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lee-laurent · 27 days ago

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Just Friendly Things -- Quinn Hughes

Summary: Quinn brings his "friend" Hayden to meet the guys, only issue... they all wanna get on his nerves by flirting with her

content: arguing, teasing, flirting, some posssibly sexist jokes, suggestive jokes, making out, implied smut but no explicit smut

wc: 6.6k

notes: this took way longer than i expected because i hated the first few versions of hayden that i wrote. hope you guys enjoy! and pls pls let me know which fic from my most recent list you wanna see next!!!

Quinn had been convinced he had a type, until he met Hayden. The moment he laid eyes on the freckle-covered brunette behind the bar, all his ideas of the perfect woman went out the window.

He hadn't planned on approaching her that night--he rarely did that sort of thing--but something about her made it impossible to stay in his seat. Maybe it was the way her eyes sparkled as she teased the patrons, or the quick, confident way she moved, shaking cocktails and sliding beers across the counter without missing a beat. Or maybe it was her laugh, low and raspy, floating above the noise of the crowd and hitting him like a bucket of cold water.

When he reached the bar, he still hadn't figured out what to say. But she noticed him right away, tipping her head at him with an arched brow. "You gonna order something, or just stand there looking pretty?" she asked, smirking.

It had taken Quinn half a second too long to respond, his brain short-circuiting at the sound of her voice. Her smirk only deepened as she watched him scramble for words.

"Uh, yeah--just a beer. Whatever's on tap," he finally managed, shoving a hand through his hair.

"Sure thing, champ." She poured the drink in one smooth motion and set it in front of him, wiping her hands on a bar towel. "That'll be six bucks."

Quinn handed her a twenty. "Keep the change."

Her green eyes flicked up to meet his. "Big spender, huh?"

He shrugged, suddenly unsure of himself. "Just figured you deserve it. You're working hard."

That made her pause. The teasing look on her face softened for a split second, and she gave him a small smile before moving on to the next customer.

That had been six months ago. Now, Quinn had her memorized in ways he wasn't sure were healthy. He knew how her lips curved when she smiled, the exact spot on her shoulder that made her shiver when she kissed it, and the way her voice sounded when she moaned his name in the dark.

Not that they were anything serious--she'd made that clear from the start. "I'm not looking for a boyfriend, Hughes," she'd said one night, perched on the edge of his bed, wearing nothing but one of his hoodies. Her legs had been tucked under her, and her fingers toyed absently with the hem of the sweathshirt. "I don't have time for that right now. Gotta focus on work and school, and I don't need a distraction."

"Fair enough," he'd replied, leaning back against the headboard and trying to sound nonchalant, like her answer didn't sting just a little.

It wasn't like he could blame her. She worked crazy hours at the bar, saving every spare dollar for tuition. And yet, every few nights, she still found her way into his bed--or his car, or his couch--looking at him with those green eyes and making it very clear she wanted him.

And that was the problem, really. He knew exactly what she wanted from him, but the feelings that had started creeping up on him were a hell of a lot messier.

Like now, as they drove through the winding roads to the lake house. Hayden was sitting in the passenger seat, scrolling through her phone, completely oblivious to the way he kept sneaking glances at her. She'd insisted she could come as a friend--"We're just hanging out, right? Your brothers don't need to know anything."

Quinn had agreed, mostly because he didn't want to push his luck. But the idea of her spending an entire weekend around his brothers and friends--Jack, Luke, Cole, and Trevor--while pretending they didn't have history? He wasn't sure how he was supposed to keep it together.

Especially not when she looked like that.

Quinn tightened his grip on the steering wheel, forcing himself to look at the road instad of Hayden. She was lounging in the passenger seat like she owned the place, legs pulled up and bare feet resting on the dash--something that normally annoyed him, but didn't when it was her. Her hair was twisted up on top of her head with a claw-clip, dark sunglasses perched on her nose, and her shorts were so short they were more like denim underwear. And worse, she didn't seem to have a single clue what she was doing to him.

"Any bets on how long before Trevor starts acting like an idiot?" she asked, not looking up from her phone.

Quinn exhaled, shaking his head. "Two minutes after we pull in."

Hayden snorted. "I'm giving him 30 seconds. Kid doesn't have an off switch."

"Don't let him get to you," Quinn warned, though his jaw clenched at the thought. He already knew how this was going to go: Trevor was going to flirt, Jack and Luke were going to egg him on, and Cole was going to sit back and stir the pot like the chaos-loving menace he was. The last thing Quinn needed was his brothers and friends turning this weekend into some weird interrogation.

She finally looked at him, dropping her phone onto her lap. "Relax, Hughesy. I can handle myself."

That was the problem. He knew she could handle herself. Hayden could flirt and toss back jabs like it was nobody's business. She was cool under pressure, quick with comebacks, and completely unfazed by guys like his friends. If anything, they were going to love her. Which was great--except it also meant they were going to keep pushing, keep prodding, and Quinn was going to have to sit there and pretend it didn't bother him.

He wasn't entirely sure he could pull that off.

The house was already crazy when they arrived. Quinn barely had time to turn off the engine before the front door flew open, and Jack and Trevor came sprinting out like a couple of dogs that'd been cooped up too long.

"Quinny!" Jack hollered, dragging out the name like he was twelve. His eyes darted to Hayden before a shit-eating grin stretched across his face. "And you brought a friend!"

"Careful, Jack, you're drooling," Hayden teased, sliding out of the car like she hadn't just turned Quinn's brain to mush.

Trevor skidded to a stop next to Jack, pushing his sunglasses up onto his head as he gave Hayden an exaggerated once-over. "Who's this?" he asked, like Quinn wasn't standing right there.

"Hayden," she said, unfazed. "You must be Trevor."

His grin widened. "Guilty. Did Quinn tell you that I'm his favourite?"

Quinn groaned, dragging their bags out of the trunk. "Literally no one has ever said that ever."

Trevor ignored him, zeroing in on Hayden. "So, you a hockey fan? Or did Quinny trick you into coming up here?"

Hayden shot Quinn a quick, amused look over her shoulder before turning back to the blond. "No tricks. I just like the lake."

"I'm gonna like you."

"Trevor," Quinn said sharply, but it was too late. Hayden was already laughing, and Trevor looked delighted, like he'd just discovered a new game.

This was going to be a long weekend.

The kitchen was already loud by the time Quinn woke up the next morning. Jack was rummaging through the fridge, muttering complaints about the lack of skim milk, while Luke stood at the stove making ovens. Trevor was leaning against the counter, already drinking despite the early hour.

Then there was Hayden, perched on a stool like she'd been part of the group for years. She was wearing a tank top and athletic shorts, her legs crossed as she sipped a mug of coffee one of the guys had made for her. She looked completely at ease, laughing softly at something Trevor had just said.

"Morning, sunshine," Jack called out when he spotted Quinn. "You sleep okay on the couch?"

Trevor smirked. "Guess you're more of a gentleman than I thought, letting Hayden have the bed."

Quinn ignored him, heading straight for the coffee pot. "Someone had to make sure you idiots didn't scare her off already."

"We're harmless," Jack said, grabbing a yogurt and joining Hayden at the counter. "Right, Hayden?"

"Sure," she smiled. "Totally harmless."

Trevor licked his lips, setting down his beer. "So, Hayden, what's your deal? You work at a bar, right? Bet you've got some wild stories."

"Plenty," she said easily. "But I'm guessing you don't wanna hear about drunk bachleorette parties or old guys claiming they already tipped me when it's the first time I've ever seen them."

"Come on," Trevor said, flashing her his most charming grin. "What about the weirdest pickup line you've ever gotten?"

"I don't know... probably the guy who told me I had eyes like a mermaid and asked if I wanted to 'swim into his arms.'"

Jack snorted. "That's terrible."

"Right?" Hayden laughed again. "I told him I'd rather drown."

Trevor laughed so hard he nearly spilled his beer. "Okay, that's solid. But what about the best pickup line? You've gotta have one."

Quinn, pouring his coffee, clenched his jaw. He knew where this was going.

Hayden glanced at him briefly. "I don't really go for pickup lines," she shrugged. "If a guy's confident, he doesn't need one."

"Oh, I'm confident," Trevor leaned a little closer.

Hayden smirked. "Good for you, bud."

Quinn's knuckles tightened around his mug as he turned and leaned against the counter. "Shouldn't you save some of that energy for the lake, Trev? Or is embarrassing yourself in the water not enough anymore?"

Trevor shot him a look, but Hayden only smiled, her green eyes sparkling with amusement. "Careful, Hughesy," she said lightly. "You're starting to sound jealous."

Quinn froze, scrambling for a response. "I'm not--"

"She's got a point," Jack interrupted. "You're lookin' a little tense there, Quinny."

"I'm fine!"

Hayden raised her coffee mug to hide her smile, but the damage was already done.

Quinn's nerves were frayed by the end of breakfast. Hayden had slipped easily into the background, chatting with Luke about something or other, but Trevor and Jack were relentless in their interrogation.

"Hayden, what kind of guys do you usually go for?" Trevor asked carefully as they started clearing the plates.

Quinn stiffened, glancing at Hayden out of the corner of his eye. She didnt' miss a beat.

"Hmm. I guess I like guys who can make me laugh."

"That's me!" Trevor said excitedly.

"Right," she said, deadpan. "But I also like guys who know when to quit."

Jack laughed, clapping Trevor on the back. "Ouch! Guess you're out of luck, bud!"

Quinn didn't bother to hide his smirk, but his amusement didn't last long. Trevor wasn't giving up, and Hayden seemed determined to keep sparring with him.

The group wasted no time in dragging all their gear down to the water. Paddleboards, kayaks, and inner tubes littered the dock, and Jack was already trying to wrestle Luke into the water just for the sake of it.

Quinn had just finished setting up a folding chair near the edg of the dock when he caught sight of Hayden emerging from the house.

His brain short-circuited.

She was wearing a simple blue bikini, nothing overly flashy, but it might as well have been haute couture for the way it made his chest tighten. Her hair was loose now, claw clip abandoned, and her sungless perched on her pale nose as she carried a towel in one hand and a bottle of water in the other.

She walked like she owned the place, completely oblivious to how every head on the dock turned her way.

"Jesus, Quinn," Jack grinned. "Where'd you find her?"

Quinn scowled. "Shut up, Jack."

"Hey, Hayden!" Trevor called, waving her over like they were old friends. "You ever paddleboard before?"

Hayden stopped at the edge of the dock, plating her hands on her hips. "Once or twice. Why?"

Trevor pulled a board toward himself. "Because you're about to get a free lesson from the best."

"You mean Luke?" she quipped, smirking proudly.

Trevor clutched his chest like she'd stabbed him. "That hurts. I'm actually really fucking great at this!"

"Uh-huh." Hayden tossed her towel onto a chair, kicking off her sandals. "Fine. Show me what you've got."

Quinn groaned internally as Trevor guided her toward the paddleboard. He tried to focus on adjusting one of the chairs, but his eyes kept returning to Hayden as Trevor "helped" her climb onto the board.

"Keep your knees bent," Trevor said, standing waist-deep in the water beside her. "It's all about balance."

"Got it," Hayden said, adjusting her stance.

"You're a natural," he grinned up at her. Then, with an exaggerated wave of his arm, he tipped her board slightly to the side, sending her wobbling.

Quinn tensed instinctively, stepping toward the edge of the dock, but Hayden quickly recovered, giving Trevor a look that could melt steel.

"Do that again, and you're swimming home with this thing shoved up your ass," she said flatly.

Luke burst out laughing from where he was lounging on an inner tube. "She's not wrong, Trev. You're annoying as fuck."

Trevor ignored him, hopping onto his own paddleboard. "Alright, then. Let's race."

"You're on," Hayden paddled toward the deeper water with ease.

Quinn really wanted to stay out of it, but watching Trevor and Hayden laughing and splashing each other in the middle of the lake was slowly driving him insane. He stood at the edge of the dock, hands on hips like a dad, until Jack strolled over and gave him a knowing look.

"You good, man? You've been standing there glaring at Trevor for five minutes."

"I'm not glaring," Quinn said, moving to cross his arms.

"Sure," Jack said, dragging out the word. "Hey, maybe we should all take turns teaching Hayden how to paddleboard. I mean, I've got skills."

"Don't."

Jack raised his hands in surrender, laughing as he walked away.

Quinn moved from standing to sitting, his feet in the water, when Hayden paddled back toward him. Trevor had abandoned his board by this point, leaving her to float leisurely near the dock.

"Not bad, huh?" she said, smirking as she climbed off the board and into the shallow water.

"You handled yourself," Quinn said, shrugging like it didn't matter.

Hayden raised an eyebrow, stepping closer until she was standing waist-deep in the water in front of him. "You sure you're okay? You've been looking kind of... tense."

"I'm fine," he said, though his shoulders gave him away.

"Right." She reached past him to grab her towel, her arm brushing his in the process. The touch was brief, accidental, but it was enough to send a jolt through him.

"Hayden," Trevor called from the shore, "you wanna head out again? I think I can beat you this time."

Quinn didn't miss how Trevor's eyes flicked down to Hayden's legs as she pushed herself up on the dock, or the stupid grin on his face when she finally looked at him.

"Pass," she waved him off. "I've already proven I'm better than you."

Quinn couldn't help it; he smirked.

As Hayden sat down beside him to dry off, he caught her looking at him through the corner of her eye. "You're glaring again," she mumbled, covering it with a fake cough.

"I'm not."

"Sure..."

Quinn didn't say anything, looking back out over the water. Trying his hardest, and failing, to think of anythingbut how much longer this weekend was going to last.

Dinner was even more chaotic... if that was possible.

The dining table was a mix of empty beer bottles, half-eaten burgers, and bowls of chips scattered across every inch of available surface. Luke and Jack had teamed up on the grill, burning half the patties while Trevor heckled them from his seat. Cole had claimed his spot across from Hayden, watching things unfold with a look on his face that Quinn was starting to resent.

And of course, Hayden--perfectly unbothered--sat at Quinn's right, sipping a beer and laughing at the guys' stupid antics. Quinn tried not to notice how her shoulder brushed his every time she shifted in her seat.

"So, Hayden," Trevor said suddenly, wiping ketchup off his fingers, "we've all been wondering--what's your deal?"

"My deal?" she bit back a smile.

"You know," he leaned foward on his elbows. "What's a girl like you doing hanging out with a guy like Quinn?"

Quinn choked on a sip of water, sputtering into his napkin. "Jesus, Trevor."

"What?" he innocently flashed a grin. "I'm just saying. You're cool, Hayden. You've got, like, a vibe. Quinn's... well. Quinn."

Hayden turned to Quinn, tilting her head dramatically as if evaluating him. "You're right. I could probably do better."

The table erupted into laughter, Jack banging his fist against the table as Trevor fell back in his chair. Quinn groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose, though he couldn't stop the smile tugging at his lips.

"See?" Trevor said, pointing at Hayden like she'd just proven his point. "I like her. She's honest."

"Honest, huh?" Hayden smirked, lifting her beer to her lips. "Careful, Z. I don't think you can handle honest."

Trevor was undeterred. "Oh, I can handle honest. Hit me."

"Alright. Honestly? You talk a lot of shit for someone who fell off a paddleboard twice today."

"Hey! The second time didn't count!" Trevor argued, pointing a potato chip at her. "I was distracted."

"By what?"

"By you," he smirked, like he thought he was the smoothest guy ever.

Quinn's hand clenched under the table. He forced himself to take a sip of his drink, trying to mask his irritation.

"Well, don't let it happen again. I'd hate for you to embarrass yourself three times today," she giggled.

Luke snorted into his drink, while Cole howled from the other side of the table.

"I don't embarrass easily."

"Could've fooled me," Hayden said, giving Quinn's thigh a squeeze under the table.

"You're good at this," Jack laughed. "You should come to dinners more often."

"Don't encourage her," Quinn rolled his eyes.

"Oh, come on, Quinny," Jack nudged him with his elbow. "You're just mad she's better at coming up with comebacks than you are."

"Not mad."

"Uh-huh. I'll see it when I believe it, Quinnifer."

Once the plates were cleared and the guys had moved outside to do god-knows-what, Quinn hang back in the kitchen, rinsing dishes just to keep his hands busy. Hayden lingered, drying plates as they were handed to her.

"You sure you're okay, Q?"

"I'm fine," he said, though his jaw was still tight.

"You've been 'fine' all day," she teased. "You sure you don't want to try a different excuse?"

He sighed, setting down the plate he was holding. "They're onto us."

"So? Let them wonder. What's the worst that could happen?"

Quinn stared at her, incredulous. "Are you serious? We're not... dating. I... don't need them knowing about... us."

"You're worried because we're casual? Quinn, I'm sure they've all had flings before."

"But, you--"

"Hayden! Quit flirting with my brother and come play pong!" Jack called from the sliding door.

"Coming!" she pressed a quick kiss to Quinn's cheek before rounding the corner and disappearing out of his sight. Maybe Hayden was going to be the death of him and not this weekend.

The house was finally quiet.

Quinn lay on the couch, staring at the ceiling lit dimly from a lamp in the corner, the soft hum of fridge the only sound he could hear along with the occasional snore from upstairs (Trevor). His pillow was lumpy, the blanket was scratchy, and he'd long given up trying to get comfortable. He wasn't sure how long he'd been lying there, but it felt like hours.

Everyone had settled for the night, laughter and shouting just a ghost of the day now. Trevor had been the last holdout, talking loudly about his plans to crush everyone at volleyball the next day until Jack shoved him up the stairs to the guest room.

Quinn waited until he was sure--absolutely sure--the house was still. Then, as quiet as possible, he swung his legs off the couch, folding the blanket and tossing it over the armrest.

The door to his bedroom creaked slightly as he opened it, and he winced, glancing over his shoulder to make sure nobody had heard. The hallway remained silent, and he slipped inside, shutting the door softly behind him.

Hayden was lying on her side, her back to the door. She was scrolling through her phone, her hair splayed out across the pillow, one of his old t-shirts draped loosely over her frame.

"Took you long enough," she murmured, not bothering to turn around.

Quinn rolled his eyes, tugging his hoodie over his head and tossing it onto his desk chair. "I had to wait for them to fall asleep."

"They're not asleep," Hayden said, her voice low but teasing. "Trevor's probably lying awake right now, trying to figure out if you're sneaking up here or not."

Quinn froze, his hand on the edge of the bed. "He's not."

"Wanna bet?"

He sighed, pulling back the covers and sliding into bed beside her. "If he was, he'd already be at the door making some dumb comment."

"Fair point," she sighed, finally setting her phone on the nightstand and turning to face him. Her eyes gleamed faintly in the low light from the hallway. "Still, you're playing a dangerous game, Quinny."

Quinn propped himself up on one elbow, frowning at her. "I'm not the one who spent the entire day letting Trevor flirt with me."

She smirked. "What was I supposed to do? Tell him to stop? That'd make things way more suspicious."

"You didn't have to encourage him."

"I wasn't encouraging him," Hayden cocked an eyebrow. "I was shutting him down."

Quinn scoffed. "You call that shutting him down?"

"What would you call it?"

"Flirting," he muttered, unable to keep the bite out of his tone.

Her smirk only widened. "You sound jealous."

"I'm not--"

"Relax," her tone softened. "If I wanted Trevor, I'd be in his bed right now."

Quinn stared at her, unsure of how to respond. Her tone was casual, but held a quiet reassurance he hadn't been expecting.

"Besides," she added, shifting onto her back, "he's not my type."

"Yeah? What is your type?"

Hayden turned to look at him, biting her lip to hold back her smile. "You really wanna know?"

"Yeah," he said, his throat dry.

She didn't answer right away, letting the silence stretch between them. Then, finally, she reached out, her fingers brushing lightly against his arm. "Go to sleep, Huggy."

He exhaled a quiet laugh, lying back against the pillow. "Night, Hayden."

If I wanted Trevor, I'd be in his bed right now.

He wasn't sure if that made him feel better or worse... so much worse.

Jack and Trevor had dragged the volleyball net out from the shed, while Luke attempted to detangle it and Cole sat nearby offering unhelpful commentary.

"Hayden, you any good at volleyball?" Trevor asked, tossing the ball lazily in the air and catching it.

Hayden shrugged, standing at the edge of the makeshift court in one of Quinn's t-shirts knotted at her waist. "I can hold my own."

"Perfect! You're on my team then," he said, his grin widening.

Quinn grimaced, adjusting the net. "We didn't even pick teams yet."

"We don't have to," Trevor said, tossing the ball at Hayden, who caught it easily. "I already called dibs."

"Dibs don't count," Jack argued, stepping into the sand. "Besides, I don't trust you not to ruin every single serve she makes."

"Guys," Hayden interrupted. "We can rotate teams."

Jack and Trevor exchanged a look then both shrugged, apparently satisfied.

"Fine," Trevor smirked. "But don't be mad when we crush you."

"Out!" Luke yelled, pointing as the ball bounced into the sand.

Trevor threw his hands in the air. "That was not out!"

"Dude, it was so out," Jack said, shaking his head as he jogged to retrieve the ball.

Meanwhile, Hayden stood at the net, adjusting her ponytail and smiling. Quinn couldn't help but stare, admiring everything from the curve of her neck to how her shorts fit her thighs.

"Q, stop staring and serve the ball!" Jack called.

"I'm not staring," Quinn mumbled, lining up to serve

The next rally was fast-paced, with Jack diving to save a ball and Luke lobbing it back over the net. Hayden held her own, quick on her feet and unflinching as instructions were barked at her.

"Nice hit!" Trevor exclaimed after she spiked the ball, raising his hand for a high-five.

She slapped his palm lightly, her smile easy, but Quinn caught the way Trevor's hand lingered for just a second too long.

"Focus, Trev," he snapped, tone sharper than intended.

Trevor turned to him, eyebrows furrowed. "I am focused. You okay, man?"

"I'm fine."

A few points later, Hayden stumbled as she went for the ball, her foot catching in the sand. Quinn moved without thinking, reaching out to steady her before she could fall.

"You good?" he asked, his hand warm on her arm.

"Yeah," she said, brushing the sand off her leg as she looked up at him. Her eyes get his and the rest of the group seemed to fade away.

"Thanks," she added softly.

"Anytime."

"Alright, lovebirds," Cole called, ruining their moment. "Can we play now?"

Hayden laughed, stepping back to her spot. Quinn shot Cole a glare but didn't respond, his ears burning.

The final play came down to Hayden, Trevor, and Cole on one side, with Quinn, Jack, and Luke on the other.

"Just hit it over," Quinn muttered to Jack, who was already bouncing on the balls of his feet.

Trevor set the ball perfectly, sending it sailing towards Hayden. She jumped, spiking it cleanly over the net and straight into the sand on the other side.

"Game!" Trevor yelled, throwing his arms in the air.

Hayden raised her hands in victory, giggling as Trevor ran over to give her a congratulatory hug. Quinn gaze looked like it could kill as Trevor lifted her slightly off the ground, spinning her once before setting her back down.

"Alright, alright," she said, patting him on the shoulder as she escaped his grasp. "Calm down, Z."

"Can't help it," Trevor said grinning as he turned to Quinn. "You guys put up a good fight, though. Better luck next time."

Quinn didn't respond, heading straight for the water with the ball tucked under his arm.

Hayden watched him go, her smile fading. She didn't follow right away, but when she did, she caught up to him at the water's edge, where he was skimming the ball across the surface.

"You okay?" she whispered, wanting to keep their conversation private.

"I'm fine."

"Still just fine? Because you seemed... tense back there."

"Not tense," he muttered, thought Hayden knew him well enough to know he was lying. She could tell from the tightness in his posture.

"You know you can quit the protective act, right? Trevor's harmless."

Quinn snorted. "Harmless isn't the word I'd use."

She knocked his shoulder with hers. "Chill, babe. You need to be more... zen."

"Zen?"

"Shut up, I'm trying. And... just for the record, you're way more fun to play with."

"Yeah?"

"Duh," she said, her smile teasing. "But don't let it get to your head."

"Noted."

The fire crackled softly, sending soft ambers into the air around it. The group lounged in mismatched deck chairs around the campfire, beers and marshmallows in hand. Luke was poking at the logs with a stick, while Jack balanced on the two back legs of his chair... strongly against Hayden's wishes.

She was curled up in one of the chairs, her legs tucked up to her chest, the glow of the fire casting shadows across her face. Quinn sat across from her, trying--and failing--not to stare at how majestic she looked.

"This is nice," she mumbled, sipping her drink.

"Best part of the trip," Jack agreed.

"Well, second best," Trevor added with a grin.

"Let me guess," Hayden said dryly. "The best part is beating everyone at volleyball."

"You fucking know it!"

Quinn rolled his eyes, taking a long sip of beer.

"Alright, I've got a question for you, Hayden," Trevor giggled to himself, already tipsy.

