now, but you were sure that tomorrow you would not be able to sit down and there would be bruises of his handprint, not that you’d mind. you just knew that when this night was over, you will sit in front of the mirror, naked, admiring the mark he left on you. physically and mentally.

you felt the weight of him disappearing and you hear rustling beside you. ben flips you over, so you’re on your back again. you feel the mattress dip at his weight. he takes one leg and places it on his shoulder, the other one he leaves it resting on his hip. his eyes travel from your core up to your fucked out face.

God you looked so pretty he thought

not that he needed to, but he spit onto your pussy, watching the saliva travel down. the warmth of it dripping down on you makes you squirm. he rubs his cock on your soaked folds, watching it glisten in your arousal

“please, I need it” you whine out

“be patient” he demands and slaps it on your slit, watching your body jolt at every slap. he takes his tip and lines himself up at your entrance, but he moves it up so it rubs your clit instead

“b-en” you moan out the last half of his name when he finally places the tip inside of you, stretching you wide

his teeth are clenched, hard, fighting to not just slam into you. he wanted to make you feel him stretch you wide, little by little. he wanted to ruin other men to you. he knows his size is already massive, but he wanted more than to just physically loosen you up for any other ordinary man, he wanted to leave a mark in that pretty head of yours, reminding you there is no one else like him. so that’s exactly what he did.

he retracted his tip and thrusted into you, feeding you another inch. a yelp leaves your lips and you grip onto the bedsheets. he takes his hands and wraps them around your wrists, placing them onto his chest. he didn’t want to say it but he wanted to feel your hands on his skin. he repeats his motion, taking himself out just barely and giving you more of him. you claw at his chest but of course, no marks were left. your walls are squeezing him so damn tight. almost like they’re fighting his intrusion

“not even halfway in and you already can’t take it” he tsks and shakes his head “too fuckin bad i ain’t askin no more angel”

he continues his demeaning motions until he’s buried all the way to the hilt. he stills himself. he can usually control himself but the way you’re looking at him with that expression, the sounds you’re making, the way you’re gripping him so tight he feels like he might pass out.. it only spurs him on. his left hand stays secured on your hip and his right hand travels up to your throat, applying pressure at your pulse points

“let’s see another man stretch you out this fuckin good”

you moan at his words, because it’s the truth. you feel like you’re being split open, like you’re losing your virginity again. you can feel every vein, every ridge. you’ve never felt fuller

“Goddamn i knew this pussy would feel good to work open, got me feeling like i might suffocate. Fuck angel” he throws his head back and slowly moves his hips “gonna make this tight lil thing useless to another man, loosen you up real good” he chuckles and uses his left hand to slap your hip. his hips start moving a bit faster, louder, pornographic sounds leave your mouth and wet sounds from your core fill the room. you drag your hands up to the bottom of his head, tugging on the short hair there, earning moans from him

“fuck yeah keep doing that” he leans over closer and places more pressure around your throat “open” he commands

you open your mouth and he spits into it, watching you swallow it. you were going to be the death of him.

his hips move at a more brutal pace, now that your walls have somewhat welcomed him in more. all you can think was ben, ben, ben. that’s all that really left your mouth if he got lucky he was able to make out what you were saying

“turned you into a cock drunk whore didn’t i? can’t even say my fuckin name right you dumb slut”

you hate being called dumb. you rake your nails from his hair to his neck. you don’t know where you got the confidence from, but you slap ben across the face

both of you are caught by surprised. ben stills his hips, glaring at you. he is pissed. you are shocked you even did that. he slaps your tits, earning a moan from your lips

“do.” thrust “that.” thrust “again.” thrust

you moaned every time, his tip slamming into that sweet spot. you slap him again and he slaps your tits. he’s never been slapped, at least not during sex. he liked it. it didn’t hurt him, it was more teasing to him, adding onto his pleasure.

he starts rutting his hips into you, the sounds of his balls slapping onto you creating another pornographic noise “you’re gonna milk this old man dry angel” he chuckles and flickers his eyes down to your tits, watching them bounce with every harsh thrust. he feels your velvet walls clench down on him, “gonna cum f’me angel? yeah?” his voice is so taunting, it only makes you want him more and you nod “you better say my name and say it right whore” he spits and you try to say yes but the pleasure is just too much. it’s like your senses are heightened. every touch, every word, the feel of his breath fanning over your hot skin, watching his face trying to stay hardened but his brows scrunch up, his sounds.

“if I don’t hear my name roll off those pretty little lips this is the first and last time i ever make you feel this good” he warns

“ben” you moan his name

“atta girl” he moves his left hand to rub your clit in tight circle “who’s stretching you out so fuckin good, hm?”

“ben” you shout his name

“don’t you fuckin forget that shit either” he slaps your thigh “cum for me angel, go”

at his command, you gush around him, shouting his name and digging your nails so deep into his skin, it actually left a mark. for a few seconds.

ben is now moving for his pleasure, slamming his hips brutally into your overstimulated pussy

“pussy’s gonna need an ice pack when I’m done” he grits through his teeth, his hips are moving frantically, searching for his release “gonna put a baby in you, you feel so damn good” he whispers in your ear

“do it” you encourage him

“wasn’t fuckin asking dumb bitch”

“you slap him again and that’s when he buries himself as far as he can go, grunting as you feel him shoot his massive load into you. he even goes a step further and give you 3 hard thrusts when his orgasm washes over, ensuring some of it stays deep inside of you. he slips out, watching everything spill out of you

“never-fucking-mind. that’s a damn sight for sore eyes”

AN: MY FIRST SMUT PIECE GUYS idk lmk how i did any constructive criticism is good and i hope you guys have a wonderful day banner by: @cafekitsune

#soldier boy fic #smut #soldier boy smut #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy x you #soldier boy x female reader #the boys tv #jensen ackles x reader #jensen ackles #jensen x reader

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joshujin · 4 days ago

Text

‘til god breaks this spell

joshua's devotion to you rivals his devotion to his god.

♫ spell by niki pairing: joshua x fem!reader word count: 4.6k cw: a lot of religious reflection (catholicism) tags: childhood best friends, angst, not the happy ending you probably want sorry, the one that got away, joshua is a good catholic boy, reader is atheist a/n: the very first fic i wrote was a bts jinkook fic that was inspired by la la lost you by niki. seems fitting that i start my svt writing journey with another niki inspired song hehe. other than that, idk what compelled me to torture myself (and now you) like this. also, this was written in one, flustered go so it's barely edited oops!

“mom, what would you do if i married someone who didn’t believe in god?”

joshua’s mother immediately set her novel down, glasses slipping down her nose as she frowned at her one and only son. he didn’t look up at her, choosing to stare down at his hands instead while he twirled the friendship ring he shared with you around his pinkie finger.

“married?” she repeated. “i wasn’t even aware you had someone in your life.”

he shook his head quickly, frowning down at his open palm as he began to massage it nervously. “i don’t. i’m just… curious, i guess.”

it might be silly to be as worried about this as he is, seeing as things haven’t progressed into a relationship yet, but he’d rather figure this out now and say nothing than risk it, go all in, and then cause unnecessary pain later on.

his mother stays silent long enough that he forces himself to look at her. her eyes are no longer on him, instead seemingly zoning out on the space straight ahead. he follows her gaze and grimaces when he realizes she’s staring at the wooden carving of the last supper hung on the wall.

“i wouldn’t do anything,” she begins carefully. “you’re a grown man, after all. but i would worry that marrying a partner who didn’t believe in god—any god at all—would make you stray from your own faith.”

it’s a diplomatic answer and he expected it; his mom has always been supportive of him, always allowing him the space and freedom to make his own mistakes and learn from them—or not.

“so you’d prefer i marry catholic?”

“i mean, of course, but that’s not what i said, was it?” his mom retorts, giving him a pointed look. she knew joshua had a way of misunderstanding a lot of the things she told him. “i would prefer you marry catholic the way i would prefer you marry at all—nice to have but if you don’t, it’s not the end of the world.”

joshua nods, feeling a little bit of the tightness in his chest dissipate.

“i would just hope you think about it long and hard enough to know that you won’t compromise any of your own beliefs for someone who lives without a god,” she emphasizes.

joshua mulls that idea over. is his faith strong enough to withstand a lifelong partner who didn’t share his belief and love for god?

he wants to say yes. it’s you—of course he wants to say yes. you’ve been friends your whole lives, and he’s been in love with you for most of that time. of course he wants his answer to be: yes, my faith will survive a relationship with an atheist.

but he thinks about the conversations you’ve already had years ago, and the tightness in his chest returns tenfold.

is there anything that could happen that would make you believe in god?

probably not. it just seems too convenient that there’s someone out there in charge of everyone’s lives.

would you marry someone religious?

i don’t know. i guess it depends on the person. i don’t think i’d participate or convert or anything if i did, though.

what about kids? would you baptize them if you did marry someone religious?

dude, what’s with the interrogation? i don’t know! if it’s important to my partner, maybe? but i’d be most comfortable just letting my kids figure it out themselves. can we watch a movie now?

and each time you answered his question, instead of accepting that maybe there was a major incompatibility between the two of you, joshua would find himself thinking of the things he could compromise on.

okay, sure, he doesn’t need you to convert or participate; he’s already been going to church his entire adult life so far without anyone accompanying him. and if you didn’t want children baptized, that’s fine too! adults go through catholic confirmation later in life all the time! so what if you thought that the idea of a “big guy” controlling everyone’s lives was weird? he could just refrain from talking about that around you… or correcting your line of thinking because it’s a bit of a gross oversimplification of catholicism.

and as he sits there, his mother already back to her novel, he realizes his faith isn’t strong enough to survive you. because his love for you has become somewhat of its own religion to him, and if it came down to a question of his faith to you or his faith to god, he has to be honest with himself and admit that his mother’s fears are valid. he would put it all on the line if it meant being with you.

and he can’t do that.

he’s committed all kinds of sins by now. he’s been flexible in his beliefs—supportive and progressive in areas where other catholics have been unforgiving and in his opinion, outdated and bigoted. he’s compromised a lot at no cost to him or his god. but he can’t completely lose everything he’s known and loved for you. he can’t lose himself to you.

he can't forget that it isn't fair to you either—to have to try and appease him and his religion. he'd be doing you both a mercy, letting this spark die before it ever really takes flame.

joshua leaves his mother’s house knowing one thing is for sure: it’s time to let this dream of having you go.

the end is short and uneventful.

you two had only kissed once, and things hadn’t gone far enough for either of you to confess your feelings—whatever they were. so when joshua told you he thought it was better to stay best friends, you took it like a champ and agreed, smiling and hugging him tightly, promising him that nothing would change.

the end was short and uneventful, yet somehow the most devastating thing joshua has experienced. he had you. you were right there. he had a whole life with you in his palm, and he let it go.

he hates himself for it, but he saw it all. the moment his lips met yours, he saw hands intertwined together, late nights, car rides with his hand on your thigh, hugs from behind while he cooked for you, a suit and a white dress, a small, innocent face that looked like the both of you—your smile, his eyes.

and he feels like maybe you saw it too.

because when you both pulled away, you looked up at him like this was it—like you had just run a marathon and you had reached the finish line. like you’d grabbed his hand and crossed it with him. you smiled widely, wrapped your hand around the back of his neck, and caressed the skin there as your foreheads met. and you fell asleep wrapped up in each other like it was where you were both meant to be.

maybe you saw it too. and now he’s the reason it’ll stay a dream.

you stay true to your promise. joshua is almost saddened by how easy it seems for you to revert back to being only friends. every time he sees you, hears you, brushes up against you, he feels like his heart is cracking wide open and the world might just end at that very moment. it’s dramatic but he can’t wrap his mind around any other way to exist.

it hurts for a while, but the years pass a little easier.

he watches you date, and even though he’s secretly and unfairly relieved every time you throw someone else to the curb, he takes it well. he meets some of them and welcomes them warmly, agreeing to hang out with you and whoever you’re dating any time you ask him to. he even thinks one or two of them could give you a good life; he can live thinking of you with these ones forever. but you inevitably leave them behind and he hates that it makes him happy to watch you shake off a good guy that isn’t him.

just as he planned, joshua’s faith remains strong. he goes to church. he volunteers with his mom and her bible study friends. he sings and plays guitar on the praise and worship team from time to time. he meets a a catholic woman he thinks could be a match for him. he never asks her out. he politely declines when she musters up the courage to do it herself.

he thinks this could be fine. maybe he’ll be single forever and maybe you’ll find some average guy he can stomach, and his love for his god and for your happiness will keep him warm enough at night.

but then, you meet kwon soonyoung.

you’ve never been one to fall and tell; most of the time, joshua doesn’t know you’re dating someone until you decide it’s time to get his stamp of approval. he knows soonyoung is different from the jump.

your time starts to get tied up. it starts with only seeing him sporadically throughout the month instead of almost every day. it becomes rescheduling all your hangouts until you’re only seeing each other briefly at mutual friends’ events. it ends with missed calls and ignored texts.

he’s driving himself crazy wondering what’s going on, and when you post a photo on your story of a dinner date with a faceless man, he understands what’s happening. you’re falling in love. and he knows it because you never have—not truly—and this is what it must look like.

you don’t fall and tell, but joshua knows you too well to pretend it’s anything but this. he doesn’t try to take up any more of your time out of respect, and you don’t reach out.

you prove him right when a few months later, you bring soonyoung to a friend’s dinner party, and you introduce him as your boyfriend. it hits joshua like a truck. you’ve never introduced someone to him as a boyfriend. he’s always met the people you’ve dated before it progressed that far. he also had the privilege of meeting them privately, not with the rest of the friend group, none of who are privy to the way his heart collapses in on itself when he watches the way you lean into soonyoung all night. the way you laugh with him. the way his eyes disappear from how fondly he smiles at you. the way he seems to fit right into your life so perfectly.

you hug joshua tightly that night before leaving, and you tell him you miss him so much and you two need to catch up soon. neither of you follow up, though, and a year later, you’re engaged.

the week before joshua is due at your wedding as a guest—not your “man-of-honor” the way you’ve always planned your entire life—he gets completely shit-faced drunk.

he’s sitting on the sidewalk in front of a puddle of his own vomit when you quietly sit beside him, slipping your arm around his shoulders. he doesn’t know why you’re there. he doesn’t know if he’s hallucinating. he smiles anyway.

“hey, you.”

“hey, shua,” you whisper, smiling at him sadly. “what are you doing?”

“oh, y’know,” he shrugs, grinning at himself pathetically. “just hanging out.”

you hum, nodding.

“what are you doing here?” he asks.

you look at him with an inscrutable expression. “i just wanted to see you,” you answer. “i wanted to see my best friend.”

“am i?” he asks, looking up at the sky. the moon is covered by clouds tonight. “your best friend?”

“of course. you always will be.”

he smiles at the thought. he’s too drunk to realize there’s no possible way that’s true, not since soonyoung came into your life. he’s too drunk to remember there’s no room in your life for another man who’s just as hopelessly in love with you as your fiance is.

