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kianely · 1 year ago

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“HOLD ME, KISS ME”

i. PAIRING — Leon Kennedy x GN!Reader

ii. SYNOPSIS— Aware that your boyfriend hasn’t been granted the privilege of a homemade meal in ages, you decided to pull out your family’s recipe book and stir something up for him. He showed his appreciation in more ways than one, how could he not reward his little chef after all your time tinkering in the kitchen?

iii. CONTENT WARNINGS— Fluff to eventual smut (MDNI) Leon’s a bit awkward with his feelings, he scarfs down every last crumb on his plate, oral sex, fingering, creampie (reader receives all), mentions of aftercare, Leon calls reader “baby” and “sweetheart.” I left the contents of the meal as ambiguous, because I wanted it to depend on the reader’s own upbringing and culture. Written with RE4 Leon in mind.

iv. WORD COUNT— 4.6K

01— PREPARATION

Leon couldn’t remember the last time he was given the simple joy of eating a homemade meal. No, he grew up accustomed to enjoying the lunch trays that all schools gave out. He’d block out the noises of his peers complaining about the blandness of the food, because that food was the standard for him. The flavor of the dishes his orphanage provided is committed in his memory, a hint of nostalgia when he looks back on it.

And of course, the same followed into his academy and career. He’d eat institutional meals during his academy days, too wrapped up in his extensive training to pick up on cooking skills himself. MRE’s were obviously his go to during his government training period, and that followed into the missions he was deployed on.

To sum it up, the last homemade meal he probably had was when his parents were alive. He would never complain about it, far too grateful of a person to even see it as an issue—he would take what was provided, with an appreciative mindset.

You’re a sweetheart though, his sweetheart. And after learning the extent of his past, god you wished you had met him sooner. Because for as long as you’ve dated him, you can’t remember a single time where Leon mentioned an individual that was even remotely significant to him prior to his government days. Well—aside from a girlfriend who hastily broke up with him, and you just presumed she hadn’t been the best considering how little Leon had to say about her. Couldn’t even remember her face or voice anymore, he claimed. And you believed him, rightfully so. Leon looked at you as if you were more fascinating than the wonders of space, with no trace of feelings for any prior people he had been in a relationship with. You were the star on top of the Christmas tree for him.

Lounging lazily on your couch, a sleepy grunt brought your attention to Leon—who had come over to your house for a movie night. But he always ended up napping or resting his eyes for a good half an hour, feeling safe only in your presence and allowing his guard to lower. He was snuggled against you, head against your chest and an arm around your midsection.

You always let him sleep a little, it could do some good against those growing eye bags of his. He always liked it—resting against you, feeling safe with you by his side and the comforting golden like hue the lamp on your tableside emitted. The only time he could allow his mind to rest was with you, it was reasonable.

Your nose was stuck between the pages of your family’s old recipe book. The pages were old—wrinkled and a far cry from the original brightness of the white sheet of paper it once was. You wanted to cook something for him. But you didn’t want it to be something off of a google website or youtube tutorial. You wanted something authentic to your upbringing, that way it would be more meaningful and you wouldn’t be going into it completely blind.

Yeah, of course Leon has eaten at your house before. But…it’s always been microwaveable food or something that could be made within five minutes, like eggs— not anything that you actually put your entire heart into. He was big on dinner dates at restaurants, so the topic of cooking was never really brought up. You wanted to make him an actual meal. One with sides and maybe a small dessert, you’d seen the way Leon eats—you’d definitely need to make enough for seconds. With that physique and job of his, god knows he needs his energy.

“Mm,” a soft mumble from Leon, who was beginning to stir awake after a short but very much needed nap, his light colored eyelashes were beginning to flutter.

You laughed quietly, threading your fingers through his tousled hair. “Hey, sleepyhead.”

He let out an amused exhale at the nickname he had earned, the corners of his lips curled up a little into a lazy smile. “Oh, is that what I am now?”

“Mhm. Keep it up and I’ll have to start charging you for using me as a pillow.” Your voice was a playful one, spoken through a laugh as you hid the recipe book behind the pillow your head was propped against. It can’t be a surprise if he caught a glimpse, right?

“You can have every last penny in my damn bank account,” was his response—to which you simply snickered over. His American Express Black visa card was like an endless void of wealth.

Leon rolled one of his shoulders to remove some kinks as he sat up properly, missing your comforting body warmth already.

He always looked the prettiest like this: somewhat messy golden hair, slight flush on his cheeks, sleepy eyes that you didn’t want to look away from, and some marks on one of his cheeks from it being pressed up snugly against the fabric of your shirt.

“Looks like I missed the ending credits,” he glanced over at the now turned off television—he’d fallen asleep during the last half hour of the movie, like usual. Not that he was missing out, he had watched most movies so it wasn’t a bother. Plus, when it came time to actually sleep, like a healthy eight hours and all, he never could. So he took any nap time that his body granted him. “Can I put another one on?”

“Yeah, as long as you don’t yap my ear off about how silly the protagonists are again.” You could never escape hearing Leon’s muttered quips whenever the two of you watched something—it was funny, Leon had seen all the bigger issues in the world and yet he got frustrated by the decisions of fictional characters.

“What’s the fun in that?”

02— EXECUTION

You were given the perfect opportunity. Ingredients and dishes were already scattered all throughout your kitchen counters, and your recipe book was hoisted up nicely on a stand so it wouldn’t get dirty.

Leon was returning from a long briefing at his headquarters and the plan was for him to head directly to your house afterwards. He was going to go on a mission soon and his goal was always to spend as much time with you as possible. He’d latch onto your damn side all day, if he could.

You had the windows above the sink opened up to let some fresh air in, the curtains flowing a bit with each graze of breeze. It was cold as hell outside, but it helped ventilate all the heat that was gathering from the stove and oven. The television was on a low level, just some background noise to seep into the kitchen.

While you let some ingredients heat up on a large skillet, you cast your attention towards decorating the table up a bit. Not too much, but enough to make a difference. A candle of Leon’s favorite scent placed on the center of the surface, matching mugs already set—maybe they seemed a little too casual given the stupid puns written on them, but you figured Leon would appreciate it more than some fancy cups.

An hour and a half passed by and Leon was barely arriving, ready to complain about some of his rather annoying coworkers to you. If age didn’t give him gray hairs soon, the people in his line of work definitely would.

He had a set of keys to your house, fumbling with them as he unlocked the door.

“Hey, sweetheart.” His voice called out once he entered, for the sake of letting you know he wasn’t an intruder or anything. He usually expected to see you lounging on the couch, but not tonight. Instead, his senses were met with the tasty aroma coming from the kitchen, and the loud clatter of sounds from there as well.

Like a dog smelling a treat, his attention was immediately drawn and he naturally walked over to your kitchen, his curious eyes took in the scene.

Leon had seen a lot, inexplicable creatures that should have the power to make him still in his tracks—but they never did. Now, the sight of the homely decorated kitchen and the nice arrangement of plates on the kitchen table was something that made him pause in his steps. It looked straight out of a romance movie, something that would be described in a romance novel.

And you, the light of his life waiting for him with a small smile on your face. You looked a bit nervous, eyebrows furrowed together ever so slightly but still trying to muster some confidence.

Leon didn’t know whether he felt more like crying or grinning like a damn idiot. A mixture of the two, probably. The lump forming in his throat made him unable to vocalize his gratitude, his voice would crack and sound like a damn croak if he tried.

“Uh,” that’s all he could manage. He was usually good at showing his gratitude, but with such a thoughtful gesture like this, he felt all his known vocabulary scramble around in his mind into a jumbled mess.

