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dilfl0v3rss · 1 year ago

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"lets talk in person"

it was simple. you were to go to his apartment, say your peace, and call the relationship quits. not everyone who loves each other should be together. it’s okay that you and ony aren’t going to work out. you’ll take the time you need to heal and eventually find someone new.

that’s what you’ve been telling yourself over and over for the past five minutes as you threw on your short shorts and cropped hoodie, your pink french tip toes neatly slipping into your hello kitty slippers. you overlooked yourself in the mirror. the soft fabric of your shorts moved with every inch of your ass, sitting on top of it as a second skin, clearly showing your lack of underwear.

‘just talking in person’ you thought as you grabbed your car keys from your vanity and made your way outside. this felt familiar. the soft rumbling of your engine as well as the pitch black sky, littered with crystal like stars. you’ve been here many nights before, tears in your eyes and an argument on your tongue as you raced across town to his house. the latest time being when you saw pictures in his phone being sent to him by another girl. you still don't know her name since the contact was saved as your favorite restaurant to calm any suspicion.

this time there were no tears and the many questions and concerns in your mind have faded away. you know that talking in person probably isn't the best idea given that ony has a way with words and knows how to use his body to his advantage, but you knew if you didn't tell him it was over to his face he wouldn't take it seriously.

for the first time since you’ve met ony you weren’t nervous when you approached his front door. you held your head high as you left three knocks to signal that you’ve arrived. seconds went by as you listened to the heavy footsteps coming from the other side. you took a deep breath and kept your eyes forward as the door began to open.

your heart fluttered at the sight of him. you knew this man was fine, but he always seemed to have a little extra glow when he pissed you off. it was like he thrived off of making your life a living hell sometimes. his chocolate brown eyes stayed trained on yours as he moved to the side for you to enter. his milkly white nike socks sat snug on his feet, light grey sweatpants starting from his ankle, up his long legs, all the way to his v-line. his black polo tee was sitting perfectly on his beautifully sculpted body, accompanied by two gold chains resting on his broad chest.

"hey ma" he rubbed a wide hand up his chest as he spoke.

his face was serious, but you knew it was a facade. his smooth, dark skin looked freshly moisturized as if he had just showered. his bottom lip tucked behind his pearly white teeth, centimeters away from his growing goatee below it. ony has been a known manipulator for years, and you’re just like the other many woman that have found themself stuck in his trap. you were different from those other women though, much smarter.

“thanks” you mumbled, ignoring his greeting before moving past him and towards the couch. you fought with yourself about taking a second look at him, but decided against it, knowing that all it took was that one extra look and you’ll be back in his bed again. you heard ony chuckle at your attitude. "cute", he thought, closing the door before slowly making his way next to you on the couch. he gave you some room since it was often that he’d manspread like he was now. ony spread his legs wide as he slid his inked hands into the waistband of his sweats, his navy blue polo boxers making an appearance as the waistband of his sweats stretched over his fists. low eyes moved towards you and rested there, just taking in your presence as the two of you sat silently. ony's lack of words scared you since it was often that he’d start trying to get you to talk to him by now, but that wasn't happening.

you felt naked under his gaze, that nervousness quickly sneaking into you as you kept your eyes on his. he knew you were on the shyer side, always turning away when it came to holding eye contact or speaking up to him. this is what he fed on to get the upper hand on you, but you refused to let the same that's happened many times before happen today. “ion think we should be together no more ony.” you broke the silence, body finally finished wasting time to free the words your mind has been screaming since you walked into the door. your tone surprised ony, its sternest very foreign to him. you were ready for him to try to plead with you, try to hold your hand and tell you that he wanted to change. that was actually what you would’ve preferred, it would’ve helped you be able to actually leave because that's what you were expecting, but tonight isn’t really feeling like how they used to anymore.

ony didn’t say anything. his eyes just stayed on you, tongue swiping over his bottom lip as he tilted his head to the side. a shiver ran down your spine as you watching his dark eyes move down your body, stopping right at your center before a small smirk crept onto his lips and he rejoined his eyes with yours. “so you leavin me, huh?” his deep voice caused his chest to rumble, the bass in it causing your thighs to tighten together. you gave him a small nod, only adding fuel to the fire as his head began to nod as well. “speak up mama" the sound of that nickname rolling off his tongue forced a rush of arousal to run through your body, stomach filled with butterflies as you adjusted yourself in your seat. why does he have to be so handsome?you wanted to just jump into his arms and let him take you, but that wasn't an option tonight. of course ony could tell you were fighting with yourself. he fought back a grin as his eyes traveled down to your tightly clenched thighs. you watched as his bottom lip disappeared behind his teeth, his hunger rising in his gaze.

he rose from his seat on the couch, “ima give you the night to think it over, but you can grab some of your stuff tonight i guess.” the gold on his canines showed as he spoke win a bored tone, his hands moving from his sweatpants as he rose from the couch.

your eyes followed him, his 6’3 figure looming over you as you stay seated on the couch. he had the audacity to stretch like the situation was just another night for him, but you couldn’t stop yourself from staring right at him. ony’s lower stomach made an appearance as he stretched the muscles of his back, shirt riding up his stomach as a deep groan released from his throat. his visible tattoos ran from his neck all the way to his fingers. some of them he claimed represented you, but you doubt he hasn’t told other woman the same exact thing.

you watched him walk towards the bottom of the steps before turning facing you, dark brown eyes filled with mischief. “you coming baby?”

ony couldn’t bite back the smirk that overtook his features, his head tilting to the side as he raised a brow at you. you know this is a trap. if you go up those stairs you most definitely won’t be coming back down tonight. you’re sure that the rest of the women he’s been with have fell for the same exact thing and that’s why you knew it was time to leave.

ony is a liar and a manipulator. he is incapable of showing loyalty or commitment, and he shows no signs of potentially changing this behavior. he is the worst type of man a woman can involve herself with and he deserves to be left standing at the bottom of the steps as you walk away from him and this toxic situation you called a relationship. he deserves to be treated the same way you were and worse.

you aren’t like the other woman he’s been with. you knew it and he knew it. you were much smarter and were quicker to pick up on his schemes. you were much more logical than the rest.

“uh huh, there you go. loosen her up f’me” the base in his voice ran straight to your core as ony fucked you slowly in missionary. your legs were spread wide, each and every inch of him stroking you as pretty whines flowed from your lips. he watched you hungrily, dark brown eyes raking up and down your body before landing on your face. “look so pretty” he mumbled as he watched your face contort into many ones of pleasure, "o-oh my god"

within the first ten minutes of you being in his room you managed to get a pair of panties and a brush into your bag before you found yourself with his face between your legs. his long tongue making quick work of licking and eating whatever anger you had left before spreading your legs wide and feeding you every inch of his dick.

ony’s pace was quick, snatching loud moans from you before his wide, inked hands found purchase on the bottoms of your thighs. “you love me mama?” before you could reply, he slowly pushed your thighs towards your chest, listening to you breathlessly moan at his newfound angle. “hmmyea” your eyes began to roll, every sentence you’ve thought of saying dissolved on your tongue as he leaned down closer towards your face. “oh really? why you jus try to leave me den? youn love daddy no more” ony couldn’t stop his smirk from widening as you watched you panic beneath him. whiney, breathless begs flowed from your kiss-bruised lips as your walls tightened around him.

“was stupid, love you papa, o-only you” you looked up at him, brown doe eyes fighting not to roll back as your lips curved into an adorable pout, you were stunning. ony’s dick began to twitch at the sight, an orgasm threatening to approach causing his breathing to quicken. “maybe i should put a baby in you. that should set you straight right?” you were so fucked out you barely could register his words. your mindless nodding being evidence of that. your lack of comprehension only turned ony on more as he began to push himself deeper into you, his pace quickening even more as he began to pound you into the mattress.

“you my stupid lil princess ain’t you, so damn beautiful” ony chuckled at the sight of you. it wasn’t too long ago you were sitting on his couch telling him you were ready to call it quits. now here you are not even an hour later in the middle of his bed milking him for everything he had. you weren’t like the other girls, that was true. you weren’t oblivious to the things he did and you weren’t gullible either. you had a good head on your shoulders. other girls don’t think when it comes to ony, but that’s what makes you so much worse.

ony is a liar and a manipulator. he is incapable of showing loyalty or commitment, and he shows no signs of potentially changing this behavior. but while other woman mindlessly fall into his games, you knew all this and still choose to stay, letting his wide, dark hands roam and caress your body as he fed you each and every inch of him at a steady pace.

you nodded along to every word he uttered, not a single thought going through your brain as you felt the coil in your stomach begin to tighten. "now tell daddy you sorry and promise not to do no dumb shit like that again." ony's hand slowly snaked up your body, stopping right at your throat before slowly squeezing it tighter and tighter. he slowed his strokes, hovering you right over the brink of your orgasm. he couldn't help a devilish smirk from spreading across his features as he listened to your pretty voice struggle not to break as you spoke. "sorry f'trying t'leave you daddy and- ah!" your sentence was cut off by a quick, hard trust of his hips, his dick reaching your deepest parts with a quickness as he tightened his grip on your throat. "let daddy hear you ma, use that big girl voice you had when we was downstairs."

you grew restless at the sound of his deep, commanding voice. he watched as you whimpered, tonging swiping over his bottom lip as he moved his face closer to yours. "m'listening" his hips didn't miss a beat, brown eyes staring deep into yours as your lips parted for you to speak. "m'sorry for tryna l-leave you daddy, won't do it again p-promise." as you spoke ony's hips moved rougher. his hand quickly finding your lower stomach before giving it a gentle push. "o-oh my god onyy" your back arched off the bed as your orgasm shook through your body. ony swallowed your moans, brown lips dancing with yours as his tongue asserted its dominance in your mouth.

your spit kept your lips connected as ony slowly moved his face from yours. he took in your fucked out state, eyes rolled back, lips swollen from the many kisses you've shared, not a single argument on your tongue nor a thought in your head. nothing but ony clouding your mind as he dug you out in ways he knew you'd never be able to find anywhere else. he had you right where he wanted and by the looks of the delirious, fucked out smile spreading to your lips you wouldn't even remember what you were mad about in the morning. ony fucked you a little harder and a smirk crept onto his face at the sight.

