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mochie85 · 18 hours ago

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Just For Tonight - 11:00PM

Just For Tonight Masterlist Complete Masterlist

Summary: Things start to speed up as you let Bucky, Sam, and Loki get a peek into your life. Pairing: Loki x Reader/OFC Word Count: 3.1k Warnings: Fluff, language, kissing, tattoos, needles.

“Me?” You stood in the middle of the road like a deer caught in the headlights. A blank expression on your face as you processed what Loki just said to you. “I don’t understand,” you muttered. “Why were you looking to compare someone to me?”

“You’re right. You don’t understand,” Loki chuckled. “I wanted to find someone like you. I couldn’t get you out of my mind. Even if it was just for tonight. But then I realized it wouldn’t matter because, in the end, they wouldn’t be you.”

“And…you want it to be me?” you asked as you exhaled in disbelief.

“Ayo! Are you guys gonna get off the street or what? I’m starving and something in there smells good!” Sam pointed toward Delia’s front door. Loki gave you a closed-lip smile as he passed you. Not once taking his eyes off you.

An explosion of warmth and energy exploded within you as your eyes met. Your mind thought of a million different questions- a million different objections- to what Loki just said. You were excited and giddy. A juxtaposition to what your body was currently doing. Which was stunned into disbelief in the middle of the road; frozen like a deer caught in the headlights. He wanted it to be me?! Wha- who-

His cold hands gripped yours, “Come on.” Loki smiled, trying to get you off the street. I must’ve inhaled too much nitrous back there. This has to be a dream. He pulled you along, smiling, as you both entered Delia’s, hand in hand.

The bell on the door jingled as you passed through. You relaxed as the familiar sound of the coil gun buzzing hit your ears. The smell of burgers and fresh-cut tomatoes wafted through your senses. You were home.

A curtain to one of the private tattoo booths slid open at the sound of the bell. Addie’s head popped out with her bright red curls in a messy bun atop her head. “Well, well. Look at what the cat dragged in!” Addie bellowed, opening the curtain further. She had been working on a customer. His entire right arm was sleeved with ink. Making it hard to distinguish what Addie was working on. “Or should I say car? I saw the videos circulating, girl. You whooped their asses!” Addie wiped the arm of her customer, revealing beautiful linework in geometric patterns.

“Oh my God, there’s a video? Shit, are we on it?!” Sam asked worriedly, fiddling with his phone.

“Hey, Addie!” You laughed, ignoring Sam’s questions and running over to give her the tightest hug.

“You come bearing trophies, I see.” She said sizing up the three men behind you. “What did you have to do to win them? And I assume it’s one for each of us, right?” She said winking to Sam.

“Cute. Addie,” rolling your eyes. “You can harass my friends later. I’ll introduce you when you give me my winning tally. Is Laney here?”

“Oh ya. She’s next door cooking up your favorite.”

“Thanks. I’m starving.” You kissed her on the cheek and told the others to follow you.

In the same building, separated by a curtain of beads, was a fifties-era diner. Complete with bright pink vinyl booths and bright neon clocks. If Addie’s tattoo parlor was an art gallery, then Laney’s diner was a museum. A collection of old Hollywood memorabilia and nostalgia from a time when men smoked cigars and women matched their lip color to their nails.

“Oh God, it smells amazing in here! Better than that nacho cheese, ey Laufeyson?” Barnes asked, hitting Loki’s torso. The four of you walked further into the restaurant. The few customers that were there were the quiet types who had night shift jobs or the drunk club-goers who needed a place to eat before they set off to their next destination.

“Order up!” a flowery voice from the kitchen yelled out onto the floor. Laney’s head popped out through the kitchen window, setting down plates of food with a mountain of fries each. “Hey! My sister from another mister! I was wondering if I’d see you tonight. I saw your victory.” Laney stepped out from behind the counter, wiping her hands on her apron and giving you a tight hug.

“I need to see this video!” Sam grunted walking toward an empty booth.

Laney looked like Rosie the Riveter with her hair up in a high ponytail kept in place by a handkerchief. “Go on. Have a seat. I made your favorite. Burgers all around?” She asked pointing to your friends.

“Yes, please. I’m starving!” Bucky said.

“Good. Cuz I’m not making you anything else.” She laughed making her way back into the kitchen.

The four of you sat in a booth in the corner. You noticed how quickly Sam and Bucky were to pair with each other, leaving you to sit with Loki. His arm settled on top of the booth behind you as you sat down.

“So, what is this place?” Bucky asked you looking around and smiling. You could see a small twinkle in his eyes. As if he was remembering something from a bygone era.

“Delia’s is home. It’s a juxtaposition of my two favorite women. My best friend, Delaney, and her eccentric mom Adelaide. Addie is my tattoo artist. The only one I would trust with my body. She was the mom I never had growing up. She worked odd jobs and moved around a lot till Laney, over there, decided to put her foot down and demand to stay in one place. That’s when they met me and my dad. Delaney and I became best friends.” That’s when you started laughing. “We even set a parent trap between my dad and Addie. But it never took. When my dad passed, Addie continued to watch over me. They opened up Delia’s as a compromise between the two of them.”

“Very unique if you ask me. You don’t see many tattoo parlors behind a diner.” Bucky noted.

“Ah hah! Found it!” Sam yelled pointing to his phone. Everyone gathered close to the tiny screen to watch snippets of your race on TikTok. “There you are starting. There's you turning on your nitrous. There's you winning. Aaand…there’s no me! HA! I ain’t gettin’ caught!” Sam joyously commentated.

“Congratulations, Sam” you laughed sarcastically.

“All right,” Laney said coming over to your table. You looked up and found that Loki had already been staring at you. His eyes lingered on yours for only a second before he smiled and looked up at Laney. “Four cheeseburgers. Four fries. And one stack of onion rings.” Laney placed the plates down in front of you all, earning an appreciative tummy growl from each of you. “You better eat fast! I can only hold my mother at bay for so long before she barges in here to start asking you questions.” She said looking at you decidedly. And then at your three companions with a suggestive smirk.

All four of you ate in delicious silence. An occasional moan of approval or praise would come out of Bucky or Sam’s mouth.

“So, Devin was in here earlier,” Addie said surprising you from the booth behind you.

“Mom!” Laney yelled from across the counter.

“What?!” Addie yelled back. “He watched a live feed of your race here. That’s how we found out you won.” You nodded your head, your mouth full, unable to respond back.

“Did he… say… anything?” you asked cautiously, picking up a fry. Your eyes darted quickly to Loki to see his reaction.

“Well, he came in with a crew. His arm was around another girl and I thought that was weird cuz you had a date with him tonight, right?”

“MOTHER!” Laney scolded from the kitchen.

“What?! She has a right to know that the guy she’s dating is a scumbag.”

“Yes, but not in front of the others!” Their argument faded into the background of your thoughts.

You had missed your chance with Devin. You knew he wouldn’t have waited for you. He incessantly kept asking you out and each time you said no. You told him that you were too busy with work. Being part of the team that got to work closely with the Avengers was your dream job and it meant that you kept odd working hours. So, when you finally decided to get over your crush on Loki and try dating, you didn’t hesitate to say yes when Devin asked you last time.

Not that you had any feelings for Devin. He was a distraction from what you really wanted.

“Was this the guy you had a date with tonight, Wheelz?” Sam asked, stuffing his mouth with the last morsel of his burger.

“Ya,” you answered swirling your fries in ketchup.

“You want us to pay him a visit?” Bucky asked in the most uncharacteristic mafia nod you’d ever see him do.

“We’re sorry, Wheelz,” Sam said.

“That’s ok. I wasn’t interested in him anyway.”

“Ya, he wasn’t who she really wanted.” Addie teased.

“So, you do want someone!?” Sam asked, his eyes growing big like saucers. Probably to catch all the tea he wanted you to spill. You missed it when he turned those eyes to look decidedly at Loki, a small grin forming on his face.

“Mom, isn’t it time you give Wheelz her tally? You know, right now! This very instant.” Laney said ushering Addie and you out of the booth.

“Thank you,” you whispered to Laney.

“Go!” She whispered back. “Or she’ll just come back here and harass your friends even more.” You nodded, wiping your hands on a napkin, and excused yourself from your friends. You hesitated and turned back.

“Go! I’ll take care of them!” Laney laughed.

“What tally?” Bucky asked Laney.

“Every time she wins, she gets a mark on her shoulder to mark her win. She doesn’t race often. Especially now that she has that goody-two-shoes-uppity job with y’all. But when she does, she likes to win. And she likes to remember that win,” Laney explained.

Curiosity spread through Loki’s mind like fire in dry weather. The more he knew about you the more questions he had. The more intrigued he felt. It wasn’t even a couple of hours ago that he found out about your tattoos and now he wants to know how many you have. What do they look like? And where are they placed on your delicate body?

Loki looked up and watched as you disappeared behind the beaded curtain. Before he realized what he was doing, he stood up and followed you across the diner back to the parlor.

Loki was about to part the beaded curtain when Addie quickly strode through and almost bumped into him. “I apologize,” Loki charmed as he stepped to the side.

“No worries, handsome.” Addie smiled as she patted his muscular arm. “I ran out of black and need to head into the back for supplies,” she added. “Do you think you can let our girl know while I get some?”

“Absolutely.” Loki smiled. Addie scurried away with a smirk on her face winking at Laney. Laney was watching the whole scene ready to step in if her mother got out of hand. She rolled her eyes and turned back around, giving her attention to Barnes and Wilson, enjoying her hard work.

Loki walked in quietly, wanting to tell you that Addie would be just a moment, but his steps faltered. He took a deep breath as he watched you straddle the chair and disrobe your shirt. You leaned forward with your arms crossed and relaxed waiting for Addie to get started on your tattoo.

Loki was mesmerized. The luster of your skin hailed him closer and closer. A smooth canvas with small works of art depicted on your spine. The different phases of the moon were embellished with dark ink lines and stars all intricately drawn down the length of your back. There was a small tally on your left shoulder and a script or font on your right that Loki couldn’t make out.

You heard footsteps walk back in. “Addie, I think this would mark my tenth win. I don’t know…”

“Addie isn’t here,” he swallowed. “She had to search for more ink in the back.” You turned your head at the sound of his voice, clutching your shirt tight. “I apologize. She sent me to inform you,” he smiled.

You were caught in a compromising position with your top half exposed. You didn’t know what to do but stare at his beautiful face drinking all of you in. The way he looked at you. The way his eyes glinted as they roamed your body. The way he swallowed his words before he spoke. You had never felt more beautiful…more seen…as you do now.

“I-I can leave. If it makes you uncomfortable,” Loki offered.

“No. You can stay,” you murmured back. You turned around, unable to look into his adoration any further. You heard his heavy footsteps come closer and around you.

“They’re beautiful.” He said standing behind you. Admiring you like you were a work of art. By now, goosebumps had formed all over your skin, making you shiver. Addie wouldn’t like that.

“Thank you.”

“May I?” he asked reaching his hand forward. You turned your head slightly to see what he meant. “Can I touch you?” he clarified. You nodded your head once. A pink blush climbs your neck up to your cheeks. Surely, he sees the way he’s affecting you.

His finger traces the name on your right shoulder. You felt his gentle touch with each letter. Each stroke. As if you were being branded. A signature you had Addie replicate in your dad’s handwriting. “My dear Carri. Love, Dad,” he read aloud. “Whose Carri, darling?”

“I’m Carri. It’s my name. Well, it was my dad’s nickname for me. My full name is Carrisa,” you smiled. “Nice to meet you.”

“The pleasure is mine, Carrisa.” He said coming closer to you, bending down, and gently kissing your name on your shoulder. You sat upright, shocked.

“I’m sorry. Did I startle you?”

“Ya. Um, it’s ok,” you said looking down, as your body prickled with heat. His lips left a sear on your shoulder that spread throughout your body, making your heart beat wilder and your breathing shallow. “Did you mean what you said earlier?”

“I fear that you have caught me in a daze, my dear Hnöss. What exactly did I say earlier?” His fingers traced the moon phases down your spine. You remembered when Addie drew those on your back. It was one of the most painful experiences you’ve ever had. But the electricity from his touch replaced the bittersweet memory with a new feeling.

“What you said about looking for someone like me- because you couldn’t stop thinking about me.” He circled you. His fingers lingered at your waist, trailed across your bunched skirt, and onto your right thigh. Facing you, he opened his hand to palm your thigh and stroked it with his thumb.

“Is that what I said?” he asked, transfixed by the Ouroboros on your thigh.

“Loki.” You tried to sound exasperated and annoyed. But you feared you sounded breathy and needy instead. His eyes looked at you through his long lashes. While his attention was still consumed by your tattoo.

“Why was I looking for someone like you?” He posed and inhaled, preparing for his explanation. “Perhaps the same reason why you picked Barnes to be your spotter instead of me. The same reason why you went on a date tonight with David-”

“Devin,” you corrected.

“I could care less what his name is, darling. Because you wanted to forget about your supposed unrequited crush.” He held his hands to his chest and moved closer to you. His height was even more impressive when you were sitting down and looking up at him. He leaned down to your flushed face and whispered, “The same reason why you agreed to go on this circus of a date, with the three of us. Just so you can spend more time with that unrequited crush. With me.” He smirked. Like a predator who had caught his prey, flashing his teeth through his grin.

An electrifying kiss followed. You took a quick intake of breath as his mouth caressed yours. His lips were cool and smooth. You closed your eyes and leaned further into the kiss. His hand squeezed tighter moving ever so carefully up your thigh.

“I finally got the ink! I hope you’re ready. And I’m not interrupting some romantic kissing session.” Addie’s voice sang through the beaded curtain. You both pulled away from each other in shock.

Loki smiled as he backed away to give Addie space in between you. “Look at you. Why do you have goosebumps? Good thing I’m doing your shoulder.” She set the ink down and turned on the gun. The familiar buzzing helped calm your nerves and you let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding.

“I think I convinced your other friends to get a tattoo as well,” she said as she snapped her gloves on. “

“Addie…”

“What? They can keep their shirts on…” She rubbed your shoulder with a small alcohol pad and began. Your eyes strayed towards Loki and he hasn’t stopped smiling.

The needle was quick and sharp. A short line and another wipe from her pad and you were all set. Addie covered your shoulder with second skin and smiled at Loki knowingly. No sooner had you put your shirt on that Sam and Bucky walked in with prying curiosity.

“Is everyone decent?” Bucky yelled before parting the curtain and made his way through. “Are you done, Wheelz?”

“Sweet, can we see it?” Sam asked. You pulled your shirt collar down and showed them the small tally mark on your shoulder counting to eleven.

“Nothing fancy.” You remarked.

“You know, I always wanted a tattoo,” Bucky’s voice sounded wistful.

“Scared of needles?” Sam teased.

“No…well…not really, no.” Bucky rubbed his face, uncomfortable where the dialogue was going.

“I can’t believe that the same Winter Soldier who can step in front of a speeding car at eighty miles per hour and stop it dead in its tracks…is scared of needles!”

“It’s not the needle…not only the needle.” Bucky’s voice got quiet. “The needle, the chair…it’s all just too…” Bucky’s eyes went vacant. His mind took him to a memory long forgotten and suppressed. Memories of him being revived and activated. A lab chair with restraints and a scientist with a needle on standby.

Loki placed his hand on Bucky’s shoulder, returning him to this reality. He could recognize trauma when he sees it. The horrors of war and abuse weigh heavily on the eyes. And right now, Bucky’s eyes were at their heaviest.

“Hey, you know what I think we should go next on our little date?” You tried to lighten the mood. The three men looked at you expectantly. It was your night after all. You called the shots. “Karaoke!”

⬅️ 9:00PM | 12:00 Midnight Coming Soon ➡️

Hnoss - daughter of Freyja and Óðr. Hnoss is the Aesir goddess of beauty and desire. She is associated with love and lust as well as temptation. Her name means "jewel" or "treasure"

🏷️Tags in the Comments

#Loki #Loki fanfiction #Loki imagine #Loki x reader #Loki x OFC #Loki x yn #Loki x you #fluff #angst #smut #Loki au #avengers Loki #Loki Laufeyson #Loki Odinson #Loki Friggason #Just for tonight #Bucky Barnes #Sam WIlson

39 notes · View notes

yesimwriting · 3 hours ago

Note

Armand: you are cheating

Louis: HOW ? WE DONT HAVE SEX I TOLD YOU

Armand: YOU SLEEP IN THE SAME BED, HAVE EACHOTHER AS EMERGENCY CONTACTS, YOU PRATICALY MANHANDLE HER AND YOU DRUNK KISSES AT THAT PARTY-

Louis:IT WAS JUST A PECK AND IT WAS ONE TIME

i love how messy this is, i am going to make it messier <3

----

Even now, everything remains fully focused on you.

Louis's sitting near the edge of the bed you're passed out in, his own inebriation apparent in the way that he tugs at the comforter. Armand supposes that Louis, in his own way, is trying to tuck you in and failing miserably. Armand might have thought to pity you if your positioning mattered. You've already given into unconsciousness, your thoughts too open and empty for you to be awake.

Armand straightens, his shoulder pulling itself away from the guest room's door frame. Louis grins, turning his head as he tries to look at Armand without moving from his spot on the bed, "Hi."

The coolness of Armand's demeanor isn't enough to impact Louis's easy mood. "Did we wake you? I told her to be--be quiet, but she remembered we had cereal, and for whatever reason--that was really exciting." The story is delivered through laughter.

Armand doesn't ease. "Something woke me." When all Louis does is blink at him, Armand continues, "I have allowed this friendship--this girl--into our home, into our lives, because you swore that it was platonic."

Louis's eyebrows draw together, his head tilting as the accusation settles. "It is." The defense is much flatter than it would be if he was sober.

"Really? With the way that you're always holding onto her when you're out drinking--"

"She goes out in heels." Another argument that lacks the urging structure a more sober version of Louis would have tried to emphasis. "I hold onto her because what am I supposed to do if she trips and--and scrapes a knee?" This is the closest he's come to making a genuine point. "And you've seen how she gets--always trying to run off without a single thought or warning."

Armand steps further into the room. "Really? Is that why you kissed her? Because you were worried she was going to run away?"

Louis's entire expression morphs into one of total confusion. "What?" His uncertainty is so sharp, so all consuming, he doesn't even think to defend you, to try to redirect all thoughts of potential jealousy away from you the way he usually does. "I did not kiss her--"

"Then why did I have to look into her thoughts to see the two of you at that party--"

Scoffing with a cavalierness that doesn't suit the accusation, Louis interrupts him, "Why are you looking into her thoughts at all?"

The question digs at Armand more than it should. He's quick to replace uncertainty with the anger he's entitled to. "That's all you have to say?"

"Yes, because it wasn't a kiss--it was--it was nothing. We laughed about it so hard people started looking at us."

Armand scoffs as he begins to pace across the room. "Well, as long as you say it was nothing, and as long as the two of you found some amusement in your betrayal!"

Louis frowns at the elevation of Armand's voice, his arm stretching towards you awkwardly as he tries to cover the ear you haven't pressed against a pillow with the palm of his hand. He's too out of it to do it properly, the side of his palm finding your temple instead of your ear, his fingertips touching your eyelid in a way that doesn't seem comfortable. You shift in your sleep slightly, eyebrows pulling together in discomfort.

"There was no betrayal!" The reaction is expected and still terribly boring. "If what you think happened actually happened, do you think I would have brought her back here?"