"Here we go," Cole cackled.

"No, no, it's a good one," he insisted. "If you had to date one of us, who would it be?"

The group erupted into groans and howls of laughter, with Luke flinging a marshmallow at Trevor's head. "Dude, what's wrong with you?"

"What?" Trevor asked, popping the sweet into his mouth. "It's a valid question!"

"Is it?"

"Yes! And you have to answer. It's the rules."

"What rules?" Jack asked with a snort.

Trevor ignored him, looking back at Hayden. "Come on. Hypothetically. Who's your pick?"

Hayden looked around the circle, her lips twitching like she was holding back a laugh. "Hmm," she said, drawing out the word just enough to make Trevor lean forward in anticipation. "I think... I'd pick... Cole."

Cole nearly choked on his s'more. "What?"

"You're the least annoying... I think," she shrugged.

"Fucking brutal," Jack shook his head.

"Good choice," Cole lifted his beer to her in toast.

Trevor pouted. "That's not fair. I'm not that annoying."

"Very debatable," Cole said, earning a hard shove.

Trevor, however, wasn't done.

"Okay, new question. What's the most romantic thing a guy's ever done for you?"

"You're fucking killing me," Luke groaned.

"Just answer the question!"

"Probably this guy who made me tea every morning for a week after my late-night shifts. And he didn't even drink tea himself."

"That's cute," Cole nodded.

Jack frowned. "Quinn doesn't drink tea."

Hayden bit her lip, trying to hide her amusement.

Quinn's cheeks burned as every eye in the group turned to him. "What?"

"Nothing... just making an observation."

"Interesting."

"I think it's time for bed," Quinn said abruptly, standing and brushing the sand from his shorts.

Hayden lingered for a moment, finishing her drink before standing and following him.

Quinn was already lying on "her" bed when Hayden slipped into the room, closing the door softly behind her.

"You okay?"

"You keep asking that."

"Let me guess you're fine?"

"Yup," he said, popping the 'p.'

Hayden shook her head, pulling off her tank top and replacing it with one of Quinn's t-shirts before climbing into bed beside him. "You didn't look fine."

"They're fucking relentless."

"It's their job. They're... feeling out my vibe."

"Trevor sucks dick," he rubbed his hands over his face.

Hayden reached out, running her hand through his hair. "You didn't like his questions?"

"No."

"You're cute when you're worked up, you know that?"

Quinn rolled his eyes, but smiled despite himself. "Go to sleep."

"Fine," she said, rolling onto her back and pulling the covers over her. "For the record, I wasn't lying about the tea."

"Goodnight Hayden," he chuckled.

"Night, Huggy."

Hayden couldn't help but wonder if this weekend was proving that maybe... they weren't meant to just be "friends."

Breakfast passed as normal, Trevor making comments about "volleyball rematch strats" and Jack pestering Hayden about if she'd ever stay for another "family" holiday again. Quinn kept his head down, gritting his teeth through most of it.

By the time they made it down for another round of games in the late afternoon, Quinn was wound so tightly he could feel it in the back of his neck.

And then... Trevor started again.

"Hayden, I think you should be the ref," he said tossing the ball between his hands. "You're way too good at this. It's like totally unfair to the rest of us."

"She's not that good," Quinn said, adjusting the net.

"Oh, come on, Qball. Don't be bitter just because she carried my team yesterday."

Hayden cocked an eyebrow. "I'm standing right here, ya know?"

Trevor smirked. "Trust me, I know."

Quinn felt a rush of heat flood his chest, a sharp pang of jealousy and irritation that he couldn't ignore.

"Alright," he snapped, letting go of the net and stepping back. "Can we just play already?"

"Jeez, man. Relax," Trevor blinked, his grin fading slightly.

"Quinn," Hayden mumbled, but he was already walking toward the house, his jaw set and his fists clenched at his sides

She found him a few minutes later, standing in the kitchen and staring out the window at the water.

"What are you doing?" he exhaled sharply.

Hayden frowned. "What'd you mean?"

"This," he gestured towards the lake. "With Trevor. With all of them. You're enjoying this way too much."

"So what if I am? It's harmless, Quinn."

"It's not harmless," his voice rose. "They're pushing, Hayden. They're asking all these questions, making comments--and you're feeding into it!"

"I'm not feeding into it," she said, her tone defensive. "I'm just... playing along."

"Well... maybe you should stop."

"What's your problem, Hughes?" she narrowed her eyes. "You're the one who agreed to keep this under wraps. I'm just doing what you asked."

"Yeah, well, it's not fucking working. They clearly know."

"So what?" she challenged, stepping closer. "What's the worst that could happen? They find out we're sleeping together? Who cares?"

"I care!" Quinn yelled, his voice echoing off the walls.

Hayden froze, her eyes as wide as saucers.

He sighed. "I care, Hayden. Because this isn't just some game for me. It never has been."

The tension in the room was thick, the weight of his words hanging between them.

"Quinn..."

"You have no idea how hard this has been," he said, his voice low and intense. "Watching them flirt with you, tease you--like you're just some... some random girl I brought along."

"Q..."

"I know we're not serious. Not official," he continued, his words tumbling out in a rush. "I know you don't want anything serious. But you're mine, Hayden. And it's fucking killing me to sit here and pretend that you're not."

Her breath hitched, her eyes locked on his.

"Say something," his voice was rough, almost pleading.

Hayden didn't say anything. Instead, in two quick steps, she grabbed his face and pulled him down into a kiss.

Quinn froze for a quarter of a second before his hands found her waist, pulling her closer. The kiss was hot and urgent, everything that Quinn had been bottling up for months spilling out at once.

They stumbled back toward the counter, Hayden's hands tangling in his hair as he lifted her onto the edge. She wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him impossibly closer as his lips trailed down her neck, leaving a burning path in their wake.

"Quinn," she whispered, breathless.

He pulled back just enough to look in her eyes. "Tell me this isn't just casual for you."

She stared at him, her lips swollen and her cheeks flushed. "It's not," she admitted. "Hasn't been for a while."

"Good," he murmured, leaning in to kiss her again.

The lay tangled together in his bed, the room quiet except for them both trying to catch their breath, Hayden drawing patterns on Quinn's bare chest with her finger.

He felt lighter than he had in days, the knot in his chest finally loosened... maybe even gone.

"You okay?" she whispered, pressing a kiss to the skin of his pec.

"Yeah, you?"

She tilted her head up, scruncing her nose as he kissed it. "I'm good."

Finally, they could both breathe easy.

Jack and Trevor were already bickering as Hayden headed downstairs in the morning. She paused in the doorway, taking a second to tug the hem of Quinn's hoodie further down her thighs. It was comically oversized on her, the sleeves swallowing her hands, but it was warm and soft, and she hadn't felt like getting dressed into her own clothes.

Her hair was a mess from both sleep and sex, and her skin was flushed in places Quinn's stubble had brushed against the night before. She wasn't even thinking about it was she padded into the kitchen, bare feet against the hardwood floor.

Trevor was the first to notice. Of course.

"Morning, Hayden," he said cheerfully, taking a bite of his eggs. Then his gaze dropped to the hoodie, and his smile widened. "Wait a second. Is that--"

Jack turned, taking in her appearance. "Oh, no way! Is that Quinn's hoodie?"

Hayden blinked, feigning innocence as she grabbed a mug from the counter and poured herself a cup of coffee. "Good morning to you too, Jack."

"Don't 'good morning' me," he pointed the spatula he was using at her. "What is going on here?"

Trevor's eyes flicked to her neck, and his jaw dropped. "Oh my God!"

"What?" she asked, sipping her coffee like nothing was amiss.

Trevor laughed, loud and incredulous, gesturing wildly. "You've got-- Jesus, Hayden."

"You're gonna have to be specific, Trevor."

Jack moved closer, squinting his eyes like he was solving a crime. This his eyes widened. "No fucking way!"

"What?" Luke asked. He followed Jack's gaze and nearly dropped his fork. "Oh, damn."

"What?" Cole said, peeking over Luke's shoulder. His eyes moved from Hayden to the hoodie to her neck, and then to Quinn, who had just walked in from the living room.

Quinn froze, his hair still damp from the shower and a fresh t-shirt clinging to his chest. "What's goin' on?"

Jack and Trevor turned to him in unison, both grinning like maniacs.

"Quinn," Jack started, his voice high-pitched with fake shock. "Care to explain why Hayden is wearing your hoodie and why her neck looks like she lost a fight with a fucking vampire?"

"Can we not do this right now?"

Trevor cackled, doubling over. "Oh, we're absolutely doing this right now."

"Dude," Luke shook his head. "I thought you said nothing was going on."

Cole smirked, "Guess the couch wasn't so comfortable after all."

"Not helping," Quinn shot him a glare.

"Y'all are making a big deal out of nothing," Hayden said, popping a piece of bacon into her mouth.

Trevor pointed at her, smiling like the Cheshire Cat. "Oh, no. This is not 'nothing', Hayden."

"Looks like something to me," Jack wiggled his eyebrows.

"Guys," Quinn's voice was strained. "Can you please just drop it?"

"Oh, come on, Quinny!" Jack nudged him in the ribs. "This is a big moment. You've got a girlfriend now!"

"She's not my--" Quinn started, but Hayden cut him off.

"Careful, Jack," she smirked. "You sound jealous."

Trevor howled with laughter, gripping the counter for support. "She's good. She's so good."

Quinn groaned, running a hand through his hair. “I hate all of you.”

“No, you don’t,” Hayden said lightly, taking another sip of her coffee.

Luke, who had been mostly quiet, finally spoke up. “So, uh... are we gonna talk about this, or are you just gonna keep pretending it’s ‘nothing’?”

“It’s nothing,” Quinn muttered, glaring at his brothers.

“Yeah, sure,” Cole said, smirking. “We believe you.”

Hayden laughed softly, setting her mug down. “Alright, boys. Enough interrogation. Let the man eat breakfast in peace.”

“Fine,” Jack said, holding up his hands. “But this isn’t over.”

Quinn sighed, grabbing a plate and filling it with eggs and toast. He sat down at the table, avoiding everyone’s gaze.

Hayden slid into the chair beside him, her smile softening as she leaned in close enough for only him to hear. “You okay, Hughes?” she asked for the millionth time that trip.

He exhaled a quiet laugh, his shoulders relaxing slightly. “I’m fine.”

“Good,” she said, squeezing his hand three time under the table.

Quinn didn’t look up, but the faint smile tugging at his lips didn’t go unnoticed.

Maybe the chaos was all worth it in the end. Because Quinn Hughes finally had the girl of his dreams.

#nhl imagine #nhl fic #hockey imagine #hockey fic #quinn hughes #quinn hughes imagine

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babyleostuff · 1 year ago

Text

COSMOPOLITAN | KIM MINGYU

18+ minors dni

word count | 2k

warnings | not proofread, subby and very needy reader, dom gyu, degradation (whore/slut), slight daddy kink, pet names (baby/princess), minor dacryphilia

“what are you smirking at?” mingyu asked from behind the counter, busy with preparing dinner. he was dressed in a black tank top, grey sweatpants, and an apron you got for him for his birthday - nothing out of the ordinary.

normally you’d drool over how gorgeous he was, how his strong arms flexed under the weight of the pans and pots, how his melanin skin was glowing in the afternoon sun, and how his short hair made him ten times hotter, but the recent pictures from the cosmopolitan photoshoot took all of your attention away from him.

mingyu looked over your phone, and laughed. “you know i’m right here, right?” you nodded your head and bit your lip, not really listening to the man before you, busy scrolling through twitter and saving every picture you came upon.

“how are you even real?” you whispered, staring at the photo where you could see part of his back. "wait, is that why you told me to keep my hands to myself that night? so i wouldn't scratch you?" you looked up at mingyu in confusion, just to find him already staring back at you.

“we both know how my back looks like after i fuck you, baby,” he smiled innocently and leaned over the kitchen counter to press a kiss to your lips.

you shifted in your seat, immediately feeling the wetness between your legs. his nonchalance and confidence, the fact that he knew exactly how he affected you, made you want to throw everything off the counter to show him how much you loved and hated him for how beautiful he was.

scrolling to the next photo where you could see his exposed chest, his skin smooth and silky, you smiled to yourself because you knew it was usually covered in your hickeys. that's right, only you knew what it felt like to run your lips over mingyu’s body, how sensitive his nipples were, and what beautiful sounds he made when you got close to his big cock.

“let me know when you’re done drooling over the pictures so we can have dinner,” your man suddenly pulled you out of your thoughts. you looked at him like he was crazy, your eyes unconsciously landing on his perfect ass.

"i don't know if you've noticed, but dinner is the last thing i want to eat right now."

mingyu turned around and laughed at your pouting face. "baby, they're just photos. i literally look the same right now as i do in them," he walked around the counter and cupped your face in his large and warm hands, tilting your head up so you could look at him. “would you stop sulking and eat dinner with me?” you sighed, taking in his puppy eyes that he knew you couldn’t resist.

you nodded your head and pecked his cheek, as he helped you down from the stool you were sitting on. “go and wash your hands, and i’ll get everything ready,’ you patted his chest.

mingyu disappeared into the bathroom for a moment, leaving you alone in the kitchen with the ramen he made and thoughts swarming your mind.

"what are you thinking about?" you suddenly felt familiar arms tighten around your waist, his hard chest pressed against your back, trapping you between his body and the counter. “what do you think?” you huffed, but it quickly turned into a sigh as mingyu trailed his lips along the sensitive part of your neck.

“did my baby get wet just because of a couple of photos?” he murmured and you nodded, not bothered by the fact that you should feel embarrassed about getting turned on so easily. you knew it was better to be obedient with mingyu.

“and what should i do about it, hm?” he whispered into your ear, as he lazily rubbed his thumb over your lower tummy. “gyu, please,” you sighed and threw your head back, so it rested on his shoulder.

you felt his chest move as he laughed, and you were sure that if you tilted your head just a little you would see that your boyfriend’s puppy eyes were gone, but you were way too focused on his hand to move.

"my little stupid baby wants my cock because I showed a bit of skin in a photoshoot," mingyu cooed, as his other hand slowly lifted your top up, revealing your breasts and nipples, which were already waiting for his warm mouth to wrap around them.

but he didn't do anything further, you could only feel his hot breath on your neck.

"use," kiss. "your," kiss. "words," his lips bruised over the nape of your neck with each word, making your toes curl. "or i'll leave you like this, desperate to be fucked, with wet panties, and empty holes.”

you whined at his words and unconsciously rubbed your butt against his hips and you felt that you weren't the only one who was horny. “you won't get my mouth on your pussy, and you definitely won't get my cock if you act like this," your chest quickly rose and fell with each breath, as you struggled to produce any coherent words.

your mind was mush and you had problems thinking straight, but you knew you wouldn’t survive if mingyu left you like that.

“i want… i n-need your hand," you moaned. "where? show me baby," you grabbed mingyu's free hand and guided him to your breast and squeezed tightly. normally it would hurt you, but now the pain felt like salvation. "your m-mouth," you then grabbed the back of his head and tried to guide him to your nipple that was practically begging for his mouth.

mingyu, as if he knew exactly what you were asking for, squeezed your breast even tighter and began to circle your other nipple with his tongue. "and your o-other hand," you sighed, grabbing his hand that was still resting on your stomach, lowering it to your pussy.

“now fuck me,” you thought.

"you know what, i think i'm bored of this,” he said, as if his hand wasn't just circling your clit in torturously slow circles. “let's eat dinner," the moment mingyu said it all the air left your lungs, and you wanted nothing more but to fall on your knees in front of him and beg him to fuck you, but all you could manage was a begging moan.

you gripped the back of mingyu’s head tighter as he continued to lick your nipple like a lollipop, but you knew that no matter how much force you used, you had no chance against him.

you were like a rag doll to him, like a toy he could push around.

“please m-mingyu,” you pushed your hips harder against his hand for more friction and almost cried out when you felt him pinch your clit. "you're just a slut who just wants to get fucked, right?" he chuckled, going back to rubbing slow circles around your clit. “y-yes g-gyu, i am. i'm your slut,” you moaned as you felt his fingers at your entrance. you grabbed his wrist to hurry him up, but he didn't move even an inch. "great, then you need to be fucked hard, whore."

you let out a tearful moan as you suddenly felt him remove his fingers from your cunt, but not before he collected your wetness. “open your mouth, princess,” you immediately did as mingyu told you and a second later you were politely sucking on his two thick fingers like an obedient girl.

“good girl,” he murmured, looking you straight in the eyes.

he pulled them out after a while with a loud "pop" and your lips continued to follow them for a moment as if you wanted to continue sucking them. "another time, baby. remember, i have to fuck you now,” mingyu caressed your cheek gently, as you pouted at him, and started pulling his black tank top over his head.

“tell me honestly, baby,” he said and you continued undressing him. your fingers quickly found the bow of the apron behind his back and you had no trouble untying it.

"if i wasn't at home, would you touch yourself tonight because of these photos? would you imagine my tongue in your pussy? would you ride your pillow, imagining it was my cock? would you have to bite your lip, imaging it was my shoulder, like you do when you don't want the neighbors to know how well i fuck you?"

a soft sigh left your lips and you had to put your hand on mingyu's chest to keep from falling. “my poor princess,” he muttered, brushing your hair away from your face. one of his hands rested on your waist and the other moved down to your ass, pulling you closer to his body.

his hard cock was pressing into your stomach and you knew he needed you as much as you needed him, only he was better at hiding it. you whined like a child and grabbed the waistband of his pants, pulling them off of him in one move.

"good job, baby. now i can finally fuck your greedy pussy," he smiled like it was some kind of game. honestly, for him it probably was. without any warning, he suddenly leaned you forward so that your chest was lying on the counter, your cheek and tits against the cold granite, contrasting with the warmth of the hand mingyu had on your ass.

"look at you. you're leaking," he ran his hand down your back. "so what, you expect me to clean up after you afterwards, right?" suddenly you felt him pulling your hair, hard enough to lift your head off the counter. "answer me slut."

“n-no, daddy, i'll clean it up myself later,” he laughed, tugging at your hair again as if he was enjoying your discomfort. "good slut."

as if you were nothing more than his toy, mingyu grabbed your hips roughly and lifted you up so that his cock was touching your ass and you had no choice but to stand on your tiptoes. "this hole probably wants me to fill it with my cum too, but that's for another day, yeah baby?” he asked, running his cock over your puckered hole.

“now your tight pussy needs to get what it deserves," and without any warning, in one quick move his thick cock entered your cunt.

you moaned loudly, closing your eyes from the mind-blowing feeling, mixed with pain, but you didn't care - nothing could compare to the feeling of mingyu's cock stretching your pussy. “f-fuck, baby,” he groaned, pressing his hips harder against yours. "i love your little pussy."

"daddy, p-please move!" you cried, turning your head to look at him, as your cunt sucked him in deeper.

as if he hadn't fucked you in months, mingyu grabbed your hips and started thrusting in and out of you hard and fast, so that your tits were sliding against the counter with every movement and you had no choice but to let your boyfriend fuck you. you couldn't see his face, but you were sure he was biting his lip and his eyebrows were furrowed in concentration.

the sound of his balls slapping against your pussy and the squelching sound of your cunt, mixed with your moans and cries filled your kitchen, and there was no point in trying to muffle the noise anymore.

"my pussy." "i love when my little princess lets me fuck her like that." "tight and warm, a perfect fuck for my cock."

mingyu was starting to babble and you knew he was close too. his movements were getting sloppier, but you were sure you’d be left with bruises from how tightly he was holding you, his finger digging into your flesh. tears were rolling down your cheeks, and you could feel your wetness making a mess between your bodies and surely on the floor too, but you couldn’t care less.

holding you with one hand so you wouldn't fall, his other slipped between your bodies and he quickly found your clit. “mingyu,” you moaned for the hundredth time that afternoon, grabbing his hand to make him rub your clit faster.

"come on. cum on my cock, my princess," with one last stroke and a light pinch to your clit, you felt a wave of warmth wash over you, as your pussy clenched mercilessly on his cock. mingyu moaned loudly and came a second later.

after a moment, he gently grabbed your bruised hips, turning you to face him. he ran his hands up your thighs and brushed your hair away from your face. "but really, honey? it's all because of a few photos?" he smiled as if he hadn't just fucked you until you couldn't sit up straight.

“what can I do about it,” you shrugged, nuzzling into his bare chest. "I simply have the most handsome boyfriend in the world."

mingyu chuckled, his arms wrapping around you in a warm hug. "do you know what your most handsome boyfriend in the world wants now?" you shook your head in amusement, looking at him.

"eat dinner, watch a movie and fall asleep in the arms of the most beautiful girl in the world."

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carmenberzattosgf · 11 months ago

Note

OH MY GOD CARMY SMOKING WHILE YOU RIDE HIM walk with me…

maybe you’re at his place, or his office, and you’ve just been kinda needy all day. not to an ‘annoying’ extent, but carmen sees it because he knows you. so when he tugs his jeans and boxers down just enough for you, you pounce

he leans back in his couch/chair, pulling out a cigarette and lazily watches you go at it. maybe he’d tug your shirt up so he could ‘see his girls.’ his nonchalance just drives you fucking crazy and he lets you do it yourself, no matter how many times you whine for him to help because ‘you were fuckin’ gagging for it all day, who am i to interrupt, huh? jus’ keep fuckin’ me like that’

i don’t think he’d blow smoke in your face (intentionally) but if you find it hot he would. and once he’s done he puts out the cigarette, his lax grip on your thighs tightening as he starts snapping his hips against yours

Also includes this ask I got shortly after: Camry smoking a cig during sex has my mind going brrrrrrrrrrrrr. It's so lazy, too. just slow riding him while he lays back and watches. Maybe it's punishment for acting up???? You're just whining on his cock begging for him to help you cum.

I. YEAH. YOU GET IT. Time to expand on these thoughts. ( this ended up being 1670k words of filth)

You find yourself at Carmy’s apartment on his day off. Those don’t come around too often. You expected him to do something by now, but he hasn’t made a single move to get his hands on you. He kissed you when you came in, but that was about it.

You take matters into your own hands. Try to, at least. You are practically all over him, never leaving his side. When he’s standing at his kitchen counter that evening, pouring you a glass of wine, you quietly walk up behind him. Your arms wrap around his waist while you rest your forehead on the center of Carmy’s back. You let your hands gently slide over the taunt muscles of his stomach over his shirt as you speak.

“I’ve missed you, Bear. Missed your hugs. It feels like I’ve hardly seen you all week.” He sighs into your touch.

“I’ve missed you too, baby.” Carmy turns around to hand you the glass. “Work was extra crazy this week. I’m sorry I didn’t have time to see you.”

“It’s alright. I know it was out of your control…Maybe there’s a way you can make it up to me?” You flash him a look he knows full well.

A breathy chuckle leaves his lips. “Sweetheart, I’m exhausted. Can we just watch some tv?”

You don’t even attempt to hide the pout on your face as you settle next to him on the couch, leaning against him with his arm around you. Carmy put on a show he knows the both of you like.

You only keep your hands to yourself for one whole episode. Your movements start slow. At first you begin to trail your fingertips along his side. It’s not long before your hand slides up under the fabric of his white tee.

“Baby, what are you doing?” Carmen’s voice is smooth and calm. You lean up to press a kiss on his check, followed by a quick one to his neck.

“Oh. Nothing.”

“Let’s not play dumb now. I think you know better than that.” He leans back away from your body, forcing you to meet his eyes. “I’m going to let you try again. What are you doing?”

You fold instantly. “I need you, Carm. I really need you.”

“Yeah? Missed my cock, huh? Want it so bad that you don’t care about how tired I am?”

“No! No, that’s not it—“ you protest quickly.

“Fine.” Carmy begins to unbuckle his belt as he speaks. “But I’m not putting in any work.” He lowers his jeans and boxers just enough to free his dick.

Without a second thought, you stand up from the couch and pull down your pants and underwear. Once you straddle his hips, you reach down and pump his hard cock, spreading the precum over his length. Carmy takes in the sight of you as you gradually sink down onto him. Slowly, inch by inch.

Despite how many times you've been with Carmy, you still haven't gotten used to the stretch. In a position like this, it almost feels like he's in your stomach. Your eyelids squint shut while you take deep breaths and try to adjust. Though, at the sound of a lighter, your eyes pop right back open, staring down at Carmen with wide-eyes. A cigarette rests between his lips, having just been lit.

“W-what are you doing?” You’re expecting him to start guiding your hips, but he doesn’t. Carmy leans back against the couch, making himself comfortable. He lets his legs spread wide, forcing you to straddle higher up on his hips. The action presses his cock even deeper inside of you. He looks as though he’s having an evening cigarette, only difference is that you’re on top of him.