"my stupid lil princess"

#aot x black reader #onyankopon x black reader #onyankopon x reader #onyankopon x black!reader #onyankopon x black y/n #aot onyankopon x black reader #aot onyankopon x reader #aot onyankopon x black!reader #aot onyankopon x black y/n #aot onyankopon x black!y/n #onyankopon x black!y/n #aot x black!reader #aot x black y/n #aot x black!y/n

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sunlightmurdock · 2 years ago

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Hey, Neighbour! | DBF!Jake Seresin x Reader (18+)

Synopsis: Jake’s been having a problem recently, and when the power goes out next door, everything quickly comes to a head.

Warnings: dad’s best friend trope. Age gap. Reader is in her mid-20s, Jake’s around 40. Obviously unbalanced power dynamic. No use of Y/N. Reader’s dad has a name. Mention of reader having a piercing. Smut. Pure filth and pining. Smut. Oral (f receiving). Unprotected pinv. Creampie. Jake has no respect for his best friend’s furniture. Choking briefly. Please comment / Reblog, it’s greatly appreciated. Wc: 8.5k. Minors dni, you will be blocked.

…

Jake clicks the television off and pushes himself up from the couch, joined by his shadow of a German shepherd called Ace. They walk together to the sound of the meek little knock at his front door, Jake’s gym socks padding along his dark wood floors along the way.

It’s late. Too late for whoever is at his front door to be bearing good news. He twists the door handle and pulls it open, rolling back his aching shoulders. This late at night, he has a good idea of who’s going to be standing on his porch.

As expected, standing there and shivering in your dad’s coat and a pair of slippers, is exactly the last person that Jake was hoping to see.

You see, Jake has had a bit of a problem since he moved in to this neighbourhood.

Quite a substantial one, in the grand scheme of things, and one that seems to just be getting worse by the minute.

Suburbia was meant to be Jake’s reprieve from his bachelor lifestyle. His escapades have been worrying his mother to death for going on two decades now, and it came time that even Jake agreed that it was time to wisen up about his love life. With all of the deployments, and all of the time away from home, it had been beyond easy to never fall into anything serious. By the time he was twenty-nine, Jake’s longest ever relationship was two and a half months, which was alarming given the number of women he had encountered by then.

Two things happened that sent Jake here, to this cute little cul-de-sac in suburban San Diego, one — Jake’s job became more secure, and guaranteed that he would spend at least ninety percent of his remaining career here on the west coast. Second, he proposed to a woman. A beautiful woman, that he was so sure he was going to spend the rest of his life with.

She liked his house, it looked like the one her parents had raised her in. So, he bought the house and he bought a dog, and swore that he was going to try to settle down. Six months later, it was just him and the dog. Payton apologised profusely, and she’d apologise even more if he ever ran into her again, he just wasn’t right for her.

Things weren’t so bad though. Jake and Ace liked the peace and quiet, and the guy next door was actually pretty cool. Jack, the airline pilot with a mean golf swing and a great nose for the best sports bars in town. He’s a little older than Jake, with a hell of a lot more to show for it, including three grown up kids.

It’s been a couple of years now, and Jake’s practically part of the family. He knows everything there is to know. He’s there on birthdays, holidays, emergencies — he loves this family. But he has a problem.

His problem was manageable at first. So, Jack’s youngest daughter might have caught Jake’s attention at first. You were visiting home from college and you had stepped out of the car in a tight little pair of shorts and a tank top, and Jake just happened to be standing in Jack’s garage, helping him with a little project, when he first saw you.

And you were funny. Right away cracking some joke about Jake’s less than adept approach to projects around the house. Jake had laughed out loud without even meaning to, and then you’d turned your head and hit him with that mega-watt smile. Bringing new meaning to the term beaming.

God, that pretty fucking smile.

Your humour dances lightly on the nerves of others, like Jake’s, but sweeter. You’re well behaved and back then you had had a dreamy boyfriend who was in pre-med. Perfect in every way.

Even more reason for Jake to keep his hands to himself.

You were Jack’s kid. Jake wouldn’t ever cross that line. It’s just that sometimes… he had to remind himself of this boundary.

He hadn’t ever been close friends with someone where that was even a concern, and truthfully, he had been unprepared for meeting you. In all of the stories Jack told him, you were this cute little kid. Standing before him, you didn’t quite match the image he had of you in his head. This was truly uncharted territory.

Truth be told, there were times when Jake wasn’t so sure you wanted him to hang back. Even when you were still bringing that boyfriend of yours around, Jake caught the way you looked at him.

The way you tug those glossed lips between your teeth and grin around the straw of your drink.

If he was a better friend, or a stronger man, he might have been able to nip his little problem in the bud right away. He had tried, and you were living away from home then, so it was easier. But last month, you had moved back in with your parents and Jake’s life has been nothing but stress ever since.

On occasion, Jake thinks of how he would have to plead his case if someone discovered how he felt. You just don’t know what it’s like when she’s looking at me, man. I swear, I tried to stay away from her, I did.

It’s not his fault that Jack asked him to watch you while your folks were away on that cruise.

Jake’s gaze finally flickers back up to your wounded, hurt baby bunny, expression.

“What’s the matter, cutie? — You alright?” He reaches for you with one hand, gently grabbing at the crook of your elbow and guiding you towards him. That sad little look on your face tugs at his heart strings every time.

“Yeah, I just — I plugged in my phone charger and all the lights went out. I think I tripped a fuse,” All exasperated and frustrated at once, you push your hair back off of your face and frown at him. “Could you come take a look at it for me?”

Jake’s throat grows thick. Under your dad’s heavy work coat, Jake can see the thin white tank top you’re wearing and the blue checkered, boxer style pyjama shorts. But Jack asked him to take care of you.

“Yeah. Of course I can,” Jake nods his head and reaches down to tug at Ace’s black woven collar. “Come in a sec. I just need some shoes.”

There haven’t been too many occasions where you have been inside Jake’s place. Your dad comes here a lot and you’ve been sent over to collect him before dinner on occasion, or to deliver Jake some leftovers.

It’s warm inside, and it smells like woodsmoke and leather. He’s been burning the candle that you got him for his last birthday. You inhale softly, shrugging the coat closer to your body.

In the times that you have been over here, you’re always surprised by how tidy he keeps the place. It’s not what you would have expected of a single guy living all alone.

Jake pulls some sneakers from a tidy shoe organizer disguised to look like an end table and crouches down to put them on his feet. Leaning over, something catches his eye between the heavy fleece of your dad’s unzipped work jacket.

“Did you get your bellybutton pierced?”

The question startles you, drawing attention to the fact that you had been craning your neck and trying to get a look into Jake’s living room. You turn your head, blinking as Jake straightens up and takes a step towards you.

He reaches out and before you know it, his warm fingers are stretching out across your chilled, just exposed navel. His thumb brushes over your soft skin, brows drawing together as he examines the dainty jewelry pushed through your skin.

Swiftly, you take a step back and his hand drops away from your body. “I’ve had it for years.”

There’s a silence between the two of you. Jake’s going to be kicking himself for that for weeks to come. He shouldn’t have reached out and touched you like that. He shouldn’t be commenting on things your father wouldn’t approve of. You’re too grown up for that.

“Huh,” He clicks his tongue, reaching just past your side to grab his house keys from the dish by the door. “C’mon, kid. Let’s go take a look at those lights.”

The shuffle of your slippers cuts through the awkward silence as you cross Jake’s front yard and into yours. It’s late November, and a cold night in particular too. Standing in just a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt, the evening chill makes Jake’s arm hair stand on end. As you walk ahead, your back to him, Jake wonders if it has the same effect on you.

Thinking about his best friend’s daughter’s tits. He wishes the shame alone was enough to knock the thought out of his head. He wishes you hadn’t moved home. He wishes you weren’t leading him into your dark, empty house right now.

The entire house is pitch black, but Jake tests the hallway lightswitch in passing anyway. He notes the dubious look you shoot him back over your shoulder. Then, he passes by you as you stop to take off that big coat. It’s not something he wants to hang by and watch.

It’s cold as his shoulder brushes yours, and not just because it’s November. You swallow thickly, staring after him until he disappears into the dark. Your feelings towards Jake are complicated.

Well, they’re not. Your crush on him isn’t the innocent middle school crush that you used to have on an older figure, like a teacher. No, this is far from doodling his name in your journal. This man, and his thick, ridged abs and golden chest hair, is working his way into your dreams.

After the break-up, you had sworn off men for a while — and that was the right decision for you. But, it left certain parts of you yearning. And Jake’s right next door. From your bedroom window, you’ve got the perfect view into his backyard. The same backyard where he’ll work out in the blazing heat, sweat glistening along his tanned skin, along the ridges and valleys of his muscles.

No, this crush is far from innocent. It crossed the border into indecent weeks ago, the first time that you touched yourself thinking about him. It wasn’t your fault; he was tempting you.

You had returned home from work to find Jake hanging out in the living room with your father, not unusual, and you had joined the two of them. Your dad had started with a playful comment about Jake. Jake had returned the favour with a witty remark about your dad. You were just joining in on the fun, poking playfully at Jake’s age.

All too suddenly, he had turned sharply to you and pinched the soft skin between your ribs and hip, leaning dangerously close with a smirk on his face that made your head spin. In fact, you still remember the way your mouth had hung open as Jake had breathed out a chuckle and shot you that playfully warning look.

“You think you’re funny, huh?” He’d challenged, that eager look in those wild green eyes, his cheeks dimpling just slightly, fingers pressing into your side.

Since then, you can’t help but think of him closer, and closer.

“Jake, wait!” You call, dropping the coat onto a hook and kicking off your slippers, starting to rush after him. Jake cranes his neck to look back at you over his shoulder. “You should probably show me what you’re doing. Y’know, in case it happens again.”

“Sure. Come here,” Jake jerks his head for you to join him, extending his hand for you in the dark of the utility room. You swat around until your fingers graze his, falling silent at the brash way he grabs hold of your hand and drags you closer. Your ass briefly brushes his thigh as he guides you in front of him. Jake steps back, clearing his throat. The little red dot on the fuse box illuminates his fingertips as he reaches past you. “This is the switch you want, don’t mess with anything else or your dad’ll kill you.”

The corners of your lips twitch. There are plenty of things your dad would be furious with, if he knew you had done them.

Jake’s fingers curl around the switch. His cologne fills your nose. His massive bicep is inches from your cheek, and everything feels like electric as his other hand comes to rest on the bare space between your shirt and your shorts. You’re trapped between him and the wall in front. If you would push your hips back just an inch or two…

“So, you flip the switch off to reset it,” Jake’s voice is all gravel from yelling at the young pilots he instructs, and shouting over the top of loud music in bars. It drifts past your ears and makes you want to shiver as his fingers curl around the plush of your hip. “And then you flip it back on for the power.”

