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bunnys-kisses · 3 months ago

Note

HI HI omg this is my first request

Can I order a coffee with side of crostata and crème caramel served by 7x world champion Lewis Hamilton

And can the situation be they are both drivers and she pushed him of the track and won so after the race she avoids him until he catches her finally

Love the bakery btw 🫶🏼🫶🏼🫶🏼

bakery menu

want to submit your own order! then check out the menu! there are tons of options and i'd love for you check it out! as for this lovely anon! thank you for the submissions! you know i love a good rivals au, i eat it up!! so i hope you love it! enjoy!

crostata (“stupid slut, this is what you wanted huh? wanted me to fuck you like i hate you.”) crème caramel ("oh. you thought you were getting away from me?") + coffee (rivals au) served by lewis hamilton (formula one)!!

cw: smut/pwp, dom/sub, rivals au, driver!reader, mean!lewis, rough sex, driver's room sex, doggy style, unprotected sex, mean!lewis

you had been hiding since you pulled ahead in zandvoort, securing first place. you got past norris, you got past verstappen, and you even got past the seven time world champion, lewis hamilton.

maybe your methods were a little unconventional on the track, after all, you pushed lewis off the track as a meant to secure your spot. so currently the mercedes driver was upset with you.

so therefore you were avoiding him.

you and lewis had been rivals for close to two seasons. even if he was the seasoned veteran of the track. the top title holder with a model's face and the heart of an engine. and you were a little firecracker. you came onto the scene and drove like the devil himself was on your heels.

one the track, in the paddock or in front of the press. you were the first in a while to really give him a run for his money. while you weren't a beauty queen, the media thought you were their darling. when lewis accused it of amazing media training, you just smiled, "what's wrong hamilton, under my spell too?" and lewis wanted nothing more than for you to choke on his cock.

but, lewis was a good finder. and soon as you slinked through the empty paddock. everyone packed up for the night, you heard his voice, "is that the princess!" his voice echoed in your brain.

you swallowed and tried to start moving faster. but lewis had a wider stride and even if you tried to run. he would follow. after all, he wanted to see today's winner.

"there you are!" he said with faux sweetness in case there were any lingering workers. he grabbed you from behind and hoisted you around, "there's the winner! i was looking all over for you." you tried to make yourself dead weight so he'd let go of you, but when he whispered in your ear, your knees turned to jelly, "oh. you thought you were getting away from me?"

"hi, lewis." you swallowed.

his hand was spread across your chest. he could feel your racing pulse. he exhaled close to your ear and said, "oh, you're very funny for thinkin' that, love."

"it was an accident."

"no, no. don't lie. where's all that bravado. you look like you're going to pass out. what about the spell you had?"

"i'm sorry for pushing you off the track."

he kissed a kiss on the back of your neck, almost tender, "words mean nothing, love. can i trust you to walk about thirty feet to my driver's room? can you be a good girl for me?"

"lewis, can't this-"

"no." he said simply, "if this was about half an hour ago i would've driven us to my nice hotel and we could've even had dinner before i wrecked you. but not now, now you get to be fucked in the driver's room." his tone left you feeling hazy.

you tried to stand your ground with him, "they didn't call it, so you have no reason to be mad. you can't just pull those cheap seduction tricks and except me to fall for them."

his hands groped your ass and he said, "no, no. it's just the princess getting her special treatment once again. she can do no wrong." he kissed your neck once more, "can't let that ego get too big. because if you stop winning and the shininess of a female driver fades. they'll drop you. but i'll always have a place for you, love. right between my legs."

your stomach twisted, you felt a throb of heat in your chest. you said softly, "driver's room, right?" there was no escaping this.

lewis let go of you, but took you by the hand as an extra safety precaution. he even swung your hand like you were lovers as you walked to his driver's room. meanwhile you were mentally screaming.

you and lewis have had sex before. it was an open secret in the paddock, so much so the press had caught onto it. but it was all a flurry of rumors. there was no evidence, only word of mouth from the poor employees that caught you in the act.

you got into the room without much trouble. despite what many thought, the driver's room was the worst place to have sex. it felt like it was almost designed for driver's not to have sex.

it wasn't spacious, something about the furniture left it almost impossible to get intimate at a good angle. and that was where lewis was going to teach you a lesson.

lewis started to get undressed and expected you to do the same. he locked the door so there was no intrusion. if someone with a camera caught you, it would be international news.

then the press would talk about the eventually wedding and kids. and even the mere thought of it made you feel disgusted. being married to lewis, you had a career to go after. women to inspire! you couldn't be tired down to a man like lewis.

but yet he had you on the carpet, your hands above your head with your ass in the air. there was something domineering about him in that moment. the charming lewis, a true face of formula one, had you spread out on the carpet, ready to devour you.

you tried to get out of your clothes with your head pressed against the carpet. you kicked off your pants and struggled to get your panties off, briefly getting tangled in them.

lewis chuckled, "stuck there, love?"

you replied, huffing against the carpet, "i'm fine, i'm fine." you got out of your clothes and yelped when lewis smacked your soft ass.

"i have to admit." he said as he leaned back on his heels with his hard cock in hand, "you are very pretty. you could sell tickets with that face, but if you showed a little more. you could sellout tracks."

you arched your back and sighed into the carpet, "is that why you show all that skin online."

he leaned on top of you, his cock almost slipping in. he said, "no, no. i do those because i know you're looking. you still follow me online, love. i know you're watching and i like showing off."

you felt your heart skip a beat and you gripped into the carpeted floor, "fuck, lewis."

he pulled away a little and then rubbed the blunt tip of his cock up against your slick entrance. he said, "i know, i know. i'll make it all better soon." then eased into your pussy, which made you make the sweetest noises for him.

such a foe on the track, but when you were under him, you were a little lamb. you wouldn't hurt a fly. or push someone off the track.

he held onto your hips as he started to move. there was little time for introductions. the need to fuck was intense, it was causing your blood to run hot. you held onto the carpet and tried to meet his pace, but he kept it in a way that threw you off.

"you look good under me." he chuckled, his mouth was near your ear, he was keeping your top half pressed with the carpet. the material of it rubbed awkwardly against your breasts, leaving them a little raw from the movements.

"lewis. please, i'm sorry." you croaked.

he replied, almost softly, "i'll forgive you when you make me finish. can't be in a good enough mood to forgive when i'm hard as fuck." his lips trailed down your neck, and it made you shiver.

you whimpered a little, the feeling flooded your brain. the rush of feelings left you feeling hazy. your heartbeat felt distant in your ears as he continued to fuck you.

it was private, but it felt so public. someone with the right key could easily find lewis hamilton taking apart his rival. you were his favourite one, in a total honestly if he'd want anyone to beat him, it would be you.

but he'd never tell you that, he'd push you to your racing and sexual limits, leaving you gasping for more. flood that little head of yours with the reminder of how he made you feel.

you came and you had to cover your mouth so you didn't make so much noise. you didn't need to have people outside the room starting to get curious about what was going on inside. the feelings hit like a brick, a swift kick to you that left you aching. your noises, while muffled, made lewis want to fuck you harder.

you panted into your palms and arched your back. your eyes rolled back a little from the intensity. when you started to come down, lewis was still thrusting up into you. your noises were more passive as he continued to move against you.

"pretty girl." he said, "all fucked out under me." he shook his head a little, "i wonder what your team would think? having you spread out under me. no matter how many podiums you take, you'll never be me." he leaned forward, making sure every last inch was inside of you. he kissed the apple of your cheek and said, "i'll show you sometime, what a world champion trophy looks like." his voice was venomous and it bit at your lust riddled head.

"lewis."

"it's only fair." he curved your back a little more, getting at just the right angle, "it'll be the closest you ever get to one."

his harsh words made sparks in your head as you came once more. this time you sounded a little more desperate as you weren't able to cover your mouth. but that was enough for lewis, two heavy thrusts and he held onto you as he came.

you dropped your hips onto the floor and some cum ended up on the carpet. you panted wildly, not able to find words. but you could feel lewis' heated gaze.

he chuckled a little and rubbed his eyes, the feeling was intense even for him. he could feel the blood rush in his body, like when he raced. he said, "this is how i like you. all fucked out and not causing me problems on the track."

you made a small noise, your tongue unable to produce words. next time, think about running one of the greatest off the tracks. <3

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sleepyangelkami · 11 months ago

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hey, I want to request a long one shot about ellie x cheerleader!reader, but ellie is like a type of emo? idk, she just use very dark clothes, accessories and she's grumpy, meanwhile the reader is the opposite, she is popular and social (she's not mean). strangers to very close friends (also about the social rejection that Ellie had). and it ends with rough smut (lmao sorry, I'm begging)

FUCK THE CHEERLEADERS e.williams

☆ WORD COUNT - 7.8K

ELLIE WILLIAMS X FEM!READER

☆ SUMMARY - for as long as ellie's known she's hated just about everything and everyone. she hated the school she went to and the people in it. and she hated those prissy cheerleaders. what happens when one of them starts changing her mind?

☆ WARNINGS - slight abby anderson x reader (briefly mentioned), smut, slowburn, dom!ellie, sub!reader, mean!ellie, manhandling, fingering (r. receiving), oral (e. receiving), scissoring, squirting, rough sex, slight loser!ellie, praise kink, overstimulation, dirty talk (mmm), jealousy sex, slight innocent!reader?, swearing, smoking, getting high, lowk bullying, ellie is an abby!hater (i'm sorry.), homophobia, petnames, use of y/n, intended lower case, nothing i write is ever proofread 🩷

ellie williams hated just about everything in the world, it seemed. it was as if a scowl had been engraved on her brows as she walked through the halls of the school. she hated a lot of things, she hated this school. but more importantly, those damn cliches. those jocks and their stupid cheerleaders hanging underneath their arms, it made ellie sick, it made her scowl deepen.

it wasn't unusual for ellie to be clad in her black beanie, black hoodie and black ripped jeans. what could she say? she liked black. with her sketchbook sitting underneath her arm and her backpack hanging from one shoulder, she managed to make her way towards the east end of the school, where her ugly red locker lay. "why the long face?"

the voice had belonged to dina woodward who stood next to jesse (does this man have a last name?) they were both hand in hand next to ellie's locker. the three had lockers next to one another, had since freshman year. the two may have been the only two people ellie tolerated at all. they were her best friends. even so, she found herself scowling at the way their hands were intertwined.

"stupid fucking cheerleaders." already, jesse was rolling his eyes while the girl forced her locker open, this wasn't the first time he's heard that. "thinkin' they run the school, give me a break with their fucking pom poms and the skirts up their asses―"

"we get it ellie." jesse rolled his eyes, shutting his locker door. "what'd they do this time?"

ellie hated the jocks enough but she knew that at least they took pride in being assholes. but the cheerleaders? they walked around school with no consequences, wearing a sugar coated smile that made them look like nothing short of angels. they hid behind the facade of being good people. at least the jocks could admit they were dickheads. the cheerleaders pretended to be something they weren't. and for some reason, it made ellie hate them even more. "what do they ever do." she mumbled. "'here's lessie williams on!' 'draw anything new today williams!' 'let us see inside your sketchbook williams!'" she fawned a high pitch voice. "Like god! it was freshman year can't anyone get over it!"

dina and jesse were conscious of the couple people that had turned their heads to look at them but they knew that one sharp glare from ellie and they'd turn away again.

you see, in freshman year nobody really knew ellie. sure, they knew her but they didn't know her. she was quiet, always sat in the back of the classroom, always scribbling something down on a piece of paper or in her sketchbook. the one thing that brought her joy, the one thing she actually enjoyed doing was drawing.

and they ripped it away from her.

stupid stephanie meadows, who, in all her glory, decided to rip the sketchbook out of her hands and show the rest of the cheerleaders what the girl had been drawing. she had meant it as harmless teasing, ellie was sure. but the girl just so happened to be drawing some... female anatomy.

then birthed the name lessie williams.

she hated those damned cheerleaders ever since.

"i'm really sorry, ellie." jesse wore a sympathetic look as his brows furrowed lightly. there really wasn't anything they could do. they would stand up for her but that'd only drag them down. ellie understood this, she didn't expect anything from them. "that sucks."

but ellie didn't respond to his sympathy or his pity, merely slamming the locker door shut. "man, fuck the cheerleaders." her infamous catchphrase. she wore it out, used it every single time those damned cheerleaders were around. every time, there was venom laced in her voice. she didn't just hate them, she loathed them entirely.

but as soon as the venomous words slipped from her mouth, there was a sound of honey laughter that invaded her ears. "hi, dina!" there you stood, a sweet smile attached to your lips as you passed the three. you had two maybe three folders tucked in your arms, light purples and pinks with your name in big writing. y/n l/n.

"hi, y/n." it was merely a greeting in passing but ellie's blood boiled. her eyes fell on your outfit. your cheerleader outfit. the outfit was black and white, long sleeved but tight, showing off all of your curves and giving you all the attention that you didn't want. your skirt was short, too short, flimsy material showing ellie all that she shouldn't see. you had a light pink bow sitting at the top of your half up half down ponytail, curled hair falling behind your back. the colour of the bow matched your cheer leading shoes which were white but had pink stripes through them along with your baby pink leg warmers. you were the only cheerleader with a bit of colour.

you left ellie's sight as soon as you came, she turned to dina with a look of poison in her eye. "what? are you guys friends now? you gonna join the cheer squad?"

jesse took a step back, muttering something about not getting involved. he was well aware of what happened last time. ellie's wrath was not something you wanted to get involved with. "no, ellie, i'm not going to join the cheer squad." dina was rolling her eyes over the stupid encounter. "she happens to sit next to me in biology and i was saying hello."

"yeah, to y/n fucking l/n." everyone knew who you were, the prissy cheerleader who always wore smiles for everyone she met. often times being tucked under the arm of the captain of the girl's soccer team, abby anderson.

dina wasn't having it. "she's never actually said anything to you, ellie, she's never even been there when it happened and i'm sure if she was, she'd say something about it. she's really nice once you give her a shot."

ellie could have laughed in dina's face. "you're kidding." she was a cheerleader. "they're the same, every single one of them." and could you blame the girl for being so defensive? after all, it was her that got the horrid bullying and harrasment for so many years, not dina, not jesse, ellie. they didn't know what it was like to be in that ring of fire, they hadn't the slightest idea. "you know what, fuck this, i'm going to class."

dina was rolling her eyes. "ellie!" but the girl didn't turn around, holding her bag and her sketchbook close. "ellie, c'mon, don't be like this!" but she never spared her a glance.

jesse puffed out a breath. "just leave her." he mumbled to the girl next to him. "she'll be back."

and she was back. she was back before lunchtime. you see, that was the thing about having little to no friends. for ellie, dina and jesse, it didn't matter what was going on. whether dina was arguing with ellie, whether jesse and ellie were in a scuffle, whether dina and jesse were on their hundredth break. truth was, they only really had eachother. so, no matter what was happening, their lunch times were spent together at their separate round table in the cafeteria.

ellie was picking at her food when she saw her again. when she saw you.

you were walking up to their table sort of nervously, toying with your sleeves. ellie's expression immediately faltered. "is she walking over here?" dina and jesse looked up, glancing to you who had so many eyes on you. ellie could see the table of jocks and cheerleaders all staring at you, they simply couldn't take their eyes away. "she better not be fucking walking over here, she's not sitting―"

"ellie." dina whispered harshly as she shoved her foot forward, hitting ellie square in the calf. she winced, holding in the pained cringe.

"uhm, hi." you glanced back to the group of cheerleaders that were all staring. sometimes, you wished to be invisible, it was like there were always people watching. you felt like an actor on a stage and constantly having an audience. "dina, i was wondering if i could talk to you."

when you'd uttered the words, you sort of assumed dina would get up and walk with you. at least you hoped she would. you got the feeling that her friend didn't like you, the death stares she was throwing you, the glares that were burning into your head. not that you understood, though, you didn't even know her name.

"yeah, sure." she shoved to the side, allowing room for you to sit down. you awkwardly looked at the spot between her and her brunette friend wearing a black hat. the girl had looked away since you brought yourself over to the table. "guys this is y/n." she introduced as if they hadn't known who you were anyway. "y/n, this is jesse." he gave a smile to you to which you couldn't help but smile back softly. "and... ellie." she didn't lift her head. "ellie." she kicked her underneath the table once more.

ellie lifted her eyes, sending a glare your way before turning her head back down. you frowned but kept quiet. you didn't understand why the girl didn't like you but who were you to judge, you can't change how someone feels about you. besides, she didn't know you, you still had time to get her to warm up to you. perhaps she was like that with everyone.

in a way, she was.

"I was wondering if i could borrow your biology notes again over the weekend?" you had hopeful eyes, a little sympathy in them. "i'm sorry, i know i've asked like three weeks in a row now, i just really need to get this done." you had been attempting to rewrite all of your notes since the start of the year, you had realised how much you'd fallen behind in biology after you took cheerleading a bit too seriously.

dina waved you off, a big smile stretched on her lips. "yeah, no worries, you can drop by saturday?"

you grinned up at the girl. "yeah, i'll swing by after practice." practice. ellie could feel another eye roll coming on. "thank you so much." you began getting up from your seat next to the girls.

there wasn't much room, your leg brushed against ellie. you expected her to retract with a hiss as if you'd burned her, as if you were carrying a plague. instead, she froze. she didn't look disgusted, nor did she look happy, she didn't look much of... anything. she just froze.

in ellie's mind, she was cursing herself. if another pretty girl had brushed up against her, she would have smirked and leaned into it. she was cursing herself because she almost had. for a second, she forgot who you were. she forgot that the only reason she could feel the smooth skin of your leg was because of that stupid uniform.

"it was nice meeting you both." you smiled, mostly to ellie. you thought if you showed off your pearly whites she may see that you mean no harm.

when she didn't look up again, you sighed before leaving. what was so wrong with you that the girl hated you so much?

𝜗𝜚

ellie didn't need a fucking math tutor.

that's what she'd been telling herself for the past thirty minutes. she had been in her car, a rusted up van given to her by joel, passed down onto her. mr. gray had told her that she was flunking math and with the grades she was getting, if she kept them up he'd have to choice but to hold her back.

she couldn't risk that. so, he got her a tutor. at first, she got angry, stating that there was no need, she didn't need a tutor. she'd figure something out by herself. maybe jesse or dina could help her? but the man assured her that even they were only a mere average. he'd arranged a date for the first tutoring session at the local coffee shop, he stated that the tutor was the smartest kid he had ever taught. at least in math.

when she heard that you were her tutor, she downright flipped out.

yet, here she was in her van, stuffing the text books that lay on the seat back into the bag and opening the door. she couldn't afford to stay back, she'd have to make it work.

even if that meant you becoming her tutor.

she could imagine it now. you'd run thirty minutes late and be sat in the front of a fancy car, a porsche or something and you'd sit her in the darkest corner of the coffee shop.

yet, as she walked in, ten minutes early, you were already sat there. you were clad in a light jeans and a large woollen sweater, an off white, kind of brown. it was odd not seeing you in that uniform of yours. ellie awkwardly found herself ordering a coffee, her eyes drifting off to you. you had a couple text books open, notebooks too with a glass sitting next to you, pink straw peeking out.

"uh, hi." the sound of her voice caused you to jump before turning around to see her, smiling softly. she did not return the smile, sitting herself down at the booth you were in. right next to the window, the place that received the most light in the entire coffee shop. "you're early." she commented, mumbling beneath her breath a "probably cause of the porsche."

at the sound of your honey laugh, she looked up. your smile was wide and you shook your head. "no, i took my bike." you nodded outside the window to the little turquoise bike that sat in front of the cafe, little basket sitting in the front. "left the porsche in my garage." the sound of the joke nearly had ellie's lips curling upwards. nearly. she stopped herself. "uhm, we don't have to start just yet, you know, cause we're both early."

ellie barely muttered out an "alright." before setting her books on the table.

"what're you drinking?" you questioned quizzically.