His tattooed fingers takes the cigarette from his mouth so he can blow out the smoke. Carmy turns his head to the side, blowing the smoke cloud away from you. The smell quickly fills up your nose. "I told you, l'm tired.” His voice is stoic. If it wasn’t for his cock pulsing inside of you, you wouldn’t think he’s turned on. “Go on and get yourself off. I'm going to enjoy my cigarette."

You start slow, grinding your hips on him. Your hands rest on his lower stomach for leverage as you rock against him. His abs are taunt and hard underneath your palms. The motion rubs your clit on his pelvis, causing a breathless moan to leave your throat.

Carmy remains still beneath you, watching you with lust-filled eyes. One of his hands rests on your thigh. His other hand tends to the cigarette in his mouth. He speaks up after a moment of letting you rock against him.

“Should have just let you sit on my thigh if all you’re going to do is grind on me. Thought you said you wanted my cock?” He waits for your response, bringing the cigarette back up to his lips to take a deep drag.

“I-I do—“ Carmy doesn’t let you finish your sentence, lightly blowing smoke into your face. He doesn’t miss the way you clench around him from the simple action, but he chooses not to tease you for it.

“Then fuck yourself on me. You’re a big girl. You can do it by yourself.”

You whimper pitifully. You want his strong arms to grab your hips and slam you down onto his cock, but that wasn’t going to happen. You rise up on your knees, letting his cock thrust almost entirely out of you. Your hips sink right back down onto him afterwards. The pleasure is unexplainable, sending electricity through your veins as he bottoms out.

You set a slow pace, not able to go as fast without Carmy’s help. His pupils are blown wide as he stares up at you, before his gaze moves downwards. He watches as his cock disappears inside of you with each slow thrust. You’re dripping, coating his dick with your arousal. The sight of his thick cock stretching you out hypnotizes him.

His lack of words and refusal to help is killing you. You need him to fuck you. Your thighs burn, growing tired from the repetitive movements. “C-carm. Need you to help. Please- please I need it.” You cry out.

“You were the one gagging for my cock all day. Why should I help? Just keep fucking me like this, yeah?” He’s nearing the end of his cigarette, only a couple more minutes of life left in it. You try your best to continue bouncing on him, but it’s getting more difficult by the minute.

“Carm— fuck!” You exclaim as his cock nudges against that spot deep inside you. Carmy ignores your cries. He takes his hand off of your thigh and tugs the material of your tank top up, exposing your tits.

“There we go. Now I can see my girls.” He still doesn’t go any further than that, letting his hand go back to resting on your thigh. Not even so much as rubbing a thumb over your breast. He goes back to watching you move, fighting the urge to hold your tits for you while you bounce.

The muscles in your legs begin to twitch, but not from being close to your high. Your legs are exhausted, and your pace shows it. You’re getting slower, not going as consistently.

Carmy reaches the end of his cigarette, taking one last long drag. He grabs your face with his hand. His thumb on your chin opens up your lips. Carmen exhales the smoke into your mouth, expecting you to inhale it. You do exactly that, letting the smoke fill up your lungs before blowing it out in the space between the two of you.

Now fully satisfied, Carmy reaches over to stub out his cigarette on the ash tray sitting on the side table. Without offering a single word, Carmy digs his hands into both of your thighs and starts slamming his hips into yours. Sounds of skin against skin echo against the walls.

“Shit! Fuck, Carmy—“ you moan, not even trying to control your volume. “I can— I can feel you in my stomach, shit—“ You take one of your hands and press beneath your navel, feeling his cock as it thrusts rapidly into your soaking cunt. “Feels so good, Carm.” You’re blabbering at this point, high on the feeling of him inside you. Your orgasm draws close fast.

“Yeah you needed me so bad that you couldn’t get off without me? Is that it? My little girl needed some help?”

“Yes—“

“Then what do you say?” Carmen is nearing his own high, too. His pace grows sloppy.

“T-thank you— fuck— thank you, Carmy.”

“There’s my respectful good girl. Just needed a little bit of punishment to get her back.” He detaches a hand from your thigh, moving it to your aching clit. He rubs tight fast circles on the bud with a calloused thumb. “Go on, baby. Cum for me. Soak my cock.”

Your orgasm hits you like a freight train. Euphoria floods through your veins as Carmy fucks you through it. You collapse into his body, hiding your face in the crook of his neck. The sounds of your moans and whimpers muffles in the skin of his neck. Your body shakes from pleasure.

Carmy removes his thumb from your clit, not wanting to overstimulate you. You had already been punished enough. His hand rests at the back of your head, cupping it gently. The gentleness of his hands starkly contrasts the way his hips sharply thrust into you.

“Atta girl. Just a bit more—“ he groans, offering you some praise. With a few more powerful thrusts of his hips, Carmy spills inside of you, filling you up with his cum. You both remain wordless in each others’ arms for a moment, trying to catch a breath. Carmy is the first to break the silence. “You happy now?” This time his voice has a hint of laugh to it.

“Mhm.” You kiss his neck. “Very happy. Thank you.”

“I think you know I’ll do anything you want at this point.” He laughs. “Now, can we go clean up and go to sleep? I’m even more exhausted now, baby.”

#carmen berzatto x reader #carmen berzatto #carmy berzatto x reader #the bear fanfiction #carmen berzatto smut #the bear #carmy berzatto smut #carmy berzatto #I’m actually really proud of this one #hopefully it doesn’t suck!#brain rot

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diamonddaze01 · 1 month ago

Note

May i request prompt 81 "you weren't supposed to hear that" with Mingyu? But something cute/fluffy? <3

seasoned with love

pairing: mingyu x reader | wc: 0.9k prompt: "you weren't supposed to hear that." au: chef!mingyu au | warnings: none a/n: set in the same universe as love: best served hot (shameless plug you should go read that too if u love chef mingoo)

The evening rush was slowly winding down, but the kitchen hummed with its usual rhythm. The faint crackle of oil, the hiss of fresh vegetables meeting the sizzling heat, and the soft clatter of plates filled the air. The smell—garlic, rosemary, and something richer that you couldn't quite place—wrapped around you like a warm blanket. Mingyu's kitchen had its own energy, its own language, a chaotic comfort that you had come to love.

You hadn’t planned on staying long—just wanted to surprise him, maybe share a quiet dinner together. You were no stranger to the hours he worked, so you knew he'd still be at the restaurant long after most had already called it a night. You lingered outside, listening to the sounds of the kitchen, the laughter and chatter of the staff mixing with the low thrum of pots and pans.

The door to the kitchen was slightly ajar, and you hesitated for just a moment before quietly stepping closer, drawn by the warmth and the sound of Mingyu’s familiar voice. You had every intention of just slipping in unnoticed—an unexpected visitor who’d make his night a little brighter.

As you approached, the voices inside grew clearer, and you halted when you heard Mingyu’s low voice.

“I don’t know how she does it, man,” Mingyu’s voice rumbled from inside, smooth and casual. But there was something softer underneath, something vulnerable in the way he spoke. “Like, no matter how tired I am or how crazy the day’s been… when she walks in, it’s like everything just... calms down. I don’t even need to say anything, she just knows. It’s kind of crazy.”

You paused, suddenly unsure whether to reveal yourself. But Mingyu’s voice was too soothing, too filled with affection to ignore. You couldn’t help but lean in closer, silently listening as he continued.

“I swear, she’s my grounding force, you know?” His tone shifted, a warmth lacing the words as though he was letting something private slip out without realizing it. “She makes everything feel... lighter. More worth it.”

You couldn’t help the smile that crept onto your face, heart warming at his words. You didn’t notice the slight creak of the door beneath your hand, and before you knew it, you had stepped fully into the room, revealing yourself to Mingyu.

His words cut off abruptly, and his eyes snapped to you, wide with surprise. The sudden shift in his demeanor was so evident you could almost feel it in the air. The cool, collected chef you knew now stood frozen, caught between a moment of revelation and his usual confident self.

“Oh—” His voice jumped up an octave as he quickly straightened, one hand instinctively reaching up to adjust the towel slung over his shoulder. His eyes flickered between you and the kitchen counter, a flush creeping over his cheeks. “You weren’t supposed to hear that.” His attempt at nonchalance was laughable; his voice was suddenly louder, a little too sharp. You couldn’t miss the slight nervousness in the way he stood.

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms with a playful tilt of your head. “And why’s that?”

Mingyu swallowed, clearly flustered, but the sly smile tugging at the corners of his lips betrayed his embarrassment. He scratched the back of his neck, trying to feign casualness, though his stance was all too stiff. “Uh, well... you know... it’s, uh, kinda embarrassing to talk about you like that... behind your back.”

You pushed yourself off the wall and took a step closer, a teasing grin forming on your lips. His warmth enveloped you as you moved, the familiar scent of his apron and the kitchen’s spices lingering in the air. You couldn’t stop yourself from leaning in just a little. “Mushy, huh? I think you’re just too scared to admit you’re soft.”

Mingyu blinked at you in mock disbelief, though the humor was evident in his eyes. “Soft?” He let out a breathless laugh, shaking his head. “If anything, I’m just... real about how I feel.”

You raised a challenging eyebrow, a playful glint in your eyes. “Oh, so you feel like you need to ‘ground’ me now?” you teased, leaning against the counter next to him, nudging your shoulder against his lightly. “Making me your ‘everything’s worth it’?”

For a moment, Mingyu’s expression softened, and you caught the slightest shift in his eyes, a vulnerability there that he rarely let anyone see. But before you could say anything more, he closed the space between you, his hand reaching up to gently cup your cheek. His lips found yours in a kiss—warm, slow, and full of everything unspoken. You melted into it, a rush of affection flooding you.

When he finally pulled back, his hand still resting on your cheek, he grinned, a faint blush coloring his face. “Yeah. But I’m not apologizing for it.” His voice was playful, but his eyes were sincere. Then, with a wink, he turned toward the stove, reaching for a pan. “Now, how about you stay for dinner? I’ll make you my specialty.”

You smirked, crossing your arms as you leaned a little closer to him, feeling the heat of his body as he moved. “Is that how you win me over? With food?”

Mingyu grinned, shrugging nonchalantly as he started to prepare your meal. “Among other things,” he said, winking at you as he added a little more heat to the pan. “But mostly food.”

send me an ask for my drabble game!

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oldwritingm · 6 months ago

Text

Creepypasta/MH - How They Would Welcome You Back (after not seeing you for a while)

Characters: Nina the Killer, Jeff the Killer, Eyeless Jack, Tim/Masky, Jane the Killer

Nina

Shouts your name when she sees you, and BOLTS into you

She crashes against you, almost losing her balance from the sheer force

Her arms are flung around you, pinning your own arms to your sides with surprising strength

"Eek! Y/n! Aah... I missed you so much!"

She giggles as she finally lets you go, settling her hands on your shoulders while she looks at you with a huge smile

She compliments your appearance eagerly, and blushes when you do the same

She can't stop giggling throughout the whole process though

Literally nonstop... but she's just so happy!!

Normally she'd suggest a more exciting hangout, like stalking people at the mall or... y'know... putting the laughter in slaughter or smth legal activities

But this time she just wants to stay home and hold you :3

And maybe watch a movie with ice cream too!

Jeff

Pretends to be all nonchalant about it

"Oh, you're back. Hey."

Especially if others are around

But his eyes keep lingering on you, and though you're across the room it feels like he's looming over you

His presence is just so..... unsettling? Like, more than usual lol

Bro's just watching so closely

It'd make anyone nervous, but if you're dating Jeff you're definitely crazy enough not to be too disturbed

Because you know what's actually waiting for you when you're alone

Not murder, but:

He throws an arm around your shoulder and another under your knees, scooping you up wordlessly

Then it's cuddle time :]

He'll be doing something else while you cuddle, and he won't say anything, but if you try to move or get up he'll glare daggers at you

In his mind, you're making up for lost time together

Eyeless Jack

He'd have been waiting for your return

No matter how long he had to wait, he was always ready

Clean home (well, as clean as a cannibalistic demon's home can be), hot food ready, fluffy blankets on the bed...

So when you finally do come, he gets straight to the point

The point being spoiling you ofc

He loves taking care of you; that's his way of showing affection

So he's just excited to finally do that again!

He wouldn't have given you any physical affection when seeing you I think

The most he'd have done would've been to grab your hand to lead you along

"Y/n! I'm so glad to see you again... come on, everything's ready for you."

Tim/Masky

He's dumbfounded when he sees you again

Like, he just blinks at you

It's as if he never expected you to return :(

"Y/n..?"

Then he pulls you into a hug, finally processing the fact that you're there

The same smell of cigarettes and coffee fills your nose, and you breathe it in deeply

(He's lowkey doing the same with your smell)

The hug finishes with one more super-tight squeeze, then he pulls away to look at your face

"Hey."

He's so smooth guys <3

But on a real note, he's just so surprised to see you; he doesn't know how to react

Trust me though, he's never letting you go again

Jane

I think she'd have something planned too

So when she sees you again, she gets really excited

She tries to keep it somewhat cool though, greeting you warmly with a kiss on the cheek and a hug

But you can tell she's trying not to act excited... she's rocking on her heels way more than "usual" (never)

Finally she tells you to close your eyes, and you can really tell she's excited now

She puts something in your hands and kisses you on the mouth

When you open your eyes, you see a jewelry box in your hand

It's your favorite form of jewelry (ring, necklace, bracelet, anklet, etc) in your favorite gemstone/color!!

She loves seeing you wear the things she gets you, especially when she puts so much thought into them

Just like she did this time ;3

Bit of a different style from the other one, but here we go!! Thank you so much for reading, take care my duckies! <3

(divider by saradika)

#creepypasta #creepypasta x reader #nina the killer #nina the killer x reader #jeff the killer #jeff the killer x reader #creepypasta headcanons #eyeless jack #eyeless jack x reader #tim wright #tim wright x reader #masky #masky x reader #jane the killer #jane the killer x reader

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lovebugism · 1 year ago

Note

Random conversations with rockstar eddie while high that obviously lead to something dirty 👀

ty for requesting :D — eddie asks you who you'd most want to have a threesome with and confessions are shared (band!au, established relationship, mentions of weed and smut 18+, 1.2k)

fictober (㇏(•̀ᵥᵥ•́)ノ)

It started out all cute, in your defense.

The tour bus was parked in Colorado for the next couple of nights, and the mountains and trees were aflame with a very distinct golden color. You and Eddie chose to bask in the orange while the rest of the band spent the evening in the hotel.

Your night alone was an innocent one — despite the cheeky taunts and whistles from the rest of Corroded Coffin. Squished together in your bunk, the two of you got high and proceeded to talk about everything and nothing all at once.

You share one pillow, noses mere inches apart, just barely fitting together on the small mattress. The skunky smell of weed and Eddie’s musky cologne is all-consuming, suffocating in the best way.

Your poorly concealed giggles fill the silence of the bus as you press your palm against Eddie’s pale one, comparing the size difference between the two. It shouldn’t amuse you as much as it does.

“Would you still love me if Roger Taylor asked you out?” Eddie blurts, growing suddenly serious about the question that only just popped into his mind.

He hadn’t meant to say it out loud. He thought it, and the words just sorta spilled from his mouth.

Your brows pinch at the sudden question, though there’s still a small smile on your face. You can’t be sure where he’s coming from — if it’s the weed or if he remembers the one time you very drunkenly confessed to having a decade-long obsession with the blonde-haired drummer in your girlhood.

“What?” you wonder, still giggling.

“I mean, like, if he showed up to one of our shows and asked you out, would you say yes?”

You ponder the question. For a few seconds too long, maybe. Mostly because it takes you a little while to understand him through the brain fog.

“Well… no,” you answer finally, voice wavering as your eyes flit to the darkened ceiling.

“No?”

“No,” you repeat, more firmly this time. Your gaze returns to his chocolate one, made a darker shade from the black night — they sparkle, still. A grin blooms on your face. “But I think if you really loved me, you’d let me fuck him. Just one time.”

You’re obviously kidding. It’s just a stupid joke made more evident by the dumb, lopsided smile on your face and the pointer finger you hold up to your nose.

Eddie knows this, and he’s sporting his own rosy grin accordingly. A fleeting thought sears his brain. It bubbles up in his throat and tumbles out before he can stop it.

“Only if I get to watch,” he retorts, all boyish and quiet.

It’s hard to tell if he’s joking or not. But then again, it usually is. You decide to toe the line, anyway. “Really?” you hum, shifting on the mattress to face him more intently.

The boy shrugs while you smooth ornery curls from his temple. “Yeah. You’re hot. He’s hot. One plus one equals two… Or whatever that expression is.”

“Fair,” you concede, laughing still.

“Alright. Your turn.”

“My turn?”

“Mhmm,” he nods sloppily against the pillow. “Who would you wanna have a threesome with? Like, in a different universe or whatever, ‘cause I don’t think I’m strong enough to share you in real life.”

Again, you giggle. You can’t seem to stop, apparently. You answer quicker than either of you expect.

“Umm… Maybe Nancy,” you answer with a strange sort of nonchalance. “She’s hot… And also she looks like she slaps really hard.”

Eddie’s brain goes blank. And not from the weed this time.

He knew Nancy. Vaguely. Mostly from you. She’s your old friend from high school that you reconnect with every couple of months. You don’t talk crazy often — ‘cause life is too busy for an up-and-coming rockstar and Indiana’s best journalist — but the connection is never truly lost.

And it’s not just that you chose Nancy without having to think about it very hard. He just wasn’t expecting it to be someone you knew in real life. Someone so tangible. That Roger Taylor scenario would only ever happen in wet dreams — his, namely — but Nancy Wheeler? That could be arranged.

The thought alone has him reeling.

You watch him get in his head about the whole thing, though maybe the faraway look in his eyes is just from the weed.

“Well?” you press with an urging lilt and a girlish grin. “You’re turn, Eds. Don’t leave me hangin’ here.”

He goes quiet, which is very unlike your loudmouth boy. He thinks before he speaks, measures his reply before he answers. His absentminded fingers trace up and down the length of your arm all the while, leaving prickling goosebumps in their wake.

“What about Steve?” he wonders with a painfully nonchalant inflection.

Your face screws up instantaneously. You don’t mean to act as shocked as you do, but you can’t help it. “Steve?” you blurt, louder than you meant to. “Like… Steve Steve?”

As in your ex-boyfriend Steve.

As in one of his best friends Steve.

As in roommate Steve the couple weeks out of the year you two aren’t on the road.

It makes your head spin something fierce.

“There another Steve I don’t know about?” Eddie jokes.

Brows still pinched and face still twisted, you question, “So you wanna… fuck Steve? Like, Steve The Hair Harrington?”

“You did,” the boy shrugs, then fakes a soft pout. “Sometimes I feel left out…”

You press your palm to his chest, pushing him playfully away. His arm curls around your back to pull you close again. The proximity is lesser now, so much so that the tips of your nose brush together and your skunky breaths entwine.

It all feels so much heavier now. The intensity of the moment makes you fight back a shiver crawling up your spine. Eddie’s palm smooths up and down the length of it in a slow and measured rhythm. It does little to ease your breathlessness.

“I don’t know. I just think it could be fun,” the boy concludes with a sudden seriousness. His voice is as low as his eyelids. “And I think it’d be real hot to watch him fuck you… ‘Cause we both know he can’t make you cum like I can. Can he, doll?”

Your thighs clench together instinctually, as though to quell the sudden ache pounding between them. You nod slowly, wordlessly.

Eddie’s rosy lips quirk in a cheeky half-smile at your honeyed reaction. He continues — half because the high has loosened his tongue and half because he wants to see how flustered he can make you.

“And then he can watch you fall apart on my dick after, yeah?” he questions like you’re in any space to answer him. “Maybe I can give him a few pointers… Teach him how to fuck you properly, you know?”

The distant ache between your thighs has grown to a full bloom now. It’s a little embarrassing how effortlessly he can drive you crazy — how quickly he can make you drench your panties. You might’ve been a little shameful about it if you couldn’t feel his cock stiffening against your hip.

“Fuck, Eds…” you sigh, the words tumbling from your mouth without thinking.

With parted lips, you drift towards the boy and his unkissed mouth. He juts his chin slightly backward, only lets your plush bottom lips graze together. You don’t know why he’s teasing you. You’re already a puddle at his feet.

With a smirk and an all-consuming touch along your spine, he makes a quiet promise. “And maybe, if you’re real good, you can watch me fuck him, too…”

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

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jeonqbunny · 1 year ago

Text

leavin' the door open

toji fushiguro x f!reader smut ♡

summary: your planned hook up session with toji fushiguro goes south when you leave your apartment door unlocked (he sneaks in & rails ya. :3)

content warning: dom!toji fushiguro x sub f!reader, spit play, degrading, creampie, somnophilia, oral f! receiving, pinning, rough sex, slapping, age gap (reader is in university), uses of petnames (baby, doll, slut, pretty girl) all that stuff man it's SMUT.

word count: 2.9k (not proof read </3)

MINORS DNI

you laid there lost in your own thoughts, the chilly fall air wafting through the half opened window as you laid sprawled out on the lustrous sheets of your bed. you felt your eyes get heavier, sleepiness ridden in your somber expression as you let out a quiet sigh. “toji’s running late, again.” you murmured to yourself out loud, stirring in the bed to lay on your side comfortably. it wasn’t uncommon for him to be unreliable, after all you weren’t his girlfriend. he was only coming over to partake in your casual hook up as he normally would.

toji fushiguro was a charming, and very attractive older man who you ran into at a bar a few months back. you were simply there to (not so much) enjoy the bitter taste of alcohol and smooth the edge a bit. you weren’t looking, but you sure as hell found something. as you sat at the bar, swirling the nose stinging liquid around in the shiny glass of the cup, a significantly larger man took a seat next to you at the bar. it was almost comical how large he looked sitting on a stool. sure, you took a couple glances at him, after all, how could you not? he was insanely alluring, and hard to look away from.

your glances didn’t go unnoticed by the older man who was seated next to you, a curious smirk tugging on the corners of his scarred lips. He let out a deep huff of air before turning to look at you, his veiny hand engulfing his glass of whiskey. his eyes were a shiny dark emerald green, easy to become enchanted by, almost like a snake.

they held a very nonchalant and unamused look inside of them, he let out a soft chuckle before speaking. “need summin’ pretty girl?” he queried with an amused grin on his face as he raised his cup to his mouth, taking a long swig of whiskey. strangely enough, his gaze never left yours. not even for a second as he slid his cup back onto the surface of the bar and asked for another. “ya ever learned any manners? don’t cha know it’s rude to stare?” his second question pulled you out of your daze, your head shaking softly to wake you up from your incessant daydreaming.

you swallow thickly, shaking your head no like your life depended on it. “no, no. Sorry. didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable you're jus' good lookin.” you replied in a mumble, your words barely audible before he leaned in and cupped his hand behind his ear as if to tell you he couldn’t hear you. your breath nearly caught in your throat from the sudden close proximity, starting to second guess your statement. the smell of cologne and whiskey mixed with the faint scent of cigarettes nearly enough to drown you.

you smiled timidly, leaning forward and repeating yourself a bit louder. “i’m all good, i don’t need anything.” you pulled away once again, taking a sip of the alcohol and slightly wincing when it stings the back of your throat. he scoffed playfully, rolling his finger around his head in circles, insinuating that you were crazy. his eyes rolled back over to his now refilled cup of whiskey, a sigh of relief leaving his throat.

he was older, not taking a whole lot of interest in going on dates or hooking up. he was convinced he was a bit too old to be landing some ass, but there you were, your form elegantly sitting on the stool, lookin' all dolled up and timid. your pretty eyes batting at him in a way that made his slacks tighten. such a pretty young thing, practically begging for him to take you home and destroy you.