Suddenly, the lights come back on in the hall outside of the utility room. Jake’s got you cornered against the fuse box really, and with the washer and dryer to your side, the only escape would be to rush out into the hall. You’re not quite ready to make that move. You can hear the amusement in his voice. He can feel the way you’re burning with awkward embarrassment in front of him.

“Oh.” You say quietly. Jake chuckles from behind you, his hand trailing about an inch higher, taking some of the fabric from your tank top with it, pinching playfully at your newly exposed waist.

“Happy to help, kid.” He’s already drawing back, his hand pulling away from your electrified skin, the sound of his shoe hitting the floor and alerting you to the fact that he’ll be leaving before you even know it.

“Could I ask you for one more favour?” You turn to face him, biting sheepishly on your bottom lip.

“Sure. What is it?” He’d retile your entire bathroom for you if you asked him to. That’s what makes him wish he was a better friend.

There’s an art to the way you bat your lashes at him, knowing better than to get too close or put your hands on him. Just that deep, pleading look in your eyes is more than enough. “Will you finish watching my scary movie with me? — Kinda… freaked me out a little bit when the lights went out, is all.”

“… Yeah. Yeah, I guess I can hang out for a little.” You’re a good kid, and it’s just a movie. He can’t leave you over here all by yourself, scared out of your mind, now, can he?

Jake wonders if this is what your father had in mind when he had asked his most trusted friend to just be there for his daughter while they were away.

That same, trusted best friend, sitting on the couch with his chin propped up against his palm, and that daughter’s head resting against his shoulder. You could have sat over on the other end of the couch, or even in your dad’s armchair, but that defeats the purpose of asking Jake to stay.

“Fill me in. What am I missing here?” Jake asks, mostly to fill the silence. His arm stretches along the back of your couch, his knees parted obnoxiously and his neck awkwardly straight to minimise risk of him laying his head against yours.

Your hand comes to rest against his middle, eyes focused calmly on the screen. “So there are two timelines. The present, and flashbacks to like… maybe ten years ago. Ten years ago, the family bought this mirror, and…”

Jake’s fingers inch their way into your hair, trailing softly over your scalp. Your fingers brush over his middle as he massages your scalp. He listens to you explain the plot of the movie like he isn’t thinking about the way your nipples are pressing through the white fabric of your tank top.

“Freaky mirror…” Jake muses over the concept of the plot, squinting his eyes at the screen, his fingers slowing to a halt in your hair as he turns his head to look at you. “You gonna be able to sleep okay tonight if we watch this?”

You meet him back with a sheepish grin and an innocent shrug of your shoulders. “Well, I already started, so I need to see that it ends okay, or I’ll be freaked out.”

“Alright. Just making sure you’re not gonna try crawling into my bed tonight after you have a nightmare.” Jake teases, pushing his knees further apart and sinking down into the comfort of the grey fabric couch he helped the movers bring in here last August.

He didn’t push you away when you sat right next to him and curled against his side. He reached out himself and stroked his fingers along your stomach.

Confidence surges through you like a wave, swelling big enough for you to giggle and press closer to him. “Come on, would that be such a bad thing?”

“What did you say?”

The swell has passed and the wave crashes just like all the others do, breaking over an otherwise calm sea. You swallow softly, growing exceptionally still.

“I was just kidding—“

Jake’s fingers leave your hair and curl instead around the nape of your neck. He turns his head, attempting to get a look at your face. “No, no. Say it again. What did you say?”

You shake your head, pressing it closer against his toned stomach. “I was just joking. You wouldn’t mind it that much if I had a bad dream and had to come sleep in your bed.”

He’s quiet for a moment and the movie draws tense. The main character is creeping around in the dark, the music is building, and Jake’s far too quiet for your liking.

“Don’t joke about that.” Jake says quietly.

“Okay. I’m sorry.” You answer him, hugging your cheek into the dark fabric of his t-shirt. That way, there’s no chance of him seeing the shame on your face. Going after your dad’s best friend— you should be ashamed of yourself.

Jake rubs a palm over the stubble on his jaw, trying to focus on the screen in front of him. This movie can’t possibly take much longer.

He knows he has upset you. You’re uncharacteristically quiet, and he can feel you trying to sit still. He shifts his hips a little, reaching out and resting his palm against your waist.

Your brows draw together as the main character bites into the apple she was eating and glass shards drop to the floor in front of her. Jake feels your fingers curl into the fabric of his shirt. Sweat beads on the nape of his neck.

His thumb swipes back and forth over the inch of bare skin on your hip.

Jake glances down at you. Laying against his middle like this. It feels all too natural. He isn’t even paying attention to the movie. Truthfully, the only thing on Jake’s mind is how soft your skin feels against the pad of his thumb.

Imagining how soft your body would feel in his palms, every inch of your skin in his capable hands.

You gasp as the camera pans to the main character’s bleeding mouth, and the shattered lightbulb in your hands, twisting your head and burying your face in Jake’s shirt.

Jake flinches, his attention drawn back to the screen as his fingers curl into your skin. His face twists in distaste, groaning at the gore on the screen.

“Shit, you weren’t kidding about this being freaky.” Jake mutters with a soft shake of his head, shifting uncomfortably as his fingers massage at the pillowy skin of your waist. He swallows thickly, eyes dropping down to the way you’re nestled just above his waistband. He tries a weak chuckle, mind racing for something to lighten the mood. “What am I meant to do if I’m up all night after this, huh?”

You laugh softly against his stomach, pressing closer to the warmth of his rigid torso. Jake stares at the screen as he feels your open palm brush over his abdomen, fingertips grazing the waistband of his sweats by mere millimeters. He strokes your skin, setting his knees further apart by an inch.

Even with the score of the movie in front of you, everything feels so quiet. Even with the floor lamp to your right and the table lamp to your left, it all feels so dark. It all feels so slow. Truthfully, you imagine this is as close as you’ll get to understanding what it feels like to tightrope across Niagara Falls.

One misstep, a strong gust, the loss of balance in any capacity and its all over. The best friendship that your father has ever had, thrown away because you made a pass at a man far too old for you to begin with.

Then, Jake’s fingers break their almost surgically precise pattern. The tips stretch just slightly under the fabric of your tank top, reaching for the silken skin of your stomach. It’s brief, before they retreat to the safety of circling the skin that you’ve chosen to expose. You drop your gaze, watching all five of his digits follow their intricate pattern, and stretch under the cotton white of your top once again.

Maybe Jake notices that you’re watching him, or maybe he finally notices it himself, but he stops all at once. Fingers pulling back to rest platonically against your hip, green eyes trained seriously on the television, his lips stretched into a flat line.

“It’s okay,” You whisper without turning your gaze away from the screen. Jake doesn’t look at you. He feels your fingers brush across the top of his, curling through the digits, linking them together. “It’s okay, Jake. You can. I won’t say anything.”

Your parents aren’t going to be home for another eleven days. What’s Jake supposed to do until then, ignore your existence? — Avoid you entirely?

He wants this, and you’re on to him, giving him permission.

“Honey,” It’s caught somewhere between a sigh and a groan, an exhale of restraint and desperation all at once. He wishes he could at least pretend he’s half interested in this movie. “Don’t talk like that.”

Your brows draw together, eyes going wide as a child in the movie creeps through the house, headed for the master bedroom. Bloody sheets on the bed. A smashed plate on the floor. Jake’s hand gripping your hip. The child inches forwards, the music swells, a chill rushes down your back. In frame, the little girl rounds the edge of the bed and someone leaps out, bloodied and frenzied. Jake hasn’t been paying enough attention to gather who.

Neither one of you will care in a few moments.

The surprise makes you jolt, leaping up from your spot against Jake’s stomach, sitting upright all of a sudden, grabbing onto his forearm for support.

“It’s alright, cutie,” Jake breathes out in soft amusement, rubbing a heavy circle on your back. That’s the first thing he called you. When he’d seen you struggling to lift the icebox in the garage. Let me get that for you, cutie. And now, he has the nerve to pretend like it’s just you that has led the two of you here. “Maybe we should turn it off now, huh?”

Your heartbeat is already thudding in your ears and there’s no way you’ll be able to sleep after any of this. Fuck it. You turn, brace your palm against his shoulder, and take the dive.

Jake has thought about what those pretty lips feel like. Every time they stretch upwards into those pretty smiles, each time you sink your teeth into the bottom one. He should be prepared, in theory. Is there any way to prepare for something like this?

“Sweetheart…” Jake mutters against your lips, eyes screwed shut, hands reaching out for your hips. Pained, he gives a slow shake of his head. “Come on, we can’t do this.”

“But do you want to?” Your lips graze his. He feels the way you arch your back, knocking your chest into his, angling yourself in a way that just begs him to grab hold of your waist and drag you into his lap. You close your mouth, pecking softly at his still lips once more. “If you didn’t know my dad… you would. Right?”

Yes. Of course he would. He would be insane not to. He’s driving himself insane trying not to.

“But I do, and… and he trusts me.” Jake turns his head just slightly, but his hands reach for you. His big hands find your hips and grab onto them tight, hard. He just holds you right there. There’s got to be some kind of way he can regain some of the power here.

“I trust you.” You tell him, kissing his jaw tentatively. Delicate fingertips skim along the throbbing vein on the left side of Jake’s throat, reaching for the nape of his neck. Soft, slow kisses lead a trail to his earlobe, passing plains of stubble and angled bone. “I know you won’t hurt me, and I know you want me. It’s okay, Jake, I want you too.

“Fuck.” Jake swears, dropping his head forwards to rest against the curve of your shoulder. His fingers dig into your hips harder and harder. By the time Jake drags you forwards, his grip is so tight that you would have no choice but to follow. You fall into his lap, lips parted and eyes wide as Jake’s deep pine coloured eyes study your face.

You wait for him to speak again, but he doesn’t. Not for a long time. His fingers stretch up from your hips, reaching under the fabric of your tank top, extending across your bare abdomen. He stretches the brushed cotton further, taking it up with a gentle touch.

“Your father would kill me.” Jake muses as his fingertips graze the underside of your breasts, his eyes solely on your face. You smile back at him, only partly because your father is an airline pilot who couldn’t bench half of what Jake does on a good day.

“I won’t tell him if you don’t.”

Jake grits his teeth. It has started to rain outside now. That storm that channel four had promised is starting to roll in. The movie will be over soon. The rain will be the only sound on this entire street. This house is completely empty, beside the two of you. He exhales through his nose and pushes his hips up. He’s half-hard under you, and giving you another disapproving shake of his head.