"huh?" she glanced to the coffee cup next to her.

you shrugged your shoulders. "I think you can tell a lot from a person by what they drink. mine's a frappe, no coffee." your smile was a little lopsided. "makes me too hyper. what about you?"

"coffee." she deadpanned. "black."

"that's nice." you shuffled around awkwardly at a failed attempt of soothing down your own embarrassment. "you come here often?"

"look." ellie wasn't in the mood for your chit-chat, or anyone's for that matter. but you just so happened to be the one sitting in front of her at that given moment. "we don't need to do this whole small talk thing, i'm here 'cause i'm flunking math not because i'm trying to have it on with abby anderson's little girlfriend."

your brows furrowed, a little taken aback. "I'm not her girlfriend." you mumbled. "let's just get started, then." and so you pushed the chunky text book her way.

a couple moments passed you by. it was almost complete silence as you looked over the sums ellie had done. she was strumming the pencil against the table and waiting for you to finish. when you did, you wore a sloppy grin. "you got 'em all right." you spoke, pride in your voice. "well done, they were really hard." they weren't hard, ellie knew that. they were the basic sums, the easy ones that would soon lead into all the algebra she could never understand. but you were trying. really trying.

you gave her a couple more on the next chapter, awaiting her finish as you read through your own notes. she noted the fact that you didn't take out your phone to flick through your messages, or sigh loudly looking at the clock. there wasn't any rush or pressure.

she felt her insides twist a little. perhaps she was being a bit harsh earlier. "every saturday." she mumbled catching your attention, you hummed in question. "every saturday at one o clock, i come here... to draw."

your eyes lit up a little. "you draw?" ellie's heart stuttered. you didn't know? if you didn't know she drew then could it be possible that you hadn't heard the stephanie meadows situation at all? could dina have been right when she said that you truly were different?

"uh, yeah." she murmured, too busy thinking over the situation. what was happening? "yeah, i draw."

by the end of the session, you'd learned not much more about ellie other than the fact that she really did need this tutoring. perhaps it was a good thing she had been paired with you and not someone else. you knew that if you were working with ellie, patience was required.

you were walking out the door together when the bell dinged slightly, you had to go one way to get to your bike, she had to go the other to get to her car. "ellie?" she turned, hands in her pockets and satchel sitting on her shoulder. "could i get your number?" her brows pinched together and you almost slapped yourself for the way her face scrunched up. "don't look too excited, i mean for the next tutoring session, mr. gray isn't gonna set up any more for us."

"uh, yeah." she fished into her back pocket, grabbing out a pen. "do you have a piece of paper?" You merely shoved your sleeve up, handing her your arm. she looked at you quizzingly before scribbling down the digits onto your arm. "Just... delete it after."

you pressed your lips into a thin line. "wasn't planning on keeping it."

𝜗𝜚

ellie was fucking furious.

her feet were practically stomping up the driveway of dina woodwards house as she shoved her fist against the door, harshly pounding on it.

a confused and concerned dina met her eyes soon after, she opened the door and the girl allowed herself in. "them fucking cheerleaders, dina! i'm gonna kill them! i'm gonna fucking kill them!"

"wha― ellie-" dina had seen ellie angry like this countless times, always mouthing on about those cheerleaders and how they're dead if they do something again. she never did stand up for herself.

"you know and you're the one who told me she was different!" dina looked at her with confusion laced in her eyes. "she's just another one of those fucking cunts! fuck the cheerleaders, they're all the fucking same! she's nothing but a bitch―"

"ellie!" dina had cut the girl off. ellie turned around to see you. you were standing with the biology notebook in hand while a gear bag was slung across your shoulder, dressed in your cheerleaders outfit from head to toe. the mere sight of you, of the clothes reminded ellie exactly why she hated you. all of you.

"you." she gave a sneer to the girl. "you told them where i was, didn't you?" you backed up, giving dina a confused and scared look. what was she talking about? "you told them i'd be at the fucking coffee shop and did you see what they did to my fucking car?!" outside the living room window you could see ellie's van pulled up, covered in some kind of a liquid. milk? yoghurt? coffee?

"I d-didn't―" you were backing away from ellie, confused and hurt. had she really thought you'd be behind something like that. "who―"

"who is it ever? stephanie fucking meadows, you're just like her. you know, i actually thought you might have some human decency but i was right, behind all that fucking prissiness, all the smiles and high fucking ponytails, you're all just a carbon copy of each other." you were staring at her in disbelief. "I told you i go there every saturday at one o clock, who shows up? i know you fucking told her!"

"I didn't!" was your feeble argument.

"yes you fucking did!" ellie's hands had come to the top of your arms, shoving you slightly. but she was much stronger than you were, you stumbled back lightly.

"ellie!" dina was grabbing ellie's own upper arm, dragging her away from you. "are you fucking insane?" ellie's pupils were blown wide. "if she said she didn't do it, then she didn't fucking do it, okay?"

"I'm, uhm―" your eyes looked elsewhere. "I'm gonna go, thanks dina." and you were fleeing the scene.

not seconds later did the front door burst open again, jesse running in panting. "ellie, i am so sorry." ellie and dina looked at him in confusion. "stephanie told me that if i didn't tell her where you were, she was gonna revoke my place on the soccer team and you know the coach is her dad. I didn't have any other choice."

dina was glaring at ellie, a sick look in her face. "looks like you owe someone an apology, doesn't it."

ellie was breathing through her nose.

shit.

𝜗𝜚

ellie was standing at your front door, wrapping her knuckles against it. she had this look on her face making it plain obvious that this was not something she wanted to be doing. you had your location on your phone which is the only reason ellie was able to see where you lived. and how were you going to feel when the girl that just laid hands on you showed up at your front door?

the door opened to reveal you, now dressed in a shorts and tank top. you looked at her expectingly. "uhm, yes?" she didn't miss the way you practically hid yourself behind the door.

she glanced at her own dirtied converse trying to piece together what she was going to say. "i know you didn't tell stephanie where i was." and then there was the mumble of, "I'm sorry."

you blinked at her. "you are?" you got the feeling that sorry wasn't something ellie williams said a lot. and it wasn't, the words were barely even in her vocabulary. yet here she was, apologising on your doorstep, to a cheerleader. you had the effect of making her do a lot of things she couldn't see herself doing.

"yeah." kicking one of the pebbles on the ground. "I am. i shouldn't have yelled at you and i especially shouldn't have laid hands on you." god, what had she been thinking? it was as if she was looking to start a fight with you. with you. ellie had been in a multitude of fights before. but you? nothing but a sunflower.

"It's okay." you pressed your lips into a thin line. you watched as ellie's head snapped upward. it was? "they shouldn't have done what they did to you. you were upset, i get it." you knew stephanie could be a lot of work, you were shocked when ellie had told you but at the same time, you weren't necessarily surprised.

"yeah but i took it out on you." and she shouldn't have, she really shouldn't have.

you shrugged your shoulders, a small smile stretched to your cheeks. "happens to the best of us." but ellie was sure, cheerleader or not, you were an angel in disguise.

she could have walked away then and there, she could have told you that she was thankful for your forgiveness and left. that was the plan, anyway. to leave, she didn't think she'd end up sticking around much longer. she didn't think you'd forgive her in the first place. but then she saw that pretty smile on your face, the way you didn't look at her all disgusted and scared, the look everyone else had been giving her her entire life. it was almost like you looked at her and she meant something. this is what urged the next words to leave her mouth.

"do you wanna go get ice cream?"

sitting in the back of an ice cream parlor with ellie williams was not on your saturday to do list and yet here you were, licking your vanilla ice cream. "i can't go back." the girl uttered. she'd gotten chocolate ice cream and given you a weird look, stating that you were nothing short of 'basic'. "that coffee shop was my place." she groaned, putting her head in her hands. "this is shit." the situation, she meant, the icecream was amazing.

you were squirming on your chair, wondering if you should speak your mind or keep it contained. fuck it. "you know, if you wanted..." her head looked up at you, all nervous and shy. "we could maybe come here on saturdays, you could draw, if you wanted and i could do like homework or something." you blew the air from your cheeks. "that way if someone comes in they won't give you a hard time 'cause you're with me. not that i'll tell anyone we're here."

ellie couldn't help the way her lips tugged upwards. she was staring.

"what?" you let out a breathy laugh.

she shook her head. "you're just not at all what i thought you were."

and that was how it began.

every saturday ended in you and ellie sitting in that ice cream parlor. usually, it began after practice so you were still dressed in your cheer uniform, it ended when the sky was dark and the ice cream place was closing.

you began spending an awful lot of time with ellie. sitting with her and her friends at lunch or even inviting her over some days that it was too cold or too rainy for the ice cream parlor. in doing this, you sort of pulled away from that whole 'clique' that you were in. you couldn't of been happier.

that led to now.

it was one of the days in the summer that was sort of cold so you and ellie decided against ice cream. she was sat across your bed on her stomach, doodling little things into that sketchbook of hers. "els?" she hummed, not looking up. you had called her the nickname accidentally one day but it sort of just stuck after that. "can i ask you something?"

she groaned slightly as she closed her book. "you know i hate it when you start all vague like that." you had been skipping your way over to the bed seeing as you were sitting at your desk beforehand, trying to focus on biology. oh, how you hated the subject.

you sat yourself down next to her, giving her those doey eyes. this couldn't be anything good. "I know, i'm sorry." you mumbled sheepishly. "and i know it's not exactly your thing but i was wondering if maybe you'd... you don't have to i just― if you'd like― would you want to maybe..."

ellie had to chuckle at your nervousness. you were so squeamish and shy at times. she wondered what other times you acted like this. squirmy and struggling for words. "spit it out, angel." those silly names had started a couple weeks ago when ellie 'accidently' said one just to see your reaction. but when your face turned beat red, she couldn't help but continue.

you sighed, placing your hands in your lap. "so, the last game is on saturday and you know, i'm kinda required to go and i obviously wanna spend time with you to so i was wondering if you maybe wanted to go?" scratching the back of your neck. "if they win, abby's hosting some after party at hers and you could bring dina and jesse? not that i'd leave you alone―"

ellie cut you off. "y/n." you were looking at her with those saucer eyes. "if you want me to go, i'm already there."

your lips curved up and a huge grin fell on your face. "oh, thank you, thank you, thank you!!" you slung your arms around her neck, hugging her close.

you were too close. she could feel all of you, the parts she wanted to the most. she ignored it, squeezing her eyes shut as she melted into the hug. if she had it her way, she'd be doing whatever she pleased with you. but the situation was delicate right now, she needed you to warm up to her completely. then, she'd make her move.

𝜗𝜚

ellie regretted saying yes to your offer. she hadn't regretted watching you jump around in that cheerleading outfit, giving her almost a full display of your ass. she hadn't regretted the way you looked at her every time the cheering slowed or you lost focus. there wasn't an inch of regret in her bones when you threw your arms around her at the end when the women's soccer team won their game, your body squishing against her own so she could feel everything. what she did regret though, was coming to this stupid party.

ellie was no stranger to parties, in fact she sort of liked them at times. she always found herself strung across a couch, joint sitting between her fingers.

parties usually relaxed her, allowed her to live on the edge a little.

but right now? her glare was enough to send someone six feet under.

it started out okay, with dina and jesse by her side, you excitedly clinging to her like a puppy. she liked that, the fact that you were so attached. then, as always, dina and jesse go find themselves a room. you stayed with ellie, sitting up on the couch with your knees bent, still in your little cheer costume. she'd offered you the joint to which your face scrunched up, declining the offer politely.

then abby anderson called you up.

now, ellie had sort of anticipated this. captain of the football team, captain of the cheer squad. it made sense. abby was doing her stupid speech that had ellie rolling her eyes, and smoking the joint. leave it to abby to make a party boring.

suddenly, you were under her arm.

you hadn't even been paying attention when abby grabbed you, holding your shoulder close. your eyes instantly flickered to ellie who didn't look nearly as happy as she had with you by her side. her jaw was clenched, hand fisted and eyes narrowed in on you. she brought the joint to her lips again, eyes never leaving yours as she blew the smoke out. she caught on to the way you gulped and looked away.

dare she say, she saw your thighs squeeze together.

when you returned to your seat, ellie wouldn't so much as look at you. you took this as it being time for you both to head home. ellie stated that she would drive you, as she had been the one driving here. you told her you didn't think it was so much of a good idea, she was definitely high.

but the look she turned to give you was enough to have you shrinking back, shutting your mouth.

when you got into the car, sitting in the passenger seat with your hands sitting in your lap, you couldn't help but turn your own eyes towards ellie's whose knuckles were turning white due to how hard she was holding onto the steering wheel. "els?" she didn't so much as hum your way. "are you okay?"

"'m fine." was her deadpanned response.

had you made her mad? was this all over abby? why would it be? could she be... jealous? there was no way in hell. you knew you liked ellie, that much for sure but there was no possibility of her liking you back, you knew this. you'd been so wrapped up in your own thinking that you almost missed the way she had missed the turn off to your house. "els, you missed the turn." craining your head to look at the turn as if it was going to come back.

"I know." she stated, voice still icy cold. "i'm bringing you to mine." joel was out tonight, ellie knew this meaning there was no way in hell this man would be home before two pm the following day.

when ellie opened up the big brown door for you, it occurred to you that you'd never actually been in the house. you glanced around as you felt a cold hand on the small of your back. ellie lead you towards what you assumed was her bedroom. you glanced up, she still hadn't looked at you, her eyes strained straight forward. you stopped walking causing the girl to finally snap her eyes down towards you. you moved to step in front of her. "ellie, are you sure you're okay, i―"

ellie cut you off by her lips crashing into your own.

you didn't have time to think, melting into the kiss. the girl shoved the door behind you open, keeping you in her arms as she led you inside, leaving her foot kick the door closed. she made sure you didn't fall over until your foot hit the edge of your bed where she guided your back onto her sheets.

your head was spinning, the feeling of her rough lips on yours was enough to have you weak at the knees, a feeling pooling in your panties. but you were also confused. when ellie pulled away for air, eyes viewing you and your puffy lips, you took this as your chance. "ellie, wha―"

but she cut you off with a low groan. "just stop talking." and suddenly her lips were on yours again. her hand travelled down underneath you, hands coming up to squeeze at your ass. you whimpered into her mouth, the noise going straight down to her cunt. she held back a grunt as her hand moved to your stomach, flipping up your skirt and letting her fingers travel down further. they trailed up your thighs until they found your clothed cunt, sopping and wet. "f-fuck." ellie stuttered out, she'd expected it to be a little wet, sure, but she had this kind of an effect on you? "you're ruining your cheerleaders outfit, angel." you couldn't contain yourself, hips bucking and a whine falling from your lips. holy shit. ellie wasn't going to be able to contain herself, she'd end up creaming in her pants. "get on your knees."

your big blown out eyes found her own lowly red ones. "what?" nervousness eating at your stomach.

ellie took note of the little worry laced in your eye, she knew you better than you knew yourself. "get on your knees f'me, baby." pressing a little kiss against your neck. but she realised she had been just a little too soft. "now." she spoke, sternly.

you did as you were told, eyes never leaving ellie's as you positoned yourself on the ground underneath her, slight confusion lacing your eyes, mostly excitement. your knees scratched against her old carpet, eyes doey and looking up with enlarged pupils.

ellie bent down, her legs spread in front of you as she tilted your chin up, kissing you roughly. you could feel the hunger in the kiss. "don't like abby looking at you, touching you." you could hear the venom in her voice, her tone changing as if poison had been sat underneath her tongue. "touching what's mine."

you shook your head, eyes wide. "ellie it wasn't like that, she was told to―"

"shh." ellie didn't want to hear it, she especially didn't want to keep talking about abby, not when she had a pretty cheerleader sitting on her knees for her. "jus' say you're sorry 'n put your mouth where it's useful, yeah?"

ellie grabbed your hands, guiding them up to her hips so she could stick your two thumbs down the waistband of both her jeans and her boxers. "'m sorry, els, 'm really sorry." eyes almost watery. ellie helped you pull her jeans and boxers down her legs, letting them pile around her ankles, not caring enough to take them off completely.

"then show me." she spoke, voice a mere mumble, she was trying to stay in control but it was so hard when you were so close to her core. "c'mon, you know what to do."

your hands had sat at her thighs, keeping you propped up as you mouth came close to where she needed you. you looked up at her, then back down to her sopping cunt. breathing out lowly, your breath fell onto her causing her hips to buck. your tongue peeked out of your mouth before you leaned forward, pressing a kitten lick to her cunt. she let out a grunt letting you know that she liked it, with a little confidence you did it again, and again, and again.

you heard a low chuckle through her grunts from above you. "y'so cute." she mumbled, her hand falling into your hair as she tugged it closer. you moaned against her causing vibrations throughout her body. "s-shit." she found herself bucking her hips into your mouth.

you found your tongue moving against her quickly, practically making out with her cunt as your tongue dipped itself into her hole. you didn't really know what you were doing, you were doing what you hoped was right and by the grunts and curses that were falling from her lips, something had to be good. tongue dancing in circles around her clit making her chant your name as she held onto your roots, tugging you impossibly closer.

you sucked at her clit, it caused her entire body to move. "fuck, baby, jus' like that." she bucked her hips into your face, grinding down on it. it was as if she were face fucking you, the thought didn't seem so bad. "shit, don't stop." mumbling things you weren't even paying attention to. your hips were grinding against nothing, searching for release as your tongue worked against the girl.

ellie felt euphoric. she'd dreamt of this very moment a thousand times over, you with your mouth on her. she couldn't contain herself any longer, she knew that if you kept your pace up she was going to cum.

she couldn't. not yet. not before you.

she had so much more planned.

she hadn't even registered the fact that she was pulling you up before she was practically throwing you onto the bed. her big hands messed with the plush of your hips, squishing the fat of your ass as she turned you over so your face was buried in the sheets. "did i do something wrong?" you mumbled with fear in your tone, practically muffled into her sheets.

"no, bunny, you did so well." her mouth pressed kisses against the back of your thighs. she held your ass in the air while your face was practically squished against the pillows. "too well." wet hot and sloppy kisses all against your skin. "wanna have my fun with you now." her fingers moved to your covered cunt, rubbing up and down gently, a moan fell from your lips. "feel good, hm?" she moved to sit up on her knees, towering over you as she played with your pussy from over the cloth. she leaned over you. "tell me what you want." but you merely bucked your hips back. she stopped you by pressing her hands firmly on your waist. "tell me what you want or you wont get anything."

you whimpered desperately. "ellie." the sound of her voice on your lips was enough to have her going completely mad. "need your fingers." the mumble was low and pathetic, embarrassment flooding your cheeks.

she didn't move from her position. slowly, she trailed her hand back down to where your sopping cunt lay. she pulled the fabric of your cheerleaders outfit and your panties away from your pussy, sliding them across your ass as her fingers gently rubbed at your now bare cunt. "this what you want?" your hips were rolling against her fingers, eyes rolling to the back of your head and incoherent mumbles falling from your lips. you didn't answer, too caught up in your own euphoria. "god, you're fucking pathetic." and nodded your head too, agreeing with her as she drew tight little circles around your clit.

you could have came by the mere stimulation of her fingers against your clit but you wanted all of her. "inside." you mumbled through your whining. "please, els."

she was rather enjoying herself too, pressing kisses on the back of your neck. "you can beg better than that." she had full faith that you could. your whining never stopped as you threw your head into the pillows, much too embarrassed. "listen to me." her mouth falling near your ear. "be a good slut and beg for my fingers or you're not getting anything."

and the way her voice sounded and the way her fingers felt never stopping their attack on your clit. how could you not? “please els, please need it so bad.” grinding your hips down on her moving fingers. “please, i’ll be good, promise i’ll be good, please ellie.”

