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a-french-coconut · 16 hours

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Drew Tanaka (Part 4)

"Welcome to Cabin 10 McLean, hope you enjoy your stay." Drew says sarcastically when she leads her siblings back after the campfire.

It's funny to see Piper's face when she discovers the pink walls, pink curtains and the various celebrities' posters decorating the room.

"To your liking I presume ?", she asks her, smiling.

Her sister's face hardens, looking at her coldly, "Yes, thank you Drew."

"Don't mention it hun, we're sisters."

Piper scoffs and goes lock herself in the bathroom.

Ah, her smile grows.

Any moment now, she's going to-

"Why isn't this coming off ?" Piper barges out, gesturing wildly at her makeup .

"Mom's blessing lasts minimum a week", Lacy pipes in weakly, "but don't worry, it looks great on you !".

At their little sister's compliment, even dumpster girl cannot say something mean. She mutters a thank you then get ready to sleep.

"Ah, ah, ah," Drew interjects, "you've got some rules to learn before getting some beauty sleep."

"What rules ?" Piper snaps.

She knows it isn't right to get on the girl's nerves purely out of spite but despite what the others say, Drew is human and flawed. Emotionally obviously, certainly not physically.

"I'm the counsellor honey, which means that you listen to me. If you don't, you'll have to wear the shoes of shame for a week and trust me, you don't want that."

"Is that all ?" Piper interrupts her mockingly.

"No darling, it's not. There's another rule, a tradition if you will, to prove yourself worthy of Aphrodite. You have to accomplish the Rite of Passage."

"What's that ?"

"It's simple, choose a camper, make them fall in love with you and then break their little heart. See ? Easy."

"Are you crazy ?", her sister asks bewildered, "I'm not doing that."

"You will do it because I'm not asking, I'm ordering you."

Predictably, Piper isn't affected by charmspeak, which sucks in Drew's book.

"You are a horrible person Drew," Piper says with disbelief, then look at Mitchell and Lacy, "don't let her control you ! She doesn't have that right !"

They fidget uncomfortably, pointedly looking anywhere else then the two sisters.

"I do, actually. I'm responsible for them and their security. The Rite of Passage is a reminder to Camp to not mess with us, to not forget the power love holds."

"That's a ridiculous way of thinking ! You don't have to break hearts for them to respect you. Silena-"

It's more a reflex than a true action for Drew's part.

She didn't have in her plans to punch Piper's jaw, effectively shutting her up before she can utter another word.

Lacy and Mitchell gasp, looking at Piper like they want to help her.

"Listen to me McLean", Drew hisses from when she stands, looking at Piper on the floor, "you don't know a single thing about Silena Beauregard, understood ?"

Piper gets up from the floor and swings furiously at Drew. She sidesteps then slams Piper against the wall.

"Understood ?", she presses the girl harder, twisting lightly her arm.

"Fine, fine, I understand !"

She lets her go and turn around to face Lacy and Mitchell.

"Now, everybody to sleep. You, Piper, take this bed right there, it's free. Try to have a good sleep, you'll need it for the quest."

She doesn't answer her, making a beeline for the bed and covers herself with the blanket.

Drew sighs, she really didn't mean to hit her.

She is mean, not cruel or violent. At least not against the campers and especially not against her siblings.

But the audacity to mention Silena like she knew her ! Like she had any idea what Silena Beauregard was like.

She got charmspeak and refuses to do the Rite

Could she be Silena's reincarnation ?

No idiot, she insults herself, Silena died a year ago and Piper is fifteen.

She's a just a girl thinking she's better than them, nothing more.

It doesn't stop her from dreaming of Silena again, just when she had stopped a week before. This time, Silena morphs into Piper, screaming in her ears "I'm back ! Did you miss me darling ?" and then laughing, a harmonious sound Drew hates more than anything.

When she wakes up in the morning, she feels her heart pumping too fast, her airway constricting. Her eyes get watery and she will not cry in front of her siblings. She prohibits it.

Unfortunately, she's the last one to wake up and Mitchell is already in the bathroom.

She can feel Piper and Lacy looking at her curiously, her hands gripping the handle of the bathroom's door tightly, like she is going to rip it out.

"Mitchell ! Get out of there now !"

First tears drop.

Mitchell opens the door, hair wet and dressed in a towel, eyes shadowed by a heavy pink shimmer.

She pushes him out the way and locks herself in the bathroom.

Quickly, she turns on the shower, the water dropping at high pressure covering her muffled cries.

She'll have to apologise to Mitchell but right now, she is more occupied with preventing a full mental breakdown.

Piper isn't Silena.

She repeats the mantra over and over until it sounds like the truth.

Piper isn't Silena, she's her own insufferable person with her own melodious laugh.

To maintain appearance, she takes a quick shower, applies her makeup flawlessly and leaves the bathroom.

"Hurry up everybody ! We've got a schedule to respect and an amazing breakfast to eat !" , she orders at Mitchell and Lacy when she sees Piper is still there.

"Why are you still here McLean ? Don't you have a quest to be on ?"

"Didn't you pay attention last night ? We don't have any means of transport until Leo finds us one."

Oh, maybe she missed that info.

"If you say so dumpster girl, now come on to breakfast. It's the perfect time to see whose heart you want to break."

She ignores Piper's answer and leads them to the Pavillon.

"Look at him, isn't he worth your time ?"

"No"

"What about her then ?"

"Still no. And I'm not lesbian."

"Mmmh, if you say so... ooooh what about him ?"

"Oh my god-"

"Gods, darling."

"-Drew, how can you be so happy to break someone's heart ? What is wrong with you ?"

Piper's outburst radically brings down Drew's mood, returning her attention to her half finished plate.

Because it reminded me about how I used to gossip with Silena.

"Because, for the last time, the Rite of Passage is an exciting thing !"

"It's a sick thing ! No wonder Silena didn't do it."

"Piper, " Drew forces a strained smile, "stop talking about Silena like you fucking knew her."

"I-"

"Stop."

She puts all her willpower in that single word and miraculously, her sister keeps her mouth shut until the end of breakfast.

"Here how it works, " she explains to her once they that are at the archery field, "our day is divided in multiple activities and we're usually pair with another cabin. For example, we have now archery with Hermes Cabin. Obviously, we have free times, one hour after dinner and two hours in the afternoon. You can still use it to train if you want, a lot of-"

"It's fine Drew, I got it," Piper cuts her, "I've at summer camps before." and then leaves her to join Lacy and Mitchell.

"I have the feeling you kinda deserved that one."

"You are supposed to be on my side, Connor."

"And I am ! But we both you can be a bitch."

"Get moving."

"Why ?"

"You're my target for today Stoll."

"Like you can touch me, your aim is shit."

Drew laughs and draws her bow, sending Connor running to take cover behind Chris and Travis.

"Get back here Connor !", she screams, smiling at her friend whose two brothers just abandoned to her mercy.

"No, I choose to live ! Travis and Chris you two are going to regret this !"

"Why don't you ask Malcolm to help you ?" she teases him, carefully aiming at him, "I'm sure he'll gladly take the arrow for you."

Connor goes red but with the shameless attitude of a son of Hermes, screams Malcolm's name.

"Mal ! Come be my knight in shining armour and I will reward you with a kiss !"

She rolls her eyes at his antics, releasing the arrow. He has the arrogance to catch it mid air, winking at her.

"Hermes' speed darling, can't beat that."

An arrow hits him in the shoulder, making him curse and sending Drew to the ground laughing.

"Will ! You son of a-"

"Language !", warns Travis, who seems unconcerned by his brother's injuries.

"Yes Connor," taunts Will who just reached them, quiver strapped to his hip, "there are children here."

"I can't believe you shot me !", he dramatically falls on the floor next to Drew, clutching his heart, "I will never recover from this."

When she thought it couldn't get any better, Malcolm arrives panting.

"By Athena, what happened Connor ?"

"Isn't it obvious Mal ?", the son of Hermes smiles, "I fell for you !"

Malcolm facepalms, to hide his growing blush Drew is sure, and Will openly laughs at Connor's terrible flirt.

There, on the ground with her three best friends, Drew forgets about Silena and Piper and laughs with them, her laugh a melodious sound she loves.