“Penny for your thoughts?” You egged him on, wanting to hear the rest of his sentence—it wasn’t often you saw Leon all speechless, not with the banter and quips that came in his boyfriend package.

“That’s…” he trailed off, his hand motioning towards the scene you had oh so beautifully displayed for his eyes and use alone. “That’s just…” he looked over to you, corners of his eyes crinkling from the happiness that reached his eyes. “You did all this?”

His words were quiet, and for a second he feared you’d think he didn’t appreciate it. But he noticed the chuckle and shake of head you did at his performance. “Mhm, didn’t know it was possible for you to freeze up like this.”

He let out an exhale, grin forming on his face. God, he loved you.

“C’mere,” he muttered that out while moving towards you, enveloping your frame with his arms—having to hold back on squeezing you like he wanted to for the sake of not crushing your bones. He had a bad case of cuteness aggression for you.

The aroma of the food you cooked subsided when the scent of Leon’s cologne filled your senses instead—cool and earthy, one you could drown yourself in and pinpoint a mile away.

Leon kissed the top of your head as he articulated his thoughts, wanting to form them into actual words without spluttering—and without taking too much time because he’d be devastated if the meal you cooked for him went cold.

“You’re squishing me,” you grumbled, palms finding the surface of Leon’s chest and lazily trying to push him away. “Take a seat, it’s all ready.”

“I know, I know.” He placed his hands on your hips, guiding the two of you over to the table. He managed to land one last kiss against your forehead before fully parting. “It’s just really nice. I can’t even remember the last time I had—“

“A homemade meal?” You chimed in, to which he nodded as he sat down, his eyes flicking down to look at the food and sides more closely. His mouth was watering, he didn’t even need any utensils to dig in, he could just use his hands.

You knew him well, and reached over to playfully nudge his shoulder. “Don’t hold back on my sake,” You scooped up a spoonful of the food and brought it up towards his mouth. “Say ah…”

“Wish I could take a picture of this,” he grinned out, complying and opening his mouth for you to feed him.

You watched him eagerly as you set the spoon down against his plate and watched him chew, trying to hold back a smile—your eyes brimming with elation, your one true love was eating your meal, composed of all the love and emotion you poured into it.

Leon’s eyes shut with delight when his taste buds were flooded with all the savory flavors, letting out an involuntary groan. God, had he really been missing out on this for all these years?

There’d be mini hearts floating above his head if this were a cartoon. “Fuck, that’s good.”

“Yeah?” Your question came out a little more thrilled than you had hoped, and Leon caught onto it, you were so cute it was killing him.

“Yeah,” he echoed, hand reaching to hold yours over the table and giving it a gentle squeeze. “How long did it take you to do all this?”

While you responded, he was digging into the food—good thing you made seconds, because only a minute had passed and the surface of his plate was already beginning to show.

“—the time passed by really quickly though, when you unlocked the door I had barely served the food onto the plates. You got here right on time.”

You had never seen Leon eat this damn fast, maybe because the two of you usually ate in restaurants and he had to be a little courteous in public. Or maybe, he was making up for the years he had gone without the taste of a homemade meal.

“Easy there, tiger.” You were a little nervous he might fucking choke. What a way for your boyfriend to go, ‘death by choking on his partner’s food’ written on his gravestone. Would that be murder on your part? Anyways.

Leon’s cheeks blossomed with a rosy hue when he was called out, taking a breather instead of another mouthful. He felt spoiled now. You spoiled him. He had no idea how he would ever return to his bland tasting mission foods or even the dishes from the high rated food areas around, they all pale in comparison to your cooking. The secret ingredient they lacked was your love—the one thing that made his taste buds feel like they were swimming in an ocean of flavor.

“Sorry, it just really hits the spot.” He glanced over at your plate and realized that he was very much ahead, smiling bashfully to himself when he looked back up at you. “What can I say? Your cooking is delicious, none of it is going to go to waste.”

He looked over to the dessert you had made, it was untouched, there was no way in hell he was going to try it without you also finishing your plate of the main meal first, so the two of you could eat it at the same time. “So, what led to all this?” His question wasn’t a rude one, just out of pure awe and curiosity. What the hell had he done to deserve such a generous gesture?

“I dunno,” you shrugged out, not wanting to sound too sentimental or anything, “I just thought it would be nice.”

“C’mon, there’s gotta be more to it than that.”

“Well…” you trailed off, giving in and sighing. “You’ve trusted me with a lot of information about yourself and I love you. I thought that maybe instead of going out for dinner or ordering take out, I could give the kitchen a go and treat you to a hot and fresh homemade meal. It’s more special that way.”

“I love you too,” those words tumbled from his lips quietly, as if telling you the most valuable piece of information he holds. He felt his heart doing somersaults, already knowing he was going to spend his life reliving this memory, holding it close to him in a special pocket within the chambers of his heart.

The rest of the hour was spent domestically, sharing the dessert and Leon insisting that he clean everything up—from the dishes to wiping down the counters and sweeping the floor all while he listened in on you ramble about random things, he didn’t want to let you lift a single finger after all you had done for him. And of course, he took some mini breaks in between to snatch a sweet kiss from you, savoring the sweet taste of the dessert the two of you had eaten.

03— RESULTS (18+)

“Can’t believe you cooked for me,” Leon murmured against your ear, breath fanning over your skin as his hands snaked up and down your sides before settling on your hips. There was a rasp to his voice, a familiar one. He was starving despite the meal he had just eaten, every nerve in his body needing to feel you in order to truly feel full. He had a sweet tooth for you, and his craving needed to be satiated.

“I’m just glad you liked it,” you responded, mind already fuzzy with the way your lover’s hands grazed over you. “I was a little worried my cooking wouldn’t live up to all the 5 star restaurants we’ve eaten at.”

“Are you kidding?” His question was rhetorical, his mind set on a straight beeline to your bedroom. “Maybe I should show appreciation for my little chef then, hm?”

“Mm, maybe.”

That’s all it took for you to end up with your back against the headboard of your bed, legs spread with Leon adorning the space between them.

His moans were muffled against you, the vibrations sending blood straight to your bundle of nerves. He was so damn loud whenever he got a taste of you.

Leon’s hips were grinding against the mattress, cock leaking so much that his pants were surely already ruined. Yeah, he was so desperate to have his face stuffed against you that he didn’t even fucking unzip his pants.

You, on the other hand, were getting the best head of your life. One hand curled against your bedsheets meanwhile the other one had a hold on Leon’s hair, involuntary pulling and tugging with each movement of his mouth. Your noises just egged Leon on, each moan or gasp that left your mouth was responded to by a grunt of his own.

“Fuck,” he pulled back for a second to catch his breath, littering gentle kisses against your inner thigh, coating the area with the mixture of his own drool and your fluids that were on his chin.

“Wanna do this every fuckin’ day.” A kiss. “Come home, get on my knees, and taste you.” Another one. “Make you come over my face again and again.” His tongue lapped across your skin. “Suffocate between your thighs.”

“Leon!” You were desperate, hips bucking up into nothing and meeting the air of the room.

His eyes flicked to yours, letting out a soft growl when he saw the dazed out expression on your face. His favorite one—looking like a damn deer in the headlights with the way your eyes were pleading for him, lips parted and ready to beg if need be. He wanted to hear you say it. “What is it, sweetheart? What do you need?”

“You,” you replied breathlessly, tugging his head further up so he could get the damn message and continue. Leon was licking his lips already, mouth salivating at just how much your arousal was showing.

“You have me,” he was being a tease, massaging your inner thigh with one of his hands, kneading the flesh and blowing out some air directly at the area between your thighs. The way you squirmed around made him want to palm himself right on the spot. But he held back, you were his first priority.