Armand stalls, his attention shifting onto you. Sleep has lulled you back into complicity, but something about your positioning still seems too rigid. Maybe if you were awake...if you were also telling him how out of context his interpretation of tonight's events were, it'd mean something more to him.

"I don't know," the response is harsh, poignant in its sarcasm. With no warning, Armand turns towards the bed. One of your arms is still above the comforter. He reaches for your wrist, the warmth of your skin nearly scalding as his fingers settle into place. "Maybe we should wake the darling thing and ask her."

Louis pulls his hand away from the side of your head in favor of grabbing Armand's arm. "Don't." His touch is firm, leaving no room for argument. "I love you, and if that's not enough for you to believe me, at least believe that she isn't the type of person to do what you're implying." Armand's deeply aware of your morality. You'd have very little interest in participating in infidelity. "You can be mad all you want, you can--you can take it out on me if you have to, but you don't touch her."

Armand's hold on you tightens. Louis can run off with you and do whatever he pleases, but when he so much as dares to touch your oh so delicate wrist, he's regarded as a monster. "You can kiss the beloved saint, but I so much as place a single hand on her wrist, and it's enough to ruin her?"

Louis narrows his eyes at the wording, his expression morphing into something much too pensive. Armand presses his lips together in an attempt at dismissing the unease burrowing itself beneath his skin.

Louis straightens slightly, something overwhelmingly knowing etching itself into his features. "Does she not regard you kindly enough?" The words are delivered with a sympathy so synthetic and mocking, Armand is briefly left incapable of reaction. "Is that what this is about?"

The heat of your skin, the weight of Louis's stare. Armand cannot escape it. He forces himself to release you, his fingers prying themselves away from you before he pulls his arm away from Louis. He steps back, distance returning his clarity.

"This is about loyalty!" The silence that follow only amplifies his lingering irritation. "I have no interest in her existence beyond your relationship with her!"

"Really?" The smugness in Louis's voice is intolerable, and Armand cannot give into his anger without unintentionally validating Louis's accusation. "So you don't care about what she thinks of you?"

"She is insignificant," he begins slowly, forcing himself to feel the weight of his words, "Her only relevance comes from you, and you alone." His gaze flits away from Louis and onto you. The realization that you've slept through this entire ordeal is more grating than it should be. "The nature of her love for you is extremely apparent in her thoughts." He allows his focus to shift towards the floor. "That is a fortunate thing."

Armand turns, moving towards the bedroom's door.

----

Daylight is just beginning to find its hold, the warmth of it tinging the sky an orangey pink. He doesn't have many hours left before he's forced to find his own darkness.

Louis has likely already found sleep, either in the bed you're resting in or his own. Though this solitude is one that invites unnecessary thought, there's a tranquility to the silence he can't bring himself to mind.

This sense of serenity is stolen from him by the sound of footsteps. Armand sighs. Of course you'd find him here, too.

You appear with little warning, drowsiness's weight heavy against your features as you look at him. "Hi," the greeting is little more than a rasp.

He turns his head slightly, doing all he can to avoid your stare. "It's early for you to be awake," he begins flatly, "Go back to bed."

You take in a deep breath before exhaling tiredly, as if to tell him that you'd love nothing more than to be able to go back to bed. "I was--I was gonna get some water."

He watches you for a moment, taking in the stiffness of your posture and the way that your arms remain crossed in front of your chest. You're likely still drunk.

Armand lets out another sigh before moving to stand. The sooner your needs are met, the sooner you can pass out in some other room and he can go back to pretending that you don't exist. "Sit." Instead of moving towards the couch, you blink at him. "You look like you're going to fall asleep while standing, sit."

Instead of waiting to see if you'll listen to instruction, he turns towards the kitchen. He finds a glass and then opens the refrigerator to retrieve the filtered water. Armand fills the cup before returning to the living room.

You're waiting on the couch, head already angled towards him. He sits down, making a point of keeping more distance between the two of you than usual. He turns enough to face you.

At some point in the night, you changed out of the outfit you wore to the party and into an oversized shirt and pajama shorts. However, remnants of the night you've had are still clinging to you. Mascara residue is smudged beneath your eyes and glittery product is smeared across your cheeks. And--and the skin surrounding your lips are stained a reddish-pink.

What could have done that to your lipstick? Was it the drinking? Or sleep? Or perhaps Louis? Or was it something less chaste? Armand dismisses the thought, extending his arm towards you. "Here."

You take the glass, taking a few sips of water before moving to rest your chin against your elbow. "You're in a mood."

You're staring at him with an openness that makes him wonder if his physical form is still capable of nausea. "I haven't fed yet."

"Hm," you mumble curiously before straightening. You take another drink of water before turning over your wrist with a level of focus the action doesn't warrant. "I'd offer you some, but my blood's probably too insignificant to be filling."

Armand stills. You heard his response. Were you conscious enough to hear Louis's accusation?

When he doesn't respond, you let out a soft laugh. "Relax, you've said worse to my face."

At least you're not joking about him harboring a secret fondness for you. "Cruelty's wasted when I can't see your wide eyed reaction to it."

You roll your eyes at the comment. "My, aren't we sadistic?"

"Only to those that invoke a certain feeling in me." He gives the sentiment a moment to stand on its own, allowing a brief silence to stretch over the two of you. Then, once he's sure the words have impacted you sufficiently, he continues, "Like those that eavesdrop."

You gasp in genuine offense. "I did not eavesdrop. I slept through too much of it for it to mean anything."

"Of course you did," he mumbles, his posture relaxing as he moves to rest an arm against the back of the couch. "You sleep too thoroughly, you have no sense of self preservation."

The response makes you frown, but there's a pensive quality to your expression that prevents the look from feeling overly sad. "Seriously. Why are you upset?"

Your ability to accurately make assumptions about him has to be one of the most grating things about knowing you. "I'm not."

"Are you not getting enough attention?" He turns his head towards you, glaring in a way that warns you against continuing. "I didn't mean it in a weird way. Sometimes when I'm upset for no reason, it's a no-attention thing."

He scoffs. "I've noticed."

Your nose wrinkles at the implication. "No, you haven't."

The argument lacks any real significance, and yet he can't help but continue it, "Yes, I have."

"No, you haven't."

"Fine," he states, straightening slightly before continuing, "Then let's talk about what I have noticed." You tense at the change in his demeanor, eyebrows drawing together sharply, but you're not certain enough about the shift to do much beyond that. "You and my companion, together at your party."

Your tilt your head curiously, staring at him with a wide eyed innocence that makes his chest feel hollow. "You--you knew about the party. We invited you, and even though you didn't want to go out, you still made us drinks."

"Yes, and none of that implied that I'd allow you to kiss my companion."

Instead of appropriately begging for forgiveness and mumbling half thought-out explanations, you give him a look that indicates more concern for his mental well being than for your physical safety. "That's why you're upset?" You press your lips together in a way that feels like an attempt at suppressing a laugh. "No, it wasn't like that at all. I was very drunk--"

"That seems to be the excuse of the evening."

The reaction seems to hurt you, the set of your mouth pulling itself into what almost feels like a pout. "It--it lasted like two seconds, and we laughed about it for so long, the group of guys next to us started looking at us weird." When Armand doesn't ease, you continue, "I would have kissed anyone."

Armand angles his head to one side in mock contemplation, "And yet it wasn't anyone, it was Louis."

You let out a small sigh, the sound low and tired. "But it could've been anyone. It could've just as easily been you."

The thought washes over him with the overwhelming suddenness of a rogue wave. He recovers quickly, cautiously raising an eyebrow at your phrasing.

"Not--" You cut yourself off, shaking your head in a silent dismissal of his reaction. "Not in a weird way, just in a totally-meaningless-way. Like I could kiss you in the same way right now, and it would mean just as little." Armand's far from unaccustomed to your alcohol-fueled ramblings, but they usually don't directly involve. "Wait--we should do that."

"What?"

"Yeah." You nod once in a way that feels much too determined. "I'll kiss you the same way, and then you'll see how meaningless it was, and then we can move on."

Armand allows himself to dwell on the idea. It would be such a small, deniable thing. The proximity, however, would not be. By the time you wake up again, it'd mean just as little to you as your earlier Kiss. By sunset, you'd be laughing about it with Louis.

He extends an arm, placing a hand against your shoulder.

"Come on," you gently prompt, "My logic is so good."

He offers you an unconvinced look. "Debatable."

"I don't see you coming up with any solutions."

Armand drags his thumb against your shoulder. You ease slightly at the display of affection. "That's because I'm not the one that created the problem."

The response seems to only make you further committed to your point. "Then let me fix it."

"No--"

"Why?" It's a relatively fair question. Perhaps emphasizing your mistakes isn't worth the satisfaction of forcing you to confront the fact that you're not perfect. "Is it Louis? I don't think he'd mind, but we can wait until tomorrow and ask, if that's better."

He's almost completely certain that Louis would mind, but not for the reasons that you're thinking of. He can't even threaten to wake you up without Louis acting like your life is on the line. "It isn't Louis."

"Okay, then let's just get it over with--"

"No," he repeats, voice a little firmer. Your lips part, and Armand can sense the questions that are to come. His grasp on personal restraint is starting to slip. "Not like this."

Armand feels you pull away from him, your back straightening as you digest the implication of his reaction. He allows you to, his hand leaving your shoulder. An uneasy warmth drags itself up your skin as you stare at him.

"You're drunk," he begins carefully, "I'm not."

The defense, though a weak one, seems to work. "Right." You nod slowly, the gesture directed more to yourself than to him. "I just--I don't want to be in a fight with you."

"We're not," he's not sure if he's willing to give up the moral high ground just yet, but he needs this conversation to end. "We can talk about it tomorrow."

You frown. "Your tomorrow is hours away from my tomorrow."

"There will be something for what I'm sure will be an impressive hangover on your nightstand when you wake up." The response lacks any particular warmth. "I haven't fed yet."

The dismissal takes a second longer than it should to register, but once it does, you move to stand. "Okay." You walk forward a few steps before turning your head to look at him again, "Thanks for the water."

You don't wait for him to respond before turning again, moving down the hall and towards the guest room.

----

a/n this is lowkey based on the new girl episode where nick and jess have their first kiss <3 also armand's reaching his chill persona limit

#iwtv x reader #iwtv x fem!reader #interview with the vampire x reader #bestie reader verse #armand x reader #louis de pointe du lac x reader

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bellaserina · 1 day ago

Text

Childhood Friends 8

A new day. A new excuse to avoid him.

Isabella had spent the morning trying to convince herself that last night didn’t matter. That Charles didn’t matter.

But she wasn’t that good of a liar.

The tension from the dinner still clung to her like second skin, and no matter how many times she replayed their confrontation, the outcome was always the same—she had run, and he had let her.

Again.

That should have been the end of it.

But then Kika called.

And now Isabella found herself sitting at a quiet café in Monaco, watching as Kika stirred her cappuccino, her dark eyes studying her with an intensity that reminded Isabella too much of Pascale.

“So,” Kika said finally, setting her spoon down. “Are you going to tell me why Charles looked like he wanted to punch a wall last night, or should I just assume it was because of you?”

Isabella sighed, sinking deeper into her chair. “Kika—”

“Don’t Kika me,” she interrupted, arching a perfectly shaped brow. “You’re avoiding him.”

Isabella let out a humorless laugh. “That obvious, huh?”

Kika tilted her head. “More than obvious.” She leaned forward, her tone softer. “Isa, you can’t keep doing this. It’s exhausting to watch, and I can’t imagine how exhausting it must be to live.”

Isabella clenched her jaw. “It’s not that simple.”

Kika sighed, shaking her head. “It is, actually. You love him. He loves you. The rest is just noise.”

Isabella looked away, staring at the street beyond the café window. “If it were that simple, we wouldn’t be here.”

Kika studied her for a moment before reaching for her phone.

Isabella frowned. “What are you doing?”

“Solving your problem,” Kika said, typing something.

Isabella’s stomach twisted. “Kika—”

“Too late.” Kika looked up, a satisfied smile on her lips. “He’s on his way.”

Isabella’s heart stopped. “You did not.”

“Oh, I absolutely did.”

She barely had time to process what was happening before the door to the café swung open, and suddenly, there he was.

Charles.

His gaze found hers instantly, something unreadable flickering in his expression.

Kika stood, grabbing her purse. “I’ll leave you two to it.” She kissed Isabella’s cheek before whispering, “Don’t screw this up.”

And then she was gone.

Leaving Isabella alone with the one person she had been trying to avoid.

Charles didn’t move for a long moment. Then, finally, he walked over and took the seat Kika had just vacated.

Silence stretched between them.

He was the first to break it.

“Are you done running?”

Isabella inhaled sharply. “I wasn’t—” She stopped herself, closing her eyes briefly. Lying was useless. Not with him.

Charles leaned forward, his elbows on the table, his green eyes burning into hers. “Talk to me, Isa.”

She swallowed past the lump in her throat. “I don’t know how.”

He exhaled slowly, as if he had been expecting that answer. “Then let me make it easy for you.” His voice was low, careful. “Do you want me?”

Her breath hitched.

“Because I need to know,” he continued, his jaw tight. “I need to know if this—whatever this is—is something you actually want, or if I’m just some ghost from your past you can’t shake.”

Isabella felt her pulse in her throat. “You’re not a ghost.”

“Then what am I?”

She hesitated.

And that was enough.

Charles sat back, a bitter smile tugging at his lips. “That’s what I thought.” He pushed his chair back, standing.

Panic surged in her chest. “Charles—”

“I won’t chase you forever, Isabella.” His voice was quiet but firm. “If you want to run, go ahead. But don’t expect me to be here when you decide to stop.”

He turned to leave.

And just like that, she felt it—the familiar pull of him slipping away.

A part of her wanted to let him go.

But another part—the part that had loved him since they were kids—refused.

So, for the first time in years, she didn’t run.

She stood, reaching for his wrist, stopping him in his tracks.

“Stay.”

It was barely a whisper. A plea.

He turned slowly, his eyes searching hers.

And this time, Isabella didn’t look away.

Charles didn’t move.

Not right away.

His gaze flickered down to where her fingers were wrapped around his wrist, the warmth of her touch sending a jolt through him. It was so small—this moment, this fragile thing between them—but it felt massive. Like it had the power to change everything.

His jaw clenched. “You don’t get to do that, Isa.”

She swallowed hard. “Do what?”

“Pull me back when it’s convenient for you.” His voice was quiet but sharp, each word cutting into her like glass. “You’ve been running for years. And every time I try to move on, you do this.”

She flinched.

Because he was right.

She had spent so long trying to protect herself from him—from the feelings that had been impossible to ignore—that she hadn’t realized how much she had hurt him in the process.

Charles exhaled roughly, shaking his head. “What do you want from me, Isabella?”

She hesitated.

And that was all it took for him to try and pull away again.

But this time, she didn’t let go.

She tightened her grip, stepping closer, her voice barely above a whisper.

“You.”

Charles froze.

The word hung between them, raw and exposed.

His throat bobbed, his entire body tense as he searched her face for any sign of doubt. “Say it again.”

She sucked in a breath, her hands now gripping both of his wrists, like she was afraid he’d disappear if she let go.

“I want you, Charles.”

His eyes darkened, something dangerous flashing across them. “And what happens when it gets hard, hm?” His voice was low, but there was a rough edge to it. “When I piss you off? When you get scared? Do you run again?”

She didn’t know how to answer that.

Because, deep down, she was scared.

But not of him.

Of this.

Of how much he had the power to hurt her.

“I don’t know,” she admitted honestly. “But I’m tired of pretending I don’t want this. Tired of pretending I don’t—” She broke off, her voice shaking.

Charles inhaled sharply, his fingers flexing at his sides. “Don’t what?”

She met his gaze, her heart pounding so loudly she was sure he could hear it.

“Don’t love you.”

Silence.

His expression was unreadable, his body still as stone.

Then—

“Putain,” he muttered, and suddenly, his hands were on her waist, pulling her forward, crashing his lips onto hers like he had been waiting for this moment forever.

Isabella gasped against his mouth, her fingers fisting in his shirt, holding onto him like he was the only thing keeping her grounded.

And maybe he was.

Because the second his lips touched hers, the second she felt the heat of him pressed against her, she knew—

There was no running now.

Not from this.

Not from him.

And, for the first time in years, she didn’t want to.

Next part

#charles leclerc fic #charles leclerc imagine #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #charles leclerc #charles leclerc x reader #f1 fic #f1 x you #charles lechair

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astrolotte · 6 months ago

Text

like father like son

#granted this is in Operation: Birthday Takeback where everything officially starts going catastrophically wrong #and like .5 seconds after this screenshot Dev changes his expression to a happy surprise bc Hazel & Cosmo + Wanda had confetti #but shhhh shhhhhhhhhh shut up #they opened the door with the same expression and that's what matters #like FATHER like SON shut UP #fairly oddparents #fop #fopanw #fop a new wish #fop peri #fop dev #periwinkle fairywinkle-cosma #peri fairywinkle-cosma #dev dimmadome

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skunkes · 25 days ago

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crinch

#what if my silco selfship self insert self was dressed more in blues at the beginning until he gets closer to his bossss who ends up #getting him to wear more red and gold. somehow. smile.#talkys #i do love hashtag marking no matter the form. like yes hickeys but also seeing your boss and one of his other goons matching in #color scheme and fancy embellishments. gifted jewelry. like oh brother this is obscene. get a room.#him not being able to express any of this in words or actions when theyre together as well #not acknowledging his subordinate when he's in the same room and yet later said subordinate opens the door to #a parcel sent to him from his boss. you have to wear this red garment for some upcoming task‚ you know.#otherwise the whole plan will fail. no other reason at all.

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peachpitfics · 9 months ago

Text

Don't Blame Me

Fandom: Bridgerton

Summary: Daphne Bridgerton is your closest childhood friend, her eldest brother, Anthony, is the love of your life. After avoiding each other for years, you both finally lose control.

Length: 3.2k

Pairing: Anthony Bridgerton x fem!reader

Content Warnings: Unprotected sex, sex in public, penetrative vaginal sex, orgasm, 'caught in the act' vibes, best friends brother.

Bridgerton master list (tag list)

Like many other close family friends of the Bridgerton’s, their home was always a beacon of safety and comfort, especially for you. You were Daphne Bridgerton’s first friend, and you had remained close well into adulthood, she wrote to you still from her new life with the Duke. Unfortunately, Daphne would not be able to meet you in Mayfair this season, the Bridgerton’s playing host while your mother and father were out of the country. It was your third year out; you had a few hopeful matches in mind, not realizing how difficult the season might be with unobtainable love staring you in the face.

“We are so glad to have you this year, y/n. It has been so long since we have seen you around the Ton” Violet Bridgerton was as much your mother as your own.

“Father’s responsibilities have been consuming these past few years. Mother and I hardly made it to the season last year. I am glad to be here, spending some time in familiar places” You smiled, linking arms with her as she escorted you to the ballroom. Your parents had entrusted your match to you, however, had requested the viscountess to keep a watchful eye.

Waltzing into the drawing room, just like old times, Benedict and Colin, discarding their playing cards, exclaimed with joy, rushing to greet you as if a long-lost sibling had returned. There was nothing as lonely as being an only child, deep in the countryside. Eloise was fretting in the corner, fingers agitated, tapping the outside of a book. This was to be her coming out year.

Anthony entered from the far side door, his feet skidding to a halt at the sight of you.

“You arrived” Anthony said flatly, turning on the ball of his foot, and exiting as quickly as he had come in. Embarrassed, you frowned, smiling chastely praying no one would notice his strange behaviour. It had been a year since you had last seen each other.