“Little fuckin’ minx…” Jake curses you, his words fanning out across the span of your exposed neck, hot and cold all at once. “You get off on teasing me like this, or something?”

A smile works its way across those pretty lips. Jake could see more of that smile than he sees sunsets and he would still be pretty damn content. Your nails rake softly through the almost buzzed fade at the back of his head as you give a shake of your head.

“Well, it’s not teasing if we take care of it,” Your shoulders rise and fall in a soft shrug as Jake’s fingers trail further upwards, taking your tank top with them and exposing your breasts to the cool autumn air. The rattle of the air conditioning unit that your dad tells you not to mess with reminds you of the real culprit as your nipples harden and perk with the exposure. You lean back, bracing each of your hands on Jake’s knees, arching your chest out, letting Jake see the newly exposed skin. “If you’ll let me.”

His eyes are pretty when he smiles. When he’s staring at your tits, they’re hooded and hungry, a shade of green that threatens to draw you in and hold you captive. What a happy captive you would be. His hands grab at both of them at once, squeezing roughly at the supple flesh.

All at once, his mouth is on yours too. He’s sucking at your bottom lip, growling into your mouth. He smells of smoked wood and he tastes of scotch. It paints half of a picture. A lonely man sitting in his home alone on a Saturday night, burning a candle given to him by a girl half his age and drinking liquor older than he is himself.

You’re straddling his hips now, your bare thighs squeezing into the fabric of his grey sweatpants, pulling yourself closer with each hungry kiss. Jake’s touch is experienced, expert; he pinches softly at your nipple, anticipates the way your mouth will draw open in a soft gasp, and licks into your mouth the second that it does. He sucks softly at the tip of your tongue, revelling in the feeling of your soft breasts in his hands.

“Arms up.”

You’re such a good girl. The way that you comply with a wordless grin and bite at your lip once the tank top hits the floor has Jake in even more trouble than he was before. He kisses softly at the space between your tits, pushing them together in his hands, opening his mouth and pressing his tongue into your skin.

Men like boobs. Big boobs, small boobs — your shared gossip sessions with friends in college always led to the same conclusion, men don’t care. They bite, suck, grab regardless of size. It shouldn’t be anything new. But then Jake reaches your left nipple. His right hand palms at the underside as his tongue swipes in a circular motion, just before his lips clasp around the sensitive bud.

You know he’s watching you through those esurient green eyes, but you find yourself playing right into his capable hands anyway. Any leverage you may have had in seeming like his charms don’t work on you are washed away with the dulcet tone of your first moan. It spills from your lips, your nails pressing into the nape of his neck as Jake sucks expertly at the sensitive skin.

He pulls away with another ravenous exhale, something between a sigh and a groan. His hands feel heavy on your body as they paw at your chest with a capability you’ve never encountered before. His cologne is expensive and mature, a smokey blend that has you intoxicated and enthralled. His mouth is wet and eager, but oh, so slow as it explores the areas of you he has dreamt about.

The rain outside is growing heavier, like it’s learning to mimic the deepness of each of your breaths. The movie must have finished by now. Neither one of you is going to check.

His stubble prickles, rough and masculine, abrasive compared to the adept caress of his tongue. His right hand grabs forcibly at the nape of your neck, drawing the sweetest little squeak from your already open lips. You knew he would be better than the guys you’ve been with before, but not like this. He hasn’t even touched you yet.

Jake’s lips seem to pinpoint each and every nerve ending in your chest, sucking and licking at your skin through feverish kisses. The tenderness seeping away each time a breathy moan falls from your mouth, fanning out against his clothed shoulder. He pulls away from the top of your breast with his teeth, already knowing, in his years of experience, that that’s going to bruise.

Jake lifts his head, letting his eyes drift shut as you lean forwards and press your mouth to his neck. He can feel your nerves in your trembling fingertips, in the way your chest shivers when it brushes his, in the way your lips suck at his pulse point. But you’re doing so well. Dragging your lips along the length of his neck, biting softly at the skin just above his collarbone, feeling him shiver at the sensation.

“Off.” You demand, grabbing at the bottom of his t-shirt, feeling him grin against your jaw. He complies wordlessly, grabbing at the back of his shirt and yanking it over his head.

You’ve seen Jake shirtless plenty of times, wandering around his property or opening the front door without shame. You’ve always wondered what those muscles, that dusting of golden chest hair, would feel like up close. Forgetting that you’re being watched, your hands explore his toned torso. The line down the middle of his stomach, the sharp divide of his collarbones, the swell of his pecs.

“What’re you thinking?” Jake asks, brushing your hair back from your face tenderly, concern coating his features.

A bashful smile spreads across your cheeks as you watch your fingers ghost along the thick muscle of his shoulder. “That you’re really hot.”

Jake breathes out a chuckle, reaching up and grabbing at the back of your neck to cradle you against him as he pushes up from the couch and turns quickly, planting you on your back and covering your body with his.

“That smile is gonna get me in big trouble, sweetheart,” Jake wastes no time in pressing his mouth to your stomach, holding you by your waist as he sucks filthy kisses into your skin to mark his path downward. “You know that?”

“I know.” You answer back, just to tease him this time. Jake stops at your waistband as you giggle, looking up at you through hooded eyes with a devilish grin on his face. He drags his teeth across your hip, hooking his fingers into the sides of your shorts and tugging them down your legs.

“God, honey, you weren’t wearing panties this entire time?” Jake exhales, eye-level with the most intimate part of you and completely unashamed. Your mind fumbles for an answer, lips getting into position to finally respond when he leans forwards and licks a stripe through your soaked core. Then, he moans. His hands grab fistfuls of your soft waist and he goes in again, lapping hungrily at your excitement, groaning against your sensitive skin.

“O-Oh… Jake.” Your voice trembles, knees trying to press shut around Jake’s broad shoulders. He grabs firmly at your thigh, closing his lips loosely around your clit, flicking his tongue over the sensitive bud and making you jolt against him.

“Yeah, honey?”

“That feels really fucking good.” You tell him, closing your eyes finally.

“Attagirl. Just hold on, girlie, I’m gonna get you there.” He promises without once diverting from his apparent mission. If he’s as devoted to the Navy as he is to making you cum at this exact moment in time, the military is lucky to have him. You’re soaked, excitement pooling between your legs. Jake already knows he’s going to spend tomorrow cleaning this couch, and he wishes he cared enough to make better decisions.

“Look at this,” Jake breathes out as his gaze falls back down to rest between your legs. He couldn’t care less about the fucking couch. You swallow hard, practically aching for his touch. You’ve waited so long already. His index finger dips between your folds, his brows raise as he gathers your excitement on the tip of it. “Making such a fuckin’ mess for your old man’s best friend. Dirty fucking girl.”

He can’t see the way his words make you grin, but he can feel the way you reach for his hair and tug softly at those blonde roots, begging for more. He’s more than happy to give it to you. Jake groans against you, working his tongue in soft circles around the throbbing bundle of nerves. His eyes are still on you. Your eyes are closed — if you look him in the eyes then you’re going to get all embarrassed, and you’ll be damned before you let someone ruin how good this feels. Especially not yourself.

Jake’s hand trails up your naked torso, pawing at your rising and falling tits as you pant into the chilled air, sweat beading on your skin.

He’s gentle between your legs. More gentle than he could be. Pressing his stubbled mouth firmly against your core and working his tongue against you, each languid movement making you keen into him. The tip of his nose bumps your clit periodically. It feels like your head is spinning.

Dragging his mouth back up to your sensitive, throbbing clit, his free hand slides between your legs, he dips the tip of his index finger into you, then slides it in up to the knuckle and curls. Just testing the waters. It’s enough to earn him a moan, enough to have you grab a fistful of his short blonde hair, ensuring that he doesn’t get ahead of himself and lose pace with his mouth.

He slips his ring finger into you alongside his middle whilst his tongue works confidently along your core and back up to your clit. He lets go of your thigh and rests his forearm across your stomach, keeping you nice and still for him. Maybe he should feel ashamed of himself for how much he’s enjoying this.

All of those times he enjoyed the sound of your laugh, and sat with the afterthought of how much he’d enjoy the sound of your moans. It’s hard to be ashamed when it turns out he was right.

He scissors his fingers inside of you, making you gasp louder this time, pulling against him. You tug at his roots, he moans against your clit. You both shiver, and not because of that now thundering storm. Jake’s tongue flattens as he drags it along your core. He pulls his fingers from you and puts them immediately to work, taking over the pace on your clit, burying his face between your legs, curling his tongue into you.

Jake growls against you, his cock growing now uncomfortably hard in the confines of his sweats and his fingers and mouth switch places once again. After all the time he has waited, he doesn’t deny himself the pleasure of looking up at you, writhing at the feeling of him between your legs. All that does is make his sweats feel even tighter again. His fingers fuck into you mercilessly, curling and twisting, making you keen into his touch and arch your back and gasp all at once.

You cum with his name on your tongue and your fingers in his hair. The comedown feels like weightlessness. Jake doesn’t bother to ask if that’s the first time a man has made you feel like that, the adoration in your eyes as he comes in to kiss your mouth tells him everything he needs to know.

His mouth tastes like you, his chin is wet with your slick and his cock is straining against the grey cotton of his sweats, pressing in to your stomach. Jake’s fingers brush your hair back softly from your forehead, a sudden calmness in the green of his eyes as he studies the peaceful euphoric smile on your face.

“We don’t have to go any further—“

“Stop trying to be a gentleman.” You huff, lifting your head and kissing him hard, hooking your legs around his waist. Drawing him closer, you’re both painfully aware that the only thing stopping him from touching you is his sweats. “I want you.”

Jake pauses for a moment. Rain slams against the windows, and the television goes dark as it passes into standby mode. His hands squeeze softly at your waist, eyes darting downward at your naked body under his. He would be a damn idiot to say no to everything he has been fantasising about.

“You keep condoms here?” He breathes out.

Your eyes light up before him, gleaming with mischief. You give a confident nod of your head as a cunning little smirk spreads across your lips.

“There are some in my parents’ bathroom,” You can tell right away that he doesn’t like that idea, but that’s okay, option two was by far your favourite anyway. “Or, you could just cum in me. I won’t tell.”

“Jesus Christ.” Jake drops his head forwards to rest against your naked chest, panting out a dry laugh. His fingers bruise into your middle as he starts to consider the choices that have led him here. Once he feels composed enough to look you in the eye again, he lifts his head and squints seriously. “You did not just say that.”