“Want you inside,” you could barely even utter those three words out, the words blending together and sounding slurred.

A smirk found its way onto Leon’s lips, “yeah? right here?” He teasingly rubbed your already throbbing hole with his fingers, letting out a contented sigh at the way your legs jolted in response.

“Yeah, but…your cock, not just your fingers.” You whined out in complaint, knowing that it would take a while to get to the main prize.

“Shh, I know. That’s all you think about, my cock huh? You’ll get it, don’t worry, jus’ gotta prep you for it.” He slid a finger in until his knuckle disappeared, his fingers were so fucking thick that even one stretched you out. He raised his body further up, trailing kisses from the bottom of your stomach all the way to the middle of your chest.

“So reactive,” he murmured out, noticing the heave of your chest and how your stomach would tighten up with each thrust of his finger. His free hand grazed over the left side of your chest, pinching and twisting your hardened nipple.

“You’re driving me crazy,” your voice was strained, nails scratching Leon’s scalp but he welcomed the sting of it.

“Mission accomplished, then.” His voice was a rumble against your chest, tongue darting out to flick against your other nipple before sucking it gently, wet noises produced in the process. He had no shame, stimulating practically every single one of your senses and looking hot as hell doing it.

His tongue circled around your nipple for another few moments before he began trailing kisses up your collarbones and to your neck, the hiccup of your breath made him growl, burying himself into the scent of your soap and shampoo.

He slid another finger into you while igniting your body into flames, letting out a string of profanity under his breath when you took it with ease. “Fuck, you’re ready for me.” Not a question, but an observation, and suddenly Leon became very aware of the way his cock was begging to be freed from the confines of his pants.

He sat back on his knees and let out a breathless laugh at the way you whined from the loss of contact, he took his belt off in a hurry and unzipped his pants. Pavlog’s dog experiment. The sound of Leon’s fly coming undone made your mouth salivate in response because you knew what was coming.

Your eyes were fixated on him, watching the way he tugged his pants and boxers down—breath hitching at the way his cock slapped up against his stomach, already leaking and ready to stuff you full.

He placed one of his hands against the bone of your hip, his other one stroking his cock a bit as he inched towards you. “You ready, sweetheart?”

“Yeah, fuck, just put it in already.” Your impatience earned a huff of amusement from Leon, who tapped the tip of his cock against your hole a couple times before guiding it in. His head tilted back, mouth parting and letting out a groan when he filled you up completely—your head thrashed against the pillow, feeling him reconstruct the shape of your insides.

His cock was buried snugly in you, heavy balls pressed against the bottom of your ass, ready to shoot his load within a moment's notice. Leon was breathing inconsistently against you, kissing the corner of your mouth before making his way towards the shell of your ear. “Signal?”

“Green,” that whiny response from you was all it took for Leon’s hips to begin moving.

“God, you’re sucking me right in already.” His hip thrusts were slow but deep, each jolt making the headboard thump against the wall. “Give me your hand please,” The shakiness in his voice was cute, no matter how many times the two of you did this, he always asked for the same thing.

So you did just that, hand reaching for one of his—he immediately laced his fingers with yours, thumb rubbing over yours.

You moved your other arm under and over his shoulder to paw at his back, he hissed when your nails dug into his back scratched him up, undoubtedly leaving red marks on his pale skin—it would hurt like a bitch later but all it did was turn him on right now. “That’s it. Mark me up, baby. I’m yours, all yours.”

He looked down at the way his hips were rutting against yours, speeding the pace up a bit as his eyes flicked back into yours. He felt some pride that he was the one who had you falling apart, the one that made that dumb and needy expression form on your face.

“Feels so good,” you slurred out, your senses turning fuzzy, he was filling you up so good, reaching so deep that it had you seeing stars and clenching down on him. You wrapped your legs around his torso, needing to cling onto him.

“Baby—” he gasped out as soon as he felt the way you tightened up, squeezing your hand in response. “Ease up for me, not gonna last long if you keep squeezing me like that.”

“I know, I know…” you babbled out, but you couldn’t relax your body completely with the way your own hips snapped up to meet his.

Leon knew he was going to come soon, how could anyone hold back? You were making him addicted to you.

“Can I come inside you?” He somehow managed to grit that out, breathing rate growing in intensity.

You nodded almost immediately, wanting to feel him paint your insides white and feel the warmth of his cum, rambling almost incoherently. “Mhm, want you to fill me up. Please, please, please. I need it.”

“Shit, I will, don’t worry. Just gotta make sure you come first.” He was always so insistent on your pleasure, pressing his lips against yours and swallowing all of the pretty noises you made. Tongues swirling sloppily against each other, he loved the way you were barely even able to kiss him back properly. God, the tiny and quiet whimpers you let out were making his cock twitch inside you. You were trembling, too overwhelmed by the feeling of the coil in your stomach, but it’s okay, because you let Leon guide the kiss, drool spilling from the corner of your mouth.

Leon was losing it, holding back on spilling inside you, he needed to make sure you came before he did—but it was so hard with the way your ankles were crossed against his back and keeping him in place.

“Leon,” you sobbed his name out through an exhale, digging your heels into the arch of his back. “Too much, ‘s too much—” He could read your body well, the way you were holding onto his body so tightly he felt stuck, the way your voice turned up a pitch higher than usual.

“That’s it,” he lifted his hand to cradle the back of your head and hold you close, pressing kisses against the side of your head. “Come for me, sweetheart. Come all over my cock, you can do it. Let me feel you.”

You buried your head against his shoulder, breath fanning against his skin and incomprehensible mumbles of his name tipping out of your mouth, like if Leon was your God and you were chanting him a prayer.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, vision going white with a final call of his name, clenching around him and hissing when you felt his load spill inside you in ropes, his hips thrusting some more times in you before he stilled inside you.

He held you close as you shook against him, keeping you stable like he always did.

Silence, aside from the sounds of yours and Leons panting and the sound of the bedsheets twisting as you adjusted your position a bit, planting your feet back against the mattress and gasping softly when you felt him slowly pull out of you. Running a hand through Leon’s now damp hair, you let out a breathless chuckle. “You’re insatiable.”

“Not denying that,” managing to catch his breath, Leon propped himself up by pressing his palm against the pillow, pressing a gentle and loving kiss against your lips, his own curling up into a smile. “Stay right here. I’ll get you some water and clean you up.”

“No way in hell, mister,” you mumbled out, wanting to cuddle up with him before getting to that. You could handle being dehydrated for five more minutes in favor of being in his arms and some pillow talk. “Don’t get up yet, five more minutes.”

“Anything for my favorite chef.”

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x gn!reader #leon kennedy fluff #resident evil smut #resident evil x reader

2K notes · View notes

lancermylove · 5 months ago

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Random HCs

Fandom: Obey Me

Pairing: No pairing. Featuring DB and Royals.

Warning: None

Prompt: Random HCs for chuckles and giggles.

A/N: For all those who are exhausted, having a bad day, and struggling, I hope this makes you laugh.

———————————————

Mammon

Mammon once tried to make a pyramid scheme business involving selling rare pebbles he found in the backyard.

He secretly practices his cool guy poses in front of the mirror every morning.

Mammon has a collection of sunglasses, each pair named after a famous celebrity from the human realm.

He’s convinced that adding “The Great” before his name on all his social media profiles will make him go viral. Asmo has told him many times it won't work, but Mammon is determined.

The brothers catch Mammon often talking to inanimate objects, like convincing his wallet to magically refill itself. Asmo even has a few videos of these conversations on his phone. If you want to see it, Asmo is taking a payment of cheek kisses for each video.

Mammon once got stuck in a vending machine while trying to get a snack that got jammed. It turned out the vending machine was a mimic. His brothers still tease him about it.