Drew, I figured you deserved some joy 🥳

#percy jackon and the olympians #pjo #percy jackson #heroes of olympus #will solace #connor stoll #travis stoll #drew tanaka #silena beauregard #piper mclean #aphrodite cabin #cabin 10 #camp half blood #malcolm pace #malconnor

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skrunksthatwunk · 5 months

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aurghhh ok still rewatching '97 and the way guts and casca only have the room to breathe and really come to understand and care for each other in griffith's absence because he has such a strong hold over them both.... and the way their mutual dedication to him is what causes them to bicker for years (casca thinks he's not serving him well enough, guts thinks she doesn't get that he cares/how much he cares, casca's jealousy over griffith's feelings for guts, how he won his heart without even trying or being aware of it or doing anything with it) and is also a big part of what brings them together (earlier when guts deviates from the plan to save griffith and she commends him, in the cave casca opening up about griffith and her's past, showing that vulnerability, while it's mostly confrontational, leads to guts kinda getting her better, and his efforts to save and protect her (falling off the cliff with her, taking on the 100 men so she can escape, encouraging her to return to griffith so she can help him because it's what she feels she's meant to do (her dream, the direction in life guts shares and yet is questioning because of griffith's speech at the fountain, whether or not it's enough to serve him if it means he'll never be a true friend in griffith's eyes because he's not an equal), supporting the idea of her being with griffith/being his most important person like he won't because he doesn't view it as a competition like she has been since day one) leading to her realizing that he's kind of not that bad a guy and they have a lot more in common that she thought. and how the bonfire of dreams conversation is guts opening up to her in kind, the answer to her talking about how griffith saved her, how she feels. how neither of them ever call it love but it's something they know they both have for griffith. how it's something they're beginning to have for each other, different in ways they couldn't put a word to. because they're equals this time. the way griffith kind of becomes less and less important as they find other reasons to live and fight, as they become less singularly obsessed with him. how griffith is unable to stand it, guts' personhood, that agency and peer-to-peer equality he claimed to want (and perhaps truly did) that disappeared guts from his life, his plans, his side. how it barely even matters to griffith how casca changes because he never wanted her like she wanted him. god i can't fucking stand their shakespearean nonsense drama (<- hopelessly in love with their interpersonal dynamics)

#god they're the only healthy part of this unholy mind-palace love triangle/throuple aren't they #they could have been the worst qpr/throuple in your social circle. like just insufferable when they're not getting along #if griffith hadn't [oh god oh fuck oh jesus christ] all over everything even remotely good in his life anyway #poor casca's in love with a gay man and then falls for his not-quite-boyfriend and when not-quite-boyfriend reciprocates said gay man fucki #g. Does The Eclipse Stuff. at least partially to get back at you two. oh my godd #i'm sorry i'm so not normal about them. it's starting to leak out into the blog bc i'm finally having a Berserk Moment since starting tumbl #but whewwwww. gotta get this outta my system #hope this wall of text makes sense oops <3 #berserk #berserk 1997 #how do i even tag their thang. their disastrous just horrible agonizing 3 guy dynamic. hm.#gutsca #griffguts #don't even know if anyone tags for griffith and casca. fair because 1) he raped her. yikes 2) he just straight up isn't into her #and i don't know if there's a tag for the three of them but trial and error led to nothing #but i wanna talk about their dynamic. their. (gestures wildly) whatever. it's not about thinking griffith should kiss anyone it's about lik #the agony. the pining and the torment and whatever miura so beautifully crafted for me specifically. sheesh #hope it's clear that i Don't Want Them To Be An Uwu Little Polycule Bc Casca Should Not Be In A Cutesy Throuple With Her Rapist #it's more that i think they kind of are or almost are part of this (gestures wildly again). Thing. with each other and i wanna talk about i #same with griffguts like oh man they should NOT be in a relationship. but i have this deep intense Need to study them and frankly they're #kind of crazy about each other for a while. like they care about each other so so much it's crucial to all three of their characters.#so it's kind of unavoidable. and i wanna talk about it. and have this read by people who also want to talk about it. yeah? yeah.#(and yeah i think griffith raping casca was about her and guts. like 'fuck you for making him okay with leaving me' type of vibe. even #though it wasn't her fault he's just. god. but it sure as hell isn't Mostly about casca because griffith's making eye contact like the Whol #time with guts. he makes him watch. it's just. shooooooooooo aughhhhghhghh fucking. jesus christ. that or it's the fear that his two most #important pawns are going to leave him Together and he just. can't deal with that. especially after the torture internment thing.#he's so weak and he was so close to his dream and now it's falling apart and they're leaving him and he can't even move. it's about making #damn sure they can't escape him or forget him ever again.#or maybe it's even a 'you can't have her she's mine' to guts but it's still largely like. spiteful/about possessing her as a soldier/human #because i don't think you could convince me it's about having her as a lover or about controlling/hurting/possessing her body.)

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ninja-knox-ur-sox-off · 2 years

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Been wondering about Macaque in the burnt marshmallow au. Like did he see Wukong pre-super glamour? Or would he roll up, ready for a brawl, only to find this charred-ass gremlin? Nothing throws your battle game off quite as hard as the whiplash of learning the 'invulnerable' Monkey King isn't so invulnerable.

WELL FUNNY STORY ACTUALLYGBKAMWOE I haven't really thought about Macaque and Wukong's dynamic outside of interacting with friends AU's n stuff so I'm not sure what'd be like in this AU or how Macaque would react bKMASODFA

I have been wanting to give a shot at like, making a design for Macaque but honestly he just isn't as big of a character in my head as of right now aside from analyzing and making fun of him gbfdskfmowe

Anyway, regardless of dynamic, if he saw beforehand, I don't think he would really remember or care about swk's appearance

and if he saw it out of nowhere on a day he rolled up to fistfight the Monkey King, I'd say... surprised? Ur right about his battle game being thrown just a little, but after the initial whiplash he'd probably just go on as usual with the addition of making fun of his new appearance and stuff "Aww, did you get a haircut?"

If it was like, after a bit of redemption or whatever, he'd probably slow down a bit, extending the surprised period cause he ain't in a rush to fistfight, but like, again, right into insults and making fun of him for it because bruh that's a whole new arsenal to get under his skin and annoy him, especially if he was hiding it, and you bet Macaque's gonna tackle the heck out of that--GW;ELKFMAEW

I think the harshness of the insults would depend on where they were at in their redemption arc too. ranging from the haircut thing to full out "how's ur student feel about his oh so perfect mentor looking more like a monster than the actual demons?" and stuff like that.

anyway tho, since haven't figured out when this takes place in canon or what the backstory and dynamic is, its hard to say ghdjfjkl;asdfasjdf

One of these days I'll give Macaque's character more attention, but apparently today is still not that day bGKAWMEOF

Bonus:

the "charred-gremlin" bit of ur ask gave me an idea so you get a probably non-canon doodle

#knox rambles #Monkie Kid #LEGO Monkie Kid #Six Eared Macaque #Sun Wukong | Monkey King #Burnt Marshmallow!Monkey King AU #love macaque's character #i just need to like #give him a little arc of development in my head before i can do anything with him and i haven't done that yet #gestures at wukong wildly #THERE'S AN ENTIRE TRUAMA BALL OF A MONKEY RIGHT THERE I'M DEALING WITH I DON'T GOT TIME FOR THE EMO ONE /J /LH BGS;DLKJFMA;WOED #thinking now tho #about like #Monkey King doesn't seem to care that Macaque's there unless he's being annoying or trying to get buddy buddy with Mk #and maybe that's part of the reason mac goes straight to annoying him or trying to get under his skin because it's the one way swk will #acknowledge him #KNOX ART (me)#OH NOW MY BRAIN'S TRYING TO ANALYZE THE WHOLE 'WORST QUALITIES OF SWK' THING #cause hey unless it's therapy don't people tend to ignore their bad qualities unless they become a real problem to them or the people #around them?#EXCUSE ME WHILE I GO THINK ABOUT THAT FAREWELL #asks #anon #it's been so long since i've made a post i'm starting to forget how to tag bGKAWMOFE #WELP

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apollos-boyfriend · 11 months

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so my younger cousin is flying in to visit from brazil on sunday, and will be staying here for like, the entirety of july. which, don't get me wrong, is super cool! i love the kid! but it felt like a super weird move, considering his parents are the SUPER strict and borderline helicopter parents. even the smallest prank/roughousing with him/his little sister would lead to a strict talking to from his parents, he couldn't ever do anything without their clear permission, that sort of stuff. so letting him fly at alone at 16 to a whole different country and stay there for a whole month seemed WILDLY out of character. additionally, it just felt like a super last-minute trip. it's not like we have any plans to do when he gets here, and the flight itself and stuff only got booked like, midway through june.

and i was talking to my mom about it, kind of trying to nudge some answers out of her, and after a while she went, "yeah, i think they're sending him over here to get away for his boyfriend. see if the distance breaks them off." which, first of all, surprised me because last i checked, they didn't KNOW he had a boyfriend. literally everyone in the family did EXCEPT for them because while that entire side of the family being semi-conservative, his parents (mostly his dad) are EXTREMELY old-fashioned. so clearly something already went wrong. and considering the only reason the rest of the family knew is because one person found out and it spread like wildfire, i have a sneaking suspicion he wasn't the one to tell them, either.

and second of all. they're sending him HERE. to try to make him forget his homosexuality. i couldn't do anything but just wordlessly gesture to the multiple pride flags scattered around my room, then to myself, because really? he has like two other cousins in the us and they're sending him to me? honey i am about to introduce this kid to queer scenes you have never even heard of. he'll be returning home with labels only shrimp can perceive

#icarus speaks #i fully believe she's correct btw #they are. not the brightest people. and honestly probably believe this is something that could work #cause i can see the logic of get him away and hopefully he'll realize it's a phase. which is Likely what they think #but oh honey you have a big storm coming #side note this is the SECOND time someone's been outed without permission on that side of the family 😭#bitches learned of my transgenderism SO quickly #also even if that's NOT why they sent him here. i will still be rocking his world #they have given me Infinite Power and i will use it to make this kid's life as queer as physically possible

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puranami · 6 months

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✿ Omelette ✿

A/N: A little fic based on one of the prompts I have~

Summary: Sanji finds you cooking an omelette in your underwear at an ungodly hour.