“I want you to. I’m on birth control anyway.” Long gone is the nervous girl standing on his porch and asking him to fix her lights. There’s a devious, lustful look in your eye and Jake’s pretty damn sure there’s magic in that look. All he knows is that it could make him do just about anything you asked of him. “Please?”

Jake swipes his thumb along the curve of your jaw, studying the depths of your irises for just a moment. He leans forwards and kisses your bottom lip, sucking at the plush skin, pulling away with his teeth. You swallow as he sits back, pushes his sweats down his legs and frees his swollen cock. From under him, you’ve got the perfect view.

Every ridge and valley in those impossible abs, each follicle of hair that lines his tanned chest, trailing down below his navel and sitting neatly around his pubic bone, trimmed just as neatly as his navy-standard hair cut. His cock is a good size, considerable even when he’s got one of his large hands wrapped around its base. Wide too, throbbing red at the tip, bending just slightly to the left.

Just looking has your mouth running dry.

Fisting his cock, Jake sits back on his heels and lets his gaze fall down to your glistening core once again. He looks down at your pretty face, then lowers himself between your legs, pressing his chest into yours, kissing you dizzyingly hard.

“You want it?” Jake asks one last time.

“I want it.” You answer him, smiling softly back at him, squeezing your thighs around his hips.

You’re looking up at him with such trust in your eyes that Jake can barely stand it. His heart thuds in his chest as he guides the tip of his cock between your folds, hesitating just briefly. There’s already no coming back from this. There’s no way to make up for the things he has already done. You’re so special, and he wants this so bad.

Your mouth sucks softly at his throat, quiet, pleased sounds spilling from your lips as he grinds the tip of his cock against your sensitive clit. Jake kisses your shoulder softly, then lowers his head to rest there as he drags his cock down to your warm entrance. You gasp softly as he presses into you, pushing forwards until he’s buried and stretching you open completely.

“Oh,” You whimper against his earlobe, pressing your nails into the swell of his shoulder blade. “You feel really fucking big.”

“So fuckin tight.” Jake grunts, his throat thick with desire as he stills inside of you, thumbs bruising into your hips. “Sweet fucking girl. Feel like you’re made just for me.”

This makes you smile into the curve of his jaw, humming in soft agreement as he starts to slowly rock his hips. Lightning flashes outside of the window, and it doesn’t matter one bit. The rest of the world is a million miles away. In here, it’s just the two of you.

“Oh fuck,” Jake shivers, eclipsing your throat with his hand, pulling you in for a heavy kiss, licking into your mouth as he drags his hips back until it’s just the tip. You gasp sharply against him as he snaps his hips forwards until he’s buried into you completely once. “Fuck. You like that?”

“Yeah. I want it like that.” You whimper into his skin, hugging your legs tight around his hips. You moan eagerly against his lips, the sound catching in your throat as he squeezes at the sides of your neck and drives his hips forwards sharply, drawing an excited squeak from your parted lips.

Jake grunts, rocking himself into you hard and fast. He’s waited so long for this, and so have you. The way you’re clawing at his back makes him want to give it all to you. Leaving feverish kisses along your collarbones, he fills you over and over. You curl both legs tighter around his waist, leaning your head back as far as you can against the couch cushion to give his lips better access to your throat.

The living room is filled with the sounds of your sex. Your desperate moans, panting and hard. Jake’s pleasured grunts, muffled softly by the curve of your shoulder. His skin slapping yours. It smells like him, smoky and mature. Sweat beads along his back and his forehead as he keeps up that merciless pace, fucking you so hard that you couldn’t tell him your own name anymore.

Jake pulls back just enough to grab the backs of your thighs and pin them to your chest, hooking your knees over his shoulders, filling you even deeper than before, making you cry out.

“Jake!” You beg, babbling incoherently into the curve of his shoulder as he goes right back to the pace he set before. Fucking you hard and fast, scrambling your brain to the point that the only thing on your mind is the ravenous way he’s staring down at you.

Your walls are squeezing around him perfectly and the sounds you’re making are just driving him insane. It’s been a long time since Jake felt as crazy about someone as he feels about you. He pants into the crook of your neck as his fingers tug at your hair, making you moan out even louder.

“I’m gonna cum — fuck, honey,” Jake grunts out like he’s been punched, his eyes screwing shut as he reaches between your bodies and rubs uniformed circles around your clit. “Are you close? — Can you cum one more time for me?”

“Yeah,” You breathe out, already trembling as you squeeze your thighs tighter around him. “Just—“ You don’t have the words, so you just reach out and grab his hand. Jake swallows hard as you wrap his open hand around the column of your throat and look up at him with that big, trusting look in your eyes again.

He grits his teeth as he squeezes at the sides of your throat, watching your sweet face contort in pleasure. Your hand dips between your legs and replaces where Jake’s had been, rubbing feverish patterns on your clit. Your stomach tightens in knots, your breathing grows heavy and Jake’s cock drives into you at just about the perfect angle each time. You open his mouth to warn him, but it’s already too late. You couldn’t find the words if you tried.

All you can do is grab onto those thick shoulders and cry out his name against the salty skin of his neck. Jake slows just slightly, offering you some reprieve through your sensitivity. Trying to be a gentleman once again. The brain fog starts to clear, you lift your head and press your lips to your earlobe.

“Cum in me,” You pant out, grabbing his shoulder to steady yourself. Jake groans against your chest, nodding his head feverishly. “Just like that, Jake, please.”

He’s relentless, fucking your through the sensitivity of your post-orgasm haze hard enough that grabbing onto those broad shoulders is the only thing that keeps you down to earth with him. Jake groans desperately. He wraps an arm under your back and pulls you as tight against him as physics will allow. You gasp softly, taking your lip between your teeth as he fills you, his cock throbbing against your walls. He seeks out your lips and kisses you hard, somehow more desperate now.

“Fuck, honey…” Jake breathes out, pressing a lazy kiss to the curve of your jaw. He makes no effort to move at first. “You alright?”

“Better than alright.” You answer contentedly, a soft smile toying at your lips as lightning flashes outside once again. Jake chuckles tiredly, lifting his head and kissing your lips.

He sighs, moving slow as he slips out of you and looks down at his cum dripping from between your legs.

“Oh, shit!” You realize, sitting up quickly and trying to reach around Jake for something to clean it with. He hooks an arm around your waist and pulls you tight against him. Truthfully, from the moment that you had laid your head on Jake’s abs, you hadn’t thought once about the consequences of fucking him right here in this spot.

“Forget it, I’ll — I’ll fix this,” He tells you calmly, already regretting that he’s going to have to live with what he has done on this couch. “Come on, cutie. Let’s go take a shower.”

It’s clear that this is foreign territory for you. Not the sex, but what comes after. He didn’t get up and leave. He didn’t run away with regret for what he did. He ran soap across your body and found your pyjamas for you.

You swallow softly, walking to sit on the edge of your bed. Jake runs a hand along his stubbled jaw as he lingers in the doorway to you room. You can’t help but notice that he got dressed again. Including his shoes. He looks you over, sitting there in fresh pyjamas, staring at him with that worried little look on your face.

He hasn’t ever seen your room here. It’s probably the one room in the house he has never been in. He’s been wondering what it’s like.

But that isn’t why he’s standing there. He sighs softly and crosses his arms over his chest.

“I should go — I mean, Ace is over there by himself.” Jake says quietly. You nod at him. You should probably say something too, but truthfully, not all of your words seem to have come back into your mind yet. “Are you coming with me?”

“Huh?”

“Well, I don’t wanna leave you over here by yourself after that weird ass movie.” Jake answers you with a shrug of his shoulders. “I figured you could just spend the night. If you want.”

Your mouth twitches at the corners as you push yourself up from the edge of your bed, nodding eagerly at him. You’ve got eleven days until your parents get back in town, and Jake permitting, you’re planning on making the most of that.

…

#jake hangman seresin #Jake hangman Seresin smut #Jake hangman Seresin x reader #Jake hangman Seresin x y/n #Jake hangman Seresin x you #Jake Seresin #Jake Seresin fic #Jake Seresin smut #Jake Seresin x you #Jake Seresin x y/n #Jake Seresin x reader #dbf!Jake

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notapradagurl7 · 7 months ago

Text

Christmas Slump.

Black Fem! Reader x Lando Johnson.

Tv Show: All-American Homecoming.

Summary: You were spending Christmas with your friends, Cam, Simone and J.R. in your house, you had seasonal depression, they decided to help you and your boyfriend Lando wanted to see you.

Taglist: @lavnderluv @soft-persephone @harmshake @westside-rot @siqueth @liatreads @thecookiebratz @thecapodomme @mypointlessdays @keyera-jackson @satoruya @planetblaque @hxneyclouds @hoodbarbiesims @glitterperms @amplifiedmoan @avoidthings @judymfmoody @justhornyyme @life-in-the-slut-house @sageispunk @megamindsecretlair @sweettea-and-honeybutter @nahimjustfeelingit-writes @slippinninque @galaxybam2 @briathecreator @babybratzmaraj

A/N: happy holidays! currently going through some seasonal depression and decided to write it away, don't forget to leave a like, comment & reblog to support, feel free to ask for a request! ❤️

Warnings: +18, dirty talk, fluff, praise,( male receiving) mention of seasonal depression, protected sex, voyeurism, comfort, the reader being sad but was comforted, soft Lando, submissive Lando, AU where Lando and Simone never dated but remained friends,

—————

The tall green Christmas tree shone brightly of red, green, blue, white lights with the smell of warm Christmas sugar cookies wafting through the air while you sat on the light green suede couch, a mug of warm cocoa in your hand. Taking a sip from it and allowing the chocolate to seep into your tastebuds. The four walls surrounding you are painted in chocolate brown decorated with pictures of you and your friends.

Simone stood by the Christmas tree while decorating it, smiling at the decor. Until her eyes landed on you, a distant look in your dark brown eyes. She walked over and sat beside you.

Cam and J.R. were speaking to each other about his position in baseball and Cam with his music club.

Unfortunately, you were currently going through seasonal depression with classes expecting more of your effort, and the stress overwhelmed you.

Honestly, you couldn't wait for the New Year to arrive already.

Your knotless ginger box braids tied back in a ponytail with your melanated skin shone brightly under the recessed circle snapped lights, dressed in a toffee-colored sweater and black sweatpants, white socks and slippers on your feet.

Thankfully, Simone started a club where black women on campus could have a safe space, to vent about their problems and find solutions. They can feel safe and secure in it.