Mammon thinks he’s a master chef because he can make instant noodles without burning them.

The second brother invented a new dance move called "The Mammon Shuffle," but it looks suspiciously like him tripping over his own feet.

Barbatos

He has a hidden talent for stand-up comedy but only practices in front of his mirror when he’s sure no one’s watching.

Barbatos has a secret collection of novelty aprons with quirky phrases, which he wears while cooking when no one is around.

Barbatos keeps a detailed journal of all the times he’s had to clean up after Diavolo’s “enthusiastic” projects, complete with the commentaries from the peanut gallery.

He also keeps a list of all the times he had to intervene in the brothers’ schemes. That too by rank of how ridiculous they were.

The butler has a secret talent for juggling, which he practices with kitchen utensils while he waits for dishes to finish cooking.

Barbatos has a habit of organizing the pantry alphabetically, and he gets annoyed when someone messes it up.

He once tried to teach a cooking class to the brothers, but it turned into a comedy show with flying ingredients and accidental fires. Then, Solomon showed up the next day asking for cooking lessons, and Barbatos disappeared into thin air. Now, Solomon is permanently banned from entering the royal kitchen.

For the rest, visit my website: Random HCs

———————————————

➣ Please visit my website for the full masterlist!

#obey me #obey me nightbringer #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me levi #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmo #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me beel #obey me belphie #obey me belphegor #obey me diavolo #obey me barbatos

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writingstoraes · 2 years ago

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three words, eight letters 💌

pairing: charles leclerc/fem!reader

type: written imagine

word count: 4.01k (got carried away)

notes: ok ik there are several of this prompt here but i wanted to give it a whirl :]] also in a slump with my ig imagines so i figured i should finish this since its been a draft for such a looong time lolol no warnings, this is just very fluff-coded!

about: the three times charles almost said "i love you," and the one time he finally did.

Charles wanted to tell you the three aching words he's stored in containment. All he wanted was the right time and the perfect moment, but for the love of his and his alone, he just cannot find it.

He had been racking his brain on how to tell you - because when he looks at you, it's like those three words are just going to explode out of his chest. Every time you smile, laugh, or even breathe in his direction, he realizes just how smitten he was for you. He thought about just saying it out of the blue, unplanned but also when the time felt right. But he also thought about going about it as if it were a proposal because you deserve nothing less than the best he can give.

There were times he thought it was too early to say.

You had just been dating a few months in, and though he felt strongly for you and he did love you, he didn't want to say it too fast or too early out of the fear that it might drive you away.

It's no secret Charles was no chef. He gets a good laugh when other drivers tease him about it but he doesn't pay it any mind. Some people are just good at other things, like how he sucks at cooking but can drive a car that goes as fast as lightning. It is also no secret that he wanted to impress you with skills other than driving - so he doesn't know what entered his mind when he realizes he's on his way to the supermarket as he decides to try and cook dinner.

He scoured the internet for an easy recipe, finally smiling to himself when he finds a simple pasta dish he thinks he can do. To an average person, the dish was really easy to make. So simple that an unsupervised child could follow it. Directions were clear and the website had pictures - he just needs to make a simple sauce, cook some pasta, and grate some cheese. He tells himself nothing could go wrong, what he was about to cook was absolutely just elementary. But he's not an average person, he was Charles, and he is a terrible cook through and through.

Having convinced himself he could cook something so simple, he had forgotten how he messed everything up. He's pretty sure he blacked out, because when he came to his senses, the pasta was overcooked, and the sauce mysteriously evaporated into the air so the pan was just red drops with charred pieces of cheese on the side. He tried to taste it, and he deems it inedible. He was so occupied with cooking it had slipped out of his mind that you were coming over, so the next thing he hears is the sound of your soft knock on his door.

The kitchen was an absolute mess and the apron he wore was extremely dirty — he almost thought about pretending he wasn't home and not answering the door. Of course, he doesn't do that, so he lets you in and the first thing you smell, is cheese.

"Were you cooking?" was the first thing you ask him.

He didn't answer, instead, he planted a chaste kiss on your lips and hurriedly walked back to the kitchen.

He had expected you to laugh once you saw the mess he made by trying to cook just to impress you, but surprisingly, no chuckle erupted out of you.

"Sorry," he says softly, taking off his apron and quickly cleaning up the pots and the bowls he used up.

"I wanted to cook you dinner. I found this recipe online and I thought it was easy," he sighs. "Cooking absolutely hates me. You're okay with getting takeout for now?"

He really did expect you to laugh.

But the second sentence that came out of your mouth: "I'll help you clean up."

It didn't take a lot of time to clean everything up. Thanks to Charles' inability to measure things, he had a ton of extra ingredients, and since he seemed to really like the dish he aspired to cook, you decide to make it for him.

Charles sat at the counter watching you calmly cook the recipe he'd intended to accomplish, your hair parted to the side while you wear the ridiculously messy apron he had worn earlier. He watches you cook the pasta and the sauce at the same time, able to keep your eye on both without neglecting the other. To your defense — the recipe really was easy. But Charles didn't seem to think so, which was why he was sitting on the counter with heart-shaped eyes.

"See, this is what it should look like when the pasta is done cooking," you hold up a piece, cutting it in the middle to show Charles it has cooked through.

"It helps if you check it from time to time if you're not sure. For the sauce, I think you just had your heat on a little too high, but that's okay — you can do it right next time." you smile softly at him, eyes squinting before you shift your attention back to the pan.

Charles had tried cooking before. But up to this day, you were the only one patient enough to actually teach him how. And it didn't help that you looked so beautiful while doing so; hair parted to the side, apron hanging a bit loose on your body, and a smile so captivating it blinds him a little. You weren't perfect, you did laugh at him eventually, but not before guiding him through the recipe he'd chosen. And quite surprisingly, he could cook this same exact dish properly for Arthur next week.

It was clear Charles was no help in the kitchen, so he resorts to hugging you from behind, head resting on your shoulder, breathing slow and steady. He gets a whiff of your shampoo and your perfume he absolutely loved. Your hands soon make their way on top of his that rested on your stomach, thumb rubbing circles on his. Charles was pretty sure you could feel him smile widely behind you, a thought he chooses to ignore because he didn't care anyway, he was at his happiest.

"I lo—" he starts, catching himself off-guard. For a moment, time stops; and he's not sure what to say next. He thought it was too early, but he wanted to say it.

"I love pasta, you know that?" Charles continues, trying to save whatever he's left with. Thankfully, you didn't notice his desperate attempt to cover his supposed mistake.

He tells himself: maybe next time.

Charles' mother had been pestering him for a long time about meeting you. Every time he came home, he was greeted with, "When am I going to meet your girlfriend?"

Even his brothers, Lorenzo and Arthur, were all so ecstatic about meeting you properly for the first time. The two see you around the track for brief periods of time, but in their defense, you haven't introduced yourself properly to Charles' family. It didn't help that Charles himself talked about you like you hung the moon and stars, and made the universe using your own bare hands, because his whole family, mother and brothers aside, all wanted to meet you.

The two of you were finally headed to Charles' childhood home, finally about to meet his entire family. And the word entire was an understatement because everybody was there. From aunts, cousins, and his nieces and nephews, all of them were anticipating your arrival. A lump forms in your throat just by the thought, but you try to battle it with a deep breath as you fixate your eyes on the mirror.

"Do you think they're going to look at this dress and think it's too revealing? Or too short?" you shout from the closet, straightening out the creases of the crisp white dress you were wearing.

Charles enters the room and he swears he could have just died right then and there. How you manage to take his breath away with minimal effort remained a mystery to him.