“a’ight then.” he shrugged, his dress shirt stressing against his broad shoulders as he turned to face the bar fully once again. you didn’t know what it was about him that had you pressing your thighs together, already trying your best to hush the way you were pretty much purring. but you could assume it was his unbothered demeanor and lack of enthusiasm that sucked you in, that’s putting aside his undeniable good looks of course. something about cold older men had you in a chokehold, you weren't one to deny that.

you were lost in your own thoughts as you looked down to the liquid in your cup, your thoughts swimming with unholy thoughts about this man next to you. the appealing thought caused you to tug your lip in between your teeth. “so what are you doin’ here all by yourself?” the deep voice boomed next to you, causing you to jolt out of your trance before turning to find him already looking you up and down. “get stood up? yer lookin’ awfully dolled up to be sitting here by yourself.” he assumed in a low grumble, taking another sip of his whiskey.

the tension in the air was thick, making your lungs feel heavy as you blinked in astonishment. you took a moment to think, carefully formulating your words before you responded. “just wanted to grab a drink, uni is stressful.” you responded simply, your fingers tracing the edge of your cup as you leaned forward onto the edge of the bar. toji’s gaze drank you up, his adam’s apple bobbing as he nodded along silently.

after a while of talking and drinking with the older man, you found yourself in his bed the very same night. you didn’t even catch his name until you were walking funny and nearly out of his door. he asked you for your name and number, insinuating that he would surely be coming back for seconds.

this leads you to your current predicament, laying on your bed with an aching between your legs. you exchanged some freaky ass texts, ultimately coercing him into coming over to fill you up just how you liked. he was taking longer than usual, causing a sense of worry to wash over you. you tried not to think about it too much, eventually falling asleep, finally giving in to the weight of your eyelids as you felt slumber consume you. your form was limp on your bed, settled deep into the mattress as the room filled with the sound of your deep breaths.

meanwhile, toji was just on his way to come and do as he always did. fuck you stupid. he groaned in annoyance as he called you, the repetitive ringing somehow less annoying than the sound of your obnoxious voicemail. he knocked a few times on the door of your apartment, his eyebrows knitted together in confusion as to where you could have gone. he wiggled the door knob, finding that the door was unlocked.

this simply pissed him off even more, thinking about you being this idiotic and irresponsible in your ripe age. his pants were painfully tight as he let out a groan, freshly off work and beyond sexually frustrated “stupid broad leaving her door unlocked– the fuck..” he grumbled, debating on whether or not to enter your apartment or just take the L and leave.

he ultimately decided on entering, his cock throbbing in his pants really clouding his judgment. his large frame entered the nearly pitch black apartment before clicking the door closed behind him and locking it. he tried to navigate his way to your room, tripping over random bits and bobs on your floor and nearly eating shit. "the fuck was that? damn near took my ass out." he grumbled, stabling himself with the wall as he continued to your bedroom.

he finally made it, the door slightly cracked allowing him to look at your moonlit sleeping form. this only made his erection twitch in his pants all the more, a wet spot appearing on his slacks as he pushed the door open. "this girl man, she gon' make me do some desperate ass shit."

his breath hitched in his throat at the sight of you, so innocent and unknowing as your hair sprawled out underneath your head. he made his way towards you and sat on the edge of the bed, the frame creaking and the mattress sinking in from his weight. he traced your bare thigh with the back of his index finger, whispering your name in a desperate attempt to wake you up. "wake up doll, you got me worked up with those messages of yer's." his voice was hoarse and airy, gripping your plush thigh in his thick long fingers while shaking it gently.

all to no avail however, you remained asleep and uninterrupted in your slumber. he hissed, sucking air in through his teeth as his cock strained against the fabric of his slacks. he continued gripping your thigh, only tightening more as his other hand palmed himself through his pants. he let out a low groan, his throat dry and raspy as he looked down at you.

“stupid little girl, leavin’ her door unlocked and teasing me..” he sputtered under his breath, his chest starting to heave the more he palmed at his needy cock. his hand trailed up your thigh, reaching into the inner part of your thighs and spreading them, his eyes taking in the view of the wet patch on your panties. the sight alone made him feel like he could bust in his pants, a low growl slipping from in between his gritted teeth.

he wasted no more time, slipping your panties to the side and sliding his thick index fingers in between your folds and up to your clit, spreading your wetness around it. "so fuckin' wet.. guess ya fuck around and find out." he circled around it delicately, watching your body start to tremble in your sleep as your cunt soaked his finger. his raven locks stuck to his forehead as he started to sweat, his erection growing nearly insufferable.

he settled himself onto his stomach as his head fell in between your legs, grinding his cock into the mattress under him as his tongue lapped at your clit. “jus’ a taste.. need you so bad.” he uttered into your clit, his finger reaching forward to push into your sopping wet pussy, your walls gripping it like you needed nothing more than to be filled up by him. he let out a satisfied groan into your clit, his voice sending vibrations through your mound, he pumped his finger in and out as he curled upwards to immediately find your sweet spot.

he sucked the bundle of nerves into his mouth, licking and sucking at your clit like a starved man as his fingers sped up. his free muscular arm reached up to wrap around your thigh, his rough fingers digging into the flesh. he felt the familiar feeling of your cunt fluttering around his fingers, watching you slightly stir in your sleep and whimpering.

“good fuckin’ girl.. that’s it, taking my finger so well baby.” he cooed, adding another finger and stretching you out some more. The sounds of his mouth smacking against your clit mixed with the wet squelching of your pussy making his head feel spinny. the smell of you drove him wild, your juices soaking his chin and dripping onto his hand. “fuck.. jus’ like that.. you’re close aren’t you?” he moaned, watching your climax crash over your sleeping form, your legs closed around his head just how he liked.

he lapped at your clit a few times, gulping down your clear and sticky cum before sitting up to look at you. your eyes fluttered open, your mouth agape as you felt your insides throbbing from the aftershock of your orgasm. you couldn’t help but let out a small whine as your sleepy gaze focused on the blurry image of your cum dripping down his chin and clinging to his fingers.

“t-toji? what are you doing here?” you interrogated, still disoriented from the deep sleep your orgasm pulled you out of. toji grips your thighs, yanking your body down towards him. his body caged your smaller body in under him, a shit eating grin on his face with a tilt of his head. “stupid little slut forgot to lock her door ‘fore she fell asleep.” he snickered, unbuckling his belt as he watched you come back to reality with a smirk gracing on his scarred lips.

he let out a relieved sigh as his pants dragged down his thighs, his cock springing free and smacking his lower abdomen. your mouth watered at the sight, your pussy throbbing all over again while you squirmed. toji gripped your wrists tightly, enough to leave bruises as he pinned you down. “don’t fuckin’ move, hold still for me.” he barked, his voice heavy with demand and arousal as he kept you pinned with ease. “'nd you know the drill pretty girl, eyes on me.” he added, a smug grin resting on his lips as he gripped the base of his cock tightly and stroked it from base to tip a couple times, causing him to shiver from the contact on his neglected dick.

a vein ran up the underside of his cock from the base to the tip, his lip tugging in between his teeth. broken, muffled moans caught into his throat, his eyes fluttering from the way his big veiny hand gripped his own length. he spread the precum leaking from his aching tip down his length, using it as lubricant. the sound becoming more lewd, squelching noises seemingly louder whenever his hand slipped over the tip. after a minute of enjoying himself, he leaned down and pressed the tip to your needy entrance. he pushed the tip in, eliciting a shriek from you as you slammed your eyes shut. he hastily gripped your jaw, pulling it towards his face before laying a sharp smack to your cheek before he pushed in his cock, forcing it all the way in.

“i said, eyes on me, slut.” he husked, his abs constricting as he felt himself bottom out inside of your tight cunt. he pulled almost all the way out, slamming back in and banging against your cervix. you felt like the wind was knocked out of you, jaw falling slack. "hurts toji.. s' sensitive." you mewled, your eyes looking into his needily. you were already sensitive from your last orgasm, the feeling of his cock sliding against your walls mixed with the aching of your cervix enough to draw tears from your eyes thanks to overstimulation.

he only laughed tauntingly, pounding at your insides even harder as he leaned forward and pressed a kiss to the corner of your mouth. “already cryin’ for my cock huh? how fuckin’ pathetic.” he growled, his hips moving relentlessly now as he basked in the way your insides hugged him so perfectly.

he dipped down to lick the salty tears off your cheek sloppily, a trail of his saliva on your cheeks to replace the tears, his hot breath fanning against it. the bottom of his navel slapped into your clit with each thrust, your eyes fighting to stay open as he ravaged you for what you were worth. “t-toji please.. ohhh oh my goddd-” your eyes struggled to stay on him, but you managed. toji snickered, his breathing labored as he continued to bully his cock into your tight cunt. “fuuuck.. i’d say i was proud of you for lookin’ at me so nicely..” he paused his speech, his grunts becoming more frequent as his pace picked up.

“but yer in so much fuckin’ trouble, little girl. making me wait to shove my cock into you all ‘cause you were tired?” he tugged at your jaw, forcing your mouth open before spitting into it with no hesitation. you gulped down his spit, your tears streaming down your face in slight humiliation. toji reached down with his hand that was once pinning you to rub quick coordinated circles to your clit as he felt you clench him impossibly tighter.

“so dirty, so nngghh ha- so dirty. you like being spat on don’t cha?” he mocked harshly, his teeth gritting at how (almost) painfully tight you were wrapping around him. “fuckin' shameful, perfect little pussy grippin' me so tight." he huffed out through moans and gritted teeth. "tell me how much of a dirty little slut you are for me.” he demanded harshly, leaving a soft smack to your cheek as he felt your gummy walls flutter around him.

you immediately gasped, his words nearly enough to throw you over the edge. “y-yes.. i’m a dirty little slut for you.. feels s’ good.. so so good…” you cried out, your words sounding more like babbles, but it sufficed for toji’s standards. he couldn’t help but chuckle at your words, loving how fucked out you were underneath him with his cock bullying into your tight hole.

“a’ight pretty girl, you can go on and cum for me baby.” he permissed, feeling his cum filled balls tighten up the closer he got. "yer lucky i'm even lettin' you for making me wait." he lectured quietly as he screwed his eyes shut to focus on how you cum around his thick cock. with his permission, you finally came undone around him. your slick tight walls pulsing around him and milking his cock for every last drop. you let out a loud shriek, your hands gripping the bed sheets below as your mouth hung open to let pretty little moans of toji’s name fall from your lips.

your cum formed a ring around the base of his cock, dripping down his heavy balls. he let out a grunt of approval, his hand now caressing your cheek in his hand as he approached his high. "atta girl doll, y' feel so fuckin' good cumming on my cock like this."

it wasn’t long before toji followed in your footsteps, his thrusts becoming a lot more sloppy and feverish as he chased his high. "gonna cum, slut. take every last drop, fuckin' cum hungry whore." he took one final thrust, burying himself to the hilt inside of your cunt with the tip of his cock pressed firmly to your cervix as he let out his load. he let out a shaky groan, his tanned skin glistening with sweat above you. his body trembled as he held himself there, small thrusts pumping into your cunt as he rides out his high.

he leaned on his elbow above you, peppering delicate kisses to the skin of your neck and jawline as he regained his breath. “such a good girl, ‘m sorry i came in here and did that. but if you play stupid games, ya get stupid prizes.” he muttered against the skin of your jaw, pulling his cock out of your warmth. a disappointed groan slipped from his lips from the loss of your warmth around him.

“it’s okay toji, i don’t mind.” you reassured him, your body still laying limp as you regained your breath from the intense fuck you just had with the older, larger man. a small smile played on your lips, your eyes fluttering at him in admiration. "course ya don't, you got fucked too good to care." he prodded, letting out an exhale before laying at your side and chuckling

“y'know, it was still real fucken dumb to leave your door unlocked. it's irresponsible.” he warned, a hint of playfulness in his voice as he saw his cum start to seep out of your abused cunt. with no hesitation, he swiped it up on his fingers and pushed it back in.

“now c’mere sweet thing.” he requested, swiping you up in his arms with ease and nestling into your neck. he left a few gentle and affectionate kisses to the sensitive skin, inhaling your sweet scent before he let out a content sigh. "i’ll let ya get your rest properly now.”

#toji x reader #toji smut #toji fushiguro #toji #jjk #jjk x reader #x reader #smut #jjk smut #gojo satoru #geto suguru #jjk toji #toji zenin #anime x reader #jjk gojo #gojo x reader #jjk suguru

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princessbrunette · 5 months ago

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⊹ ᜊ(ᜊ ´ ˘)੭ ♡ … BED CHEM ♡

track seven of the short n’sweet series. pairing: kook!pope x reader. based loosely of the song bed chem by sabrina carpenter. enjoy! ໒꒰՞ ܸ. .ܸ՞꒱ა

you’d heard of love at first sight, but lust at first sight was an experience that hit you like a tonne of bricks in the university library.

the first time you’d had the chance to experience pope heyward in full was when he sat at a booth behind you whilst you were studying. you kind of already knew who he was, and kind of already had always thought he was cute despite knowing very little about him despite the fact he was wealthy and a chemistry major. you’d had the chance to talk to him at a party before, sure — but you didn’t think it was appropriate to bond with a boy with the likes of him whilst you were wearing such a sheer dress. you’d said no more than hi and bye.

“look, dude i’m not sayin’ i’m bad at sex. my girls always cum. all i’m sayin’ is, i feel like i can be better. i don’t know how you do the whole teasing thing. i’m a dude. with dude parts. i get impatient and just wanna go straight to pound town — boom!” his blonde friend rambles, and your ears prick up immediately, tearing your eyes away from your textbook to listen distractedly. it wasn’t your fault— you were ovulating, and plus, popes friend was talking at an alarmingly casual volume. “c’mon bro you take chemistry. don’t you know about the human body n’shit?”

“okay, first of all — what you’re talking about is biology. second of all, i’m trying to study. third of all would you keep your voice down?” you hear him ball something up and toss it in the direction of the blonde and nearly let your giggle slip. you were bored out of your mind and horny, there was no harm in eavesdropping.

“alright alright — but answer me this one thing.” popes pal lowers his voice so naturally you lean back in your booth to listen in. “say i want a girl goin’ crazy. beggin’ for it. what do i gotta do? c’mon pope i know you know.”

“if i give you some pointers will you shut the hell up and let me study?” pope sounds bored, and his nonchalance to the situation makes you flush.

“…yes.”

the darker skinned boy sighs, and you picture him leaning on his elbows, making you work even harder to listen. “okay. put a pillow under her hips. it’s gonna help you hit her gspot a lot easier and she’s gonna be more comfortable which you want. massage her hips when you go down on her and don’t skip out on taking your time down there jj.”

“massage her hips?”

“it opens her up. makes her relax her pelvic floor.”

“alrighty, noted. what else, chief?”

“talk her through it. you know how to do that?”

“damn right i do.” the blonde answers confidently.

“i dread to think what that poor girl has to hear.”

by the end of the conversation, you’re dripping. it’s not your fault — like you said, ovulation can be a real bitch. it gets to the point where you need to get up and walk around before you start humping the study bench, so you decide on strolling over to the water dispenser to refill your bottle that you’d been ravenously sipping down to attempt to quell your growing arousal. you also were feeling curious and wanted to get another look at your crush.

when you walked back with your freshly filled bottle, there he was in all his glory— berating his blonde friend in the hat to simply let him study. god he looked good, expensive. sitting comfortably in the booth in a white jacket, voice smooth and buttery and you couldn’t help but stare, your top set of teeth tugging at your glossy bottom lip. the pair of you lock eyes, but you can’t look away— neither can he. did you look flustered? could he tell you’d been listening? were you clammed up? could he sense the arousal seeping through your panties? you wouldn’t be surprised if he somehow could. he seemed like some sort of sex god.

he was none the wiser, and the rest was history — the boy having secured your phone number before you’d left the library.

after that, the two of you became inseparable. if you weren’t studying together or grabbing food (that he’d refuse to let you pay for) you were on the phone, ranting and raving about the people in your classes or the weird thing your professor said that day. there was chemistry, sure — a bond that you could only see heading towards a relationship. but with all the soft touches, the lingering looks from beneath your lashes, the tension — you were itching to take the next step. you’d desired him carnally from the day you met.

it’s a thursday evening, and pope has an exam the next day. a big one. you’d settled on hanging out via phone call whilst he studied, quickly getting on with your own business instead of getting to be at his side distracting him. it was for the best, and whilst you’d pouted at the promised temporary distance, you knew it was a good idea.

until night falls, and you’re laying on your bed — listening to the scribbling away of his pencil through the line. you sigh, a small smile dusting your face.

“you know, the day we met properly i’d kind of overheard one of your conversations.” he can tell you’re biting back a giggle, and with your joy infectious — he smiles too.

“yeah? did no one ever teach you that it’s rude to eavesdrop?” he teases and you let the giggle free, rolling back over to stare at the ceiling.

“s’not my fault! jj has a loud mouth.” you accuse lightheartedly and he hums in agreement, still scribbling away.

“that he does…” he finishes up what he’s writing before directing his attention back to the conversation. “so what exactly did you overhear?”

you bite your lip, recalling it. “well, it’s not exactly PG…”

his brows perk up in curiosity as his eyes flicker towards your contact image on his screen. “oh? i hope i didnt embarrass myself.”

“no, no not at all… i was intrigued.”

“well don’t leave me hanging.” he truly had no idea.

“you were giving jj…pointers. for the… bedroom.” you relay shyly, suddenly losing all your confidence. simply the memory of that day left your cunt fluttering, already lubricating itself.

“ah. i remember now.” he sounds tense, like he can’t tell how you feel about it. “not exactly an ideal topic for… the library, you know?”

“mhm… anyway, i was pretty impressed.”

you hear him smile, placing his pencil down all together. bingo.

“okay… and what exactly was it that impressed you might i ask?”

you suck in a shaky breath, hoping you don’t come across like some insane gooner all of a sudden. you’d say you’d done a good job at hiding your arousal for him in all the occasions you’d hung out.

“well… all of it. you seem to really know how to make a… make a girl feel good. probably better than i know how to— whatever.” you say the last part quietly, in disbelief that you were being so open. you were thinking with your pussy, you couldn’t help it.

he pauses, and for a split second you feel a wave of embarrassment. but then he speaks.

“at the risk of not sounding very humble, i’d say i have a good success rate.” he sounds so warm, so fond of you — it makes you feel comfortable enough to continue. “in the past—” he adds quickly. “i don’t… talk to any other girls but you now. don’t… don’t wanna…. touch any girl but you now. just to make that clear. you know.”

the tension is so thick and hot that it’s stifling all of a sudden and you’re not even infront of eachother. your mouth moves without your permission.

“how?” you breathe.

“…how?” he repeats, leaning back in his desk chair in his student apartment. it was times like these he was thankful he didn’t have a roommate. it was times like these you were grateful that yours had gone on vacation.

“how would you… touch me?” you’re so quiet that you’re surprised it picks up on the mic.

“uh, well… any way you’d like it. i think it’s important that sexual partners… communicate, and stuff you know? the guy should never be too proud to ask the girl what she likes. so… what do you like?” he licks his lips, staring straight at the wall.

“i… dont really know. i don’t have much experience. not good experience anyway.”

“thats okay—” he coo’s kindly as your voice overlaps once more with—

“i think i like—”

“— oh, no go ahead. what do you like sweetheart?” sweetheart. you squeeze your legs shut at the casual way it rolls off his tongue.

“…i think i’d like you to take the control… be the dominant one i guess. i like feeling…”

“taken care of?” he answers for you and you nod, before realising he can’t see you.

“mhm. yes.”

“well i am pretty confident that i can be that for you. like, one hundred percent confident. can do it just like you want it, pick you up, pull you down, turn you around… all that good stuff. it makes sense.”

you exhale, practically trembling as your legs fall open slightly, unable to stop yourself from trailing a hand down your stomach into your pyjama shorts.

“mhm?”

“yeah. but that stuff comes later, i literally just wanna focus on learning your body first, you know? how to touch you. every pussy is different, not to be crass or anything. i think to answer your question i’d just lay you down and finger you nice n’ slow, figure out the basics. make you feel nice.” he lists it off so… normally. like it’s obvious to him.

you sigh, spreading your juices through your folds and forget to respond for a moment. that is until he says your name and you open your eyes.

“hm?”

“are you touching yourself? to my voice?”

you feel your face get hot, shame creeping up your neck. all you can squeak out is an “i’m sorry.” and he chuckles.

“you have nothing to apologise for. i’m riling you up and it’s not fair but by all means, continue. god i—” he sighs, and you hear him shuffling. what he’s really doing, is reaching down to palm at his erection through his sweatpants— exam long forgotten about. this has all his attention. “—i wanted to be all… respectful i guess. wait until the time was right, but… but i just wanna make you cum. so hard. so many times.” he lets loose a little, reaching down to pull his cock out. it’s then he hears it, that pretty pained whimper whilst you rub yourself— no holding back now.

“i’ve wanted you so bad from the day we first met. but — but wanted to be a good girl. show you i’m more than—”

“i know, and you are. you are. oh my god, screw this exam. i should be there. i’ll tell you what, okay — i’m gonna talk you through this orgasm, but i want you to remember how it feels to cum on your own fingers — ‘cause, well — that’s not gonna be happening anymore. it’s all me now, honey. all me.”

#short n sweet series 🧁#kook!pope #pope heyward prompt

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mlqueen89 · 2 months ago

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Two | Ego

i took the miracle move on drug the effects were temporary (i love you) it's ruining my life

Fortnight by Taylor Swift ft. Post Malone | TTPD |

pairing: jake “hangman” seresin / ofc (top gun: maverick)

rating: 18+ (minors dni)

warnings: smut, mentions of p in v sex, mentions of oral (f receiving).

word count: 9,776

summary: “if it isn’t the consequences of my own actions.” in which ellie has to deal with the consequences of having the best sex ever with an actual pilot who she actually has to work with. A familiar face makes an appearance to guide ellie through politics at miramar.

A/N: guys guys guys, you are giving me liiiiife. the reception to the first chapter has been crazy. lots of jake head canon developing here. essentially, i've decided that watermelon sugar by harry styles is jake coded. for... reasons. my guy is all acts of service.

this one was also beta read by my bestest friend, so this one goes out to jj. love you girl, thanks for reading the smuttiest part of my brain. i also apologize for the amount of taylor swift/pop culture references (srry, not srry). also, the number of videos i watched on F-14s (tomcats) and F-18s (super hornets) is cray.

working my way through the november prompts, slowly but surely! there are a few left, so if you want to request, head on over there.

❥ playlist ♡ masterlist ♡ taglist ♡ previous chapter ♡ next chapter ❥

Ellie groaned deeply, her face dropping to her hands as she slouched over the kitchen island from her perch on the stool.

“I sat on his face, Yan,” Ellie mumbled through her fingers, her voice laced with the mortification of the memory from that afternoon. The way Lieutenant Seresin’s eyes passed over her, undressing her, seeing the mark he’d made on her neck and then coolly, calmly, pretending like he wasn’t put off by her presence. She could feel the heat creeping up her neck until it radiated from her cheeks. “Now I have to work with him.”

Yan, unfazed, was busy bustling around the small kitchen, assembling her version of a “girl dinner,” which currently included an obscene number of jarred olives in a variety of colours, a smattering of mixed Harvest Snaps, Ritz crackers and a chunk of Swiss cheese she didn’t bother slicing. As she pushed herself up on her tip toes to peek into cupboards, her manicured nailed fingers reaching for a box she’d seen near the back of the space, Yan reminded Ellie of the squirrel family that lived under the deck at their old college house.

“I dunno,” Yan replied with a shrug, nonchalant as ever, giving the box she’d retrieved from the back of the cabinet on top of the fridge a shake. “Maybe he’ll forget?”

The remainder of her day at Miramar had been filled with facility tours, and security briefings, introductions to ground crew and the radar teams in the tower—the usual M.O. of any other airfield she’d worked on for the past six years. Routine, smooth, reflexive, comforting in its predictability after her unexpected morning.

To her relief, she didn’t see Lieutenant Seresin again and in part, it was because she hadn’t necessarily been looking for him. Between seeing him again, being caught off-guard, her mind scrambling and having RADM Stark offer her concealer, she’d had her fill of shame and awkward interactions to last the entire week, possibly month.

When, at the end of the day, Tony let her know that he’d be emailing her in the next hour or so about her office space, she was already thinking about how quickly she could scurry off to her car and peel out of the parking lot.

Driving home from North Island was completed in a fugue state, doing everything she could to keep her mind off what would happen from now until whenever her contract was over in a few months and the possibility of her putting in for remote work. Canada, Mexico, Iceland… somewhere, anywhere far away from him.

By the time she tripped through the front door, trudging up the stairs, shoulders sunk low, Ellie was glad Nic wasn’t home. She wasn’t sure she could handle the interrogation surrounding how her first day had gone (terribly) and why she had disappeared from the Halloween party so abruptly last night without saying goodbye. Both discussions would lead to the same, inevitable, infuriatingly handsome, source. Lt. Seresin. A pilot. A mistake. A five-time in one night mistake.

When she’d instead found Yan in the kitchen, scrounging around in the cupboards, Ellie had offloaded her previous night and the resulting day in what felt like a single sigh, a mass exodus of mismatched thoughts and side drabbles. Disaster, social and career ruin the overarching themes.

Ellie lifted her head just enough to scoff in her roommate’s general direction. “Forget? He’s a pilot, it’s highly unlikely. Have you ever met a pilot? Those guys have egos the size of the jets they fly. There’s no way he’s going to just forget without some kind of semi-serious head trauma. Unfortunately.”

Before Yan could respond, mouth opened in what Ellie could only assume would come next, she held up a finger, a footnote to add, “Before you say it: Bradley doesn’t count. He’s a weird… mustachioed outlier.”

Data couldn’t track the trajectory of Rooster. Ellie had tried and failed many a time—just when she thought she had pegged him, he escaped the pigeonhole with a dogfight level of evasive maneuvering. With a lack of data or evidence, she’d been forced to accept that Rooster was just untraceable. He didn’t fit the mold of the pilots she’d met.