“good girl.” ellie cooed into your ear, a smirk on her lips. she stuck two fingers inside you without warning, pumping them in and out of your dripping hole. “see? wasn’t so hard was it? ‘n now you got what you wanted.” pressing kisses against your shoulders as she continued her assault on your dripping pussy.

you babbled and whined, whimpered and begged as you felt her fingers completely undo you. they were pumping in and out of you consistently as she soaked in your every whimper, your every noise as you babbled into the sheets. even you were unaware of what you were trying to say, all you knew was that noises fell from your lips and they seemed like good ones. “ellie!” you were almost screaming her name in a chant. “‘m gonna, i can’t―”

“i know, sweetgirl.” cooing at you again. “can’t hold it?” you shook your head over and over, your hole tightening around her two fingers that plunged right back into you. “mm, let go, pretty. be a good girl ‘n cum all over my fingers.” and that was exactly what you did.

she felt you tighten around her, completely sucking in her two fingers as you gushed around her, wet and sloppily as you came undone. she kept moving her fingers, allowing you to ride it out as she pumped in and out of you, gently now that she knew you were sensitive. when you collapsed onto the bed, fucked out and tired, she finally let her fingers exit your little hole.

her eyes couldn’t help but be strained to your face, cheeks pink and eyes slightly droopy. you looked completely fucked out and she was the cause of it. pride melted inside her as she grabbed your knee, flipping you around to look up at her with those doey eyes again, pupils wide.

she wasn’t entirely done with you yet.

“can you give me another?” you weren’t responding, babbling something as she reached down to untie your little costume. she slipped it off you with ease, smirking at the fact that you hadn’t been wearing a bra. “yeah?” to your constant babbling, not a clue in her head of what you were trying to say. “know you can, pretty girl.” reaching up to grab the top of her jumper, sliding it off and tossing it somewhere across the room.

you were gawking at her, not a drip of shame inside you. eyes wide as you stared. she understood for she had been staring just as much as you had. eyes drawn to your chest as her hands came down to kneed your tits, fingers slipping over your nipple causing a moan to fall from you, arching your back up on the bed.

she just had to have her cunt on yours.

she quickly climbed atop you, watching your face that never moved, you were waiting in anticipation for what she was going to do next. when she lowered herself onto your cunt, you couldn’t help but whimper out. even when your pussy was all sensitive, you couldn’t help but grind your hips upwards. the best part? she hadn’t even started moving yet.

“fuck.” she breathed out, feeling your clit rub against hers. “jus’ slow down, alright?” chuckling at your nodding. “gonna give you what you wan’t. jus’ gotta… jus’ need to…” but she cut herself off, unable to keep talking as her eyes rolled, a moan falling from her lips. the way you rolled your hips against hers, the way her clit bumped off your own, she couldn’t keep up.

her hands moved to sit up against you, she needed to take some sort of control. she moved upright, grinding her hips down to meet yours. her movements were much quicker than yours, a little desperate as she felt your clit constantly on hers. she couldn’t help the low groan that fell from her lips. “els!” you were a moaning, blabbering mess, back arched against the bed and eyes screwed shut. “feels so good, els, feels―” cutting yourself off with yet another whine.

ellie’s eyes were on yours, watching as your face twisted and contorted in pleasure. It drove her to hump her hips quicker, bouncing and bumping clit to clit. “good girl.” her own breath shaking. “takin’ it so well, my good girl.”

the way the words fell from your lips had your stomach twisting in knots for the second time that evening. this time, you could barely hold yourself. “ellie!” you couldn’t even get the words out, all you could feel and see was pleasure, all you could think was ellie.

ellie knew what you were trying to say, merely grunting as she found her own stomach pooling with that feeling. “yeah?” her head in your neck as she moved her hips against you so quickly, grinding down so fast, you could see stars. “you gonna cum all over me?” there was a higher pitch to her tone, you could tell she was so close, as close as you were. “gonna cum all over me like the little slut you are, hm? my slut.”

that was all you needed.

when ellie felt it, she found her hips stuttering against you. the sputtering of liquid against her, coming from your pussy. her eyes glanced down to see you squirting all over her cunt, hips chasing you as the liquid spurted, hitting her and travelling down to your stomach. the whining and the whimpering in her ear didn’t stop.

watching you squirt all over her could only make her come as close as you had. her stomach knots unravelled as she came, her hands holding your own tightly. you both grinded against each other as you came down from your highs.

when ellie finished, watching as your legs shook, she collapsed to the other side of you, chest heaving up and down, her eyes glancing to you who was looking at the ceiling in pure shock. she couldn’t help the way her lips curved completely upwards, the biggest shit eating grin on her face.

she had fucked the cheerleader.

main masterlist/ellie's masterlist

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djarincore · 11 months ago

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i want to taste you better

TAGS: MDNI 18+, overstimulation, cunnilingus, dirty talk, DADDY'S HOME (no daddy kink, sorry) WC: 1k

A/N: the sequel to this drabble. ONCE AGAIN thank you to sleep token for writing sexy ass lyrics and giving me the best titles. I'm gonna make a whole series of smut drabbles based off sleep token lyrics fr

Your car was in the driveway, but the house was unusually dark when Simon opened the front door. You always preferred to keep the lights on whenever he was away—said it felt ‘less lonely’ when the house was lit up. He didn't mind paying a bit more when the electricity bill came in if it meant you could find some comfort while he was away.

He dropped his bags at the door, deciding to deal with them later. He had more important things to do like finally holding you in his arms after being gone for two months. It certainly wasn't the longest he had been away, but it didn't mean he was any less eager to come back to you.

Simon crept up the dark stairs, avoiding spots he knew would creak beneath his weight. At the end of the hall, there was light framing a closed bedroom door.

He briefly thought about what you could be doing in there. Innocent thoughts at first—it was late, you had work in the morning, so you'd be in bed and winding down. But, the low drawn out moan that slipped from the door told him otherwise.

Fuck, he missed that voice. It wasn't the same hearing you whimper and moan from some shitty, little burner phone.

Your heavy breaths could be heard just outside the door. He lingered for a moment, pressing his shoulder to the wall. Your cries were beginning to crescendo, the tell tale sign of your orgasm.

Who was he to deprive you of that? It would just make your pretty noises all the more sweeter when he fucks another orgasm out of you.

When you met your peak with a choked gasp, Simon turned the door and stepped in. The air was thick with your scent.

You yelped at the sudden intrusion, sitting up and grabbing the blanket to cover your naked body. When the shock cleared, you were able to get a better look at the man who entered your bedroom. “Si?”

He clicked his tongue and cocked his head. “Thinkin’ of me, love?”

You cast the blanket aside and moved to slip off the bed, no doubt to run and hug him, but he stepped forward. “Don't move,” he commanded. “Lay down on the bed.”

You did as he said, laying back on the bed as he approached, anticipation holding your breath. You stared up at him looming over you. His black face mask was still on, obscuring mouth. You could see the faint black smudges still around his eyes.

Simon wasted no time slipping between your legs. He laid his palms on your inner thighs and spread them open to fit himself.

“Couldn't wait ‘til I got home. Were you really that fuckin’ desperate?”

You tried opening your mouth to defend yourself, but one of his hands, warm and calloused, slid between your legs. His thumb parted your folds to get a proper view of your glistening cunt, arousal leaking out and soiling the sheets below.

“My dirty girl,” he sighed, rubbing his thumb over your dripping hole. You squirmed, and he held you down by the hip, fingers digging into your soft flesh. “Gotta clean you up now.”

Both of his hands slid up the curves of your body, making sure to caress the mounds of your breasts before one settled on your jaw. He leaned over, stabilizing himself with one arm, and paused just before your lips.

You brought a finger up to tease the edge of the fabric over his nose before trailing to the string looped around one end of his mask. You pulled it off to reveal your lover's face and his smirking lips.

“Missed you,” you mumbled, leaning up for a kiss.

Simon met it hungrily, sweeping his tongue along your lower lip to prod into your mouth. His kisses devoured you. He pulled away to trail his lips down your neck, sucking marks along the column of your throat, laying his claim to you once again.

He wanted you to remember this in the morning—the marks on your skin, the ache between your legs—and remember it was him that made you feel that way. It would only ever be him.

He moved down your chest, paying attention to the hardened tips of your breasts. He latched his mouth around one nipple while his hand kneaded the other breast.

You arched into his touch and gasped when his teeth grazed over your nipple. Your fingers ran through his hair, urging him lower, just where you really needed him.

“More,” you whined, rutting yourself against the leg wedged between your thighs. “Please, Si.”

His hands smoothed over the curve of your waist as he slipped down to meet your cunt. He pulled your legs wide and hooked them over his broad shoulders.

Simon didn't waste time delving into your dripping cunt. His fingers formed a ‘v’ around your opening and he slotted his lips between them, lapping up the arousal from your orgasm. He was starved, almost desperate to taste you again. He shut his eyes and lost himself in you.

Your cries and moans fell on deaf ears as he dragged his tongue through your folds and toyed with your clit. The orgasm you gave yourself left you sensitive to his eager ministrations. Each flick of his tongue over your clit had your legs locking around his head, tense but thruming with pleasure.

He pulled your legs back open when you squeezed too hard, gripping your soft flesh and continuing to devour you. When he pushed two fingers deep into your cunt, feeling the way your wet heat pulsated around his fingers, he groaned.

“Fuck, you're tight. Want you to come on my mouth, love. Come on—ride my face.”

With his fingers buried in you and his lips on your clit, Simon worked another orgasm out of you. Your back arched and you finished with his name on your lips. He removed his fingers and replaced them with his mouth, letting your ride out your orgasm on his tongue.

“Ngh, fuck,” you cried, when he refused to pull away. You looked down at him as your chest heaved. “I can't.”

You tried shifting yourself away, but his grip on your thighs was relentless. His tongue ran over your clit again and your body twitched.

“You can. One more, just one more for me.”

#simon riley x you #simon riley x reader #cod smut #ghost smut #ghost x reader #ghost x reader smut #simon riley smut #cod mw2 #cod fanfic #ghost scenario

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strangersteddierthings · 1 year ago

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Sequel to Good People - The fic in wherein Wayne doesn't like Steve and overheard a conversation he shouldn't have. Here's the aftermath of that :3

Part One🦇Part Two🦇Final Part

Wayne had stayed in his bedroom long after he heard the boys leave. Eddie had knocked on his door to let him know he'd be staying at Steve's and to not expect him back until late tomorrow, a courtesy he'd never shown until after he'd been the victim of a manhunt back in spring. Wayne never asked him to do that but he thinks Eddie picked up on how worried Wayne would get if he were gone for any amount of time.

Eddie's always been good at reading people when he bothers to pay attention to them. Maybe that should have been enough reason for him to give pause to his dislike of the Harrington boy, instead of needing to overhear the boy crying about how he thinks there's something rotten deep within him that only Wayne can sense.

He'd been so sure he knew what kind of person Steve Harrington was. Eddie had been hung up on boys just like him pert-near his whole life, Wayne thinks, and it's never ended differently.

It's a Tuesday night and his friends usually gather at the bar on Friday nights, but Wayne needs to get out of the trailer to think. A beer might help. So, he grabs his keys and heads out.

He's been a regular at this bar since before he was even old enough to drink. Used to come with his pa, may he rest in peace, just to get out of the house. He's been a patron longer than any of the staff have worked there, he realizes.

"Hello Linda," Wayne greets as he takes a seat at the bar instead of at his usual table. He'd done a cursory glace when he came in and confirmed none of his drinking buddies were in before choosing the bar.

"This isn't your usual day," Linda says, leaning a hip on the counter, "but it's always a pleasure to see you."

"I got some thinkin' to do," Wayne replies and Linda nods and moves away, returning soon with a bottle of his usual beer. She picks up the bottle open and removes the cap before setting the drink down in front of him.

"Need a sounding board, hun?" She asks.

Wayne does a quick survey of the bar again but it's pretty quiet so he returns his gave to Linda and says, "if you wouldn't mind too much hearin' about how an old man might have messed up."

Linda laughs. "You aren't even half a decade older than me, so you best not be sprouting that 'old man' nonsense around me, 'cause I am not some old lady."

"Terribly sorry, Linda. I'm just really feelin' like an old fool."

A small frown comes to Linda's face then. "Now what could you have possibly done?"

"Well, I guess I'm tryin' to figure out if I did mess up. Eddie's got a friend and I don't trust 'im. Thought I had good reason not to, but, well, I overheard somethin' I wasn't supposed ta and now I'm not sure."

Linda hums, "hmm, that doesn't sound like you, judging someone unrightly. You are usually a good read about people."

"I'll admit, I haven't bothered to spend enough time with the boy to, uhh, judge him."

"Wayne Munson," Linda scolds, "you best not be telling me you judged that boy because of other people."

Judging by Linda's raising brow line, he thinks his guilt must be clear on his face. "You know Eddie, and how people have treated him. And with what he just went through- I just want 'im safe. Sure, his new friend graduated last year, but he was on the basketball team his whole career. And I'm jus' supposed ta believe this one boy didn't side with the group who started the manhunt?"

"Unless you've got evidence otherwise, yes," Linda says, brows furrowed.

Wayne sighs. "I ain't got proof. I got a lot of people sayin' he's good, actually. But it's the Harrington boy. The same boy Eddie would come home and complain 'bout. Harrington, Hagan, Hargrove, though I shouldn't speak ill of the dead. All them boys treatin' Eddie like he wasn't worth nothin' until they wanted somethin' form him."

Linda's mouth is almost a perfectly straight line with how much she's pursed her lips the more he talks, but she doesn't interrupt and no customer calls for her, so he continues.

"And you know what Richard Harrington was like. I know y'all only shared one school year together, but Janice wasn't any better, and she was your year, wasn't she?" Linda gives him one nod in response. "That boy's a product of them. I- You can't fault me for thinkin' differently."

"So, when do you expect Eddie to end up in prison?"

The question throws Wayne and fills him with anger at the same time. "Now, Linda, I ain't likin' what you are implyin'."

"I ain't implyin' nothing," she says, using the same tone with him that he did with her. "I'm applying your logic. Eddie's a product of his parents, ain't he? Al's in prison, and his mama's long gone, bless her soul. And since Eddie ain't sick, last I heard, he must be following after his daddy."

The anger leaves him then, and all he's left with is shame. "Point made. And if I'm bein' fully honest with ya, I don't even need ya to defend that boy. That thing I overheard. That what's eatin' at me. He called me good people."

Linda softens, shoulders dropping, "you are good people, hun."

"That boy told my Eddie that I'm 'good people', and that his parents are bad ones, and I. I don't know what to do about that."

"He thinks his own parents are bad?"

Wayne nods, "is what he said. Thinks I can somehow sense he's also rotten just by association."

"There's nothing to it, then," Linda says, like they've already talked out the tangled mess that is Wayne's thoughts on Steve Harrington and have reached a conclusion. Well, perhaps Linda already has. She's always been bright, and she's usually right. "You, Wayne Robert Munson, need to apologize to that boy. The guilt and shame's gonna put you into your cups otherwise."

Wayne nods slowly, though he isn't even sure if he agrees or is just acknowledging what she said before he takes a long pull from his bottle before lowering both his arms to rest on the counter as he replies, "You're right as usual, Linda my dear. I just gotta let go of the fact he's Richard Harrington's son and try and see just Steve."

"Damn right. Eddie might be Al's by birth, but you raised him and he turned out alright. Maybe Steve got the same treatment. Had his own Wayne around to raise him right."

There might be a bit of truth to that. He's heard enough talk about Steve Harrington over the years to think that. One of his drinking buddies used to be Jim Hopper. He's heard about the amount of parties he'd had to go shut down at the Harrington's house, with no parents to be seen. (Always Jim's biggest gripe back then. "Where's this kids goddamn parents!?) Wayne always assumed their kid just took advantage every time his parents were gone, but maybe it's the opposite. Maybe they were always gone, and Steve had parties to not be alone in his house.

Linda's right. There is nothing to it. He needs to talk to Steve, properly apologize, and go from there.

"It ain't an easy thing, admittin' you might be wrong," Wayne sighs.

Linda reaches across the counter and places a hand on Wayne's arm just below his wrist. Wayne looks up from where he'd ended up staring at his bottle, making eye contact with her. "If your boy is friends with this boy, it's for a reason. Just give him a chance. You are one of the good ones, but even we can have a lapse in judgment now and then. Doesn't make you bad, makes you human."

"Ain't no one perfect but the good Lord," Wayne says and Linda nods in agreement.

"Alright. I'll leave you to your beer and your thoughts for now, but you best keep me updated on your situation. I wanna know how it goes," Linda retracts her hand and heads down the counter to check on the few other people sitting about nursing drinks.

Wayne sits in his thoughts more than he drinks, so by the time he's done with the beer it's warm but that's fine. He will talk to the Harrington kid, but he wants to talk to Eddie first. He owes his nephew that much, and he does recall Eddie saying something to the effect of 'he'll come around' to Steve, and Wayne wants to tell Eddie he'll try.

Also he doesn't want to just corner the boy after he's been somewhat intimidating intentionally. He's going to get Eddie to ask if Steve'll talk to him.

True to his word, Eddie returns home late the next day. The clock says it's almost 6 when Eddie finally comes through the front door. If he's surprised to see Wayne awake, he doesn't show it. He does work the graveyard shift, and he's got a shift at 10 tonight, usually wakes up two hours before his shift. He'd wanted to make sure he caught Eddie, though, so he's been up since three.

"Eddie, you got a minute?" Wayne says.

"Sure. What's up?" Eddie says as he pulls off his jacket, depositing it on the nearest surface before plopping sideways on the couch so he's facing Wayne.

"I gotta come clean. I overheard some of what you and Steve were talkin' about," Wayne says, because he's a man of his word and he's always been good at doing the hard thing if it also turns out to be the right thing. He's got to be honest with Eddie, so he can be honest with himself. "Heard Harr- Steve talkin' 'bout how he thinks I'm a good person, and his parents aren't."

Eddie's quiet for a moment, blinking owlishly back at him while he thinks. "Oh. Umm. Sorry. I just- I think this is the first time I've heard you say Steve's name."

"Not the part I thought you'd focus on," Wayne huffs a laugh, "but I owe your boy an apology and I was hopin' you could help me make it happen."

"My boy- what is happening," Eddie drops his voice to whisper the question to himself.

"What's happening is I'm doin' the thing I always told you ta do. Taking accountability and fixin' my mistake."

"Oh. Oh!" Eddie narrows his eyes at Wayne, "you've made an ass out of me. All those times I assured Steve you were just being standoffish and you were- what were you doing?"

"Intentionally keepin' the boy at a distance 'cause I thought he was gonna hurt you. I sure as hell ain't been friendly. I been judging him because I knew his parents, thinkin' about how an apple don't fall far from the tree," Wayne stops, giving pause to see if Eddie will speak but he isn't. He's just staring at Wayne like he's a puzzle. "It was brought to my attention that it's mighty unfair to judge someone 'cause of how their parents act."

Eddie's brow furrows and his lips purse. It makes him think of Linda. She'd made the exact same face. "I- Jesus fuck this is weird, but I. I think I'm mad at you. Disappointed."

Eddie doesn't say it with an angry tone, and his face still looks more puzzled than mad, but the sentence feels like a kick to the chest anyway. Eddie and he have never been mad at each other, not in the eight years Eddie's lived here with him. They've been worried and scared for each other that, or mad at someone or something else that they take out on each other, but never mad at each other.

"You've every right to be."

Eddie stands from the couch, paces down the hallway, and Wayne thinks this might be the end of any conversation tonight, but instead Eddie comes storming back up the hall. "So, what, did you take me in expecting me to be my dad!?"

"No. He mighta contributed to your birth, but we both know that man ain't nurtured you a day in his life."

"Yeah, well, Steve's parents didn't raise him either, so all this has been bullshit! You made Steve think he's, he's broken and a bad person! And," Eddie's eyes are wet and he's angry but also about to cry. Wayne hasn't seen him like this in a long time. Not since the day they learned Al was in prison, fifteen years with a chance for parole if he's on his best behavior. Eddie had been so angry, and sad, and hurt by the news. Eddie's like that now, worked up so much he's repeating himself as he hiccups his words out around the lump in this throat, "And, and you made me help him feel that way! Because I didn't take him serious when he said, said you didn't like him! I thought you were being, being a dad, all fake gruff to intimidate the guy I like but it's- you were- FUCK!"