“say, do you believe in god yet?” he asks suddenly.

you raise an eyebrow at the suddenness of the question. “um, i haven’t thought about it lately.”

he nods. “okay.”

“joshua, what are you doing here?” you ask again. “what are you really doing here?”

he doesn’t remember what he tells you. what he does remember is waking up in the room he grew up in instead of his apartment, with his mother at the foot of his childhood bed, tears welling in her eyes.

“was it y/n?” she asks.

he frowns. “what?”

“when you asked what i would do if you married someone who didn’t believe in god all those years ago,” she explains, sniffling a little as she does. “were you talking about y/n?”

he doesn’t answer.

the events of the previous night catch up to him, and he remembers where he is—where his life is. he’s a handful of days from watching you marry someone else. he’s a handful of days from losing the one person he’s ever fallen in love with to someone else.

and all joshua has to show for it is his goddamn faith, and suddenly, for the first time since he asked his mother that question, he’s not sure it was worth it. because either way, he knows he’ll be devoted to you until the day he dies; he might as well have had you by his side all this time.

he tries to swallow the lump in his throat. when he fails, he can’t help the sobs that begin to rack his body.

he buries the heel of his hands into his eyes until he sees stars.

“she’s marrying him,” he groans through his sobs. “she’s marrying him, mom.”

“oh, joshua. i know.” he feels his mom’s hand squeeze his leg. “oh, baby, i’m so sorry.”

“i can’t do this. i can’t do it,” he wheezes, feeling like his lungs are collapsing under the weight of his ribs. “why did i do this? i can’t do this.”

she doesn’t try to convince him he can do this. she doesn’t try to argue that he didn’t do anything wrong. she doesn’t tell him to calm down. she collects him in her arms and she holds him, comforting him the way only a mother knows how to.

when he starts to calm down, she kisses the crown of his head.

“the pain you must’ve endured all this time. i’m so sorry, joshua. if i had known who you were talking about, i would’ve said something entirely different.”

he untangles himself from her embrace to look at his mother. “what do you mean?”

she wipes at her own tear-stained cheeks before cupping her son’s face. “oh, sweetheart. it’s y/n. you grew up with her. i know her like i would my own daughter.”

his mother shakes her head and joshua feels like he sees all his regret mirrored in her face. she pulls him to sit against the wall his bed is pushed up against, joining him as they both stare out the opposite window.

“there are some people who lead godly lives without even knowing it,” she informs him. “you say she doesn’t believe in god, but i don’t believe you.” his stomach lurches. “that girl has lived as godly a life as you and i have. she doesn’t need to be catholic to do that, baby. you know her. there isn’t a single universe where that girl would’ve led you away from your faith.”

joshua stammers now. “but… i…”

“all the sundays she tagged along for mass with us because she just wanted to be with her best friend when she could’ve been out on the playgrounds,” his mother begins listing. “she always respectfully bowed her head when we prayed before meals even though we both knew she wasn’t praying.”

his head is reeling now. is it possible he rewrote his own memories? could he have created his own narrative of what life with you would look like?

“remember when you were both 14 and she learned what lent was? she tried giving up soda and ended up crying, begging me for forgiveness when she forgot and accidentally had coke with her school lunch.”

his mother’s shoulders shake with nostalgic laughter.

“you would’ve thought i was god the way that girl wailed,” she reminisces. she sighs in the silence that follows. “joshua, my son. some people… they show you they love god in a way different than we do, and it’s my fault i never properly taught you that.”

he turns his head to look at her but her gaze remains trained on the window. he sees now that it’s not his regret she mirrors but her own.

“i think i was too preoccupied with ensuring i raised you to be a good, catholic man—too preoccupied with making sure you didn’t become anything like your father.”

he breathes in deeply and returns his focus to the window.

“but i should’ve made it clear. i should’ve shown you that god exists in all the little acts of love we give and receive. i should’ve shown you that organized religion isn’t the only marker of faith.” she pauses, taking a shaky breath. “maybe then you would’ve recognized y/n as a woman of god. maybe then you wouldn’t be so hurt now.”

the words are enough to make joshua even more nauseous than his hangover is already making him.

“y/n… she shows godliness in the way she respects you and your beliefs. she shows it in the way she supports and loves you through every season of your life. it’s unfair to say she isn’t good enough for you because her faith lies in a different place.”

“i never thought she wasn’t good enough for me,” he interjects quickly. his mom doesn’t argue that, simply nodding. “she’s perfect. i just… i thought we were incompatible.”

“and maybe you are,” she agrees.

she doesn’t need to say it out loud; they both know what comes next. but now you’ll never know.

“i just wanted to apologize,” his mom tells him, taking his hand in hers and squeezing. “i feel like i’ve failed you.”

“you haven’t, mom,” he says quietly. “i failed me.”

“we’ll agree to disagree,” she announces, making him smile a little. “but i’m sorry anyway. there are a lot of things i’d change now if i could.”

he feels the familiar tightness in his chest. it’s his companion at this point, the heartbreak. “me too, mom. me too.”

joshua played with your hair from where he was laying on your couch. you were sitting criss-cross in front of him on the floor, clicking through netflix and trying to find a movie you both wanted to watch.

"is there anything that could happen that would make you believe in god?" he suddenly asked you. you frowned at the abrupt question, setting the remote down on the floor.

"that's random."

"just curious," he murmured softly, like he was so relaxed he was about to fall asleep.

"hmm," you hummed in thought, resting your head back so you could stare at the ceiling. he adjusted your hair so it fell over his lap. "like what, some kind of miracle that can only be explained by god?"

he shrugged. "sure. whatever."

"probably not..." you answered with hesitation. "i can't really think of a kind of miracle that would have me questioning god, though."

"like, if someone you loved were given a terminal diagnosis—three months to live. and suddenly, their illness clears up with no explanation. even doctors are astounded. what would you think?"

you shrugged. "i would be too happy they're not dying to question how it happened." he blew out a breath of exasperation. "okay, okay," you laughed, trying to figure out a more definite answer for him. "no, i don't think there's anything that could happen. it just seems too convenient that there's someone out there in charge of everyone's lives."

he nodded along but said nothing. you fidgeted in the silence. the quiet wasn't something the two of you ever shied from; it was always comfortable with joshua. for some reason, you felt awkward. so you kept talking to fill the silence.

"i think i could be open to believing something, though," you admitted honestly. "i just don't want to get to a place where i would blame this... thing or person for the things going wrong in my life. but that's just me. i still love that people believe so strongly in it. faith is a beautiful thing."

joshua taught you that. faith withstood a lot of things, and your best friend was the prime example. nothing was quite as beautiful as his love for his religion, his god, his spirituality. even if it scared you sometimes—even if it unintentionally made you feel too small to be someone lucky enough to have joshua's heart—you knew it was still precious.

"would you marry someone religious?"

you snorted. "where are these questions coming from?"

"indulge me."

you sighed, closing your eyes and enjoying the way his fingers carded through your hair. "that's so hard to answer without knowing who it is. it depends on the person. i can't make a decision based solely on how religious they are."

"okay, i guess that's fair." he paused. "would you ever convert for someone?"

"i don't think so?" you said, hating how unsure you sounded answering all of these questions. "but who knows? i really can't say for sure without knowing who it is, shua. how about you? would you marry someone who wasn't religious?"

your heart pounded at the silence that followed.

"it depends on the person," he finally said with a playful tone.

you rolled your eyes. "exactly."

"alright, what about kids?"

"shua, why are you interrogating me right now?"

he snickered. "i'm having a conversation with my best friend. is that not allowed?"

you lifted your head and turned to glare at him, your hair slipping between his fingers. he dropped his hand now that he had nothing to play with. he raised his eyebrows at you slightly.

"of course it's allowed," you scoffed. "it's just... so out of nowhere."

"well?" he prodded, ignoring your comments.

"okay, what about kids?" you relented.

"would you baptize them if you did marry someone religious?"

you laughed. "so much religion talk tonight."

he didn't dignify that with a response.

you groaned, again having no idea. if you took all these questions and made them about joshua, they would be a million times easier to answer. but he wasn't asking about himself, he was asking about some faceless, nameless nobody, and you weren't invested enough to answer accurately.

"i don't know... if it's important to my partner, then of course i would consider it," you finally said. "but i guess i'd be most comfortable just letting my kids figure it out themselves."

"that's wise," he remarked.

"mhm, sure" you hummed. "can we watch a movie now? i'll even let you choose an anime if you stop asking questions that make me sweaty."

he smirked and nodded. "okay, come up here, though."

you joined him on the couch and you spent the rest of the night binging anime episodes. you wouldn't be able to say what you watched, though, because the entire time, your mind was stuck on what the answers would've been if they were about joshua.

the end is long and beautiful.

you marry kwon soonyoung in front of all your loved ones, and you do it knowing full well this man will give you the happiest life. you spend the night eating the food you both painstakingly chose together, dancing to songs recommended by your guests on their RSVPs, and laughing so hard, tears stream down both of your faces.

and when you sidle up to your best friend as he leans on the bar, waiting for his drink, he has the strength to look happy for you. you’re sure he isn’t. at least not quite all the way.

“i’m happy you’re happy, y/n.”

you smile. “thank you, shua.” you pause, tilting your head a little in thought. you add: “for everything.”

“what’s everything?” he asks, smiling in confusion.

“for everything... for being my best friend all this time. loving me like you did. letting me love you," you list, ignoring the way his eyes widen at you. "most of all, i guess i just want to thank you for everything you gave up so we could be here,” you finish before placing a soft kiss on his cheek. you pull away, cupping his face, and smiling. “i’ll never forget it. thank you.”

you’re swept back onto the dance floor by your bridesmaids. it was a short exchange, but you know it was enough.

you’re not dumb. you knew what joshua had to give up so you could be here, happy, in love, and with the man perfect for you.

everything. he had to give up everything. he chose his devotion to god over his devotion to you, and you never faulted him for that because you knew it was a decision that would destroy him, and maybe it did at one point, having to bury his love as deep as he did.

you didn’t believe heaven was real, and still, he chose to love you until it hurt like hell and you knew it. there might have been a younger version of you that was heartbroken he couldn’t possibly imagine a life with you where you were capable of supporting his beliefs wholeheartedly regardless of yours. because you would have. you would have done everything in your power to make him feel loved while keeping his door to his god wide open.

there might have been a younger version of you that would’ve hated him for this.

but tonight, as you slow dance with your husband, feeling the safest you’ve felt in your entire life, all you can do is thank joshua hong for all the choices he made without asking you first.

ironically, because of him, you can see god now. you can see god in the way soonyoung holds you like you’re the most precious person in his life. you can see god in his patience and care. in his kindness. in his dedication to making you smile and laugh.

you’ve never seen god in a clearer light.

you think back to your last, honest night with joshua, on that deserted street, when he drunkenly called you.

“what are you really doing here?”

“i’m mourning,” he answered. “i’m mourning the life we could’ve had.” he frowned as tears began to fall down your face. “don’t cry. i don’t want to make you sad. i’m okay, i promise. i’ll be okay. i’m just letting you go now... for real this time.” he hiccuped. "for real, for real."

“you didn’t have to, you know,” you whispered.

“i think i did.”

you got him to his mother’s home that night, not wanting him to wake up alone with the weight of his sadness. you didn’t exchange many words, but you knew she knew. she hugged you, told you she was happy for you and soonyoung, and she looked at you for several, long seconds. you felt like she could see right through you because she probably could—she always did.

“you’ll always have him.”

“and he’ll always have me.”

“i know.”

the end is long and beautiful, and it’s simultaneously the best and the most devastating night of your life.

but your lives go on, and you and joshua both find what keeps you warm at night, and you hold onto it for as long as you can.

and you’re okay with that. you hope he is too.

#joshua x reader #joshua hong x reader #joshua x you #joshua hong #joshua hong fic #seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #svt imagines #svt scenarios #seventeen x you #svt x you #seventeen fic #joshujin fic

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theyhavetakenovermylife · 4 months ago

Note

Hi! I didn’t find any information of you ask box is open or not so I hope I’m not bothering!!

But if it’s open could you please do a bayverse or 2003 turtles x reader Headcanon of maybe their first makeout sesh as either a couple or crushes and the sexual tension is so THICK it leads dry humping? To them maybeeeee both 💦 undone while at it? Pls and thank you

(Also random comment since we are already here: Idk why ppl don’t talk about dry jumping anymore !!!!! Something about it is so vulnerable and passionate, the heavy breaths, the heat between each others bodies, the touch between both lips, the uncertainty of both parties if pushing boundaries… but if so then why does it feel so good? and the craving for more!!!! AH !!!! anyways it’s intimate it’s hot and ppl should write about it, thanks for coming to my Ted talk )

First Makeout Session (18+)

2003!Turtles x reader

A/N: The information about my Inbox is under my request rules, but luckily for you, they are open😉 I decided to let the lucky wheel decide between Bayverse and 2003, and it picked 2003💚 I’ve focused more about the makeout session itself, with a little bit of dry humping. I like the idea, so if you want me to make one mainly focused on that, then please let me know. Other than that, I hope you’ll enjoy💚

All characters are aged up.

Warnings: Makeouts of course, dry humping, grinding, groping, implied sex, implied first time.

Leonardo:

You and Leo’s first kiss was sweet and passionate, coming shortly after the two of you had admitted your feelings for one another. But your first makeout session came a few weeks into your relationship.

It was late at night in Leo’s room, where you had decided to stay overnight. You and Leo had been cuddling for hours, talking in the low light of the lamp on his nightstand, when you found yourselves tangled up in each other’s arms, with your lips locked in sync.

It started off rather soft, but slowly took up momentum, until your tongues were dancing together, exploring each other’s mouths, small sounds escaping your mouths.

Leo couldn’t stop himself from grinding his hips against you, enjoying the sounds that it made you do. He could keep going. He could flip you onto your back and take you right then and there. But in the end he decided against it. It was too early in your relationship.

Instead he stopped, kissed you all over your face and told you he loved you. And you in turn smiled, understanding what was going on, before snuggling closer to him, hiding your face against his plastron.

Raphael:

You and Raph’s first makeout session came as soon as it was possible. It was what came right before Raph finally confessed his feelings for you, while the two of you were still catching your breaths, arms still wrapped around each other, minds still clouded with love, lust and wonder.

It happened at your place. Raph had decided to stay over for the evening, so the two of you could do as so many best friends do, and hang out, talking about anything between heaven and earth, watching a movie or a tv show, or just enjoying your time together.

How the kiss came about however, is something neither you or Raph is fully aware of. One moment you were talking on the couch, laughing and having fun. The next moment he was on top of you, your lips locked together in a battle of dominance.

Your legs wrapped as far as they would go around Raph, welcoming him as he grinded against you, pushing his cloaca against your clothed core, causing sounds of pleasure to escape the two of you.

In the end, Raph won the battle of dominance, wrapping a hand around your throat, keeping you breathless in place, placing one last on your lips, before leaning back to look you directly in the eyes, your arms came up around his shoulders. And there, he told you the worlds that would start your relationship.