“Okay, but hear me out, maybe he will forget without a smack to the dome?” Yan tapped her chin as she glanced down at her plate of smorgasbord, as if considering what was missing. “For all we know, this is his usual modus operandi and you’re just another girl in the long line of hook ups?”

Ellie felt her stomach drop. Long line of hook ups. “Great. That makes me feel so much better.”

Yan popped a few pitted olives into her mouth and tipped her head, gathering herself for a moment before she spoke again. “Let’s have a choose your own adventure moment: do you want friend or therapist version of Yan Like, do you want advice advice or just to vent?”

“Are you going to bill me if I say therapist, Yan’s version?”

“How about we split the difference?” Yan held the absurdly sized chunk of Swiss cheese in a two—handed grip, nibbling at the corner as she leaned across the island. She was never going to get out from under the squirrel family allusion at this rate. “If I was your therapist, I’d say that maybe we should look at how this serves you? What does this embarrassment, feeling it, stewing in it, what does it do for you?”

Ellie considered for a moment, her forehead slowly coming to rest on the cool quartz countertop as if the answers could be found there.

How did the embarrassment of working with a man she’d slept with serve her?

Maybe the root of the mortification was the fact that she couldn’t stop thinking about it, about him. The intrusive thoughts, floating around her brain, still, of the man who had undone her so completely, mapped out her body with his mouth, re-wired her brain through life-altering, transcendent orgasm, one chasing another, each cascading into the next like a line of tumbling dominoes.

Maybe her fluster was tucked behind the idea that he’d dragged sounds from her with his tongue, fingers, filled her in ways she hadn’t realized she’d been empty until he was inside of her, easing his way in as she gasped and moaned. She’d made sounds she could never have imagined making in the presence of another person, sounds she wasn’t even aware she was capable of making.

The shame was most likely rooted in the fact that she had liked it, enjoyed every moment he’d been on her and inside of her. Touching her, playing her like an instrument, tugging at all the strings that moved her. She’d melted at the way he called her sweetheart and darlin’ in that voice of his, drawl rough and husky, while doing the things he did to her. How eager he’d sounded when he’d asked her what she wanted from him and how he’d nearly read her mind and fulfilled her needs without needing to be told.

Ellie could only groan in response, the sound muffled into the countertop as she shifted on her stool, clenching her thighs together tightly as a warmth coiled low in her abdomen.

The embarrassment didn’t serve her, though it did serve to remind her that she had to have her head on straight going forward. This couldn’t happen again, even if it was all she could think about, even if her body was telling her she wanted more. Her control, careful and composed, had to be stronger; it couldn’t happen again—especially not with him, not with a pilot. Maybe if she repeated it enough, hummed it to herself like a mantra, she’d get herself back on the trail leading to the summit that was the culmination of her life’s work.

Lt. Seresin was her Voldemort. He who shall not be named. Her Darth Vader. Her Hans Gruber. She couldn’t have sex with Voldemort again. Couldn’t risk the Resistance and give herself to the Dark Side. Couldn’t let the terrorists take Nakatomi Tower on Christmas.

“It doesn’t.”

“Exactly. I’m not sure what just went through your beautiful noggin’ just now, but next steps: be the badass I know you are. So what? You had a spectacular night—this guy has no idea how lucky he is to tap that.” Ellie wasn’t sure how seriously she would take it if her actual therapist sat across from her and crunched on gherkin pickles, folded between a slice of prosciutto and used tap that to drive home a point. She’d let it slide for Yan.

“Also, don’t think I don’t see it,” Yan pointed with the Harvest Snap olive hybrid in Ellie’s general direction. “I’m being nice and I’m not even going to touch the fact that you had crazy, wild sex with a guy dressed as a pilot considering your no pilots rule.”

“In my, very feeble attempt at self-defense: Who dresses as their actual profession on Halloween?”

“Oh, that’s just Big Dick Energy vibes, El.” Yan smirked, quirking an eyebrow, as if she was waiting for Ellie to confirm if the vibe had basis in reality. When Ellie simply rolled her eyes, Yan continued, “let’s be real though—we’re in San Diego. You could probably throw a stone and hit a minimum of three pilots in a five-foot radius.”

Ellie propped her elbow up on the counter, resting her head in her hand, her eyes scanning the swirled pattern in the quartz to the right of Yan’s paper plate. “So, just like that? I just, what? Duplicate the BDE?”

“More like mirror it. Sometimes that’s all it takes,” Yan nodded, using a Harvest Snap to spear an olive. “I’m not supposed to talk about it, so I won’t, but if I could talk about it, I’d say that I have a client who is an author, who shall remain anonymous, and he uses this crazy, hostage negotiation tactic when he wants to disarm and redirect.”

Hostage negotiation. Great. This is what is had come to.

Yan was right. Ellie couldn’t honestly say she was thinking straight when he’d looked at her with his green eyes and easy grin, the level of confidence with which he carried himself so goddamned attractive. She definitely hadn’t been thinking with the prefrontal cortex part of her brain when he’d touched her waist and leaned in close.

Ellie levelled Yan with a narrowed gaze. “What would friend Yan say?”

“As your friend who has witnessed some spectacular mistakes in your romantic track record, I’d say,” Yan paused for a moment, considering, Ellie thought, on how she might soften the therapist speak, “so what? You hooked up with him. Big deal. You didn’t know he was a real pilot. It was Halloween. You thought, reasonably, that he wasn’t. I’m sure it’ll be fine. It’s not like you have to work directly with him, right?”

“Except I actually do.” Ellie sighed—she'd already thought about it on the drive home, if avoidance was a viable tactic for the next little while. “I’m the one with the new tech, remember? That means seeing him all the time. He’s part of the team they’ve recalled—he’s one of the best the Navy has to offer. He might need to test my tech if I have any hope of getting it off the ground.”

Yan paused, mid bite of her cracker, processing for a moment in silence. “Okay. First—love the pun. Second, yeah, that sucks, but maybe he’s, like, cool? Like, he hasn’t been a complete ass about it yet, right?”

“He pretended like he didn’t even know me,” Ellie muttered, crossing her arms as the memory of his infuriating smugness resurfaced, the way his eyes found the mark he’d made on her like she was his. The way she, for a fraction of a second, let him suck all the air out of the space between them. “Which, I guess is fair, since we didn’t exactly exchange names before....”

“... before he fucked your brains out?” Yan offered, snapping a piece of Ritz cracker off between her teeth, nonchalantly, as if fucked your brains out was a normal, everyday, part of conversations she engaged in.

Ellie balled up a nearby tea towel and threw it at Yan as hard as she could manage, and it fell woefully short on the island between them.

“Okay, so, he’s trying to be professional. That’s not necessarily a bad thing?” Yan turned her back to Ellie for a moment, heading to the fridge to grab the jug of pink lemonade from the fridge before she turned and poured it into a cup that sat on the edge of the sink.

Ellie shook her head as Yan shook the juice jug in her direction. “Yeah, I guess. It’s just—weird? I don’t know how to act around him now.”

“Oh girl, act like it didn’t happen, obviously. We both know you’re the queen of compartmentalizing, right?”

Ellie sighed, sweeping her hair back, unconsciously touching the concealer hidden hickey, feather-light. “This is going to be a bit harder though. I just wasn’t planning on hooking up with someone I’d have to see every day.”

Yan propped her elbows up on the counter across from Ellie before she carefully slid the plate of crackers, olives, cheese and mini pickles toward her with a grin. “Well, welcome to what we true believers call the Frequency Illusion. You’ll see him for as long as he’s front and center in your noodle. Simple explanation. Either that or you have some karmic balance to restore.”

Ellie sighed, a sigh that sounded more like a drawn-out lament. “You make it sound like a go around kicking puppies.”

“As my grandma used to say—God rest her soul—” Yan continued, hearing Ellie’s comment about karmic retribution, and traced a cross over her body, turning her eyes upward for a moment before she mocked pouring one out, “pussy rules the world. You set the tone. Own it. Be confident. If someone is going to squirm, let it be him. You’re holding all the cards.”

“Set the tone?” Ellie repeated, slowly, considering. She didn’t bother to ask why Yan’s grandma, an unassuming small-statured, Filipino lady, obsessed with backgammon and finding the freshest cinnamon scones up until the very day of her passing, would have come to such a firm stance on pussy and its power level.

“Yeah,” Yan was around the island now, fluffing Ellie’s hair and fixing the collar on her blazer, “you’re the fucking gorgeous, brainy radar engineer. He’s just some dude who got lucky on Halloween.”

Ellie shrugged, avoiding eye—contact with Yan. “Maybe you’re right.”

Yan leaned forward to tap Ellie on the tip of the nose, evidently satisfied with herself. “I’m always right, girly pop.”

“Oh, is that right, huh?” Ellie swatted at Yan as she danced away, skip-hopping over to the fridge.

Yan grinned, piling more olives onto her plate. “You know it. Now, eat some olives and get your game face on. Tomorrow’s another day, and you’re not letting some hotshot flyboy get the better of you. Even if he’s gorgeous and a generous partner.”

Ellie shook her head, but she picked up a cracker as Yan tapped the plate before migrating to the living room. “God, this is a mess.”

“Eh,” Yan shrugged, dropping to the couch and patting the empty spot beside her as she nestled under an oversized blanket. “Messy is more fun. Let’s watch Love is Blind Brazil, there’s apparently this super unhinged guy, Evandro who picked this girl, Ariela, who clearly isn’t over her ex—”

“Speaking of,” Ellie crossed the room and dropped to the couch beside Yan, tugging some of the blanket over for herself. “What happened to Frankenstein?”

“Oh, turns out he couldn’t keep it together,” Yan didn’t bother to look at Ellie, waving the remote at the TV as she scrolled, her lips quirked up in the corners into a smirk, “needed someone with a bit more heart.”

“You’re so ridiculous.”

Naval Air Station Lemoore, California - 2004

Even after hours, the Californian sun sinking low on the horizon, Lemoore Naval Air Base was alive with a low hum of activity. F-14 Tomcats rested, wings folded in against their bodies, on the tarmac like sleeping giants, the lights from nearby hangars casting long shadows across the hot asphalt.

She’d woken from another nightmare. It was always the same, a nightmare in which her dad didn’t come home, his plane screaming through the perfect blue sky one moment and then whistling to the surface of the azure water below, no ejection seat, no parachute. Just churning waves as they swallowed the body of the grey metal, silently, until there was nothing left.

It was why, at 8:45 PM on a hot fall Californian evening, she found herself in her Justice League pajamas, shoes tied haphazardly, sneaking around the base.

“Dad, we’re not supposed to be here,” Ellie whispered, her eyes wide as she hustled across the airfield, her small, seven-year-old hand clenching her father’s as he snuck from corner to corner, aircraft to aircraft. Stealth mode he’d called it. In her chest, Ellie’s heart pounded, the excitement mixed with the mischievousness of it all.

Rick “Hollywood” Neven grinned, a roguish glint in his eyes as he glanced down at her by his side. “Don’t worry, kiddo. I know the boss.” He offered her a sly wink and Ellie could feel the anxiety ebb away slightly. She trusted him, always had. He was her dad, after all—the coolest person in the world.

Slipping through the open hangar bay doors, Ellie’s eyes focused on the jet parked up in the center of the building. The one she’d only ever seen from a distance, her fingers laced through the chain link fence, her mom at her back, as the engines fired to life and her dad took to the air. Now, larger than life, it was here, looming large over her tiny frame. Ellie’s breath caught as her dad led her closer, the heavy scent of engine oil and metal filling her nostrils. Ground crew engineers milled about, running through their checks, but none of them stopped or questioned her dad. He was a legend here, and everyone knew it. Everyone knew him.

Rick nodded at one of the crew members, and they moved aside as he led Ellie closer to the jet. “Come on, squirt,” he whispered, lifting her up to stand on a ladder beside the plane’s body. “Want to see where the magic happens?”

Ellie’s eyes widened as she gazed at the jet’s gleaming surface. “This is your plane?”

“All mine,” he said proudly, patting the side of the jet, his hand passing over his name Lt. Rick Neven and call sign, Hollywood, painted on the side just below the seam where the bonnet would connect. On the body, beside the rear seat, Lt. Leonard Wolfe, Wolfman was painted in white, his RIO.

As she stared, wide-eyed, taking it all in, he pointed to different parts, explaining each with ease of someone who had lived and breathed this life for years, someone who could identify this machine as an extension of his own body. “That’s the engine, and those are the intakes. That right there is the radar, it’s here, in the nose too—probably the most important thing in the whole bird.”

Ellie’s eyes scanned the instruments inside the cockpit, levers and buttons, throttles and sparkplugs. “Why?” Her face scrunched in thought.

“Because without it, I wouldn’t know what’s coming my way. You see, when you’re flying up there, things happen fast. You need to know everything around you—what’s out there, who’s out there.” He turned, giving her a proud smile. “That’s where a good radar tech comes in. But the best radar tech?” He winked. “They’re sitting right behind the pilot.”

“Like the RIO?” she asked, her voice full of wonder, eyes trained on her godfather’s name.

“Exactly.” He gestured for her to step up higher, holding her waist as he lifted her into the cockpit. Ellie settled her tiny frame into the seat, her feet barely skimming the pedals in the footwell. Reaching back into the rear seat, he grabbed his helmet, the one adorned with his call sign, and the “lady butt” as Ellie called it. Carefully, he placed it on her head. The weight of it pressed on her neck, far too big, but she didn’t care. The weight of it made her feel important—like she was a part of something bigger, like she was in the cockpit with her dad.

“Dad…” Ellie began, her voice small and muffled from under the oversized helmet as she pushed it up so she could see him. “What’s it like? Flying up there?”

Her dad leaned against the side of the F-14, his gaze drifting out toward the open hangar doors where the night sky stretched endlessly above. “It’s like…freedom. Like nothing else in the world matters. Just you, the jet, and the sky. And when you’re up there, you feel like you can do anything.”

Ellie’s eyes sparkled as she imagined, endless skies, horizon boundless, freedom. “Maybe I can be your RIO one day?”

Her dad chuckled and Ellie could feel her heart swell, the thought of being here with her dad in his favourite place. He reached out and gently tapped the helmet on her head. “You’re already halfway there, kid. One day, you’ll be up there with me. I’ll be the one flying, and you’ll be the one keeping me safe, making sure we’re on the right track.”

Ellie smiled so wide her cheeks hurt. “Promise?”

“I promise,” he said softly, his eyes locking onto hers, and Ellie could feel the pride growing in her, the thought of following in her dad’s footsteps both thrilling and nerve wracking. “Just don’t tell your uncle Wolfman. You’ll be putting him out of a job and I don’t know if the Navy is ready for two Nevens up there.”

For a moment, it was just them in that cockpit, the noise of the hangar fading into the background as her dad told her to pull back on this throttle and showed her where the ejection handles were. Ellie could feel the importance of it, the way her dad talked about all of it. If her dad said she could do it, then she could—her hero, strong, invincible. Maybe she could be his RIO one day.

He grinned and grabbed the straps of the helmet, giving it a loving shake. “Alright, kiddo. You got school tomorrow. Let’s get out of here before someone catches us.”

Ellie laughed as he lifted her out of the cockpit and set her down, but as they walked out of the hangar, her hand still in his, she couldn’t help but glance back at the jet.

“I think we just found your call sign, huh?” Her dad hummed as they stepped out into the night air, the sun now gone from the sky, replaced by the moon glow of a clear night. “Eleanor Rio Neven.”

Ellie glanced up at him, her gap-toothed grin, wide. “I like it.”

“Rio it is then. Hollywood and Rio.”

One day, she thought. One day she’d earn that call sign.

Ellie glanced at the email again to stick the office assignment in the forefront of her mind, standing in front of her open car trunk, before she locked her phone and tucked it into the back pocket of her pressed pants. She was thankful she wasn’t Navy; she knew her strengths fashion wise, and it wasn’t the khaki tan colour of the service uniforms. Civilian contractors had the best of both worlds.

Grabbing the heavy box of her things, Ellie dragged it from the trunk and hefted it, balancing it on her hip as she reached for the close trunk button.

“Comm Center 11,” the security officer barely suppressed a chuckle as Ellie used the ledge in front of the glass to hold the box while she fished out her pass, “that’s clear across the airfield from here. You’ll have to take the perimeter; they’ll be running drills at this time. Pattern’s full.”

“Thanks.” Ellie nodded, taking a moment to clip her pass to the waist of her pants before she lifted the box and used her hip to open the door onto the base.

Shifting the weight of the box, Ellie tipped her chin as she passed a few officers and a few of the ground crew she half-recognized from the myriad of tours yesterday. Her things weren’t heavy individually—a few office supplies, models of the tech, schematics, a monitor, her MacBook—but stacked awkwardly, they made a clumsy, unbalanced load in the flimsy box with the caved in corners, reinforced with layers of packing tape.

The morning sun was already intense, gleaming off the pavement so she had to squint as she moved forward, all her concentration on not dropping the box as she felt the cardboard bow under the shifting weight of her belongings, the occasional silence between the sound of jet engines and shouting staff filled by the steady clicking of her heels.

“Need a hand?”

The voice was unmistakable, easy, with a hint of banter around the edges, the barely concealed smugness cutting through the noise of the airfield. Ellie knew who it belonged almost immediately, the feeling of recognition hitting her square in the gut before she turned.

Hangman.

Taking a deep, steadying breath, Ellie set her shoulders, adjusting her grip on the unwieldy box. Set the tone, she reminded herself, hearing Yan’s voice echo in the back of her mind. She had to hold her ground.

Turning, her eyes landed on him immediately. He was standing just a few feet away, arms crossed casually over his chest, the khaki tan of his service khakis was definitely doing something for him, something dangerous for his sharp features and easy confidence. He knew he looked good. She could feel herself bristle slightly, caught off-guard by how cool and collected he looked, his lips quirked into a lazy grin, almost infuriatingly amused as he took her in. It felt tailor made to annoy the living hell out of her at this specific moment. He looked ready to swoop in if she so much as tipped the box the wrong way and she wasn’t sure if that grated on her nerves, or if it was something else entirely.

“No, I don’t need a hand, Lieutenant Seresin,” she replied firmly, adjusting her grip on the box and her resolve. She turned around again resolutely ignoring him and starting off in her original direction, the corner of the already flimsy cardboard buckling, her belongings shifting inside as the box threatened to give way any moment.

Sure enough, she heard his footsteps fall into pace beside her, an easy saunter as if he had all the time in the world. “You’re a civilian contractor; you can take it easy with the Lieutenant. You can call me Jake…” he began casually, before his voice dropped just enough to add weight to his next words, “since we’ve already been… acquainted.”

Ellie’s jaw tightened, her pace slowing until she came to a stop. The box crumpled further under her suddenly tightened grip, and she thought she heard the tape coming away from the bottom of the box. She turned slightly, just enough to level him with a glare, all heat and warning. “I’m aware of what happened. That was… before.” Before she knew he was a real pilot. Before she knew cocky and smug were his default personality traits. “This is work, not—”

“Not what?” he interrupted carefully, the mischievous glint in his eye almost twinkling now. “Not two, consenting adults who had a good time and now coincidentally find themselves working on the same base?”

Great. So he hadn’t recently happened upon a semi-serious, short-term memory wiping head injury. How unlucky for her. She’d have to work on quashing the butterflies causing the stupid feelings in her stomach currently. The ones that told her she liked looking at his aggravating, annoying, idiotic, handsome face and hearing the charming southern drawl in his words. What was it that Yan had said? Another girl in a long line of hook ups?

Ellie felt her face heat and not from the sun continuing to beat down. “That’s exactly what this is, actually. Coincidence. That’s it,” Ellie lifted her chin, defiant in the face of his easy charm, her voice dipping low as a crew member zipped past them in a golf cart. “One night. A one-time thing.”

This time, he broke into a wry grin, but he didn’t speak, and Ellie felt as if he was waiting for her to continue, so she did.

“Listen, I don’t know what your angle is, but whatever you think happened between us? It won’t happen again.” She kept her gaze trained on him, looking for the moment it might sink in. “I’m here to do a job, that’s it.” Ellie turned again, squinting against the sun as she continued on her way, her dramatic exit. She’d taken three full strides, the box betraying her confident pace, folding in as a piece of lose tape flapped in the breeze and stuck to her hand as her belongings rolled around, loose at the bottom, before Jake was at her side again.

His eyebrow quirked up, but he didn’t look fazed. Amused, that was the more fitting word, Ellie thought. He looked entertained. By her struggle, by her refusal of his offer for help, even now as the box pitched, weight shifting oddly as the things inside moved around, uncontrolled. “My angle?” He repeated, almost as if he couldn’t believe it wasn’t butter. His tone was teasing and light. “So, you think I have an angle? You been doing a lot of thinking about me then, sweetheart?”

Ellie rolled her eyes hard, and she picked up her pace. She pointedly ignored his question about her extracurricular thoughts, which definitely included thoughts of him despite her better judgement, but he didn’t need the confirmation. “I don’t know what it is, yet” the box pitched, and Hangman’s hand moved to right it, but Ellie angled it away from him, the sound of her monitor being smacked by the decorative arc reactor paperweight sending her stomach into a tip. “But yes, I’m sure you have one.”

Firmly, Ellie pushed down the memory of Halloween. The chemistry between them had been a wildfire, quick, easy, starting as something small, possibly insignificant, and then grew unexpectedly, fast, all-consuming, searing, white hot, uncontrollable, unpredictable. It was only spoiled by seeing him again and realizing that he had been telling her the whole truth and nothing but the truth the entire time. He was a pilot. A Lieutenant. A pilot just like every other pilot she’d ever met. Cocky, self-assured, overly confident, reckless. It left a bitter taste in her mouth. “Whatever you’re thinking, do me a favour—don’t. You’re not fooling me.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” He responded, smirking as he watched her wrestle with the box each step of the way. Part of her appreciated that he let her, liked that he respected that she’d said no and turned down his help.

Before she could deflect, Ellie felt her heel catch just enough on an uneven bit of pavement, and the box, already unbalanced, began to teeter forward, the weight of the shifting contents making it more difficult to recover as she simultaneously tried to save her things and steady herself. Instinctively, she reached out to steady it, but Jake’s hand shot out, steadying her with one hand on her elbow and the other catching the box. He was good… really good.

“Careful there,” he said softly, all hints of ribbing gone, his eyes locked on hers. “It’d be a shame if all that attitude ended up in a broken ankle.”

Ellie felt a flush of frustration and something else she wasn’t willing to name, his touch igniting something in her she had to fight to press down again. Stiffening against his grasp, she quickly steadied herself and once she was sure the box was as balanced as she could get it, he carefully let go. In the wake of his skin on hers, she felt a coolness and part of her missed the contact.

“I can handle myself, thank you” she murmured, but there was less bite. She left no room for him to question her assertation as she straightened herself to stand taller. Looking him dead in the eye was a feat, all six feet of him towering over her, even with the added height of her heels.

“Never said you couldn’t.” He stepped back, raising his hands in mock surrender, but the smug look didn’t fade. “But just so we’re clear, if you ever need a hand, I’m around. For whatever. Work-related, of course.”

Ellie didn’t answer, just tightened her grip on the box, ignoring the way her heart had quickened in that split second of closeness, his hand on her arm a beat longer than necessary after she steadied herself. She turned and continued toward her office, keeping her chin high and pretending she couldn’t feel Jake’s eyes on her.

As she walked away, she heard him call out, “See you around, Ace.”

“303,” Ellie murmured, clicking past the numbered doors, closed and plated with names that weren’t hers. “304,” she blew out a huff of air as her eyes flicked to the next door.

She’d broken out into a bit of a sweat by the time she’d made it to Comms building 11, her calves aching. Now she knew why that security officer had laughed at the sight of her, the sad box of things in her grip already failing. Between the pace she’d kept up, a speed between confident stride and hectic hustle to get away from the man she’d been trying to avoid, and the distance between the parking lot and here, she’d hit her workout goal for the entire week.

“305.”

Rigby, E. Ellie glanced at the nameplate secured to the door and used her elbow to press down on the paddle handle, maneuvering expertly to use her hip to wedge the port open when she heard the click of the latch releasing.

Turning into the space, Ellie paused for a moment, glancing back at the nameplate on the door for half a second longer when she took in the sheer size of the office. This had to be some kind of mistake, civilian contractors didn’t get windows, especially not eastern facing windows.

The nameplate stuck to the door still said her name. The number above the port hadn’t changed. This was 305 and that was her name on the door.

Stepping further inside, Ellie kicked the door closed behind herself, only registering that another person was in the room when they spoke.

“Hey, Rio.”

The call sign hit her, broadside, and drew her eyes immediately to the source.