Wayne lets him yell. He deserves it, and Eddie needs it. Eddie's not saying anything untrue. He takes in what Eddie is yelling at him; Steve's parents didn't raise him, and how Wayne's cold shoulder must have added to whatever else Steve has going on in his life.

"I, I h-held him while he b-bawled into my shirt last night! He, he thinks- and you, you didn't even trust me! T-trust my own j-judgment of, of Steve! I, I need- I can't-" Eddie doesn't finish the sentence. He turns on his heel and storms back down the hall, the slamming of his door finalizing this conversation.

To say that Wayne feels terrible is inadequate. He's hurt his boy, and he's hurt his boy's boy, and he's got no one to blame but himself.

Now he's got two apologies to make.

I tried to tag as many people as I could remember that expressed interest in a follow up fic. I am SO sorry if I missed you. Please let me know if you want to be tagged in the final part. I will only be tagging people who ask to be tagged going forward 'cause it's a lot of people to remember and my memory is garbage.

@i-less-than-three-you @nburkhardt @afewproblems @skepsiss @unclewaynemunson @itsthestrangestthings @emofratboy @devondespresso @finntheehumaneater @loopholesinmydreams @yourmom-isgay @wrenisflying @emsgoodthinkin @messrs-weasley @madigoround @jackiemonroe5512 @gutterflower77 @zerokrox-blog @eriquin @samyuck @lunarmaruna @mugloversonly @kaij-basil-lionelli88

#steddie #my fic #wayne pov #wayne munson #eddie munson #honestly this didnt go the way i thought it would #so there will be a third and final part. Wayne's gonna make it right because he's a good uncle. A good dad.#SPOILER: steve doesnt even show up in this part so im not tagging him

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carolmunson · 1 year ago

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in the still of the night

soft!gf!reader x depressed!eddie

became a woman posessed and decided i needed to write something about taking care of my baby cow eyes sad bf. tw: as always, minors dni. themes of depression/mess. mention of minor character death. reader wears eddie's clothes. some suggestive language. showering together.

Steve called for a check-in just to call you right after, said he'd offer to drive. You peek into the darkened trailer, hearing the scratch of the record player in the living room. Too tired and achey to make it to his bed last night and too defeated to leave the couch all day today -- not even to flip The Animals record to the B-side. Rain patters on the tin roof, curtains drawn but not thick enough to keep out the gray light from spilling in through the bare threads of years of use. He faces the back cushions, hugging a pillow, knees tucked under the bottom. A kid in his adult disguise, he always gets like this around the anniversary of his mom's passing. You ease in, lightly closing the storm door behind you. The soft gray glow in the kitchen leaves you a little sullen. Half done dishes on a rag on the counter -- two smashed glasses scattered across the tile. Evidence of his frustration part way through the task, you can practically hear his desperate 'I don't wanna do this,' while he threw them. You let out a breath through your nose silently, noting the piles of laundry on the table by the washing machine across from the living room. He hadn't let you come over in a couple weeks, it's clear why now. When you tip toe onto the brown shag carpeting by the record player you ease the needle off the disc. The steady rise and fall of his back and shoulders aids your next move. You clear off the McDonald's bags from nights of fast food off the coffee table like a mouse, making sure not to crinkle anything too much. You don't want to stir him. Once clear, you walk around it, taking a seat on the edge of the couch by his feet -- hand reaching out to run comfortingly over his back. "Hi baby," you say softly, "It's me." He stirs, looking down to see you there, confused. He looks down at himself, same pajamas he's had on for three days, unshowered, unshaven. He's embarrassed, he never let's you see him when he's like this. Eddie's face crumples when the realization sets in -- it's not a dream and you're there, seeing his filthy trailer, seeing what happens when he's not okay. You're not supposed to see this, even when you're so sweet on him every time you do.

"What's goin' on, bub?" you ask in just above a whisper, "What're you thinkin' about?" His brows pull in, jaw getting tight when his nose starts to tingle with the start of a cry. His eyes water, shining in the light of the overcast through the threadbare curtains. One hiccup turns to two, and then he starts. "S'just been hard," he sniffles, "I'm just havin' a h-hard time." "I know," you soothe, still rubbing his back, "It's that time of year." "You sh-shouldn't be here," he shakes his head, shoulders shaking while the sobs start to over take him, "You kn-know I'm not like th-this." "Shh, I know, I know," you coo, climbing into the space between him and the back of the couch, squishing over him slightly, "I can help. I wanna help." He welcomes your body along his, you manuever so he's partly atop you, replacing the pillow with your torso. His face finds home in the crook of your neck, while you scratch at the top of his scalp the way he likes it.

"You smell good," he says wetly into your skin. "Thank you," you whisper. You both lay there for a little bit, letting him cry, letting him listen to the rain while it picks up outside. The living room gets a darker while the storm rolls further through the park and evening sets in. He settles after some time, your neck and shouler damp with his tears.

"I'm sorry," he says when he sits up part way, "I'm sorry you're seeing me like this...again." "I will always rather see you like this than any worse alternative," you smile at him, "I get like this too, you never make me apologize." "I know but I -- " "No buts," you shake your head, sitting up right to lean down and kiss him on the forehead, "Why don't you put a movie on and I'll take care of that laundry?" "No, no, you're not -- you're not doing my laundry," he says with an annoyed huff, "I can do it -- it's fine." "I want to," you assure, wiping at his cheek with your thumb when frustrated desperate tears start to spill from the pool in his eyes again. "It's not -- fuck babe, it's not your job. You don't have to take care of me," he complains, "I'm okay. I'm fine." "I don't think you're fine," you shrug, tilting your head to looking at him. His cheeks redden, you can tell he's stressed -- embarrassed to be crying in front of you, embarrassed by the mess. The rise and fall of his shoulders quicken while he takes stock of what needs to be done around him. "Hey, hey, look at me," you encourage, your palm skating over his stubbled cheek, "How about I do some laundry and if it makes you feel better you can take out the trash. Does that work?" "Angel, I don't want you doin' my --" "Would you like it better if I did your laundry...naked?" you smirk. He huffs a soft breathy laugh, a smile pulling on his while he wipes his eyes. "There he is," you murmur, "There's that smile I like so much." He sniffles, collecting himself for a minute before looking back up at you with sleepy, puffy eyes, "You don't have to do my laundry naked." "I can if you want," you offer with a joking grin, "If it'll make you happy." "You being here makes me happy," he whispers, "But I know you're just as stubborn as me so I'll let you start the laundry, but you're not doing all of it." "Okay," you nod, "And after I start the laundry I'll get the kitchen together f--" "Don't push it," he warns, leaning forward to leave a loving kiss on your cheek. You ease up off the couch, offering your hand to help him up. He creaks the way old men do, men who have seen too much before they were supposed to. He's unsteady when he stands, stiff with dehydration and lack of movement beyond the shuffle to the bathroom from the couch. Eddie pulls you into him, your face nuzzling his uncle's army tee softened from so many years of washing. Your arms wrap tight around him, thinking if you squeeze him enough it'll remind him that he's here with you and not wherever his mind keeps taking him. "Let's take a shower," you mumble against him, "We'll go slow."

"Am I gross?" he asks with a frown, you can hear his heart beat quicken from under his ribcage.

"No, but you'll feel a little better. I think, at least," you arms fall, hands sliding down to his, "I'll wash your hair for you." He loves that. "Okay," he nods, big brown eyes rounding -- admitting defeat, letting you lead the way he prefers to. The heat soothes his skin, the sharp twang in his muscles, the tension in his neck. He breathes in the steam, taking handfuls of water and splashing his face with it despite the sting. It's a hurt that feels good. That feels earned. You let him get a head start, a few moments alone to let the water heal whatever you can't. In the mean time, while he's not looking, you sweep up the glass in the kitchen and start a load of laundry. He knows you, his face a poster of unsurprised annoyance when you finally make it into the shower with him. "I know you cleaned," he says softly. "You love me anyway," you shrug, stepping close to press yourself against him -- skin hot from the water. "I do love you anyway," he nods, voice gruff and sleep soaked, crying vocal chords begging for something more. You suds him up, letting the water hit you in a waterfall as you step ahead. His eyes shut, heavy breaths taking over from crying while he relaxes further into your touch. He hums when you wash his hair, letting you baby him in a way he never was as a kid. You comb out his curls when they're wet with conditioner, massaging his scalp when you let it set in. He's always a little disappointed when it's over -- he'd offer to pay you to keep going. His bedroom is not in dissaray the way other parts of the trailer are. He never leaves mess where his guitars stay, where the amps are, it's the only place there needs to be order. You both step in with towels on, it's chilly from the window being left open, goosebumps raising on both of you at the wind. He still has some clean pajamas in his dresser, enough for both of you to wrap yourselves up in. He loves you like this, hot skin and refreshed, water still clinging to your eyelashes. The washing machine buzzes and you both turn, his hand reaching out to your shoulder when you go to switch it out. "Hey," he pleads, "I said you could start it, that's it." "Then come switch it out with me," you say, "Let's do it together. That's what I'm here for." A heartfelt smile flickers over his features, eyes shining with tears again from the shake up in emotions from your arrival in general. "Okay," he nods. You both pad in socked feet to the main living space, dressed in PJs in the middle of the early evening. The glow of the overhead lamp catches his wet hair, the glint of his silver chain, the wet slick of his lips. You switch out the laundry while he puts in another load, shutting the top down door with a tinny thud. You hoist yourself on it, legs dangling above the tile, heels rumbling against the cream coated metal. It's not long before his hands reach your thighs, leaning forward to catch you in a gentle kiss. "Thank you," he mumbles against your lips, "Again." "Anytime," you whisper, kissing him back, "Always."

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson angst #eddie munson x reader fluff #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson oneshot

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kentocalls · 4 months ago

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togame jo | telegraph sfw. established relationship. the soft aftermath of togame saving you from punks. alternatively i learned a word from a fighting reference and this fic was born. i'm really nervous posting this, i really like togame so i hope i do his character justice.

at the final round of the boxing match you look away, not sure how jo can watch the violence. you're peaking at jo's face. frowning when you see he's got a cut on his chin, how'd you miss that?

you should clean it. he catches and kisses the hand that reaches for the scratch, slightly surprised to see your eyes already on him, you look back at the tv screen.

"he's going to lose huh?" the fighter in blue shorts is doing bad.

"yeah, he's gonna lose. a fighter who telegraphs their moves is bound to lose. makes them predictable."

"telegraph?" your eyes fall back to his, he smiles at your question. you're always so curious about things he's into. it makes him oddly happy.

"telegraphing in boxing is when a fighter makes it blatantly obvious what they're going to do. rookie mistake." you try to keep your eyes on his, but the way he's speaking, the way his lips are flush and full. you catch yourself staring and look away. a smirk tugs at the corner of his lips.

"so you're always thinking when you're fighting?" he hums, wanting to look at your pretty face. your eyes find his when he doesn't answer. "trying to not telegraph?"

"that's right, a good fighter always needs to be thinkin' too. can't just reply on instinct. gotta look for openings, feint, dodge. can't let them know," your eyes fall to his lips again, you haven't noticed his arms are locking you in place. "what you're about to do, otherwise you're screwed."

you frown at that. there's so much danger in his world. and you... you got him caught in another mess. no wonder the rival goons were laughing, you were probably too easy to predict. "and i let them read me, you got hurt."

"don't worry about it. it's just a scratch." his nose brushes against your own, "i've had worse." his eyes on your lips.

"sorry jo...if i called earlier when they were at the cafe..." and he's shushing you with a gentle kiss, unhurried, unrushed. you didn't know he could kiss like this, he's lips are so soft.

your eyes still linger on his lips after the kiss. you feel so much for him, too much for him. "you need chapstick." you offer, looking away. he chuckles, "sure i do." you're such a cute liar, he's been using the vaseline balm you gave him diligently.

an alarm sounds on your broken phone, you rush towards it. grabbing the pain pills, jo knows he won't win and holds out a hand, "did you eat?"

uhh, choji wanted to give the goons an early surprise, and then he had some duties downtown and did he eat after?

"togame jo." you huff "you can't take meds on an empty stomach." he protests, trying to capture your lips against his again, he claims he's big and strong and doesn't need to eat. you huff and shush and get out of his grasp. a clear testament to the amount of main he must clearly be in.

there should be bread and some toast. something easy and simple. you're all but prepared but the damn strawberry jar is shut so tight. you groan and grip and twist but damnit. there's a cut on your hand your dominant hand that you ignored, its annoying and red, and your non dominant hand is clearly useless.

"oh? can't open it yourself, need a big strong guy huh?" you would roll your eyes at him but when he takes the jar from your hands his eyes catch the cut. his body freezes.

not only your cheek but your hand too? those assholes, if had been a little faster-- "jo, i'm hungry please." you interrupt, refusing to let both of you relieve the park incident. the lid opens so easily in his hands, it looks comically small. but he doesn't return it.

"you're hurt, i got this babe." you mean to say, it's not that bad, but when you look at the cut, it is kinda gross. you should wash it. jo has already spread way too much jam across two slices of toast when he's lifting you onto the counter, examining the scratch. eyes serious. "i'll clean it, don't worry."

"let me." and with the most tender hands, he runs. washcloth over the cut, grabs a hodge podge of supplies and dresses the wound with so much are. you're not surprised he knows how to do this, just surprised he doesn't do this for himself. eyes taking in his concentration, you don't even notice when he's done. when did he cage you in? when has his face gotten so close.

his jaw goes tight, there is a bruise forming on your cheek. fuck. he's gone soft hasn't he? that's the only reason anyone would dare think you're touchable.

"i'm sorry jo. i...i don't like you being hurt because of me. " your hand finds his cheek, you try to offer a short kiss but he's not having it. pulling away, this is his fault. he won't let this happen again.

he places the toast next to you, feeling himself shut down. his voice cold "eat." it's all his fault. they should've immobilized the gang members in the morning, he should've let choji--

he knocks into the couch with his injured leg, a rough grunt escapes and you're already zipping to him. "hey, i got you." he doesn't need you to support him, it's not that bad, just painful. nothing new to him. but you? it shouldn't happen to you.

the look of worry on your face too, he caused that. "togame jo." you pull his face down to yours, both hands firm, "don't you dare." you can see he's falling into hold habits, taking the burden of everything on his shoulders again, "the idiots fucked around and found out right? they're not going to bother me or you again."

you convince him to eat, get him to eat medicine and watch the rest of the match. overly concerned jo is going to shut you out, he's tried before. lasted a full two days before he found himself back at your side.

the medicine has him nodding off, you're so quick to notice. he can't hide from you can he? "bed, jo, your back is gonna hurt if you fall asleep here."

"alright, alright," jo mutters, "lead the way babe. don't expect me to be a good patient."

"you will be the perfect patient." you squeeze his hand, leading him through the familiar space. jo can't help but queeze your hand back, a bit harder than he would usually do.

"oh, perfect hmm?" you catch something in his emerald eyes, and ignore it. happy he's being cooperative. you pause when he starts to climb into bed, pulling him back.

"you can't wear outside clothes to bed jo."

"yes, we can."

we? oh, "it's okay if i spend the night?" you weren't expecting anything, truly only concerned about getting your big tough guy to bed. "i wouldn't have it any other way doll."

"well i'm not wearing outside clothes to bed, that's gross." you scrunch your face and it has him rolling his eyes, hiding the smile cascading his features. "you serious babe? no outside clothes at all? i barely touched anything"

"guess ill go home" you make to loosen your hand from his but he's standing, a little wobbly due to the injury on his leg, "fine, fine. you can borrow somethin' of mine, but don't go spraying it with your perfume or something, got it?" oh he absolutely wants his oversized hoodie to smell like you.

"something soft please." you wait, taking in his room, the sheets are actually clean ones. they're in your favorite color, there's a photo frame with you and him on his bedside table. the room looks suspiciously clean, are you going to find empty bottles under the bed?

"i gotcha, i gotcha" he rummages through his closet, pulling out the softest hoodie he owns, "this good babe?"

your tiny yay has his heart summersaulting and he rummages for his own set of 'inside' clothes. both of you have changed by the time your eyes connect again, "huh, looks good on ya," his eyes linger on your exposed skin before flicking back up to your face, you don't like that grin.

"sleep time jo. no funny business." your waving a finger at him, "i'm only staying to make sure you get rest."

"no funny business huh?" he's in your space too quick, it always catches you off guard how quickly he can move. "can't even get a goodnight kiss?"

this guy, "you already got one, jo." you move to push him to the bed. you can tell the medicine will kick in soon, he takes you with him. he acts offended, "one isn't enough, i need more."

your hand cards through his hair, you think about it. you'd like it, of course you would. but jo doesn't stop at one. he starts to pull out the big guns, pouting, pulling you so that you're straddling him now, the hoodie exposing more skin.

"come on, don't make me beg." hands tracing up your sides.

a blush on your skin, "i don't know jo, i like that idea." if you play with the nape of his neck, will he fall asleep? his eyes are growing heavier. but you underestimate his persistence. "you really gonna make me beg for a kiss, ain't ya?"

you make to pull away, he's a lot more alert than you thought, but his hands on your hips are firm, keeping you in place. you can barely move an inch. "nu uh, where you trying to go? this is a serious conversation." his voice is anything but serious.

"i need to brush my teeth, silly." he sighs.

"you don't have to do that, don't make me wait for a kiss while you brush your teeth." god his eyes are something else, pulling you in, you feel yourself leaning closer.

"you," you sigh, feeling his breath on your lips, "you should brush yours too." he chuckles at that, pulls away. "fine, fine, but you better make the wait worth it."

the mouth on this guy.

your injury isn't as bad as jo's you realize with how slowly he's moving, he takes his sweet time brushing his teeth and finishing up his night time routine. by the time he walks out of the bathroom, his expectant smirk softens to find you already asleep.

figures he'll get an extra reward for being good and waiting all night for one kiss. shakes his head at his own thoughts and slips slowly next to you, careful to pull you close but not onto his hurt leg.

automatically you're snuggling into him, your expression softening in your sleep. he wraps a big arm around you, pulling you snug. you're not leaving his chest until he gets twenty good morning kisses. closing his eyes to the soft sound of your breathin he feels his body finally relax.

your whispering in your sleep, he makes out a "you're stuck with me jo,for..ever."

he's so happy you can't see the fat smile on his face. you're so adorable, too cute. he needs to tuck you away from the world forever. "i don't mind being stuck with you babe." he knows you won't remember this conversation, risks a bit more, "forever sounds pretty damn good to me."

"'s a long time." oh? are you not sleepy? his hand runs through your hair, touch gentle, affectionate. trying not to let the bandages catch knots in your locks. "yeah, it's a long time. get used to me being around every second."

"feels nice." you burrow deeper into his chest, trying to meld yourself into his personal weighted blanket. his hand continues to run through your hair, it feels so soft. he hums in satisfaction, "you like this, huh? i'll do it every night."

"such a good boy." and you're exhaling deeply, he feels the exhaustion leave your body, muscles growing heavy. his own eyes heavy.

good boy huh? maybe he likes you saying it, would he admit that? nah. "i'm not a dog you know."

"i dunno...you're good to me. the best. boy. good boy." you switch sides to lay your head on your forgotten bruised check, a hiss and wince and jo's hand grips your head firm, placing you back onto your uninjured size.

"watch it babe, keep calling me good boy and see what happens." his voice low and rumbly. that confuses you, shifting your head to look at his eyes as much has his hand allows. you're so sleepy, his hand is so big and warm and comforting.

"wha's that even mean?" you barely register his mischievous smile, he leans in, voice barely a whisper. "keep calling me good and i'll have to show you proof won't i?"