Donatello:

It’s hard to say when exactly you and Donnie had your first makeout session, as it was a slow progression, starting from your first kiss, to the day there was definitely no doubt what was on your mind. It was a natural progression that took place, ever since your first - sweet and innocent kiss - to the hot and heavy kiss that led to your first time together.

The first time your kiss took the first step from sweet and innocent to something more steamy, was a few weeks into you and Donnie’s relationship. Donnie was following you home, making sure that you got there safely. It was there, on your fire escape, as Donnie kissed you goodbye, that your kiss turned from a small peck, into something more intense, your lips moving together and your arms around each other, feeling each other’s shoulders, arms and torso. But at that time, it didn’t move much further than that.

The second time it took up a little more steam. With Donnie in his lab, you decided to take a seat directly on his thighs. Here your kiss just felt natural, and it felt natural for Donnie to rest his hand on your rear end, before giving it a squish, feeling your hand roam up and down his chest.

The third time was when there was no longer any doubt, that your kissing now was comfortable enough, to evolve into a full blown makeout session. This time Donnie didn’t just follow you home, but found himself pushed up against you on the fire escape, your back against the wall next to your window, grinding against each other, before you invited Donnie inside.

Michelangelo:

You and Mikey’s first makeout session was probably the most lewd and sloppiest, hot and heavy, yet a very playful thing. It was very early in your relationship with Mikey. You were over in the lair late one evening, playing video games with Mikey in the dark. It was long after the rest of Mikey’s family had gotten to bed, leaving the two of you alone on the couch.

Here the two of you laughed, playing one round of your favorite games after the other, playfully teasing each other so that you could get the upperhand in the game. It turned into the two of you playfully pushing each other to throw you off your game, to climb over each other to get in order to block each other’s view of the screen.

However, it didn’t take long before you and Mikey dropped your controllers onto the ground, forgetting all about the game playing in the background, as you found yourselves wrapped up in each other’s arms, you straddling Mikey’s lap, with his hands on your ass, pushing you against him in fluid motions. Small moans escaped your moving lips with every laboured breath, your grinding and humping against each other only growing stronger and faster.

Not only did you and Mikey have your first makeout session on the couch in the lair, but it was on the same couch, that same evening - while keeping quiet so no one would wake up and notice - that you had your first time.

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capitanooos · 3 months ago

Text

crawling back to you // dmitri kravinoff x reader

-`♡´- pairing : dmitri kravinoff x reader

-`♡´- summary : you attempt to move on after an unfortunate breakup, yet the date does not go as planned at all.

-`♡´- warnings : erm angst, sad, alcohol, abuse (nikolai ;-;), its a couple of punches, mentions of blood, flashsbacks, crying dima (yes), idk what else lmk if i missed sum

-`♡´- notes : lowk hate this too! now imma drown in more hw

-`♡´- word count : 4400

song mentioned: do i wanna know (hozier)

dont translate, modify or repost my work. you do not have permission. not my gif

“Darian offered to take you out again tomorrow.” Selena, your best friend, spoke from her bathroom as you laid on her bed, a deep sigh falling from your lips at the mention of the man.

The guy she set you up with had been texting you all week. He was handsome, and from the one date you had with him you judged him to be a nice man. But it was too soon, or so you thought. You’d been single for six months now after being in a relationship for nearly two years with someone who you believed was the love of your life.

“Or let me rephrase that. Darian told me he has reserved spots at this really fancy place downtown, and he’d love to take us there on a double date with one of his mates.” Selena walked out and fell down next to where you were rotting. “And I’ve kinda already agreed to it on your behalf so, clear your schedule, it’ll be fun!”

You reached for a pillow and shoved it in her face, groaning at the thought of having to go out instead of spending the night in bed with a mediocre movie and a cheap bottle of wine from Tesco.

“Fine, but only because you’re coming.”

So when the next evening your doorbell rang, you walked up to it to reveal Darian in a suit with flowers in his hand, letting him in with a smile. Taking the flowers from him and putting them in a vase before grabbing your bag and heading out of the door on his arm.

“So, where will we be going?” you asked as you got in his car, clicking the seatbelt in place as you heard him laugh softly.

“It’s a surprise, beautiful.” He said, smiling brightly before starting the car and taking off into the city.

The lights of the city flew past as you crossed town, the streets were busy and people were everywhere. The soft hum of music and the wind soaring around the car calmed your building nerves, everything would be fine. It’s just a date, you know him!

As the car stopped and you got out, you looked at the setting sun, the last beams of warmth reflecting on your skin as you took a deep breath. You reached for Darians arm, walking to the mystery place as you talked about your day, smiling when he complimented your dress and smiling even brighter when your eyes landed on Selena, who stood next to a man you didn’t recognise.

You’d been so endorsed in conversation with Darian that you had not noticed the street you were in, you had not noticed what building you were about to enter as your friend talked your ears off about how hot and sexy this guy with her was.

It was only once you stepped inside and saw the hosts’ face that you looked around and felt your heart drop into your stomach. You swallowed thickly as you were led to your table, trying to cover up your emotions with a smile when you saw Darian give you a concerned look. When he turned his back to you, you shot Selena a look that she’d describe as pure terror.

“This is the Chameleon.” you whispered and watched her eyes grow in shock.

“Maybe he’s not here. You’ll be fine.” she whispered as she squeezed your hand under the table before looking back at her date, Maxwell.

Sure. What were the chances? Besides, the place was packed. Even if he was here, it didn’t mean he’d have to see you.

A couple of deep breaths and sips of water later you finally joined the ongoing conversation that had already started between your friend and the two men infront of you.

“What about you, [Name]?” You looked at Maxwell confused, not grasping the meaning of his question.

“Oh [Name]? [Name] got her standards pretty high.” Selena smiled as she jokingly poked her elbow in your side while you shook your head no in protest. Both of your reactions got a laugh from the two men, them musing to know more about this. “She’s being modest.”

“Even if I am, I don’t think that this is the proper conversation material to talk about on a date.” You looked at your best friend with a smile.

The music coming live from the stage set a calm atmosphere as they found a new topic to converse about. Occasional laughter ringing through the busy room as they each shared stories.

Apparently Darian and Maxwell were old school buddies, having met at a private school in the States, like Selena and [Name] were too. Turns out they were two stinking rich kids, coming from old family money, so no wonder they drove expensive cars and had the money to take two middle class girls out on a date to the Chameleon. London's most pristine club and restaurant. The place where people nearly fought for a place to dine.

As the night progressed, the conversation turned back to the first one they had that evening.

“I’m still wondering, [Name] darling. What was that earlier about your high standards?” Darian looked at you with a raised brow and a cocky smile. By now all of you had some drinks and the awkwardness had fallen away.

You smiled as you shook your head. Memories you had tried your best to bury crawled back to the surface. Darian held your gaze as he watched you sink into memory.

“I think Selena just meant that my ex treated me very well and it’ll be really hard to find someone to top that.” you politely brushed the topic off but someone besides you protested.

Now it was Selena's turn to aggressively shake her head as she spoke up, a wicked grin on her face as she looked at you before looking at Darian.

“Oh no, her ex was this extremely rich guy who wrote her songs, like the best love songs ever. Dedicated all of his songs to her when he performed. Named his one and only album after her, with songs all about and for her. He didn’t make a single penny from it either, because everything he earns from it gets put in this girl's bank account.” you stared at your drink while Selena spilled the beans, your cheeks flushing a bright red as you felt your throat swell as more memories flooded back to you.

Somewhere far away you heard Darian and Maxwell’s reactions, you were too zoned out to make out what they were saying. Never would you have thought that hearing those words so literally would bring you back to six months ago, to the moment of the break up.

His father had warned you once, when you’d been dating Dmitri for only two months. He believed you weren’t good enough for his son. Too poor, too lowly born, your place in society wasn’t prominent enough. He had threatened you, and you had Dmitri convince you that it’d be alright, his father wouldn’t hurt you, ever. He’d make sure of it himself.

Somehow you managed for almost two whole years before his father saw the two of you together again. He’d stormed over, grabbed you by your collar, raised his hand before Dmitri shoved his father away from you and took the blow that was meant for you. That however, had only angered his father more, and before you knew it you were kneeling over a bruised and bloody Dmitri.

You had taken him home, cleaned up his wounds before sitting him down for a serious conversation.

“Maybe it’s better if we… Don’t continue this relationship, for the sake of both our safety.” you had started and it soon escalated to where you were now. Both crying and unwilling, but knowing that deep down, it’d be for the better.

“So the last two years were nothing?” Dmitri’s soft, broken voice rang through the room and you shook your head, tears falling down your cheeks.

“It wasn’t nothing, it was everything, but Dmitri, look what has happened because of me.” your voice cracked as you looked at his face. Bruised and bloodied, his eyes so full of pain.

Dmitri shook his head, looking at you with such desperation that had more tears streaming down your face. He walked towards where you stood near the window that overlooked all of London from his penthouse.

“This isn’t because of you-” he grabbed your hands in his ever so gently, tears falling out of his eyes with no shame as he tried to reason with you.

“Yes it is, Dmitri! You heard what your father said.”

“So what? Why should it matter what my father said?”

“You know why. We’re done, Dmitri.” you spoke as you pulled your hands from his.

It had hurt you so much to speak those words. You didn’t want to leave him, but you loved him too much and you refused to see him get hurt because of you again.

“I promised to protect you.”

“You’ll protect the both of us if we go our separate ways.” you turned around to leave.

“Do you love me?” he asked as he gently grabbed your wrist, his big, tear filled eyes looking at you.

You nodded as you faced him one last time. Cupping his face as you looked him in the eye.

“I love you more than anything, Dmitri, and that’s the exact reason why I have to let you go.” you said softly as you kissed his forehead before turning around and making your way out of the apartment. Breaking the heart of the love of your life as well as your own.

When you snapped back to reality you found three pairs of eyes on you as you tried to blink away tears. You smiled as you stood up and excused yourself, quickly walking through the familiar sets of tables as you made your way to the restrooms.

Tears still threatened to fall out of your eyes as you looked at yourself in the mirror in front of you.

It still hurt too much to think about him, hearing Selena talking about him, and being in his place. The place where you had made so many memories together. The place where every single metre linked back to him. The fact that one unlucky step could land you right in front of him, or worse, his father.

Your heavy breaths calmed ever so slightly as you ran your hands under the cold water, trying to empty your mind from the unwanted thoughts that pried and crammed into your mind.

“It’s okay.” you kept repeating in your mind as you dried your hands and fixed your appearance. “It’ll be fine.” You whispered as you exited the restrooms, slowly walking back to your table.

“[Name]? I knew Eliza wasn’t lying when she said you were here!” Your eyes landed on a familiar figure in front of you, one you loved dearly. You reached for the elder woman, embracing her as you sighed. “Oh Maragret,” you shook your head as you pulled back, brows furrowed, “I’m so glad to see you.”

She tilted her head to the side as she took you in. You’d seen each other only once since the break-up, she was the only one who really knew all of the details of what went down. She offered you a soft, sad smile, which you returned.

“This seems like the last place you’d be after…” she left her sentence open for you to interpret and you laughed quietly while nodding.

“I was kind of dragged on a double date with my best friend, didn’t know we’d be coming here.” you smiled awkwardly as you looked around you. The place hadn’t changed one bit. The same warm lights, the black and gold furniture, the same staff, the live music coming from the stage. Though now that you looked at the stage, no one was there, but you swore there was music before you rushed off to the restrooms.

Margaret ushered you back to your table, apologizing for interrupting your date and promising to see you soon before walking back to the bar.

As you sat back down you apologized, smiling softly. Darian offered you a smile as he asked if you were alright, you nodded before Selena dragged you into the conversation she was having with Maxwell. Something about her trying to prove to him how bad the public school experience was here in the UK.

Your attention to the conversation was short cut as you heard music coming from the piano on the stage, closing your eyes as you took in the notes.

“Right, [Name]?” your eyes opened, looking at Selena and nodding.

“Mhm? Oh yeah, high school here is tragic. Terrible, really. I wouldn’t wanna go through it again, not even for a million pounds.”

Laughter erupted from the men in front of you as they watched the terror on your face at the thought of it. High school was tough.

“Do I wanna know? If this feeling goes both ways? Sad to see you go, was sorta hoping that you’d stay.”

All the colour drained from your face as the voice you’d recognize amongst thousands hit your ears. Your head snapped to the stage, and your eyes met with those bright blue eyes you knew all too well.

“Darling we both know, that the nights were mainly made for saying things that you can’t say tomorrow day.”

You were frozen as you looked at Dmitri, desperately searching his eyes for you didn’t know what. Of all the voices, all the impressions he could do, his own raw voice would always be your favorite thing. He knew that, he knew that very well, and it brought tears to your eyes as you felt your throat close up again.

“Crawling back to you. Ever thought of calling when you’ve had a few? ‘Cause I always do.”

The world could end this moment and you wouldn’t even notice. Everything around you fell away as he offered you a tiny smile, it was gone as quick as it came.

“Maybe I’m too busy being yours to fall for somebody new. Now I’ve thought it through.”

You turned your head away, breaking eye contact, looking back down at the table in front of you with big eyes full of tears. It felt impossible to breathe as you grabbed beside you, hand grasping at Selena’s wrist. A look at you, the stage, and then back at you had her shaking her head as she went to embrace you, the two men in front of you completely forgotten as your mind raced at a million miles an hour.

A young man walked up to you, awkwardly fiddling with the rings on his fingers as he shyly smiled at you.

“Hello,” he spoke up, pulling you away from the work on your laptop and smiling up at him while sliding the headphones off your head.

“Hi, can I help you?” your confused yet oh so bright smile had Dmitri look down at his feet for a second before meeting your eyes again.

“Yes, I’m Dmitri Kravinoff.” he said, looking at you like you were a flower in the midst of a rotten field.

The cool spring breeze ran through the air, blowing your hair into your face as you laughed at the young man softly.

“Hello, Dmitri Kravinoff, I’m [Name]. What can I help you with?” you beamed up at him, oh so confused at the adorable man's intentions.

Dmitri was at a loss for words for a while as he looked at you. He’d been admiring you from a far for about twenty minutes, being captivated by your beauty. You had seemed to be working here in the park cafe, writing away on your laptop, scribbling things in your notebook, occasionally sipping at your purple smoothie, nodding along to what he assumed was music playing in your headphones.

“I uhm… You’re beautiful.” he stuttered out eventually, a slight flush on his cheeks as he tried his best to hold eye contact with you, “I was wondering if uhm…” he looked down at his hands again, twisting the ring on his pinkie as he stumbled over his words.

You looked up at him, head slightly tilted as you smiled up at him brightly. “Well?” your soft voice rang through the air, bringing Dmitri back to earth.

“I was wondering if you’d let me- if you’d maybe want to go on a date with me.” the way he looked at you with those big puppy eyes full of hope had you smiling at him so brightly that Dmitri thought he might faint.

The laugh that escaped from you, along with you shaking your head in delight made Dmitri bite the inside of his cheek nervously.