Content: Warning - my really bad attempt at writing anything outside of lil paragraph points (blz help, I have no idea what I'm doing)

Despite the scenario - it's all SFW and fluffy like dem eggs! A light dusting of pining, G/N reader. ✿

(Part 2) - (Part 3)

You had tried to sleep and ignore the rumbling in your stomach, but the harder you tried, the more you felt it, and you had finally reached your limit. If you were to be at all functional tomorrow, you needed to eat something. Only then could you try to sleep again.

Exhausted, you drag yourself from the safety and warmth of your blankets, slowly ambling towards the ship's kitchen, single-minded in your endeavour. All that mattered was appeasing your stomach, leaving you completely unaware of the sudden cold that embraced you once you had left the confines of your quarters.

Flicking on the kitchen light, you quickly gathered everything you needed, deciding that the best thing to make would be an omelette. It's an easy dish, filling, and doesn't take long to make. In other words; it was perfect!

You make quick work of prepping the eggs, seasoning to taste, even considering throwing a little cheese in there before deciding against it. It's not like you believed the myth of cheese giving people nightmares if eaten before bed, but you were so desperate to be able to sleep afterwards that you didn't want to risk it. Stranger things have happened on this ship.

The pan hisses as you pour in the eggs, sounding much louder in the empty kitchen, only amplified by the late hour.

"Don't you sass me," you grumble, "The middle of the night is a perfectly acceptable time for an omelette!"

Unbeknownst to you, you weren't the only one awake on the ship, and your late night excursion had attracted attention, clearly not having noticed any of the noise you were making.

"I thought Luffy had snuck in on a midnight raid with all the clattering," a groggy voice behind you laughs, but you are too tired and focused on cooking to even register that you had been joined by anyone. Sanji leans against the table opposite the kitchen island, fidgeting with the hem of his nightshirt, waiting for an answer that never came.

Surely you heard him, right?

"Is everything alright, darling?"

Nothing.

Terms of endearment usually prompted some kind of response, be it a dismissive laugh or an equally fond term of your own, clearly thinking they meant nothing in particular. He'd accepted pretty quickly that they wouldn't be the way to win you over, but it certainly didn't stop him using them, at least on you. The same couldn't be said about everyone else, as he was no longer vying for the affection of anyone but yourself. Sanji wondered if you'd ever noticed that.

A clumsy flip of the omelette brought him back into the moment, honestly surprised that you hadn't dropped it on the floor.

He moved his way to your side of the kitchen, round the central island toward the stovetop.

"Why are you cooking at this hhhh-" he wheezed at the end, only now seeing that you weren't in the pyjama bottoms he'd assumed you'd be wearing, but in your underwear.

He clasped one of his hands over his mouth, the other grabbing the island for support as he felt his legs begin to fail him. Keeping his eyes fixed firmly on the floor, he blurts out, "W-WHERE ARE YOUR PANTS?" as his face went fully crimson.

That finally gets your attention, but you are slow on the uptake, mind completely glazing over the fact that you had at some point gained an observer. Finally, furrowing your brows a little, you murmured a soft "What?" You knew a question was asked, but nothing else beyond that.

"Your pants, darling!" he gestures wildly, continuing to look down, knowing if that he caught sight of your bare legs again, he would lose his mind.

You stand there, pan hovering in the air away from the stove in one hand, a plate in the other, looking absolutely lost; you had completed your mission of acquiring omelette, and so your brain had decided it was no longer needed. Looking down, you see your legs and feet, wiggling your toes a little, then you look back up at the mess of a man in front of you, things finally starting to fall into place in your overtired mind.

"Oh, Sanji, what are you doing here," you ask, sweet as anything, completely ignorant to the battle he was waging internally. Once you plate your omelette, you place it on the island before putting the pan back on the stove to cool and grabbing a fork to tuck in, oblivious to Sanji frantically unbuttoning his night shirt beside you. He refuses to look directly at you until he has covered you with it, cheeks noticeably burning with how flustered he is.

"Darling, you can't do that to me," he says, almost breathless, "I am a weak, weak man; I can't handle seeing you so bare!" He manipulates your arms into the sleeves of his nightshirt, ignoring your protests when he briefly pulls the fork out of your hand in the process, before buttoning you up, doing his best to preserve your dignity.

As you feel the warm sustenance finally begin to settle in your empty stomach, you feel your brain booting back up, at least a little bit.

"Ah, shit I forgot to put on pants..." You giggle, wondering why everything was always funnier when you were tired. Taking another bite of food, you look down at your legs once again, starting to fully comprehend the situation you found yourself in. "I guess I was just too hungry." He can't help but sigh at how nonchalant you are.

Looking back up, your brain once again decides to abandon you, not from how tired you are this time, but from your eyes being met with his bare chest and abs, causing your own face to turn a charming shade of red. Sanji was always so neatly dressed, so he most you ever saw was his forearms when he rolled up his sleeves to work. It made sense that he was in good shape given his fighting ability, but it never really hit you until you saw his body tonight. There wasn't really any way to get accustomed to it, not like there was with someone like Zoro, who had his shirt off at least half the times you saw him, flashing his man tits whenever and wherever he damn well pleased.

Sanji's eyes never left you during this quiet minute, one that felt like hours, and he couldn't help but feel a hint of pride when he watched your eyes dance over his shirtless body, clearly flustered, bringing a confident smile to his face.

"Everything alright down there, sweetheart," he laughed softly.

You were clearly lost in your thoughts, it finally clicking why he was shirtless; he'd put his shirt on you. You brought a long sleeve up to your face as you dragged your eyes away, looking awkwardly to the side to your recently emptied plate. The shirt smelt like him, only without the lingering scent of cigarette smoke. It was sweet and musky. Maybe it was the lack of sleep, but you felt a wave of feelings crash into you. Feelings you knew were there but had simply brushed aside, assuming they were just a result of his natural charm more than anything. But, you couldn't so easily disregard them now.

Sanji followed your gaze. "Ah, don't you worry about that, my dear," he says, grabbing the plate and bringing it to the sink, leaving you standing in a bit of a daze. "I'll take care of things here, so you go and get yourself back to bed, alright?"

"Oh, no!" You couldn't help how loud that ended up being, surprising the both of you. "You shouldn't have to clean up my mess," you say with a more regulated volume. If there's one way to get you back in the present, it's offering to do something you feel solely responsible for.

"In all fairness, darling, you shouldn't have been cooking in my kitchen in a state of undress," his cheeks started to go pink at the recent memory. He clears his throat before continuing, "Do you know how dangerous that is?" Ah, the professional chef just can't help himself when it comes to kitchen rules.

You pout slightly as you lean back against the centre island.

"Sorry, Sanji. I wasn't really with it. Too tired, too hungry..."

He makes quick work of the dirty items you had used, all while prattling on about safety and other things you probably should have listened to. Drying his hands, he makes his way back to you. It is evident you hadn't really been paying attention.

"At least promise me this," you look up at his warm, smiling face, "if you ever find yourself in this predicament again, please come and get me."

He brushes back some loose strands of hair, tucking them neatly behind your ear.

"You know that I'm always happy to cook for you, right? Whatever you want, whenever you want it."

Returning a gentle smile of your own, you nod.

"I promise."

With that, Sanji leads you out of the kitchen, plunging it back into darkness as he flicks the light off.

You reach his quarters first since he's closest to the kitchen. He pauses outside his door, hesitating for a moment. There are so many things he wanted to say to you, yet he couldn't bring himself to utter a single word.

Oblivious, you carry on toward your own room, turning back to him to wish him a good night, nearly falling over your own feet in the process, to which he smiles, letting out a soft chuckle.

"Bonne nuit, ma chère."

Guys, gals, and non-binary pals; I tried my best! This is my very first full fic ever, so if the grammar, wording, presentation, literally anything is bad; it's bc I am completely winging it! ∠( ᐛ 」∠)＿

#one piece imagine #one piece x reader #one piece x you #sanji x reader #sanji x you

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mistydeyes · 8 months

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Hi! I was wondering if you could do a Task Force 141 and a reader that they never have seen out of uniform until one day they all go to a bar but the reader is late? Next thing they know the reader walks up to them dressed like they just walked straight out of the 2000’s?

(if you end up doing this request: thank you so much! I absolutely luv your writing!!)

thank you so much for requesting! i literally am in love with 2000's fashion like you'll be seeing me walking with low-cut jeans and a baby tee fr

┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊ ⋆ ┊ . ┊ ┊┊

summary: After a tiring mission, the 141 invites you to drink away the night at the pub. However, you get into a lively argument about fashion when they question your choice in 2000's inspired attire.

pairings: taskforce 141 x platonic!gn!reader (codename: Storm)

warnings: swearing, slight bullying (they fr just don't understand fashion)

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"Didn't we tell Storm half-past eight?" Gaz asked, looking down at his watch. The pub was nearly empty as the men continued to add glass after glass to a growing pile. Despite reminding you with a string of texts, you still haven't made an appearance. "Still don't get why they had to change," Soap continued, choking down another drink, "Lt's still wearing his goddamn mask." The group laughed as their attention was directed to Ghost, still wearing his signature face mask. "They probably wanted a shower and some fresh trousers," Price commented and the rest of the group returned to a more interesting conversation.