“I apologise, he is so bizarre in the mornings lately” Violet squeezed your shoulders, leading you over to a table laden with treats. Sitting on the settee with Hyacinth and Eloise, eating small cakes and discussing the books being read amongst you were some of the precious things you missed about living in the city.

In an unsuspicious amount of time, you excused yourself from company to find the washroom. Anthony stood outside the drawing room, leaning against the wall, unblinking and mind drifting elsewhere. You ignored each other walking past, which felt a lot like tiny shards of glass embedding into your heart. Locking yourself in the washroom, trying desperately to keep tears at bay, you looked into the mirror and told yourself it did not matter. You were going to find love this year, somewhere else.

When you opened the door, Anthony had moved, he was nearly pressed against the door, waiting for you to come out. He stuffed himself into the washroom with you, closing the door as silently as he could.

“Why are you here?” He asked. He looked different from a year ago, he had changed quite a lot more than you were expecting. He had shortened his hair and filled out into his body. His hands looked the same, the same ring on that damned finger, flexing in distress and awkward guilt.

“It is the beginning of the social season. I am here to find a husband.” You stated plainly.

“A husband?” He scoffed, charming disdain painted across his face.

“Yes, it is what young ladies do in polite society. Was that unclear?” You asked. Your lack of facial expression and tone seemed to startle him, he had no idea what you were thinking.

“Why are you acting this way?” Anthony stuttered forward, getting uncomfortably close.

With the melancholic drop of your shoulders, and a heavy exhale, you pushed past Anthony and made your way back to the drawing room. It was so like him to put the narrative back on you. Anthony should have asked himself why he was acting this way – after all, it was he who decided not to court you. It was he who decided to kiss you beside the carriage that night. It was he who decided the two of you should not speak any longer. It was he who broke your heart.

The remainder of the evening was free of Anthony, filled with laughter at the dining room table over a delectable dinner. The Bridgerton’s sense of family was everything to you – even if Gregory and Hyacinth were bickering for most of the meal, it still felt as it was meant to. Violet showed you to the guest room, it had not changed much over the years, it smelled the very same.

“I am sorry Anthony could not join us for dinner” Violet’s voice echoed with somber searching. Perhaps she had heard the two of you in the washroom?

“Do not be,” You said quickly, “His time is his own, he does not owe me anything” Violet bowed her head, words fighting against her lips. She instead pursed them into a smile and closed the door behind her. Those shards of glass moved again, every second in this house, nausea held you hostage, terrified of running into him in the halls.

Daphne was the only other person alive who knew what had happened between Anthony and yourself. She had been disappointed in him, angry with the way he had handled everything. While she promised there would never be a change to your friendship, it had never really been the same. You tossed and turned far longer than normal; your mind flooded with images of the past. Thrusting yourself out of bed, it was clear you were not going to be sleeping tonight, you decided that a distraction may be best. In your nightgown, candle in hand, you remembered your way to the study.

The study was clear of any inhabitants, it was tidy, and the few cases of books loomed high over you, reaching the ceiling. Nothing in the Bridgerton house seemed to change, except Anthony, and it was perpetually for the worse in your opinion. You selected a book randomly from the nearest shelf and perched yourself on the seat closest to the window, looking out over the square. Lounging sleepily, you read in the low candlelight, only disturbed by the creaking of the door, an unexpected sound, making you jolt.

“I knew you’d be in here” Anthony said softly, entering the room with caution as your emotionless face watched him. “You were always in here when we were children. No one could ever find you” His smile was humorless.

“You did” You waited before responding, wondering why he was here, speaking with you, “Why are you here, right now, Anthony?” You demanded.

Anthony moved to the seat across from yours, sitting gingerly, holding eye contact in the hopes you would not tell him to leave. You allowed him to sit, his hands folded in front of him.

“I don’t know” Anthony rubbed desperately at his forehead, “I just got up, and felt myself pulled here, some unknown force, dragging me to you” Anthony admitted. You had always been attracted to each other, always gravitating towards one another.

“I did not choose to come here; my mother asked a favor of yours. I would never have chosen to be this close to you. You destroyed me, Anthony” Tears welled to your eyes, “We cannot be near each other – you made that it very clear, you took what you wanted of me, and cast me aside” Hands pressed down on your knees, you pushed off, making for the closest exit. Anthony dashed around in front of you, placing his body between you and the door for the second time today.

“Goodnight, Viscount Bridgerton” You curtsied formally, hoping the rules of social engagement were enough for this man to understand the dangerous position he was putting both of you in, yet again.

Anthony’s hand trembled, reaching out, taking yours into his. His fingers tangled between yours, his grip strengthening when he realized you were not pulling away. His thumb affectionately circling the skin on wrist, the sound of his swallowing resounding across the empty room, his anxious tongue flicking over his lips. If anything was clear, it was the internal battle that seemed to be always happening inside Anthony’s mind.

His touch, the supreme legacy of your existence. His unsteady breath, captivating your common sense. The thrilling space between you slowly closing, heads bobbing forward as if intoxicated and unable to control oneself, meeting together in the middle in an exhilarating kiss, just like you had remembered it.

His lips were shamelessly enthusiastic, as if made for this very purpose, just for you. His forceful hands weaved into your loose hair, pulling you deeper into every kiss. You were overcome, that old bold, need for him to find its way out of the labyrinth you had designed for it. Anthony’s fingers pressed to your hips, his teeth nipped eagerly at the skin on your neck, softs sighs of delight followed.

It was when his hand moved sensually to your breast that you broke free of the enchanting dance you had found yourself in so many times before with him. Your body did not reflect the same pleasures, you took his hands from your body and laid them at his sides, and stood tall and stepped back.

“I am here to secure a husband, for my future” Tears found their way back to you.

“Y/n…” Anthony shook his head, stepping forward, trying to hold onto you again.

“If you cannot give me what I seek, please, stop hunting me down. I want a life with you, Anthony. I will love you until my dying breath… But you, you will never grow up” You said finitely, again, pushing your way past him and fleeing back to your room.

Most of the next day was spent in tired indifference, you remained in your room, preparing for the first ball of the season. Tears had stained your pillow the remainder of the night, each knock at the door struck a chord of hope in your heart, wishing for Anthony.

Eloise and Violet helped you into your gown, the ladies’ maids fixing your hair and face. Violet ran a motherly thumb under your puffy eye, her compassionate heart shining through her eyes and tender smile. You gave a little nod, knowing there was never anything you could hide from her – she knew everyone in the Bridgerton house better than she let on.

The Viscounts escorted Eloise into Lady Danbury’s estate, greeting the Queen and Lady Danbury ahead of you. Violet linked arms with you in solidarity, following Anthonys actions and proceeding into the ball.

“Who will you be accepting dances from this evening?” The Viscountess asked quietly.

“I am not restricting myself to names, I will dance with any eligible man who asks” You answered politely.

Violet gave your forearm a squeeze, “That is very sensible” She nodded, releasing you, sending you off into the lion’s den. You met up with Eloise, taking a short turn about the room to appear social, greeting the other young ladies who you’d met years previous. There were several older men who seemed to take an interest in you as you moved about the room with your friend. No one really stood out to you, no true love at first sight, much to your dismay.

Retiring to the wall with a glass of lemonade in hand, you watched the gorgeous young women excited to dance with suitors and recalled how that was never an experience you had.

Soon enough, one of the suitors who had shown interest in a season previous approached, positioning himself next to you. Lord Harlan Grahame was intelligent, considerate, and not entirely horrible to look at.

“Lord Grahame” You curtsied, a familiar smile finding its way back onto your face.

“Miss y/n, I do hope your mother and father are quite well” He remarked, having known them for many years now, he had noticed their absence.

“They are in abroad, my father has business to conduct in Greece and my mother only saw fit to tend to him during this time” You explained, “I am being hosted by the Bridgerton family. How is your family?” You asked in politeness.

“Fantastic, Mother has moved herself to the country and hopes to get yet another dog soon” He laughed, clearly happy to be free of her in his home. Laughing along with him, you spied Anthony, discreetly looking on from across the ballroom. The conversation between yourself and Lord Grahame was easy and hardly uncomfortable. He was charismatic enough that you could see yourself becoming quite fond of each other in no time at all. He made small jokes at no one’s expense, he offered refreshments frequently and complimented you in kindness. You could see and accept a perfectly happy future with the Lord.

Across the ballroom, sheer asperity brewed live in Anthonys eyes for all to see. He was known to have a temper amongst society. With a final twitch of his left eye, Anthony’s feet picked up under him, carrying him in your direction. Violet watched on, fear and embarrassment ready and willing in her chest.

“I apologise” You mumbled preemptively to Lord Grahame as Anthony arrived to interrupt your conversation.

“Miss y/n, may I have this dance?” Anthonys eyes were terrifying, filled with rage and jealousy. You paused, contemplating antagonizing him, forcing his hand, backing him into a corner. But relinquished, excusing yourself from Lord Grahames company, taking Anthony’s hand as he swept you off to the dancefloor.

You did not meet his eye, your nails dug into the skin on his hand in resentment. You said nothing to each other for the first several minutes of the dance.

“You cannot marry him” Anthony muttered in quiet, helpless indignation.

Giving him a great look of disbelief, “Who are you to tell me who I can marry? I do not answer to you, Viscount” You growled into his ear as he pulled you in tighter.

Anthony finished the dance, bowing to you, holding onto one of your hands with unbelievable force. He walked swiftly from the dance floor, conspicuously pulling you along behind him, and into a room down the hall.

“You cannot blame me for acting this way!” He yelled, “If I have to see you speak to another man this season, if I have to witness another man watch as you walk by – You have driven me to the brink of insanity” He heaved, frantic energy filling his body.

“What would you have me do? Spend my life in loneliness, a Spinster? Would that be convenient to you, Anthony?” You parried.

His hands ran through his hair stressfully, at a loss for words, unable to express himself in the way he wanted. His intention had not been to yell when he sequestered you away to this side room.

“I was fine! You left Mayfair, and I was well. Now, here you are – and God help me, I am intoxicated every second we are in the same room. Your presence is the most decadent drug, forcibly hypnotizing me. I am powerless to you” Anthonys words were like honey, carried on the end of a bee sting.

“You made your choice!” You yelled back at him, hoping the music was loud enough outside.

“I was young, y/n! I made the wrong choice!” He retorted, his words shaking, and unfiltered for the first time in a long time.

There was a second of unblinking silence between you before magnetic energy pulled you into each other, deranged nipping at each other’s lips ensued. Hands grabbed and grasped at skin and hair, trying to force your beings into one person. There was a white-hot craze that seemed to come over the both of you, and you had felt it before, a few times.

Anthony sucked your bottom lip into his mouth, biting and kissing in a spontaneous fire.

“Someone will hear” You moaned into his ear, as his teeth moved their way down your neck. Anthony did not seem to care, his mouth on your chest, fondling and sucking on your breasts, still sitting pertly in your dress. He was simply uncontrollable, his behaviour now inherently superior compared to when he had been speaking.

Anthony maneuvered your body across the room, hands comfortably held in places of control, his left on your lower back, his right splayed across your throat like the prettiest necklace. You reached the door, his hands twisting your hips to face it. Your palms met the wood, bracing as Anthony bent you slightly, kicking your feet apart with his. Anthony hiked up your gown, undoing his pants in the same instant and buried himself inside of you.

You mouth gaped silently, aghast at the entire situation, but thanking God above for the opportunity.

“Oh my god,” Anthony gnarled into your ear from behind, “Just like I remember it” He moaned, sinking deeper and deeper it felt like. Every thrust led with intense and vicious primality, his hands wrapped around each of your upper arms, for leverage. He was right, it was just how you remembered – overwhelming, devastating, unforgettable. You had thought about your secret affair with Anthony every day since you had moved away. The pleasure Anthony elicited from you sent you into a familiar haze, deep and indefensible. Every movement, every sound from him made you feel greedy, always wanting just a little more.

The way he pounded into your smaller frame rattled the wooden door you were leaning on. “Anthony! They are going to hear!” You squealed in a whisper back to him.

“Let them” He panted, “If anyone asks, I’ll tell them I’m fucking my future wife” Anthony’s hand found its way into your hair, pulling your back sharply for a profound, wet kiss. Anthonys fingers sunk into the flesh of your hip, painfully pleasant as his nails clambered for an anchor. Your body arched back involuntarily, Anthony powering through fast, harsh thrusts as he found his inevitable end, placing sloppy kisses on your shoulder as he slowly finished moving inside of you.

You both leaned on the door in exhaustion, bodies heaving in unison. Anthony placed a gentle hand on your shoulder, stepping backwards and rebuttoning his breeches, fixing your dress behind you. You turned to face him slowly, knowing he could very well go back on every word he had said not moments before.

The softest smile enriched his face, his eyes lit in such a way that you had never seen them. His arm dashed out, pulling you into a grinning embrace, smooching dear kisses upon your lips.

“Loving you causes me delirium, y/n” He nipped at your nose, your foreheads planted together, eyes closed in tranquility.

As you stood, the doorknob gently turned and Violet Bridgerton slid her head through the gap, assumingly checking on the both of you; you had been in here for a little while longer than societally acceptable for two young single people.

Her hand flew over her heart, “Oh thank God!” She exclaimed, smiling ear to ear, a sense of pride glistened in her eyes.

“I cannot wait to write Daphne” The viscountess cheered quietly, finding it hard to contain her excitement. “I knew that you would find each other” She chuffed, slipping out, closing the door. Your foreheads knocked together again, never having a minutes peace in such a large family – you stood there a moment longer, relishing such a long awaited and monumental confession of your love.

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

tag list: @cringycat24 // @blckbarbiedoll // @freyagallileaevans // @junkie05 // @rosabeetroot // @flamewriterr //

If you would like to be tagged in Bridgerton fics, please let me know!

#anthony bridgerton #anthony bridgerton fanfiction #anthony bridgerton imagine #anthony bridgerton oneshot #anthony bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton x fem!reader #x reader #x fem!reader #bridgerton #bridgerton season 3 #bridgerton smut #bridgerton netflix #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton imagine #anthony bridgerton smut #fanficiton

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atlabeth · 7 months ago

Text

heat lightning

pt 1 / pt 3

pairing: spencer reid x fem gideon!reader

summary: you end up at the heart of the bau's latest case.

a/n: took way too long but here's more gideon reader! just as irritable as ever with some actual human emotions this time around. send help and prayers bc she's gonna need it. and before you ask there will in fact be some more parts to close up this case, i just have to write them first and it may take approximately 10 years. thank you for your consideration

wc: 4.1k

warning(s): reader still has daddy issues, still hates spence, and still argues w gideon the whole time. more angst! typical cm case stuff (a stalker that has taken vulnerable pics of reader) read w/ discretion if you are sensitive to those things. more drama and more tension and more not being a good time for anyone but me

“On your right, pretty boy.”

Spencer stops as Morgan rushes past him back to his desk, eyes trained on the hallway.

“Why are you in such a hurry?” he complains. “I nearly spilled my coffee.”

“Gideon’s daughter is here again,” he says. “Did you not feel the temperature drop five degrees?”

Spencer frowns. He opens his mouth to say something when he hears the telltale signs of your arrival: arguing.

“—so typical of you! I have to drop everything the moment you need me, but it’s like pulling teeth to get you to listen to me.”

Gideon turns the corner with you in tow. He has a duffle bag in one hand and a file in his other, his brow furrowed in frustration.

“That’s because this is important,” he says.

“Oh, and everything else I try to get you to be around for isn’t?”

“You know that isn’t what I meant,” Gideon says, keeping his voice level.

“This is ridiculous,” you spit.

“It’s necessary,” he corrects. “I’m not going to play games with your safety.”

“Oh, yeah,” you mock. “Because you’ve always cared about that.”

He just shakes his head. “I’m not debating this with you.”

“Why? Because you’ll realize that it’s ridiculous?”

You follow Gideon into his office and Spencer watches him close the blinds. The door slams shut, and though he can still hear the muffled argument he can’t make anything out.

“Oh, great,” Morgan says. “Now we can’t even get Reid to read their lips.”

“I don’t think we need it to know what they’re talking about,” Elle says. “They’ve been arguing since she was brought in.”

“Of course they have,” JJ says. “Gideon sent Hotch to pick her up instead of doing it himself. She sees it as another slight.”

“She sees everything as a slight,” Spencer says. “She hates him.”

“I don’t blame her,” Morgan mutters. “Not when we only found out about her last month.”

“Surely this isn’t helping with anything,” JJ says wryly.

Elle shrugs. “Doesn’t matter. Sometimes pointless arguing makes you feel better, even when you’re in the wrong.”

“That’s enough, agents.” Spencer’s attention—along with everyone else’s—snaps to the top of the bullpen to see Hotch holding a file with the same expression as always. “I need you all in the conference room.”

“Does it have anything to do with that?” Morgan asks, tilting his head towards Gideon’s office.

“You’ll find out,” he says. Hotch starts walking to the conference room, the conversation clearly over.

JJ sighs as she stands up and grabs the files on her desk. “I’ll get Penelope. The rest of you try not to gossip too much.”

She goes off, and the others disperse back to their desk to finish up some last-minute things before the case takes them away. Spencer can’t tear his eyes away from Gideon’s office, even though he’s not getting anything.

All he can think about is the last time you were here, when he got caught in the middle of your argument with Gideon—your dad, which was still a little weird—and he can’t help but feel guilty.

Gideon is a father figure to him, sure, but it isn’t that difficult to end up with that dynamic when Spencer’s the youngest on the team. And he can go into everything about his father leaving and the psychology of that, but it doesn’t matter. Gideon treated him like a son when he had a daughter all along that he’d been neglecting.

For all Spencer knows, it is his fault.

“Reid,” Elle says, snapping him out of his thoughts, “you coming?”

“Yeah,” he says, nodding far too many times as he catches up to her in a few quick strides. “Sorry.”

“No need,” she remarks. “Gideon’s kid was all anyone could talk about when she first showed up here. This is only gonna make things worse.”

“He can’t really be that bad of a dad,” Spencer says, “right?”

“All I know is that having a parent in the force rarely ends well,” Elle murmurs. She opens the door to the conference room and looks at him. “We can’t be too hard on her when we probably see Gideon more than she does.”

Spencer recalls his meeting with you, how he barely got a word in edgewise while you spent the whole time arguing with someone half the office viewed as immovable.

“Yeah,” he says distantly. “I don’t think that’ll be a problem.”

“Why? Because you’ll realize that it’s ridiculous?”

Your dad shuts the blinds on all the windows in his office, then closes the door behind you. He sets your duffle down on the floor then looks at you, that infuriatingly even expression still unchanged.

“It’s not ridiculous,” he says. “Sit down and lower your voice, please. We have some things to talk about.”

“I gathered that when you sent your guy to pick me up,” you say, crossing your arms as he walks over to his desk. “Couldn’t even do it yourself?”

“Aaron Hotchner is the chief of this unit and one of the most accomplished agents here,” he says. “He lives closer to you than I do, and I asked him to pick you up on his way in because I knew you would be safe with him. Sit down, please.”

“There it is again. My safety.” You remain standing. “Tell me what this is about. I’m missing work right now— I know you can understand that, at least.”

He lets out a sigh as he says your name and looks at you. “Can we get through this without any arguments for once?”

“That depends. Are you going to treat me like your daughter or an inconvenience?”

“You’re my daughter, I love you, and your life is in danger,” he says evenly.