“I’d… I’d love to, Dmitri.” you swore you saw him jump up a little before he balled up his fists in victory.

And so here you were, a week later, walking through the aquarium with the guy you’d been texting all week. Hand in hand, laughing and giggling as you looked at the countless fish, pointing out your favorites, and admiring the man illuminated by the blue of the water. How he knew you loved aquariums was a mystery to you but you loved it.

You’d sat on a bench in front of a massive fish tank filled with lemon sharks and countless other fish as you talked for hours, you never fell silent, and if you did it was to recover from laughing too much.

Afterwards he’d taken you out to dinner at some fancy place you had never heard of before. You had the time of your life with him, Dmitri Kravinoff.

Eventually when the awkwardness had fallen away, which only took about thirty minutes, everything he did, everything he said, came so shyly yet so naturally. He told you the silliest jokes, the best stories, and listened intently as you talked about your own life and told your own stories. Asking questions, taking everything you told him in, looking at you like you were the only thing that really mattered on this planet.

“You’re even, I’d say better, but that’s not even the right word to do you justice. You’re exceptional, special, truly captivating.” Dmitri had said as he walked with you all the way to your front door. He didn’t miss the blush that crept up on your cheeks as you smiled.

“You yourself are a lot more than the shy boy that came up to me last week, you’re… intriguing and… very charming.” you smiled up at him as you stopped in front of your door. “Thank you for today, I haven’t had this much fun in a long while.”

Dmitri basked in your words, his smile hadn’t left his face since earlier today. Just your mere presence had this effect on him that he couldn’t explain, and the way you looked at him had him absolutely in shambles, he loved it.

“The pleasure is mine, you make for a great company. I loved every single second of being with you.” He watched you raise your head, a proud grin on your face as you looked him in the eyes.

“Great, then we should do something like this again sometime soon.”

As you said your goodbyes, you quickly got on your tippy toes and kissed his cheek before turning around and getting inside of your house, leaving a flustered and shocked Dmitri standing on your porch.

You didn’t remember that Selena had pulled you away from the table and back to the restrooms. You had been too out of it to fully register what she was saying or asking you. You’d just blatantly nodded as she talked, too lost in thought as everything came flooding back to you that you’d tried to suppress for the last six months.

Everything was a blur when you walked back to the table but all of a sudden you sobered up, vision clearing, mind going panic mode when that cologne hit your nostrils.

“Darian Madden? Man you have not changed one bit!” The thick Russian accent of Nikolai Kravinoff surrounded your senses. You swallowed thickly as you let Selena walk you back to your seat, making yourself small as you sat down, hoping the elder Kravinoff would not notice you like his son did earlier. You felt Darians gaze on you, obviously confused about your second time getting emotional tonight.

“Last I saw you, you were this tall and running around with my Sergei.” Nikolai held up a hand beside him at the height of his shoulder, his smile dropped as he laid eyes on you. “You.” Your eyes slowly made their way to meet Nikolai’s.

You were certain that fear was written all over your face as you fisted your shaking hands in the skirt of your dress.

“What are you doing here? Wasn’t I clear enough last time, girl?” Your breaths came in short shallow huffs as you were at a loss for words, closing and opening your mouth as your eyes darted between Nikolai and Darian, who was still looking at you in confusion. “Well?! Answer me, girl!” You gulped as Nikolai’s voice echoed through the now eerily quiet room, countless eyes on you as he awaited your answer.

“I… Here with Darian-” you yelped and you heard the gasps from other guests as Nikolai lifted you up by your collar, thumb pressing down on your airway as he did.

“Don’t lie to me! You’re here to see my son! Didn’t I tell you to leave him alone?!” Tears now streamed over your cheeks as you clawed at his hand, desperately trying to get him to release you.

“Woah woah! Your son? Her ex is Dmitri Kravinoff?” Darians voice sounded but you couldn’t give a shit about him right now. Your vision was blurring when you suddenly felt a fist colliding with your cheek.

Screams erupted from around you and you heard the people scrambling to get out. In the corner of your eye you saw Maxwell pull Selena away from the scene. Your knees hit the ground and you gasped for air, a hand coming up to your cheek as the pain spread through your whole face. When you pulled your hand back you saw the red of your blood on it and you looked up at Nikolai, who already had you back up on your feet, ready to strike you again.

“No!” Before you knew it you were pulled back, vision going dark as your face was pulled into a soft material, a hand on the back of your head cradling you closer, shielding you from the danger.

When Dmitri’s oh so familiar cologne hit your nostrils you closed your eyes, relaxing in his arms as if you hadn’t not seen him for six months, as if you weren’t broken up, as if his father hadn’t just almost choked you into unconsciousness before hitting you.

“Dima…” You croaked out as a sob echoed through your chest, your hands tightly gripping at his dress shirt, tears staining the black material. You heard him quietly shush you while he pressed a kiss to your forehead, holding you close and safe. “I…” your voice was quiet and strained, the words refusing to come out of your mouth.

“Pathetic, always standing up for the trash.” you heard Nikolai scoff at his son, his footsteps approaching. Dmitri let go of you, gently pushing you back to where a now very shocked Margaret was standing.

She took you in her arms as she watched how Dmitri dodged his fathers blow, instead only returning the favor and hitting his father square in the face.

“You don’t get to talk about her like that! You do not get to hit her!” you heard Dmitri raise his voice at his father. Dmitri never raised his voice, not at you when you accidentally broke an expensive vase of his, not when you broke up with him, and especially never at his father even he belittled him to no extent, but that seemed to have changed when it came to you now. “That woman is the love of my life and thanks to you I lost her, and now you dare hurt her?!”

“If you had only looked, you’d have seen how amazing she is, how smart and caring. You’d have seen how much I love her! You’d have seen how much she loved me, for me. Something you never did.” you turned your head to look at Dmitri, his back was to you, but you could see Nikolai, glaring at his son as the blood dripped down his chin. “If you ever so much look at her the wrong way or dare lay a finger on her again, I will make sure it’s the last thing you do, papa.” You saw Dmitri ball his fist again, his fathers blood on his knuckles.

Nikolai didn’t say a word before standing up straight and nodding at his youngest son. He just turned around and walked out as if nothing happened, not caring about the few remaining people that scrambled to get out of his way.

“[Name]” Dmitri’s hands cupped your face and you looked up at him with tears still in your eyes. “[Name], my love, I’m so sorry.”

His gaze was so soft, his demeanour was so gentle. He was filled with fear as he searched your eyes, wiping away the tears that fell from your eyes.

“I love you,” your whisper was barely audible but it was loud enough for Dmitri to break into a smile, his eyes lightening with happiness and hope as they darted to your lips. You returned his smile, clasping your hands on his shirt again before pulling him down into a kiss.

God how you had missed this. The way he held you, his gentle nature, him.

“You toughened up…” you whispered as you broke away from the kiss, giggling when he immediately chased your lips with his own, too eager for another kiss.

“I promised myself if I ever got a second chance at making things right, I would not let him ruin it.” one of his hands brushed a lock of hair behind your ear as he spoke ever so softly. “I had to protect you.”

“Honey there was nothing for you to make right.”

-`♡´--`♡´--`♡´--`♡´--`♡´--`♡´--`♡´--`♡´--`♡´--`♡´-

dont forget to like and reblog 💕💕

dont translate, modify or repost my work. you do not have permission.

taglist: @earfq0ake (lmk if you wanna be added to any taglists :3)

#dmitri #dmitri kravinoff x reader #dmitri kravinoff #dmitri smerdyakov #dmitri kravinoff x you #dmitri smerdyakov x reader #dmitri smerdyakov x you #kraven the hunter #sergei kravinoff #kraven x reader #fred hechinger #fred hechinger x reader #dmitri kravinoff x reader angst #angst #sergei kravinoff x reader #sergei kravinoff x you

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the-californicationist · 5 months ago

Note

hi cail! this is sizzleee2 from another account 😅 i was wondering if you could possibly make a fic with anyone from tf141 with fem!reader who immediately after sex feels asexuel and gets a little distant, doesnt need aftercare because shes never had any and then finds out how good aftercare feels??? idk, if you dont want to then no pressure! you r just my favourite writer and i love to read your fics!!

-sk0 <3

I’m slowly making my way through my ask box, and you probably forgot about this but I didn’t! lol 😂 I don’t think I fulfilled this request though. Epic fail on my part. Aftercare?? Maybe. If you squint. I’m so sorry. I just got too horny for Gaz. Forgive me? 🩷🩷

TW: female reader, the expected amount of Kyle sass (see gif)

——— MDNI ———

Tethered

—

The skin-searing warmth of his body left you as he finished, falling away and leaving you cold and lonely. The air of the room rushed across your skin, reminding you that he was done with you. He’d used you, and much like the tarred end of a smoked cigarette, you were filthy, you were wet and sticky from his mouth, and you were no longer smoldering from his burning affection. You had been savored and snuffed out, and that was that.

As soon as his heavy frame rolled off of you, you flung the sheet away and darted into the bathroom, ready to be clean again.

You wished you could be like those girls in the movies; the ones who curled around their emptied lovers, laying her head upon his chest, letting him squeeze and fondle her as he dozed, playing in the sweaty mess of her hairline, skirting his brutish fingers along the slope of her brow.

But you weren’t. You were something else. You weren’t sure exactly what, but your past partners had called you all sorts of things. Low-maintenance. Easy-going. Little Miss Quickie.

“Hey,” the door to the bathroom was wrenched open, and in the dark portal of its frame stood your most recent conquest: Sergeant Kyle Garrick, scowling down at you.

He was still naked, as were you, and now that the sparkling fire of your pleasure had been extinguished, it was less exciting and more practical than it should’ve been. Sure, the heavy musculature of his neck and shoulders were still beautifully aggressive. The broad span of his chest was yet as inviting as it had been at the bar last night. The deep v-cut of his Adonis belt was just as tantalizing, particularly when it lead to a softer, shinier, well-used cock, still dripping desire from its gleaming slit.

“What?” You asked, turning to face him, your washcloth in hand.

“Where’d you go? I’m not done,” he asked.

As Gaz stepped forward into your space, you turned to give him your back, watching him in the mirror, feeling and seeing his enormous arms curling around your shoulders and belly like a giant kraken, ready to pull you back into the sea of his bed.

“You felt done to me,” you shrugged, continuing to wash your face, “Was it not good for you?”

The incredulous look in his eye froze you to the spot, and the suds of your soap foamed and popped across your cheek as you waited for his reply.

He pulled himself away, unwinding himself like ribbon from a spool, slipping through you like sand through loose fingers.

“It was proper brilliant. You know it was. You were there,” he laughed, a hint of bitterness tinging the edge of his mirth, “Am I wrong, babes?” Then, his timbre darkened with a quiet uncertainty, “Am I wrong?”

“No,” you turned to face him, wiping your cheek clean, “It was really nice. It’s not you. I’m just usually Ubering home by now.”

You raised your eyebrows at him, pushing back. But he didn’t shy away. He smiled, almost knowingly, as if he expected you to say as much.

“Not much of a cuddler, is that it?” He smiled a bit wider, reaching his arms around you cautiously, waiting for you to pull away again.

You shook your head, and he held your chin in one of his large fists, lifting you up to face him. He studied you, looking into your eyes as if trying to see your mind working away behind them,

“Want me to show you how?”

You met his gaze, and you didn’t know what expression you wore on your face. It was hard to even describe the emotion you were feeling, much less name it. But, when he looked down at you, he seemed to know.

Gaz grabbed your hand in his and dragged you over to the large shower behind him. He turned the water on hot and coaxed you inside. For a few moments, you thought it may be too warm for you to stand it, but as your skin became accustomed to the steam and the heat, you felt your body relax. He didn’t bother with soaping you up or washing your hair; he simply held you against him, your head tucked into his chest, shadowed by his hulking form, covering you in the oppressive warmth of his affection and the pouring water. It flooded your senses, and you felt yourself becoming more pliant to his whims, more open to suggestion, blooming under his touch like a reluctant bud, afraid of the bite from the frost you knew too well.

Because this wasn’t forever. He’d say goodbye eventually. You’d feel the sting of loneliness one way or another. Better to rip the bandage off now and get it over with. Right?

“Hey, come back,” he held your jaw in his strong fingers, making you meet his eyes again, “That’s it. Stay with me, baby. You don’t need to go anywhere. Don’t need to do anything. Just be here, right now, with me. I’ve got you.”

You didn’t know why, but you rejoiced to hear those words. There was something in the way he insisted, something in the comfort of his steady, unhurried embrace that allowed you to melt down into his arms.

When he began to rub you down, chasing the rivulets and currents of the cascading water, you didn’t feel rushed. There was no urgency. He fondled you and caressed you; he squeezed your soft breasts in his palms, but he wasn’t after an orgasm - not yours nor his. He just wanted to touch you.

You felt his hand find your tender pussy, his fingers stretching their way into your hole, still sore from taking his challenging length, still slick from the sticky mixture of your come.His fingertips pressed inside of you, and it was his turn to sigh, his body relaxing into yours, warm to his bones from how joyful he felt at being so welcomed into your hot core.

Pressing your head into his chest, you let yourself live in the moment. You were allowing yourself to be in this steamy limbo with him, feeling him as he was feeling you and yet in no rush to the finish line.

“I’ve got you, babes,” he kissed your forehead, pushing into your cunt even deeper, rocking rather than thrusting his hand against you, letting you grind your hips into the heel of his palm, “I don’t wanna stop. But, if you —“

You shook your head, and even though you weren’t looking at him, you felt him smile. You whispered into his chest,

“It’s alright. We don’t have to stop.”

“Come back to bed with me, then,” Gaz demanded gently, his voice holding a stronger challenge than it had before, steeled by your precarious consent.

You looked up at him, unsure if you could give him what he wanted, but you were willing to try.

You nodded, and he flipped off the water, reaching out of the door to wrap you in a big towel. You watched him dry off quickly before leading you back to bed. He climbed in before you, turning back the duvet, giving you a shadowy little burrow to stuff your body into. You turned away from him, your back to his chest. You held your breath in your lungs still for a moment, wondering and waiting, but once you felt his skin on your skin, you could relax again.

Reaching behind you, you found his hard prick and guided it so that he would slip between your legs, nestled right below your lips, curving through your chubby thighs and up against your mons. The trembling sigh that came from his throat as his cock slotted itself into place lit a fire in your chest again, reigniting the once-cold embers.

He thrust himself against you, testing the waters, waiting for you to reject his advances, but you canted your hips, letting the wetness of your hole glide against the body of his cock, licking him like a mouth as he rutted between your legs. His tongue was on your neck, his hands were on your breasts and belly, his scent invaded your nose; he was everywhere. You didn’t have a chance to second-guess yourself or your smoldering excitement because he was like the steam from his shower; he suffocated your doubts with his desire.

“That’s my good girl,” he muttered against your kiss-bitten flesh, “Use her on me like that. Just like that.”

Gaz reached down to cup your mons, his fingers cradling his head each time he fucked his cock against your folds, keeping it pressed into the slit of your wet quim, nudging your clit every time he shoved himself forward. You helped him, rocking your hips back and forth, matching his rhythm, listening to the soaked, milking noises your sex was making with him.