"I think..." he drags the second word. "I think they are going to be completely in love with you."

"Hopefully not in the same way I am, because I don't plan on sharing you." he softly chuckles, giving you a reassuring smile.

Technically he had said the l word already but to him, it didn't count, only because he didn't say it to you directly.

An hour into meeting you, the entirety of Charles' family adored you wholeheartedly. He didn't want to give credit to himself but he knew they would find no reason to not love you, though he reminds himself to tell you he told you so when you get some time alone together later. He could listen to his family members praise you all day. You had managed to meet each and every one of his side of the family present at the dinner and Charles could not help but admire how carefree you were at interacting with people he held close to his heart. His mom could not stop raving about how great you were and kept asking why he did not introduce you earlier that it makes her slightly mad, which was followed by a hearty laugh and an assurance that she loved you to bits.

You just managed to dazzle and charm every person you talked to. His brothers adored you and you managed to get along so well with them even if your most apparent common denominator with them was racing. His aunts could not stop telling Charles how beautiful you were and how you seemed to be so kind and fit so well with him. They were already asking Charles when's the next time you visit and you haven't even left his home yet. For some odd reason, you got along well with his uncles, too.

But the cherry on top, the last straw, and the tipping point that tugged the heaviest on the strings of Charles' heart were seeing you with his nieces and nephews. He was fond of children, gleeful every time he sees one on the paddock, especially when they are clad in colors of red and yellow, his team's staple color scheme. However, he never knew how disastrous it would be for him to see you with children.

There you sat on the patio, his niece behind you as she messily tried to braid your hair. You had a big smile on your face, laughing at the somewhat theatrical act his other nephew was performing in front of you. In your hands was a glass cup with gelato and a small spoon, raising the spoon occasionally to feed the little girl tying your hair. His lips slowly form a smile and he feels his chest was bound to explode any time soon. He stood there and realized that he was completely, utterly, and irrevocably in love with all that you are. In other words, he was down bad, and he wouldn't even dare deny it.

After the festivities of getting to know each member of his family, you and Charles were finally given time alone in the kitchen. Everyone else was occupied setting the table and fixing everything up for dinner. You were part of it though, he just found you getting the pies in the oven after you volunteered to do so.

"I told you so," he says, slightly taking you by surprise, not enough you drop the pies though.

You turn to him with a sheepish smile, "Told me what?"

"That they would love you," he replies.

"Well, I am very loveable. Can't blame them."

"I know you are. That's why I lov-" he transitions into telling you what might be one of the most important things he's ever going to say in his life.

"Charles, dinner's ready!" Arthur calls out, cutting his train of thought. The two of you shift your gaze to the dining area, seeing Arthur and Lorenzo waiting for the two of you.

That's why I love you. That was what he wanted to say.

Charles sighs, telling himself that maybe getting cut off was a sign that this was not the right time. He'd repeat himself, but he thinks there are other times when he could tell you he loved you without interruptions.

"What were you saying?" you ask, not wanting to hang him out to dry.

"Oh. I said I know you're loveable. That's why I love seeing you charm every single member of my family."

Charles was not having the best day. His own team had botched his home race for him once again and on top of that, he had gotten a 3-place grid penalty in Monaco. Don't get him wrong, he was ecstatic to be home. The warm welcome of the fans was unbeatable. Banners, posters, and the Monaco flag waved around the streets of Monte Carlo.

This season has not been good to him so far. So just once, he wishes to catch a break.

The two of you were walking around the paddock as Charles was headed to the Ferrari motorhome to prepare for the race. His hand was on your waist as he guided you in the sea of people. The track was entirely at capacity - engineers, celebrities, VIPs, reporters, you name it. A few meters from the garage, a reporter from a well-known sports channel calls his attention.

It was routine, and Charles was used to it. You were standing not too close beside the cameraman, just watching Charles answer the questions he was asked. The reporter's inquiries were the usual, he had asked how Charles felt about the penalty, how he thinks the car will perform, what upgrades Ferrari is planning on implementing, and all the likes. You watch intently, giving Charles a small smile every time his gaze went your way.

Though the reporter fixated on Charles' "disappointing home race", his words, Charles knew how to handle the questions and answered them composed and professionally. After all, he has been doing this for quite some time. Deep down, it stirred you slightly as it seemed like the reporter was only recognizing the lapses on Charles' side and insinuating that it was entirely his fault.

You tried to pay it no mind until he makes a passing careless and offensive commentary that you could not just let pass.

"I guess some fans were right - monegasques today have nothing to look forward to. Wonder how they feel when their only driver is not only in a horrible car but is tussling with being nothing special."

Nothing special.

Nothing to look forward to.

Something in your ears rang and your vision went dark. You could see Charles' face drop from where you were standing and your heart absolutely broke for him. He proceeds to nod his head toward the cameraman and made haste and you did not hesitate to follow him right away. If you felt distraught and angered after that comment, you wonder just how he felt after hearing it, and at his home race, nonetheless.

"Charles, wait," you jog slightly, seeing as his pace was a lot faster than you. You could tell he just wanted to get out of there. You reach for his hand, tightly grasping it and he stops walking.

"I'm sorry you had to hear that," he says lowly, upset written on his face.

"Why are you sorry? It's his fault. He was offensive and careless. He humiliated you and worse, what he was saying was not true."

"C'est bon." It's okay. You two were finally at the garage, a little far from the reporter. Deep down, though Charles wanted to at least defend himself, he feels all the energy he has left had been sucked out of his body.

"No, it's not. He doesn't know what he's saying. I don't want to let him get away with that, he can't just go around telling people things like that. You may be too nice to tell him off but I'm not."

"You don't deserve this," you say with conviction, walking away from the garage and prepared to give the reporter a piece of your mind.

You don't plan to cause a scene, you knew better than that. You weren't going to shout or curse, but you wanted to get your point across. Soon after Charles follows you, clearly trying to stop you but was too late when he saw you already talking to the reporter. He had no choice but to walk closer to you, grasping on what you were saying.

Your voice wasn’t loud. From where he was standing, he could see how calm and composed you were while you gave the reporter the lecture he was probably not expecting. The track was fairly busy and noisy. You could hear engines starting, and conversations of people he doesn’t know, which caused his inability to understand and hear what you were saying.

He just stood there - watching you defend him from the asshole of an interviewer, your hands making small gestures for emphasis. The reporter’s face slowly displayed guilt and resentment as if he was clearly affected by whatever it is you said. Soon, the noise around him subsided and the only thing he was able to hear was the last thing you told the reporter.

“I don’t ever want to hear you talk like that about Charles ever again. If you’re only going to disrespect one of the most hard-working people I know, better to not approach him in the slightest. He did not pour blood, sweat, and tears into this sport just for you to utter those words to him.”

Your voice remained soft but it was steady. You turned your heel against the reporter and a cameraman who was clearly surprised by what he just witnessed. You walk back to him, giving him a small smile.

He wanted to just stand there and stare at you. No one has ever done that for him before. He had his fair share of disrespectful interviewers and questions that downright offended every fiber of his being but he always chose to not pay it any mind. It did not help that you were the kindest person he knew — so seeing you decide right away to defend him like that just made him feel all sorts of things.

The two of you proceed to walk back to the Ferrari garage, your hand tightly grasped by Charles. At the time, he desperately wanted to embrace you and whisper just how much he loved you. He wanted to drag you to a discreet corner and just hold your face while he tells you the three words he’d been keeping to himself.

But he remained frozen in awe of you, and so he fails to tell you once again.

“Can I-” Charles starts, trying his best to get up from the couch.

“I already told you. The answer is no,” you reply firmly, shifting your gaze to the man with the slightly swollen cheek.