You open your mouth to retort, but your dad opens the file in his hands and sets it down on the other side of the desk. You can see from your position that they’re photos, but your curiosity ultimately wins out. You walk over to get a closer look, and any words die in your throat as you pick up the first photo.

A photo of you.

You pick up the next one, only to see it’s another picture of you. At least ten photos are tucked away in the file, and they’re all of you. Taken outside your work, at your apartment, on your morning run— god, there’s even one taken through the window of your bedroom, half-naked in a towel after a shower.

You fall silently into the chair, your heart hammering inside your chest as your eyes dart between all of the photos. You want to crawl out of your skin.

“What the fuck is this?” you breathe.

“The heart of our newest case,” your dad says. “It appears that you have a stalker.”

“Yeah,” you whisper, eyes still glued to your oblivious self, “I would fucking think so.”

“These photos were dropped off at my door this morning,” he says, and he flips to the next section of the file, “with that note.”

The erratic handwriting instantly stands out to you as you pick the photocopy up, the lump in your throat growing with every word you read.

such a pretty little thing. I wonder if she knows it.

you don’t care about her, but I do. she’s just like all the rest of us, everyone that you’ve ruined.

think about your priorities, agent gideon. I’ll be watching.

“What the fuck is this?” you repeat. Blood pounds in your skull as a distant chill creeps down your spine. “I— I’m one of your cases now?”

“We’re not sure yet,” he admits. “These only appeared yesterday, but from the looks of it, the unsub has been watching you for a while. Can you pinpoint when any of these photos were taken?

You stare at him. “Some psycho has been stalking me for a while?”

Your dad says your name again, slightly strained. “Please. I know this is difficult to think about, but figuring out a time frame would help us.”

“Difficult,” you scoff. “Yeah, that’s one way to put it.”

But it doesn’t have the bite your words usually hold. For once, you don’t think you’re mad at your dad. You think you’re terrified.

“...Yeah,” you finally murmur, and you pick up one of the photos. “I thrifted a mirror a month ago, and this one doesn’t have it.”

Your dad nods, and he picks up two others. “Neither do these.”

“So this has been going on for at least a month,” you say bitterly. “Great.”

Your dad says your name, quieter this time, and when you finally look at him his eyes have softened.

“We’re going to figure this out,” he says. “This is a threat against an FBI agent’s family, and it will be treated accordingly. Forensics is doing tests on all the original copies to try and find a lead. The whole BAU will be on your case—I will be on it, and we won’t rest until we find whoever’s doing this.”

“Yeah,” you say numbly. “You sure that’ll help? Because it looks like all this is happening because I’m your daughter.”

“I know this is scary,” he says. “This… this is nothing like you’ve ever dealt with before. You shouldn’t have to deal with it. But you have to trust my team. We know what we’re doing.”

“Of course you know what you’re doing,” you say. “You’re always here.”

Your words have no bite behind them, more of an instinct as you grab your purse from the ground. You can feel the pinpricks of incoming tears, and you refuse to cry in front of your dad.

“I— I need a minute,” you say. “This is all just—”

“I understand,” he says. “Just don’t go far. Stay on this floor.”

You nod and start towards the door, but you pause right before you reach it. Your mouth opens as you try to think of something to say, but it falls shut just as quickly. You shake your head as you reach for the door handle, but before you get the chance, it swings open and you’re met with a familiar face.

Spencer Reid, the kid your dad likes more than you. He’s nothing less than surprised to see you, from his stumbled step back, the slightly wide eyes, his hand poised to knock on the door.

A mumbled apology falls from your lips as you move around him, and you can still feel his eyes on you as you speed off. You wonder what ideas he and the rest of the BAU have drawn up about you since your last visit to the office.

You don’t really care.

True to your word, you don’t go far—just to the bathroom. Thankfully it’s close, because the moment you make it to one of the stalls, knees stinging as you fall to the tiled floor, you vomit.

By the time you’ve expelled the contents of your stomach, it feels just as empty as the rest of you. You stare at the wall, breathing slightly harried and skin warm to the touch, and you resist the urge to punch it.

You have a stalker. Someone has been watching you for a month—at least a month, maybe longer—and you had no fucking clue, and now your only decent hope lies with your dad and his team.

Normally, you wrote off anything depending on your dad as fruitless, but this involved the thing he loved more than anything in the world: his job.

You huff a wry laugh at the thought. This wouldn’t get solved because it concerned you, it would get solved because it concerned his job.

You stand up and walk over to the sink. You rinse your mouth, then just stare at yourself in the mirror.

It— it feels strange. Looking at yourself like this, knowing someone has been—still is—watching you.

You recall their words.

Pretty little thing.

You don’t care about her, but I do.

A chill crawls up your spine. You can’t shake the dread settling all over you.

What the fuck are you going to do?

You have to trust your dad, but you’ve never trusted your dad. God, he’s not even really your dad. He’s Senior Supervisory Special Agent Jason Gideon, nothing more—the estranged kid is an unfortunate side effect of the estranged wife.

You let out another breathy laugh. Would he even care if this psycho actually ends up killing you?

You stand there for another couple minutes, time idling in the background as you continue to stare at the mirror.

You haven’t cried, at least. That’s certainly something.

The door opens ever so slightly and someone says your name. Your eyes flick to the mirror almost immediately as your body tenses, and you recognize her as one of the BAU’s agents. She’s pretty and blonde with sympathetic eyes, and you know they’ve been briefed on your situation.

If you have to deal with an office of pitying looks, you think you might lose your mind.

“Are you alright?” she asks softly.

“Just peachy,” you mumble. “My dad ask you to check up on me?”

She nods. “You can imagine why Gideon is a bit high strung at the moment.”

“I’m fine,” you repeat. “I just… needed a second.”

“I understand,” she murmurs. “Do you still need some time?”

“What do you need?”

“Gideon wants to talk to you. It’s best if he explains it.”

You huff a laugh and shake your head. “Fine. Lead the way, Agent…”

“Jareau,” she supplies. “But call me JJ, please.”

In lieu of a response, you walk over to her. She offers a thin smile and holds the door for you, then falls into step with you. A moment of silence passes before she speaks up.

“We’re going to figure this out,” JJ says. “Your dad is one of the best to walk through these doors. If anyone can solve this, he can.”

“So I keep hearing,” you murmur.

Spencer watches you hurry off with wide eyes, and it takes a few seconds for him to snap out of it. He’s less surprised by your pace, and more surprised that you actually apologized for bumping into him.

“Reid,” Gideon speaks up, and his attention snaps back over to his superior. “What do you need?”

“Is she okay?” he asks instead. He can’t help it—after what Hotch just told all of them, he’s worried about you.

Gideon gathers the photos back into the file then stands up. “Our job is to make sure she will be.”

“Hotch briefed us,” he says, and his eyes darted back to the doorway almost on instinct. “This— this is crazy. We just found out about her last month, and some guy’s been after her for longer?”

“What this is is one of my enemies targeting my daughter because they’re too much of a coward to go after me,” Gideon says evenly. “We just have to figure out which one before they escalate.”

“How do you know?” he asks.

“What you said is true,” he admits. “Hardly anyone knows I have a daughter. Even fewer would know where she lives. Someone who wants to hurt me would have incentive to discover both.”

“So we look into unsubs you’ve put away that have been released,” Spencer says. “Or ones that are still in, but have family that might be bitter.”

“Exactly,” Gideon nods. “But I have to ask something of you, Reid.”

He frowns. “Anything.”

“We’re working on getting a safe house for my daughter,” Gideon says. “I need you to stay there with her.”

Somehow, his frown deepens. “What?”

“I need to know she’s with someone I can trust,” he says. “There’s someone after her, and we don’t know who—that means we need to keep this circle tight.”

“So you want me to be her bodyguard?” Spencer marvels. “Do you remember that you had to waive all my physical tests?”

“Less of a bodyguard,” he says. “More just… keeping her company. Making sure she’s alright—mentally as much as physically.”

“Why am I the one that has to keep an eye on her?” Spencer asks. “She hates me!”

“Don’t take it personally,” Gideon says. “She hates a lot of things.”

“But it is personal,” Spencer insists. “She hates me because she thinks you like me more than her.”

Gideon doesn’t seem phased at the comment. “She’s opinionated, but she’s harmless. And right now, I need to know that she’s with someone I can trust.”

“I— I still don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“Please, Reid.” Gideon leans forward, and there’s an uncharacteristic vulnerability in his eyes. "If I'm going to be on this case, I need to know that she's safe. I won't be able to focus otherwise."

Spencer wasn’t going to lie—he genuinely thought it was a bad idea. But… Gideon said he trusted him. And this was his daughter—they might’ve argued, but they still cared about each other. if he could keep Lila Archer safe, he could keep you safe.

“…Okay,” he finally concedes. “Okay.”

Gideon nods, and he watches the change in his eyes, the slightest bit of tension leaving his shoulders. “Thank you.”

“Just… make sure there are two bedrooms,” Spencer says. “I don’t need her to kill me one day in.”

At that, he cracks a rare smile. Spencer is thankful for it, that he can bring even the smallest amount of levity to Gideon’s life right now.

“I’ll keep that in mind.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Your dad says your name, but you hardly let him finish.

“No! First I find out I have a stalker, then my whole life’s going to be uprooted until you find them, and now I have to be stuck with boy genius?”

“You know, we’re about the same age—”

“Do you ever stop talking?” you cry, whirling on Spencer.

“I actually don’t talk that much when I’m around you,” Spencer says, his brows creasing. “This is the third time I’ve met you, and I’ve only said nine sentences across those meetings. Thirteen, if you count all of these too.”

You let out a strained laugh as you shake your head, trying to blink back tears. “This is fucking unbelievable. I know he’s practically your son, but this is just—”

“A safety precaution,” your dad interrupts. “Doctor Spencer Reid is another one of the BAU’s finest agents, and he is fully qualified to keep you safe.”

“He looks like a strong breeze could snap him in half.”

“This is not a joke,” your dad says sternly. “None of this is a joke. Your life is in danger—you have a stalker that has been watching your every move for at least a month, and we have no idea what their next move will be. Doctor Reid is more experienced than you in every facet of this, and I am entrusting him to your care. I respect him immensely, and you will do so as well.”

You don’t even look at Spencer, quiet rage simmering beneath the surface as you stare at your father.

“You really don’t get it,” you murmur. “Do you?”

“The only thing to get is that your life is in increasing danger with every moment you spend pushing against me,” your dad says, and he stands up. “Get your purse. Reid, get her duffle. We’re leaving.”

He leaves before you get the chance to do anything—you assume he’s finally tired of you.

You just shake your head and pick up your purse, and Spencer clears his throat as he reaches for your duffle bag. You wonder if it even has anything useful—Aaron Hotchner was the one who packed it.

“…So,” Spencer says. “I guess we’re gonna be roommates for a while.”

You huff in fully unveiled annoyance, and you push past him on your way out.

“Great,” he mutters to himself as he follows you. “So this is what Gideon’s trust earns me.”

It doesn’t take him too long to catch up to you, despite the unnecessary quick pace you’re taking. You bypass the elevator and head towards the stairwell, and Spencer catches the door before it’s able to slam on him.

He says your name, but you just shake your head.

“If we’re gonna be stuck together until this is over, I’d prefer silence.”

“I don’t really do silence,” Spencer says.

“I’m sure there’ll be plenty of books for you to read in whatever jail cell they throw me in.”

“It’s actually going to be a pretty nice safe house,” he starts, throwing his hand up against the wall to catch himself from running into it as he turns, because god you are moving fast, “Gideon picked it out himself.”

“Oh, then it’ll definitely be a jail cell,” you mock. “It’s not like he knows anything about me, so he’ll probably think that it’s perfect.”

Spencer frowns. “Cut him some slack. This is all just as hard on him as it is on you.”

You come to a sudden stop, whirling around to face him, and Spencer has to reel to the side to prevent himself from running into you. Had he not already been pressed up against the wall, he would have moved back further, what with the fire blazing in your eyes.

“I’m not going to cut him any slack,” you spit. “This is the most time I’ve gotten to spend with my dad in months, and it’s only because some creep is stalking me to get back at him. The only reason I’m in this at all is because of his job that he cares about more than me, and now he’s sticking me with the guy that he wishes was his kid. So no, Doctor Reid—I’m not going to cut him any slack.”

You’re already off on your way again before Spencer even has time to blink, and you’ve made it down the whole last flight by the time he pushes himself back up.

He takes the steps three at a time to catch up to you, and he once again barely manages to catch the door before it slams on him. He calls your name, finally managing to fall into step with you right before you reach Gideon. He, like a normal person, deigned to take the elevator.

“You haven’t started arguing already,” he says, passing a glance at Spencer, “have you?”

“What do you think?” you ask, your arms crossed.

“I think you’re giving him a hard time that you usually reserve for me,” he says. “Cut him some slack.”

Your jaw clenches. “I’ve been getting a lot of that lately. Save the profiling for my stalker, will you?”

“There’s plenty of profiling to go around,” Gideon says. “You two wait here—I need to confirm the safe house location before we head out.”

“Can we stop by my place before we go?” Spencer asks. “I need to pick up some things.”

“You have a go bag, don’t you?”

“Yeah, but I— I wasn’t exactly prepared for this sort of thing when I came in today.”

“You’ll be fine,” Gideon says. He walks off before Spencer can protest, and he sighs.

You lean against the wall, your arms crossed with your purse hanging off your shoulder, and for once you don’t pass judgment on his��admittedly small—plight.

“I changed my mind,” Spencer speaks up, deciding to try and break the remarkably high amount of tension that had built up in such a short time, and your eyebrows rise as you glance at him.

“About what?”

“I— I think I can do silence,” he says. “Temporarily.”

You huff a laugh. “Really?”

“I don’t really want to annoy you while we’re stuck together in an undisclosed location,” he says. “I don’t know what you’re capable of.”

And for the first time since Spencer has met you, you actually smile. It’s the smallest thing, just a slight tilt of your lips that’s more akin to Hotch’s moments of levity than anything, but it’s a smile.

“...Good choice,” you say. It feels like a joke, but Spencer isn’t sure.

He smiles anyway. You meet his eyes, and for a moment, you’re just another girl. Someone that Spencer could imagine himself stealing glances at in a lecture hall, a regular at his favorite coffee shop that he falls for over the course of an especially cold winter, someone he meets on a night out with the team that he ends up talking to all night.

You really do have pretty eyes.

And then your gaze hardens, darts away from him, and Spencer sees Gideon coming back in his peripherals. The moment fractures.

You’re not just a girl. You’re Gideon’s daughter, you’re in a remarkable amount of danger, and lest he forget, you do in fact hate him.

Spencer lets out another short sigh.

At least this safe house won’t have a pool.

#spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid angst #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds angst #x reader #sadie writes

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indulgentdaydream · 10 months ago

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headcanons with attractive things jason does 😭🫶

anon i have GOT YOU

When he sits on a couch, no matter if you’re on too or not, that man is SPREAD

Arms wide and resting on the back of the couch. Manspreading his thighs wide open. A relaxed expression on his face. Maybe a book in hand.

When moving in for a kiss, he cups your face with his left hand first. Then strokes his thumb on your cheek twice while actually kissing you.

Every. Single. Time. Doesn’t matter where or when. If it’s just a peck or y’all are making out, that’s what he starts it with.

Kisses on the back of your neck if he’s walking past you and you’re looking down.

Also will keep his hands resting on your hips if standing behind you.

He’ll swear UP AND DOWN that he means nothing by it. That it’s just a habit. But will keep a hand on your thigh while driving a car. Not even sexual. Just comforting.

Opening doors for you and guiding you through with a hand on the small of your back

You’re both sleeping in the same bed? He’s dead asleep. Usually isn’t. But with you, for sure he is.

And if you slip out of his reach while he is dead asleep, he’s reaching out and dragging you back like a lost teddy bear. And he’s asleep the whole time

When you’re out eating or at a bar and he’s getting a bit anxious with all the people around, he’ll play footsies with you under the table

Got so intense once he accidentally knocked the table over and you two got kicked out

This man LAUGHS

No one talks about how Jason’s laugh (may have a fic in the works about it. I’ll finish it if y’all ask)

I’m not talking “he chuckled” or “he grinned” or “his shoulders shook with silent laughter”

I’m talking about how this man tosses his head back before leaning forward, clutching his stomach with one hand, the other reaching for some part of you to grasp as you laugh along with him. How his laughter is deep and BOOMING. It takes up a whole room. Echoes across the street. Enters your ears and melts into your blood stream and goes immediately to your heart which picks up its beating to make sure to get it to the rest of your body. How he straightens up again, his face split in a grin, eyes opening again while he has to wipe away tears of laughter, his body still shaking with it.

I want to make jason todd genuinely laugh and if the sound makes me go deaf then so be it because at least i was able to hear the most beautiful sound in the universe

I’m sorry this got off topic but

He wears glasses when he reads and that’s hot too i guess

#jason todd #jason todd x reader #dc #jason todd fic #red hood #jason todd x fem!reader #jason todd x you #red hood x reader #red hood x you #jason todd x gn!reader #jason todd x male!reader #jason todd imagine #jason todd fluff #jason todd headcanons #jason todd fanfiction #red hood x gn!reader #jason todd x m!reader #missy writes

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inkskinned · 1 year ago

Text

the thing about art is that it was always supposed to be about us, about the human-ness of us, the impossible and beautiful reality that we (for centuries) have stood still, transfixed by music. that we can close our eyes and cry about the same book passage; the events of which aren't real and never happened. theatre in shakespeare's time was as real as it is now; we all laugh at the same cue (pursued by bear), separated hundreds of years apart.

three years ago my housemates were jamming outdoors, just messing around with their instruments, mostly just making noise. our neighbors - shy, cautious, a little sheepish - sat down and started playing. i don't really know how it happened; i was somehow in charge of dancing, barefoot and laughing - but i looked up, and our yard was full of people. kids stacked on the shoulders of parents. old couples holding hands. someone had brought sidewalk chalk; our front walk became a riot of color. someone ran in with a flute and played the most astounding solo i've ever heard in my life, upright and wiggling, skipping as she did so. she only paused because the violin player was kicking his heels up and she was laughing too hard to continue.

two weeks ago my friend and i met in the basement of her apartment complex so she could work out a piece of choreography. we have a language barrier - i'm not as good at ASL as i'd like to be (i'm still learning!) so we communicate mostly through the notes app and this strange secret language of dancers - we have the same movement vocabulary. the two of us cracking jokes at each other, giggling. there were kids in the basement too, who had been playing soccer until we took up the far corner of the room. one by one they made their slow way over like feral cats - they laid down, belly-flat against the floor, just watching. my friend and i were not in tutus - we were in slouchy shirts and leggings and socks. nothing fancy. but when i asked the kids would you like to dance too? they were immediately on their feet and spinning. i love when people dance with abandon, the wild and leggy fervor of childhood. i think it is gorgeous.

their adults showed up eventually, and a few of them said hey, let's not bother the nice ladies. but they weren't bothering us, they were just having fun - so. a few of the adults started dancing awkwardly along, and then most of the adults. someone brought down a better sound system. someone opened a watermelon and started handing out slices. it was 8 PM on a tuesday and nothing about that day was particularly special; we might as well party.

one time i hosted a free "paint along party" and about 20 adults worked quietly while i taught them how to paint nessie. one time i taught community dance classes and so many people showed up we had to move the whole thing outside. we used chairs and coatracks to balance. one time i showed up to a random band playing in a random location, and the whole thing got packed so quickly we had to open every door and window in the place.

i don't think i can tell you how much people want to be making art and engaging with art. they want to, desperately. so many people would be stunning artists, but they are lied to and told from a very young age that art only matters if it is planned, purposeful, beautiful. that if you have an idea, you need to be able to express it perfectly. this is not true. you don't get only 1 chance to communicate. you can spend a lifetime trying to display exactly 1 thing you can never quite language. you can just express the "!!??!!!"-ing-ness of being alive; that is something none of us really have a full grasp on creating. and even when we can't make what we want - god, it feels fucking good to try. and even just enjoying other artists - art inherently rewards the act of participating.

i wasn't raised wealthy. whenever i make a post about art, someone inevitably says something along the lines of well some of us aren't that lucky. i am not lucky; i am dedicated. i have a chronic condition, my hands are constantly in pain. i am not neurotypical, nor was i raised safe. i worked 5-7 jobs while some of these memories happened. i chose art because it mattered to me more than anything on this fucking planet - i would work 80 hours a week just so i could afford to write in 3 of them.

and i am still telling you - if you are called to make art, you are called to the part of you that is human. you do not have to be good at it. you do not have to have enormous amounts of privilege. you can just... give yourself permission. you can just say i'm going to make something now and then - go out and make it. raquel it won't be good though that is okay, i don't make good things every time either. besides. who decides what good even is?

you weren't called to make something because you wanted it to be good, you were called to make something because it is a basic instinct. you were taught to judge its worth and over-value perfection. you are doing something impossible. a god's ability: from nothing springs creation.

a few months ago i found a piece of sidewalk chalk and started drawing. within an hour i had somehow collected a small classroom of young children. their adults often brought their own chalk. i looked up and about fifteen families had joined me from around the block. we drew scrangly unicorns and messed up flowers and one girl asked me to draw charizard. i am not good at drawing. i basically drew an orb with wings. you would have thought i drew her the mona lisa. she dragged her mother over and pointed and said look! look what she drew for me and, in the moment, i admit i flinched (sorry, i don't -). but the mother just grinned at me. he's beautiful. and then she sat down and started drawing.

someone took a picture of it. it was in the local newspaper. the summary underneath said joyful and spontaneous artwork from local artists springs up in public gallery. in the picture, a little girl covered in chalk dust has her head thrown back, delighted. laughing.