“See?” He whispered, slurring his words from the pleasure that he was stoking inside of himself, using you to build his fire back to a high roar, “A cuddle isn’t so bad. That’s why you gotta stay here in bed with me, baby. Give me a chance to get hard for you again, yeah?”

You nodded, moaning in agreement, arching your neck to give him more room to work his mouth on you. He took advantage of it right away, feasting on your sensitive skin, raking his sharp teeth across you like the flat edge of a knife, stinging but not ready to draw blood.

“Wanna take you again. Let me have you,” he snarled, all his gentility burning away against his blazing want.

Before you could so much as whimper his name, his hand pressed down until his cockhead was prodding against the soft mouth of your cunt, waiting for your body to swallow him whole. He held his breath as he dipped inside of you. He went slowly, inching his way through your soaked walls, drowning his long shaft in its familiar sheath, groaning and shaking from the bliss of it.

You twisted your hand in the sheets, nearly screaming from the pleasure, too full to move, overstimulated and yet begging him for more with the hungry grind of your hips.

Then, he used his heavy body to shove you beneath him, rolling you onto your belly, pinning you beneath his chest and wrapping his arms around you, stealing away any chance of your escape. But you didn’t want to escape, not anymore. All of your thoughts had been rewired and rewritten with his ink pen, reminding you that you were his to take.

“Ungh, fuck!” He bit down on the nape of your neck, whimpering in a dark, gravelly tone, “Just like that. Squeeze me, baby. Use that fuckin’ pussy on me.”

“Gaz…” You keened, feeling the edge of your orgasm rising within you like a white-hot sun.

“What?” He snapped a little cruelly, “Still wanna go home? Fuck that. Not done with you, baby. Gonna make this tight little pussy remember the shape of me, yeah? I’ll keep you hungry for it.”

As your legs began to shake, Gaz fucked himself into you even deeper, reaching too far and stretching you too wide, forcing a wall of pleasure to slam into your core, making you clench around him that much harder. You felt yourself flood with your own sticky come, and right at the top of your blinding joy, you heard him hiss against your ear, chuckling in a teasing, devilish tone,

“That’s what I thought. Not goin’ anywhere, are ya?”

#call of duty fanfic #cod mw2 #call of duty #cod #cod mwii #kyle garrick cod #gaz garrick #kyle gaz garrick x reader #x female reader #gaz smut #gaz x reader #gaz cod #kyle gaz garrick #cod smut

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redocity · 4 months ago

Note

I've been really stuck on Buck having a secret relationship with Bobby's niece. Idk much else for the request it's just been thought recently and I was wondering if you could do something with it. Your writing is insanely good I've loved literally every piece you've written! 💗

PLAYING WITH FIRE — E.BUCKLEY

why did buck always have to fall in love with really complicated people?

buck x bobby’s niece!reader | 1.0k | fluff? | masterlist.

a/n — thank you so much ml, enjoy 🫶

Buck had always been good at compartmentalising.

At least, that’s what he told himself as he buttoned his shirt in the soft glow of the early morning light.

Behind him, you shifted in the bed, a soft smile on your face even in sleep. Your quiet breaths spilled over the pillow, your arm stretching to find the warmth of the spot he was leaving.

He paused, letting his gaze linger on your peaceful form, just for a second.

Bobby Nash’s niece.

Buck exhaled, rubbing his hand over his face.

You’re playing with fire, he thought. And wasn’t that just his specialty?

The fact that Bobby had no idea made the whole thing worse. Or maybe better, depending on how you looked at it. You weren’t just Bobby’s niece; you were like his second daughter, the one he got to raise like he would’ve his own—smart, compassionate, and fiercely independent.

You worked as a trauma counsellor at the hospital, often crossing paths with the 118 during the rough calls.

That’s how him and you met.

And now you were in his bed. How did he end up here?

It hadn’t started as anything serious.

At first, it was just a shared coffee in the hospital cafeteria after his embolism. The kind of conversation that left Buck’s hands shaking and his heart heavy. You’d found him there, in a hospital bed with a cup of black coffee that had gone cold, and offered him a warm smile and a quiet space to unload.

“It’s okay to talk about it,” you’d said gently, your voice like a balm to his frayed nerves.

And for some reason, he had.

From there, it became a habit. You’d meet him for coffee, sometimes under the fluorescent lights of the hospital, other times at a little café a few blocks away. The conversations started out light—music, movies, shared anecdotes about the job. But then they grew deeper. He told you things he hadn’t told anyone else. About Abby, about his parents, about Maddie and Daniel.

You listened. You saw him.

And somewhere along the way, coffee turned into dinner, which turned into stolen kisses in the shadows of parking garages, and eventually nights like this one—ones that ended with skin-to-skin underneath the sheets, with a connection that felt equal parts exhilarating and terrifying.

But every time he looked at you, a pang of guilt twisted in his chest.

Bobby.

He’d be furious. No—furious didn’t even cover it. Protective didn’t even cover it. Bobby would see this as a betrayal. You weren’t just family to him—you were his heart, one of the last pieces of a life he’d spent years rebuilding after unimaginable loss.

Buck knew he should tell him. Every time you looked at him with those soft, trusting eyes, the words sat heavy on his tongue. But then you’d smile, and he’d think, Just a little longer. Just a little more time.

Now, as he stood by the edge of the bed, watching you stir, he wondered how much longer he could keep this up.

“Buck?” Your voice was thick with sleep, but there was a warmth in it that made his chest tighten.

“Yeah?” He tilted his head slightly, giving you a small smile, trying to play it cool even though his heart was suddenly pounding.

“You leaving already?”

Your eyes were still half-closed, but there was something undeniably familiar in the way you looked at him, like you belonged here with him.

He stepped toward the bed, sitting on the edge, his fingers brushing over your temple. “I have a shift,”

You nodded, but then your hand reached out, gently pulling him from the nape of his neck down to your lips. "Stay a little longer. Just... a few minutes."

Buck hesitated. It wasn’t like him to linger, to let himself be drawn into something that might complicate everything, but something about you made him want to be selfish, just for once.

He pressed his forehead against yours, letting himself believe—for just a little while longer—that the world outside didn’t exist.

That Bobby wouldn’t find out.

That the fire he was playing with wouldn’t burn everything to the ground.

—

By the time Buck arrived at the station, the weight of the morning was firmly back on his shoulders. He was distracted enough that he didn’t hear Bobby approaching until the older man clapped a hand on his shoulder.

“You look like you’ve been up all night,” Bobby said, studying him closely.

“Didn’t sleep great,” Buck pressed his lips together in a smile. He wasn’t completely lying.

Bobby’s brow furrowed, but he didn’t press. “Well, shake it off. We’ve got a long shift ahead. And hey, I invited my niece to come by the station later. Figured it’d be good for her to meet the team properly.”

Buck froze. “Your niece?”

“Yeah,” Bobby said with a warm smile. “You’ve met her at the hospital, right? Smart kid. You’ll like her.”

Buck swallowed hard, his mind racing. “Yeah, I think we’ve crossed paths.”

Bobby didn’t seem to notice the way Buck’s voice tightened. “Great. She’s got the day off, so I told her to swing by around lunch with Athena. Be on your best behaviour, huh?”

Buck nodded numbly, watching Bobby walk away. His stomach churned as he imagined the storm brewing just over the horizon.

You’re playing with fire, Buck, he thought again.

And this time, the flames felt impossibly close.

#9 1 1 #evan buckley #9 1 1 fanfiction #evan buckley x reader #buck x reader #oliver stark #evan buckley fluff

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moonieandi · 8 months ago

Text

snapshots pt. 8 | stanley pines x f!reader

summary: you and stanley go fishing

warnings (TW): swearing, panic attack/panic-inducing scenarios, slight gore/violence

tags: mutual-pining, fluff, angst, action, affection

notes: idk anything about ice fishing so pls don’t get my ass for this okay, this was v different to write than my usual long drawn out heart gutting character analyses that I love (not that that is NOT here) but all the movement was deffff hard so it took me a minute but hey this is what I wanted imma do it ya know

Also i configured this chapter in like three separate ways in my head and it was so hard to chose? But i think the one i did end up writing is most true to their dynamic so far. To be of note for the v stubble reference im giving here but yall know The Kiss by painter Gustav Klimt? Ya… that…. Thats here (spot it if you can) as always thank you for the kind messages and notes and comments, love yall <3 also comment below if you'd like to be on a tag list I should maybe organize that hehe

word count: 6.5k

| masterlist | ix |

January, 1987

She had found them both nice fold-out chairs at the flea market just that last season, along with fishing poles the nice old man insisted went with the seats also. Talked her ear off about how he used to go ice fishing with his son, before said son went off to college.

Now he wouldn’t be home during the ice fishing season, so he saw no use for his chairs or his poles. But she did.

Stan would tell her flippantly about his youth from time to time, usually if not always said stories incorporated Stanford in one way or another. It seemed that the two barely, if ever, separated during their youth. Something that upset her more, that her friend had never spoken of his brother to her in the six years they had known each other. She didn’t think he would speak of it all as fondly, these memories, considering he never confided in her about Stanley, to begin with.

Stan would speak of the shoreline in New Jersey, of the sharp sand beneath his feet and hidden caves along the coast they both would trek through. Talk of the setting sun, of racing his brother home in the dark down paved streets back to their shared room.

He spoke most fondly of a boat though, one that had taken both twins years to configure.

She figured the fishing poles could be some sort of link, at least in her mind.

That and they spent some of their summers down by the dock at the local lake anyway. Splashing in windy tides off the dock and watching boats go by until sunset was a great way to cool off. That or revisiting the pool, where Stan would insist upon ice cream for the short drive home.

She figured he would wait for the season opener to go fishing. Considering she gave him the poles and chairs in December, a quick wave to Christmas, a holiday he laughed off on the regular. He would routinely celebrate it with her, just for the holiday cookies and cheesy movies he wouldn’t admit he loved. But he was Jewish, after all. At least raised in a Jewish household, he told her flippantly, after opening his gift this last December. Laughing at her blushing face, and flabbergasted stuttering, asking him why he would bother with all this. She sat straight when he said it was for her. Because she wanted to, so he would. Not that he was a religious man, anyway.

He found it amusing this holiday season then, to find her struggling to make some traditional dishes his mother would make each year come December for the holidays. Nothing he necessarily missed, but something he found endearing nonetheless. Her usual attention to detail, and odd need to ensure his comfort.

The fishing poles were a welcomed gift though, and he lit up at them and the differing tackles the nice man at the flea market had also gifted her. Hugged her into his side, while he ranted and raved about being able to fish off the docks come summer.

But he didn’t want to wait.

Something she thought rather glumly in the very early morning that January weekday. The sun not even having made its appearance, she had stumbled out of her bed around 4 a.m., having promised to reluctantly go ice fishing with said enthusiastic man. They stood before the porch door now, while he knelt in front of her, lacing up tall winter boots and pulling over her snow pants. Tucking her in, layer upon layer. Putting to use some winter clothes they both had rangled out of donation bins that very first cold season. The snow pants and boots had only ever really been used when they would trek through the outskirts of the woods, searching for clues to Stanford’s other journals.

She was still half asleep on her feet, falling forward into Stan’s bent shoulder in front of her to groan. For some reason, he was wide awake, and grinning like a fool despite it being 4 a.m. That dumb look on his face reminded her why she even crawled out of her cacoon of blankets. He was beyond happy to be able to go fishing. Something he couldn’t even wait for a warmer season to do.

He seemed a smidge like his younger self when he was closest to water. Some of his favorite memories are those ones with Stanford by his side and sand intertwined in his hair. His skin dark in the sun and his toes were deep in the tide of the sand.

It seemed more distant now, as distant as Ford was to him now. He wanted to ground himself here too, and some of his new favorite memories are of them hanging at the end of the dock. His feet in the cold water of the lake, and her nudging his shoulder. Teasing him, edging him off the docks’ wood and into the cold water with her. He preferred the summer to the snowy winters, but he figured they could make some new memories by the water now also. Even if they were colder ones.

So he more or less begged her to join him. Promising that he would handle the fish after she made a disgusted face at the thought of stripping the fish of their skin and bones for the meal they would make of the catch. She agreed though, happy to tag along if it pleased him.

He stood from his knelt position in front of her, standing to reach behind him to grab his red coat from the coat rack. Turning back to her to fold her arms into the coat also, her eyes still blurry as she smiled at him slightly giddy.

He had a gift for her that last December also. A coat folded into shitty wrapping newspaper he had thought to repurpose. She smiled at the blue coat but quickly became confused when she pulled it out of the wrapping to find it was far too big for her own physique to be for her. He had quickly pulled out another present for her, presenting her with another newspaper-wrapped gift. Which she tore open with haste, and rocked up quickly to her feet to dance around their small living room, his old red coat in her arms.

It was hers now, and she reveled in the shitty coat. His smell still lingered in the seam line, and when she leaned her head far back into the hood she could pick up on his shampoo. It kept her warm, despite also not fitting her physique.

He had woken up earlier than her that morning, putting the appropriate supplies for ice picking into the trunk next to their foldable chairs, the tackles, and the fishing hooks. So they made their way out into the dark, ducking into the car next to each other to make for the lake in the early morning.

She hummed along to the radio as per usual, random songs interspersed in between the local morning forecast. She stopped though now, picking her head up from the back of the seat to look over at Stan.

“We missed the entrance to the dock.”

“Nah there's another one we can go to. Farther down, less people.”

She hummed, smiling over at him. What he actually meant was there would be no lake office to report to. So no need to register them for the lake that day, and no stupid state fee to pay for fishing on the lake. Amused at his shortcuts, she turns back to watch the pine trees pass out the car window.

It was a sharp, nose-burning 10 degrees Fahrenheit that day, according to the radio forecast. Only made worse somehow with the creeping darkness from the horizon line. The sun slinked slowly in the coldness of January.

He made his way out first, the car’s cabin light flashing on as he grinned over at her. Securing his blue coat closed quickly before getting out to stomp a path in the fresh snow around the car. Pulling around the sides to pull open her door, before chugging around to the trunk to unload the supplies he claimed they needed.

She knew how to fish, but had never ventured into ice fishing. Mainly because the cold was beyond unappealing to her. But the thermos Stan had presented to her before making out the door that morning heated her hands enough to dismiss the onslaught of negativity thrumming through her. And partially woke her up on the drive over. Stepping out into the crunchy cold snow to help Stan gather supplies.

He shuffled her chair into her hands, slugging everything else into his own broad arms. He could reasonably carry everything, stomping forward in the snow to make a path for her to follow in.

They had made a spot on the ice, the snowy shoreline a good bit away. Stan claiming the best spots must be farther out. Because the farther out, the bigger the fish. She sat, glancing around the empty ice. When Stan meant fewer people he meant no people. A frozen dock far off near the shoreline also, its wooden structure covered in ice. She watched him now, the fishing poles cradled in her lap, and the thermos warm in her hands. He’s bent in front of her, his mittened hands working an ice auger to break a solid hole through the thick layer of ice.