The man who leaned against the corner of the window ledge on the other side of the room, arms folded across his chest, was silhouetted against the bright morning light streaming in. Though his face had changed, laugh lines deepened around his eyes, the crease between his brow mostly cemented, likely exacerbated by all the young, hot shot pilots he’d watched breeze through Miramar over the years, she would recognize him anywhere.

Captain Pete Mitchell. Call sign: Maverick.

Ellie smirked as he stepped forward, taking the box from her without hesitation and sliding it onto the edge of the small coffee table, situated in front of the quaint sitting area which included a couch and an armchair. Free from the weight of the box, Ellie took a deep breath and, hands on hips, surveyed the space. “I think they made a mistake, Mav. This has to be your office. Way too big to be a civilian contractor’s, that’s for sure.”

Maverick chuckled and Ellie could see the younger version of the man she’d met years ago behind the softened angles of his face. She guessed, in his eyes, she looked a lot different from the kid running around the airfield, causing trouble, getting in the way, herself. “Pulled a few strings. Anything for Hollywood’s kid.”

She met his wry grin with a smirk of her own, a flash of gratitude filling her with a sense of the calm of familiarity, but she shook her head with a laugh. “Well, thanks for the royal treatment, but I think it’s a bit much.” Ellie gestured to the large space, the window behind Mav looking out onto the airfield, the grand mahogany desk waiting for a touch of personalization, an expanse of empty bookshelves behind it and the sitting area to her right.

Her “office” at the base in Turkey had been little more than a space between two filing cabinets, open to the coffee station, water cooler and any Air Force pilot who thought she looked unassuming or unaware. She’d accepted that space as workable for over a year. This, by comparison, was at least seventeen steps up. For one, there was a door. “I was half expecting a supply closet, to be honest. Somewhere with more dust and a lot less… light.”

Maverick closed the space between them, pulling her into a quick hug before he stepped back to really take her in, his hands framing her shoulders. “How’re you doing, kid? How’s Miramar treating you so far? Wouldn’t expect it’s anything Rio couldn’t handle.”

“Rio,” Ellie tested out the old call sign, the second time she’d heard it from Mav in such a short time, a soft smile pulling up the corner of her lips slightly, “haven’t heard that one in a long time. I’m good.”

She’d leave out the footnotes that included Hangman, or any possible complications that were attached to him for now. Instead, Ellie took a moment to look at Maverick, she hadn’t been expecting him to be here, hadn’t expected to feel the comfort in the presence of his easy nature. Seeing him settled the anxiety simmering beneath the surface, if only just a little bit. “So, they called you in to keep tabs on me, huh?”

“Something like that.” A knowing look crossed his face, a smirk, the look of the old Maverick Ellie had known for the majority of her life. Cocky, self-assured, non-conformist, Maverick was the typical archetype of a pilot, at least every one that Ellie had ever encountered. “I figured I’d be a friendlier face than Admiral Simpson. Someone to get you started. I know Miramar’s not the… smoothest place to transition into.”

Admiral Simpson. Stuffy, hard-lined, hard-nosed, Admiral Simpson. The same Admiral Simpson that had watch-checked and foot-tapped his way through her presentation the other day. The same Admiral she couldn’t help but feel would sideline her project if it meant delaying a mission for even half a minute. On the other hand, there was RADM Stark—welcoming and excited, and yet, there was something unreadable about her. Something that Ellie wasn’t sure she could trust behind the glad to have more estrogen in the room facade.

There was a reason she had a reputation as someone to impress, there was a reason she was thriving in the man-made, old boys club that was the Navy.

Ellie made a face, and Maverick simply pressed his lips into a thin line and raised his eyebrows quietly. Maverick understood—he almost always did, especially when it came to following protocol, or rather, breaking protocol. Maverick hadn’t ever been any Admiral’s favourite pilot—especially not Admiral Benjamin, even if his daughter, Penny, thought differently. If anyone could help her navigate the difficult politics of Admirals and strict rules of engagement, it was Maverick. Maverick who, somehow, hadn’t been dishonourably discharged… yet.

There was no doubt in her mind she would be thankful to have Maverick and his rule-bending in her corner as the go-between.

“Smooth is overrated,” Ellie scoffed, shrugging. “I’m here to work—maybe make a few of you Navy boys cry in the process, if I’m lucky.”

Maverick’s laugh was sudden and loud, genuine, the grin on his face wide.

“Good,” he nodded, approvingly, patting her arm. “Well, in the spirit of smooth in the context of work, I’ve got some updates from the Admirals. Did you want to—” Maverick nodded toward the desk, and it took Ellie a moment to understand what he was suggesting, lost in the soft, blurred edges of nostalgia.

“Yeah, of course. Better to just dive into the deep end with this, I guess.”

Ellie rummaged for a second and dug her MacBook from the box, doing her best to ignore that there was a fresh dent in the lid as she swept over to the desk and Maverick settled in on the other side.

“So I’ve had a chance to go over your reports and the preliminary data from the prototype testing on base in Turkey,” Mav started, his expression unreadable, though his posture suggested a relaxed, nonchalant approach. She supposed this was the most professional he would get with her. “It’s really impressive, Ellie. Your dad, he mentioned you were top of the game, he didn’t mention that you were running circles around the rest of us.”

“I mean—” Ellie started, she kept her eyes on the screen of her laptop as it started up, “it’s all still relatively untested….”

She pointedly ignored Mav’s mention of her dad. Hollywood wasn’t exactly a subject she wanted to touch on right now. Especially not with Maverick. She knew where it would lead.

“Still. Must be something promising to get them to pull you here from halfway across the world.” Mav didn’t push the topic further as she saw him cross his legs, ankle on knee, in her peripheral. “It’s going to make a big difference to a lot of people if we can get it off the ground. I’m putting my weight behind this one, Rio—that counts for something. At least the Admirals think so.”

“I hope so.” Ellie straightened herself in her chair, MacBook finally at the ready, despite a few broken pixels in the top left corner of the screen. “How do we tackle this then? Do I want to know what kind of resources they’re allocating for this?”

Maverick paused for a moment, his hands passing over the armrests before folding his hands. “Good news or bad news?”

“You know me, Mav—news is news.”

“Well, they’re giving us pilots and significant testing time. They’ve put me on the testing schedules too, so you’ll be seeing a lot of me. We’ll run this as seamlessly as possible and get you the data you need to make this a reality.” Maverick’s fingers drummed on his knee, casual, calm.

“Okay, that sounds like the good news to me….” Ellie cautiously made notes, her eyes returning to Mav as if she expected the other shoe to drop at any moment. So far, these were all workable resources. “I’ll get Records to pull the pilot files—”

“No need, I’ve got them here.” Maverick reached to the chair beside him before sliding a folio across the desk toward her, thick with dossiers. “Fifteen pilots. They’re the best the Navy has to offer. All Top Gun graduates, all recalled for the current mission training. They’re giving us four of our choosing.”

Ellie shrugged, her hand resting on the top of the stack of files, her thumb flipping through the first few tabs with call signs. Bob, Coyote, Duke, she nodded slowly, processing. “Well, to be honest, I was expecting far less—”

“We have to run the testing of your tech alongside the mission training. They’re giving us two and a half months.” Maverick’s words hung in the air for a long moment, a moment in which Ellie’s eyes snapped to his and she searched for the lie there she knew she wouldn’t find. Maverick didn’t lie, he wasn’t the type.

And there it was: the other shoe.

Two and a half months. The initial research alone had taken years. Years of algorithm building, years of theoretical practice, years of begging for funding. Hell, the prototype alone had taken a year to create in a lab with her close oversight. Two and a half months was a drop in the ocean, a near impossibility. This was an out of the frying pan and into the heat situation if Ellie had ever seen one. “No pressure, right?”

“RADM Stark is in our corner for now—Admiral Simpson has made it clear he’ll recommend moving forward with the mission with or without your tech,” Maverick didn’t sugar coat it and Ellie appreciated that about him—it wasn’t in his nature to soften the blow. “I think you and I would both prefer that it’s with. The more of these pilots we can bring home, the better.”

Ellie glanced at the stack of files again, folded in the larger tan manila, and nodded, taking a deep breath. “Okay then, deep ending this.”

“Pick your top candidates based on the needs of the tech and the testing. I’m looking forward to reading your report.” Maverick tapped the corner of the desk, standing before shoving his hands in the pockets of his leather jacket. “Let’s say my office. Tomorrow morning, 0800 sharp. Bring coffee.”

“Careful Mav,” Ellie tutted, her eyebrow raised in a teasing way as she looked up at him over the top of her computer screen, “that sounds an awful lot like protocol. You’ve got a reputation for throwing out the rulebook to uphold around here.”

Maverick waved her off as he headed for the door and Ellie watched him pause for just a moment, halfway out, his hand on the knob. “This isn’t exactly going to be a walk in the park, kid. But if there’s anyone who can pull this off, it’s you. Whether the name on the door is Neven or not—” Mav’s knuckles rapped against the solid wood, just under the name plate displaying her mother’s maiden name, “—the Nevens have a way of making things happen. You’re where you’re meant to be.”

“Thanks.”

Maverick offered her a small smile, cleared his throat and then stepped out of the door. “Oh, Ellie?” Maverick’s head was back through the door, his finger pointing to the shelving behind her. “I brought you a little office warming gift.”

Ellie quickly found the small potted fern, the decorative pot it sat in painted with Be-LEAF in Yourself in neat block lettering. Ellie lifted the pot, turning with a raised eyebrow, displaying the saying.

“Penny picked it out.” Mav shrugged, as if he himself were above the plant pun. When Ellie’s gaze didn’t shift, Mav waved a hand and retreated again. “0800 sharp, Rio. Two sugars, no dairy.”

With a dry chuckle, Ellie turned back to the shelf, her eyes quickly finding something else where the pot had been, hidden.

The photo in the frame was slightly faded, but the energy captured within the image felt timeless. It was a group shot, clearly taken at Miramar a lifetime ago, the California sun bright overhead, casting shadows across the tarmac where the four men stood, exuding effortless swagger. The aura of young pilots in their prime.

Maverick was front and center, his signature aviators reflecting a blurred image of the photo taker, a familiar cocky grin stretching across his face. His flight suit was unzipped at the top, revealing the white T-shirt underneath. To his right, Ellie’s eyes focused on her dad. His posture, shoulders relaxed, mirrored Maverick’s, his smile easy but sharp, his trademark confidence that matched his call sign.

Next to him, Wolfman, her dad’s RIO, his stance a little more casual but no less self-assured. He had an arm slung around Hollywood’s shoulder; their camaraderie apparent even through the static image. His grin was wide and mischievous, like he had just cracked a joke that made Hollywood laugh. Wolfman was always the one for jokes—always inappropriate, never failing to make her dad laugh.

On the far left, slightly more composed but no less iconic, stood Iceman. His jaw was set, his aviators pushed up into his blond hair as he looked at the camera with a subtle smirk. Even in the informal setting, he carried himself with the unshakable confidence of someone who knew he was the best.

The four of them stood against the backdrop of an F-14 Tomcat, the jet’s sleek frame gleaming in the sunlight.

It was a snapshot of a time when they were young, fearless, and seemingly invincible—a moment frozen in time, untouched by the years and the weight of everything that would come after. In the reflection of the glass, Ellie could just make out her own face as she refocused, her eyes soft and her brow pulled together.

Rolling her eyes, Ellie shook herself out of her own thoughts, scoffing as she snapped the picture face down, its support leg sticking up like that of a dead bug.

If she wanted to survive here, if she had any hope of making a difference, she would need to keep her head on straight. No more distractions.

“You’re going to have to do a lot better than that if you want to leave here with something other than lint in your pockets, Bradshaw.”

Jake grabbed the triangle and racked the balls as Rooster groaned, the wad of bills in the fold that came out of his pocket thinner than it had been at the beginning of the evening. He thumbed out another twenty and placed it on top of the growing pile of cash sitting on the edge of the table before he took a swig of beer. “Keep taking my money, Hangman and you’ll have to tell Nic why I can’t take her out on Friday.”

“Oh, you want me to tell your girl her boyfriend can’t handle his balls?” Hangman smirked, shifting the triangle up to the foot spot on the table before carefully removing the rack. “You know, I’d be real happy to do that, Rooster.” Grabbing his cue, Jake nodded across the table, “how ’bout I let you break first then, give you a head start.”

As Rooster leaned over the table to line up the break, Jake grabbed his beer, leaning up against the wall. The late-day sun streamed in through the windows of the Hard Deck, casting long shadows across the scuffed hardwood, the warm glow of golden hour adding a certain charm to the scrappy, Navy watering hole. It was routine by now, mission training, the Hard Deck, hustling pool for a little extra spending money, embarrassing Rooster who always seemed eager to try to prove he was better than Jake at the game. Wash, rinse, repeat. Steady pace for a Tuesday night. But tonight, Jake’s mind wasn’t on the pool game, or the growing pile of Rooster’s cash.

Instead, it was occupied by thoughts of a particular Radar Tech who had, in two short days, carved out a space in his head: Eleanor Rigby. That surprised Jake—surprised him in ways that took the routine out of his usual one-night M.O.

After he’d seen her that morning, struggling with the box, almost comically, and she refused his help outright, the end of the day had come quickly. Quicker than Jake had anticipated. Between the packed mission training and the maneuver refreshers, his head had been on a swivel, his eyes peeled, but he hadn’t managed to catch her again.

The sharp crack of the cue ball breaking and scattering the striped and solids, pulled Jake’s focus back to the game. Rooster managed to sink one solid, smirking as he stepped back to find himself for another viable shot.

“Nice shot, Bradshaw,” Jake drawled, his eyes twinkling as he set down his bottle on the edge of a nearby high-top table. “I think this might be the first time you’ve hit something clean all week.”

Rooster’s breathy laugh sounded for just a moment, his eyes sizing up the next shot. “Just wait, Bagman,” Rooster murmured, leaning over to line up his cue again. “By the time I’m done, you’ll be asking me for a loan.”

“Bold for someone down to their last twenty.” Jake smirked, chalking his own cue. He waited for Rooster to take his shot—missing a corner pocket by a hairsbreadth—before stepping in to size up the table, tutting. “Might have to start playing some tunes for tips,” he nodded over to the piano in the corner.

They rotated between trading teasing banter and goading remarks for a moment before Jake’s inquiring mind got the better of him, swimming with thoughts of her face, the way she looked at him within the new frame that existed outside of their Halloween encounter.

“So,” Jake started, casually, nonchalant, as he chose his next shot, Rooster having missed his solid, and bent to take aim, lining up a striped ball with the corner pocket. “We have a new radar tech or something—Rigby?” Jake played dumb, played disinterested, acted as if he didn’t know her name, pretended he didn’t like the way the mark his mouth had left on her neck stuck out in sharp contrast to her put together, professional look the other day.

As he looked up from under his lashes, Jake could see Rooster pause mid-sip of his beer, eyebrow raised. “Rigsy? Radar Tech, Engineer I think the proper term is. She’s Nic’s best friend. Her roommate now too, actually.” Rooster set his beer down carefully, “Why? What’s your angle?”

Rigsy. So Rooster knew her outside of work. Jake carefully stored the information, his eyes never leaving the cue ball and the line of aim with the striped ball. “No angle,” he replied evenly, taking the shot and sinking the striped ball and another in its path with ease. “Just curious. Seems like she’s got the brass wrapped around her finger already.”

“That’s because she’s good at what she does,” Rooster said, stepping away to the bar and grabbing two more bottles of beer before he returned to the table. “Smart, like, real smart. No nonsense, she won’t put up with any crap. Not the usual type you’d chase, though,”

Jake took the shot, and the ball ricocheted off the pocket point in a way he hadn’t expected, missing the striped ball he’d lined up with that pocket, wide. Straightening, he chuckled, leaning against his cue stick, stepping back for Rooster’s turn. “Who says I’m chasin’, Bradshaw?”

Rooster’s response was a snort as he stepped up to the table. “Sure, man, whatever you say,” he glanced up at Jake, a knowing look crossing his face, eyes incredulous, eyebrow peaked. “You don’t exactly have a reputation for curiosity without motive, Seresin.”

Jake smirked, but didn’t respond, moving in to take another shot instead when Rooster missed his second shot and Jake sunk two more stripes in quick succession. He felt Rooster’s gaze lingering, and despite trying to play it cool, he couldn’t shake the curiosity that had been brewing since he’d seen her on Halloween. More so since seeing her here, at Miramar again, of all places. When she’d let him come back to her place and he’d fucked her until her knees shook, he hadn’t expected to see her again. Now, now he thought about what it would have been like if she’d known his name then, what it would sound like for her to moan it, beg him for more. It was enough to drive him dangerously close to mad.

Jake missed the next shot, his mind hazed with the thought. Stepping back, he folded his arms across his chest and tried to act uninterested. “Say I’m curious for… curiosity’s sake: what’s her deal? Anything I should know?”

“Oh shit—you really don’t know…” Rooster raised an eyebrow, taking a deep swig of his beer, studying the label as he tried to contain his smirk, before replying. “You don’t know who her old man is, do you?”

Jake froze slightly at that, his brow furrowed, eyes narrowed at the pilot across the table from him. “Her old man?”

Rooster chuckled and shook his head, his tone low as he tapped the cue stick on the floor. “Rick Neven. Hollywood. Shot down in combat on a mission over the Gulf. Made sure his WSO got out first and ejected too late just above hard deck. Broke his back in three places. Docs said it was nothing short of a miracle he was alive, but that he’d never walk again.”

Jake blinked, the weight of the name hitting him immediately. Hollywood. One of the legends. The same pilot whose photo was framed alongside Maverick and Iceman, Goose and Slider in the halls all around base. He took a breath, trying to process it, while trying his best to keep composure. “You tellin’ me she’s Neven’s kid?”

Rooster nodded, continuing as if he knew the exact thoughts running through Jake’s mind. “Yeah, man. That’s Rigsy’s dad. Big shadow to live under. She’s been pretty much anti-pilot her whole life, from what I’ve gathered.”

Jake felt the words settle in his gut, realizing just how tangled this was becoming. Ellie wasn’t just some random civilian contractor; she came with baggage, a history that had been shaped by the same world they both lived in—but from a very different perspective. And after their Halloween encounter, he suddenly understood why she hadn’t mentioned anything about it. It also explained the guardedness in her eyes, the bite in her sarcasm.

“She doesn’t really talk about him much,” Rooster added, his voice dropping slightly, as if sensing Jake’s shift in mood. Rooster had always been good at that, even if Jake didn’t want to admit it. “Nic says it’s a sore spot. That and her folks splitting.”

Jake set his cue down, rubbing a hand over his face as he tried to wrap his head around it. “Damn.”

“You’re in over your head with that one, Hangman,” Rooster said with a knowing smirk. “She’s not your usual type, and if you somehow manage to get past all those SAMs she’s throwing out, she sure as hell won’t make it easy.”

“Wouldn’t be any fun if she did, Rooster.” Jake let out a dry chuckle, picking up his beer and taking a long drink. “Wouldn’t be any fun if she did.”

tags bbs: @hookslove1592 @mrsevans90 @avengersfan25 @jbennsquared @dempy @obsessed-fan-alert @djs8891 @lunatygerqueen @khouse712 @alipap3 @yuckosworld @marvelouslyme96

taglist if you want to be added/removed!

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writingsfrombeyondthegrave · 4 months ago

Note

Helloooo there!

Just wanted to say that I absolutely loved the Astrid x ghost!reader fic and was wondering if you were considering doing a part two?? maybe Astrid finds a way to save them and they end up dating or something?

I hope you Have a lovely day! Xx

An Accidental Haunting Part 2

Astrid Deetz x Ghost!Reader

*Platonic to Romantic*

Requested by anon

Summary- Now that Astrid could see you clearly, an unlikely friendship formed. She wanted nothing more than to be with you now that you two had gotten the chance to spend more time together. She would find a way for you two to be a couple. A proper living couple.

Warnings- Reader was m*rdered, Details about death and the afterlife, angst, depression, mention of cancer, trading one life for another, kissing

The afterlife is a complex thing than many humans never truly understand. Ghosts, often thought of as a figment of the imagination or a misguided illusion of the light, were more real than Astrid had ever anticipated.

Admitting her mother wasn't crazy was a big step in her life. Not to mention the fact that she was gaining feelings for a ghost, this time while knowing about the fact you were deceased. Your morbid humor, self-deprecating jokes and obscene amount of knowledge on the paranormal had a death grip on her heart.

Death was much more interesting with Astrid in your life. You didn't feel the dread or crushing depression as much as before. Sometimes you dare say, you felt more alive than you had when you were actually living.

Lydia had decided to move back into the old "Ghost House" after Astrid had begged her, claiming that she would even consider going to Miss Shannon's School for Girls until graduation. It was only one year away, but she had been adamant about it.

In the end, it happened to be a convenient idea. Lydia's Tv show career had ended and she opted to be an in-area Psychic for those in need. Somehow, however with your meticulous hiding, she never once saw you in the house. You have been very deliberate about keeping your identity there a secret between only you and Astrid.

"I hate to say it, but that uniform is lame" You spoke as you laid back on her bed with a teasing smirk, head tilted in her direction as she tried on the uniform, smoothing down the skirt.

She turned to you and raised an eyebrow, challenging you. "At least I don't have an old rock shirt than looks like you scraped it off of an 80s arcade floor."

"Ha. Ha." you laughed emotionlessly, tossing a stuffed bear at her to defend your honor. "Arcades are fun, but nice try at trying to offend me beautiful"

The smirk that remained on your lips made her heart skip a beat, but she would rather die than tell you how much power you held over her. Your nonchalant flirting always hurt, knowing it never held much meaning behind your words, but she continued to ignore it in favor of her sanity.

"Tell me again" Astrid said as she sat beside you on the bed, making the mattress bounce lightly. "What's it like to die?"

The quietness between you both stretched for a moment before you answered. "It's different for everyone. For some its peaceful, for some its painful."

"I meant for you personally, what was it like?"

Your amused laugh echoed through her room. "What was it like to be stabbed brutally to death? Just a normal Tuesday, of course"

No matter how many times you talked to her about the afterlife, you were always careful to leave out the specifics of your own death. The last thing you ever wanted from anyone was sympathy, especially from her. Sadness should never be an emotion she felt when you were around. So, you opted to made jokes and avoided those awkward looming moments of despair and helplessness.

Instead of laughing, she seemed to be deep in thought. "What if there was a way to bring you back?" She spoke so soft that you almost missed it, but of course you didn't. Instantly you sat up on her bed and faced her properly, startling her a bit at your sudden movement.

"Are you crazy? You of all people should know that's a terrible idea, Astrid. It's a life for a life, a crazy scheme that only the self-centered scumbags would pull"

"I know... I know. But you didn't deserve to die"

You scoffed, shaking your head in disbelief. "You don't know that. you don't know me! I'm a freak, Astrid! Thats why I'm dead, no one wanted to talk to me. Everyone feared me because the only people who understood me were already dead!" The screams you sent her way felt like daggers piercing her skin. There hadn't been a single moment up until now that you had acted any other way besides happy.

Without warning you vanished from sight, completely dematerializing Infront of her eyes. She stared in shock at the wall Infront of her, not knowing how to react.

All of a sudden it hit her, you needed her help to come back alive and she would do anything in her power to help you, even if that meant seeking out her mother for guidance.

The instant regret you felt after yelling at Astrid was eating at you from the inside out. Your knees were pulled up to your chest while you sat in a rickety old rocking chair. You looked over at the town model in the attic to distract yourself from falling even further into the darkness.

What you never mentioned to any of the spirits you helped, was that the longer the dead lingered on the living plain, the quicker your soul decays. The deceased were to move on after dying, in favor of protecting what mortality they died with. Your soul fades and your own morals that you once valued in life start to get corrupted.

"The Darkness" as you referred to it was the depressive black hole that swallows the last remaining happiness and hope that you hold onto. If you let yourself get sucked into that darkness, you may never find your way out of it again.

That is how some spirits get sucked into a loop, replaying their death and their most horrible moments over and over again until there is nothing left of their soul.

Smiling seemed to be your coping mechanism to avoid this, always happy and never upset over trivial things. Never allowing yourself the simple happiness that the living still enjoyed and took for granted.

Lydia was cooking in the kitchen when she heard rapid footsteps descending down the staircase. Astrid stopped and stood in the doorway, looking at her mother blankly for a moment. She couldn't believe how much progress that they've accomplished, yet she feared the awkward tension would always be there lingering.

"I... I need your help."

Lydia stopped what she was doing to look at her daughter in shock. "You do?" She dried her hands with the kitchen towel and quickly turned her full attention to her. "Of course, what do you need?"

"The handbook. I know you kept the one that the Maitlands had and I need to see it"

"Why would you need that?"

"I'm interested in your work" Astrid lied, forcing a small smile that she hoped was more than convincing. The smile that Lydia provided could've lit up every dark corner in the house.