#writeblr #warm up #this is longer than i wanted i really considered removing that part about myself and what i went thru #but i think it really fucking bothers me that EVERY time i talk about being an artist #ppl assume i just like. had the skill and ability to drop everything and pay for grad school.#like sir i grew up poor. my house wasn't a safe space. i gave up a FREE RIDE TO LAW SCHOOL. for THIS. bc i chose it.#was it fucking hard? was i choosing the hard thing?? yes.#but we need to stop seeing artists as lazy layabouts that can ''afford'' to just ''sit around and create''#when MANY - if not MOST - of us are NOT like that. we have to work our fucking ASSES off. hard work. long and hard work #part of valuing artists is recognizing the amount we sacrifice to make our art. bc it doesn't just #like HAPPEN to us. also btw it rarely has anything to do with true talent.#speaking as someone with a chronic condition i hate when ppl are like u have it easy. like actively as i'm writing this my hands r #ACTIVELY hurting me. i haven't been posting bc my left hand was curled in a claw for the last week #this isn't fucking luck. after a certain point it's not even TALENT. it's dedication & sacrifice.#''u get to flounce around and do nothing with ur life'' is a narrative that is a direct result of capitalism #imagine if we said that about literally any other profession.#''oh so u give up 10 yrs of ur life to be a doctor? u sacrifice having a social life and u get SUPER in debt?#u need to work countless hours and it will often be thankless? well i wish i was that lucky''#we should be applying that logic to landlords ONLY #''oh ur mom and dad gave u the money to buy a house? and all u did was paint it white and rent it? huh.''

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poguehearted77 · 3 months ago

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Imagine y’all just had the fight of your lives (maybe over his dumb gun or something equally Rafe), but later when you’re lying on opposite sides of the bed, he reaches out and pulls you close and says somthing cute or annoying idk And then, oh my GOD—it’s slow, emotional, and HOT because making up with Rafe would be next-level intense. please i NEEED😫😩

OH MY GOD YES. SOME SWEET RAFE AND EVEN SWEETER MAKE UP SEX AFTER A HUGE FIGHT. NEED IT.

#2 from my drabble game

smut: penetrative sex, some praise, I love you's, unprotected sex

Rafe is in deep shit.

You know that, he knows that-- hell, even your pet beagle, Poppy knew it. For once, she bolted away the moment the front door opened, and your oh-so-handsome, conniving and deceitful boyfriend walked in instead of running towards him.

Rafe is a dead man walking. How ironic would it be if he were to die at your hands with the very same gun he'd promised you he'd gotten rid of.

His body goes rigid when he sees the weapon in your palm. A nervous gulp falls down his throat as he does his best to stand tall. "Where did you get that?" That's what he asks you, he should've never opened his mouth.

You scoff immediately, carelessly angling it around as your upset mannerisms control your arms. "Get it? You mean where did I find it." He doesn't respond which is a wise choice.

"Mr. Montogommery called me earlier, he was looking for you--said you weren't answering your phone. He asked me to leave you a message," You're pacing now, and it made Rafe nervous. You're a little crazy, but so was he. It's why you went so well together.

"Like the good girlfriend I am, I opened your office drawer for a sticky note to leave on your desk, but what did I find? The same gun you told me would never be back in the house, Rafe are you serious?!" Your arms are flailing and he's half-certain he'll catch a stray by the end of the conversation.

He steps towards you with his hands up cautiously, "Baby, give me the gun, and we can talk about this." You snap, "No! Why should I? You don't trust me with it? Why because it's dangerous? Because it could kill you! You're right, Rafe. Why didn't I think of that sooner--oh wait, I did! And you fucking lied to me, Rafe."

Your voice is enraged and bouncing off the ivory-panelled walls of the house but it dies down to a shaky one as tears threaten to spill over the brims of your eyes. "Y/n-" He holds his hand out for you, but you give him the gun instead.

You execute a sharp pivot on the tips of your toes, ready to walk away from him but he finally speaks up and you stop--not turning around, standing still, anticipating. "I'm not getting rid of the gun." It's all he says.

Had you been in the mood, you would've turned around, lounged at him and strangled him, but no, you just kept walking.

Your bedroom is freezing that night, despite it being the middle of summer, and it only gets colder everytime you glance towards Rafe as he gets ready for the bed you begrudgingly shared.

Your expression remains sour, even in your sleep, no matter how far away from your boyfriend you are. There's enough room to fit a full-grown adult between you. The isolation was holding the production of your melatonin hostage, forcing you both to lay awake, backs facing each other but hearts reaching out.

Rafe flips onto his side, staring longingly at the back of your frame. He missed you and you were right in front of him. "Baby," His voice is soft, and the pet name lands on you gently, a testament that your anger has subsided a bit.

You turn over, choosing to lie on your back and face the ceiling. You deem that he's undeserving to see your face at the moment. "I've got another gun in my nightstand." You blamed your miscomprehension on the late hours of the night because surely he did not just say what you think he said.

Rafe can see the way your chest began to rise and fall at a much more shallow pace, he had about five seconds to start explaining before you turned on him. "I told you about my past. I've done some bad things. 'Burying the hatchet' doesn't exist for everyone, and I want to be prepared for anything. When I look at a gun now, it's not a weapon anymore, it's a tool. It's protection."

Your breathing slowed, a little. He takes it as a good sign. "I can't lose you. If something happened to you when I could've prevented it, I'd never forgive myself, and I know you know that." He's right. You did know that. He dedicated his life to you, making sure that you knew that. "I shouldn't have lied about getting rid of it, and I'm sorry."

Your breathing returns to its normal pace. You lay on your side, now facing him. "Fine." Rafe scoots closer to you, a small grin working its way on his lips. "Fine?" You nod, "Yeah, fine. I forgive you, this time, but don't you ever pull some shit like this again or so help me god I will-" He quiets you with a sweet kiss.

Well, it started sweet at least.

Now you're both watching him slide in. Your warm cunt wrapped around his length delightfully. "You're fuckin' perfect, too good f'me." He groans into your ear. His muscular arms cage you in, and you've decided you'd be more than happy to die between them.

Your soft moans bounced off his brawny chest and right back in your face, "Feels so good, Rafe-" Yougaspedp as he picked up the pace, hips rolling into yours for a much deeper angle. Your back arches off the bed slightly as sweat rolls down your back and sticks to the sheets.

It wasn't long before you were both chasing your highs. Rafe always sounded so fucking hot when he was close, his deep groans pitching up to breathless whines when you purposefully clenched around him, threatening him to fill you up unrestrained. Once you came, he pulled out and finished on your heaving stomach, catching your breath.

He doesn't get off of you just yet. He balances himself on one forearm as the other hand comes up to gently move the strands of hair from your face, "I love you," he means it, his eyes say it when his mouth does. "I love you".

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fastandcarlos · 3 months ago

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How Everyone In The Paddock Knows You're Dating : ̗̀➛ F1 Reaction

» Max Verstappen

He’s naturally paying attention to you, without even realising that he’s doing it until one of the team nudges his side. The team are well aware of Max’s eyes trailing across to look at you, or switching off to the conversation as soon as you start talking. He doesn’t know he’s doing it, but the team are well trained and constantly have to remind Max to pay attention again. He can’t help but smile whenever he’s looking at you, especially when he watches you walk around the garage with such an interest, showing a genuine enthusiasm for learning as much as you can about where Max works and what he does,

» Lando Norris

He’s like a big kid most of the time, but Lando becomes a lot softer whenever he’s around you, like you make him weak at the knees just from being by his side. The team notice how needy he becomes as soon as he’s in your presence, searching for affection as often as possible. Lando stops focusing on anyone else, the only person that he wants to be around is you. No one in the garage can believe how different Lando is when he’s around you, how he stumbles around, how he giggles uncontrollably, how he can’t bear to be in the same room as you without some sort of physical contact.

» Charles LeClerc

Everyone knows that your Charles because his eyes are always watching you. He loves knowing exactly where you are, forever checking that you’re alright and that you’re safe. When he loses sight of you, Charles can’t help but panic, eyes darting around until he spots you again. There’s a fondness in his eyes whenever he’s watching you, if you’re smiling, he’s smiling, if you’re laughing, he laughs with you, and if you seem upset, Charles gets upset too, heading over to you to see if you’re alright. It doesn’t matter what’s happening at the paddock, Charles loves the feeling of knowing that you’re right there with him, like a comfort right by his side.

» George Russell

No one in the paddock can fault how much of a gentleman George is for you, despite how busy he is, he always manages to make time to do all the little things for you. He holds the door open for you at every opportunity, keeps his arm around you to protect you from the crowd, offers you his jacket whenever he notices that you’re getting cold, anything that he can in order to keep you safe. Before a race George checks up on you, makes sure that you’re warm enough, had plenty of food, and ensures you’re sat where you can see the race in a spot that’s nice and quiet.

» Carlos Sainz

His smile always gets bigger the second he notices you’re around, usually spotting you out of the corner of his eye whilst half listening to what’s being said by the team. When he knows you’re nearby, Carlos is eager for things to be wrapped up as soon as possible so he can go over and see you. As soon as you’re within touching distance, Carlos’ arm wraps around you, with a kiss pressed to the top of your head to greet you, wondering what you’ve been up to whilst he’s been busy. Nobody else needs to look to see if you’re there, they can tell by the excitement in Carlos’ expression that you’re around.

» Oscar Piastri

Every single person in the paddock has listened to Oscar tell some sort of story about you, he loves telling them about you. He talks about you with so much excitement that every single one of them knows just how in love Oscar is with you too, sounding much happier than he ever does when he’s talking about his car. He remembers every last detail about the things that he does with you, and has the world’s biggest smile on his face whenever he shares them with anyone. It’s one thing that he’ll never tire of, forever gushing about you around his team.

» Daniel Ricciardo

It’s the little things that everyone in the paddock notices that Daniel always does for you. It’s the way he passes you one of his caps if it’s particularly sunny or passes you his water bottle to drink out of when you tell him that you’re getting thirsty and can’t get through to get a drink. He’s constantly attentive, despite how busy he’s supposed to be, he can’t help but still pay attention and make sure that he’s protecting you. The whole team knows just how in love Daniel is with you, after all, he doesn’t take care of any of them anywhere near as well as he takes care of you.

» Lewis Hamilton

The team can’t help but admire the way that Lewis looks at you, like you’re the most fragile person in the world that he has to protect. He loves to have you glued to his side when he’s at the paddock, no matter who he’s talking to. Whether it be a team meeting, a chat with a sponsor, or providing some feedback to Toto and Bono, Lewis still has his eyes on you. You don’t say much, not that you can, but when you do speak, Lewis looks at you with such an adoring look that the rest of the team can’t help but admire how fond Lewis is of you.

˗ˏˋ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 ! ´ˎ˗

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ye4gerz · 3 months ago

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‧˚⭒ pairing: jealous!bf!hyuck! x reader. ‧˚⭒ genre: smut! mentions of mark. (18+ MDNI.) ‧˚⭒ word count: 558 ‧˚⭒ cw: choking, exhibitionist hyuck, cursing, jealous/angry sex.

» read part two here.

boyfriend hyuck who has you pinned down on his bed. your legs wrapped around his waist as he lifts you up by your thighs, gripping them. his headboard rocking back and forth— hitting against the wall with every deep thrust he lets out on you. the room filled with the dirty wet sounds of his cock sinking into your insides and the lewd noises escaping your mouth.

what you forget for a second is the fact that his roommate, mark, is in the other room, sharing that same wall with donghyuck.

also, mark was home.

it dawned on you minutes ago that mark might have realized what could possibly be going on in the next room. your focus was too deep on donghyuck and his grunts against your neck, the harder he continued against you.

‘til the moment you heard mark’s door open, the sound of his footsteps growing closer against haechan’s door.

uh-oh.

you grow concerned for a second, thoughts roaming in your head. what if mark was listening to you two? what if he heard all the dirty sounds coming from hyucks room?

hyuck realizes your mind is elsewhere for a moment, and he brings his eyes to yours. “what’s the matter, baby? is everything alright?”

you nod, gulping. his concern is sweet, and the touch of his fingers against your face is reassuring. however, his thrusts never came to a stop.

you whimper and squeeze around him when you hear mark shuffling near the door.

“hyuck…” you eye the door, attempting to send the message to your boyfriend.

he looks back, a brow raised in confusion, “use your words, sweetheart.”

you look up at him desperately. he loves seeing your face scrunch up in pleasure by how he fucks you. pride washes over him knowing he’s the only one allowed to ruin you like this.

his eyes immediately snap up to yours, the minute the name escapes your mouth, his thrusts come to a full stop.

“mark…” you try to warn him, his previous thrusts so deep, your pleading sentence sounding more like a moan.

“what was that?” something dark possesses hyuck.

“m-mark…he’s listening….” you point to the door, sweating, as you felt the sudden lost of his cock inside you. you whine, missing his warmth.

suddenly his hand wraps around your throat, giving you a difficult time to take proper breaths. he slams his cock back into you deeper and harder, your eyes roll back in intense pleasure.

his hand still having a hold on your throat, only he’s cautious with the amount of pressure he applies. something dark is still living in his expression and his voice grows deeper, “don’t you ever moan another person’s name while i fuck you.”

you try to respond, unable to from the pure shock and pleasure you’re experiencing.

“fuck– respond when i talk to you. hm? do you understand?” his smile sinister, fully aware of the affect he has on you right now.

you nod your head quickly, “yes donghyuck…”

he clicks his tongue at you, “that sounds much better. now, let’s give him a good show.” he smirks, whispering against your ear. he continues to lift your legs over his shoulders again, repeatedly thrusting into your weak spot.

you lost count at how many orgasms he gave you that night, and so did mark.

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purinfelix · 9 days ago

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── .✦ such a mess together - p. sunghoon

summary: the cute little girl you tutor is always going on about how you should date her smart, good-looking older brother, so why is your annoying, cocky classmate opening the door instead of her? ────── academic rival Sunghoon x reader || sfw, tension, can you tell i love the enemies to lovers trope LOL. || w/c: 3.5k (everyone clap jet is finally writing full length fics !!!)

a/n: ok whos shocked yet another enemies to lovers fic from yours truly - but i cant help that this trope is the most fun to write !!!!!!!

Shocked doesn’t even come close to describing how you feel right now.

You feel as though if you widen your eyes anymore they’ll pop right out of your head, but the thought of him seeing you make such an embarrassing expression forces you to calm yourself. Slowly, he narrows his eyes, clearly not any less confused about this than you are.

“The hell are you doing at my house?” he spits, thick brows furrowed as he looks you up and down.

You’re about to reply with something equally as snarky, but you’re interrupted by a small head popping out from underneath his arm - which is outstretched to hold open the front door.

“You’re here!” Yeji squeals in excitement, ducking past him to throw herself around your waist. You stumble backwards a bit, putting on her head to steady yourself as you laugh softly.

“Hey,” you breathe out, though your eyes don’t leave those of the man in front of you, whose confusion only grows. “I’m here to tutor her,” you say curtly, almost in disbelief that you’d have to spell it out for him this much.

Though it’s not like you’re in much of a position to say much else because, really, you should’ve put the pieces together a long time ago. Being young and uninterested in her studies, Yeji had managed to spend most of your lessons together chatting about her life instead of doing her homework and so you had been told a lot about her - and her mysterious older brother who was rarely around because he was always busy working part-time or studying at university. At the time, you didn’t think twice about the fact that he went to the same university as you or that the times she mentioned him having exams always coincidentally lined up with yours - though now you’re beginning to think maybe you should’ve.

Details like that were easy to forget though, especially when Yeji paid far more attention to the other details about her brother which she deemed far more important. You had spent many afternoons passively listening to her talk about how smart, sweet and tall he was, how he was “practically a prince” - all the while trying to get her to finish her algebra questions. You had even brushed it off when she mentioned that the two of you would make a good couple, and how it was a shame you had never met before.

But Yeji couldn’t have been more wrong, because you actually had met her brother, and far more than you would’ve liked to for that matter. In fact, prior to today, Park Sunghoon had been nothing more than a nuisance in your university life. The one to constantly challenge your points in discussions, to steal your perfect front-row seat or to beat you by a singular mark in final exams. In your eyes, he was nothing but a cocky, good-for-nothing know-it-all who had been unfairly blessed with unnatural good looks which he used to trick your poor female classmates into liking him.

All the details matched up though, times, places, hell they even had the same last name - but it had never occurred to you to put two and two together. Despite this, the shock of the initial realisation pales in comparison to the fact that you now how to continue with your lesson - whilst he sat in the next room over, glaring at you the entire time.

You shifted in your seat nervously, eyes darting between Yeji’s exercise book and the strict gaze of her brother. Seriously, just what was his problem? - you’d never done anything to seriously wrong him, and if you did, you figured the fact that you were helping out his younger sister would be enough of a reason for him to let down his guard for once. But still, he sat there, completely uninterested in the video game he had loaded up as an obvious excuse, eyes locked on you.

The weight of his gaze only made you more anxious and when you brought a hand up to hold your pencil you noticed the slight tremble in it. You couldn’t help but feel irritated, not just at him for being so distracting, but also at yourself for letting him get to you so easily.