Grunting, he stands back up, hands on his hips admiring his work.

“Is the ice too thin here?” She observes.

He tilts his head left, turning to her now. “No, doll. Perfectly fine right here. We’ll only be here until a little after sunrise anyway.”

He sits in his own foldable chair that she had set up for him while he was finagling with the ice. Their chairs positioned side by side, a little distance between them and the whole he had just made. He reaches between them, opening up the tackle box to shuffle around drawers, looking for something in its depth.

“Close your eyes, hun.”

She rolls her eyes, closing them, while shuffling the thermos between her thighs to hold out her hands in wait. He places something in her mittened hands, it’s slightly heavy in them now.

“Open ‘em.”

She opens them to see an odd black contraption in her hands. Two knobs, a dark screen, and a long antenna on what she presumes is a battery-powered electronic. Almost too dark to make out what it was, but it hit her and she gasped.

“Ta-Da!”

“A radio!” She sings, clutching it closer to her chest and swinging in her seat to knock her knees with his. Clawing at his shoulder to fold herself into his neck and coat’s furry trim. She wouldn’t question where he got it, just revel that he had thought to, for her.

“I know you weren’t too eager to go fishing with me, doll. But I figured this could make up for some of it.” He chuckled, readjusting his hat on his head after they pulled away. Knee’s still knocking between them.

“I’d do anything with you Stan.” She hums, unthinking, as she looks down at the device in her hands. Tweaking around the knobs and the antenna to turn it on. She misses his flush next to her.

She gets it working quickly, the music faintly staticy in the background of Stan attempting to put lures at the end of their poles.

He gets her’s ready first, leaning forward in his seat to situate the pole in her hands. Pointing out the slack line and the type of lure he put on the end of her pole. She’s too distracted, like she always is when he’s probably explaining something vaguely important.

The music hums between them, perched on the tackle box he had closed. His cheeks flushed from the cold, his hat slumping down the back of his head, hair peeking out around the rim and sticking to his forehead. He leans in closer, his knee and thigh along her own. His own covered hand reaching for hers, folding it around the pole for her to hold.

They enjoy each other's company until the sun peaks up along the horizon, a good hour in. As they pass the coffee-filled thermos back and forth, she hums to the radio. Enjoying stories Stan told about tourists from the end of the last season. Telling her about their ridiculous questions he had to work around last minute.

“Then he asked me if they were extinct!”

“What you tell him?”

“Well he couldn’t have been more than eight years old, and he got all teary-eyed when he asked me.” Stan waves his hand around, drumming up the memory of when a child had asked him if the fake displayed plady-beaver was the last of its kind.

“Annnnddd?” She hums, sipping on the last of their shared beverage.

“And I may or may not have said they were not.” He shrugs. “Was easy to convince the kid’s dad to buy him a plushy.”

She laughs, thinking about the stupid merchandise she’s still not used to, that she sometimes restocked in the front of the house. But of course, Stan didn’t have the heart to really crush the kid’s spirit. Sad kids equaled less money probably, in his mind. That and he had a weird affinity of being about to communicate with them like no other.

There’s a tug on her line suddenly, not the first in the hour they’d been at their spot, but the first real strong one she’s ever felt. Jerking her pole, bending it forward. Both her hands met the pole, yanked straight in her seat suddenly.

“Woah!” He says, sitting forward and reaching for her pole also. His hands encased hers around the pole. “Hold it tight, hun.” Grunting in her ear.

But the pulling got worse, had them both standing from their chairs. His arms around hers, helping her reel back the pole, pulling it back towards his left shoulder. His arms encasing her, pulling her flush with his front.

“I gotcha.” He grunts again, close to her ear.

“Do you?” Gasping at the strength of the pull along the pole.

It seems to drag them closer and closer to the ice hole he had put in the ground not even an hour ago. His feet planted firm, yet scrapping against the ice. Hers fumbling, dipping under the strength of being pulled forward. Her hands tight, beginning to sweat and ache in the casing of her mittens. A heat around the ring of her hat. He’s hot behind her, warmth seeping out from his coat and onto her back. He feels firm, and yet they both continue a slow crawl forward.

Until it tugs. It tugs so hard that she instinctually releases her grip. Her hands were still steady against the pole though, still beneath Stan’s own hands.

The jerk has them both flung forward, his feet no longer steady, flipping against the ice. She’s still between his arms when they fall forward, inching towards the hole. He turns them somehow, taking the brunt of it on his right shoulder.

Her head swims, having met the ground rather suddenly. But she’s between his arms, her hands having let go of the fishing pole. He’d let them slip from the pole, his arms tight around her, trying to take the force of the impact.

“Stan.” She mutters, mushy between them. Her head pounded for a minute, as they continued to slide against the ice. His chin propped on her head, warm around her still.

He doesn’t respond, because he’s given no time to. Another harsh tug on the pole sent him forward quickly towards the hole. He thinks fast though, bending his arms, hooking his feet along her legs, and pulling her out of his grasp.

She slides along the ice and snow, his push along her legs and waist burned. She turned, pushing herself up on her hands. Grasping at the snow to get some balance. She had run into the chairs and tackle box. All their supplies scattered along the ice. The radio was static behind her.

It had all happened so fast, her voice cracking in the cold air. Calling his name but not finding him. One moment he was there, the next gone. The water still.

They had been pulled forward so suddenly, a quick five-second span between the tug and her head meeting the ice. And he was gone as soon as she had lifted herself again, the ice cracking along the sides of the former small hole.

“Stanley!” Scrapping, crawling towards the hole. The surface wet and slick from the cold lake water that had seeped through the cracks along the hole now. Stan’s visage far from view, the top of the water dark.

She stares in what feels like forever but is only quantifiable in the movements of the sun. It’s rising now, around her. Sparkling on the ice and water around her. Something she’d marvel at, have her grasping at Stan’s shoulder. Nudging him to see as she does.

She thinks only briefly before shucking off her hat and gloves, beginning to unlace her boots. She’d follow him, into the dark depths.

A deep continuous thump. Running along the ice. First near her feet, then farther and farther from her. It has her racing towards it, the vibrations along the ice guiding her along. It must be him, must be that something that pulled him into the dark murky water. The rhythmic thudding has her racing back to the supplies. Fumbling for the axe Stan had packed to help pick out the ice in the hole.

Running full force back, the ice cracking beneath her legs. Shoelaces dancing around her feet, her fingers nippy and uncovered around the wooden handle of the axe.

It cracks, sickenly loud and sudden. Water bursts beneath her shoes, seeping up and around her. The ground opens up in front of her, splitting along the horizon line. A flash of blue precariously balanced in the large maw of a blurred creature.

It shakes the ice, splintering and fracturing it below her feet. The weight of the creature resting the front of its body along the ice. Shaking the striking blue figure in its jaw, trying to subdue it.

She stands still in the ankle-deep water, trying to make out the blurry figure in the maw of the anomaly. It strikes her then that it could be nothing else but Stanley, confirmed by the sputtering grunts the figure heaves, coughing up cold water from his lungs.

She stands frozen only until then, stepping forward into the slowly sinking ice bath. Ax swung behind her shoulder, ready to slice along the neck of the beast in hopes it would release her husband.

He clamors in the cage of teeth above. Raised his large hand into a well-practiced fist, blindly throwing said fist to meet the eye of the beast.

The hit startles the beast, cracking open its jaw to release Stan, a sudden sharp screech creeping up its large neck through its throat. Rattling her bones as she leaps forward in the ice and water, bringing the ax into the meat of the beast's neck.

It crawls back further, slinking back into the dark cold waters. She stumbles back through the ice and the water until she feels snow beneath her unlaced boots again, the ax gone from her grasp and embedded in the skin of the anomaly. The beast is there and gone in a flash, scrambling back beneath the water.

Stan has the air knocked out of him, having landed on his back. His head cracked against the ice and water below, the cold creeping in through his clothes. He opens his mouth to groan but finds only his shallow breath and the puff of heated air leaves his mouth. The sun creeping above the horizon now, something he can only gauge by the heat on his face. The rest of him rock solid and shivering under the weight of his wet clothes.

A sudden eclipse above his head, the sun, and shadows shaded by a beautiful face. Her face shadowed by the sun, her hat gone and her hair spilling all around her head like a halo. Her cheeks flush from the cold, from the adrenaline. It could be the cold or the way the light looks around her head, but he swore she must have been an angel.

He’s muttering when she finally reaches him, stumbling through the cracked ice and wet water. Her only thought was getting to him. He was beyond sense when she did make it to him, clutching at his tattered and soaked blue coat. He was soaked, drenched to the bone. His hat gone and his hair icy along his head, his gloves gone also, a boot missing from his left foot. And he’s drenched. It all stuck to his body, freezing quickly in the icy temperature. She had to get him home, get him out of these clothes, and heat him up.

She runs her hands along his coat first, checking for punctures, for blood. He had been dragged several yards under the water in the toothy jaw of said beast. But no punctures and no blood made themselves apparent through his coat. Something she’ll have to access later.

A thump along the ice has her whipping her head around. The vibration rippling along the ice and the shards of the broken lake surface. The beast lingered in the area, waiting for them to be off guard again.

She wastes no time, lifting Stan’s large arm up and above her shoulder. Leveraging his body up to be leaned against her side and her back. All those stories about mothers and daughters and adrenaline ring in her head, a truth to the stories of women and abnormal strength in times of strife. She would ache tomorrow, and be glad of it anyways.

He unconsciously shuffles his feet, and she makes note that he’s somewhat conscious. The ice helps her slip them both along the good hundred yards she has until they reach the shoreline. Their supplies the least of her worries, and the anxious thought of the beast meeting her back out there in the wreckage of it all. She does not turn back to look when abandoning it all.

It’s harder folding his stiff body into the passenger seat. His legs flopped into the car last. She curses, reaching over him to buckle him in and then making for the driver's side. She rarely drove them, it was more of a special occasion between the two of them. She had only ever driven once in the winter and had been deeply scared of the slipping ice and heavy snowfall. But the sky was clear and she’d put the thought of ice away for a long while.

She curses again, reaching over to Stan to feel up the inside of his coat pockets for the keys. He stirs at the movement, shrugging off her touch, shivering in his seat.

“Not Doc’.” He mutters, his head spinning.

“What?”

“You’re not Doc’.” He grunts again, his lips loose. His head hurts like a motherfucker.

“I am!” She hisses, hands pushing his away, reaching for his pockets again, looking for the keys.

“Oh.” He looks back, eyes blurry under the odd pressure along the back of his head. This person sounded like his wife, he’d admit. Shifting his head to lean against the back of the long bench, making out the flush on her face and the halo of hair around her head. He thought this was his angel? He guessed it was the same thing in his mind, anyway.

She’s still ruffling through his soaked half-frozen jacket. “Hi, angel.” He says, smiling down at her frusstrated face. Why was she so frazzled?

He’s grinning like an idiot, and he just acted like he didn’t know who she was. Like she wasn’t her. Calling her angel? He’d only ever done that in her dream. That achingly sick dream she had of them, of them in this very car. Of his weight above her, of his breath along the crook of her neck. Of his kiss.

She shakes it off. Finally finding the keys folded into a very frozen and flat pocket along his chest. Turning back to the wheel, starting the car up, and peeling out of the parkway backward. Leaving the same way they had come in.

She races home, glancing over at Stan stiff in the passenger seat. His eyes hadn’t left her figure but seemed distant. His thoughts far beyond him, and his coat and pants were frozen against him. His hair melts off his head in the car, still wet but no longer frozen to his scalp. Messy wet hair tucked around his big ears.

She parks and throws open doors as quickly as she physically can. Slipping in the snow, tripping over her loose boots. Fingers frigid when she reaches for him to move him out of the passenger side.

She knows the signs of hypothermia. Knows the dangers of prolonged exposure to cold, and dropping body temperature. Doing math in her head, hoping he had been exposed short enough for her to physically raise his temperature before his heart began to slow. Before blood began to sludge its way through his veins.

He looks as blue as his coat, his arm slugged back over her shoulder as she attempts to get him up the stairs. The slurred speech, the confusion, the dulled skin. It made her heart race, taking steps two at a time to drag him to the upstairs restroom. To the bath.

She sets him against the open door, running and slipping along the tile, turning on the bath to its warmest temperature. The water would be scalding against his cold skin, would sting and tingle in contrast to his wet clothes, but it was the only way she thought to raise his temperature.

She rushes back to him, kneeling in front of him, grabbing at his coat and pants to pull the wet clothes from him. He’s smiling again, giggling at her attempt to uncloth him.

“Could have asked hun.” He jokes, but she cries. He’s so out of it, so gone from this reality and it shakes her bones. He’s here and not all at once.

He thinks he sees her clearer here in the yellow bathroom light, hot fog swelling around them from the facet. She has her hands all over him, eager to get him out of wet clothes that stick hard against his body. Didn’t she know? That all she had to do was ask and he would shed any layer to get closer to her? He giggles again, leaning into her hot hands against his cold blue body.

She manages to get everything but his boxers and socks off him, a flush to her face. Not for lacking of trying though, but Stan would laugh and shake her hand away. Muttering under his breath between them when she would reach for the waistband of his usual blue loose boxers. So she luggs his wingspan along her back again, leveraging him up to move him to the scalding water. Heat bubbling up in clouds around the water. Bruises along his chest have begun to form from the pressure and weight of the beast's teeth and jaw. They’d turn purple and swell soon, a good sign she sighed. A swell meant blood was flowing fast still.

He hisses, his head rocking back along the edge of the clawed tub when he finally is able to sit in the water. It’s hot, too hot. It hurts to breathe in the heat, and he attempts to lift his lungs above the water to gain air again. The muggy water hurts his skin and burns him. But her hand meets his chest, pushing him back into the scalding water.

“Stay.” She commands, eyes wavering when she looks at him now. Melted into the porcelain of the tub. He’s still shivering. He doesn’t even register it but his body has been shaking, vibrating, this entire time. Moving his muscles in an attempt to warm him up.

She reaches to turn the hot water back on, cursing, beating her hand along the rim of the tub when the water comes out cold. It’s all gone. She looks down at him again, her hand moving along his chest, trying to generate heat where her hand was. “Stay, Stan. Stay in the fucking water.”

“Yes ma’am.” He mutters, still smiling at her like an idiot. God, she was pretty, god her hand felt nice along his cold bitter skin. She was out the door so quickly. Was it possible to miss someone who was just in the other room?

She’s barreling down the stairs, flipping on every gas burner in her wake on the kitchen stove. Stumbling to the cupboard, pulling out saucepans and the like to put water in. She’d boil it, damnit. Like her grandmother used to do for her when she was preparing her bath.

She doesn’t breathe until every corner of the stove is full. Leaned over the countertop next to the burners. Her hand rubbed along her chest, along her heart. Self-soothing, the purpose of the continuous motion above the erratic beating. She had tunnel vision up until now, suddenly noticing that she hadn’t even flicked on the kitchen light. Hadn’t even closed the front door.