"silly." you poke at his lips, he nips at your fingers, "sleep."

you're on the verge of sleep, words becoming less sensical and more incoherent. did you ask him to howl? "yeah yeah, go to bed babe." he lets you shuffle on him, adjusting into a comfy position on your sides. hand in his hair but barely moving. he's pepping small kisses to your temple.

"i like you."

he feels his chest go warm, "i like you too babe." and your hand falls from his neck and you're out. pulled into slumber. he watches with such affection, "more than you ever know."

jo spends the night holding you, arms protective, a shield against outside troubles. he lets himself sleep, lets his dreams fill of you and your smiles and nagging. smiles into the way you hold him close, in his dreams and on his bed.

#togame jo fic #togame jo x reader #togame jo x you #togame fic #wind breaker fic #wind breaker x reader #established relationship #april writes #my first time posting him #im so nervous #ahhhhhh #the image is a screepcap of mine! please dont use w/o permission #togame jo telegraph

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chrissv4mp · 3 months ago

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౨ৎ i feel more and more like i was made for you

— word count : 1.3k

★ sum: billie flies across the country just to see you.

☆ pair: billie eilish × fem!reader

★ cws: some language, mentions of a long-distance relationship(?), fluff, a little suggestiveness but no smut.

☆ a/n: horrible at writing fluff, so js bear with me🙏🙏 this is more so a blurb than anything else 🙁

— tags: @livialifesblog @her-favorite @mseilishmwah @mxqdii @sophloveswomen @devynscomet @wiidfi0wer33 @muchloveforhacker @slutforsturniolos @br4ttyeilish @xoluvx

my navigation...

"Hey, mama," Billie speaks through the phone, her voice raspy from the late hour of night. She stayed up just for this call, the call that you and her had every other day. Her blue eyes stayed focused on your own e/c ones, smiling sweetly as her lips parted again, "How was your day?"

You gave her a shrug of your shoulders before you replied, a sigh falling past your lips, "Ts' fine. Would be better if you were with me, though." You frown, earning a quiet chuckle from her end of the line as she catches onto your mood.

The sound of rustling comes from her end as she switches her position on her bed, the bed that she's told you she would cuddle you in every night if you lived with her. The distance between you two hurt, but it's not like either of you could really move. Billie lived in Los Angeles her whole life, and you lived all the way in New York, so it wasn't particularly the easiest thing to do emotionally or physically.

"I'm always with you, 'member?" She holds her wrist up, a small chain with your initial on the front on display for you to see. You had a matching one, but with her own initial, on the opposite wrist. You remember the day she sent it because that week was probably the worst one you've had, and your girlfriends small gesture had lightened it and made it so much better, "Always, m'kay?"

"I want you in my bed, baby. Need you in my arms." You whine, tossing your head back against the pillows. Billie sighs at your saddened expression, running a hand through her hair as thoughts begin to flood into her mind one by one. Your lips curve into a smile as you watch her eyes drift away from the phone, chuckling as you catch sight of the face that she always made whenever she was deep in thought.

"What're you thinkin' about?" She just hums in response, ocean blue eyes moving back to her phone as she smiles at you. She laughs as you continue to stare, eyes never moving for a second as they stay focused on her beautiful face. Her lips were so pink, so full, and you just wanted to kiss them at all times, "What I'm thinking about is why you're staring at me like you wanna devour me,"

You did. You wanted to devour her every night. If you had the chance, you don't think you'd be able to stop, "Well, maybe I do." Your lip was tugged in between your teeth, your face flushing a light pink as you eyed your girlfriend through the phone. Before her lips could part to speak, Finneas' voice came from her line.

Her head turned to the side, and you almost moaned at just the sight of her neck. It was so clear and empty, and you just wanted to mark it up and let everyone know she was— "Fuck, I have to go. I'm sorry, baby girl, I promise I'll call you later, okay?" A quiet sigh passes through your lips as you nod, giving her a small smile as you both mutter your, "I love you's."

"Fuck," Is the first thing you hear your girlfriend say when you pick up the phone, eyes meeting the view of her hair thrown up into a messy ponytail and her face covered with a disposable mask. When you chuckle, she finally looks at you through the phone, "Baby! Hi, I missed you so fuckin' much,"

Your cheeks flush a pink hue at her confession, a cheesy smile finding its way onto your face as your lips part, "It's only been a night, Bils," You speak, taking your eyes off of her for the first time to look around at her surroundings, she wasn't in any place that you recognized, and—was that a backpack she was wearing? "Where are you?"

Billie tenses at the question, unnoticeable from the bad connection on her part. It was never this bad, so that was another thing that had you wondering, "Nowhere." She says quickly, a mischievous smile on her face as she brings the phone closer to her face, "Stop peeking, you creep." The sound of your laugh makes her own lips part in laughter as she rolls her eyes playfully.

"Just wanted to know why my beautiful girlfriend is all covered up, that's all. Also wondering why I can't see you that well," You whine in faux sadness, and Billie just shakes her head as she giggles. The question still lingers between you two as she makes her way through the unknown place, her eyes only paying attention to you every time she hears you speak, "I still have your location, y'know."

"Nuh-uh," She mutters, fixing her mask as she finally takes a seat at her destination, "You're a little pain, y'know that?" Billie smiles, throwing her hood over head before moving her mask to rest below her chin, "Impatient little thing, you are." She points through the phone, and you just scoff as your eyebrows furrow.

Her line goes quiet before you can protest, and your suspicions about her location only rise. Her line glitches, and then the call disconnects, leaving you with nothing but confusion and worry. Before anything else, you go to your messages and click on her contact, shooting her a quick text, "be safe, u got me on my toes over here"

The doorbell rings, and you tense up in surprise as your head turns to the front door. Your limbs are sprawled out all over the couch as you bite on your fingernail in nervousness, the unsettling feeling from the call with Billie a few hours prior still lingering in the cold air of your house. Your phone hasn't rung since then, and she didn't answer any your texts.

Maybe you were a little paranoid, but this was the first time she'd ever gone ghost on you. As you stand up from the couch and pass by the window, you catch a glimpse of a black backpack strap. When you turn the doorknob and open the door, you swear you almost scream.

Billie stood right on your doorstep, a big smile on her face as she stares over at you, "Is this the right house?" She mutters playfully, and before she can even laugh, you grab her hand and pull her into your embrace. Quiet sobs pass by your lips as you bury your head into her shoulder, holding her tightly as she slowly rocks you side to side.

"Yeah—fuck—It's definitely the right house." You whisper, sniffling before you pull away just enough to be face to face with her. You don't waste another second before your own lips meet hers in a passionate, loving kiss. Neither of you feel the need to pull away, even for air as you feel her hand in your hair pull you impossibly closer, "God, I can't believe you're here, baby."

Billie smiles, pecking your lips once again before moving her backpack off her shoulders and tossing it to the side carefully, "You better believe it," She whispers, eyes moving all around your face as she stares at you in awe, "So pretty. My pretty girl." Her lips don't seem to miss a spot on your face as she showers you in kisses, giggles escaping as you bathe in the affection you craved all the moments before this.

"Now, I remember you saying you wanted me in your bed?" She smiles, eyes darkening as she pulls away to take in the sight of you fully. She practically devours you with her eyes, and you can't even express what you feel before your lips come crashing onto hers again. The door is pushed closed as you push her against it. Tonight was only one of the very few nights that you would finally get to taste her, so why not take every chance you get?

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willows-peak · 11 months ago

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Im thinkin about Choso (shocker)

If you ever send nudes to Choso, i feel like he's not the type to respond normally.

Youre gonna see the chat bubble pop up, then disappear, then pop up again for a while because hes so speechless at how good you look. If you get nervous and ask if he doesnt like them, hes gonna send a voice message reassuring you, and oh. That's why hes taking so long. You can practically hear how tight his pants are from how he stumbles over his words and cuts himself off to try and describe everything he loved about the photo.

Afterwards, you two get to talking normally, but Choso is *very* much still thinking about how good you looked, so much that later that night you get another voice message, a few minutes long, with a short message quickly following its sending.

> "hey sorry, i couldnt stpp thinking about thpse pictyres you sent"

Confused for a second at the amount of typos, you play the message and your ears are instantly filled with high, breathy moans and the quick 'shlick' sound of Choso stroking himself, pants filling the silence between his choked out moans and words.

"You looked so good baby, so s-so good, i wan' you here so badly right now, I've been- *hah* hard all day" The little growl at the end of his sentence sent shivers up your spine as you continued listening to Choso getting off to the pictures of you, praises leaving his lips sporadically. After a minute, he suddenly got much quieter, any sound leaving his mouth sounding forced out as the wet stroking sounds sped up.

And when he cums, it sounds intense. His voice cracks from how high pitched it goes, whines and whimpers coming from his throat as the sound of his stroking gets even wetter, making you wish with all your heart you could've been there to see it for yourself.

Then again, who says you couldn't? Sending a quick text to Choso, consisting of a curt "I'm coming over", you grab your shoes and keys and head out the door

#jjk #jjk x reader #jujustu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x you #jjk smut #jjk fanfiction #choso kamo #choso x reader #choso x you

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chelseasdagger · 11 months ago

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Teacher - Chapter III

Frank Castle x Inexperienced F!Reader

Summary: Frank invites you to hang out with him at a bar on the outskirts of town. After some good food, and lots of teasing, you get invited back to his place to take care of the problem you caused him.

Warnings: age gap (reader is in her early 20s), mentions of drinking and smoking, cursing, grinding, detailed handjob sorry, slight praise kink

Author's Note: I am so incredibly sorry for how long it took for this chapter to come out!! I had a lot of life issues that delayed this, but I'm pretty happy with how this turned out so please accept this super long chapter as my apology/holiday gift!! And if you want to be added to the tag list just let me know. As always, reblogs and feedback are greatly appreciated :) Leave a comment or shoot me an ask!! I'd love to hear what you think!

Word Count: 9k

Previous Chapters: I, II

“So I was thinkin’… Said you didn’t get many experiences even after high school, right?” Frank asks. His voice slightly muffled through the phone, which is wedged between your ear and your shoulder as you drag the spatula over the food you’re cooking on the stove. He had randomly rang you out of the blue and, after attempting to control your breathing, you answered the call. This was what he chose to greet you with and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t confused by the topic of conversation.

“Good morning to you too,” you tease, the food sizzling as you flip it in the pan. “But no, I haven’t. Why? What’s up?” you question.

“There’s this bar on the edge of town,” he begins his offer. “Little bit of a drive but they got good food,” he explains.

“Tempting…” you trail off, trying not to immediately agree just because it’s Frank. “Who all is coming?”

“Just me,” he replies. “That alright?”

“Yeah!” Your answer is too loud and far too fast to be playing it cool. After cursing yourself mentally, you try again. “Yeah, I was just wondering if it was a whole… get-together thing.” Your voice grows quiet at the end, not wanting to plant the idea in his head that you’d prefer it if there were more people.

Honestly, you were surprised he was reaching out this soon after the bonfire. It was one of the best nights of your life. Whenever you think about it, there’s this warmth that rushes through you; you’re not sure if the heat was from the big flames or his strong chest you laid against all night.

“Nah, just me. Just thought it would be somethin’ you might like,” you push the spatula around in the teflon pan as he speaks. “Plus it’s another thing off the list, right?”

“Yeah, it is! Thanks, Frank,” you say cheerily as you turn the burner off and open the cupboards to grab two plates.

“No problem, kid. Just thought about you, y’know?” You sink your teeth in your lower lip to calm yourself down before another thought comes to mind.

“Oh! When are we going?”

“Tonight,” he answers nonchalantly and your eyes grow wide. “If you’re free.”

You seriously weren’t expecting him to want to see you only two days since you two were last together. In your head, Frank is so calm and collected and you’re practically certain that this… thing you two have going on isn’t as big of a deal to him as it is to you. Still, you try not to question too much why he actually seems to enjoy having you around. Instead, you decide to just take the good as it comes.

“I am, I can do tonight. But I’m not sure I have something to wear. Is it like a club? Should I dress up or is it more jeans and—?” You don’t even realize when your voice picks up in speed and the questions fly out faster than you intend for them to, but Frank is quick to center you out of the beginning of your spiral.

“Just wear somethin’ cute, alright? I’ve seen some of your outfits, sweetheart, you’ll be fine.” You bite the inside of your cheek at his comment and inhale deeply before sighing. “I’ll pick you up at six, okay?” You hum an agreement as he confirms the time and say a goodbye before hanging up.

As you pull the phone away from your ear, you see an incoming text from your best friend drop down from the top of the screen.

“I’m two minutes away! I can’t wait to hear everything.”

That night when you got home from the bonfire, she had sent many texts in hopes of finding out the reasoning behind the newfound closeness between you and Frank. In your exhausted and slightly inebriated state, you told her that you would have her over Saturday morning to explain it all to her. You were much too tired to string the words together and you also know how she can tend to put her own emotions onto words; the last thing you needed was for her to hear the little arrangement you and Frank have and blow it out of proportion.

You set the table as you wait for her, making sure to leave a mug beside her plate for her tea that tends to be the staple of her breakfast. By the time the food is divvied up for each of you, there’s an impatient knock at the door. You shake your head with a smile as you open the door and she’s pushing past you as the questions immediately begin to roll off her tongue.

After guiding her to the small dining table in the kitchen, you watch her sit down and her eyes never stray from you. Her voice continues to fill the air as she talks over herself; there’s no distinct end to one sentence and the beginning of the next. By the time you’re sitting beside her and about to dig into your meal she finally covers her mouth, stopping all the enthusiastic queries she desperately wants to know.

“I’m gonna let you talk,” she mumbles behind her palms. You laugh at her attempts to force herself to be quiet and pick up a forkful of your food.

“I promise you it’s not as exciting as you think it is,” you warn her before popping the food in your mouth.

You start at the beginning—trying to skim over the details of your not-so-controlled crush on Frank as well as the more heated parts of the things you two have done together. Excited gasps fill the space surrounding the dining table and you watch as her eyes go wide when you mention it was his idea. Her mouth gets the better of her though and she begins to ask more questions while you speak. You make sure to answer all of them in time, save for a few chuckles here and there, before finishing your last bite.

“I actually have a question for you now,” you start again, watching as confusion washes over her features. “Frank called me this morning and he wants to take me out to this bar he likes. I just don’t know what to wear and I was hoping… you could help me?” You hesitantly look up to face her and you’re met with a beaming grin.

“Is this a date?! Is this the first one? Are you going back to his place after?” You shake your head once again as the sudden influx of questions fill the air.

“No, it’s not a date. I mean… I don’t think it is?” you let your thought process be shown aloud and watch as her giddy expression comes back to the surface. “It’s not! We’re just friends and he’s doing me a favor. I’m sure of it.” You decide then and there that you can’t afford to hold out hope and expect more than what he’s given you—which is already so much.

She raises her eyebrows up from behind the rim of her mug and you scoff at her knowing look. You brush your hand through your hair and try your hardest to not let your anxiety creep in about the idea of being on a proper date with Frank Castle.

And so together the two of you spend the afternoon diving through your closet together for something that could fit. It felt similar to a movie montage where the teenage girls toss different colorful fabrics through the air. With a growing pile on the floor of your bedroom, she gasps once you stand in the completed outfit.

“That’s the one!” she says excitedly before tugging you towards the bathroom. “Time for makeup!” She eagerly pats for you to sit on the counter while searching through your, admittedly limited, makeup bag. Doing the best with what she’s got, she gets to work on the eyeshadows and blush, finishing up with a curl of your eyelashes and combing mascara through them. You always loved how focused she got when it was time for something special; her tongue pokes past her lips as she concentrates, her eyes squinting to get the very last detail to sit right.

Once she’s satisfied, she spins you around to see yourself in the mirror and you’re actually surprised at how nice it all came together. You’re wearing an oversized, comfy jumper, tights that line your legs, and a black skirt that accentuates your frame. It’s not too fancy, but the black tights make your outfit more sleek and you silently hope that Frank will like it. As you fluff your hair up to give it some more volume, you thank her behind a wide smile.

A buzz of excitement rushes through you as you wait by the front door and hear the heavy revving from the engine of Frank’s van. You physically shake your arms in an attempt to let go of some of the nerves that built up and your friend gives you a quick hug.

“You got it, baby!” she encourages sweetly. “Have fun!” she calls out as you slip past the door. Making your way down your porch steps, you hear her shout something else from behind you. “Don’t do anything stupid!”

You chuckle at her warnings and make your way to the big, black van. You open the door and find Frank sitting with his elbow on his armrest and his head in his palm as he turns to face you. You stand there for a moment and await his initial reaction to your outfit. His eyes widen slightly before they rake over your boy, his lips parting as he takes it all in.

He brushes his thumb along the defined line of his jaw before sinking his teeth into his lower lip. His eyes settle on the small slit of the skirt that rests high on your thigh. There’s a pause for a moment before he finally speaks up.

“Told you you’d find somethin’ cute.” He fixes his posture and gives you a smile as you roll your eyes and sit in the passenger seat. Being with him felt easy now—of course there’s still the butterflies, which you’re expecting to make a permanent home in your stomach any day now, but it’s mostly when you’re about to see him. When you’re actually in his presence, it all fades away and you love how comfortable he makes you feel.

If you had told yourself a few weeks ago that you’d be on a half hour car ride with Frank Castle to the outskirts of town, she probably would’ve brushed it off as some sick joke. But here you are, sitting beside him and watching as he flips through radio stations until he settles on a classic rock song. You enjoyed getting to discover little pieces of him the more time you spent with him.

As he drives under the lamp posts longing the winding roads, you watch as the passing lights illuminate his face before it’s cloaked in shadows of the night once again. Each time you move underneath them, light showcases his features in a warm glow for mere moments at a time. You think your new favorite thing might be when the gleam seeps into the small dip in the bridge of his nose. That small highlight makes you smile and he catches it as he turns to look at you once you’re stopped at a red light.

“What is it?” he questions, his eyes squinting slightly as he looks at you. With a shake of your head, you face back to the light strung up in the air. His gaze doesn’t leave the side of your face though, and you know he’ll want an answer.

“This is just nice,” you shrug your shoulders. “Thank you for thinking of me,” you add. You want to make sure he knew how happy you were to be doing this, despite your quiet nature due to your fear of somehow screwing this up with your words.

“Haven’t even done anything,” he laughs softly.

“Well, I’m still enjoying myself,” you reply in a gentle tone. Frank doesn’t say anything more as he continues to look at you. The light changes and a green glow washes over your face, queuing him to face the open road once again. You glance down as his hand moves to the gear shift, trying not to focus too long on how the veins in his hand are accentuated as he curls his fingers around the knob.

Frank speaks up again after a moment and you quickly recenter your attention. He engages you in some light conversation and pretty soon you’re laughing along to his comedic storytelling. You don’t even realize you’ve arrived until he’s put the car in park and turns the key off in the ignition. Looking out from behind the glass in front of you, you see the neon lights surrounding the big, bold letters of the name of the bar. It shines brightly in the night sky and acts as a small beacon in the dark parking lot.

You look up at the sound of the driver side door closing and realize Frank has left the car. You reach for your bag that’s resting on the floor between your feet and by the time you move for the handle, he’s opening your door for you. It’s the first time you’re able to truly take him in. He’s wearing a pair of nicely fitting blue jeans and a grey jacket, complete with the black boots you’ve never seen him without. You can’t tell what he’s wearing under the thick material that conceals his chest though, and you find yourself hoping it’s something tighter and hugs his torso.

“You ready?” he asks, and you nod in response. “Alright, watch your step,” he warns and you feel his hand bracing your upper arm as you hop out from the slightly lifted van. Once you’re secure on the ground, the two of you begin making your way towards the entrance. As you pass by the cars parked in organized rows under dim lamplights, you begin to make out the few scattered people smoking and even spot a couple sharing a cigarette just outside the main doors.