“I think he’s looking at you because you’re so pretty,” you heard a small voice mutter beside you catching you off guard. You let out a small laugh, about to calmly tell her to focus on her work but when you raise your eyes to look at her brother in the next room you notice that, for once, he’s avoiding your gaze, clearing his throat out of what almost seems to be nervousness.

“Nice try Yeji, but I think your brother just doesn’t trust my tutoring skills.”

She tilts her head, considering this for a moment - then with the same innocent bluntness as before, she shrugs. "Or maybe he's just grumpy because he got dumped."

A deafening silence falls over the room, and your pencil freezes mid-scratch as you glance up just in time to see Sunghoon's entire expression shift. His eyes widen for the briefest moment before his features twist into something between horror and annoyance. "Yeji," he hisses in warning, eyes shooting daggers at his sister, "shut up."

But it's too late, your interest is piqued and despite the harshness in his tone you can't help the smirk tugging at your lips at the thought of finally having some leverage against him.

"Wait," you say, tilting your head as you look at him, "Park Sunghoon ... got dumped?"

He exhales sharply, dragging a hand across his face. "It wasn't- I didn't-" he stops himself, visibly irritated at the two of you. "That's none of your business."

Yeji, completely unaffected by her brother's obvious distress, hums to herself as she flips a page in her book. "She was really pretty too, she muses, "but she said he was too emotionally unavailable and always busy with school."

You blink in disbelief, then, unable to stop yourself, you laugh. "Shocking," your tone is dripping with sarcasm.

Sunghoon snaps his head towards you, eyes narrowing as if daring you to continue. "What did you say?"

You press your lips together, feigning innocence, but Sunghoon knows you too well for that and his glare only deepens. And for the first time, instead of just irritating you, the sight of him so obviously affected by your words is a little entertaining.

Interesting you think to yourself as you continue with the lesson, now far too aware of how the tension in the air has shifted ever so slightly. He doesn't move from his spot in the other room, or stop staring at you two, but now whenever you look up at him, instead of being able to meet your gaze he quickly looks away, pretending to be occupied with his game. You can't help but find it just a little amusing.

Soon your lesson draws to an end and you begin to pack your materials away into your bag, thanking Yeji for working hard and listening to you - though you're interrupted by a deep rumble in the distance, followed by the sound of light rain. By the time you make it to the front door though, it's gotten much heavier and the plans you had to catch the bus home seem bleak. It isn't like you have much choice though, and you pull your hoodie over your head with a defeated sigh.

"You can't walk home in that," Yeji announces dramatically, clinging to your arm as she looks out at the heavy rain. Suddenly she perks up as if met with a great idea, and turns to her brother - who has been pretending not to listen from the living room. "Hoonie, can you drive her?"

He barely looks up from his phone, though there's a slight delay in his response. "No."

"Why not?" she pouts.

"Not my problem," he mutters.

You roll your eyes, typical you think to yourself as you step towards the door. "It's fine, Yeji, I'll just-"

"You're seriously going to make her walk in this rain?" Yeji cries out as she walks over to her brother on the couch, "What if she gets sick? Then I'll be sad, and when I'm sad I don't do my homework. And if I don't do my homework, I'll fail and when I fail-"

"Fine," Sunghoon groans, rubbing his temple as he pushes himself off the couch in a swift movement. He walks past you, grabbing his keys and twirling them around his finger coolly. "Get in the car before I change my mind," he says sternly.

You narrow your eyes at him and are about to deny his offer but the rain doesn't seem to be stopping anytime soon, and you're not stupid enough to reject a free ride out of pride alone.

"Alright," you sigh, shooting Yeji one last thankful look before following her brother out to his car.

"You live in the dorms on campus, right?" he asks casually. The rain hits the windshields of his car with a harsh rhythm, filling the silence between you two as you get in. The hum of the engine is the only other sound as he pulls out of the driveway, one slender hand lazily resting on the wheel.

"Yeah," you say curtly, not even stopping to wonder how he could've known that. You're too busy holding a grudge against his ability to make every move seem so gracefully effortless, even turning a steering wheel.

You sit stiffly in the passenger seat beside him, eyes fixed straight on the road ahead. You'll admit the car is nicer than you expected - spotless, the faint scent of something clean, a little floral, in the air - but you refuse to acknowledge it, just like you refuse to acknowledge that being here, alone with him, feels weirdly intimate.

It doesn't help that he hasn't said another word since you both got in, not that you were expecting him to, but still - the awkward silence feels heavier than it should. You steal a quick glance at him out of the corner of your eye once the car reaches a red light - only to find that he's already looking at you.

Your breath hitches for just a second, but you recover quickly in hopes that he won’t notice your reaction. “What?” you huff, raising an unimpressed brow.

His eyes turn back to the road just as quickly, expression unreadable as the light turns green. “Nothing.”

You sink back in your seat and the silence resumes, but with its temporary break, you feel compelled to keep up the conversation, even if it means more childish bickering.

“I hope you don’t expect anything in return for this,” you say, turning to face forward again - but your attention piques once you hear a faint noise from him. It’s something you’ve never heard before, something just quiet enough that you almost didn’t hear it over the drumming rain, but you’re glad you did because you swear you just heard Park Sunghoon laugh.

"When have I ever expected anything from you," he spits, but the usual malice in his tone is tinged with amusement.

"I'm just saying, don't think that just because you're doing this for me that anything's going to change," you huff, "if it weren't for Yeji you probably couldn't care less about me anyways."

Sunghoon hums, the corners of his lips twitching as if he's holding back another laugh - he doesn't deny it, which somehow annoys you more than if he had outright agreed. Instead, he just shifts gears smoothly, eyes fixed on the road and you hate the way you find your gaze lingering on his profile for just a little too long.

"You sound disappointed," he muses after a beat.

You scoff defensively, crossing your arms. "Yeah, right." You've always hated how easily he could read you.

He just nods ever so slightly and doesn't press for more but the silence that follows feels a little different now, less tense. You shift in your seat and try to ignore the way your heart is starting to beat just a little too fast or the fact that you're waiting for him to say something.

After a moment, he exhales, fingers tapping the steering wheel. "For the record," he sighs, his tone almost confessional, "I don't not care about you."

You crane your neck, searching his face for any sign that he's messing with you right now, a glint in his eye, his signature cocky smirk - but his expression is again unreadable. Instead, you watch the outline of his jaw shift slightly, almost as if he regrets his words, but he doesn't take it back.

You swallow nervously, unsure entirely of what to do with this new information. "Good to know," you say slowly, looking away before he can see how much that single sentence has affected you.

As you do, you're suddenly desperate for an opportunity to change the topic. "How come this whole time I never knew you had a younger sister?"

"Well it's not exactly like you know much about my personal life," he scoffs - and you have to admit he's right.

"I mean, it's not like you're an open book or anything," you reply, "takes me ages just to figure out what you're thinking half the time with that blank expression. It's hard to believe you and Yeji are even related."

"Right because a guy my age should totally be acting like a middle school girl," he nods mockingly.

"You get what I'm saying," you sigh, going quiet for a minute as you think about what to say next. "She looks up to you a lot, you know," is what you land on, trying to balance your tone between sounding casual and earnest.

You watch as he scoffs, and shakes off your comment with a slight shake of his head. "I'm serious," you say, "she talks about you like you're a superhero or something, even when she complains about you, it's obvious you mean a lot to her."

Even though his expression barely changes, you watch his fingers tighten slightly on the wheel - and the beat of silence before his response is enough to tell you that he's not used to hearing things like this. You find it interesting how even though you're practically complimenting him, he responds as if he's unsettled.

"Whatever, she's young and annoying," he finally mutters - though for the first time, there's no real malice to his tone, only something defensive.

"You're deflecting," you point out. This side of him, the one that's quiet and easily affected by your words, is one you've rarely gotten to see and if you're being completely honest, you're enjoying this far too much to let it go. "I think you like knowing she looks up to you."

He huffs, clearly growing tired of your prying. "And I think you like hearing yourself talk."

You roll your eyes, but before you can shoot back with another remark, he beats you to it. "And whilst we're prying into my personal life, Yeji mentioned something interesting earlier."

You pause, suddenly wary. "Oh?"

He flicks his turn signal on, voice infuriatingly casual. "Apparently, you remind her of my ex."

You feel your stomach lurch, followed quickly by a heat creeping up your face. "Excuse me?" is all you can manage to say.

His lips curl slightly, and it becomes clear that he only mentioned this to see your reaction. "Not in looks or anything," he clarifies, glancing briefly at you before focusing back on the road. "Personality-wise, she said you both have a way of getting under my skin."

You scoff, feeling an odd mix of feeling, irritation and something you don't really want to name. "Wow, should I be flattered or insulted?"

"That depends," he muses, "my ex was kinda terrible."

"Seriously?" you gape, shocked at how bold he's being in sharing this with you, "sounds like you're just butthurt from being dumped."

He actually laughs - fully this time, not just the ghost of a chuckle he let out before. It's still short, and a little quiet, but for some reason it makes your chest tighten.

"Relax," he says, tone laced with amusement, "she wasn't all bad, but she did have this habit of always arguing with me, nitpicking things I did just for the sake of it."

You avoid his gaze, picking up on his signals just a little too quickly. "Sounds familiar," you mutter as you look out the car window at the rain.

You don't need to turn back to know his smirk depends, "Exactly."

The air has shifted completely now. The tension is still there, humming under the surface, but it's now covered by something else - something lighter, more playful, and charged in a way that makes you hyper-aware of how close the two of you are.

Then, just as you think the conversation is over, he speaks again - this time softer, almost absentmindedly.

"But I guess the difference is, I never really cared what she thought of me."

It's such an offhand comment, something he's thrown out just to fill the silence. But something about it sticks to you, lingering in your mind as you nod, unsure of how to respond, and so you don't.

You spot the familiar sight of the dorms approach in the distance and even though you're compelled to feel relieved that this torturous car ride is drawing to an end - a tiny part of you can't help but feel a little disappointed that this seemingly rare opportunity is ending. Swiftly, he pulls up to the front entrance, parking smoothly and effortlessly.

As you move to undo your seatbelt, he stops you once again with his words. "Hey, I hope you're not going to stop tutoring Yeji, by the way," he's turned to face you now, but his eyes are avoiding yours.

You furrow your brows, both at his words and his unusual expression. "Why would I?" you say slowly.

"Well, I mean, I just figured because of me and everything-" he begins to ramble, and it's the first time you've seen him stumble over his words like this.

"Relax, I hate you, not her, remember." You say it in the same teasing tone you've always used for him, but it seems to land heavier than you expected with how he turns back to face the steering wheel, his lips forming a thin line.

You linger for a moment, and something about the air between you feels different - like you're standing on the edge of something neither of you can name. Sunghoon's hand is still resting on the gear shift, his fingers drumming against the leather in a steady rhythm.

"Right," he replies curtly, almost to himself and you can sense just a hint of disappointment in his tone.

You should leave it at that, you know you should. But something about the way he's gripping the steering wheel a little too tightly, or how his jaw is tensed ever so slightly, makes you want to press just a little further.

"Unless," you hum, tilting your head slightly, "you'd actually miss me if I stopped coming around?"

"Yeji would," he replies almost immediately - but you don't miss the way his shoulders go rigid for just a fraction of a second before he speaks.

"You didn't deny it," you smirk.

At this, he finally looks at you and there's something about the way he does it - something heavier than the usual irritation or exasperation you're used to. His gaze lingers, his expression unreadable and for a split second, you wonder if you've pushed too far.

But then, he exhales, something softer flickering across his features before he quickly pulls them back into indifference. "Just get out of my car before I start charging you for emotional distress."

You roll your eyes, but do as he says, reaching for the door handle and pushing it open just as the rain continues to pour outside.

"See you next time, Park," you say, "and drive safe."

"Don't tell me what to do," he huffs, though there's a playful tone in his voice as he smirks at you.

You return his look, satisfied, and finally push the door shut - watching as he shifts into gear, headlights illuminating the street. You know you should get inside and out of the rain immediately but you can’t help but watch as he drives off, heart thrumming in your chest as you find the beaming smile on your face lingering. You shake your heard at yourself, almost as if to shake away your thoughts, before turning to head into the dorm.

What you don’t see though, is the way Sunghoon glances in his rearview mirror one last time before turning away, just to catch a glimpse of you before you do.

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thexsilentxwordsmith · 4 months ago

Text

Simon "Ghost" Riley x Fem!reader

Fandom: Call of Duty

Character(s): Simon Riley, Reader

Summary: A fight about a rumor, a confrontation, an admission, and suddenly your in the back of your car with no pants on.

Word Count: 4.7 k

Warnings:

“Get back ‘ere,” Lt. Simon Riley’s deep voice bellows angrily at the back of your quickly fleeing head as you storm clench fisted out of his private quarters before it disappears from his sight for a moment as you slam his door behind you so hard that it bounces off the frame and swings back open. He has no clue where you’re off to, but by the direction you’re headed, it looks like you’re going straight towards the parking lot.

God dammit, this isn’t how this is supposed to go. He curses himself for the way his emotions get the best of him sometimes and especially right now.

A mess of heavy breaths and barred teeth, you try to ignore the boot steps barreling towards you from behind. Nothing and no one is going to stop you from getting out of here and away from him, so you keep your face down, eyes staring at the long shadow of your body splaying out in front of you as the sun slips down further to the horizon. When you do finally look up your car is close and getting closer; good. You need to get off this fucking base to calm down before you explode in rage and do something stupid…like put your fist through a wall.

Again the lieutenant calls out your name to your fading figure with no luck and watches as you reach your vehicle without even acknowledging him anymore. It’s no use, you’re gonna take off no matter what he does, so finally he gives up with a loudly growled “fuckin’ hell” in agitation just as you reach out for the handle, storming back into the room with another loud bang as the door shuts and stays closed this time.

The noise makes the tension in your chest ease as you get in the driver’s seat and buckle up; at least he’s decided to actually leave you alone for now. Risking a quick glance back at the bare front of his closed door one more time you harshly turn the key in the ignition and peel out of the parking lot, screeching wheels and a flurry of gravel the only sign of your exit.

“God dammit,” you mutter to yourself under your breath, your knuckles gripping into the steering wheel until they are white as you make your way up to the security booth to get cleared to leave. “What the fuck was that? Christ, he was angry. Has he lost his goddamn mind? Why does he think I have to put up with his shit?”

The guards at the stand can see the fury in your eyes as you roll up to the gate and they are quick to guide you through, not wanting to be on the receiving end of whatever has got you in a mood. They share a look between them after you drive off as somehow it feels like they’ve dodged a bullet, but that relief is short lived as not even ten minutes later the next person to come up to their gate has the same sour expression, except this one is partially shielded inside a jet black motorcycle helmet and black balaclava.

Those eyes though…if looks could kill, the guards know they would have already dropped dead.

“Lieutenant,” one of them nods briskly as the motorcycle comes to a stop and the visor on the helmet is aggressively opened to reveal its occupant, “y-your good to go.”

Simon flips the visor back down with a single flick from his hand and revs the engine on his bike to peel away from the booth like a rocket towards the setting sun, headed in the same direction you had just gone minutes before. Faster and faster he pushes the engine; thank fuck there’s only one way you can go and if he makes sure to speed, he’s confident that he’ll catch up to you quick enough.

And then what? Simon’s anger is still blinding and he hasn’t thought that far ahead. All he knows is that he can’t just leave it like this and until you listen, he isn’t going to give up.

Your eyes are locked on the road, but it feels like you’re driving more by instinct rather than by sight as the only thing you can see right now is red. Simon’s harsh accusations swirl about in your head on repeat; not a good soundtrack to quiet your anger. This is not how you thought this day was going to end.

He had caught you headed back to your barracks and asked to speak. If you knew it was going to be an ambush for him to unload on you about something that was none of his business, you would have done everything to get out of letting him lead you inside his room. He didn’t even give you the chance to get a word in, to defend yourself, just kept spewing his heated thoughts about what he believed you were doing until finally you were able to get out.

If only he knew the truth… whatever, it didn’t matter now. You wouldn’t be kept on a short leash by someone who didn’t care.

You aren’t sure how many miles you’ve gone before you notice a motorcycle driving right behind you. They seem to be glued onto your bumper, keeping pace with you as you switch lanes, and when you make a sudden right and another directly after, they are still behind you and now you’re sure; you know that bike and its rider.

How the fuck did he get behind you so fast?

Simon flashes his lights at you before throwing on his blinker to indicate that he wants you to pull over, but you aren’t on base and don’t feel like following his orders right now. Let him chase after you for a little while more, that’s what he deserves. Who knows, maybe he’ll realize that this is a fucking stupid idea and he should really head back. Wishful thinking; you know him too well to even pretend that he’ll give up when he has his mind set on something.

A few more miles and again he hits his lights; he’s not going to stop following you until you give him what he wants. He knows he came at you too strong before, but he isn’t done with the conversation. He is compelled to put a stop to this before it gets any more out of hand, he has to. One more time, he flashes his lights.

“Really, Simon? I don’t want to fucking do this,” you curse him in a mumble with a scoff. Looking into your rearview mirror, you throw up your hands in defeat to silently indicate you’re ready to get this over with, wherever he decides to take this. It’s almost dark now anyway; you can get this done and then immediately head down to the bar to grab a much needed drink.

Up ahead is the abandoned parking lot of an old grocery store that looks like it has been closed for some time. Simon speeds up to get ahead of you to act as a guide and you throw your blinker on and turn in. He leads you towards the back of the store and away from the street and the traffic; more privacy for you to ‘talk’.

Great, more yelling, you think as you put the car in park before coming to a full stop. You scramble out in a huff and slam the door shut so hard that the windows vibrate.

“What?” you say between gritted teeth, leaning up against your car as you wait for him to get off his bike; you’re gonna make him come to you.

He removes his helmet, setting it carefully on the handlebars before stalking over to where you stand. “I said I wasn’t going to talk about this anymore,” you continue on in the same heated tone, “so why are you following me? What the fuck do you want now?”

“That’s really how you’re gonna talk ta me?” he questions, matching your energy. “I’m still your fuckin’ lieutenant.”

“That’s how I talk to assholes so stick their fucking noses where they don’t belong and then get mad when they don’t like what they find,” you return, crossing your arms across your chest to hide how labored your breathing is from your anger. You don’t want him to know just how much he’s gotten under your skin, even though you know your face is probably giving it all away anyway.

He told himself to stay calm, but there is no helping the emotional reaction he has that causes him to immediately match your energy and the fight picks right back up as if it never stopped. “Oh, is that right?” he growls. “I’m tha asshole? And what the fuck does that make ya, princess?”

“Don’t turn this back on me,” you press the matter. “I didn’t do anything; you’re the one that has the problem. I just don’t understand why you can’t let it go. Do you not have anything better to do than get in my personal life?”

Simon licks his lips behind his mask to keep him from losing the shred of composure he has left. “Better watch it, luv.”

You’re done with him, his attitude, and this conversation. “I will say it again, so maybe you’ll finally get it through your thick skull. What I do in my free time is my business. You have no right to confront me about anything.”

“I think I do,” he returns.

“Why? Because we hooked up a couple of times? That doesn’t give you the right to act like we’re a couple,” you say heatedly. “We agreed that it was we needed at the time to let off some steam, that the couple times it happened meant nothing. Now you’re acting like a fucking child just because I enjoy having company?”

Your blood is boiling now because he’s doing all this without having the facts. This supposed company you are entertaining isn’t even real, it is all a rumor started by a rejected private with nothing better to do, but you aren’t about to tell him that. He doesn’t need to know because it shouldn’t matter; you’re not together, never were, and he has no right to any knowledge about what you do behind closed doors.