She had been scared. Still was. Shaken beyond something she knew. It pained her to be in the next room, afraid of looking over her shoulder and not finding him there. She’d never lead them through crowds again, never let him stray far from her peripheral. Because then he would be gone, could be gone.

Ice seeps in through her snow pants, and she tugs off her boots too. Socks wet against the kitchen tile. Her hands shake as she pulls her boots loose.

She had almost lost him. Lost him for good. It was a shell shock beyond her, beyond her imagination. For the last five years, it was hard to conjure up adventures and trips without him. The thought of flippantly leaving him behind never crossed her mind. Hadn’t ever left her mind. Not after storming in through the shack's door, not after his confession to her across the dim kitchen table, across their kitchen table.

She sits there now, feeling like it was a lifetime ago, but knowing she could blink and mistake the past for the present. He had reached across to her that night, across the table. Held his palms face up when he asked for help. When he confided in a four-second mistake he had made. She had hesitated then, to reach for him. To reach across and find assurance between them, to fold her hands into his own. She had judged initially. But they had both made mistakes. Both made mirror image mistakes, it felt. She didn't want to hesitate to reach for him ever again. She just feared he would be gone before she could. Feared he would disappear along her shoulder line.

She had thought it was obvious, the unspoken agreement between them. That they both meant something to the other. That her dreams threaded into a deeper reality, and that the jokes they shared weren’t some passing balm to deal with it all. That the late nights in front of the T.V. analyzing movies were for the thrill of each other's company, and that their yearly poker game was a silent promise of convergence. That the shitty driving lessons weren’t so she could drive away from him someday, that chalkboard lessons were so he wouldn’t scoff when she said he was smart with her whole chest. That the yearly diner dates were just that, just dates. Not something flippant, not something as unkind as the upkeep of an image. That he opened doors for her for a reason and tucked her below his chin because he cared enough to. That he reached across tables, palms up, because he never feared her hesitation.

Something unwritten between them she believed, everything shared in everything but words and letters. She was a calculating woman throughout her years and didn’t know how to trace the beginning of the feelings she had amassed all the way to the end of it. She didn’t know how to explain that her heart clenched when he leaned over the seat to buckle her in or explain how her hands shake when he reaches for the chalk from her now in the middle of a lesson. It was inconsequential, improbable, and entirely unexplainable to well… explain the sum of him to her. It felt little in comparison to his constant devotion.

The two front pots begin to boil over, she lifts her head, turning off burners and carrying a stem to a pot in both hands. Taking the stairs two at a time again, uncaring about the burning water running down her arms in her haste to make it back to him.

He’s still the same shade, but he lifts his head to look at her when she enters now. His smile less doppy, more genuine. His hair beginning to dry along his head, no ice to be found in its dark strands. He’s still leaning heavily along the back of the tub, not yet able to hold himself up. Color coming back to his cheeks, to his face. She kneels beside the tub, the floor wet as it seeps in through her pants. She pours in one pot at a time, swiping the water around to acclimate it to the bathwater. His hands move unconsciously, grabbing a strand of her hair to fold behind her ear. To be able to look at her more clearly through the fog of hot water.

She begins to pour the next pot into the tub, but he tugs her forward, folds her body against the rim of the tub. Something in her makes her stand, lifting her feet into the tub. The way he looks at her, so disorientated and shivering still. It moves her forward, has her crawling into the tub completely clothed just to lay her cheek against his chest. To make sure it continues to rise under her. Like when she sleeps, and he lulls her back to sleep by simply being there. She wants that, for him to lull her racing heart now. Make her forget about his disappearing visage and still water. He does that, hums like he always does, folding her head under his scruffy chin. Comforting her despite his weakened figure. Hoping she wouldn’t notice how cold he still was against her.

Something unwritten she believed, something she had never had to say out loud because she had never felt this weird depth before. But he was slipping from her grasp now, heavy against the rim of the tub. And so very quiet it made her sick, made her heart chase up her throat. Made her anxious beyond words, because the thing she meant to say to him would stay unwritten. If he was gone she’d only voice such fantasies in her dreams. The dreams she had of him as hers, those other realities her mind conjured where he wore a golden band and called her his. Where she was his.

“You're mine.” Her voice was unwavering, something unwritten between the syllables of her words. It blooms and bursts from her throat, a growth that had sprouted long ago, stumbles out of her mouth searching for light. Still folded under his chin, along his chest. Her shirt wet from the water, bunched up along her waist where he had put his hands.

He gets that look in his eyes despite her intensity, a joke on the tip of his tongue. Something to soothe her racing heart, to stamp down the distant look in her eyes. How she had looked in the car scared him, the rush of her chest but the focus of her eyes. Like they had been driving in the dark, through a neverending tunnel. But she chases it away before he can open his mouth, her hand meeting and cupping his scruffy jaw, pulling back from her comfort to look at him. Turning his eyes to her intense ones, ones that held something unspoken.

“No.” A shake to her voice, eyes blurry. “You’re mine.”

He nods, his voice stuck in his throat. Running his hands up her back, his warmer hands.

“Y-you aren’t allowed to leave me like that, Stanley. You can’t l-leave me all alone like that.” Flashes of a towering beast are nothing compared to turning over her shoulder. Of searching the horizonline. Like she does for Stanford, eyes drifting to tree lines. She wouldn’t, couldn’t compartmentalize doing such a thing for Stanley. She’d take back hesitancies and reach across tables palm up if it meant he wouldn’t leave her again.

“I promise, angel.” He takes her again, tucking her back to his chest. Her racing heart fluttered against his warming chest. “I won’t leave.”

Her hand fall into that crook in his chest, the other clutching along his back, trying to bring him closer, trying to make the space between them disappear. She sniffling, from the cold and stress, against his chest and he doesn’t think twice about his words. Thinking of reaching for her, of meeting her across bridges and tables and in tunnels to meet her open palms, her warm hands. Unfurling her from his chest to lean down and place his lips near her ear, something unspoken between syllables.

“You’re mine, too.”

His lips traveling to her cheek, hovering against the flush skin before tracing her warmth. Kissing the apple of her cheek as she leans into the front of him. His lips warm against her cheek, like she had dreamed of. He had never been this close in the waking world, something she craved more with each passing day. She never pulled away, sniffling as he brings her forward again. No hesitation to be found in the nod of her head along his scruff, a nudge, and nestle of agreement. Something unspoken, unwritten.

She forgot about the pots and burners.

#gravity falls #gravity falls fanfiction #gravity falls imagine #grunkle stan #stanley pines #stan pines #stanley pines x reader #stan pines x reader

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tacobacoyeet · 4 months ago

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Hello! Can I request a harry potter x slytherin reader story where they are in fifth year and the reader has the biggest crush on harry but he likes cho, but one day the reader didn't want to go to any of the D.A meetings anymore because seeing cho and harry broke her heart. But time has passed and Umbringe finds out about the club and like we see it in the movie she makes them writes stuff with that horrible quill and even though the reader didn't go to the meetings anymore she finds herself doing those detention and after one of them harry takes her to the Gryffondor common room and try to heal her hand but she decide to go because having all those contact with him makes her just fall more in love and she doesn't want to because she knows that he likes cho and not her. But after that whole valentines thing (idk if you have read the books) cho and harry do not talk anymore and some weeks after he starts to realise that he actually do not like cho but the reader so he goes talk to her (maybe in the astronomy tower) and tell her about his feelings and they kiss!!

(also like they are best friends and harry is very worried that he did or say something wrong at first or because Ron said stuff like "those slytherin's are just stupid to love that umbringe" so he was probably thinking it was because of that that she don't talk to him any more)

not too late | harry potter x reader

a/n: i can never resist writing for harry. there's not enough love for him on this website.

warnings: harry james potter being just the best as always, a touch angsty, tooth-rottingly fluffy, NOT PROOFREAD!

fifth year at hogwarts had been a whirlwind of chaos, change, and confusion. for you, a slytherin caught in the crossfire of house rivalries and divided loyalties, it was even more complicated. but nothing—nothing—was more consuming than the way your heart clenched every time harry potter smiled.

you didn’t know when the feelings had started. maybe it was in third year when he had smiled at you after you had helped him find a misplaced defense against the dark arts book. or perhaps it was when you partnered together during a potions class last year, and his determination to brew a perfect draught of peace had lit a spark of admiration in your chest.

but this year, that admiration had bloomed into a painful, unreciprocated crush. every glance at him made your stomach flip, and every moment spent together in the d.a. meetings made your heart ache. especially now that cho chang was in the picture.

watching harry laugh with cho, the way he looked at her as if she hung the stars, was unbearable. it felt like a knife twisting deeper each time you saw them together. so one day, you made a decision: you wouldn’t go to the d.a. meetings anymore. you told yourself it was to protect yourself from umbridge’s wrath if the group got caught. but deep down, you knew the real reason.

weeks passed, and you buried yourself in your studies. harry had asked about your absence at first, his emerald eyes filled with concern. “is everything okay? did something happen?” he’d asked after charms one day, his voice tinged with worry.

you had plastered on a smile and waved him off. “just busy with homework. you know how snape is.” he hadn’t pressed further, though you noticed the slight frown that tugged at his lips as you walked away.

but now, you were regretting your decision to distance yourself. despite avoiding the meetings, you weren’t spared from umbridge’s wrath. the moment she got wind of the d.a., she dragged every name associated with it into her office—including yours.

“you may not have attended every meeting,” she had said in her sickly sweet voice, “but you’re still guilty by association.”

that was how you found yourself seated in her dimly lit office, gripping a cursed quill as it carved i must not tell lies into the back of your hand. tears blurred your vision, but you refused to let them fall. you wouldn’t give her the satisfaction.

when the session was over, you stumbled out of the office, cradling your bleeding hand. harry was waiting for you outside, leaning against the wall with a stormy expression on his face.

“let me see,” he demanded, his voice tight with anger.

“i’m fine,” you lied, hiding your hand behind your back.

“no, you’re not.” his hand shot out, gently but firmly grabbing your wrist and pulling your hand into view. his face darkened as he took in the angry red cuts spelling out the words. without another word, he took your uninjured hand and started leading you toward gryffindor tower.

“harry, what are you doing?” you protested, though you didn’t pull away.

“i’m helping you,” he said simply, his tone brooking no argument.

in the gryffindor common room, he sat you down near the fire, fetched a first aid kit from his dorm, and knelt in front of you. his touch was gentle as he cleaned and bandaged your hand, his brows furrowed in concentration.

“you shouldn’t have been in there,” he muttered, more to himself than to you. “this is my fault. i should’ve stopped her before it got this bad.”

“don’t blame yourself,” you said softly, your heart aching at the guilt in his voice. “it’s not your fault.”

he looked up at you then, his green eyes filled with something unreadable. the closeness made your breath hitch. you wanted to reach out, to brush a lock of his hair away from his face, but you didn’t trust yourself. not when every moment with him made you fall even harder.

“i should go,” you said abruptly, standing up.

harry blinked, startled. “what? why?”

you forced a weak smile. “i just… need some air.”

before he could protest, you slipped out of the common room, your heart pounding in your chest.

weeks passed after that night. you avoided harry as much as you could, though it hurt to see the confusion and hurt on his face whenever you brushed him off. valentine’s day came and went, and you heard whispers of harry and cho’s disastrous date. you couldn’t bring yourself to ask him about it, though the rumors suggested they weren’t speaking anymore.

then one evening, as you stood alone in the astronomy tower, gazing out at the stars, you heard footsteps behind you.

“i thought i’d find you here,” harry’s voice said softly.

you turned to see him standing in the doorway, his hands shoved into his pockets. his expression was uncertain, almost nervous.

“harry—” you began, but he cut you off.

“why have you been avoiding me?” he asked, stepping closer. “did i do something wrong? if it’s about the d.a. or ron—he didn’t mean what he said about slytherins—”

“it’s not that,” you interrupted, your voice barely above a whisper.

“then what is it?” his voice cracked slightly, and the vulnerability in it broke your resolve.

tears pricked at your eyes as you turned away. “because it hurts, harry,” you admitted. “being around you hurts. you like cho, and every time i see you with her, it’s like a reminder that i’ll never—”

“stop,” he said, his voice firm but gentle.

you felt him step closer until he was right behind you. slowly, you turned to face him, and the look in his eyes stole your breath.

“i thought i liked cho,” he said, his voice low, “but i was wrong. it’s you. it’s always been you.”

your heart stopped. “what?”

“i didn’t realize it at first,” he admitted, a faint blush coloring his cheeks. “but these past few weeks, when you weren’t there… i missed you. i wanted to see you, talk to you, make you laugh. i couldn’t stop thinking about you.”

his words left you speechless, your mind racing. before you could respond, he reached out, his fingers brushing your cheek.

“is it too late?” he asked quietly.

instead of answering, you closed the distance between you, pressing your lips to his. the kiss was soft and hesitant at first, but it quickly deepened as you poured all your bottled-up emotions into it.

when you finally pulled away, harry rested his forehead against yours, a small, breathless smile on his lips.

“it’s not too late,” you whispered.

for the first time in what felt like forever, your heart felt whole again.

#a writes #harry potter #hogwarts #harry potter imagine #harry potter x reader #harry potter fluff #harry potter angst #harry james potter #harry james potter fluff #harry james potter x reader #harry james potter angst #cho chang

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slafastri28 · 4 months ago

Text

The Favorite Child - OP81

Summary: The first year of reader and Oscar's relationship, families give the other special treatment when they are around!

Word Count: 3.9k

Warnings: Idk nothing really

Note: Is this loosely based on my life, maybe... yes it is... ENJOY!!

Winter 2023/24

“Mom, Dad, I have someone I want you to meet,” those words were so nerve-racking to you. They knew who Oscar was, you met him during your internship and had become best friends, but things escalated quickly after your boyfriend mistreated you, not trusting you in your work environment as you were surrounded by men your age. You tried to introduce him over the phone to the people you would be spending the most time with, but he refused. Long distance was clearly not meant for the two of you as it resulted in constant fighting and a lack of trust. You two broke up during your Thanksgiving break and you immediately called Oscar. He comforted you, but little did you know he was waiting for you, since the early moments of you two spending time with you he fell hard for you. Now here you were bringing him home from the airport to stay with you for a week before you both left to work again. He naturally walked in through your front door behind you, your parents both smiling.

“You must be the famous Oscar we hear so much about,” your Mom smiled greeting him with a hug, causing your cheeks to flush feeling embarrassed.

“Mr. Piastri,” your Dad greeted him with a handshake, a friendly welcoming one, not very protective over his daughter. The four of you sat down for dinner as your parents began asking about Oscar’s life which was a lot different from yours. It was full of adventures in different cities, countries, and continents, where your last vacation was when you were seventeen.