As the group laughed at Soap recounting Ghost's out-of-character dialogue in Las Almas, their gaze fell on the pub's door as it swung open. The group smiled at the familiar face and gestured you over. You walked to the table quickly, feeling the attention in the empty pub. At first, you thought it was due to your late entrance but when you approached, you saw all eyes focused on your attire. It was like you walked out of the 2000s or robbed a Delias before your arrival. You felt a little self-conscious at the confused looks and wondered what all the fuzz was about. "What? Do I have a stain?" you questioned as you dusted off your low-cut, denim jeans. "No, it's just-" Gaz began to say but Soap interjected. "Why do you dress like that?" he asked and you raised an eyebrow. You looked down at your jeans and Von Dutch top. "But I normally dress like this?" you said with a curious tone. You dressed like this before joining the military and held on to the lively aesthetic of the early 2000s. You were embarrassed to admit but Britney Spears and *NSYNC were your fashion icons.

"Yeah," Ghost spoke up as he eyed the interesting font of your shirt, "you look like you could be an extra in a Spice Girls video." You rolled your eyes, grabbing at one of the half-drunk glasses on the table. "You've been quiet, Captain," you edged while looking at him, "what do you think?" There was a hush over the room as you waited in anticipation. "Clothes are clothes," he simply replied and the table roared with laughter. "Such a grandad thing to say," Soap loudly exclaimed and everyone clambered with sentiments of agreement. "Sorry I don't wear Wrangler jeans and black fitness tops," you mumbled. It was a subtle jab at your colleagues but Gaz took it to heart. "I have style!" he shouted as you shook your head in disapproval.

"Gaz, you look like someone trying to emulate an Instagram model or some teenager's Pinterest board," you argued and you were met by the howling of the tipsy men. "And Captain, I'm sorry but you look like a father going on holiday to the Swiss Alps," you directed towards Price as everyone realized this was becoming an insult fueled rage. Soap was still laughing wildly, shaking his head in agreement with your every word. "Oh you shouldn't be laughing, Soap," you said as you turned to him, "a navy blue sweater and black jeans are a fashion crime." He quickly turned red and looked embarrassed as he examined the mismatched colors. Everyone held their breath as you turned to Ghost. "And Lt," you paused, thinking of what you should say next, "you dress like you've never heard of color."

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sehnsuchts-trunken · 2 months

Text

Twenty-Five Going on Forty-Seven

dbf!jake seresin x fem!reader 12k words (.....yes. 12k. i-)

summary: Flirting with the guy who fixed your car turns out to lead to much, much more when you find out he's actually not just some random guy, but your new neighbour and father's new best friend, Jake Seresin.

a/n: porn with plot. a lot of plot. and a lot of porn. 18+ obviously. reader is twenty-five in this, jake is forty-seven. this is entirely based on my new fixation on dbf!jake. i have so many thots. so many that they led to a 12k oneshot lmfao. anyway, as always, a list of things to watch out for:

pet names used in an unholy way, safe sex (i fucking managed to finally give them a condom whooooohoooo), oral sex for the both of them (yes i also wrote a blowjob. this is unbelievable i know), dom!jake, some praise kink, a smidge of strength kink at the end. a lot of begging. as always. mention of shower sex. mostly vanilla. jake fucks in missionary because he wants to be nice for his first time with her. if there's ever a sequel i swear to god he will be the most unholy fucker ever

top gun masterlist | dbf!jake seresin masterlist

The first time Jake meets you isn't the first time he's supposed to meet you. He's supposed to come by for dinner that evening, to finally get to know the daughter your parents have told him so much about. And it's not his fault that he meets you seven hours earlier that day. Not really.

Because the pictures your parents had kept showing him were all old. Mostly childhood photographs, some from your graduation, but none recent enough to connect the dots.

So it's really not his fault that he doesn't recognise you when he sees you standing there on the side of the road, phone clamped between your ear and shoulder, the hood of your car all the way up. With how wildly you're gesturing, Jake guesses that you're not particularly close to fixing whatever problem you have.

You're wary when he pulls up behind you and opens his door. It's rarely a good sign when random men prey on very obviously helpless and distressed young women. But Jake doesn't even get closer at first, just stands there in the opened car door and asks if you need any help. For a little moment, you debate whether it's worth the risk. Then your father's voice rings out from your phone and you decide that there's not much this guy could do to you in broad daylight on a well used street with your father on the phone.

So you tell him the truth. Yes, you most definitely have a problem. The way he makes sure it's okay for him to come over and take a look calms you even more. He's considerate and careful and maybe you're actually lucky and he's just a guy who genuinely wants to help.

He steps out from the door and walks up to you and honestly, for a moment there you're startled. He has to be in his forties, but damn, he's attractive. Suddenly you're glad you picked your sundress over your sweatpants this morning.

You let him lean over your car and take a closer look.

"If he can't help, I'll just come pick you up and we'll call a tow truck", your father says after you've filled him in on what's happening. Honestly, you'd really rather not have to call a tow truck though, because that's just going to cost you a bunch of money again, which isn't particularly the way you want to spend it.

Also, this guy leaning over your car - and you're not even denying that you're very much eyeing him up - seems like he actually knows what he's doing there.

He takes a minute or two before he comes up again. He's smiling, which you take as a good sign. He opens his mouth and you hear what he's saying - but because you have no clue what it is that he's trying to tell you, you just nod along. You're not a mechanic, you don't know the goddamn terminology. Something something battery, something something fuel pump, whatever. You take the time to notice his accent instead.

The good news is he thinks he can fix whatever he's found, but you'll still have to get it checked out later on.

He walks back to his own car, rummages around and comes back with a toolbox and an unopened water bottle.

"It might take a while", he tells you as he offers you the bottle. "Feel free to turn on my radio."

You take the waterbottle and bite down on your lip to keep from grinning. He's sweet. Goddamn. Because you've deemed the whole thing safe, you tell your father goodbye and hang up - you honestly just want a bit of privacy to stare at this hunk of a man who's bending over the hood of your car again and offering you a very... good look at his backside.

It's summer. He's wearing a wife pleaser, which is reasonable in these temperatures, but the sight of his forearms working almost makes you feel like he knows what he's doing by wearing it. Does he have a wife to please, though? He's old enough to have kids - your age, maybe a few years younger. He's about as old as your dad. If he has a wife, maybe he's wearing it for her. Maybe she likes the way his biceps flexes just like you do.

You squint at his hands as you uncap the water bottle and take a sip. There's no ring as far as you can see. Would it be entirely unreasonable to assume he's... single?

It's been a minute, maybe, when you decide it's probably awkward for you to stand there and watch him, so you go with his suggestion and lean into his car, palms bracing against the seat to reach for the radio.

You turn it on, switch through a few channels until you find one you like and turn the volume up. Because it's probably just as awkward if you stay in his car - if not bordering on creepy - you step around the opened door and settle yourself against the hood. Your thighs stick to the warmed metal, but that's something you're willing to deal with.

Your eyes cling to him as he works. You don't know what the hell he's doing, you just hope he knows and you're not left with an even worse problem after. But he doesn't seem like that type of guy. And since he's seemingly unmarried... You don't stop yourself from staring.

Fuck, maybe he has a girlfriend, not everyone gets married at thirty. Not everyone wears their wedding ring either. But a girl can dream, right? And you're dreaming, for just a few minutes. You allow yourself to dream.

He looks so good. He looks so fucking good.

Sandy-blond hair, cut short, but not too short, broad, broad, broad shoulders... those arms, that back.

When he straightenes and looks at you, greasy fingers and a triumphant grin on his lips, you also have to admit that he's got chiseled fucking features. You swallow hard and do your best to pretend you haven't been ogling him.

"All done", he says. You raise your eyebrows.

"Really? That quickly?"

He grins and takes a step back, offering you to take a look yourself. You bite back a smile and push off the hood of his car - your hips are swaying as you walk, yeah, but as far as you're aware, he's single and just fixed your car for you, for free, in less than fifteen minutes.

Also, he's hot.

"Looks no different to me", you admit. He lets out a chuckle.

"Try it", he says, reaches for the hood and pulls it down as you slip into the driver's seat. You look up to him through the windshield before you turn the key in the ignition and-

The car starts.

The fucking car starts.

He's actually managed it.

You turn the key back and shake your head in disbelief. If he hadn't accidentally stumbled upon you, you'd probably have had to call the tow truck by now. Instead, you reach for the glove compartment and grab your purse.

"How-", you start as you climb out of the car seat again, shutting the door behind you. "How the hell?"

He chuckles.

"Actually, don't tell me", you interrupt yourself, throwing your hands up. "I don't even want to know. Here."

You reach into your purse and pull out disinfection wipes, offering them to him. He takes one with a smile and a drawled thanks and cleans off the grease on his hands before folding it up and letting it disappear into his pocket.

"So you're my knight in shining armour today", you say, biting down on your lip. Fuck it. You're gonna find out here and now whether or not he's single. "Otherwise I'm sure the tow truck would've cost me a hundred bucks - at least."

"Yeah, probably", he agrees, his eyes dropping to your mouth for just a second.

"Well, then", you smile, as coyly as you can manage. "How can I thank you?"

And just as you hoped, he stills, taking you in - maybe for the first time, you're not sure. His eyes rake down your body, your cleavage, your waist, your legs. His lips tug into a grin, but when he looks back up at you, he's serious.