This is the type of arrangement he wanted after all, no strings attached. His idea, not yours, so why the possessiveness all of a sudden? After all you had done to make sure your feelings on the matter never got out it only makes you more irate to feel like a caged animal; damned if you do, damned if you don’t.

Because what you really want is standing right in front of you and you can’t have it.

“Ya couldn’t even tell me ya were screwin’ around?” he says, stepping up in intimidation. “Ya don’t think that makes it sound like ya knew it was a problem?”

His entitlement feels like an attack and you won’t stand for it. “You can’t keep me on a leash like this when you don’t even have a claim,” you bark, getting in his face. “You might be my lieutenant, but what I’m doing or not doing outside of military business isn’t for you to worry about. And once again, we aren’t together. Stop acting jealous.”

He stares you down, menacing glare locked to your eyes as his chest heaves up and down exasperatedly. “Neva said I was fuckin’ jealous,” he starts, but you promptly cut him off.

“Yeah, right,” the accusation spills out like acid, finger poking into the middle of his chest. “And the fact you can’t fucking drop it is because you’re concerned, right? Bullshit. But you know what? I don’t care. I promise you, this is the last we will ever speak about it. You hear me? Just leave me the fuck alone.”

You shove past Simon as he stands there silently fuming to walk off somewhere along the building, clearly hoping that he will turn back for the base. His heart is beating out of his chest as he stares daggers into the back of your head…because you actually guessed right. He is jealous and it is eating away at him.

Blinded by his overwhelming emotions, he moves without thinking about the repercussions of his actions. Taking fast steps, he catches up to you as you walk along by the brick wall of the store and takes you by surprise. He reaches out with his large, strong hand and wraps tightly around the back of your neck to pull you backward to him, turn you around, and pin you against the brick by your throat.

Simon blocks your body with the bulk of his, trapping you so you can’t get away again. His grip is firm, but not painful and you look up into his masked face as if trying to read his eyes.

“What are you doing?” you ask, the residual anger pumping through your veins so it’s still in your voice.

There is a pause, more silence, before he speaks. “Handlin’ something,” he says with a growl.

“You clearly can’t handle anything, Simon,” you comment with an agitated chuckle.

“Shut it,” he demands in a harsh bark. “Ya think ya know every fuckin’ thing, don’t ya?” He shakes his head, jaw visibly clenching even behind the mask. “Ya can’t even see what’s right in front ‘a your face.”

Your brow furrows; what the hell is he talking about? His remark catches you off-guard and you stand silently in confusion as you contemplate what the hell he’s trying to say, but he’s gone completely silent, just breathing heavy breaths into your face. Enough, he needs to just spit out so this can end.

“Since I’m so fucking stupid, why don’t you spell it out for me. Stop playing these fucking games with me, Simon.”

Fine, no more games. His skin tingles with the heat from the adrenaline flooding his limbs and all at once everything happens in a flash. Only inches remain between you and in that moment they suddenly feel as wide as the ocean; it makes him ache and the urge to close the distance overwhelms every sense. Reaching towards his face with his free hand his mask is wrenched above his lips before he pulls your head forward by your throat and leans in to catch your mouth with his. The kiss is so full of aggression that it knocks the air out of your lungs.

There is nowhere for you to go, nothing you can do, but hold on as he takes what he wants from your mouth. He steals kiss after frantic kiss as if he has been starved for them, not evening pausing to give you a second to come up for breath.

All that anger that had just been bubbling inside you is redirected and suddenly instead of wanting to push him away you want him as close as possible. Your fingers claw into his shoulders through his leather riding jacket as you try to pull him into you, but they are immediately ripped off as he grabs them and pins the wrists to the wall above your head. Between the breaks in your mouth’s connection, he gasps out the words he should have said back in his room.

“Ya need ta understand. Can’t just have ya a few fuckin’ times and tha’s it. Can’t get enough a ya. Was a goddamn fool not ta speak up sooner. Want ya for myself an’ I don’t share what’s mine. An’ you’re mine, luv,” he gasps into your parted lips, giving your neck a squeeze for emphasis. “Ya hear that? Mine.”

He nips at your bottom lip, sharp teeth cutting into the plump flesh to make you moan at the delicious harshness. God, your desperate sounds are like a drug; he can’t get enough and the more needy you become, the better they get. Pulling back just as you try to go in for more, he stares into your eyes, his gaze darkening within the confines of his mask still clinging to the top half of his face. “Can’t ‘ave anyone else tryin’ to get at what’s mine. Any prick that tries ta take ya away from me, I’m gonna fuckin’ kill ‘im.”

Admission finished Simon’s eyes flutter closed as he dives right back into your lips, this time shoving his tongue into your mouth, parting through your lips as he forces his way in until the muscle has filled you full. It plays against the roof of your mouth and over your tongue, tasting you, devouring all he can like a beast ravenous to take all that it can get.

All that pent up desire being released onto you.

His bulky muscles against your chest crush your body into the wall and you can barely breathe, but you would gladly suffocate if it meant your curves could stay molded into each other like this for longer. Then you feel it, that bulge straining against the zipper of his jeans, and the walls of your pussy involuntarily clench. Suddenly you need it inside you.

As if he has read your mind, Simon wrenches himself from your lips. “Unless ya want me ta fuck ya on the side ‘a this buildin’, get to tha car,” he growls, his voice husky. “Now.”

It only takes a few seconds before you’re both jostling into the back of your car and slamming the doors shut, Simon’s jacket discarded on the ground right outside the door. His massive size takes up most of the cramped interior of the vehicle, but still he manages to maneuver onto his knees over top of you as he lays your back down against the seat. With one hand he undoes your pants, clasp first and then zipper, and pulls them down just under the curve of your ass and forcefully rips them off your legs as he rips his shirt off over his head with the other. The mask is taken with it and all the clothes get tossed somewhere into the floor of the car as he hikes one of your legs up to rest on his broad shoulder.

“Need it,” he says, feverishly kissing down the length to your thigh. “Need ta be inside ya right this second.”

“Yes, Simon,” you whimper as he undoes his jeans and pulls out his cock. It bobs up and down with the beats of his heart and he moans at the sensitivity as he takes it into his hand.

“Ya said I didn’t ‘ave a claim, well I’m ‘ere to claim ya now. But I need ta say it, sweetheart,” he returns as his fingertips hook into the crotch of your panties to pull them to the side before he angles himself against your pussy and starts slipping himself through your petals with agonizingly slow thrusts of his hips. “Say you’re mine.”

You swallow to coat the dryness in your throat. “I’m yours Simon,” you say, but the measured nature of his strokes don’t stop.

“Again.”

The tip of his cock prods against your clit and you whimper at how swollen it is and how much you need something to take the edge off. “I’m all yours Simon!” you whimper so pathetically as the throbbing intensifies the more he repeats the same.

His hand digs harder into your hip as he leans in closer to your face. “I. Said. Again.”

You close your eyes tight, clenching as you pant and gather the strength to reply with everything you have. “Simon, baby, please. I fucking need you so bad. I can’t fucking take it. I swear that I am only yours; there won’t ever be anyone else.”

The heat of his lips near yours makes you shiver. “Look who can’t handle things now,” he says with a smugness that makes goosebumps raise over your skin. “ Now, arch ya back a little more for me.” His command is direct and you follow without hesitation, presenting yourself to him like you are in heat, begging to be filled.

“Fuck sweetheart, jus’ tha thought of ya with anyone else gets me so god damned riled up,” he says with a grunt as he positions himself at your entrance, your panties nearly ripping still laced in his fingers. “No one can ‘ave ya like this ‘cept me. Understand?”

You give him a vigorous nod, praying that soon the agony will end. “No one.” Your repeated words are a plea.

Simon’s heart races at how you say it. “You’re neva’ gonna stray, are ya?”

“No,” you whine.

“Good fuckin’ girl.”

With that he shoves in just the tip through the threshold, instantly feeling the stretch of your core by the girth of it, groaning through a chuckle as you mewl taking him in. He doesn’t give you time to adjust and snaps his hips to thrust all the way down to the base of his shaft. The wind gets knocked out of you, but again he doesn’t pause and the axle of the car creaks as his desperate strokes overwhelm everything from you to the vehicle with the force.

“Ya think anyone else can make ya feel like this?” he asks through gritted teeth as he pounds into you hard and rough over and over again in rhythm. “Some manky bastard gonna make ya moan like this?”

There’s no way you can answer him with how full your mouth is with moans, how numb your mind is as everything in you focuses on the sensation of his thrusts reaching deeper and deeper inside. It only gets worse when he decides that one leg on his shoulder isn’t enough; it needs its twin on the opposite one. From here you swear you can feel him in your stomach with how deep he penetrates.

“Ya think he would even know what ya like? How to play with your clit, how to suck on your tits till you’re vibratin’ and your toes curl?”

How the fuck did he remember all that? You’ve only been together a few times and yet it’s obvious that he’s paid so much attention to detail that he’s memorized everything of those intimate details that make you a mess. As if right on cue his hand slips down between your bodies and parts through your petals to massage the nub at the top of your pussy.

“Ya think I wouldn’t care ta know what ya like?” he asks, the gravel in his voice delicious and yet menacing as you throw your head back and release a loud moan. “How else am I gonna make sure ya belong ta me? I need ta fuckin’ ruin this sweet little pussy so no one else can compare. I wanna be the only fuckin’ thing in that pretty head ‘a yours.”

As if you’d ever have the strength after this to even think of another man that isn’t him. The fictional man that got you into this predicament didn’t even exist and yet somehow you still feel guilty about him. There is only Simon, your Simon, that you can’t get enough of; no one else can ever come close.

The lights in the parking lot kick on just as the last bit of daylight slips under the horizon and you can see now just how fogged up the windows are as Simon rips up your shirt and bra together, stuffing the clothing up around your neck and popping both breasts out of their cage before letting your legs slips from his shoulders to fall and wrap around his hips.

“Can’t forget about these beauties,” he growls before diving in face first and catching one with his mouth.

Hot lips latch on as he braces a hand against the steam-covered window to hold himself steady so that he can continue to pump in and out of your tight hole and play with your clit as his tongue teases the nipple until it’s stiff and you can feel the pleasurable sensation down between your thighs. The moans filling the car come faster and faster as the heat gathering in the pit of your stomach grows. Simon doesn’t even come up for air, just switches sides to play with the other nipple until it too is hard; he wants a matching set before you come and he is gonna get what he wants.

Your thighs squeeze down on his hips as that heat violently gathering in the pit of your stomach starts to come to a head and a devilish idea floods your thoughts. It won’t be long now and your orgasm will be coursing through you, but that’s not enough. If he wants to claim you, he is going to claim all of you…and fill you full.

“Don’t pull out,” you stammer out and he falters in his thrusts.

Simon quickly releases your breast from his mouth.“What did ya say?”

You lock your ankles together tightly behind his back so he can’t escape. “Don’t you dare pull out,” you repeat and he nearly comes right then and there just from how the request makes his heartbeat pound. “God, I’m so close, baby. Please, I need you to come in me.”

Fuck, what a request. How the hell could he possibly refuse? He made a declaration after all and he intends to keep it; he is going to ruin you and he is more than willing to breed you to do it. His hands move to your hips and he buries his fingers in the muscles.

“Then you’re gonna get what ya fuckin’ want, sweetheart,” he says as he strikes up into you with a newfound vigor that makes your body bounce. “You’re gonna take every last goddamn ounce.”

“Right there,” you moan, the pressure euphoric, “stay right there.”

He grunts. “Come for me. Come on my cock. Let me feel that fuckin’ clench.”

He struggles to repeat the same exact movements, his own release about to pop off at any second, but with a bit of effort his hard work pays off and that heat reaches its peak. The tension snaps harshly and tears through you until your body is jerking as you ride out wave after wave of ecstasy.

God, the way your walls are fluttering around him as you let go is heaven and he loses himself in the sensation. All that tight, wet, heat sends tingles through his cock and he can no longer remain sane.

“My pretty girl…” he murmurs, his thrusts slowly getting more sloppy… “mine…” he repeats, nearly there, preparing to make sure you take every ounce of his cum and coat your walls… “all fuckin’ mine.”

That’s it, he can’t take another thrust and with an open-mouthed moan he comes hard. Cum shoots up inside you as he milks himself with your body until he has nothing left to give and kneels there resting inside you. You watch the muscles along his abdomen contract and release as he slowly comes back down from that high.

Such a masterpiece of flesh.

Minutes pass until he feels like he can pull out and he spends that time peppering your lips with tender kisses. Finally he carefully removes your legs from around him and sets them down on either side of his thighs, holding them open so that he can lean back and watch his cum and your slick dribble out of your cunt onto the cushion beneath you. What a beautiful mess he’s made; he can’t stop staring at it as if he’s in a trance.

A visual sign that his claim is finally complete.

“Tha’s a sight that could do me in,” he breathes. “Ya did so good for me, sweetheart.”

He releases your panties so that they fall back into place and you can feel everything starting to gather in the crotch. You sit up and he pulls your face in for one last kiss; you’ve been here long enough that if you don’t get out of here soon it’s gonna draw unwanted attention.

“Now get your ass back ta base and make it quick,” he says as he pulls slowly from your lips, “I want ya in my room, in tha shower; ya got exactly 20 minutes so ya best not stop. I’m not done with ya just yet.”

1K notes · View notes

nanpecan · 6 months ago

Text

₊✩‧₊˚once more to see you˚₊✩‧₊

{nanami x f!reader}

˚₊✩‧₊summary: You're a manager at Jujutsu Kaisen and happen to get assigned to driving a rank 1 sorcerer you've had a crush on for a while. Everything seems to be going as normal until an interaction with a curse leaves him a little hot and bothered.

˚₊✩‧₊tags: nanami x fem!reader, explicit smut (mdni) !!

˚₊✩‧₊ word count: 5.6k

˚₊✩‧₊author's note: this has been in my head for so long and I guess its part one to a longer story but who knows if I'll ever get around to writing it, yet alone posting it. anyways first time, kinda nervous; this is super self indulgent and i'm not even sorry about it.

˚₊✩‧₊this is also kind of inspired by this Mitski song, hence the title. I love this song, I think it's very Nanami coded<3

˚₊✩‧₊all parts here! pt 2. pt 3. pt 4. pt 5. pt 6.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

An obsession.

That’s what it was.

A rush of emotion when you caught even the smallest glance of him.

Always in a hurry.

Always somewhere to be.

Never paying any mind to you.

This lifestyle was a rushed one and you hardly ever found time for yourself, but your mind always seemed to have a second to wonder about him.

Was he safe? Was he injured?

You had heard about him through others.

You had really only seen him in action from a distance, once, and very briefly. But that had been enough to develop this stupid crush.

You were a busy body, nothing but a cushion to the real missions of importance.

You had come to accept that you would never really matter past making it from point A to point B, with whatever message you had to deliver, or whoever you had to transport for the day.

You were secretly content with the position. You had started because you wanted to make a difference.

But you knew you were a coward.

You had the spirit but lacked the physical strength to back it. And that made you afraid.

“Nanami Kento.”

Your hand stopped mid air as you reached for your phone.

“I’m sorry?” You must have misheard.

“You owe me one.” Akari said with a smirk. The head manager had been one of your closest friends since you had begun working as an assistant. You had similar pasts and were around the same age, so you had instantly clicked. She was very much aware of your infatuation even if you hadn’t directly expressed it. She could see right through you every time you tried to feign indifference whenever the topic of Nanami was brought up.

“Nanami needs transportation to his next mission. He usually goes on his own, but the client insisted he gets driven to this location specifically.” There was something suspicious about that last statement, but you dismissed it as she kept talking. “Ijichi is busy dealing with something so it was passed down to me.” She smiled again and shrugged. “But I have some very important business to take care of so I’m passing it on to someone I trust is more than qualified to drive a sorcerer of his class.” She winked at you. “Don’t worry about the briefing he’s been sent all the information. All you have to do is drive him there and back.”

You looked down at your phone and tried to act nonchalant. Until you saw the details. “Today?”

She nodded. “Sorry for the last minute switch up, I figured you’d get in your own head if you had too much time to think about it. Make a good first impression. I’m rooting for you!” She gave you two thumbs up and laughed.

You tapped your finger against the wheel nervously. You had never been more nervous to drive. It’s okay, you thought to yourself, nothing is going to happen, I doubt he’ll even speak to me. He’s not much of a talker, and besides, he always carries around a newspaper or a book. He won’t be paying attention to me. Just focus on-

You flinched as you heard the passenger door open. You had expected him to sit behind you.

You felt your stomach drop as Nanami was suddenly next to you. It was almost overwhelming, his size, his smell, his warmth.

You stared ahead awkwardly and felt his gaze on you. You turned to look at him trying not to seem too flustered.

“Ah, good afternoon.” You smiled warmly at him. “Um, I’m y/n.” You said.

He nodded and didn’t say anything back.

“Right, it should take us around 36 minutes to get to your location.”

He nodded again, his glasses turning to his watch. He suddenly looked up and stared ahead, as to signal that he was ready to head out.

This was so awkward. It was kind of making it easier to be around him. You didn’t know what else you expected. You’d actually preferred the silence rather than trying to carry a conversation with him. At least that’s what you were telling yourself.

“Feel free to mess with the radio. I don’t have any preferences.”

“I prefer to sit in silence before missions.” His voice sent a chill up your spine. Wait a minute, in silence? Weird. You thought to yourself. “Is that okay?”

“Yes, that’s fine too.” Really weird. Most sorcerers would listen to something to amp them up before a mission. For Kusabe that was smooth Jazz, Yuki would put on 80’s Japanese Rock Classics, Ino would put on Ska and you couldn’t help but laugh the first time he requested it. You smirked at the memory and felt his eyes on you again. You dropped the smile and clenched your jaw. “Alright, we’ll be off then.” He hadn’t stopped staring. You quickly turned to look at him and smiled warmly. He turned away, seeming flustered. You quickly made a note of his reaction and you felt your stomach flutter a bit. You let your eyes linger on him for a bit longer, as he tugged at an invisible string on his suit, before turning away and driving off.

You arrived at your location and looked up at the old building. You bit your lip to hold back a laugh. The crooked neon sign over the door was no longer lit up but you could still read out what it said, ‘Paradise X Massage.’ You curiously looked over to see Nanami’s reaction. As usual, he was stoic.

He has to know what that means, right? You went around the car to stand next to him and the moment you took a step closer you felt the aura of the building. A shiver went up your spine and your stomach felt tingly. You couldn’t help but smile. A curse born from a place of sex was bound to have this kind of aura.

Things started to click. Of course Nanami was the best sorcerer for the job. He would take this very seriously. You doubted he ever let his emotions get ahead of him. You thought back to a story Ijichi had told you a long time ago about a group of male sorcerers that had been sent to exorcise a type of Kejoro, only for them to return unsuccessful, unable to carry out the mission, as well as being hot and bothered for a week.

You felt Nanami’s eyes on you again. You looked at him before turning back at the sign and scrunching your face. “Nanami, I wouldn’t have taken you for this type of man, but don’t worry I won’t tell.” You winked at him and cringed at your stupid joke. You didn’t know him like that. He probably thought you were insane.

“Thank you, I try not to make it a habit.” He said back with a small smile.

You looked at him a little surprised and laughed.