Once inside the building, he shrugs off the jacket and you can finally piece together his outfit. Frank’s broad shoulders stretch the fabric of the dark blue button up shirt. It’s tucked into his denim pants and secured with a black belt. He fits the attire of everyone else here in the bar, but still stands over a head taller than the rest—not to mention infinitely more attractive. You try desperately to rip your eyes away from him, and in doing so, take in the scenery of the pub.

The bar is crowded but not so occupied that you can’t move. The loud, overlapping voices meld to create a soft droning that accompanies the background. It doesn’t stand a chance to the band though, whose loud amplifiers cause a shake in your chest with each note they strum. Polished wood lines the walls and there’s photographs of smiling people decorating them, forever cherished behind glass frames. It feels oddly homey, admittedly impressive for a place you’ve never stepped foot into before tonight.

You accidentally bump into Frank and he steadies you with his large hands on your waist. He’s staring down at you with a subtle smile on his face. He begins to talk but you don’t have the slightest clue what he’s saying; the song that’s playing is far too loud to hear the lower tone of his voice. Shaking your head with a frown, you let him know you can’t understand him and his smile grows wider. He then leans down, his fingers brushing your hair away from your ear before he speaks.

“Asked if you wanted to eat,” he starts, his breath immediately warming the side of your neck. With just those few words, it feels like all the other noise falls away. All you can focus on is the rumble in his voice and how the words feel as if they dance down your spine. “I’m starving,” he adds, and you’re certain your new headspace gave his words a different context than he intended.

He pulls away for your response and all you can muster up is a slow blink and a delayed nod. There’s no cocky smirk at your expression and you wonder if maybe he decided to spare you the embarrassment this time. He promptly turns and you fall in line beside him, letting him guide you around the crowd. His palm finds its way to your lower back as he leads you and just like that, your heart picks up in pace once more.

You’ve only seen the same small movement depicted in movies and you can now safely say that experiencing it is so much more exhilarating. Part of you is frustrated that such an insignificant touch can make you this excited, but Frank’s charm has a tremendous effect on you. Still, you tell yourself it’s the anticipation of his hand being elsewhere on your body that riles you up.

His hand stays put until the two of you reach a booth lining the back wall. There’s a small lamp that bathes the whole table in a warm glow and you and Frank place your things down before sliding into the long seats. As you stare at him from across the table, you watch as his eyes scan the crowd and then the main stage as he focuses on the band. They’re currently playing a cover of a classic rock song and Frank smiles as he nods his head to the music.

“This place is nice,” you raise your voice slightly to be heard over the music. He turns to face you and his smile grows wider.

“Yeah? You like it?” His question is accompanied by your own nod and he continues. “I’m sure there’s fancier ones close to town, but I’ve been coming here for years and they’ve always been good.”

He raises his hand in the air, tilting his head up and leaning to the side as if to catch someone’s attention. You follow his line of sight and look over your shoulder to see a woman with a black apron tied around her waist. She looks slightly past you as a grin covers her face and walks over to your table quicker than you expected.

“Frank?! What are you doing here?” Her voice is already grating and she’s only said a handful of words. Her tone is drawn out, almost flirtatiously, and she stands closer to him than you would’ve liked.

“Just showing her around,” he answers simply. He looks at you and when the waitress does the same, her face falls. You muster up an awkward smile and try to shake off the weird look she gives you. “She’s never been here before, you think we could get some menus?”

“Sure thing,” she mumbles, stepping away only to return a moment later with two long, laminated sheets of paper. She drops them to the table and you spare yourself the trouble of looking at her again.

“She sure seems to like you,” you speak up once she’s left. Frank scoffs before grabbing a menu and shaking his head. “Did you see the way she looked at me? What did I do?” You ask with a frown, wondering if you did something unintentionally.

“She’s probably just pissed cause you’re sitting with me and she’s not,” he answers with a sigh. He flips the paper around and you notice the way his eyes dart around the page. His answer wasn’t very reassuring though, and you still feel the tension in your body. As you scan the small print of the menu in your hands, you can feel his gaze on you. You try to shake the disappointment and to make it less obvious that what she said affected you, but you’re not certain how good of an actress you are.

“Y’know what?” he speaks up after a few seconds. You raise your face to him as he continues, “I know this place a couple of blocks down? Best god damn beer I’ve had.” His hand disappears under the table and a moment later you see his fingers curled around his jacket. “It’s German! You haven’t tried that one before.” He leans across the table before whispering, “You’re gonna hate it.”

His attempts at distracting you work well and you can’t help the laughter escaping you at the final thing he said. Frank’s own crooked smile returns at your reaction and a softness settles into his brown eyes.

“There she is,” he mumbles once he sees your regular self bubble back up to the surface. You bring in a deep breath and choose to shake off any residual awkwardness you felt from before.

“No, no it’s okay. We can stay here.” You finish your sentence and look back towards the music before facing him. His hands are empty now as he continues to stare at you and you feel confident in your choice to stay.

After looking over the endless list of drinks, burgers, and other appetizers, you read a description of a sandwich that makes your stomach rumble to life. You immediately decide on it without a second thought and smile up at Frank, watching him run his finger across the page between two options and looking quite indecisive.

Before long, the ill behaved waitress is back to take down your order. You pick your sandwich, remembering to take off the toppings you aren’t too fond of, add in an order of fries, and your usual favorite drink to top it off. With a hesitant glance up, you see her scribbling down your order on the small notepad in her hand. Her expression is twisted up as if she smelled something foul and you feel that uneasy feeling settling in once more.

“I’ll have the same as my date here,” Frank answers before she can ask about his meal. He gently taps the two menus on the tabletop before handing them over to her. His lips part as his eyes drag over your features and you notice the way they stop for a little longer than they should when they reach your mouth.

To say you were shocked was an understatement. You weren’t sure if he said it just to get under her skin or not but part of you didn’t really care. He said it regardless and that made a smile carve its way onto your face. An annoyed scoff is heard from above and you see a hand come into view to snatch the menus away from Frank. He never looked away from you once.

The moment the food arrives, you’re excitedly grabbing your sandwich and lifting it to your mouth. As your teeth sink into the toasted bread, the flavor hits your tongue and a satisfied moan escapes you. Frank is quick to lift his eyes at the sound, his eyebrows raising as he takes in the scene in front of him. You raise your hand to your mouth and begin to grow bashful at the look on his face.

“Sorry!” You apologize, your voice muffled behind your palm. “It was just really good,” you explain once you swallow your food down.

“Don’t gotta apologize for that, kid,” he replies through his own raspy chuckle. You bite your lip and tuck a strand of hair behind your ear before reaching for the fries in your basket next.

The two of you dig into your identical meals and make some easy conversation in between bites here and there. You’re honestly impressed with how good the sandwich is and you’re glad you picked it out of the infinite number of items on the menu. Frank wasn’t lying when he said he loved this place. You watch him look up from his meal every now and then with a big smile on his face as he moves his head to the beat of the music. His energy was infectious and you found yourself tapping your toes along too.

“Y’know,” he speaks up after finishing the last bite of his sandwich. At the sound of his voice, you begin to look up to his face, but your eyes latch on to something else. Frank sucks his fingers clean of the salt from his fries, his lips pursing as his cheeks hollow, and you immediately lose any grip you had on controlling your thoughts around him.

“When we ordered I saw your beer on the menu.” You hear his words but they have absolutely no meaning, no way of stringing them together to make a continuous thought as you watch him suck the seasonings from his thumb. You begin to feel a sense of injustice at the fact that those fingers weren’t where you desperately wanted them to be. With a pout, you look back to his gaze and see the confusion clear in his eyes.

“What?” you blurt out, finally remembering he had spoken and that you hadn’t processed anything he had said. He scoffs before shaking his head, his smirk spreading wide across his face before he speaks again.

“Said they have the beer you like here,” he repeats himself, his cocky grin a clear indicator that he saw how you froze up at sight just moments ago.

“I’m actually good tonight,” you say confidently. Reaching for your glass, you take a sip of your drink and hold his gaze as you stare at him from under your eyelashes. He sits back against the cushion of the booth and his eyebrows pull together as he thinks about what you said.

“Yeah?” he asks, squinting his eyes at you.

“Mhm, not letting a few beers stop me from what I wanna do after this,” you explain. You’ve never felt more frustrated than when he stopped you from kissing on his neck. You understood why he did it, and are actually very thankful he didn’t want it to go further, but the disappointment coursed through you all the same.

“Hmm? And what exactly is that?” he questions as the band finishes up the song they had been playing. Your eyes follow the noise as the crowd erupts into whistles and claps, applauding the musicians. When you finally look back over, Frank’s in the same position. It’s like he never looked away from you—hell, you’re not sure if he even blinked.

You don’t answer him though and make up your mind to keep him on the edge of his seat. Instead, you smile sweetly before picking up a fry from your basket and popping it past your lips.

He gives you a knowing look, but doesn’t pry. Perhaps he was looking forward to the surprise of it all. You only hope you can remain as confident as you feel now so you can properly act out your plan. Before long, he swallows down his last french fry and Frank speaks up with a question.

“You wanna go dance?” Your whole body freezes at the mere thought of attempting to dance, not to mention the added nerves of doing it in a crowded room with Frank Castle standing witness. But as you look out onto the dance floor full of moving bodies, you realize most of them are probably far too intoxicated to really pay attention to you. Deciding to push past the initial fear, and wanting to be fully present with him and have fun, you nod and scoot out of the booth.

Frank stands in front of you and his hand soon comes into view of your eyeline. You place your hand in his and feel his fingers curl around your palm as you brace your weight on him and rise to your feet. You stand on your toes and motion for him to come closer so you can speak into his ear.

“Just so you know, I’m a terrible dancer,” you say after he’s tilted his head towards you.

“What part of me screams that I’m a good one?” he asks, and you chuckle at his joke. He smiles down at your laughter and nods his head behind him, letting you know he’s going to the dancefloor.

Frank keeps a hold of your hand as he leads you through the crowd. His broad body splits the sea of bodies as he walks and you follow close enough behind him to squeeze past them as well. There’s blue hues from the dim lights that shine over the people, but other than that you can’t see much beside their moving feet. He must’ve gotten to a clearing where there’s not as many people bumping into one another, because he stops walking and turns to you.

You’re sort of frozen still for a moment as the reality of it is beginning to creep in. But then Frank starts to shimmy his shoulders and you can’t help but break into a wide grin. Just like that, you’re thawed. The awkwardness you felt is starting to leave you as you begin to loosen up in front of him.

The band plays a fun, upbeat song that you don’t recognize, but he seems to be making the moves up as he goes along. You follow his direction, copying him but still keep some distance, trying to slowly shake off those nerves that are still lingering around. Suddenly, Frank does a move that you can’t even begin to describe with words alone and you burst into laughter as you watch him. Holding your stomach, you shake your head at him and he begins to laugh too.

The band then retires from the stage, saying their farewells as the crowd applauds and whistles. Frank claps along with the rest of them and you cup your hands around your mouth to give a small cheer. You really enjoyed their set and wouldn’t mind coming back here again to watch them play once more.

Once the stage is clear, music begins to play over the speakers and Frank’s face lights up. His excitement is clear after just the first few notes.

“God, this takes me back,” his wide grin causes his eyes to squint up. You smile up at him, happy at his enjoyment, but you can’t help your head from tilting to the side confusedly.

“You haven’t heard this before?” he asks incredulously and you shake your head. “It’s literally my favorite song, how do you not know this?”

“When did it come out?” you ask, and watch him look up as he starts to think.

“Must’ve been… right after graduation, I think?” He does the math for a moment longer before answering with the year it was released. The answer has you fighting back a giggle as you stare at him awkwardly.

“Frank, I wasn’t born until two years later,” you answer honestly, and the look on his face is priceless.

“Jesus Christ…” he replies, dragging his hand down his face. You begin to worry now, wondering if you shouldn’t have brought up that point. He must’ve caught a glance at your anxious frown because he’s quick to explain himself.

“You’re fine just… my back hurt when you said that.” His hand comes to the back of his neck to emphasize his point and your smile finds its way back to your lips.

Despite the initial embarrassment you ran into after being reminded again of the gap in age between you and Frank, you found yourself really enjoying the song. He was honest when he said it was one of his favorites. You’ve never seen him this lively before and you love being able to soak up every minute of it. He’s so animated as he dances, holding you close to him with his hand secured at your back. The lines to the song fall past his lips like muscle memory as his forehead presses to yours.

You can’t stand being this close to him. Your whole body feels like it’s been shot with a current of electricity and you’re desperately wanting him to stop singing and put his mouth to yours. He might have a sixth sense—or simply just picked up on the timing—because his lips are on yours a second later. He kisses you deeply, his tongue brushing your lower lip for a moment before you eagerly let him in. Your head tilts to the side as you kiss him back and your arm wraps around his wide shoulders to ensure you’ll have your fill.

All too soon he’s breaking the kiss and you immediately suck your bottom lip behind your teeth to savor the feeling of him. He suddenly lifts his arm into the air and cues you to spin. You twirl under his hand with a huge grin and then he yanks you in for the finish, timing it so that your back is to his chest when you land against him. His same palm immediately finds your hip and tightens to keep you flush to him. His opposite hand travels down the length of your torso, his index finger tracing your side as he moves.

He begins to whisper the lyrics against your ear and you can’t bring yourself to focus on their meaning. He’s all over you and it’s making you feel dizzy, as if you’re drunk on his scent alone. Each pass of his finger along your ribs alights a fire at your side and you try to keep up as he begins rocking you from side to side to the rhythm of the song. His breath warms the entire side of your face and neck with each word he whispers. You fall under his spell and roll your head to the side at the feeling of his warmth all over.

When the song starts to fade and a new one begins overlapping it, you’re left with a bittersweet feeling; part of you never wanted to leave that moment and would gladly listen to that song on loop for the rest of your life, but the other half of you was almost frightened at how easily you turned to putty in his hands. You felt the need to have a better grasp on yourself, especially if you wanted to stay courageous for what you had planned for tonight.

The mix of two songs smoothen down into one and you instantly recognize the slow, sexy bassline that’s pumping through the speakers overhead. You’re not sure what came over you. Perhaps you wanted to prove to someone that you’re not that same timid, little girl. Whatever it was that coursed through your veins, you’re thankful that it gave you the strength to grab his large palm and put it back into place at your hip. You use the extra support to push your ass back into him, making sure to press hard enough until you feel the bulge in his jeans.

Frank doesn’t show any reaction except for his fingers tightening into your skin as if you were a lifeline. You smile as you continue to grind into him, your hips following the similar movements he taught you just a few days prior. Facing away from him gives you the extra boost of confidence needed to perform this act, but you’d be lying if you said you wouldn’t kill to see the look on his face right now.

With each push of your ass against the denim fabric, you feel the heat of his bulge so close to where your own warmth had started to pool. This felt good and you felt pride surging through your chest once you realized exactly what you were doing.

And then his arm crosses your chest and pulls you flat against him once more. His forearm is pressed against your collarbones and you feel your breath hitch at the hold he has you in. With a shaky inhale, you swallow down the lump in your throat and wait for him to speak.

“Look at you, sweetheart,” the tip of his nose brushes the curve of your ear and you try your damndest to not let your body double over. “Someone’s getting confident, huh?” His arm begins to slowly drop from across your chest, and instead reaches your lower stomach. From there, he applies pressure until you’re as close as you could be to him.

“You feel that? Hmm?” There’s an undeniable hardness under the thick layers of fabric. It doesn't feel as big as the last time he got turned on from you, but it’s still noticeable. “That’s all you,” he finishes with a lower tone of voice before taking half a step back and leaving you to sit with his words.

It takes you a moment to wrap your head around this entire situation. It’s abundantly clear that the mood has changed from light laughter and awful dance moves to something more sultry. You can feel the warmth slowly spreading between your legs and it leaves you with a buzz that makes you feel like your movements are slowed. When you turn around to finally face him, he’s already staring down at you expectedly.

“Why don’t we get outta here?” he asks, deep voice blending in with the booming bass. You nod at him and it feels like you’re moving in molasses. The dull, blue light from above catches his face for a moment. There’s something deeper to his unreadable expression; his jaw is clenched as if he’s trying to hold something back.

Once the two of you make it back to the table, Frank reaches into his back pocket for his wallet. He thumbs through the notes before tossing a few bills onto the table. He reaches into the booth seat for his jacket and shakes it out before draping it over your shoulders.

“Thank you,” you mumble in a quiet voice.

“Don’t gotta thank me for that, sweetheart,” he shakes his head, insisting that your gratitude isn’t needed. He begins to walk towards the door with his hand in its designated spot at your lower back to help guide you once again. The chill of the night air hits you the second you step out of the building and you find yourself curling his jacket snugger around your body. His scent is stuck to the collar and it helps lessen your shivering from the cold breeze.

He walks you to your side of the van and opens the door for you to climb in. Even after he gets in and begins driving down the same winding roads, there’s not much conversation between the two of you. The tension in the car is thick and incredibly palpable. You’re indecisive about whether to break the silence or leave it untouched so as to not make it worse.

Eventually Frank pulls into his parking spot that faces the front door of his apartment. After putting the van in park and walking around to open your door once more, you take his hand and carefully step down. He unlocks the door and gets you inside quickly, trying to shield you from the chilly air. Once he flicks the lights on, you’re greeted by the familiar sight of his living room and feel that desire to touch him creep back in. Your name falls from his lips and you turn your head at the sound.

“I’m sorry if I went too far back there. I shouldn’t have—,” he begins to apologize, but you’re quick to interrupt by pressing your lips to his. A surprised grunt comes from him and you smirk into the kiss, pleased to have caught him off guard. He wastes no time in wrapping his arms around you and begins leading you towards the couch. When you feel the back of your knees hit the curve of the cushion, you angle yourself in front of Frank and push him into the sofa below.

He looks up at you with his lips parted and his chest is noticeably bringing in deeper breaths each time he inhales. His usually soft, brown eyes have a darkened glint to them and you’re certain you’ve never seen this emotion on him before. Your pulse is racing through your own body and you swiftly straddle him with your knees on either side of his hips.

His impatient fingers grab hold of you in a way no one ever has before. The action causes a surprised gasp to fall past your lips, but it’s swallowed down by Frank who can’t seem to keep his mouth off of yours. The light stubble decorating his jaw scratches at your skin and the rough feeling does nothing but spur you on further. You begin to roll your hips into his as you fall into a familiar pattern and he uses his hold to help guide you into moving faster.

His movements are rushed and needy and it makes you feel reassured that he wants this—he wants you. That little boost to your ego has your hands tracing down his body, your palms rubbing down his strong chest, before finally reaching his belt. Your fingers search blindly for the leather and the sound of the buckle clinking sounds out in between the wet noises of your kisses.

“Woah, easy,” Frank breaks the kiss the second the sound reaches his ears. “Let’s just, uh…” he trails off and you feel his fingers gently prying yours away. “Let’s take it slow, alright?” His tone is so soft and the concern is written clearly across his features.

“Frank, please,” you try to reason with him. “I didn’t even drink tonight! And I just… last time I was all worked up and I really want to do this.” You finish with a pout as you glance up at him with pleading eyes. He swallows hard as he stares at you for a moment, probably battling something internally.

“What do you wanna do?” he asks slowly, trying to make his words clear. The question is so simple but admitting it to him makes you feel small again.

“I… I want to touch you,” you mumble, silently hoping he doesn’t ask you to be more explicit than that.

“You sure you want this?” His eyes never leave yours as he confirms your consent.

“I really do,” you reply, bringing your hand up and cupping his cheek. You brush your thumb over his skin and watch as he begins to shut his eyes and breathe deeply. “Please?”

You’re not sure if it’s the quiet plea, his own craving that’s swaying his decision, or some combination of the two, but he slowly uncurls his fingers from your wrist. You beam brightly at him and whisper a thanks as you peck him on the cheek.

“You’re still gonna have to walk me through it, Frank,” you say through a small chuckle.

He nods with an equally quiet, “I know.”