"No worries", he tells you. "I'm not the tow truck."

He's not pushing you. Actually, he's doing the opposite, and you're not a fan. Maybe he isn't single after all. Maybe he does have a girlfriend. Or a wife. Or maybe he's not interested. Maybe... but you can give it a try, right? Just one try.

"I can't just drive off", you argue, blinking up at him a little more, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. Fuck, are you really doing this? Your breath catches for a moment. But then again, if he isn't single, you're just gonna get into your car and never see him again. So who cares? "How about I give you my number?"

Your heartbeat quickens as he looks at you and straightens up. He's still grinning. You can't quite figure him out.

"I'm forty-seven, darling", he chuckles. You try your hardest to ignore how that pet name sounds, all sweet and intimate and god, you'd do a lot to have him say it again.

"So?", you ask and raise an eyebrow. "Does that mean you don't have a phone?"

Jake shakes his head with a chuckle, but you keep looking up at him so seductively, keep smiling so flirtatiously that he can't help himself. You're wearing such a pretty dress, such a dainty necklace around your throat. And you're serious about this.

He's had younger women flirt with him, yes, but usually five, ten years younger at most - and even that's been a while, because he isn't going to bars every night anymore.

You're really young. You're too young. You're, what, twenty-six? You can't be much older.

But you're stunning. Gorgeous eyes, kissable lips, glossy and plush and for just a moment, Jake loses himself in the images his mind seems to produce immediately when he looks at you - has been, from the second he'd spotted you through his windshield.

He's old enough to know better. But he still reaches into his back pocket and pulls out his phone.

...

The first time Jake officially meets you is seven hours later when he knocks on your parents' door and takes a step back to wait for it to open.

"That's gotta be Jake, someone get the door!", your mother's voice calls out, and it takes a few seconds until he hears soft footsteps coming down the hallway.

Then the door cracks open.

And there stands-

You.

You're smiling widely for the entirety of two seconds. Then your face falls.

Jake feels like the rug is pulled out from under his feet. He tumbles deep down a dark, dark hole as he stares at your pretty eyes, all shocked and wide, mouth open.

"You", you let out, almost breathless.

"You", Jake echoes, in quite the same tone.

Within seconds, you're stepping out onto the porch, closing the door behind you and holding out your hand in front of you, as if to keep him a safe distance away.

You're quick, almost stumbling over your own words as you come to conclusions and try to grasp all their consequences. Jake has a hard time even listening to you. He's frozen in his spot, barely comprehending the entire situation.

The young woman that had so unashamedly flirted with him this morning - that he had most definitely flirted back with - is his neighbour's daughter. His friend's daughter.

So he's fucking frozen in spot, yes.

He's frozen even as you're ushering him into the house with a smile on your lips that's just a bit too wide. He's frozen as he sits down at the dinner table and frozen as your mother offers him a beer. He's frozen as he settles on the couch after and as your father turns on a football game. He's frozen as you scoff at the tv and disappear up the stairs.

Your father asks him what's wrong, but there's no way Jake can tell him.

Even without your lecture on the porch, there would've been no way he would have admitted that he's got your number saved in his phone, "Twenty-five" with a winky face emoji behind it.

So he says he hasn't been all that well - maybe getting the flu or something.

Which is bullshit. He doesn't get sick. He's been sick two, maybe three times in all his life.

But he does think he'll be sick when you take your last step down the stairs half an hour later, in pajamas that barely cover anything - satin or something, he's too focused not focusing on your bare skin to notice anything except your bare skin, really. You just traipse over to the kitchen on tiptoes, eyes glued to your phone, hushed voices reaching his ears when you talk to your mother before you reappear in the living room.

"I'm going to bed", you announce, phone clutched tightly in your hands. "It's been a long day."

Jake can't hear your father's answer. He can't hear the commentator or the cheers from the tv. He can't hear anything, not when you're standing there in the doorway, when he's concentrating so fucking hard on not looking at you.

He fails miserably.

His eyes rake down your body so scorchingly hot that they burn holes into your skin. You have to swallow hard at his expression.

You're not tired at all, actually. Yes, it's been a long day, but if anything, you're buzzing with adrenaline. Which is worse. Because the entire dinner long, you've just had to sit there and stare at him and not do anything about it.

So you're aching to finally hide away in your room, to crawl into bed and contemplate what the fuck is happening. And, just maybe, to dip your fingers into your pajama shorts and think about his shoulders, his arms, his jawline...

Jake manages to grunt some kind of 'goodnight' before you flee - but he doesn't manage to drag his eyes back up from your stomach, all exposed and on display for him. And he doesn't manage to hide it from you.

...

He sees you often over the following weeks. He's been over at your parents' house almost every day for the past six months anyway, and that doesn't change just because you've come back home. Your father still invites him for football games, your mother still talks him into coming over for lunch or for dinner or both and whenever they're outside tinkering on something, he's being called to help.

And - because of course, it's your house as well - you're there, too.

All around him, all the time.

At first, it's innocent. You walk into the kitchen to get a glass of water and smile and say hello. You sit on the couch on a call with a friend and wave at him through the window. You come back from a walk with the dog and ask how he's doing before you disappear inside.

But then there come moments... Moments in which you lie down on a sun lounger in a skimpy bikini while he's painting the fence with your father, sunglasses high on your nose, a book in your hands, rubbing sunscreen into your skin and biting your lip when he can't help but look at you. Moments in which you brush up against him in the kitchen with a giggled 'Sorry', your mother's back turned to you as she grabs milk from the fridge, his fists clenching at his sides, his coffee cup held decently in front of his crotch. Moments in which you sit next to him on the couch and have to lean over him with a lengthy apology, your father just disappearing into the bathroom, your palm high enough on his thigh to stagger into the inappropriate.

The only time he's safe is at work. And even then, you're on his mind constantly.

Those pretty dresses you wear all the time, low-cut in the front and so short they hardly reach past your mid-thighs, in all colours of the rainbow. Those skimpy tops with the flowers on them and jeans-shorts or skirts he's more than once noticed are actually skorts.

He shouldn't be attracted to you. It's so wrong on so many levels. You're too young, much too young, twenty-two years younger than him. And - worse - he's best friends with your father.

He can't be attracted to his best friend's daughter. He simply can't.

It's wrong. It's so, so wrong.

But he can't help himself. He can't help himself when you brush up against him, when you touch him, when you look like that right in front of him.

He doesn't know how he survives those first weeks. He doesn't feel like he's alive, really. Every waking thought is of you - of you and of how wrong it is that he can't stop thinking about you. That he keeps imagining what it would be like to hold you, to kiss you, to-

No.

No, he can't.

Even though you're making it practically impossible for him.

And it's not like you really know what you're doing either. But ever since the car incident that very first day back home, you've been picturing those arms, those shoulders - and after the first time you caught sight of him working shirtless on some project in the backyard with your father, those fucking abs. All glistening, sweaty skin, that v-line, that happy trail...

It's not your fault he's starring in all of your late night fantasies now. It's his. It's his because he shouldn't be allowed to look that fucking good, to smell and sound and feel that good, when you can't have him. Because of course you can't.

He's twenty-two years older than you. He's your dad's new best friend.

You can't.

You can't flirt with him like you want to, you can't have him, because it would be wrong. But you also can't not.

You don't mean to taunt him, not at first. At first, it's just instincts. Talk to him, get his attention. But the more you're around him... the less you can control yourself.

You want to then. You want to graze your fingers across his thigh when your father isn't looking, you want to suck the straw of your drink into your mouth while you blink up at him, you want to accidentally drop your spoon and bend over in front of him. You want to because you know he wants you to.

Even though he doesn't say it, even though he forces himself to turn away when you walk by him, you see the way he looks at you. You catch him staring, you catch him eyeing you up and down. You notice the tick in his jaw and the way his fists clench at his sides. You watch his knuckles turn white as he grabs the neck of his beer bottle and takes a deep sip.

You know he's most definitely attracted to you.

Because even if you imagine half of those things - there's still the car incident. There's still your number saved in his phone. There's still 'darling' on your mind. Mostly the way he's repeated it since then, two or three times maybe, each one inspiring more sinful bedtime scenarios.

You can't.

He can't.

And yet neither of you doesn't.

...

Your parents are away when it happens. Your dad has to go on a trip for work and he takes your mother with him, surprises her with an extra weekend of romance just for the two of them. They're gone by Wednesday morning and won't be back until Sunday afternoon and even though you're twenty-five and have experience living on your own, they've asked Jake to check in on you, just to make sure you're okay.

The first time he 'checks in on you' is involuntary. He's just come back from work, it's Wednesday, 3pm, and he's sitting down on his back porch with a beer when he spots you.

He really doesn't mean to. He hadn't even known you were there.

But the fence between your house and his isn't high and so it's only natural that his eyes flick over to your garden once.

And then twice.

Because you're climbing out of the pool in the tiniest black bikini Jake has ever seen in his life, looking like some angelic, biblic, ancient goddess - your hair in a messy bun, droplets of water running down your bare skin, muscles working as you pull yourself up the little ladder and put both feet against solid, dry ground, leaving wet footprints with every step you take until you grab your towel, sling it around your shoulders and-

Look right at him.