After moping in your sorrows for the better part of that night, you finally appeared in Astrid's room the next morning, an apology ready on your tongue before you saw what she was doing. She was furiously flipping through The Handbook for the Recently Deceased, writing down notes in an old notebook.

You cautiously stepped up next to her and looked over her shoulder. "What could you possibly need that book for? You're not dead, babe."

She looked up at you, realizing your looming presence near her. The bags under her eyes were the only indicator that you needed to show her lack of sleep. Her body physically relaxed from its tense stance at seeing you back in her room. "I have the perfect plan on how to bring you back to life"

You groaned and flopped down into her beanbag chair dramatically. It seemed like your usual playful behavior was back at least. "Why must the living be so stubborn?"

"We are going on a trip, come on" She closed the book and tossed it in your direction, clearly expecting you to catch it. It hit the wall behind you with a heavy thud, thankfully not indenting it. You slowly turned your head to look at the book and then back to her.

"Did you really expect a different outcome?"

Astrid hugs her bag over her shoulder with the handbook in it, waiting for you to grab ahold of her so she could start her ride to the town's nursing home. After a deep sigh you hook your leg over the seat and wrap your arms around her midsection.

Your touch felt like a winter chill, but her body had never been warmer. Her heart beat quickly and she prayed you couldn't detect it. Your chin rested on her shoulder as you looked around the town.

You never were a very affectionate person in life, but for Astrid, you made an exception. There was no fear in her eyes when she looked at you now, and that made you feel as if you were finally home again.

The ride to the nursing home was quiet and quick. Astrid greeted the staff with a quick smile, claiming to be visiting her grandmother.

An argument soon broke out between the two of you as you crossed your arms, not happy by what she was proposing.

"Ms. Silvers has been in pain for years from the cancer. Death was inevitable anyway so what's the issue? She seems fine with it" She argued, and you just tilted your head, unconvinced. It was silent for a few minutes before you finally nodded your head, not being able to find a good enough argument to disagree with her plan.

Ms. Silvers was a good sport as you all headed to the cemetery together. She was a sweet old lady with a cane who seemed to be admiring the world through aged eyes.

"My husband loved this time of year" She spoke, her voice scratchy. "I just know he's been waiting for me. Thank you for this, Lovey"

Astrid smiled, walking beside her and making sure she was alright. You looked over at them, still cautious about the whole thing. Your entire life, you had never put yourself before anyone. This felt wrong, yet the old woman beside you could've been the strongest woman alive now. She had more courage than you could've imagined and you admired that.

The quiet Winter air blew past them, and she didn't so much as shiver.

After repeating the incantation in the crypt and entering, you decided it was best to lead the way. You had been to this part before when you first died. Youve come a long way and grown as a person since then. The confident look you always wore wavered slightly, but they couldn't see it since you were far ahead.

The picture for the transfer was about to be taken when Ms. Silvers reached over to give your hand a reassuring squeeze. "Young love is a powerful thing. Take care of each other, alright?"

You couldn't help the smile that overcame your features as you nodded, giving her hand a squeeze in return. "Tell your husband we said hi, would you?"

The transfer went smoothly, and you both walked her to the soul train together. Once inside the train, she sent you both a sweet smile and a wave before she departed.

Your body healed almost instantly; no indications left behind of what had happened to you. Your shirt however, still remained in shambles.

Crawling out of the crypt, you felt as if a rush of air filled your lungs. Your feet met the grass of the graveyard, and the world moved with you instead of without you. It acknowledged your presence and welcomed you with open arms.

You turned to Astrid with a bright smile. "I don't know how to thank you"

"Oh... it was nothing, really." Astrid laughed awkwardly, turning away to avoid your gaze. You looked at her as if she hung the very stars in the sky. The blood flowing through your veins and the shine of your lively skin looked heavenly to her, and she had to stop herself from staring in awe.

Without warning you cupped her face in your hands and kissed her softly, afraid that you might vanish from existence yet again. Her eyes widened in shock before she allowed herself to relax to your touch. Her hands instinctively held your hips, just barely. You pulled away after a moment and rested your forehead against hers.

"Even when I was dead and I couldn't feel anything, I swore I could feel the pounding of my dead heart as if it was beating for you. I'm afraid it will only ever beat for you now that I'm alive again"

She laughed, smiling freely as she looked into your eyes. "Thats the cheesiest thing I've ever heard you say, you dork"

"So, if I asked to kiss you again it wouldn't be as cheesy?" You smirked, and she swore she could get used to this every day for the rest of her life.

Extra:

"Now that your alive, can you finally change that crusty t-shirt?" Astrid teased, holding your hand tightly as you walked back to her house.

You pretended to think about it before laughing "Yes, Ma'am" You winked.

A/N- Thank you lovely anon for requesting a part 2! I have another Astrid fic lined up and, in the works, currently along with the lost boys and others. Please continue to send in requests and I'll get to them as soon as possible. Thank you all for the love on my writing, it means so so much to me.

If there is a possible part 3 wanted it would probably just be filled with little incidents when Astrid now saves the readers life because they forget they’re alive now and could actually get hurt.

If anyone wants to be tagged in any sort of tag list (doesn’t just have to be for Astrid fics), please let me know!

Also, I apologize for the extensive knowledge of the paranormal that I have lol. The afterlife has always fascinated me.

Credits-

Ghost and Graveyard Dividers- @animatedglittergraphics-n-more

#x reader #astrid deetz x reader #astrid deetz #lydia deetz #beetlejuice beetlejuice #beetlejuice 2 #beetlejuice movie #beetlejuice #x ghost!reader #jenna ortega #👻-ghost writing

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ipegchangbin · 1 year ago

Text

— not jisung’s, but yours

sub!jisung x dom!reader | 2.7k words

🏷️ cnc to dubcon. boypussy!jisung. smut. some fluff. porn, no plot. petnames “baby” and “mommy,” vibrators, squirting, dacryphilia, overstimulation, pain play, casual to intense sex, pretty boypussy. 📝 this is for @meivida, my fellow boypussy enjoyer! full and explicit version of header art is available on twitter. mwa mwa enjoy it mei ;))

18+ only. minors do not interact.

there are two things that you need to use and can’t simply let go to waste: your lonely little vibrator and your boyfriend’s pretty cunt.

it’s a boring afternoon and you think of which one to use first.

the longer you stare at jisung, whose legs are daintily crossed over the other as he sits beside you on the couch, you think harder and harder about how cute he looks.

he looks comically small against the wide frame of the couch, huddled in a corner, fiddling with his phone.

your bullet vibrator is in the drawer next to him. you figure that it’s best to play with what’s in front of you first, that the device can wait for you later.

it would be so fun to play with his pussy, right then and there, no pressure. so, that’s what you suggest, letting the words roll off your tongue with a cadence of nonchalance that catches jisung off guard.

“what?!” jisung asks with wide eyes, shocked beyond belief. “you want to what?”

you simply nod. “you can just stay on your phone if you’re busy, no need to moan or anything. i just want to touch it. may i?”

an audible gulp leaves jisung and he looks extra cute this way: blushing, unsure, cheeks puffed up like a squirrel in front of headlights.

you wait patiently for the response and that’s when your boyfriend notices a glint in your eyes. it’s sharp and intimidating compared to your relaxed body and neutral tone. he’s not shy of his pussy, you two have fucked many times before, but he’s extra shy of you now.

all you’ll do is touch his pussy here and there. lick it and tease it. he doesn’t have to respond. it’s nothing sexually serious.

“fine,” jisung mutters, but you can hear the slight curiosity in it.

a wide grin graces your face and it’s simultaneously the prettiest and hottest thing jisung has ever seen. it isn’t long before you inch forward, holding his milky smooth legs apart by his knees.

the simple action already makes jisung’s heart race. he’s free to react, free to not react, do anything while his pretty partner goes to town with his pussy. fortunately for him, his partner is you, but unfortunately for his cunt, it quivers easily at the prospect of being touched by you.

when your fingers grace his pretty panties with the most casual touch, he instinctively clenches, allowing his naturally wet cunt to coat itself more.

jisung shuts his eyes for a second before refocusing on his phone as a distraction — even if your delicate touch distracts him.

you push the body of his underwear to the side, revealing the sight you’ve been craving to see: his cunt is glistening, days fresh from a shave, clit peeking slightly out of his outer skin as if it’d been shy yet stimulated enough.

jisung seems to sink further into the sofa. you have to giggle at how adorable your boyfriend is.

you lean down to kiss his clit lightly, making him wiggle in his seat at the action. he’s still typing away at a document on his phone, no noise escaping his pursed lips, but he’s blushing like crazy and his legs habitually buckle inwards at the knees.

it doesn’t stop you from planting featherlight pecks on his pussy. his clit protrudes more and more, stiffening slightly from the stimulation, while his hole clenches to keep his wetness in.

you pull your face away and jisung looks down on you curiously.

he looks as if he’s about to ask a question and you can hear it in his small voice all before it turns into a yelp — you pulled away to pull his panties down, hooking your fingers around the fabric and yanking it downwards in a swift motion that shocks him.

“sorry ji,” you neutrally say as your cheek leans on his inner thigh, admiring his completely bare pussy. your finger finds its way running up and down his folds, feeling his pretty plump skin quivering under your light touch. you continue petting it at a pace that you don’t bother to keep up with. after all, you just want to touch it.

there’s nothing too sexual about this until one of your fingers is inside him and jisung moans.

it’s sudden yet it immediately puts your boyfriend into that familiar inescapable trance. you stretch him open ever so slightly that the touch leaves him in an unbreakable spell of just nothing but neediness — yet it’s just not enough. he knows that you didn’t have that much intent behind your actions initially but he can’t help it. he loses himself and moans loudly, lolling his head back and abandoning his phone at the side of the couch.

“b-baby, please, i’m so sensitive,” he pants, “so good…”

you kiss his inner thigh while admiring his fascinating burst of sensitivity. “i’m not doing anything though.”

“y-your finger’s inside, baby…you said you’d just touch.”

“can’t i touch you inside too?” you look up at him as you respond, and that’s when something dark hits you.

the only other sight that you find as pretty as his cunt is his blissed-out face, his slightly toned tummy and chest rising and falling from breathing heavily. he’s writhing slightly, hands settling on covering his face. his legs want to buckle in but he has to stop since you’re in between them, and you think it’s cute.

it’s adorable and it also touches something deep down in your dark mind. the intimidating glint in your eyes from earlier turns into a sinister gaze that pierces through jisung in the same way another finger penetrates his tight cunt.

“baby!” he moans again, this time sounding more like a cry, and it sparks something within you.

within the dark and greedy thoughts circle and come to a point, only illuminated by a lightbulb of an idea that pops in your head as jisung moans for you.

you could use your boyfriend’s cunt and your lonely little vibrator at the same time.

you curl your fingers against his sweet spot, locking him where he is as he shakes underneath you. his glazed eyes follow your free hand as it quickly pulls the drawer, skillfully finding the device as if it were force of habit.

a still-fully-charged vibrator in your hand was the least of your boyfriend’s expectations.

“baby…what are you doing?” he tightened his hole around your digits. perhaps you were going to use it on yourself.

memories of a few wild nights ago flashed before his mind, the memory teasing him as he remembered how fucking great it was to watch you play with yourself while he was restrained. you, his baby—no, his mommy, looked too good with the vibrator. seeing it again has him whining and drooling lightly.

excitement riled him up, the familiar feeling spreading through his tummy, making him gush wetness on your fingers.

until you turned it on and stuck it to his clit instead.

“a-ah—baby! fuck, holy shit, b-baby—” jisung writhed and twitched under you, jolting from the sudden vibrations. “baby, stop, not on me—”

you curled your fingers deep inside his tight little cunt.

“what do you mean ‘baby?’ address me properly or i won’t let you cum.”

panicked, jisung shook his head. “n-no…”

“no? no? do you think you have a choice, dumb boy?”

as he was about to protest, you dug the vibrator up against the grooves of his sensitive little clit, stimulating each and every single nerve at once while the toy sat at its highest and most consistent drilling speed.

“baby stop! stop, stop, stop, b-baby!”

“told you to stop calling me your baby.” this is all too much for him, the sensations leaving him a wiggling mess, fighting against the couch for some relief. no matter how much he shook, the sharp pains of your fast fingering and the bullet vibrator sent him into overdrive.

delirious as he is, the least he could do was to commit the mistake of calling you his “baby” over and over again. broken mantras recited in between moans yet you grew more and more impatient, drilling your digits in and out of his now-gushing pussy as he couldn’t seem to call you his “mommy.”

opposite of his baby, you were mommy — the one he always masturbates to, the one he finds mean, the one who punishes him, the one who is senseless to him. “baby” is the term of endearment, “mommy” is the name that breaks his spine from the icy chills that it gives him.

you’re far from his baby now.

“answer me,” you said.

“but—f-fuck, stop! stop! it—ah, ‘s not supposed to b-be there! ‘s yours!”

lightning strikes throughout your nervous system at his words. the toy is yours, so is he. jisung has to accept that he’s your toy too, and you can play with both.

just because it was your tiny machine doesn’t mean it could be lonely. you bought it not just for your own use, but you thought of using it on your pathetic, anime girl-like boyfriend and his juicy little pussy.

“i said answer me.”

“baby—b-b…fuck, mommy!” your fingers slid up to his limit, all the way past his sweet spot, abusing him with an immense physical hurt that makes him cry in a concerning fashion.

but fuck, you’re so addicted to his noises, his compliance, his submission, you can’t help but do it again.

“mommy, mommy, m-mommy! i’m sorry! please, mommy, p-please stop…”

“i’m not stopping.”

press his buttons like they were made to be hurt.

“stop…please…” jisung can feel himself wearing out from writhing so much, his body growing sore from trying to spread his legs apart — it doesn’t help that you pushed his knees down with strong elbows — and his arms felt useless from failed attempts at pushing you away.

he’s in pain but it’s so fucking good to him. his pussy grips your fingers as they slide in and out of him at a merciless pace. his cunt’s lips are glistening from an incoming orgasm that somehow hurts so sharply each time it pulses and makes itself known.

“th-that’s yours, mommy, it’s not—ahn! ‘s not mine!” jisung cries, “not on me, n-not on me—mommy! stop!”

again, he’s right; the toy’s not his. again, he’s wrong; it belongs to his pussy.

severe aches pulsate through his cunt yet it doesn’t stop gushing wetness with each thrust and curl of your fingers. the vibrator makes a heat pool in his belly that makes him want to release as he loses self control by the second.

“gonna cum…don’t want mommy…i don’t want mommy…”

something breaks in your brain as he mutters that quietly.

“why won’t you want me? want your pretty little ‘baby?’ even after you won’t fucking listen to me, you selfish boy?” each word leaves your lips as if arrows shot precisely out of a quick-slinging bow.

pathetic little jisung is unable to dodge your threats. “b-but this is yours, baby’s toy! not mine! it’s yours—“

“whose toy?” at his mistake, you press the vibrator against the peak of his clit and it audibly stings.

“b—mhmph! it’s mommy’s!”

“correct. and since it’s mine, i use it the way i want to, yeah?” you almost laugh at yourself and at your boyfriend’s wide, teary eyes. he’s genuinely crying from the pain and yet you can see the hearts in his pupils. he’s addicted to a vice called you and he’s all yours to be dealt with.

whines escape his lips as he starts gushing even more of a clear, sweet wetness. “oh fuck…y-yes, mommy…”

“good. i’ll play with both my toys if i want to.”

“i-i’m…so close…baby—” jisung gulps thickly at his mistake. “m-mommy, gonna cum, gonna cum, please stop, s-stop!”

there’s a real fear in his eyes from being punished for wanting to cum. from calling you his baby. from asking to stop.

“why would i stop?”

“i’ll cum! ‘m gonna squirt! it’s too much!”

giggles leave your chest that are as dark as thick smoke. “there’s no such thing as too much, dumb boy. need you to squirt all over me.”

“but it hurts! hurts so much, can’t take it anymore!”

eyes meet between the both of you and jisung’s wet cunt clenches hard at the sight if your grin. the overstimulation hurts, the usually warm orgasm suddenly feeling too hot inside him. you only have two digits inside him yet he’s already so fucking tight and the small lonely vibrator feels like a death trap on his unfolded clit.

“where does it hurt?” you curl and unravel your fingers at an incredibly fast rhythm for a moment, your nails intentionally digging at his limit. “here?”

“fuck!” jisung shrieks from the pain. “fuck, no! please stop!”

you abuse his cunt in every single way, kissing and biting the inner parts of his thighs at the points where they are most sensitive.

cries get stuck in your boyfriend’s throat. “i’m begging, mommy, m-mommy…” he sobs this time, letting tears roll down his face as his hardened nipples jiggle from his heaving chest. “g-gonna—ah—gonna…cum…”

“then cum. squirt, boy.”

pressure builds quick and, as if on command or by pure blissful accident, jisung starts screaming and squirting loads.

waves of sweet gushing roll one after the other as he bucks his hips upwards and shakes. his head is rolled all the way to the back of the couch. quick and harsh throbs radiate through his clit as his sloppy cunt squirts. the pressure is intense and you feel it against your skin, but your fingers never leave his tight hole even as he’s screaming your name and wetting your entire arm.

one last gush of his pussy leaves after what seems to be a minute straight of him losing all his senses to a harsh orgasm. it’s only then that you turn the vibrator off and set it down on his wet mess. his hips fall down on the couch with a loud thud and his body seems to shut off.

you lick his pussy and his entire body rattles. the rapid shaking subsides when jisung musters up the last of his energy to look at you, satisfied, licking the cum on your lips and arm.

he’s so fucking sweet.

“did you like it, sungie?”

jisung pants, unable to catch his breath. it takes him far too many seconds to process what you asked, his mind still hazy and cloudy from the massive orgasm. he literally can’t think of anything but you.

he nods his head and drops it to his side from exhaustion. “thank you mommy,” he weakly mutters. “i love you…”

you prop yourself up and away from his legs and watch them finally close daintily as you cuddle next to him. he nuzzles his head directly onto your chest and rubs his nose against your chin as an instinctive yearning for comfort.

“mhmm. i love you too sungie. don’t worry, your baby’s here.” as twisted as it is, your sweet smile returns as if nothing had happened.

as if you weren’t being a monster on his clit.

“my baby…” a relieved sigh escapes him. “i’m…’m scared of mommy…”

you chuckle. you’re his baby now as much as he is yours. “but you like my toys, right?”

“y-yeah…but mommy’s so scary…” his cheeks puff up and he looks like the little squirrel boy that you fell in love with. “mommy’s a meanie. i like my baby more.”

his plump cheek plops on your chest and he reaches for your wet hand. the sight of his essence amazes him, but more so, every curve of your hand gives sparkles in his eyes.

“b-but i…” jisung clears his throat as it became scratchy from moaning endlessly. “i like every part of you. my baby, my m-mommy…you. you’re always so good to me.”

he licks his essence off your finger and his cheeks heat up at the taste. “i-i can’t stop loving you, baby.”

“can’t stop loving you either, ji. you’re my good boy.”

you lightly pet his pussy as a simple reassuring gesture, but instead, jisung’s entire lower half jolts. he lets out a dragged out whine as well.

maybe you forget how sensitive he is.

“sorry my sungie! couldn’t help it.”

jisung giggles lightly in response. “it’s okay, baby.”

playing with your two toys at once seemed worth it: your vibrator is a little less lonely now, and your boyfriend’s pretty cunt is well spent.

cleaning the wet couch is a worry for later.

taglist: @toastyseungmo @hobihearteu @biddes-enthusiast @snow-pegasus @subby-kpop @myrandomthoughtsandhobbies @eggielix @turnipfizzle @hanniecheesecake @hyunebunz @laylasbunbunny @ppiri-bahng @he-they-heathen @chriscentric @svintsandghosts @starryoong @bbyquokka @abiaswreck @suengmi @fun-fanfics @fairylouist + @compersian @fruitcakebin @jisvngc0re1

love u mei ^_^ again, explicit version of header art is now up on twt.

thank you for reading ! consider reblogging and leaving feedback if you loved my work 💗 artwork and writing © ipegchangbin. no reposts and translations.

#skz smut #sub!skz #sub!jisung #sub!han jisung #dom!reader #stray kids smut #jisung smut #han jisung smut #💬 z is writimg #🗯 z is drawimg

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little-miss-dilf-lover · 8 months ago

Note

TAN BODY WORSHIP SMUT!!! Pretty pretty pleeeease 😭❤️❤️❤️ like maybe she’s bloated or something?? And thus kinda self conscious?? And Tan notices and WE KNOW HE DOES NOT LIKE THAT and you tell me what happens next, I’m stoked

this is hot shit! thanks for requesting, hope you like it💌

every time I post something, it disappears!?? and im gonna lose my marbles

ANOTHER ACHE.

tangerine x fem!reader — smut

word count. 855

warnings. 18+ only. what the ask entails, bit of titty and kitty stuff. minors dni

Laying in bed, you were nursing a slight tummy ache, the bloating in your stomach from something you ate earlier making you feel uncomfortable. The waistband of your pyjama bottoms began to dig in, so you pulled yourself out of bed to put your robe on instead.

And as if he was on cue, Tangerine appears in the doorway of your shared room to check on you.

"Turn around," you quickly blurt, bringing the thin fabric of the robe to cover your bare front. "Close your eyes."

"Huh?" he questions, features pulled together in confusion. "Turn around?" he repeats, making sure he heard you correctly.

"Just," you shush him, wavering your hand. "Just do it."

He reluctantly turns away, muttering things to himself until you give him the clear.

"Okay, done," you say, tying the bow on your robe.

"What was that about?" he asks, brows furrowed.

"I was getting changed," you shrug, acting casual about the ordeal.

"Right?" he replies.

You hesitate. "I was naked."

He steps into the room, walking to stand in front of you - leaving a comfortable amount of space. "Yeah, exactly."

"It's cold."

"No, it's not."

"It is," you lie.

"I'll put the heating on, then," he playfully retaliates, eyes narrowing on you.

"I'm on my period."

"No, you're not," he shakes his head. "That was last week."

"I dry shaved, and now I got razor burns all down my front."

"Fuck off," he chuckles.

"I spilt tea all down me— burnt like crazy." Another fib.

"That right?"

"No, that was a lie... I walked into the kitchen island and bruised my stomach."

"Aw, you poor thing," he steps forward, closing the gap - a soft, entertained smile twitching along his lips. "Did it hurt?"

You nod, returning a faint, playful grin. "A little."

His eyes narrow in once again, his hands instinctively reaching for the tie on your dressing gown. But you still his movements, the expression on your face suddenly changing - your hands over his, stopping him.

His head cocks to the side, features mirroring yours - his eyes silently questioning.

"Bloated and don't feel so hot," you reply, giving a casual shrug, trying to act nonchalant.

Once he knows it's nothing too serious, he leans in, pressing a kiss onto your lips. "Sorry," he mutters into your mouth, sealing another kiss of where he just spoke.

"It's fine," you whisper between the close distance, reaching your hand into his hair - smoothing over a stray curl. "Just feel yucky."

"Want me to help?" he quietly asks, eyes half-lidded as he focuses on you.

"I don't know if you can," you laugh softly, appreciating his offer.

He nods, silently dismissing you. His hands lower to the placement before, his fingers slinking into the bow of your robe. He pauses, eyes flicking back up to you, waiting for you to agree. And when you finally do, he's carefully untying it, letting the fabric expose your midriff for him to see - pussy and tits covered by the thin material of your underwear.

"I don't see the problem," he says casually, palms skimming across your tummy to rest on your hips - fingers grazing along your skin.

He watches the reaction on your face to anticipate his next move, and when he sees you crack a forgiving smile, he leans back in, pressing kisses into the corner of your lips - trailing them down to run along your jaw.

He slips his hand into yours and leads you towards the bed, sitting first —at the edge— he pulls you over, guiding you to straddle him. You do as silently asked, propped on your knees either side of his thighs, the semi in his trousers bumping up against your cunt.

You drape your arms loosely over his shoulders, keeping yourself balanced, and as if he sensed it, he wraps one of his around the middle of your back - holding you still. With his other, he reaches to cup under your tit, his fingers snaking into the top of your lounge bra. He tugs it down, revealing the whole of your breast.

"Still not feeling better," you tease, dragging your fingers atop his curls.

He carries the weight of one of your tits, adjusting his hold as he leans forward to pepper it in kisses, the edge of his stache tickling at your nipple. "No?" he whispers, peering up to look at you.

You shake your head and close your eyes, pushing your chest outwards and into his face. "I feel worse."

With the hand he had on your mid back, he skims it across - moving to place it on your upper thigh. "Worse?" he playfully repeats. "That's not good," he tsks, thumb reaching up to your clothed-cunt - the pad circling over your clit.