He huffs a little bit loudly, wanting to show his disappointment.

“Baby, the doctor said no strenuous activities. You just had your wisdom tooth extracted, so no, you can’t go skiing with Joris.” you say as you walk toward the couch, fluffing the pillow his head rested on and putting a soft blanket on top of him.

“Please just rest. You lie down right where you are and I will be preparing dinner soon. I just have to finish something first.”

“My favorite?” he asks, putting on the sweet tone you were always soft for.

“Anything for you, my patient.” you smile, planting a kiss on his forehead.

“Okay. I’ll rest,” he sighs, adjusting himself on the couch to face sideways. “You take care of me so well.”

Charles was under a lot of painkillers. His dentist appointment had been rescheduled hundreds of times as he claims to be too “busy” to get his wisdom tooth extracted. If it weren’t for your incessant nagging because he was already in pain, he probably wouldn’t have pushed through with it. He tried his best to look tough in front of you, but as someone who drove cars that are as fast as lightning, you could tell he was nervous.

The doctor had to reassure him that there would be anesthesia plus painkillers to combat the pain he would be feeling after. After finding out he was medically allowed to eat a ton of ice cream after the procedure, he was more than happy to oblige.

However, the combination of Charles, anesthesia that’s wearing off, plus painkillers is not equal to a drowsy Charles. He had more energy than usual and was naughtier than normal. In other words, he was hyper. He was not muttering nonsense like the famous wisdom tooth aftermath videos on YouTube nor did he want to sleep all day. He wanted to do so many things he was about to get overstimulated. So no matter how weak in the knees Charles usually made you nor how you always give in when he asks you for something, skiing and going to the gym for a heavy workout after he just had his tooth extracted were just things you cannot say yes to.

Not long after, the ever so fueled with energy of a boyfriend you had was deep in slumber on the couch. He probably tired himself out from listing a thousand reasons why you have to let him go with Joris and his friends today. He was ceaseless, after all. His lower body was covered with the blanket that you put on him earlier, chest slowly heaving up and down, mouth slightly apart, and lightly snoring.

He looked so peaceful. For a while, you just sat beside him and went on to study the features of his face. The pointed nose, the tiny freckles that are most evident when the sun hits them, and the eyes that seem to contain galaxies and universes in it.

“I know you’re staring, chérie,” he quietly says, eyes still closed.

“No. I’m just checking to see if your face is still swollen.” you reply, playfully rolling your eyes at him.

“Not swollen. Just say you’re looking for an excuse to study my beautiful face.” he teases, shifting himself so he’s now in a seated position.

“That’s the anesthesia talking, Charlie,”

“Wore off already.”

“Fine, I was staring. You’re so pretty, how could I not?” you say, shrugging your shoulders before standing up to prepare dinner.

“I love you.” Charles says before you could even move away far from the couch where he was seated.

I love you.

You stop in your tracks, your back still facing the Monegasque who was clearly waiting for a response yet slightly relieved he told you what he had been wanting to say for a while now.

“I already know what’s going through your mind,” he says, lightly laughing. “This is not the painkillers nor the anesthesia talking. I’d spent so much time debating on when to tell you.”

“So many accidental “I love you’s” thrown away. Figured there’s never a right time. I love you every single day so why wait for a perfect moment?”

“I love you. So so much.” he repeats.

You turn to him with a smile you can’t contain, walking over to him and engulfing him in what seemed to be the tightest hug you’d ever given anybody.

“I hope you know I’m still saying no to the skiing.” you laugh.

Charles chuckles, and you could feel the vibrations of his laughter from his chest. His grip on you only tightens, sighing in relief.

“That’s okay. I’d rather be with you anyway.” he says, squeezing you once more before breaking away from your embrace.

“Hmm, swaying me with pretty words, Leclerc?” you raise a brow.

“Never!” Charles smiles sheepishly as he puts both his hands up in defense.

“For what it’s worth — though you’re like a child hopped up on sugar earlier, I love you too.”

-------------

tagging: @slytherheign <3

notes: i think this is my first time writing something this long! i also have a 3.5k word work in progress but i cant find the will to finish it lol very angsty though!

thank u sm for reading and lmk what u think hehe <3 also pls send requests for ig imagines for charles! will try to do it as soon as i can!

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owomon · 1 year ago

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as a kid i enjoyed the Precious Moments toys but I completely forgot that they are an openly religious company and I googled it and found the website and saw this and i was fucking blindsided

there's two of these figures, and white jesus aside, the juxtaposition of a realistic (rather stoned looking) jc next to the anime eyed characters is .... *chefs kiss*

#t #just fuckin around #tw jesus #lmfao

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perfectly-m1saligned · 3 months ago

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K!nktober day 5

Following @dreamlandcreations prompt list. Day five: blindfold; forced orgasm. You can find all my stories on my wattpad as well. Toodles!

(NSFW: MDNI!! Reader's discretion is advised)

Simon Riley x reader

(Boyfriend!Simon)

cw: oral (m receiving), sensorial deprivation, unprotected piv, forced breeding

word count: 1680

a/n: a little rushed because I have to go to a big party and can't post from there lol

He had been thinking about the perfect anniversary gift for you for the last three months. Clothes? Basic. Lingerie? Sexy but he would've looked like a creep. Plushies? Your room was already drowning in them. Books? Same things. He spent his lunch breaks checking website after website, yet he couldn't find the perfect gift. He knew he probably shouldn't be rocking his brains over this, but five years was an important milestone, so he thought it deserved a proper symbolic celebration.

A promise ring? Simon imagined a future with you, he was sure he had found his wife from the moment he'd met you, but to ask for your hand in marriage now seemed a bit too rushed. You both still had a lot of things to figure out on your own. A promise ring sounded perfect, a reminder that he would stay by your side and support you as long as you had him, but not something as final as an engagement ring. A simple white gold band, with small sapphires running along the whole circumference, since it was your favourite stone.

You had decided for an intimate dinner at your place, feeling like playing chef for the night, you had spent the whole day perfecting the right sauce to put on the steak, almost burned down your apartment complex when you forgot the truffled carrots in the oven, but the second batch luckily survived. Garlic bread in a cheesy dip for starters, handmade pasta with a plain buttery sauce, then the stake and carrots. You had even handmade the menus, using your fanciest handwriting and tracing every letter with care. Everything was ready, the bread lying in a pretty basket in the middle of the table, a bottle of expensive red wine right next to it. You hadn't exactly bought a gift for the occasion, because what you had in mind for Simon was far more...original.

"Baby!" You threw your arms around his neck when you opened the front door, Simon standing there with his best dress shirt and slacks, a black tie cutting down his broad chest. He carried a small gift bag and a bouquet of wildflowers (you weren't much of a roses girl). "Hey, pretty girl," he chuckled, his voice smooth and warm as he encircled your waist with one strong arm, placing a chaste kiss against your temple. "So you really weren't kidding when you said you would've been the chef tonight, hm? Smells bloody amazing in here."

The two of you had a lovely dinner, talking about your day, the small living room of your flat filled with laughter and the clinking of your glasses as you chatted and drank away. Despite all the food you had cooked, by the time you finished the last course, a pleasant buzz made your head feel lighter. You lounged on the couch, nursing your wine glass between your slim fingers as you watched Simon wash the dishes, sleeves rolled-up, exposing his thick forearms. The sight made you bite down on your bottom lip, anticipation making your body tingle.