In the space of your house giving you solace, you were equable and had no problem telling your trustworthy friends about your problems. You were tired of putting on a brave face.

If you could immure the emotions completely and throw away the key, you would do it in a heartbeat.

Your emotions were important, as was your mental health and well-being, not only to you but also to your friends, including your boyfriend Lando, with whom you've been in a relationship for three years.

“Hey, are you okay, girl?” Simone asked softly, her face softened in concern while lips fell into a frown.

You shook your head, your face resting in your palm as you turned around to face her, she gently plopped on the couch beside you.

“The holidays haven't been so merry for me Simone, It's the classes, the stress and expectations of being perfect.." you admitted softly, your voice trailing off.

“I felt the exact same way when I was going through my treatment, tennis and trying to keep it together, as a black women we can have a safe space. Y/N”

You smiled at her words of encouragement, you stood up and hugged her tightly and she reciprocated the warm gesture. “Thank you, Simone,”

“Anytime, that's what I'm here for,” Simone reassured softly, her hand rubbing your back.

With the help of your friends, you danced to music, baked cookies, and binge-watched classic Christmas movies.

But a special someone else was missing in the picture, Orlando. He noticed that

A knock on the door caught your attention, taking a bite of the pink Christmas tree cookie in your hand before swallowing and folding it in a napkin. “I'll get it!” you hollered,

You hurried your way toward the door, when you opened it. There stood your boyfriend Orlando, with a warm smile and bags of gifts in his hand.

“Orlando! I missed you!” you exclaimed, pulling him into a hug just as tightly as he held the gifts.

“Surprise!” Lando exclaimed, stepping inside and wrapping his arms around you in a tight embrace.

Orlando hugged you back, as the gifts were taken by Simone, J.R. and Cam with gentle smiles toward you and your boyfriend hugging each other.

Hey beautiful, I missed you more,” Orlando smiled, kissing your forehead.

“Lando, you didn’t have to come all this way,” you said, your voice muffled against his chest. Your head lifted and looked up at him.

“Of course I did. I know you’ve been feeling down, and I wanted to be here for you,” he replied, pulling back slightly to look into your eyes.

The familiar scent of his cologne enveloped you, offering a sense of comfort that you hadn’t realized you missed so much. He closed the door behind himself and kissed your forehead sweetly.

You smiled at his words, feeling a flutter in your stomach. “You’re the best Christmas gift I could ask for,” you said, your heart warming at his thoughtfulness.

“Speaking of gifts I figured we could make this a little more festive,” Lando declared, winking playfully as his hand hold yours.

Simone, Cam, and J.R. peeked from the living room, their expressions shifting from surprise to delight. Giving their friend some dap and pats on the back.

“Lando! You made it!” Simone cheered, rushing over to give him a hug.

“Good to see you, man,” J.R. added, giving him some dap.

“Merry Christmas, brother,” Cam chimed in with a smile.

You resumed to watch movies, laughing and playing games in the company of your friends and boyfriend. Making the gloom fade away.

Afterward, you bid farewell to your friends and classmates, they walked out of your house, heading toward Cam’s car and drove away.

Finally leaving you alone with Orlando. He sat beside you with the gift he brought for you in his hand. “And this is for you,” He spoke warmly, handing you the present.

You raised an eyebrow, curiosity piquing as you accepted the beautifully wrapped gift adorned with a shiny red bow. "You really didn't have to, Lando. Just being here is enough," you said, your heart swelling with affection.

"Just open it," he urged, a playful smile spreading across his face. You grinned back, the warmth of his presence making the holiday gloom fade again.

With a flick of your wrist, you tore into the wrapping paper, revealing a sleek, simple necklace that sparkled under the lights. "Oh my gosh, Lando, it's beautiful!" you gasped, holding it up to admire the intricate design.

“I saw it and immediately thought of you, it reminds me of beauty and I want you to wear it and remember you're not alone, during times like these,” He

“Thank you,” you whispered, blinking back tears.

You felt a warmth radiate from your chest, and as you leaned in closer, your lips brushed against his.

The kiss was sweet at first, a gentle exploration that quickly ignited into something more passionate.

His hands found their way to your waist, pulling you closer as the kiss deepened. Your hands rested against his back. “Let’s head into my room,” you announced boldly.

The both of you stood up from the couch, made your way to your bedroom. You've been trying to become bold when it came to your desires.

Gently pushing him, his back touched the soft sheets of your bed, his breath hitched. “Someone’s getting bold,” he teased, his eyes on you hovering over him making his dick harden in his sweatpants.

“You good with this?”

“Let’s make this night all about us,” he promised, his hand trailing down your body. You could feel the tension melting away, replaced by a warmth in the room.

You undressed him carefully, he did the same for you, clothes littered across the floor. Reaching over the bedside dresser, grabbing the small box of condoms. You picked one up, as you looked back at Lando.

With a teasing glance, you let your hand trail down his thigh. You wrapped your fingers around him, feeling him grow even harder beneath your touch. “I'm gonna take care of you,” you moaned softly, moving your hand up and down his dick with a firm yet gentle grip.

His groans, muffled grunts filled the room, “Y/N, that feels so fucking good..” he groaned again,

Encouraged by his reaction, you picked up the pace, using your thumb to roll around his sensitive tip. “You’re so good to me, so handsome, so

Your eyes locked onto his, watching his face contorted in pleasure from your precise touch. “Right there, baby,” he praised, Every sigh, every mention of your name spurring you on, his hips pushing into your hand.

After teasing him, his thick jets of cum spurted out and poured down his dick and your hand, your tongue lick his dick clean and your hand. you gently slide the condom on his dick and hover over him again.

His hands gripped your hips and aimed his length at your entrance, sliding yourself down on his thick dick. Every inch filled you completely.

“Oh fuck..baby,”

Your hips moved at gradual pace, your hands rested on his chest, pleasure flowing through every part of your body. Your walls choked his dick tightly, his teeth dug into his bottom lips.

The room was filled with the sounds of your breaths mingling, the soft slapping of skin against skin, and the little gasps and moans escaping your lips. You could feel the pressure building inside you, the familiar knot of pleasure tightening.

As you picked up the pace, Lando's hands moved to your thighs, pushing you down harder against him. "That's it, just like that, You're taking this dick so well." he encouraged, his voice a mix of praise and raw need.

You leaned down, capturing his lips again, the heat between you two radiating off the bed as it creaked. Lando's fingers dug into your skin, guiding you as you found that sweet spot, the one that made your head spin. “Oh..fuckkk! Lando!”

He watched your cum ooze down onto his, your ass clapped against his pelvis,“I love it when you mess on my dick,” he moaned raspily, his eyes rolling back.

“Baby, I'm close,” he warned, his voice strained.

“M-me too,” you admitted breathlessly, the tension reached its peak. You could feel that familiar wave crash over, and you wanted to take him with you.

His thumb rolled your clit in circles, you screamed out his name, your body shaking underneath him and fell onto his lean body, your nipple brushed across his, his lip trailing along your neck.

“I love you,” he groaned in your ear.

“I love you too,” you panted heavily with a smirk.

You collapsed onto him, rolling beside his body. Both of you panting heavily as the room falls into a peaceful silence. Lando brushed a braids from your face.

“You okay?” he asked in concern, his eyes softening as he looked at you.

“Better than okay, Thank you for being here for me, knowing how to make me feel loved” you replied, a grin spreading across your pretty face.

Lando picked you up in his arms, carrying you to the bathroom, and settled in the warm water with soapy foam, cleaning the both of you clean.

Lando helped you out, changed into some comfortable attire for sleep, he changed the sheets and blankets, he laid by your side with blankets warm from the dryer. The lemon scent aired the fabric, Kissing your forehead lovingly.

Your heart lifting at the sight of him, his dark curls framing his face perfectly, his warm brown eyes sparkling like the lights on the tree behind you.

————-

#black!reader #black fanfiction #all american homecoming #lando x black reader #lando johnson #lando x reader #black writer #black christmas #martin bobb semple

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padmesweetheart · 3 months ago

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Spa Wars: The Ducky Awakens

Pairing: Hayden Christensen x Young Wife!Reader

Genre: Domestic Fluff, Humor, Romance

Word Count: ~3,100

You thought it would stop at the mist.

Truly, after Hayden recovered from the embarrassment of calling it “La Roach Pussay” (and muttering that he still didn’t “trust anything that sounds like bug coochie”), he got surprisingly into it.

He used his products nightly.

He asked questions.

He read labels.

He started bringing his own mini moisturizer on overnight trips. Voluntarily.

But then, it evolved.

It started small. A jade roller mysteriously appeared in the bathroom.

Then, a cute navy blue headband “to keep the product out of his eyes.”

Next came the double-cleansing, then the face masks, then the carefully folded microfiber towels labeled “FACE ONLY—DON’T USE TO CLEAN DONKEY FEET.”

Still, you weren’t too alarmed. He looked glowing. Dewy. Soft. Radiating peace.

Until you came home one Friday night and walked into a scene.

You opened the front door to the sound of spa music.

Actual instrumental zen spa music. Like, bamboo flutes and waterfalls. You blinked. Set your keys down slowly. The lights were dimmed. There were candles.

“…Hayden?” you called, cautiously.

No answer.

Only the sound of a tranquil stream and what might’ve been a whale song.

You followed it to the bathroom, hesitated, then pushed the door open—

—and froze.

There he was.

Your husband.

Wearing:

Your pink pajama set (with the little hearts on the cuffs)

A mint green sheet mask clinging dramatically to his face

Your fuzzy yellow duck slippers, the ones that QUACKED when you walked

A plush spa headband with a bow on it

And he was gently massaging his face with a rose quartz roller while whispering, “You’re doing amazing, sweetie,” into the mirror

You had never seen anything like it.

“…Hayden,” you said, blinking.

He turned slowly, mask crinkling slightly, duck slippers squeaking as he moved. “Oh. Hey, baby.”

There was no shame. No panic. No explanation. Just… complete confidence.

You stared. “Are you wearing my duck slippers?”

“They’re comfy.”

“They quack.”

“They motivate me.”

You squinted at the headband. “Is that a bow?”

“It keeps my hair out of the way while I’m gua-sha-ing.”

“Are you gua-sha-ing with my crystal roller?”

“I sanitized it,” he said calmly.

You just stood there, taking in the whole scene.

And then your eyes drifted downward… and paused.

You blinked again.

“Babe?” you said, voice mild.

“Yeah?”

“You know I can see your nuts, right?”