Your lips tug into a flirty grin. You wave at him, your hand lingering in the air a second too long before you wrap the towel tightly around yourself and tread towards the fence. Jake can't do anything but watch you go and swallow hard.

The other option would probably be to drag you into his arms and ravage you until your throat is sore from screaming his name.

So he just sits there and stares at you instead.

"Hey there", you greet as soon as you're close enough to the fence that he can't look past your belly button anymore.

"Hey", Jake says and for whatever reason, his voice sounds raspy even to himself. Your grin only deepens.

"Do you have plans for dinner yet?", you ask. You bat your lashes at him innocently as you dry off your arms. "I was going to order take out."

So that's why three hours later, Jake rings your doorbell, in a black button up he spent twenty minutes picking out. The last time he'd spent that long in front of the closet, he'd been about fifteen years younger and about to go on an actual date. This isn't an actual date. This is anything but a date, because he's only supposed to check in on his best friend's daughter. He's supposed to look after you. Keep you safe.

But you open the door in an oversized, washed out band tee and smile so stunningly that he forgets what he's supposed to do in about half a second.

There's a moment of silence as Jake stares at you. He knows that damn band tee.

"Is that... mine?", he asks in disbelief as he waits for the sight to sink in, which it does not do. His mind blanks completely. It's not just that it's oversized and that you look like you're drowning in it, which already has him imagining the way he could flatten his palms against your stomach and feel for you in that heap of fabric. It's also that he knows this fucking shirt because he's been wearing it for the past ten years.

You look down like you're just realising what you have on, not like you'd almost had a heart attack when you'd seen it in the laundry basket, squealing so loudly that your mother had come in to check on you. Jake had worn that shirt the same day and apparently forgotten to put it back on when he'd gone home, so your mother had put it in the laundry.

She hadn't realised that you'd stolen it for yourself before she could wash it. She probably hadn't paid it that much attention.

You had though. And tonight had felt like the perfect occasion to wear it.

"I found it in the laundry", you say truthfully, looking up at him with big eyes. "Dad said it wasn't his so I just took it. Maybe a mix up. Do you want it back?"

Your fingers reach for the hem of the shirt down by your thighs, tugging mindlessly up just a tiny bit. Jake almost stumbles over his own words with how quick he is in denying you.

"No, no, keep it", he reassures. "Keep it."

You let go of the shirt as your grin widens.

"Okay then", you say softly, turn around and leave the door open so Jake can get in. You stroll into the kitchen, crack open the fridge and grab the freshly made iced tea while Jake closes the door behind him and puts away his shoes.

It could have easily been awkward. Honestly, Jake isn't sure that it's not. But it doesn't feel like that. It just feels... heavy. Drowsy. As though you're moving in slow motion, looking at him over your shoulder with a sultry grin. And in his shirt as well. His fucking shirt, it's unbelievable.

You're smiling at him over Chinese take out food with the radio playing softly in the background and the dim kitchen light on and it could have been almost normal, almost nothing, almost just a friendly dinner with his best friend's daughter.

But it isn't.

It isn't because you're leaning over the table and stealing a spring roll from him, grinning at him when he starts to protest. It isn't because you're pushing him back down onto his chair when he wants to get up and help you clear the table, leaning most definitely too close to him to grab his plate and bending most definitely too far down to put it into the dishwasher. It isn't because you're opening a bottle of whiskey, pouring him one and only then asking if he's going to stay and watch a movie with you.

You've already poured him the drink.

Not that he'd been planning to say no.

You're not close to him on the couch, not really. You're a respectful distance away as you put your own drink onto the table in front of you and grab the remote. You're still a respectful distance away as you scroll through a bunch of movies and ask him if he's got any preferences - besides football, of course.

But when you decide on a movie, on one of those rom-coms he'd never watch willingly, you're draping your legs over his and brushing your hair away from your face and he has to swallow hard.

His hands drop to your bare skin almost instinctively. He can't keep them off of you, not when you're this close to him, not when you're offering so prettily. It's like he has to touch you, has to brush his thumbs across your ankles.

This could all be normal. This could all be usual.

Jake doesn't bother paying attention to the movie. It's not like he could possibly pay attention to it, not when his fingers are running up and down your soft skin. So he doesn't really mind that he misses their first kiss, even as you look up from the drink you're refilling with a gasp and wide eyes to watch.

Jake just watches the way your hair frames your face, those droplets of iced tea on your lips before you wipe them off. He's sure he could taste them if he tried to.

You lean back into the couch then and stretch and your shirt - Jake's shirt - rides so far up that he catches sight of your underwear. Fuck.

He has to grab onto you hard so that he doesn't launch himself right on top of you. His mouth is dry all of a sudden, so dry that he has to swallow. You blink up at him as you feel his hands clench around your ankles, your teeth digging into your bottom lip to keep from grinning.

He needs a few seconds to even look up at you. It's like his eyes are glued to that expanse of bare skin at your hip, clinging to the thought of you in your underwear right before him. You're always wearing shorts. You're always wearing shorts. You're always fucking wearing shorts.

Shit.

He shouldn't. He can't.

But his hands brush up your calves and he does look back at you then, which really isn't better, because your lip is still caught between your teeth and your expression is so sinful that he has to bite down on his own tongue.

"Jake", you breathe, all soft and quiet and that's it. That's his breaking point.

You can't just say his fucking name like that, not in his shirt, not while presenting him such a good look at your underwear, and expect him to be okay.

"Fuck", he mutters, then he's on you.

It's an uncomfortable position. You're half turned to him, half away, your legs are still thrown over his lap, which means he can't really push close to you, but his lips are against yours, so firmly, so passionately that you can't care, not right then.

Your eyes fall shut and you kiss him back with the same fervor, the same heat, the same fucking desperation to finally feel him. You part you lips almost too eagerly, too quickly, just so he can stroke his tongue along yours. His hands dig into your thighs, grabbing you tightly, and your arms cross behind his neck to drag him down to you - just that your legs are really in the way now and you have to try and pry one from his lap so that he doesn't crush it, which isn't all that comfortable and takes a while too long to still be sexy. You hardly mind. Jake doesn't either, only pulls his knees up to the couch to climb on top of you.

The whole thing is complicated and annoying and decidedly too time consuming, but his lips are on yours and he's pressing against you, catching himself with a palm against the couch cushions and lowering you to lie down, every single touch frenzied and hurried and hot. Heady and heavy and horny.

You're dragging your hands through his hair, tugging, pulling, scratching your nails across his scalp. He's grabbing your hips with his free hand, grasping your thighs, tangling his fingers in your shirt and digging them into your skin.

You're grinding against him. Not softly, not carefully, not secretly. You're wrapping your legs around him and grinding against him, almost without realising it - you need to be close, you need to be closer. You need to move. You need to feel him.

At the first moan you let out, Jake stills. When you breathily add his name, he pulls back entirely.

It's cold and empty without him, cold and empty and confusing as he settles back on his ankles, panting and wide-eyed. Your arms and legs drop to the couch as you try to catch your breath.

"No", Jake mutters. "We can't."

You push yourself up onto your palms, chest still heaving as you look up at him. Your cheeks feel so hot that you're sure they're embarrassingly red by now and your mind is still hazy with what just happened -

Jake had kissed you. He'd kissed you and you'd kissed him back.

And now he isn't kissing you anymore and you're absolutely not alright with that. You need him to kiss you again. You need to dig your hands into his hair and feel him knead your thighs again. You need to find out what it's like to rake your nails along his arms and scratch down his back.

"Jake", you breathe, staring at him all wide-eyed as he shakes his head and inches even further away from you. He seems like he's in a trance. You repeat his name more forcefully and reach out for him - but he only shakes his head again and runs a hand down his face.

You still for the entirety of two seconds. Then you sit up, inches closer to him than necessary, and toy with the hem of your shirt. You've got a hunch that giving and taking the sight of your underwear will only help your case here.

"Why not?", you ask as you watch his eyes drop down, just like you'd wanted. His breath catches.

"You're twenty-five", he begins, his voice a bit too rough to sound unaffected. "And I'm friends with your father."

You take a long look at him.

"Would you if you weren't friends with my father?"

You bite down on your lip and blink up at him as prettily as you can manage. You're quite sure you know the answer. Especially with that car incident... With your number saved in his phone. With that smug grin you still see in your fantasies.

He hadn't been too concerned with your age back then.

"I am friends with your father", Jake says, all the while struggling to drag his eyes back up your body.

"But if you weren't", you go on, not ready just yet to leave this be - because you know that if you back down now, you'll never get a chance again. Not like this. Not with him. "If you weren't friends with my father. Would you?"

A muscle ticks in his jaw. You hold your breath - one, two, three seconds. Then he's on you yet again and this time, this time with no end in sight. Not as he pushes you back down onto the couch and sets both his palms down next to your head. Not as you wrap your legs around his waist and work the buttons of his shirt, fingers moving so frantically that you slip up more than once - not that you care.

You're kissing Jake. After what has felt like an eternity of teasing and quietly flirting, you're finally kissing him, touching him, feeling him. On top of you, all around you.

Yes, he fucking would. You were right.