“It really is beautiful, once you start putting your shoes up high,” he laughed. He looked so in place at the table across from you talking to your parents. Something in your stomach told you this would be a recurring event. Dinner ended and you showed him where he would be staying for the next week before the two of you traveled to your new shared apartment to start your job. It seemed natural for you to live together, two separate bedrooms which you would both keep clean and orderly, you had similar lifestyles, similar habits, similar everything and you wouldn’t mind living with your best friend. He made himself comfortable in your older brother’s former room, he moved out a long time ago and now it was vacant, and was conveniently right next to yours if he needed anything. The week went on and you showed him all around your hometown, your favorite places to eat, the park where you would play in the snow with your friends, your school, all core parts of who you were. You went shopping gathering last-minute essentials before leaving, it started to feel surreal. You knew deep down you had feelings for Oscar but seeing him in your hometown fitting in perfectly made them even stronger. It was the second to last night you would be staying with your parents. It was late, the two of you were alone in your living room watching a movie when you suddenly felt his head on your shoulder. You couldn’t hide a smile but didn’t say anything you didn’t know what to do. The TV was apparently too loud and startled your Mom out of sleep, because in a few seconds, she was at the top of the stairs asking you to lower it, scaring both you and Oscar out of the position you were in. Once she left his head went immediately back to your shoulder, and you rested your head on top of his. These were normal instances throughout the week, as you would be walking his hand would occasionally brush up against yours, he would look at you longer than he needed to, and he was so attentive in everything you spoke about your town.

“Y/N,” he said softly, you picked your head up as he did the same to look at you.

“Yes, Oscar?”

“What are we?” That question, that wonderful, stressful question that put the ball in your court, you tried to come up with a response that you hoped wouldn’t scare him off.

“What do you want to be?” You asked, feeling a huge weight lift off your shoulders.

“I- I don’t know,” he replied, your faces moving closer to each other. Your heart was practically beating out of your chest.

“I hope this isn’t too straightforward,” you said before placing a kiss on his lips. When you broke apart he had a big smile on his face.

“I want to be with you Y/N, your boyfriend,” he smiled, kissing you once more.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting to do that,” you sighed with a grin. As your movie came to a close the two of you went upstairs hand in hand before parting to go to your separate rooms.

You woke up the next morning trying to be as discrete as possible with Oscar around your parents, you two would sit under a blanket and hold hands underneath, or when your parents weren’t looking he would rest his hand on your lower back, it was one more day you figured it would be easy, nope. Your parents quickly caught on, it was a moment when you were alone with your Mom that it got loose.

“You know I know about you and Oscar,” SHE WHAT?!

“What? How”

“The way he looked at you it was obvious. Relax, your father and I like him very much, I just want to make sure you’re okay it’s barely been a month since…” her voice trailed off.

“I’m fine Mom, I was done with him in October, but I didn’t want to be a jerk and do it over the phone especially while the guys were with me, they all knew, and all encouraged it but I couldn’t do it over the phone,” you explained.

“So you’re okay,” you nodded. The two of you left the next morning driving the hour to your new apartment. You two began unpacking the boxes that were waiting for you, you caught him looking at you as a distraction.

“So my parents know,” you blurted out.

“Uh-huh, and I thought we were going to wait a little to tell them as per your request,” he said with a hand on his hip.

“My mom figured it out, you made it REALLY obvious,” you teased.

“I can’t help looking at you, you’re finally mine let me enjoy it,” he said before pecking you on the cheek. You two continued unpacking, building furniture that was delivered, and making your apartment feel like home.

The winter season ended and you would be going into the 2024 Formula 1 season as Oscar’s girlfriend.

Spring 2024

You took supporting Oscar very seriously. In the time you had while he had winter testing, you purchased any merchandise you could find with his name on it, and things you thought were cute that matched the Mclaren colors. Although you couldn’t travel with him to every race due to your job, you still went to as many as you could sporting his last name. He was always happy to see you after no matter what the outcome was. When you were there he would rush over to you, when you weren’t he would call you from his driver’s room immediately after. It was when you leaked to him your parents would be coming to a race he got an idea. You two were lying in your shared room, leaving the other bedroom to quickly become an office/guest room thinking out loud.

“You said your parents don’t travel much,” he said.

“Well, no one we know travels as much as you, but no not really, why?” you asked.

“I feel like I should get them something, I don’t know, I travel so often, I feel like it would be nice, and you know make them like me more,” he smiled.

“Please, every time we go to their house Mom acts so much different, Dad texted the one time asking if you were coming for dinner because he smelled ‘the good food’, you're their favorite child,” you laughed.

“No she doesn’t,” he knew secretly it was true.

“Denial is not something I would pin on you but here you are,” you teased.

“Well maybe I’m the favorite child because I start bringing back souvenirs,” he said with confidence.

“Mhm okay,” you rolled your eyes playfully, “so what are you going to get them?”

“Your Mom loves tea, right? And your Dad coffee?” You nodded, see he knew these things after not even six months of dating.

“So I’ll bring back mugs or coasters,” he said, “something useful so they will think of me every time they use it,” he said proudly.

“Favorite child,” you teased again. He shrugged and kept brainstorming.

“So they are coming to Monaco this weekend, but after that, I’ll be in Canada, perfect, a Canada mug,” he smiled.

“Maybe some maple syrup,” you giggled.

“See you’re in on it, you think they will like it,” he grinned.

“They will love anything coming from you, believe me,” you kissed his cheek, “Good night idea man,” you said rolling to your side and drifting to sleep with a smile.

The weekend approached, and you met your parents for dinner the night before the race, you were surprised by Oscar meeting you there too, he made no clarification he would be there. He was holding a small bag.

“There’s our boy,” your Dad said patting him on the back as he came and sat next to you.

“Hi Darling,” he kissed your cheek, “hope I’m not encroaching on your family time, I knew you would be here, and I can only be alone for so long the night before,” he smiled.

“Oh please, you could never intrude,” your Mom laughed.

“Favorite child,” you whispered in his ear, it became a running joke every time you saw your parents, your Dad was in on it too.

“Y/N don’t whisper it’s rude,” Your mom looked at you sternly, and your Dad winked.

“What’s in your bag Osc,” you said changing the topic.

“Something for you two actually,” he said gesturing at your parents, reaching and placing the bag in front of them.

“What a nice mug,” your Dad said pulling it out of the bag, it was a Formula One-themed mug with the word Monaco across the top, it had different cars, a map of the track, helmets, and the flag of course. You sat there stunned, thinking this wasn’t starting until next week, but Oscar had mischief.

Your parents continued to thank and praise him for the mug as the weekend continued, and each week that followed with a different mug being sent to your parent's house or hand delivered they became more and more loving towards him as if they weren’t already. Your parents became Oscar’s second parents, they loved having him around. You were invited to stay with them the summer break but declined, you two had your own vacation in mind, where you were sure Oscar would bring a mug back from there.

Summer Break 2024

Here it was, the moment you would meet Oscar’s family. You two were in the middle of the flight and woke up out of your sound sleep with the fear of meeting his family. That and you always got flight-sick. You rushed to the airplane bathroom, completely disregarding the empty seat next to you. There meeting you in the isle was Oscar,

“Aww again,” he sighed knowing where you were going.

“It will pass, we are almost there anyway,” you sighed trudging to the bathroom. Moments later you were back in your seat, you could see the sun rising out of the window, he took your hand rubbing his thumb gently across the top.

“You have no reason to be nervous,” he smiled knowing that was also making you sick. Your flight continued into an eventual bumpy landing sending your stomach into orbit. Oscar rested his hand over it as its shield, he knew where you would be going in the airport first. You went to the bathroom and after you finished your boyfriend was no longer standing alone. You recognized the figures, quickly rushing your hands into your pockets waiting for them to notice. Oscar’s eyes moved from his youngest sister’s to yours. You made your way over comfortably, but could still feel your heart pounding in your chest.

“Everyone,” he announced, “this is Y/N L/N, my best friend, and beautiful girlfriend. " He smiled, resting his hand on your back, urging you to come closer. You hid your nervousness with a smile,

“It’s so nice to meet all of you finally, he’s told me so much,” you could feel the heat of your face flushing away. His mom was first to greet you pulling you into a hug,

“Are you kidding, we’ve heard so much about you,” she laughed. His sisters all greeted you next, looking forward to having a new girl in the house for a couple of weeks, finally, you reached his Dad,

“He looks good, he hasn’t given you any trouble has he,” he smiled.

“No sir,” you laughed, feeling the tension and nerves ease away. The day began with lunch right after the airport pickup, although you could barely get a bite to stay down.

“Darling where are they,” he said gesturing for you to hand him your bag. His whole family felt horrible. You weren’t feeling well, and they were ready to accommodate plans to suit your needs. The day continued and everyone was catering to your every need, crackers you had it, ginger ale right along with you.

“You don’t have to-” you were cut off.

“We insist,” his mother said rubbing your shoulder as you made your way into their house. Oscar was getting you unpacked when he found the small bottle of heaven, it always saved you from motion sickness and jet lag when traveling, you must have put it in your suitcase by mistake. There you lay on his bed, looking around at his childhood bedroom, as he did the same when he first arrived at your house. You noticed all the little details, pictures of him growing up, little trophies he had from karting, all the important moments of little Oscar’s life. He joined you handing you the bottle. You took the tablets and rested your head in his lap already feeling a lot better.

“See, no worries, they love you, favorite child,” he laughed.

“No no you cannot call me that, we haven’t even been here a day,” you shot at him.

“My mom would tell me to suck it up, and they certainly wouldn’t make me a special meal like they are for you,” he crossed his arms, “so yes I can, I already know.”

“Maybe if I wasn’t sick-”

“Please they love you, and as they get to know you better they will love you even more,” he smiled.

“So, you told them about me,” you said sitting up and adjusting to look clearly at him.

“Y/N, my sisters wanted to know every single detail, well everyone in the family always needs to know every single detail,” he groaned.

“And?”

“And the questions would never end, you just wait for dinner tonight, they are going to tell you everything they know about you and more,” you laughed, but he seemed so serious. Dinner approached and he was right, you had a lot to talk about, it was the opposite of your house, where everything was always Oscar, tonight everything was you.

“So Y/N, Oscar tells us you studied business,” his father began. The next thing you knew many many details of your life had been shared with his family, your hobbies, your interests, …your intentions, a lot of information. You two went to bed early that night feeling tired from the flight, you lay silent in the dark of his room, the only light of the little plug-in near his door. You were both awake staring at the ceiling.

“I’m sorry, were they too much,” he said turning to face you.

“You met my parents, nothing is too much,” you grinned.

“So they didn’t scare you off,”

“Of course not,” you placed a kiss on his lips.

“I love you,” he sighed before pressing his lips to yours once more. You two slept peacefully awaiting the weeks ahead of you.

The trip consisted of Oscar taking you to all his favorite and important places in his life. You two were so in sync, you listened to all his facts and as you experienced all these places he took pictures with you at each one, wanting to remember forever. You two had been stopped in a few places by fans and he was so good about it. You even had some recognition as you were now dating a famous racing driver and were plastered on social media more than you knew. Girls would come up to the two of you squealing with delight asking you personal yet intrusive questions about dating Oscar, he could see your discomfort and would act in ways that would make them even more crazy. He would stare at you lovingly, he would wrap his arms around your waist or over your shoulders, would press little kisses to your cheeks giving you compliments.

“She truly is the best,” he said during one of your fan interactions “I wouldn’t ask for anyone else,” your heart melted. You fell deeper and deeper in love with him this trip, seeing him in his home, now you know how he felt seeing you in your hometown and why he was so infatuated with you.

As your trip came to a close you didn’t want to leave, it was so amazing. His family became your second family, his home was your home, and you were invited to stay with them at the Australian Grand Prix next year, it was wonderful. You said your goodbyes at the airport before boarding the plane. As you were waiting for take-off, he looked at you smugly, as you had a mixture of joy and sadness on your face.

“Believe me now favorite child?” he teased.

“I think your sisters wished it was me instead of you, I would have killed to play dress up with them when you were all young, you look great in pink by the way,” you laughed, you would miss his family.

“Okay, it’s only natural for little girls to dress up their older brother, you can’t tell me you didn’t do the same,”

“I tried, but he’s five years older, he was a teenager when I was at the dress-up age, however in high school he did let me put a pink strip in his and his best friend's hair, so I call that a win,” you smiled talking about your brother. You two grew distant once he moved away, you missed that bond you had when you were little, now he acted as your third parent, you couldn’t talk to him without constant disapproval. You were lost in your thoughts when the plane taking off interrupted them.

Fall 2024

The season carried on, you found yourself longing for Oscar those weekends he was away, and you began to go crazy. Your parents constantly wanted you to visit, or come and surprise you at your apartments on weekends. You knew they meant well but it was starting to become too much. It was different when Oscar wasn’t there, they felt that they could finally give you their real opinions on your lifestyle, and make things the way they wanted in your life. You found yourself crying most nights when he was gone after long days with your parents as sometimes they would make you question your relationship.

“Does Oscar love you for being like this?” Your mom said to you one weekend, you kicked both your parents out that day and didn’t even bother calling Oscar you were in such a fit of anger and sadness that you were thinking of all the ways you wanted to change yourself in that very moment. Times like this continued and you felt the courage to tell these things to Oscar once again. At first, he didn’t believe you but the more time he spent with them he began to see it. He was always reassuring, but you began to overthink feeling so bad that every weekend he was gone you were upset when he was out scoring points and having a great time.

“Y/N, come with me this weekend,” he finally said one night. That sounded like the best idea to you ever, and work was becoming more of a hybrid position than on-site, it seemed perfect.

“I would love that,” you sighed.

“I know there’s only a few races left, but please come with me, I would love to have you there and give you a break from all this stress,” he pressed a kiss to the top of your head.

“You have a deal,” you smiled.

“So you’re going to tell them right now, you can’t do anything for the next month,” he pointed a stern finger at you. You picked up your phone sending a message to both of them, they seemed fine in their responses but still in those weeks you were traveling they found ways to pick at your travel plans based on your media posts, commenting on what you chose to wear, the meals you two were eating, the late hours you were up, they saw your life start to merge with Oscar’s life, and were concerned.

Winter 2024-25

You two were spending a week with your parents for the holiday, and eventually, you couldn’t take it anymore and exploded. You scolded your parents in front of Oscar, your boyfriend of almost a year, you thought he would leave you then and there as he had never seen you this upset but he stood in support of you.

“I’m proud of you, you are an adult and they need to see that, I know you don’t think they will change, but they are your parents they mean well, but when you are with me you do not need to doubt yourself at all, I love you for being yourself,” he said as you two sat on the floor in your room. You felt the tears welling up in your eyes once more. You cried all the pain you had been realizing that was influencing your whole life flowed out. He held you to his chest and continued explaining all the thoughts you didn’t realize were influenced by your parents, you felt free.

“This new year I will help you with all those things darling, I promise you, I am not going anywhere,” he pressed a soft kiss to your lips.

“I love you Oscar Piastri, thank you for making me, me again,” you kissed him once more.

“I love you Y/N L/N, no matter what.”

#f1 #formula 1 #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #oscar piastri #oscarpiastri x reader #mclaren #op81 #op81 imagine #op81 x reader #op81 fic #mclaren formula 1

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