From there, he doesn’t try to deter your movements any longer. He lets you continue as you slide his belt past the metal buckle. You look up at him for reassurance and he nods his head with a smile. He takes your hand in his and pulls it to his bulge, letting you feel it properly for the first time. Excitement races through you and settles in your lower stomach as you watch your hand touch him over the denim.

“Can I take your jeans off?” Your question is met with another nod as he lets go of you. Slipping the button past the slit, you then lower the zipper past the teeth and the sound feels so loud in the otherwise silent room. You move to sit beside him and Frank helps you tug his pants down, raising his hips to lower them some more until they fall past his knees. He’s wearing a pair of dark grey boxer briefs and your eyes linger far too long on how they hug his thighs.

The thick outline stretching the fabric is enough to recenter your attention though. You start to feel the nerves coming back once you register just how big he is as he lies against his hip. You always had a feeling, given the sheer size of the man, but seeing it is a whole other experience. Thankfully, Frank doesn’t rush you as he lets you take this all in. You hesitantly move your hand over the length of him, brushing your fingers over the defined line underneath the head of his cock.

The next thing you reach for is the waistband of his boxers. You curl your fingers over the edge and tug them down, watching as more and more of his happy trail becomes exposed. He once again helps you pull them past his legs and now that he’s bare in front of you, you can’t help your eyes from widening. You had thought the bulge was big, but it was misleading; Frank is actually much larger than you had anticipated.

“What? You’ve never seen—?” He starts but you’re quick to cut him off.

“I have. I’ve seen, like, porn before but…” you find your voice leaving you as you stare between his legs. “It’s just bigger in person.” His chuckle sounds out and you raise your head to the noise only to be met by an amused smirk at your confession.

“S’not just cause it’s in person, kid,” he laughs through his words and you roll your eyes at his cockiness. You like that you can still crack jokes during a time like this and you find yourself thankful that you get to have Frank as your first introduction to sex. Feeling more relaxed, you reach forward and gently curl your fingers around his thick base.

“You can hold it tighter than that,” he speaks up after a second.

“I know,” you respond, tightening your hold on him a little more. He snorts lightly at the, apparently, subtle increase in pressure and you feel his larger hand curling around your own. His long fingers squeeze over yours, adjusting your grip on his length as he begins to move your hand up and down. He’s warm and heavy in your hand, two things you hadn’t given much thought of before now. Frank lifts your hand once more and a satisfied sigh leaves him.

The sound stirs something in your stomach and you try to swallow down your own growing arousal at the noise he’s making. He loosens his hold on you and you watch as his hands find the hem of his shirt before bunching it up and exposing the lower half of his stomach. There’s so much to look at and it’s pulling your attention in too many ways. You try to focus on him in your hand though and begin speeding up your movements.

“You can spit on it,” he speaks up after a few seconds. You turn to face him and feel your eyebrows pull together at his words.

“Like just… spit on it?” The confusion is more than likely obvious in your tone but you want to ensure that you don’t embarrass yourself with him. Not now when you’ve made it this far.

“Yeah, go for it,” he encourages gently. With one last glance at him, you lean forward and lower your head over his length. You purse your lips and part them as you let the split slowly drip until it’s sliding over his head. You watch as it runs down past the tip and Frank clears his throat.

“Shit, yeah that…” he trails off as he raises his hips slightly. “That works too.” You smile at his words and wonder if his movement was an instinctual reaction to the warmth running along the smooth skin of his cock.

With the help of the extra slick added to his length, you begin to work your hand faster on him. You know from what you’ve heard that the tip is more sensitive, so you raise your hand right underneath his head and tighten your grip. A grunt immediately falls from him and you impulsively let go of him. You face him with a worried expression and watch as he brings in a deep breath before swallowing thickly.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. Just felt real damn good.” The praise in his words immediately rushes to your heart and you feel yourself swell with pride. You can’t believe you made him feel that good, but now you’re determined to see what other sounds you can pull from his pretty lips. As you focus your attention back to his cock, you see a few beads of precum beginning to bubble up at his swollen tip. You rub your thumb in circles over the slit, spreading around the proof of his pleasure, and you feel him twitch in your hold.

“Shiiiiiit,” the drawn out curse sounds raspy and you don’t stop your movements as you check once again to see his reaction. Frank’s head is tilted back slightly against the couch cushion, his mouth is parted, and his eyes are scrunched up slightly. You try your hardest to memorize this version of him. You wish you could ingrain this memory so you’ll never forget how good he looks when he’s succumbing to his pleasure.

Twisting your hand as you move it over his length, you notice the way his adam's apple bobs as he swallows down presumably another groan. You can’t resist the urge to feel even more of him, and press your lips against his neck. Lazy kisses are littered across his skin while you work your hand faster, intermittently tightening your hold on his thickness. His throat tightens as he feels the wet marks of your affection, and the next thing you feel is his fingers tangling in your hair. He pulls gently as he tugs your head up to his and he kisses down your surprised gasp, his tongue slipping into your mouth.

You’re having trouble keeping up with his movements and you realize this must be what it’s like to be kissed breathlessly. Any moment you get, you’re greedily gulping down air before he continues his ravenous attack on your lips. You never slow the speed of your hand and press yourself against his side, trying to feel more of him to satiate your need. Frank tries to break the kiss but you push against him harder, not wanting to let go for a second. But he tries again, grabbing your wrist gently and you immediately pull away with a frown.

“What did I do?” you ask in a worried tone. He’s quick to lock his eyes with yours and speaks clearly.

“You’re okay. You’re doing so good, sweetheart,” he starts, and then nods down towards his lap. “I’m almost there, kid. Just wanted to warn you before it happens.” And just like that, a wide grin splits across your face. I’m making him feel that good?!

“I really wanna make you come, Frank,” you tell him honestly and you notice his cock twitch slightly as he registers your words.

“You keep talking like that and you will,” he grumbles in a low voice. His tone almost seems as if it was meant as a warning, but all it does is add to the fire in the pit of your stomach. You’re quick to reach for him again and fall back into the rhythm you established just seconds ago. With each pass of your hand you feel the veins protruding slightly through his skin and make sure to add slightly more pressure to the ring underneath his tip—he seemed to like that in particular.

“Just like that—fuck, attagirl,” he breathes through gritted teeth while he stares down at your smaller fingers wrapped snugly around him. The praise courses through you and you hide your face in his neck. You place sloppy kisses under his jaw and listen as more grunts start to fall from his parted lips. They slowly twist into a new sound and it takes you a second to realize it’s your name that’s coming out in a twisted groan. You glance down and watch as he raises his hips for a moment to chase after the feeling of you, his orgasm following soon after.

One long moan falls from him as warmth spills over your hands. You make sure not to miss a single second and don’t dare slow down or pull away. You want Frank to feel as good as possible and so you’ll drag this out for as long as you can. White begins to coat his head and the rest of his length as you continue moving over him. It isn’t until he reaches for your wrist that you take notice of the way his thigh is tense and you let go to give him some relief.

“T…That’s enough,” he pants as he speaks through uneven breathing. You mumble an apology as you snuggle into his side again, leaving the remainder of your kisses on his collarbone. His hand rubs at your back while he regains his breath and you feel him press his lips to your forehead.

“Jesus Christ,” he whispers, and you follow his gaze to the mess in his lap. His cock lies on his hip, all spent and giving a weak twitch once or twice. You don’t even try to hide the smile that grows on your face at the sight.

“Oh, you proud of yourself, huh?” he asks through a fit of chuckles. “You should be,” he holds you to his side again. “Did so fuckin’ good.” You feel another long kiss to the side of your head. Pride isn’t even a strong enough word to describe how you feel at this moment.

“Thank you, Frank,” you smile up at him.

“Thank me? Nah, you did all that,” he brushes it off just like last time. “Thank you for making me feel good, kid. You were absolutely perfect.” The warmth spreading to your cheeks makes you hide your face in his chest again. You weren’t really sure how a scene like this was supposed to normally end, but Frank doesn’t say anything more. He keeps you close in his arms and you can still hear his pulse attempting to slow in his chest. For now, you don’t want to question what comes next; for once, you’re comfortable exactly where you are.

Taglist: @chellestrash @avengerstower-houseplant @musicals-and-mermaids @castle-of-ruin @justalittlepickle @boo8008 @doublevirgogirl @xxdrixx @yaminax @nabiiturner @imwaytoolazyforthis @vechkinfan @himesuedi @0-goblin-0 @soleilcastle @innebulae @punishersmainchick @eddiemunsonsbelover @tea-drinking-nerd

#new writing record WOOO! i just couldn't shut the hell up :)#frank castle x reader #frank castle smut #frank castle fanfiction #frank castle fic #jon bernthal fanfiction #jon bernthal fic #the punisher fanfiction #the punisher fanfic #chelsea writes

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lee-laurent · 5 months ago

Text

Caught (Red-Handed) - Quinn Hughes

Summary: Sneaking out to see her boyfriend isn't as easier as she thought it would be

notes: i know this is a cliche plot. but i have writers block. so here we are. sorry :/ cute little summer romance tho with some drama

content: fluff, angst, kissing, mentions of sex but no actual smut, mentions of being a "puck bunny", slight age gap, supposed cheating (it's not really. you'll see)

Veronica Zegras was head over heels in love with Quintin Hughes. She had been since Jack and Trevor were in the USNTDP and she'd met him when going with their mom to pick up Trevor from the Hughes' house.

In fact, when she thought of that day it still made her heart flutter all these years later.

"Wanna come in with me? Officially meet the Hughes? They have a son your age... Luke, I think," Julie smiled at her daughter.

"No."

"I wasn't really asking, V. Let's go."

The girl sighed, following her mom to the front door. Veronica hated meeting new people.

"Julie! Hi! And this must be Veronica," the blonde woman that opened the door smiled widely.

"Hi," Veronica waved slightly, peering behind the woman into the house.

"Come in! Come in! The boys are just cleaning up the game they were playing in the basement."

Veronica followed her mom, to the living room. Her eyes falling on the teenage boy fiddling with an Xbox controller.

"This is my oldest, Quinn. Quinn, this is Trevor's sister, Veronica."

"Hi," he paused his game, smiling shyly.

Veronica felt her cheeks heat up. He was so cute! She felt herself squeal on the inside when he smiled at her. She wasn't one for talking about boys with her friends, mostly because all her friends thought Trevor was cute (ew.) but she was definitely going to tell them about this Quinn character.

"Trevor! Your mom is here!"

"COMING!"

The sound of loud footsteps running up the stairs filled the room, but Veronica had yet to take her eyes off the cute boy sitting on the couch.

"What's Ronnie doing here?" Trevor questioned. Veronica cringed when she heard Jack laugh at her nickname.

"She's going to her friend's house. Now hurry up before we make your sister late."

"Whatever," Trevor rolled his eyes, "Later, Jack. See ya, Quinn."

"Bye. Bye, Veronica. It was cool meeting you," Quinn smiled.

"You too," she blushed, rushing out of the house before her brother noticed.

"What're you thinkin' about?" Quinn asked, brushing some of her hair from her eyes.

"Hm?"

"What're you thinkin' about?" he repeated, a smile covering his face.

"You."

"What about me?"

"The first time we met."

Quinn laughed, "When I didn't even get off the couch to say 'hi?''"

"Yeah, but I still thought you were cute."

"Oh, I knew."

"What?! You never told me that!!"

"You were blushing the whole time. It was funny."

"You're so mean," she pushed him away teasingly, pouting at his words.

"I am not. You love me," he pulled her closer to him, pressing kisses all over her face. She giggled, finally planting one on his mouth.

"I do."

"Do what?" he smirked.

"I love you, Q."

"And I love you, V."

Quinn leaned in, kissing her hungrily. She wrapped her arms around his neck, allowing him to roll her onto her back. She giggled, breaking the kiss. He rolled his eyes, going in for another one. Just as his hand was sneaking under her shirt, the door swung open.

"God! You two are like fucking rabbits," Luke complained, shielding his eyes with his hand.

"Shut up," Quinn spat, pulling the covers over them to give them at least some decency.

"Keep this up and it'll be Trevor that walks in next time."

"What do you want?" Veronica sighed.

"Trevor is up. Thought you might wanna go back to your own room for when he decides to come 'wake you up,'" Luke suggested. "If I walk in you two having sex one more time, I'm never helping you again."

"We weren't having sex."

"You were getting there," Luke scoffed, closing the door as he walked off.

"See you for breakfast, babe," Veronica kissed Quinn one last time, pulling her long shirt down to cover her ass as she ventured down the hall to the room she was supposed to be sleeping in.

Luke had found out the two were dating two months prior and had promised to keep in under wraps, mostly because Quinn threatened to kill him if he told anyone. It wasn't that the couple didn't want to tell Trevor and Jack, it's just that they liked being in their own little bubble. And Trevor would actually freak out if he found out his 20-year-old sister was dating a 24-year-old. He was weird like that. Trevor knew she had a boyfriend, but he didn't who he was. He didn't even know his name.

"Morning, Q! How'd you sleep?" Trevor asked, annoyingly awake for it only being 8:30.

"Great," Quinn sighed, rubbing his eyes.

"V still sleeping?" Jack asked Trevor, slicing some strawberries for breakfast.

"Probably. She was probably up all night texting her boyfriend. Mom said they're doing a 'long distance summer' or some shit."

"She's still seeing him?"

"Yeah," Trevor shrugged, stealing one of the berries. "Why do you sound so surprised?"

"Just thought she would've ended things by now. Your sister isn't known for her commitment," Jack replied, pulling the bowl away from his friend.

Quinn rolled his eyes at the remark. He knew standing up for her would seem suspicious, so he kept his lips sealed. Sure, before she'd made the move to Vancouver the year before, Quinn would also question Veronica's commitment issues, but their relationship was proof that it was all just in the boys' heads.

"Her puck bunny era ended," Cole laughed.

Trevor chuckled, "Yeah, like a month after she moved to Vancouver. Guess the Canucks just aren't her type."

God, he couldn't be more wrong. In fact, the front man for the Canucks was the definition of her type.

"I'm going to wake her up."

"Have fun."

Trevor bounced up the stairs, knocking aggresively on the door of the room his sister was staying in, "Rise and shine, bitch!! Boat day!!"

"I'm coming!" she yelled back, fixing her hair in her phone camera.

"Hurry up before we eat all the food."

"Your fat ass would!" she retorted, pushing past him to go downstairs.

"I'm not fat! Jack, tell Ronnie that I'm not fat!"

Jack laughed, almost choking on his toast, "He's not fat, Ronnie! Jeez!"

"He eats like he is," she winked at Quinn, grabbing the piece of toast he was about to bite. He rolled his eyes, reaching for another.

"You finally gonna wakesurf, Ron?" Luke smiled cheekily.

"Hell no! And risk my life in front of you idiots, count me out."

"Bet you'd look hot doing it," Jack teased, earning a slap to the back of the head from Trevor.

"No, she'd look average as usual."

"Shut up, Trev. Fucking annoying ass," she mumbled to herself, stealing more food from Quinn's plate.

"Get your own," he grumbled, using his arms to guard his plate.

"But the food from your plate tastes better than food from my plate," she whined, trying to manoeuvre her way past his blockade.

The bickering between Veronica and Quinn was so usual that nobody even batted an eye, choosing to continue their own conversations while Veronica attempted to wrestle Quinn for his food.

"PUT ME DOWN!" she screeched, hit at his bare back as he marched outside with her thrown over his shoulder.

"If you promise to stop stealing my food," he smirked.

"NEVER!"

And with that her body hit the lake with a loud SPLASH! Veronica surfaced, coughing to clear the water from her nose. The rest of the boys had gathered at the sliding glass doors to the back porch, laughing loudly at the scene in front of them.

"I hate you!" she sputtered, pulling herself out of the water. She peeled her soaked t-shirt off, chucking it at Quinn. He laughed, admiring her figure as she sauntered back to the house, hair dripping wet.

The group gathered on the boat, Veronica changed into dry clothes. She hated sitting there all wet and cold, especially with the wind from the boat. Quinn was driving and she was sat in the passenger seat as always... Quinn's passenger princess.

"Why does Ronnie get to sit next to Quinn?" Trevor whined, "Maybe I wanted to sit next to Quinn."

"Pretty privilege. You'd never understand," Veronica sassed, pulling her sunglasses off her head.

"Who told you that you're pretty?" Trevor scoffed.

"My boyfriend."

"Are we sure he's real?"

"Rude! He's very real."

"Yeah, he's just Canadian," Jack laughed.

"My boyfriend doesn't go here. He's Canadian," Cole joked.

"Shut up!" she pouted, crossing her arms over her chest. "Hate you dumbasses. Should've gone on a girls' trip."

"Alright, who's surfing first?" Quinn asked, ending the petty argument about how real his girlfriend's boyfriend was.

"Are you sure you're not mad?" Trevor asked again, watching as his sister rummaged through the fridge for vodka he'd hidden from her.

"I'm not mad, Trev. Just drop it."

"I didn't mean to embarass you in front of the guys. I swear."

"Trev, I said it's fine. Where's the alcohol?"

"You're not drinking."

"What? Why not?"

"Cause you always get wayyyy too touchy-feely when you drink."

She rolled her eyes, going to find her boyfriend. He'd get her alcohol. Her knuckles rapped against his door.

"Come in! Oh, hey, baby. What's up?"

"Trev hid the alcohol from me," she starfished on his bed.

"Why?" he asked, pulling out some regular shorts to change into.

"He said I get too 'touchy-feely' when I drink."

"I mean..."

"Shut up. You're supposed to be on my side."

"I'm not saying I'm on his side, babe. It's just... he kinda has a point."

"Quiiiiinnnnnn."

"Why don't you do that water bottle trick you showed me?"

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. I won't say anything. Just... try to keep your hands to yourself."

"But what if I wanna touch my super hot, hockey star boyfriend?" she smirked, placing her palms on his chest.

"I'd strongly advise against it. But... if you come to sleep in here tonight, I won't argue," he replied, leaning down to kiss her.

"I love you, Qball."

"Love you too, V."

Veronica had emptied a quarter of a plastic water bottle, filling the rest with vodka. It was a trick she'd made in high school, one that her brother still hadn't picked up on. She was sat next to Quinn, slowly sipping at her 'water.'

Luke, who was also underage, was allowed to drink. But not her. Whatever. Quinn would make up for it. He always did.

"How's school?" Cole asked, sipping his beer.

"Oh, it's good. Almost done."

"You, uh, you live on campus?"

"No, I have my own place."

That was a lie. She lived with Quinn.

"How's that? Lonely?" Jack questioned.

"Not really. I have friends that come over like every day."

"And her boyfriend," Trevor smiled.

"Yeah. And my boyfriend."

"How long have you guys been together?"

"A year back in June," she grinned, noticing the blush covering Quinn's face.

"Damn. Getting serious?"

"Uh, I guess."

"He gonna meet Trev soon?"

"Whenever he's ready," she nodded, taking a much larger sip of her drink.

"Who? Trev or your boyfriend?"

"Both," she cackled, side-eyeing Quinn.

The rest of the night went smoothly and Veronica was just about to make her way down the hall to Quinn's room. She had brushed her teeth, put on her cutest pjs (one of Quinn's old Canucks shirts and a pair of tiny shorts), and fixed her hair from the lake water.

"Hey, babe," he smiled, putting his phone down on his bedside table.

"Hi," she beamed, sliding into the bed next to him.

"Nice shirt."

"Thanks. I stole it from this loser I know."

"Loser, huh? I would've guessed he was like super cool and hot."

"Meh."

"Oh, that's it," he laughed, attacking her with kisses. He pinned her wrists down, their teeth clashing as they kissed. It was sloppy and they were both a bit tipsy, but God did they love kissing. They'd do it all day, every day if they could.

She hummed, feeling his hands reach under her shirt. They skimmed the skin of her chest, his lips coming down to press wet kisses along her neck.

She gasped at the feeling, "No marks."

"I know," he groaned, "Can I take this off?"