Once all the dishes were on the drying rack, Simon made his way back to you on the couch, folding a leg under himself before he sat down. He leaned with his shoulder against the backrest, facing you. "Would you like to see your gift now, love?" He asked, his voice a gentle purr as he reached for the bag on the coffee table. "Now, now," you stopped him, reaching out with your hand, gently guiding his hand, still mid-air, back on his lap. "I appreciate the thought, but I would really like to give you mine first." Simon raised a bushy brow, a puzzled expression etched over his features as he relaxed into the cushions. He fixed his stance, now sitting normally, eyes fixed on you as you got up. "I'll have to take this, thank you." You chirped, bending over to undo the knot of his tie, making it slide off his neck.

You grinned, a mischievous glint in your gaze as you carefully tied back the tie, this time, around his head, covering his eyes. Simon opened his mouth to speak, but you silenced any of his questions with a quick peck on the lips. "It's a big surprise, babe. Can't risk having you ruin it." You swiftly took a few steps back, suppressing a snort when you saw Simon press his lips together, aimlessly moving his head from one side to the other as he awkwardly patted his thighs. You slowly started to peel your dress off, sliding the straps of your dress down your arms, followed by the skimpy little lace thong.

Standing naked, you gingerly made your way back to the couch. "y/n?" Simon called out, sensing your presence as he caught a whiff of your sweet perfume. "Can...can I take this off now?" You shook your head, then, remembering he was blindfolded, you spoke up. "Sorry, not yet." You denied with a sweet voice, leaning forward to place your hands on his thighs, smiling when he involuntarily winced. "Realx, Simon." You commanded, gently coaxing his legs apart. Your knees found the rough wooden floorboards, nimble fingers working the buckle of his belt, consequently pushing down the zipper. Simon cooperated, lifting his hips a bit when you hooked your fingers into the waistband of his slacks, sliding them down with his boxer briefs.

The simple thought of what you were about to do to him had him standing erect, his heavy cock springing free, hitting his abdomen. His tip was oozing with precum, making you lick your lips in anticipation. "So eager already?" You cooed, giggling when his cheeks grew a pretty shade of pink. "P-Please, y/n..." Simon hissed between gritted teeth. "Please what?" You prompted, looking up at his covered eyes, his mouth slightly agape as his breathing picked up. "Touch me...please." He could feel your hand, hovering a breath away from his length, teasing him with the heat radiating off your body. You chuckled, finally answering his pathetic pleas by circling his shaft with your lithe hand, feeling his dick twitch in your hold.

"F- Oh, fuck!" Simon groaned deeply when you wrapped your lips around his rosy tip, slowly lowering your head until he was halfway inside your mouth. A hand wrapped around the edge of the leather couch, the other fisting your soft hair in a makeshift ponytail. "So good...you're so good, baby. Think you can take all of me?" You hummed 'yes', the vibration running along his sensitive length and making him groan again. Coaxed by his gentle guidance, you relaxed your throat until his blonde pubes tickled the tip of your nose. "Fuck...that's right, good girl." He purred.

You slowly started to bob your head up and down, moaning around his fat cock to send delicious vibrations that turned him on even more, making him throb in your mouth. You had to use your hand as well to keep a proper pace, stroking him and alternating it with more circular motions. You looked up at him from your spot on the floor from time to time, enjoying the way his parted lips released ragged breaths and soft moans, the blindfold still resting over his eyes. "y/n...baby, don't stop." He suddenly hissed, his voice harsher, his hand on your head guiding you up and down faster, and you matched it with the strokes of your hand. Soon, Simon's hips stuttered, a low growl rumbling in his chest before your name followed in a string of prayers, hot ropes of cum being shot right down your throat, filling you with the familiar salty taste.

Your lips released him with a wet pop, and you swallowed his cum as you watched him catch his breath. Poor thing, you thought, you weren't done yet. His dick still stood straight and proud, the release you weren't able to clean off still coating his shaft. "Lovie, can I take this-" A strained groan left his lips, breath hitching as you suddenly climbed onto his lap, caging him with a thigh on either side of him. "No, no, y/n, what are you- shit..." Simon hissed, feeling your gummy walls envelop his cock, twitching with another impending load.

You finally freed him of the blindfold, his wide brown eyes meeting yours, looking speechless as you descended all the way, his sensitive tip kissing your cervix. Smirking, you tied his tie around your neck, letting it sit between your breasts, then started to slowly move your hips. "Baby...I'm gonna cum again if you keep it up, I-I..."

"Cum for me, Simon." You whispered, cradling his face in your hands before you placed a kiss on his lips. "Cum inside me, please. It's your gift." Simon's eyes lit up for a moment, but he still seemed sceptic. You deepened the kiss, silencing his doubts as you started to ride him faster, your ass slapping against his muscular thighs, making the loosened belt clank. "B-Baby..." he was begging, blunt nails digging into the fat on your hips, leaving red crescents. "I-I don't think I..."

"Yes you can, Simon," you purred into his ear. "Cum inside me." He took one of your tits into his hand, guiding it to his face before latching his lips onto your erect nub. You moaned, tipping your head back as heat quickly pooled in your belly. "Gonna...'m gonna..." The knot snapped, your walls clenching his cock so tight he couldn't help but release another heavy load deep inside you, both of you moaning out the other's name in your shared orgasm.

You rested your forehead on his shoulder, feeling his dick twitching slightly as he went soft inside of you, your cream mixing with his cum and leaking onto your inner thighs and his lap. Simon was completely spent, breath ragged as he leaned against the backrest of the couch. You peppered a few tender kisses over the side of his neck, a hand rubbing his chest as you both came back to your senses. "That was...well, definitely original. You surely caught me off guard, lovie." You chuckled, raising your eyes back on his flushed face, grinning.

"Can I open my present now?"

•This is an original work of fiction, please do not translate or share on this or any other platforms without credit•

#simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #cod x reader #ghost cod #cod mw2 #cod #call of duty smut #ghost x reader smut #kinktober #kinktober 2024 #18+ mdni #mdni #i need him #omg this man #halloween #perfectly-m1saligned

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whiskey-tango-matcha · 8 months ago

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Chatterbox (M, cold, 'drabble')

A little prompt-based fluff for you guys :) Reed and Greyson go out to dinner, but Reed realizes something is up when Greyson won't shut tf up lol. I'm loving writing this relationship, I can't lie, so sorry if it's too much Reed and Greyson lately - I'll get back to my other guys soon!

1.6K words (just a tiny lil blip of a story haha) CW: Male snz, coughing, fever, contagion mention. Hope you like it :)

Chatterbox

Reed looked down at his phone as he waited on Greyson, rereading the stream-of-consciousness texts his boyfriend had sent throughout the day.

Greyson

1:42PM

sooo pumped for tonight bb :)

1:56PM

should I wear a suit…? I know it’s a new spot but the website definitely reads ‘fine dining’, like fine-er than most of my clothes know how to be...

2:24PM

I think I’ll do dark jeans & a black button up. johnny cash style. cant go wrong w that. hahah.

3:17PM

I know ur working still but im just really excited to see you:):)

It was cute – borderline adorable – how nervous Greyson seemed for their dates, even after almost a year of the two of them being together. Reed had, of course, answered Greyson’s plethora texts throughout the day, but had tried to keep himself subdued so he wouldn’t give away his hand; tonight, he was going to ask Greyson to move in with him.

He knew it was a bit of a long time coming, but Reed was really trying to keep from scaring Greyson off by doing anything too quickly. His boyfriend certainly had a bit of past-relationship trauma that Reed tried valiantly to navigate; it was hard to figure out what the right time to do anything was. Sometimes, he wasn’t sure there was ever going to be a right time to push their relationship to the next level. But things had been good lately; like, really good. Tonight felt… right.

Greyson’s presence was palpable before Reed even saw him blow through the door. He looked up from his phone and clocked his boyfriend, standing out side the restaurant with his elbow locked over his face; Reed cocked his head a bit, confused. Was he… coughing?