You wrap your hand around his wrist, fingers merely reaching around the meat of it - holding him to where you wanted him.

"And this helps with the aches, hm?" he whispers, voice hoarse and cocky. His hand resuming its placement, thumb continuing the slow, winding circles.

Well, an ache, not the ache.

also btw @everythingisspokenfortbh my lovely, it’s not likely that I’ll be able to get through all the asks you sent, love love them all!! but keep them saved for next time. people will be sick of me😭😭 xx

#everythingisspokenfortbh #tangerine #tangerine x reader #tangerine smut #tangerine bullet train

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misshoneyimhome · 4 days ago

Note

Love your series Willy inexperienced series! I don't know if requests are still open and how William reacted to OC wearing his jewelry and hockey outfits supporting him wouldn't mind if this turns into a breeding kink.

Thank you so much, babe! I’m so happy to hear you’re enjoying the series 🥰

Requests are never entirely closed—I always like to keep the door slightly ajar for all your brilliant ideas 😊

For this one, it could have been set at the start of their relationship, like when he saw it for the first time. But as I started writing, I leaned more towards continuing from Christmas into the New Year. I hope you enjoy it 💕

Tropes and warnings: Inexperienced!reader x Willy, soft boyfriend!William, fingering, implied sexual behaviour

Word count: 1.4K

➼｡ﾟ

Chained To You | inexperienced!reader x William Nylander ✐☆

You were still adjusting the collar of William’s jersey—one you’d confidently “borrowed” from his closet—when you heard the distant sound of the door slamming shut. He was back from practice, and your heart gave a little flutter as you checked your reflection in the mirror. The jersey was oversized on you, hanging loose around your thighs, but you’d cinched it in at the waist with a slim belt, turning his hockey outfit into something just a bit more… enticing.

A silver chain—William’s chain—glistened around your neck, the metal warm against your skin from where you’d been fiddling with it, trying to figure out how he wore it so effortlessly. You’d added a pair of thigh-high socks for good measure, and as you turned to one side, you admired how the jersey slipped off one shoulder, revealing a glimpse of your collarbone.

When you stepped into the living room, William was shrugging off his jacket, hair slightly damp from the shower at the rink. Tired as he looked, the moment he caught sight of you, something ignited in his eyes—surprise, delight, and something deeper, more primal.

“You… you’re wearing my jersey,” he said, half-breathless, half-amused. His gaze flickered down to the chain around your neck, then back up, lingering in ways that made a warm flush creep over your cheeks.

You feigned nonchalance, running your hand down the front of the hockey jersey, smoothing the fabric as though simply admiring it. “Thought I’d show my support,” you teased, a coy smile tugging at your lips. “Plus, I might’ve borrowed this…”—you tapped the chain—“…for, um, moral support?”

A grin spread across William’s face as he let out a low chuckle. “Guess I won’t need to look far to find my missing clothes—and jewellery—anymore.” He stepped closer, slipping an arm around your waist, pulling you in. The jersey bunched under his hand, the belt shifting slightly.

“How’d practice go?” you asked softly, heart fluttering from his proximity.

His other hand came up to toy with the necklace, thumb brushing over the metal chain resting above your collarbone. “Long day,” he murmured, “but seeing you in my stuff just made it all worth it.” His gaze traced over your legs and the high socks, and he let out an appreciative hum. “I like this look,” he added, leaning in so you could feel his breath against your ear.

“I’m guessing it’s not just the look,” you teased, recalling his playful smirk whenever you’d worn his gear around the apartment—like one time you’d turned up in his hoodie and not much else. This time, though, you’d clearly outdone yourself.

His lips curved in amusement. “Is it that obvious?” His tone dropped, turning low, as he pressed a kiss to your temple. “You and your surprises. First the sneaky photos, now you’re wearing my jersey, my chain… you’re driving me crazy.”

“I guess I just like the idea of feeling closer to you,” you admitted, heat pooling in your belly as he trailed a fingertip under the chain. “And maybe I also wanted to see your reaction.”

He chuckled, stepping back to look at you fully. “So, how does it feel?” He gestured toward the jersey, at the big bold number and name emblazoned on it.

You shrugged, letting the garment slip off your shoulder again. “Pretty good. Think I look like I could get out there and play?”

He laughed, eyes crinkling at the corners. “You’d definitely distract the entire team.” With that, he slid a hand up your thigh, hooking a finger under the hem of the jersey. The shift in his expression told you he was no longer playing around. “You want to, uh, ‘show your support’ in other ways?”

“Is that what you want?” you returned, voice going soft with your own brand of curiosity.

His eyes darkened, a flicker of mischief dancing there. “I’m exhausted,” he admitted, “but… I think I’ve got enough energy to see how well you handle wearing my name.”

Your heart fluttered as he guided you backward, nudging you to perch on the edge of the sofa. The jersey gaped over your thighs, and he let his fingers slip under it, exploring bare skin. You inhaled sharply when his touch trailed higher, near the sensitive spots you hoped he’d find.

“Hmm,” he murmured, leaning down, pressing his lips at the hollow of your throat, right near the chain. “Looks good on you.”

His free hand slid around your waist, pulling you flush, as he opened his mouth against your skin, leaving a damp, heated trail of kisses. Heat coiled low in your belly, that all-too-familiar ache reminding you just how inexperienced you used to be, yet how eagerly you’d learned to trust him over the past year together.

“We can take it slow,” he whispered, reading the flicker of nerves that always stirred in your eyes at moments like this. “We don’t need to rush.”

A sense of safety spread through you, but desire overshadowed any hesitation. You reached for him, letting your fingernails graze gently over his shoulders. “Show me,” you said softly, feeling bold. “Show me why you like me in your jersey so much.”

His responding grin was warm yet wicked. He tugged the jersey higher, exposing the lacy panties you’d matched with it. “Wearing my name, my chain… is that your way of saying you’re all mine?” he teased, pressing a lingering kiss to your neck, his breath fanning over your skin.

“If that’s how you want to see it,” you teased back, your cheeks heating up as his hand slipped between your legs, the jersey bunching beneath his touch. He pressed a gentle, exploring stroke on your clothed core, and you inhaled sharply, trembling.

His lips curved, eyes flicking to yours. “Can’t lie—there’s something really… sexy about it. Seeing you wear my number, my chain. Makes me think about you being mine in a more… permanent way.” His voice held a hint of deeper longing, a huskiness that made your heart thump.

“Permanent?” you echoed, your body igniting at the thought.

He inhaled, as though steadying himself. “Don’t look at me like that,” he teased, though his eyes shone with sincerity. “But yes, maybe permanent. Maybe… someday.” He cleared his throat, leaning in to nudge your nose with his, softly. “Like I said… mine.”

A thrill ran through you—he was hinting at something bigger, something about a future together. And maybe something about having more than just a name, more than just a jersey in common. That simmered in the back of your mind, and you recalled how certain fleeting moments had made you suspect he had a breeding kink—like the heated way he sometimes talked about seeing you full, about you carrying his future. It was a topic that made you blush, but also made your pulse spike with forbidden excitement.

You parted your lips to say something clever, but the words didn’t come. Instead, you gasped as he pushed aside the lace beneath the jersey, two fingers finding your slick heat. Your head fell back, a soft whimper escaping before you quickly bit your lip, mindful of Alex’s presence somewhere in the apartment.

William nipped gently at your ear, voice dropping. “Remember, quietly,” he teased, echoing the lessons you’d learned about stifling moans when you absolutely had to.

Your breath hitched in response as he began an unhurried exploration, every stroke measured to coax quiet little shivers out of you, each one more intense than the last. You clung to his shoulders, the chain jingling faintly when you moved, as if reminding him you were still wearing a piece of him. He pressed his forehead to yours, eyelashes fluttering as he gauged your reactions.

“A good way to start this new year, I guess,” you murmured dazedly, half in jest, half in genuine admiration of how gently and thoroughly he was worshipping you.

He laughed softly, pressing a kiss to your temple. “You better not have more surprises up your sleeve,” he teased, likely recalling your habit of leaving him surprise Polaroids or lacy tokens. But from the way he was leaning into you, you suspected he wouldn’t mind if you did.

The moment pulsed with an unspoken promise, a yearning that whispered maybe someday soon he’d do more than just appreciate you in his jersey—maybe you’d truly be his, in every sense, building a life that matched the intensity of your love. But for now, you were content to let him show you all the sinful ways a borrowed outfit and a single piece of jewellery could spark a new level of connection.

You might have been the inexperienced one at the start of this, but as he bent to kiss you again, you realised how far you’d come. And you relished every minute of it.

#my asks #inexperienced!reader x Willy #wn88 imagine #18+ smut #william nylander smut #william nylander imagine #toronto maple leafs imagine #nhl fanfiction #nhl hockey smut

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starsenha · 5 months ago

Text

[5] ABOUT THE BOY - happy birthday

The club was packed, the bass thumping through the walls as people danced and drank like there was no tomorrow. Lights flashed in sync with the music, creating a euphoric atmosphere that pulsed with energy. But the real action happened in the slightly elevated VIP area where you and your friends sat. It gave you a perfect view of the entire club. You were sitting at the center, casually sipping on your drink while chatting with Lia and Sunoo.

"Looks like the whole school showed up. I'm not surprised," you said, laughing as you glanced over the crowd.

"They wouldn't miss it, it's like the event of the year," Lia said smirking.

You smirked, taking another sip of your drink. You were used to the attention, but tonight you had one objective and you will succeed.

Meanwhile, outside the VIP section, Sunghoon, Jake, and Jay had just arrived. They were greeted by a wave of energy as they entered the club, the music and lights hitting them full force.

"Man, this place is wild," Jake shouted over the music. "I can't believe we actually got invited to Lia's birthday party."

"I can't believe Yizhuo actually invited me, I feel like i'm dreaming," jay nervously adjusted his shirt.

"Just keep it together, man," sunghoon said, laughong slighlty at jay's nervous appearance.

Before he could retort, they spotted Yizhuo making her way through the crowd, weaving between people like she owned the place. She looked stunning, her outfit catching the light as she moved.

"There you guys are!" she said, smiling as she reached them. "I was wondering if you got lost or something."

Jay stared at her in awe before clearing his throat, trying to look cool but failing miserably. "We… uh… didn’t want to miss it.”

Jake laughed a bit at his friend, and Yizhuo followed him. “Come on, I want you guys to join us in the VIP section. The party’s just getting started.”

"VIP?" Sunghoon asked, slighlty surpised.

“What, you thought I’d make you stand with the crowd?" she laughed a bit, her tone teasing. "Come on, you’re with me now.”

The guys exchanged glances, disbelief clear on their faces. This was a level of access they hadn’t expected. As Yizhuo led the way, Heeseung was practically floating, Jake couldn’t wipe the grin off his face, and Sunghoon… well, Sunghoon was trying very hard to keep his cool, despite the fact that he knew you were just a few steps away.

“I can’t believe this is happening. She actually wants us to hang out with them.” Jay whispered to Jake as they followed the girl.

"Dude, i told you, we're fucking in," he responded, grinning widely. "Just try not to freak out."

They reached the VIP section, and as they stepped up into the elevated area, the first thing Sunghoon saw was you. You were sitting like a queen, completely at ease, your outfit hugging her curves in all the right ways. For a moment, Sunghoon’s breath caught in his throat. He hadn’t expected you to look even more stunning than you had in the picture.

You looked up and caught Sunghoon's gaze, your lips curling into a knowing smile. "Well, look who finally decided to join us."

"Oh man, we're so done for," Jake muttered under his breath.

Yizhuo gently pulled Jay to a seat next to her, "Sit down, guys! Make yourselves comfortable."

Jay sat down stiffly, trying to act nonchalant but failing as he kept stealing glances at Yizhuo. Jake slid into a seat next to you, still grinning like an idiot, while Sunghoon hesitated for a moment before taking a seat on the opposite end of the couch, as far from you as possible without being obvious.

"You're enjoying the party?" you leaned slightly towards Jake, your voice smooth.

"Y-Yeah, definitely. This place is awesome." Jake answered, stuttering like crazy.

"Relax, Jake," Lia said, laughing. "We don't bite. That much."

"Unless you want us too, but that's another story," Sunoo winked at him, making everyone laugh.

"So, Jay," Yizhuo said, turning to him with a playful smile, "How come you never told me you were this much fun? I would've invited you sooner."

“I… I guess I’m just… I don’t know, better late than never?” Jay was blushing like crazy.

“He’s dying inside right now.” Jake murmured to Sunghoon.

The tall man only smirked as a response. You caught Sunghoon’s eye again, and he quickly looked away, focusing on the drink Yizhuo had just handed him. You noticed his evasion and decided to push a little further.

“Sunghoon, you’ve been awfully quiet. Are you not having fun?” you asked, mustering the most innocent voice you could, and tilted your head to the right.

“Just… taking it all in. It’s a lot to process.” he responded, forcing a smile.

“Well, I hope you’re enjoying the view.”

Sunghoon felt the heat rising to his face and took a quick sip of his drink to avoid responding. Jake, meanwhile, was practically swooning in his seat, caught between admiring you and trying not to embarrass himself.

“Dude, she’s even more gorgeous up close. How are you not falling for this?” Jake said to Sunghoon, trying to be subtle.

“I never said it was easy. But I’m not getting pulled in. I refuse.” Sunghoon whispered back.

“Good luck with that man. ‘Cause I’m about ready to sign my soul over.” Jake said with a smirk.

Meanwhile, Yizhuo was thoroughly enjoying Jay's flustered state, leaning in close and whispering something in his ear that made his eyes widen.

“I think we should make this a night to remember, don’t you?” she said playfully.

“Y-Yeah, definitely. Whatever you want.” he was barely holding it together at this point.

“Oh, he’s so whipped already. It’s adorable.” Sunoo said, noticing Jay's expression.

“If this keeps up, he’ll be a goner before the night’s over.” Lia laughed.

As the party continued, the initial nerves had melted away as everyone relaxed into the night, the drinks and drugs flowing freely. You had successfully drawn Sunghoon out of his shell—he was no longer avoiding you, though he was still cautious. Every now and then, you'd flash him a teasing smile or brush your hand against his arm, and despite his best efforts, he found himself actually enjoying the attention.

“You’re surprisingly fun, you know that? I didn’t expect you to be so… interesting.” you said, leaning closer to him, your voice silky smooth.

“You make it sound like I’m supposed to be boring.” Sunghoon said, smirking.

“Well, you were playing hard to get. I like surprises.” your tone was undeniably playful now.

“Maybe I just wanted to see if you were worth the chase.” he took a sip of his drink.

“And what do you think? Am I?” you responded, your fingers caressing slightly his arm as you never broke eye contact with him.

Before he could respond, the VIP section doors opened, and in walked Heeseung and Sungchan, making their grand entrance. Hee, dressed in a sharp black suit, exuded confidence. He had just come from a high-profile Prada event where he’d been the center of attention as one of their ambassadors. Sungchan, ever the party boy, was already on the lookout for familiar faces.

Heeseung's eyes immediately scanned the area, landing on you, who were sitting far too close to Sunghoon for his liking. He felt a twinge of jealousy flare up inside him—he was used to being the one by your side, the one you flirted with, even if you didn’t know how he really felt.

He approached you and the group with a controlled but slightly arrogant stride. "Well, well, well. Looks like i missed a lot."

Your mood lightened up when you saw him. You immediately stood up and pulled him into a hug. "Hee! You made it! I was starting to think Prada kidnapped you or something."

He hugged her back tightly, his voice low. "They tried, but I managed to sneak out just in time, angel.

Heeseung's eyes flicked to Sunghoon, and he immediately sized him up. Sunghoon, who had stood up as you pulled him into the hug, noticed the brief look of appraisal. There was a moment of unspoken competition in the air, a tension that neither of them acknowledged but both felt.

“Sunghoon, this is Heeseung—one of my oldest friends. Hee, this is Sunghoon. He just transferred to our school.” you said, turning to Sunghoon, your hand casually resting on Heeseung's arm.

Heeseung extended his hand, but his smile did not quite reach his eyes. "Nice to meet you, Sunghoon.”

“Likewise.” Sunghoon shook his hand, matching his firm grip.

They exchanged a look, the kind that spoke volumes without a single word. Heeseung’s protectiveness over you was palpable, and while Sunghoon wasn’t necessarily interested in causing trouble, he wasn’t about to back down either. You, ever perceptive, noticed the subtle exchange and found it amusing. Oh, this was gonna be fun.

“Looks like the testosterone just spiked in here. Think we should step in before they start arm-wrestling?” Yizhuo said, leaning towards Jay.

He laughed softly, shaking his head. “Nah, let them have their silent standoff. It’s kind of entertaining.”

Heeseung, still keeping a watchful eye on Sunghoon, turned his attention back to you. He knew you loved the attention, but he couldn’t help feeling a bit territorial, especially with someone new in the picture.

“So, what’s the deal, yn? You replace me as soon as I’m gone?” his tone was teasing, but there was an edge to his voice.

“Oh, please. You know you’re irreplaceable."

Hee wasn’t entirely sure if he liked how this was going, but he was too proud to show it. Instead, he decided to keep his cool and enjoy the party—at least on the surface.

“Alright, enough with the brooding looks. Let’s drink! It’s Lia's birthday, after all.” Sungchan said, breaking the tension with a grin.

“Yes! Drinks on me, everyone.” Lia said, still amused.

The group settled back into the party, and for a while, the tension between Heeseung and Sunghoon simmered beneath the surface, occasionally flaring up in the form of subtle jabs or pointed looks. You continued to openly flirt with Sunghoon, who, despite his earlier resolve, found himself getting drawn in by your charm. He knew it was dangerous, that he was walking a fine line, but there was something about you that just made it hard to resist.

After a while, Sunghoon started to feel the pressure of your relentless attention. Despite his best efforts to stay cool, he knew he was reaching his limit. You were gorgeous, charming, and undeniably magnetic, and the more time he spent with you, the harder it became to keep his guard up. And with the alcohol in his blood, it wasnt"t helping in the slightest. He needed to get out of there before he did something he’d regret. Spotting Jake by the bar, Sunghoon quickly made his way over, weaving through the crowd with purpose.

“Jake, I need your help.” he leaned closed to his friend, his voice low but still loud enough through the music.

“What’s up? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“More like I’ve been cornered by one," Sunghoon said, frustrated. "I need to get away from yn before I completely lose it. Help me out here.”

“Oh no, you’re on your own, buddy. I’m not getting between you and yn. That’s a death sentence.” he responded, grinning, clearly amused.

“Come on, Jake! You’ve got to have some kind of excuse. Can’t you, I don’t know, fake an emergency or something?”

“Sorry, man. You’re the one who decided to flirt with fire. Now you’re just going to have to deal with the heat.” jake shook his head, still smirking.

“Great. You’re really useless, you know that?” Sunghoon sighed, knowing that his friend wouldn't budge.

“Hey, you’re the one with the hottest girl in school chasing after you. Most guys would kill to be in your position. Just earn it.”

“Thanks for nothing, Jaeyun.” sunghoon said before making his own escape plan.

He slipped through the crowd and headed outside, where the cool night air hit him like a refreshing wave. He took a deep breath, grateful for the brief reprieve from the chaos inside. Leaning against the wall, Sunghoon closed his eyes for a moment, trying to clear his head. But his peace didn’t last long.

You stepped outside and immediately spotted Sunghoon leaning against the wall, looking like he was deep in thought. You smirked, her heels clicking softly on the pavement as you approached him.

“Trying to run away from me, Hoon?” you said playfully.

Sunghoon opened his eyes at the sound of your voice, his heart skipping a beat when he saw you standing there, looking as stunning as ever. He tried to keep his expression neutral, but it was getting harder by the minute.

“I needed some air. It’s getting… intense in there.” he sighed.

You stepped closer, "Intense? I didn’t think I was that scary.” your tone was obviously flirtatious.

“You’re not scary. Just… hard to resist.” he found himself smirking, as his eyes never left yours. He was done for.

“Good. That means I’m doing something right.”

You moved even closer, closing the distance between them until you were just inches away. Sunghoon could feel the heat radiating off you, and he clenched his fists, trying to keep his resolve.

“You’re making it really complicated for me, yn.” he said, his voice low.

“Who said you had to resist? You don’t have to, you know.” your voice was so soft and seductive it was going directly to his crotch. The way you were looking at him wasn't helping either.

He hesitated, his thoughts briefly flickering to Chaeyoung. The wound was still fresh, the heartbreak still raw, and he wasn’t sure if he was ready for something new. But you were persistent, and you weren't giving up that easily.

“I’m still… getting over someone. Chaeyoung. It’s not as simple as just moving on.” he struggled to stay composed, as his gaze lowered to your lips.

Your expression softened for a moment but did not falter. Instead, you moved closer, your hand brushing lightly aginst his chest. "I can't help you forget about her," you voice was just above a whisper. $

You tilted your head slightly, your lips inches from his, your breath warm against his skin. Sunghoon’s heart raced, and he could feel the last of his defenses crumbling. “You’re really not making this easy, princess,” Sunghoon growled softly, his voice tense.

Your smirk widened at the nickname, and you leaned in, your lips barely brushing against his ear. “Who said I was trying to make it easy?”

That was the last straw. Sunghoon’s control snapped, and before he knew it, he had closed the distance between you, his lips crashing against yours with a force that surprised even him. You responded immediately, your arms wrapping around his neck as you melted into the kiss, your body pressing against his.

Sunghoon took control of the kiss, his hands sliding to your waist, pulling you even closer. The kiss was heated, intense, full of the tension that had been building between you all night. You moaned softly against his lips, your fingers tangling in his hair.

With a swift, fluid motion, he pinned you against the wall. The rough brick against your back contrasted sharply with the warmth of his body pressing against hers. Your pulse quickened, your breath hitching.

The kiss grew even more desperate than before. His hands slid up your sides, his fingers digging into your skin as he deepened the kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth with an urgency that matched the wild beating of his heart.

You moaned again softly into the kiss, your hands fisting in the fabric of his shirt as you pulled him even closer if that was possible. The alcohol coursing through your veins only heightened the sensations, making everything feel more intense, more intoxicating. Sunghoon’s lips moved from your mouth to your jaw, trailing hot kisses down your neck as you tilted her head back, giving him better access.

You were so caught up in each other, so lost in the moment, that neither of you noticed the figure approaching from the side of the building until it was too late.

"Well, well, well. What do we have here?" Sungchan said, grinning, his voice breaking some sort of spell that fell on top of you.

You broke apart, breathing heavily, your hearts pounding. You looked over at Sungchan, trying to compose yourself even as your body still buzzed with the intensity of what had just happened.

"Sungchan, what are you doing out here?" you tried to sound casual but your voice betrayed you.

"I was sent to fetch you. Lia’s about to blow out her birthday candles. But it looks like you two were busy…" Sungchan, his teasing smile still plastered on his face. He was clearly enjoying the situation.

Sunghoon ran a hand through his hair, trying to steady his breath. He could feel the heat still radiating from his body, and he was acutely aware of the smudge of your lipstick on his lips. He was in too deep, and he knew it.

"We were just… talking," hoon said gruffly.

"Yeah, talking. Sure," Sunghcan laughed. You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the smile tugging at your lips. Sungchan was never one to miss a chance to tease, and tonight was no exception.

"Whatever. Let’s just go back inside before Lia sends out a search party."

With that, the three of them headed back into the club. The music hit them like a wall as you reentered, the lights flashing, the crowd still going strong. You led the way back to the VIP section, but Sunghoon lingered for a moment, trying to shake off the intensity of what had just happened.

As you approached the VIP section, Jake and Jay spotted you immediately. Jake’s eyes widened as he noticed the smudge of lipstick on Sunghoon’s lips, and Jay, always observant, raised an eyebrow.

"Dude, do you see what I’m seeing?" Jake grinned as he leaned toward Jay.

"Oh yeah. Someone’s been busy." Jay smirked.

Sunghoon tried to wipe the lipstick off with the back of his hand, but the evidence was still there, a faint red smear that only served to confirm what the others were already thinking.

"Hoon, I didn’t know you were into face painting." Jake teased, unable to resist.

"Shut up, Jake." Sunghoon said, scowling, clearly annoyed but also embarrassed.

"So, I’m guessing that chat with YN was… productive?" Jay laughed.

"Can we just drop it?" Sunghoon responded, grumbling.

"Hey, no judgment here. Just saying, I didn’t expect you to come back looking like you’ve been through a freakin war zone." jake said, grinning.

Sunghoon said. He knew that the only way his friends would stop was by changing the subject. "Can we focus on something else? Like Lia’s birthday, maybe?"

Just then, you reappeared, looking completely composed, as if nothing had happened. You flashed them all a smile before turning to Lia, who was ready to blow out her birthday candles. And as you caught his eye from across the room, giving him a knowing smile, he knew that resisting you was going to be the hardest challenge he’d ever faced.

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