“There you are, hello!” A sweaty man with beady eyes came your way and beelined to Nanami. “My name is Gonji, I was the one who sent for you.” He glanced at your direction before turning his back to you to speak with Nanami. You blinked and grimaced. “I bought this location five months ago, I should have known there was something wrong for the price I paid, but hey! That’s business! I’m planning on fixing her up and turning it into a real refined establishment if you know what I mean. I already have the clientele, and the girls but this damn thing keeps scaring the girls away and-“ he whispered the next words. “-killed three of my guys. But hey, that’s business!” He laughed nervously. He was talking a mile a minute, becoming more and more sweaty. The air had to be getting to him. “Anyway I’ve already called a bunch of weirdos to go in there and kill the damn thing but they were all useless. Scammers all of them.” He spat at the ground. “Hey if ya help me out, I’m sure we can work out some sort of discount for you once we’re up and running. What do you say, your choice of girl-“

“Has it taken any hostages?” Nanami cut him off.

“No it only scares off the girls, but lets them out. The men on the other hand…If they do manage to make it out they act like wild animals. I have to keep them away from my girls.” He laughed and then erupted into a coughing fit. “That’s why I recommend you bring a driver. Even if you do kill this thing, the tent in your pants won’t let you focus on anything else for another two hours.” He cackled and elbowed Nanami in a playful manner. Nanami’s jaw clenched and he stared down at the man. Gonji didn’t seem to notice. He finally turned towards you. “Well at least you brought yourself a cute mouse to play with if it gets to be too much.” You couldn’t hide the look of disgust on your face when he finally looked at you. “Hey there little lady, a smile might help.” He rolled his eyes and turned back to Nanami. “Women these days. Can’t take a joke.” He tried elbowing Nanami again and was stopped by Nanami’s large hand grabbing his forearm.

“We’ll get started. Did you want to go inside with me?” Nanami asked the man.

Gonji pulled his arm out of Nanami’s grasp and swore at him under his breath. “No, I’m taking off. I have places to go, people to see, although I’d pay god knows what to see that bitch’s blood spilled on the floor.” He looked around and picked up a rock before weakly throwing it at the sign. He missed, it didn’t even hit the wall. He messed with his jacket, embarrassed. “I’ll be leaving now. I’ll send the payment tomorrow when I come and see the place again.” He waddled off.

“What a fucking dickhead.” You said. “We shouldn’t even exorcise this curse. He shouldn’t be allowed to run a place like that. I’m willing to bet-“

“Will you put up the barrier?” You turned back to Nanami and nodded before muttering the incantation. Nanami awkwardly placed a hand on your shoulder. “I’m sorry you had to hear that.” He turned towards the barrier. “For the record I agree. Scum like him are a scourge to society and should be dealt with accordingly. For now let’s bring this curse some peace.”

“Let’s.” You said in agreement. You watched him disappear into the veil.

You leaned back against the car and checked the time on your watch. He had been gone for 20 minutes now. You sighed. Was it an insult to worry about him? He was one of the best - in your heavily biased opinion.

You heard your phone ding from inside the car as you received a message and you quickly went around to check it.

-So when’s the wedding?

Akari was checking in on you.

-answer me this, what does it mean when someone doesn’t want to listen to any music on a 30 minute drive.

-No music? Like at all? -none. -weird.

-that’s what I was thinking! he must be fighting demons in his head. -or he just wanted to savor every minute with you<3 -shut up. -how’s it going anyway? -don’t you have “important” business to take care of? -:p boooo -it’s fine, it’s some sort of sex cu-

You jumped as the back passenger door to your right was suddenly being opened. You felt the car shake as Nanami collapsed into the seats.

“Shit, Nanami? Are you okay.” You should have been out there to greet him. You exited out of the car and dropped the veil. The building was a pile of rubble. You made your way around the car and yanked open the door.

You felt blood rush to your face and your jaw dropped as you looked at what lay in front of you.

Nanami had taken off his suit jacket, and was no longer wearing his glasses. He was suddenly desperately undoing his tie and fumbling with the buttons on his shirt, all the while breathing heavily. He turned away from you as you looked in.

“What’s wrong, are you injured? How can I help?” Your face felt hot as you watched him struggle with his clothes. You hesitated to move forward, unsure what to do.

He moved around a bit more, still struggling with his shirt, and you got a better look at him. His face was flush red and there was a slight sheen of sweat on his forehead. He was panting, basically gasping for air. You stared at him feeling a burning in your chest as your heart beat in your ears.

You snapped out of your trance, this was not the time. He might be hurt. He had backed up enough to be leaning on the opposite car door so you moved forward and let the door shut behind you. “Let me help you with that.” You said softly, moving your hands closer to help him with the buttons. “Are you hurt?” You asked as he let out a soft grunt. “Let me take a look.” His hands fell to his side and you noticed he was gripping the seats. He winced away from your touch, hissing as your knee touched his thigh.

You froze. Your hands still on his shirt. He shuddered away from you but you felt him move his thigh forward, slightly, to touch your knee again. He let out a deep exhale and a muffled grunt. He repeated the movement again and again. You stayed there staring at him, face burning as you realized he was basically humping you. His breaths got faster and you felt the ghost of his hand on your back slowly pulling you closer. His inner thigh was now pushing into your knee repeatedly and you felt him slightly buckle his hips as his hand finally landed on your neck and pulled you forward. Your hands, still on his shirt buttons, pushed lightly against his chest and your head fell into the space above his shoulder, cheeks now next to each other. He pushed hard against your knee one more time and then you heard him moan deeply into your ear.

“Fuck.” You heard him mutter. His voice was full of frustration. “Fuck.” He said again.

You slowly pulled back, looking at him, completely in shock. He wasn’t meeting your gaze. He just kept muttering “fuck” and “sorry” under his breath.

You looked down and once again felt blood rush to your face as you realized what had happened.

Since his body was leaned back against the door, you had crawled closer to him and were now on your knees between his legs. You guessed at some point he had managed to undo his belt, the button to his trousers, and pulled down the zipper because you were staring at his erection through the fabric of his underwear. It was soaked.

You quickly pulled back away from him, somewhat losing your balance and placing your hands back down to steady yourself. Nanami lurched up as you placed your hands on his thighs and you watched as he came again. This time seeing the white liquid bleed through the fabric and drip down.

“I- I am so sorry.” You said quickly and started to back away. You needed to leave him alone. One of his hands grabbed onto your arm keeping you in place. You looked at him confused.

“No, stop,” he said, panting. “I’m sorry,” he said, finally looking into your eyes. “I’m sorry. Fuck, I apologize. This is bad. I can't control-“ he squeezed your arm a little as his eyes shut and his brows knit together. “I need...” he looked into your eyes and slowly moved closer to you. His face was inches away and you felt the warmth radiating off of him. He looked directly at you now and seemed to be looking for some sort of sign. His eyes were beautiful. You realized this was the first time you had seen them. “Please…” You continued to stare at him, in shock. He wriggled beneath you and let out a soft moan. “I need you.”

You understood.

You quickly moved closer to him, crashing your lips into his. He moaned into your mouth and desperately pressed his lips to yours. You pushed your tongue through his closed lips and he slightly opened his mouth meeting you with his own tongue. You let him slither his in yours before closing your mouth and tugging at his lips slightly. When you finally pulled back you were both panting heavily, a string of saliva connecting you. You looked down and saw he had come again.

“Y/N, please,” he took your hand and pulled it towards him. “I want…” you looked at him and smirked. Your eyes wandered down as he groaned again.

“What do you want?” You said mischievously. You looked back up.

“Please.” You had intended to tease him, but he looked so distraught and frazzled, you felt it would be too mean spirited. You nodded and let his hand guide you to his pants. You laid your hand down gently over him and felt him twitch underneath you. He groaned and you felt your face burn up again. This was happening.

“I’ll-I’ll help you out, don’t worry.” You said nervously. You pressed down and his hips jutted into your hand. Your chest felt fluttery as your eyes were glued down to your hand and his member twitching beneath it. You smiled a little and clenched your thighs together. Focus. You were all talk. You tried to hide your nerves as you slowly wrapped your fingers around his clothed cock. He tried to suppress a moan as he shuddered underneath you. You watched the discoloration in his underwear spread as more fluid leaked out. “Wow.”

He suddenly pulled your face closer to him and kissed you. He was desperate for contact, moaning into your mouth as he used his free hand to pull down the band of his underwear and you gasped as you felt his hot skin in your hand.

You opened your eyes to try to sneak a peek but his right hand was buried in your hair, keeping you in place to make out with him. You kept your fingers together and wrapped around him as he thrust his hips forward, sliding between your curled fingers easily. He tugged at your bottom lip with his teeth as you felt him wrap a hand around yours, guiding you to stroke him. His breath shuddered at the feeling and he pulled you closer again. You moved your free hand to steady yourself as you leaned over him.

He looked up at you and you saw fire burning in his eyes. He suddenly moved your hand away from his dick and placed his hands on your hips lifting you slightly so he could readjust himself under you. You were straddling him. He watched you carefully as he gently rocked his hips up between your legs and moved his hands up to go under your shirt. He waited patiently for your approval. You nodded and his hands slithered up your shirt to cup your breasts. You gasped as he roughly kneaded you and you started to undo the buttons on your shirt. Nanami decided you weren’t fast enough and ripped the shirt off of you. You didn’t have time to process past the sound of fabric ripping because he sat up and kissed you again.

His hands moved impatiently all over your body as he pulled you closer. He was rough, but not in an aggressive way, he was impatient. You suddenly felt his fingers work their way into the waistband of your pants and you moved your hands to stop him. He looked up at you and stopped moving. He stared silently, still breathing heavily. “Would you like me… to stop?” He asked.

You looked down at him and took a moment to assess the situation. Nanami was half naked laying under you. His shirt was now off revealing his toned chest and abdomen. You finally looked down and saw his dick. Wide and long, the bright red tip was leaning right and radiating heat. Your mouth watered. And you lightly moved your hips forward to feel it push against your core.

“Is there a problem?” He asked.

You hesitated to answer him. How embarrassing, you thought to yourself, this is probably going to hurt. Would he stop if you told him you were a virgin? Maybe it would be for the best. You could feel yourself soaking through your underwear, but would that be enough? He was big. You looked back up at him and opened your mouth to speak. You met his eyes and you blushed. His hair was tousled, skin pink and flush and of course he was breathing deeply. You noticed something on the side of his neck. A cut. It was a puncture wound, no bigger than your pinky nail, but it looked deep.

“You’re injured.” You put your hand up to it and carefully examined it. It was emoting cursed energy and everything clicked. He might have defeated the curse in the building but she had gotten a good lick in. You put your hand over it to heal him.

You weren’t good at much, but your ability to use a tiny amount of RCT had been your saving grace. Not that you were very good at it. You could really only handle superficial wounds like this one.

Suddenly his hand grabbed your wrist and pulled it away. “Later,” he said. You stared at him confused. “I want to finish you first.” His hips thrust upwards against your pants and you couldn’t help but smile. You nodded and brought your hands down to undo the button to your pants. Nanami hissed under you as you shifted your weight around trying to pull your pants down. You were able to get one leg out and began pulling them down the other when he grabbed you quickly and settled you on top of him again. He looked up at you and you watched his eyes move down to take in your body. “Are you ready?”

You looked back at him nervously. “I-you’re so big.” You were too embarrassed to tell him it was your first time. He sat up and was suddenly inches from your face.

He smiled coyly and nodded. “It’s okay, I can help you.” You felt one of his hands grip your waist and the other moved down to rub your clit. Your breath shuddered and you automatically buckled your hips against his hand. You wrapped your arms around his shoulders for support. He smiled wider, amused. His fingers moved lower and he slid them between your folds to collect your arousal. You were breathing heavily, your face buried into his chest. You felt him slip a finger inside of you, slowly, you felt him push up against you as far as he could go before there was a slight pop.

A moan escaped your lips as he pushed his finger deeper. “Fuck,” he muttered. “You’re so tight.” You felt him drag his finger out, “I’m adding another one, okay?” You nodded lost in bliss. You bit your lip as you felt his fingers stretch you out again, this time sliding in a bit easier. His hands were large and his fingers long, but you knew this was easy to take compared to the real thing. Your ability to think was damped as he sped up his thrusts and his other hand slid down to rub your clit again with his thumb. You gasped and felt yourself clench onto him. You moved your hips forward desperate to feel friction. You were panting wildly and felt yourself getting close. You moved your arm down and wrapped a hand around his cock. Roughly stroking it, to repay the favor.

“Wait-I’m close, I-I want you inside of me.” You whispered into his ear. You could feel his heartbeat quicken as his lips crashed down on yours again.

“Whatever you want.” He said. He removed his fingers and you winced at the new empty feeling. Still rubbing your clit with one hand, he moved his now free hand to stop your strokes and guided himself between your legs. He thrust slowly against your folds running his cock between your thighs and your mound and you buckled your hips against him.

You smiled happily. Even if you couldn’t take him, you’re sure you could come from just this. He suddenly stopped and pulled back, you looked down at his cock now gleaming, covered in your fluids. He lay back against the seat and put his hands on your hips. “Now it’s up to you,” he lifted your hips and positioned you so your cunt was hovering over him. “Take your time, if you don’t think you can do it, let me know.” You felt embarrassment rush through you. Did he know?

“Thank you.” You said meekly.

“I’m not trying to embarrass you,” he said softly. His hand came up and caressed your cheek. “I just don’t want to hurt you.” The kindness in his eyes made your heart flutter. You nodded with new determination. You placed a hand on his chest to balance yourself as you reached down with your other one to position him in place. You thrust your hips against his tip and pushed it into your folds, watching as his jaw clenched from the feeling. You found your opening and slowly lowered yourself to allow him inside. You winced as the tip entered you and you pushed down as far as you could go. You looked down in disappointment as you realized he wasn’t even half way in. You moved your hips back and forth just on his tip and he moved his hands onto your hips digging his fingers into you. He hissed and closed his eyes from the feeling.

“Sorry.” You apologized.

He opened his eyes and furrowed his brows. “Don’t apologize. If that’s all you can do, I’ll take it.” He slowly thrust his hips and you moaned. You wished you could take him further. You bit your lip, you could do it. You reached down to lead his cock further into you and you braced yourself as you pushed him in deeper. You whimpered as you felt him stretch you out and after a little resistance he slid right in with a plop. He pulled you closer and bucked his hips slightly as he felt you wrapped around him. Pulsing from the new feeling. You winced as he moved. He was so big. You looked up at him and his face was pure bliss. His mouth was slightly open and his eyes closed, brows furrowed. “Shit,” he muttered. “You’re so tight around me.” He looked up at you. “Is this your first-“ you cut him off with a kiss. You winced at the sensation of him inside of you but suddenly moaned as he pushed up and you felt him reach a spot deep inside of you. You gasped as he thrust and hit it again.

“There, right there, please.” You said desperately. He smiled and began thrusting his hips upwards satisfied every time he saw your face scrunch when he hit that spot. His hands moved back to your ass and he spread your cheeks out allowing himself to go just a little bit deeper. You let out a yelp as he now directly hit that spot inside of you.

“Good girl, you’re taking me so well”. He said. You smiled lazily and kissed him. He slowed his pace a bit as he moved his hand down to rub your clit again. He had seen how much you had liked it and wanted you to finish soon. The feeling of you clamping down on him was going to make him cum soon, too. You let out a heavenly moan as he started to rub you.

Your hips moved down on their own as you rode him. “Nanami! Fuck!” You whined as you bounced over him. You pulled him closer to you to make out and he began to move his hips in opposition to yours. You gasped as you felt him reach deep inside of you, and you wanted more, you felt your climax building up as you desperately pushed against him. Wanting to keep him deeper. He understood and thrust sharply and rubbed your clit harder. Loud moans of his name and ungodly noises left your lips as you felt it all become too much and you suddenly felt your whole body shake vigorously as you came. You felt tears come to your eyes.

You had never felt this good, you felt radiant, like a blinding fire took your body and left you refreshed. You shook over him a couple of times, enjoying the feeling of your cunt pulsing on him. He had stopped moving, still buried deep inside of you so you could ride out your high. Your eyes fluttered as you looked up at him and you smiled, happier than you’d ever been. He planted a kiss on your lips.

“You’re beautiful.” He said. You felt heat weld up in your stomach, he wiped your tears away softly.

You looked down at him and furrowed your brows. “You didn’t come.” You lifted your hips slightly and winced. “Keep going.” You blushed as you saw the white ring that had formed at the base of his cock. The opening of his pants was also covered in your slick.

He nodded and put a hand over your waist, quickly flipping you over and laying you down across the back seats. You were now under him and watched as he backed up, pulling his pants further down. You watched him through the V frame of your legs. Your cunt was sore and you felt like you looked a mess but when he looked back up at you, all your insecurities vanished. He took the sight of you in and you saw his dick twitch with anticipation. He came closer and while you expected him to just go in you gasped as his face went between your thighs and his lips latched onto your clit. You let out a moan. It was too much, you were still so sensitive. You grabbed his head and ran your fingers through his blonde locks. He looked up at you as he ran a stiff tongue against your folds and you shuddered. He smirked and went to town.

He threw your legs over his shoulders and devoured you. Your toes curled and you had to stop yourself from closing your thighs, afraid to crush him. You suddenly felt his fingers curl deep inside you as his tongue played with your bud and you yelled out, your climax hitting again. You held his head against you as you rode out your high; thrusting your hips forward, and rubbing your cunt over his entire face, his nose in particular hitting your clit and making you shudder. You let your head fall back and looked up at him. He smiled at you before backing up and lining himself up to your entrance. “Are you still okay?”

You nodded, exhausted but ready for more. This had to be a dream. “Whatever you want.” You repeated back to him with a smile.

“Good girl.” He pushed himself easily into you and you watched his face form a scowl as he went past your tightest part. You clenched down on him and he opened an eye and smirked at you. “Tell me if it gets to be too much.” You couldn’t even answer him before he was thrusting into you quickly, his hands on your hips holding you down and pulling you against him. He was desperate to fuck you. His hips bucked wildly against you, going in and out at a sickening pace. You could only stare at him in bliss, your mouth open and deep moans escaping everytime he moved. He grunted and pulled you closer, feeling himself coming to his limit. “You’re so good. You’re taking me so well, Princess. Fuck.” He muttered.

“Nanami-” you moaned his name as you felt another high wash over you. You yelped and shut your eyes, arching your back with a cry. You wrapped your legs around him, locking him in place as you felt him growing more desperate with each thrust. You hummed as you noticed him looking at you, once again looking like he was looking for a sign. You smiled, exhausted and nodded. That’s all he needed.

He grunted again and thrust his hips into you one last time, roughly, as he came. You felt him shooting hot ropes of cum inside of you and you brought his head down to kiss him. He smiled against your lips. You felt his cock pulsing inside of you and your eyes closed sleepily.

“Thank you, y/n.”

You nodded as you felt exhaustion come over you. “You can go again if you want.” You said barely keeping your eyes open.

“What?”

“You made me come three times just now. I think I owe you two more rounds.” He smiled and shook his head.

“Rest, I’ll clean you up.” You furrowed your brows and frowned. “Do you trust me?”

“Yes, but,” your eyes closed again. “It’s not fair. Go again, I don’t mind. I’ve been dreaming about this for so long I-“ you fell asleep.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

pt. 2 pt 3. pt 4. pt 5. pt. 6

˚₊✩‧₊nana here: if you made it this far bless you. if you saw a typo...no you didn't. idk if i'll ever post pt 2...i guess it depends on how this does or if a certain someone somehow convinces me to post the next part—shout out to cath my biggest supporter<3

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