The chef, clad in the Johnny-Cash-getup he’d promised, shook himself out before pushing the door to the restaurant open. He pawed at his nose with the back of his hand while asking the hostess to point Reed out – she gestured towards their table, and Greyson smiled when the two of them locked eyes. Reed waved, smiling back. Something was certainly… off.

“Sorry I’m late, baby,” Greyson said, kissing the top of Reed’s head before sitting across from him. “The fuckin’ train was running late again.”

“I’ve told you a million times I’ll come pick you up for dates,” Reed said, squeezing Greyson’s hand across the table. “You don’t always have to take the train.”

Greyson shrugged, smiled a little loopily. “I like the train,” he said, picking up his menu and squinting at the small font. “Lots of time to think. I’ve come up with my best dishes on the subway, I’m pretty sure; you remember that tart I made for the writer’s dinner, the one where we saw each other for the second time? Came up with that on the train. I was sitting next to this girl, probably a student, and she was eating one of those little egg tarts, the ones from the Japanese bakeries? I thought, damn I bet a root vegetable in one of those would fuckin’ slay – spoiler alert, it so did. Where would I have come up with that if not for the train? Plus, it’s one of the most sustainable ways to travel. I get my good karma for not actively killing the environment in. Win-win. What’re we eat – HTSHH! NXTSHH!” Greyson’s explosion of word vomit was very suddenly cut off to stifle two painful-sounding sneezes into the back of his hand.

Reed blinked for what was maybe the first time since his boyfriend sat down. “...bless,” he said after a beat. Greyson nodded, sniffled a little, and picked the menu back up.

“What’s this place’s thing anyway?” Greyson continued, flipping the menu over to look at drinks. “I can’t seem to figure it out; are they Italian? Mediterranean? Fine dining? Just high-end? No tasting menu, but prices are high enough to warrant one. Wine list reads very Italian, but there are like three dishes with hummus on them? I’m half-expecting to be served babaganoush bolognese. Which… maybe would work? Actually, eggplant, tomato sauce… I could see it working. You never know. Can’t judge a book by its menu, right? What’re you drinking? Want to get a bot -?”

This second monologue was cut short when Reed reached across the table to place a gentle hand on Greyson’s face. Just as he expected: hot.

“Babe,” Reed said gently, taking his hand back, “you’re burning up.”

The chef cast his glance down, embarrassed. “You weren’t supposed to figure that out till after dinner,” he muttered. Reed laughed.

“Seriously? You had to know I’d figure something was up. You’ve been monologing since the moment you sat down. Have you been sick all day? You should’ve told me, honey. How much cough medicine did you take before you showed up here?”

Greyson looked up at Reed and gave him a little half-smile. “Pretty sure I downed half a bottle of Robutusssin, not gonna liiii – hh! HhNXTSHH-ue! Huh-TSHH-ue!” Once again, Greyson attempted to stifle, to no avail. He allowed himself two painful little coughs before righting himself again.

“Bless you,” Reed said again. “I wish you would just sneeze normal, that always sounds so painful.”

“We’re in a restaurant,” Greyson said, a huskiness beginning to creep in to his voice. “That’s so gross.”

Reed rolled his eyes. “Oh, please. Who cares? No one’s looking at us. They’re too busy with their many, many hummuses.”

A laugh bubbled out of Greyson, and with it came a flurry of congested coughs he directed into the sleeve of his shirt. “Don’t mbake me laugh,” he muttered, taking a drink of water. “You’re gonna get us kicked out.”

“Good,” Reed said, flagging the waiter. “I’m so sorry,” he said when the young, well-dressed server came to their table, “something’s come up and we’re going to have to go.” He handed the kid a fifty. “Thank you for your help.”

The server nodded, said thank you to Reed, and went to grab the two men’s jackets. Greyson raised an eyebrow, confused. “What’re you doing?”

“Taking you home,” Reed said. “You need tea and soup, not…” he glanced back down at the menu, “fattoush flatbread.” Greyson visibly deflated.

“I wanted to spend the evening with you,” he said, his voice subdued. “I’m sorry. I should’ve called and canceled, I just… I mbiss you when we don’t see each other all week. You’re always busy, I’mb always busy, it just fucking sucks. I don’t even know how I got fucking sick… oh wait, yes I do. Elijah had a cold last week – was that last week? Did I tell you that? I can’t remember. I think the servers gave it to him. Fuckin’ servers, I’ve never met a group of people who get sick mbore than theehh – huh! Fuck – HUHETSHHH-ue! Huh-! HhITSZZZCH-ue!” Greyson folded in half, his torso practically beneath the table in an attempt to keep the entire restaurant from hearing him. It was, of course, at that moment that the server returned with their coats. Reed took them silently, and stood to gather his boyfriend, who slowly unfurled himself from his own lap.

“Bless you,” he said, gently helping Greyson to his feet and slipping his coat over his shoulders. He lead the two of them past the host stand and onto the sidewalk, where he turned Greyson to face him.

“First of all,” he said, sweeping Greyson’s hair out of his eyes and caressing his cheek, “I know a subset of people who get sick more than servers, and it’s chefs. You and all your chef buddies are pestilence incarnate because you work nine hundred hours a week.” This prompted a little laugh from Greyson. Perfect, thought Reed. Break the tension.

“Secondly, yes, you did tell me that Elijah was sick, and I told you, and I quote, ‘Don’t get too close, I know you two love to share a cold’, but I know you don’t like to listen to authority, so not sure what I expected.” Another laugh. Greyson pushed his hair back, rubbed his nose, and pulled Reed in to hug him. Reed continued from this spot, pressed into Greyson’s shoulder.

“And thirdly,” he said, “I miss you too. All the time. Which is why I asked you out tonight.” He pulled away, reached into his pocket, and dropped a key into Greyson’s palm. “I don’t want to miss you anymore. I don’t want you to have to take the train from Brooklyn every single night, I don’t want us to hang out once a week, I don’t want to drop you at your apartment to take care of yourself. I want to see you when I wake up every morning. I want to hear you sneak in at three AM after you and Matt go clubbing. I want to take care of you, at home, when you’re sick.” Reed smiled, a little embarrassed, as Greyson stared at the key. “Move in with me,” Reed said. “Please.”

Greyson’s mouth opened, then shut without words a couple of times before he looked Reed in the eyes. “Yes,” he said, nodding. “Okay. Yes. Yes, please.”

Reed felt a smile bloom on his face, huge, goofy, unashamed. He took Greyson’s face in his hands and planted a kiss on his lips. Greyson held his boyfriend by the waist, then picked him up to spin him around. “I love you,” Greyson muttered into Reed’s mouth.

“I love you more,” Reed said, smiling. Greyson turned away then, suddenly to -

“HRRSHH-ue! HhhITSHZZCH-ue!” he sneezed away from his boyfriend, which prompted a laugh from Reed.

“Probably too late for that nicety,” Reed joked, elbowing Greyson playfully. The chef huffed out a laugh and rolled his eyes.

“I figured sneezing directly into your face would probably kill the moment,” he said, sniffling. “But I’ll go ahead and just do it next time.”

“Oh, shut up,” Reed laughed, kissing Greyson again. “C’mon. Let’s get you home and in bed. Sickie.”

Greyson smiled a little. “Yeah,” he said, looping his arm into Reed’s. “Let’s go home.”

#whiskeyswriting #snz #sickfic #snzfic #snzblr #coldfic #male cold #male snz #idk idk they're just so cute i love a happy greyson #i mean i love an angry greyson too but it's fun to write something happy idk #im thinking my next big fic will be an elijah drama fest tho... i have IDEAS

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