He stopped mid-roll. Looked down. Realized that your pajama shorts—very much designed for your hips and thighs, not his long-ass legs—had ridden up just a bit too far.

“…Goddammit.”

You broke. You howled.

“THE SHEET MASK! THE HEADBAND! THE QUACKING SLIPPERS! AND YOUR BALLS ARE OUT!!”

Hayden did a dramatic duck-waddle to the cabinet to grab a towel, which only made the quacking worse.

“You try finding comfort and coverage in women’s lounge shorts!” he protested, adjusting his dignity.

You were crying. Actual tears. Curled on the bathroom floor, wheezing.

“You were out here looking like a spa-day Bratz doll and a cautionary tale all at once!”

He crossed his arms—still sheet-masked, still squeaky-slippered. “This is self-care. You’re always saying I don’t take care of myself.”

“Not like this!”

“You literally bought me the serum of youth.”

“You’re using it with your whole nuts out, Hayden.”

“They needed hydration too!”

You shrieked.

Once you could breathe again, he helped you up and offered you a matching sheet mask, which you definitely didn’t say no to.

Twenty minutes later, you were both lying on the couch in matching sheet masks and fuzzy socks, the duck slippers resting on the coffee table like little spa bouncers, while Enya played softly in the background.

“I think I’m glowing,” he whispered.

You smiled, resting your head on his shoulder. “You are. Mentally, emotionally, and epidermally.”

He turned to you, mask crinkling. “You still think about the roach thing?”

“Every day.”

He sighed. “It’s never going away, is it?”

You kissed his temple. “Not a chance, sweetie.”

@skyguytoast @dessxoxsworld @endairachristensen26 @bxbyysstuff @inlovewithallmusic

#hayden christensen #hayden christensen imagines #hayden christensen drabble #hayden christensen x reader #hc imagines

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scentedpepper · 1 year ago

Text

Cinderellas Slipper

BILLY HARGROVE X MALE READER

Summary: Billy tries to apologize but loses his slipper instead.

Content Warnings: "Queer" used in a derogatory manner. Brief mention of Billy and Reader having sexual relations. Established Relationships/Lore

Other Pairing(s): Steve Harrington x Male Reader, Jonathan Byers x Male Reader, Will Byers x Male Reader, Nancy Wheeler x Billy Hargrove (implied not said)

AUTHOR NOTE(S):

Writing specific scenes that pop into my head is much easier than committing to an entire fanfic :p

Feeling kinda meh abt this one guys idddkkkk

Uhhhhh Billy is gay bc I say so

No but that headcanon really gets my writer loins spinnin

The depth

Anyway

Billy's a wee bit jealous

👍

_________________________________________

Billy's not sure what lead him to this point.

But the moment he steps out of his Camaro he has to pause, place his hands on his hips, and pace. Once. Twice. Three times for good measure before his attention is redirected to his destination.

Depot Central.

"Hawkins for the Family" Or so the sign outside had stated.

It's 4:30 in the afternoon, you've only been on shift for 30 minutes.

Three and a half hours to go.

Billy has memorized your schedule like the back of his hand.

The depot wasn't small by any means, but most of its stores closed at the latest of six due to its small town status. The depot itself mainly used the second story to hoard it's products, what couldn't fit through the windows displayed itself like an open antique shop on the 1st floor, the remaining area that couldn't be utilized by the display lay store merchandise.

This was the third time in a row he'd come back to the depot.

The first time he'd be stepping inside.

If the place had more customers he would've stalled a little longer, maybe considered another 3 rounds of pacing the parking lot but there was no one in front of him when he stood off to the side, peering through the windows.

His hands find his hips again, pressing agaisnt the brown leather belt adorning his dark blue jeans. It was new. He'd went out and bought it a few days ago. Even went as far as hiding between the aisles of the women's section trying to scope out style.

He didn't buy the pink or purple belt, regardless of how "nice" you said those colors were on him. Instead, by a random struck of luck that felt unwarranted, he'd found one even more perfect. One in which the gems were arranged in a way that made it look like the night sky.

Fucking space because you were into that shit or whatever.

Gemstones on top of silver. And Billy felt like a star on the belt, big and prominent.

Maybe that was wishful thinking. He couldn't really reject the feeling of suffocating when the gems shined in the sunlight through the window panes beside him.

Girly.

Feminine.

Queer.

Billy tries to ignore them and in the process, he considers ditching his clothing choices for today and giving in to his original idea. But even so, with all he's been through, Billy isn't really aware that the things he's learned from you have stuck this long.

He'd scrubbed himself raw in the bathroom just 30 minutes ago. And he made sure to perfectly place the top portion of his maroon button up that was peeled open. And he dabbed cologne on every inch of his body, just in case the amount he had initially put on wasn't enough. And while he was driving he made sure to keep the cigarettes in his dash because he knew the smell, reminiscent of your father, was the sole reason you had never picked them up throughout your teenager years. Not even to just try.

So once more, everything right down to his clean socks were an item of scrutiny. He even had spare deodorant in his car if he started to sweat.

And for what? He didn't fucking know.

The urge to repeat his pacing however came and he knew very well what that meant.

He was thinking about turning around.

But to make sure his body isn't going the opposite direction, he checks his front pockets where two cards were securely nestled in.

Dare Billy say he was almost scared.

He feels sweat starting to prick on the back of his neck, underneath his perfectly defined curls –he didn't even want to think about the measures he went to learn how to make them look so pretty– and he ducks back into his car, deciding he should just put the deodorant everywhere.

As he fumbles for the anti perspirant in his dash, feet sticking out of the car and body pressing against the middle console awkwardly, he realizes that he's almost forgotten the singular rose that he specifically taped to head of his passenger seat so he wouldn't forget it.

Quickly, Billy retrieves the rose and proceeds to rub himself down with the light spray of deodorant.

And despite his previous antsy nature, when he finally goes to walk to the entrance of the store, his face is the perfect mix between cool and ready. But his eyebrows are furrowed, a giveaway to the turmoil going on in his head.

Once the doors slide open, the chimes on top barely audible in the distance, Billy's face twitches ever so slightly when he realizes who is bent over the checkout counter, chatting you up, eliciting deep, rumbling laughter from your wide chest.

Steve.

Billy makes sure the displeasure is gone from his face with a blink of the eyes before he's approaching the two with nonchalant grace. He makes sure his gait is perfect and makes no noise against the flooring of the store, this way he can spy on your conversation from behind the taller shelves of canned food.

He listens close enough to pick up the murmurings of some new ice cream recipe you had apparently tried over the weekend with Will and Jonathan. Sounded absolutely disgusting to Billy. There was pecan and raspberry involved, as well as a hint of honey which would be fine if it wasn't inside frozen food.

But Billy found himself not really paying attention to the words being exchanged, moreso the tone.

Or, more importantly– how Steve said them. Emphasized certain vowels that he wouldn't unless he was in the presence of someone really close.

Just the thought tightens his grip on the small rose clasped tightly in between his fingers and he decides to finally make himself known by making a detour into the candy aisle beside the front desk, going over to get a pack of black liquorish and throwing the item down at the counter for you to ring up.

Your eyes fling up in startle, as though you hadn't noticed Billy at all until the very moment he slammed the unsavory candy on the counter, the plastic brushing a strand of Steve's hair on the way down.

Maybe it was a little bit of an overreaction, but he couldn't help it.

There were instances in which Billy acted purely upon instinct or impulse. Moments in which he let those feelings go to his head and not only let it manifest into words, sometimes that energy even moved his entire body without asking.

You had paused mid-sentence to take in the scene before you. How could you not?

Steve was dumbfounded. Not because the candy was an offense to his palate but because the intensity with which Billy pushed the packaged item towards you was a big one.

Steve moved away from the man looming over his shoulder, offended for his friend across the counter.

The first time Steve had walked in on you two, Billy wanted to kill him –almost killed him. Whatever he was about to retort would most likely have the same outcome.

Because it didn't matter how nicely Billy dressed or spoke to you, Steve could still see the shadow of Billy in his mind, a storm all his own lurking underneath flesh.

"We're still talking. " The brunette finally speaks up, motioning back and forth between himself and you.

Billy snorts and rolls his eyes, trying his hardest not to call the boy across from him something more obscene than asshole because he knows it would lose him any chance of speaking to you.

"You're a worker, right? " Billy plants his forearm on the counter, mocking Steve's pervious position.

"Work. " He spits.

You stare back at him pointedly, hands on your waist before you grab the item and run it across the scanner. A green light graces you skin and a beep fills the empty room.

"52 cents, sir. " You retort simply.

Sir.

"Sir?" Billy reels, face controrting into disgust. The word burned all over, and surely the older boy in front of him knew how much that word would affect him. He must've known that it'd make Billy Hargrove piss his pants.

You did.

But nevertheless, Billy pulls his wallet out and drops a five on the counter, telling you to keep the rest.

The plastic covering of the candy crinkles under your fingers as you lift it from the counter, passing it back to the blonde.

Your fingers brush beneath the packaging and all air seems to whoosh out of Billy's lung in response.

You meets his eyes in the middle.

It's silent for a moment.

–Save for Steve who's munching on the same type of candy just off to the side.

The blonde blinks, once, twice. His brows raising again like they had in his car. Billy can feel it, and he fights the urge to pull his fingers away but he doesn't, both of your hands just dangling there for a minute longer.

"Mm!" Steve chokes suddenly, wincing right after as the liquorish becomes a glob in his mouth and his body jerks backwards in discomfort.

It breaks the moment but Billy has an easier time collecting himself than his competitor.

"Steve. " You exclaim and you make a move towards him, patting your friends back with exaggerated aggression.

"I'm okay. " He rasps. "I'm okay. " He raises his hands up in the air but his words deceive him as he starts another fit of coughing.

After a minute or so of more gagging and choking and violent beatings on the back, Steve finally manages to swallow, with a loud groan of course.

You manage a laugh at the boys struggle, masking the noise the bell atop the door makes when it flies open.

And when you turn back around, half a grin still on your face, you're met with emptiness.

That, and a singular rose haphazardly placed on the counter.

#billy hargrove x reader #billy hargrove x male reader #stranger things #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x male reader #Jonathan Byers x reader #jonathan byers x male reader #will byers x reader #will byers x male reader #steve harrington #billy hargrove #billy hargrove is gay #jonathan byers #will byers #when i said i liked angst i didnt mean irl

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yuna-greecks · 4 months ago

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Why does Hannibal wear shoes indoors?

We all know that Hannibal is a clean freak and values tidiness a lot. So much so that it seems in many scenes like OCD or something really close to it.