His shirt finally unbuttons and you can hardly push it out of the way quickly enough to run your hands down his chest - exploring his collarbones, his abs, that fucking happy trail that has been driving you insane ever since you saw it for the first time. Your fingers brush bare skin, warm, hot, bare skin, before they catch on his waistband. He grinds his hips onto yours as you draw your fingertips along his belt and swallows the moan you so pathetically let out.

You're just about to get to work on opening his belt buckle when he shifts his weight onto one hand and grasps your wrist with the other, pulling an inch away from you as he does so, lips parting in sticky intoxication.

"Jake", you mewl, but when you blink open your eyes he's already shaking his head softly and- grinning. Grinning that smug grin that you've been dreaming of. The one you haven't seen since the very first time you met him. Not with your dad around or directed at anyone else, no. The grin that takes your breath away right then, and you can't even tell why.

It's confident and cocky and cheeky and so, so very, very sexy. Fuck.

You stare at him with wide eyes and parted lips, too caught up in taking him in to notice how he's bringing both your hands up over your head.

"If we're doing this, I'm doing it right, darling", he mutters, all low and rough and the pet name has you clamping your thighs even harder around him. "And only if you want me to."

You can't nod quickly enough.

"I need you to tell me, baby", he grins, exposing those pearly whites that you'd very much like to feel biting into your neck or something. "I need you to say yes."

"Yes, Jake", you push past your lips, breathless and panting and desperate. Desperate for him. "Please."

His chuckle reverberates in your own chest. He runs his hand down your side and rubs a soft circle against the bare skin of your hip, catching on the flimsy fabric of your underwear.

"Already begging for me", he mutters with a grin, his fingers hooking into your waistband. Your hips buck up into his and a moan drops from your lips and Jake just keeps on grinning. Keeps on running his thumbs along your hip bones. "That easily."

You can't even deny it, deny him. You need him to touch you and you need him to do it now.

"You're lucky I want to taste you, because I'm sure it'd be fun to tease you", he chuckles, holds you down against the couch as he sits back on his ankles, keeping your legs spread and the dark spot on your underwear right on display for him. "I could keep you here all night."

You're not sure what excites you more - the promise of all night or the tasting you part. Either way, you bury your hands into your own hair and tug hard to keep yourself from sitting up, pushing him onto his back and riding him into oblivion. He wouldn't let you anyway, you're guessing.

Jake runs his free hand down the inside of your thigh and you really have to concentrate on not moving then. Every touch, every brush and every stroke sends shivers down your spine and pools in your core, heating up each inch of your skin.

When he reaches your underwear once more, he hooks his second thumb into it as well and tugs. Your jaw clenches. God, you've gotta keep still, you've just gotta wait-

He looks up then and raises his eyebrows.

"Please, Jake", you breathe, before he can even say anything. His eyes drop again and he pulls your underwear down, down, down, pushing your knees together to slide them off your legs and you're holding your breath, holding your breath in this intoxicating mess of a moment as he parts your thighs again and leans in. Leans closer.

Leans... not close enough.

Instead, he grabs the hem of your shirt.

"As much as I like that you're wearing my shirt", he mutters, already pushing it up and exposing your stomach to him, "I want to see you."

You let out a pathetic little moan, loosen your hands from your hair and pull his shirt over your head instead, dropping it down onto the floor without looking or bothering where it lands. You're not really bothered about anything besides getting Jake's mouth on you right now.

You're dripping already, dripping down your own thighs as he takes you in - all naked, all bare in front of him, soft skin and smooth curves, chest rising and falling with your heavy breath, eyes half-closed, lips parted and kiss-swollen.

It's wrong. He shouldn't. But he's already gone too far and now, now, with all of you for him to see, to touch, to feel, he can't go back. He can't ever go back.

He wants to burn this image into his memory forever.

"Jake", you whisper, voice just as soft and silky as the rest of you and he snaps out of his trance, runs his fingertips over your stomach, studies you as your breath catches. He leans down again, but his eyes are fixed on you still, focused even as he presses a kiss to your hipbone, then to the inside of your thigh. His teeth graze your skin and his fingers brush against the underside of your boobs.

Fuck.

You bite down on your lip.

Jake thinks he might be in heaven as he palms at your breasts, swiping his thumbs across your nipples and watching your expression change ever so slightly. He breathes against your wetness and his eyes flicker down to finally look at you, dripping for him. His fingers still for just a moment.

If he does this, there's no going back. He's crossing a line that he can never uncross.

But in all honesty - he's already long crossed that line.

So he flattens his tongue against you and tastes you. And you throw you head back and let out a moan that's so filthy that he can't even be bothered to care about what fucking lines he's crossing anymore. He just buries his face in your wetness and basks in the way your eyes roll back into your head.

Your hands dig into his hair all by themselves, tug and pull and push him closer, further into you. You taste heavenly. You are in heaven. You're in heaven with Jake between your legs, brushing his tongue through your folds, sucking your clit into his mouth and groaning into you. He's running his fingers over your breasts, palming and grasping at them, circling and tracing.

That's when the movie stops.

You hadn't even realised it was still on, to be honest, but now, in the silence, your moans echo three times as loud. Jake bathes in the sounds you're letting out. You're absolutely gorgeous like that, teeth tugging at your bottom lip, cheeks flushed, eyes fluttering closed before you blink them open again to look at him, to watch him as he lays between your thighs.

You're soaking in the way he swipes his tongue against you, the way he palms at your skin. With every touch and every brush, you can feel the knot tightening. Can feel the tension in your limbs growing. Can feel the way your legs are starting to clamp tighter, tighter and tighter around Jake's head.

He's so good at this. He's so fucking good at this.

Your grip on his hair tightens so much that you're sure you have to be hurting him, but he doesn't show the slightest hint of wanting to tell you off for it. No, quite the opposite: he pushes further into you and groans his approval.

Which is about the last thing you can take.

Your legs cramp, your hands drag at his hair, your back arches, your head hits the armrest of the couch and Jake guides you through your high, eyes set on you, focused and fixed on you, watching every single reaction you have to him, drinking in the sight of you, drinking in your moans. You're pushing back against him, panting and clawing at him, lips parted and eyes shut tightly as you take in a shaky breath and sink slowly back against the couch.

The air is heavy. Heavy with your emotions, heavy with your orgasm, heavy with your moans.

Jake pulls back slowly, softly, draws his hands down to your stomach to rub circles onto your skin - significantly warmer now than before. You're still breathing heavily, legs unhooking from around his head only reluctantly. Honestly, you wouldn't have minded if he'd just decided to stay down there for the next three to five business days. But you also don't mind as he pushes himself up and presses a kiss to your lips, because he tastes like you and you get to hook your arms around his neck and pull him even further down onto you.

With his half-bare chest pushed against yours, his tongue runs along your lips and you open willingly up to him. More than just willingly. Because with him on top of you, his lips sticky and syrupy on yours, not wanting or not able to part from yours, there's already anticipation running in your veins, wetness pooling in your core again, the urge to wrap your legs around him and grind against him growing and growing with every second that he's kissing you.

You draw your hands down his throat, push his shirt out of the way and brush your palms down his bare torso, all hard abs against your fingertips. He's in such good fucking shape you could truly be running your hands up and down a washboard right now. It feels unfair that he's more than twenty years older than you and somehow fitter.

Your fingers catch on his waistband then.

"Jake", you whine softly against him. "Please, I need you."

He groans, drops his head down to your neck and for a second, you just hear him breathe - all hot and heavy before his lips graze your skin.

"Fuck, you can't say that, darling", he mutters. "You don't know what you do to me."

His belt buckle feels cold against your fingertips, so cold against your sticky, sweaty skin.

"Show me", you whine, beg, plead. He's not teasing you, not taking his time, he's not waiting or edging or anything, and still- Still, you're so fucking desperate. He's finally got you here, finally, and as much as you're sure you'd enjoy his teasing... You just need him to fuck you. Now.

Jake chuckles breathily as he raises his head to look down at you. There's that grin again. That fucking grin.

Then he plants that grin onto your lips and you moan softly, hooking your fingers into his belt and pulling hard. You've just started loosening it successfully when he sits back onto his ankles, leaves you cold and lonely and fully naked on the couch. You mewl.

"Jake-", you let out, but he's already standing up, climbing off of the couch and you're sitting up as if in trance, just to follow him, whatever it is that he has in mind.

He slips off his shoes before he starts to work his belt and then lets that fall to the ground too. You reach for him instinctively, drawing your fingertips along his thighs as he pops the button of his jeans and pulls down his zipper, but when he hooks his thumbs beneath his waistband and tugs down, something snaps inside of you.

"Wait", you whisper. "Let me."

You reach out for him and graze your fingers along his waistband, taking a breath as your eyes flutter up at him. He swallows hard, lets his arms drop to his sides and nods heavily. God, he looks so fucking attractive. His hair all messy, his jaw clenched, his eyes fixed solely on you. You make sure to work quickly, almost frenzied, hurriedly pulling down his jeans and taking his briefs right with them. You won't spend unnecessary time on unimportant things.

Your breath catches, palms stilling against his thighs.

Fuck.

Jake's hand twitches, then clenches into a fist. But he stays right where he is, doesn't move an inch. Everything in him screams at him to run his fingers through your hair and guide you closer to him - but he doesn't. He won't. Not tonight, not right now. Right now, he wants to give you every out he can. Just in case you want to take it.

You don't. Of course not.