"The shirt?"

"Yeah."

"Sure," she helped him pull it over her head, laying back down on the pillows.

"Fuck, you're perfect, V."

"That's all you, Q."

Just as he was about to snake his hand higher up her thigh, the door opened.

"You didn't lock it?!" she whisper-shouted.

"No?"

"What the hell?!" Trevor jumped, covering his eyes.

Quinn was quick to pull his shirt off, using it to cover his girlfriend.

"You can uncover your eyes," the older boy sighed.

"What is going on?! Veronica! You HAVE A BOYFRIEND! You're cheating on him with QUINN?!"

She rolled her eyes, "No, Trev-"

"You clearly are!"

"No, Trevor. I'm not cheating on my boyfriend. Quinn is my boyfriend."

"WHAT?!"

"Yeah, surprise?" she shrugged, smiling sheepishly.

"Your boyfriend of a year?"

"Yeah."

"The boyfriend Mom said gave you a promise ring?"

"Yeah."

"There's no way."

Quinn flipped his phone around, showing his wallpaper to Trevor. It was a picture of the couple at family skate, laughing at something someone behind the camera had said.

"WHAT?!"

Veronica laughed, making Trevor frown.

"This is insane. I'm going to bed. This is just a weird dream," he walked off.

"I wonder what he's gonna say in the morning when he finds out it was real," Veronica giggled.

"Doesn't matter right now. Now, where were we?"

#nhl imagine #nhl fic #hockey imagine #hockey fic #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes #trevor zegras

389 notes · View notes

girlboybug · 6 months ago

Text

daddy issues

“you ask me what i'm thinkin' about, i tell you that i'm thinking about whatever you're thinking about."

or the one where your boyfriend reminds you that you’re all he could ever want.

*unedited*

what’s playing 🎧: daddy issues by the neighbourhood

pairing : dilf!farleigh start x fem!reader (afab bodied)

word count : 3k

CONTENT WARNINGS : SMUT, age gap, dilf farleigh au mmm can you tell i’m ovulating, un protected sex, breeding kink, light impact play (he slaps reader a few times but nothing crazy), spitting, brief mentions of an exhibitionistic fantasy, size kink if you squint, cervix kissing yum, slight manhandling :3

TRIGGER WARNINGS : light slapping but nothing harsh and it’s all consensual, ermmm age gap with a power imbalance both professionally and morally but it’s all legal and reader is of age. if i’ve missed anything pls lmk.

a/n : hi guys! i know it's been a while since i've posted any work and i'm so sorry to anyone who has been wanting any updates. i missed you all, but life has been not the best. i won't share whats been going on, as tumblr is a safe space for me and id rather not bring my real life troubles onto here. i hope you guys enjoy this and forgive me for my absence <3

“you’re staring.” he says, not bothering to meet your eyes. you clear your throat, feeling flushed when you look away. “sorry.” you mumble, holding your legs close to your chest. farleigh sighs, shutting down his laptop and swiveling around in his chair before making his way towards you on the bed. your body lights up the second his proximity to you gets a little closer, and he sees it.

it’s hard to not see it.

he knows you try to hide it, to not seem like such an eager little girl, but your internal excitement when it comes to him is just so visibly external. it’s cute, it’s honest and it’s sweet, it’s one of the reasons why he likes you so much.

you welcome him in with open arms, parting your legs for him to climb in between and nestle himself into. he picks you up from the mattress with ease, his large hands supporting you by the hips and the bottom of your ass to reposition you on top of him.

he rests his hands on your thighs, watching as you rest yours on his broad chest, gently smoothing down the material of his white button up, the small embroidered dior catching your eye on the inside of his collar.

“you’ve been quiet today.” he states, his warm hands bringing life to your skin beneath your silk slip. “because you told me to be,” you frown, slumping. he laughs, twiddling with the lace hem at the bottom of your short little slip. “yeah, but you never actually listen.” his thumb guides your chin upwards, pulling your gaze back up to his eyes. “so what’s making you actually listen today?” he asks softly, his hand engulfing your cheek. you lean into his palm, sighing to yourself.

“i dunno,” you shrug, feeling small under his stare. “you dunno?” he repeats back, semi mockingly, but mostly full of endearment. you huff, glaring at him. he laughs again, and it makes something stir in your stomach. everything about him is so attractive, it can be upsetting at times. sometimes inconvenient.

there’s been more times you can count where you’ve sat on the sidelines while he conducts business meetings, strikes deals, makes compromises that are really more so situations that fully benefit him but worded to make it seem like they benefit the other person as well — and other business-y jargon you can hardly keep up with. but it doesn’t matter if you understand what’s going on or not, every time you sit and watch him in his element it lights a desire to stick your hand under your skirt and take care of the ache beginning to build.

it’s just so hot seeing him be ahead of every single one of his colleagues, running circles around them with ease. his intelligence and capability is just so alluring. you think that it comes with his age too, the experience, the knowledge on life. you’ve always thought older men were the standard for attractiveness, and when you met farleigh, he somehow managed to raise the standard you had set in the stars and bring it to a level far beyond that.

but with that, comes a sense of competitiveness with other women in his field. all closer to his age, more experienced than you are in almost every important aspect. it makes you a little insecure from time to time. you’re the first woman in her mid twenties he’s been with since he was in his mid twenties. he’s now approaching his early forties and it makes you nervous that maybe one day your company will bore him and he’ll crave someone else who can keep up with him.

this morning at the bright and early hour of 7am, that fear was reignited in you. you watched from your desk, as your boss, your boyfriend, discuss things you don’t think you’d even really be able to understand, with a beautiful woman in his office. a woman closer to his age.

you watched as he laughed with her, as he let her run her hand down his forearm, watching as he let her hug him before she exited. to wrap a neat bow around the shit filled box, she made it a point to send a condescending smile to you on her way out, almost like she just knew.

but, you know she’s just a coworker, she’s not even in the same department as he is, and is usually located in another location across the state but it felt horrible to see them interact. and it felt even worse knowing they would look good together, complementing one another with a high sense of class and elegance.

farleigh anchors you back to him, squeezing your hip and gently patting your cheek. “what’s going on in that head of yours?” he murmurs, looking at you intently. “hmm?”

“do you think i’m too young for you?” you suddenly ask, eyes already lined with tears. he’s a bit taken aback, not expecting the line of questioning. he takes a moment, swiping away your fallen tears. “no, i don’t. if i did, this—we wouldn’t be happening.” he says clearly, matter of factly, but there’s gentleness in his words, he wants to wipe away any doubt that might linger in your mind about you two. “why? do you think i’m too old for you?” he questions further, sitting up and pulling you along with him, making sure with every movement you remain close. you shake your head, sniffling.

“no,” you huff. “but i was watching you with…that woman in your office and i just…” you trail off, looking down at his button up again, smoothing down invisible wrinkles.

“got a little jealous?” he can’t help the smile that grows on his face and raises his tone, it’s embarrassing and you return his inflating ego with a silencing glare. “yes.” you admit, somewhat annoyed, but you know it stems from your insecurity and fear that he’ll confirm it.

“baby,” he sighs playfully, shaking his head. “i’m far from interested in her. i’ve got my eye on a new girl,” he grins, his tongue poking his cheek. “yeah?” you ask, folding your arms across your chest, suppressing your smile. “who is she?”

he looks off to the side wistfully, exhaling with desire. “ohh i don’t think you’d know her,” he waves you off, sighing when he leans back into the headboard. “she’s my secretary. she wears these tight little pencil skirts, and she has a habit of bending over often. i think she does it on purpose.” he adds, his hands running up and down your thighs. your efforts in keeping a straight face fall flat, your smile betraying them and perking the corners of your lips.

“oh really?” you giggle, leaning forward. “why don’t you make a move on her?” you tilt your head, wondering what his answer will be. “i’m thinking about it. i’m thinking about telling her how i watch her from my office when she thinks i can’t see her, how i think about bending her over her own desk and fucking her in front of all the little boys in their cubicles who think they have a chance with her.”

warmth floods your cheeks like a tide pool, dragging you into the depths of nervousness. his smart tongue and dirty mouth still manage to catch you off guard, never failing in making you flustered and shy. he loves it, he loves how easy it is to play with you.

you can feel him getting hard under you, and it excites you, it makes that familiar ache trickle all over. “i don’t think she’d be against that.” you reply, trying to hide the shakiness in your words, but he hears it. he can always see through you and your little acts.

“oh you think so?” he hums, squeezing your hips. you nod, leaning in closer, nudging your nose with his. “i think so.” you whisper, your lips brushing against his.

“you feel that?” he murmurs, lightly grinding his bulge against your panty clad cunt. you whimper softly, nodding. “it’s only ever for you,” he breathes out, pressing his lips to your lovingly with a chaste kiss. he peppers kisses to your lips over and over until he sinks into you, pulling you in with a hand behind your head.

he moans into your mouth, gripping your hips and planting you firmly on his cock, rocking into you with haste. the pressure and friction ripples through your cunt, nudging your clit just the way you need. you cup his cheeks while you kiss farleigh, melting into him and sighing with content when he migrates from your lips, sucking hot bruises into the side of your neck.

“i need you,” you whimper, meaning the sentiment in more ways than one. farleigh is the only man who’s ever made you feel the way that you do, emotionally and physically. you’ll always need him, whether it be a strong shoulder to cry on, or a strong shoulder to bite into when he’s got you nearly folded in half, fucking you stupid.

“how bad?” he breathes out, bringing his hand between your grinding hips, pressing his long fingers firmly against your cunt. he can feel the dampness seep through the material, laughing smugly when you gasp. “real bad huh?” he adds, humming in agreement when you nod dumbly. “i know baby,” he coos, kissing the space beneath your ear.

you shrug off the spaghetti straps of your slip, a breath of a shock being pulled from your lips when he acts faster than you, eagerly tugging down the white silk material to expose your bare chest. he groans to himself, lurching forward and taking your soft flesh in his mouth.

you arch your back closer to him, eyes fluttering shut and mouth agape with soft moans trickling out into the dimly lit room. he plays with you, rutting his hips into yours, hands and tongue lapping up and groping your breasts, hungrily squeezing, licking and nipping at your flesh.

your hands play with the curls at the back of his neck, tugging with a gasp when you feel his teeth graze your nipples. “farleigh,” you whine, throwing your head back, trying to grind harder on his cock. “need you,” he kisses your sternum, looking up at you with his hands far beneath your slip, wrapped around your sides, fingers gently skimming across your ribs. “i’m right here baby,” his voice cascading around you like caramel, enveloping you in its golden hue, rich and sweet.

he pushes your dampened panties to the side, groaning to himself at the sight of your cunt glistening. he thumbs at your lips, sighing lowly and spreading you apart.

his thumb rubs over your clit, chuckling when your lips part and a shaky moan escapes out. he rescinds his warm touch faster than you would’ve appreciated, softly cooing away your sounds of disappointment. he lifts you off of his lap, laying you gently down on your back. his large hand cradles the back of your head, lowering you down onto the pillow below you.

he unties his tie, discarding it somewhere to be found by the maids in the morning, a shaky sigh fluttering from your lips at the view of him above you. the soft glow of the lamp on your shared nightstand wafts all around him, tracing the outline of his full curls, highlighting his cheekbones and drawing a line down the bridge of his nose. his lips tempt you without having to move at all, no movements in forming words, he just stares at you and with that alone, you’re a perfect malleable thing ready for whatever he has planned.

“you’re beautiful,” he states in a breath of admiration, leaning back down towards you. “my girl,” he sighs, kissing your neck, breathing in the dainty vanilla, floral scent from the dolce & gabbana perfume you begged him for. but beneath the expensive perfume is your scent. your sweet natural scent he can never seem to get enough of, always crouching down to hug you from the back and bury his nose in the crook of your neck, sniffing right at the sweet spot. and now, it just turns him on further, fishing out his cock from his dress slacks, too bothered to take the extra steps in sliding them off his hips, too eager, too desperate to feel you, to be close to you, to be in you.

he pushes in, tugging a deep gasp from the depths of your chest. he groans the second your cunt envelopes him in, gripping him in and squeezing. your walls pulse around the girth of him, trying to adjust to the intrusion. he grinds his hips, shuddering above you. “fuck baby,” he chuckles in disbelief, kissing your collarbone.

“god,” you choke out, swallowing thickly, dragging your fingertips down his back. he starts pivoting his hips deeper in you, slowly pumping in and out, wanting to take his time with you, relishing in being able to savor your cunt. it’s been a few weeks since you both have had sex, he’s just been so busy with work, he hasn’t had the time to fuck you like you deserve, but now he has all the time in the world, and he intends to use it until the very last second.

you feel so full of him and you find yourself somehow wanting more, wishing you could be with him deeper, but in the same breath as that thought, he knocks whatever you have left in your lungs right out, pushing into you deeper as if he could sense what you wanted. your calves rest on his lower back, keeping him flush inside you.

gentleness starts to shed, and an eager pace takes its place, his hips moving faster and his cock hitting harder. your clit brushes against his trimmed bristle of pubic hair, whimpering at the friction, tears already brimming your pretty eyes as he fucks you.

and then you say something you’ve never said before, never even really thought of or fantasized about, but as you stare at him, watching him fuck you like he owns you, you can’t help it from coming out. “hit me,” you whimper pathetically, hardened nipples pressed to his chest with desperation. he stills inside you for a moment, panting with a look of confusion, unsure if you really just said what you said.

“what baby?” he asks breathlessly, swallowing thickly. “hit me, touch me, please farleigh,” you plead, fisting at his button up, grinding your hips down to try and regain some friction. he’s ashamed with the way his cock twitches inside of you at your desperation. so unadulterated and unfiltered in the act of something so filthy.

his hips start moving again, and he’s grabbing at your face, squeezing your cheeks until your lips pucker. “open.” he commands, and like a dutiful believer, you obey, parting your mouth for him. he spits and you swallow without being told to, moaning with a gasp when his hand lands on your cheek afterwards with zero infliction of pain, but enough heaviness to remind you his strength is there. it’s simply withheld to avoid hurting you and bruising your pretty face.

your cunt squeezes around him, arching your back into his chest as his hips pivot harder into yours. he takes notice, landing another firm but lovingly smack across your cheek. before your moan gains sound, his large palm covers your mouth, his lips finding your ear. “be quiet and listen,” he murmurs, leaving the air silent. all you can hear is him fucking you, how wet and loud you are. “you’re so fucking wet,” he chuckles in your ear, and the moan that follows behind his palm just proves his point further.

“do you hear that?” he shoves his hips in, pinning yours down with his available hand, giving more access for him to push in deeper. the fat tip of his cock nudges at your cervix, filling you out more than anyone ever has. “making a mess all over my slacks baby.” he grunts, but there’s no complaints to be found.

when he finally removes his hand from your lips, he’s greeted with your heavenly moans, rendering him weak with his face in your neck, mouth baring hot kisses, groaning your name.

his hand that nearly dwarfs your face comes back down, slapping the side of your cheek, his warm palm cradling it after the impact, his thumb running along your pouring waterline. “my little crybaby,” he grunts with humor, his hand sliding from your cheek to the nape of your neck, his other hand following suit. he presses down, forcing you to crane your neck downward, focusing your gaze on the sight of his cock disappearing in and out of your puffy cunt. “watch.” he utters in your ear, his teeth catching your earlobe before he pulls away.

and you do.

you watch him take you over and over, his hips slamming into yours, occasionally stilling in you to let the weight of his cock buried deep inside you hang heavy.

your legs tremble around him, unable to soothe them from the adrenaline that comes with getting fucked. “touch yourself.” he exhales, bringing his lips to your forehead. “wanna feel you cum,” and that alone could have made you finish. you bring your fingers to your aching clit, moaning a drawn out whimper at the stimulation. he watches himself fuck you, how he stretches you out and how your cunt accommodates him every time.

“fuck,” you sob, panting heavily, sweat starting to collect around your neck and trickle between your breasts. “can i cum?” you plead through a choked moan, clit throbbing in excitement when he nods, picking up the pace in his thrusts. he releases your neck, traveling up to your jaw and bringing you closer to his mouth. his lips are pressed to your’s in milliseconds, drinking in every little sound you let out as he fucks you through your orgasm.

a bruising grip rests on your jaw and hip, like a wordless statement of how much of you belongs to him. which is everything. you can’t think of a single thing about you that you could say isn’t apart of farleigh; hell, you can’t think at all right now, not when your poor cunt is getting pounded into and your shaky fingers can’t seem to stop rubbing circles over your clit. the feelings that deluge through your body are addictive, it feels so good that it trickles into a delicious type of hurt.

you’ve already cum, its existence proven by the white ring around the base of his cock, the sight has your hole weakly tightening around him. with no forewarning, he pulls out, leaving you hollow and empty, wincing from the loss.

before you can voice your confusion and protests, he’s flipping you around, guiding your hips back up, large hand pressing your cheek into the pillows below you. he’s back in you as soon as he exited you, groaning lowly to himself. “fuckin’ perfect.” he grunts mostly to himself, his cock twitching at the sweet little gasp you let out from the new angle. he travels into you deeper this way, nudging your cervix with every other thrust.

he curls behind your back, his chest pressed flush against your shoulder blades, his lips nipping and sucking bruises into the crook of your neck, breathing in your earthy dulcet scent. he brings your wrists to the small of your back, keeping them in place while his thrusts start to become more and more sporadic. “gonna cum, tell me how bad you want it,” he grits, feeling his climax fast approaching, eager to finish to the sweet sound of you begging for his cum.

begging for him to cum inside of you is as easy as breathing, if not easier, since he always manages to take your breath away, whether that be by his charming smile or with his hand wrapped firmly around your throat. “please cum in me,” you sob, tears staining the white silk pillowcases. “wanna be full of you, please farleigh, i need it, need it so bad,” you babble mindlessly, trying to fuck your over sensitive cunt onto him, your ass meeting him with every pivot he sends into you.

normally, he’d push you a little more, too indulgent in his desires to let you have it that easily. but the way you fuck yourself onto him and cry for him is enough to make any man give in. his pants come out sharp, his thrusts matching the tempo of his thumping pulse, spilling into you with a loud groan of your name, his hips fused firmly to your ass. he pumps into a few more times, swallowing hard at the sight of his and your sticky cum and the mess it's made. “gonna pull out now baby,” he murmurs softly in your shoulder blade, kissing the skin lovingly. you wince, squeezing your eyes shut, collapsing back into the bed with your legs tucked close to you.

he crawls over on top of you, running his hands across your clammy forehead and temple. he peppers gentle kisses over your warm skin, humming quietly. “you okay?” he asks, laying beside you, pulling you into him after tucking himself back into his slacks. “mhm,” you nod lazily, shuffling around to face him. he chuckles, kissing your nose.

his arm wraps around you, securing you into his chest, rubbing your back in relaxing circles. his hand sneaks between your legs, scooping his cum with his fingers, shushing you playfully when you whimper, your hips shying away from his touch. “behave,” he chastises lightly, bringing his fingers to your lips. “open.” you open your bitten lips, tongue darting out along his digits, licking him clean. you hum something of approval, kissing the pads of his fingers before he pulls them away. “good?” he mumbles against your cheek. “good.” you confirm, kissing his hair.

he snakes his arms around your waist, unsatisfied with how far you feel from him wanting to be as close as humanly possible. you’ve always loved how touchy he remained after sex, used to the two pump and dump cycle you’ve had with past guys.

unlike them, farleigh isn’t just some guy, he’s a man – granted a man old enough to be your father, but that never bothered you, if anything it added to the appeal. but regardless of all of that, he loves you, loves being near you even in non-sexual contexts. he proves it every day, like he is now, whispering about how pretty you look right now. “i love you,” he says softly, and it sounds like the first time he said it, gentle and nervous. it makes you smile, opening your heavy eyes to peer into his. “i love you.” you repeat back with just as much truth and confirmation. “i love you,” you kiss him, sealing your promise with your lips pressed together.

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