So why does he wear shoes if it makes the house possibly dirty?

In many European countries it is normal to take off your shoes when you enter a house. (I'm European myself and most European countries I've been to, take off their shoes indoors). I have to admit I don't know how it is in Lithuania.

But in Italy it's common.

So why does he wear shoes indoors?

Hannibal lived from the age of 16 (I think) with his aunt and uncle. Lady Murasaki, his aunt, is Japanese. So I think she would value the tradition to take of your shoes at the entrance. (As far as I know, it's in Japan even more 'extrem' than in Germany. In Japan they have a entrance, that is lower than the rest of the house, so the shoes stay on the lower part that the dirt doesn't get onto the main living area.)

So why does he wear shoes indoors?

Hannibal as a clean freak, who is European, lived in France and Italy (where most take off their shoes) and a Japanese Aunt (where shoes indoors is also not a thing), would not wear shoes indoors.

So why does he?

I think it comes down to three reasons. Two in-universe explanations and one from a film makers perspective.

1. Manipulation

Manipulation of others on a subconscious level. Everyone is wearing shoes indoors in the US, so he does as well to not seem odd. Hannibal always does everything for his personal goal. So wearing shoes indoors is his way of fitting in.

He could ask his guests to take them off, but that could make them feel uncomfortable. Especially considering that his guests might not be wearing socks (women in high heels). And people are not used to it.

2. Aesthetic

It would clash with his aesthetic. I know it sounds weird at first but we can't forget who we are talking about. Like already said, he does everything for his personal goal and public image. He is really maticules about his appearance and presence. He wears the three piece suit even at home when he is alone. He puts up a show while cooking, even though noone is there. So he would obviously also continue wearing shoes indoors.

3. Filming

It's easier to film. That is more of an outside of the universe explanation but having an actor walking around in socks in many scenes can actually be dangerous. They could step on something or a set or part of it breaks and injure them, they could slip because the socks are too slippery or simply get cold feet and so much more.

The actors also might not like it. Being the only person without shoes on set, can get pretty weird.

So from a directors perspective it's understandable.

But I see one possible way, he could wear shoes indoors, while still keeping his house clean and stay true to his culture.

I could honestly see Hannibal coming home and changing from his shoes for outside, into the exact same pair but for inside. So he can still leave his 'dirty' shoes at the entrance and look normal to Americans. So him basically having every pair twice.

And considering that many wear slippers or something similar as shoes for inside, he could be wearing normal shoes inside as something similar to slippers. That would not clash with his aesthetic and he can maintain his spotless image.

I could also see him, wearing shoes only in specific areas. Like in his personal space where noone is allowed, he takes of his shoes. But the public space of his home, he wears shoes.

#nbc hannibal #murder husbands #hannibal lecter #hannigram #hannibal analysis #headcanon #fan theories #aesthetic #hannibal #fanibals #fashion #shoes

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queen-of-the-avengers · 1 year ago

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Still An Ass

Pairing: Loki Laufeyson x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~1.7k

Warnings: minor angst

Summary: All you want to do is lie in bed and watch movies on your day off, but your roommate goes and fucks it up. You’re pissed so he does the one thing he knows how to do well to apologize.

Squares Filled: spin the bottle (2023) for @lokibingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are greatly appreciated <3

Two types of popcorn? Check. Full mini fridge by your bed? Check. More blankets than you need? Check. Small fairy lights hung on your walls? Check. You have everything you need for a successful movie night. You can’t afford a TV so you have to settle for your laptop to bring you entertainment, which you don’t mind. This is enough for you.

This is your first weekend off in a few months and all you want to do is put on trashy gushy movies and relax. Mandy, your coworker, has been off on maternity leave so you and the rest of your coworkers are doing what they can to help cover her shift, and as a massage therapist, you’ve been getting more clients than you thought you would. You love what you do and you love helping people relax, but it’s exhausting sometimes.

This is your first weekend off in months and your obnoxious roommate is having a party outside your bedroom. Your laptop’s volume can only go so loud, and it’s not enough to drown out the thumping bass and ear-splitting chatter. If you wanted a fucking party, you’d go out. You could put on closed captioning but this isn’t how you want to spend tonight because all you do is compromise with Loki.

Yes, you live with the infamous Loki. He’s known all over town for being an egotistical dick who loves parties. When you applied for the apartment, you didn't know you were going to be rooming with him. Your friend helped you move off her couch and secured you a spot at this apartment building, and she put a listing online for you to get a roommate since you knew you wouldn’t have been able to afford it on your own. She promised to take care of everything for you so when you walked inside one day, you didn’t expect to see Loki lounging around on the couch shirtless.

Now you’re subject to whatever kind of parties he throws in your apartment knowing you work all the time. You shut your laptop and get out of bed in annoyance. You slide on your fluffy bunny slippers and storm out of the room. You’re immediately hit with sweaty bodies pressed against the wall, pounding music, and the smell of marijuana. The amount of people in your apartment is starting to piss you off so you go in search of Loki who has the power to shut this down.

The living room is worse than the hallway. People are doing body shots off each other, there is a game of explicit Spin the Bottle happening in the corner, and everyone is dancing close enough to consider it grinding. This is a bad case of all your high school dances all rolled into one. Loki is lounging on the couch with two women on either side of him who are practically begging for his attention.

This little shit. He knows exactly what he’s doing. You’ve been with his roommate for almost a year. The walls are thin. You hear him and every single one of the dates that he deems good enough to bring home. This man definitely knows what he’s doing in the bedroom which only pisses you off more. You’re not getting any and here he is getting all the action without even trying. He turns to face the woman closest to you and cups her jaw. He pulls her close and kisses her with tongue and you have to peel your eyes off him before you go over to him and sock him in the jaw.

“Loki!”

Of course, he can’t hear you. He’s too busy shoving himself down her throat, pun intended. You grab a stray red solo cup and throw it as hard as you can at Loki’s head. He pulls away from the woman and winces in pain even though you know it didn’t hurt him.

“Ow, what the fuck?” His eyes slide over to you and they immediately light up. The fucker even has the audacity to smirk. “Hi, darling.”

“Do you really have to have a party here? I’ve worked my ass off this entire week and I just want silence. Can you please take this somewhere else?”

Loki grins lazily and sinks back into the couch. All you want to do is slap that fucking look off his face and strangle him.

“Loosen up, love. Have a drink.”

It pisses you off more how attractive he is. When this lease is up, you’re getting your own place since you’ve saved up some money to afford something on your own for a little bit.

“You’re an ass.”

You storm off back to your room and Loki can’t help but chuckle at your pink slippers and unbelievably short pajama bottoms. Any hope of you having a quiet night with your movies is gone. When you got back to your room, you didn’t even feel like watching anything, and all of your snacks went to waste. You tried going to bed but the party lasted until four in the morning.

It’s not a surprise that when you woke up the next day, the entire apartment was trashed. You step over the fallen bottles of alcohol, careful not to trip as you make your way to Loki’s bedroom. Thankfully, he’s alone but he is shirtless. You’re not blind, he is quite an attractive man. However, you’re so pissed at him that you don’t see how hot he is. All you see is a personal punching bag.

“Loki!” You walk over to him and slap his chest but he doesn’t budge. “Wake up!” Loki must have drank a lot more than usual because he’s not waking up. “Fuck you. You fucking owe me, you bastard.”

You leave his room and begin to clean your apartment from top to bottom. It took a few hours of hard work but you got the place looking sparkling clean with no trace that there was any kind of party here. After throwing the last trash bag away, you pack a bag for a couple of nights because there is no way you’re staying here for the rest of the week. You leave a note explaining that you’re going to be sleeping at a friend’s house before leaving.

Loki turns over in bed and falls onto the floor having been right by the edge. He groans and opens his eyes, already feeling the effects of the hangover he knows he will have all day. He pushes himself to his feet and opens his bedroom door expecting to see heaps of trash and evidence of how badly he fucked up.

He scrunches his face in confusion when there is not a single spec of garbage in sight. He walks to your room and sees it neat as if you didn’t sleep here last night when he knows for a fact you did. He walks to the very clean living room only to see a note on the table.

staying at a friend’s for a few days

“Shit,” Loki sighs and crushes the note.

He really fucked up. He takes out his phone to call you but you don’t answer. That’s to be expected but he thought he’d try anyway. He’s not sure what friend you’re staying with otherwise he’d go over there in person.

The first day is spent with Loki calling you as much as he can. You kept sending him to voicemail until you blocked his number altogether. Any hope of him reaching you is now gone so all he can do is wait for you to come home.

On the second day, you wait until you know Loki isn’t going to be home so you can go and get a few extra clothes and other things you need. You’re still pissed at him and you don’t want to see his face otherwise you’d punch the shit out of it.

By the third day, your friend’s husband practically kicked you out. You get it, you wouldn’t want you there either but this means you’re forced to go back home. Your other friends either don’t have room for you or they are out of town. No matter, you’re more than happy to continue to ignore Loki at home.

He’s out with his friends by the time you get home from your shift, and you collapse on your bed tiredly. You don’t plan on sleeping for the night since it’s only six but as soon as you close your eyes, you’re out. You don’t wake up until the next day, a few hours before your alarm goes off. The smell of eggs and bacon sifts into your room, pulling you out of your lovely dream where you live alone and didn’t have an obnoxious asshole as a roommate.

You get up and pull on a cardigan before walking into the living room. The kitchen has an open plan so you can see exactly who is cooking. Loki is shirtless with his back to you and he's stirring something in a pot. You hold your head high and walk to the kitchen to grab some water when he scoops a spoonful of the food and turns to you with his other hand hovering below the spoon.

“Come here.”

“Not hungry,” you mumble.

“Y/N, come here.”

You sigh and walk closer to him with a stoic look on your face. He holds the spoon closer to you but you cross your arms.

“I said I wasn’t hungry.”

Loki tips your head back by two fingers under your chin and tugs gently so that your mouth parts open. He tips the contents of the spoon into your mouth, and a burst of flavor explodes on your tongue. Fucking hell. Of course, he had to be a good cook. You do your best not to moan at how good this tastes.

“I know I fucked up. This is my way of apologizing to you.” Loki pulls the spoon away but doesn’t move away from you. This is as good of an apology as you’re going to get from him so you don’t push it. “Tastes good, yeah?”

“You’re still an ass.”

“Yes, an ass that can cook. Sit down and let me feed you before you go to work.”

You turn away from him just as a smile forms on your face, not unnoticed by Loki.

“I’m still pissed at you.”

“I know,” he smirks.

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