Not when you can see just how much he's holding himself back.

So instead you lean down and kitten-lick his tip. His hand flexes, again, and even though he lets out a deep groan that will surely echo in your head for the next two weeks, he stays still.

You just wrap your fingers around the base of his cock and take him into your mouth.

He has to close his eyes and tilt his head up to keep from bucking into you. Damn, it hasn't even been that long since he got blown. And he didn't react like a teenager then. But something about your warm, wet mouth, something about the way your dainty fingers reach around him, something about how you eagerly take him so far that he hits the back of your throat, something about that soft little gagging noise you make just before you pull off of him to breathe in deeply-

Fuck, you're making this really hard for him.

"Jake", you mutter, your hand still working him. He opens his eyes and looks down at you, looks down at you sitting there on the couch, completely naked, eyes all wide and cheeks flushed and so fucking stunning. His fingers brush along your forehead, tuck a strand of loose hair behind your ear.

"Jake", you repeat, a little more breathlessly this time. "Don't hold back for me. I won't break."

His jaw clenches again, but you just blink up at him, the weight of your words heavy between you. His eyes roam your face for any sign of uncertainty - then he nods. He'd like to disagree, though. He's more than afraid he'll break you.

You're so young, so sweet, so fragile.

Just not innocent. And you feel like you have to remind him of that - of your more than obvious flirting, of your sultry grins and half-naked hints, of your number sitting so unashamedly in his contacts.

So you lean in again, pull your free hand from his thigh and grab his wrist instead, dragging it away from your cheek and planting it on the back of your head as you wrap your lips around him. He takes a shallow breath and your hand drops back down to his thigh. There's one, two seconds in which your eyes just flutter closed and your nails dig into his skin-

Then, finally, fucking finally! Jake tangles his fingers into your hair and pushes you into him. You loosen your hand from around him and put it against his other thigh, allowing him to pull you closer and closer. You breathe deeply through your nose as Jake groans above you - and it takes everything in you not to grin. Instead, you just let him guide you, blink open your eyes to look at him and try to ignore the arousal dripping down the inside of your thighs. He looks so fucking good, it should truly be forbidden, because now you have to press your legs together and steady your palms against him.

Jake feels about the same. His breathing is heavy, his grip on your hair firm, and his eyes are set on you - on how he disappears inside your mouth, again and again, your spit coating him, your throat tight. He can't help but push you down, one time, two times, and pull you back, three times, four times, then push you down and pull you back again. And again. And again. He can hardly concentrate on how good you're making him feel when you're looking that fucking sinful.

Shit.

Before he can come right then and there in your mouth, he tugs you off fully, his jaw clenching involuntarily at the soft whine you let slip. But you can barely be truly bothered when he leans down and presses his lips to yours instead. You're not bothered about anything, really - about anything but his tongue against yours as you cross your arms behind his neck and draw him in, your hands dragging into his hair, your mouth moving desperately against his, sloppily, silently begging him for more.

Jake steadies his palms against the back rest and pulls away heavily, breathing hard as you open your eyes again to look at him - half-lidded, all languid and slow. He swallows hard.

"Do you-", he starts, his voice low and rough and you nod, letting your arms drop from around him to point at the side table.

Have a condom, he'd wanted to ask. In any other situation, he'd have one himself, but something about bringing condoms for a check in on his best friends daughter would have felt incredibly wrong.

"In my makeup bag", you say, your voice thin and breathy as he stretches and reaches for the lavender coloured pouch, unzipping it and looking for the condoms between all the brushes and lipglosses. He can barely pull one out before your fingers close around it, before you've carefully torn it open. He drops your makeup bag back onto the side table right as you straighten up to press a kiss to his lips - almost innocent, almost, if it weren't for the taste of him on your tongue. Then you press a kiss onto his collarbone. Then one right onto his abs. Then one just above that happy trail that has been driving you fucking insane. And then, then, you run your tongue over his tip again before you roll the condom onto him.

Which means it's his turn.

And he doesn't hesitate.

He's not rough in the way he pushes you onto your back on the couch, no, he's smooth with it, hands running along your skin as he cages you in, as he rests his arms next to your head - but he's firm nonetheless. He takes control easily, moving you how and where he wants to, claiming your mouth, pressing his lips to yours. You let him. More even, you relish in giving in to him, in giving him control, in letting go, in trusting him. You bathe in his kisses, in his touches, in his soft grunts as he guides himself into you.

"Jake", you whine against his lips, your fingers tangling in his hair, eyes falling shut. The stretch is delicious, heavenly. He fills you slowly, dragging his lips down your throat as you tilt your head back and let out a filthy moan. Your legs wrap around him, pull him closer. His teeth graze your neck, drawing a moan from you as he settles. He gives you a moment to adjust.

A moment too long.

Way too long.

Even with his lips on your skin, with your nails dragging down his neck, digging into his shoulders, even with him inside of you, you need more. You need him to move. Right fucking now.

"Jake", you mewl, your eyes fluttering open. He raises his head to look at you and- Fuck, good lord. You've messed up his hair and his pupils are wide and his cheeks are red and he looks fucking heavenly. So heavenly that your breath catches. You forget what you wanted to say for a moment. Then his thumb brushes your cheek and you remember.

"Move", you breathe, digging your fingers into his skin and wrapping your legs around him tightly. You need him to move. But his lips tug up in that grin again and, as quickly as you can, you add- "Please, Jake."

His grin widens as he looks down at you, all pretty and desperate, clenching around him, lips parting in a silent moan. It would be so easy to tease you, so easy to make you beg and plead for him... And you'd look so gorgeous doing it. You're already so eager to please him.

But not tonight. Not right now. Right now, he just needs to make you feel good. So he leans down, presses a kiss to your lips and moves. Finally.

You open up to him eagerly, letting him run his tongue along yours, moaning into him as he thrusts into you. Deep and languid, hitting all the right spots like no one has before. Fuck, fuck, fuck-

You're really doing this. He's really doing this. You claw at his back, scratch down his skin, sure to leave bruises as he pulls his head up to look at you, to watch the way you arch up into him. Your skin glistens with sweat, your lips part to let out a breathy mewl and the coil in your stomach tightens, tightens, tightens.

Jake shifts his weight onto one arm, frees a hand to brush his fingers through your hair, tugging, tilting your head back, exposing your throat to him. You moan at the ceiling as he drops a filthy kiss onto your collarbone before he lets go of your hair again, trailing his hand down your side instead - and his hand is so fucking big, so big as he draws it down your body, brushing his fingertips over your boob, sweeping over your hip, grasping your thigh. You pull him down onto you, crash your lips back onto his hard. You need to feel him, you need to kiss him, you need to hold him right now. You need him. You need this.

He smoothes his fingers down your skin until they catch on your clit.

"Jake", you moan into his mouth, pathetic even to your own ears. He only grins into the kiss and circles your clit as he thrusts into you, again and again and again, your legs clenching harder and harder and harder around him before he pulls away, pulls even further away even though you chase after his lips, his eyes roaming your face as you squeeze yours shut tightly.

"Look at me, darling", he drawls, his voice low and raspy, his fingers rough against your clit. "Look at me when I'm fucking you."

You let out some kind of deranged moan at his crude wording, opening your eyes and blinking up at him because there's no fucking way you can deny him. Not when he calls you darling like that. Not when he thrusts inside you just right. Not when the view of him, messy hair and grinning and all, has you clenching around him this hard.

You're close. So close.

"Atta girl", he mutters, and that does it for you.

Your legs cramp and your lips part again to let out a gorgeous little moan that Jake swallows up immediately, slotting his mouth over yours and drinking up the way you clench around him. It takes everything in him not to come too. You're so fucking pretty and you're clenching so fucking perfectly around him, but he needs to make you feel good first, he needs to make you come first, he needs...

"Jake", you mewl, face scrunched up, back arched, as he guides you through your second high of the night. "Fuck, fuck."

He's grinning when you come down. You grab his hand and pull it away from your clit. It's too much right now, too much. It takes a second for you to even realise that he's stopped moving entirely, too focused on watching you, on drinking up the sight of you, tousled hair and red cheeks and parted lips and all. You look like an angel, so fucking heavenly that he can't believe his eyes, not really.

"Jake", you mutter, slurring his name so prettily and pulling him in for another kiss, your arms loose around his neck, your fingers lazily brushing through his hair. "Come for me?"

It's barely more than a breath, barely more than a whisper onto his lips, but he hears it, oh, he hears it. He lets out a groan as he draws away again, his eyes roaming your face. You're unbelievable. Fucking unbelievable.

You're asking him to come for you. Begging him to come for you.

And there's no grin in sight, no smug smile, no hint of trying to take control of him - it's not a command, not even close, you're actually, genuinely pleading, your eyes half-lidded and barely focusing, just needing him to feel good now, too.

You're really fucking unbelievable.

He can't remember ever having a woman ask him to come.

He kisses you so hard you become dizzy, pressing his lips onto yours and tangling a hand into your hair. He pushes impossibly closer, thrusts back into you and pulls another string of moans from you, bordering on incomprehensible, hardly more than breaths, mewls that he swallows before they can flee into the empty air of the living room.

His own breathing comes in pants, his muscles clenching and tensing and he's there quicker than he thought he'd be. He's close, really close, and that's when you decide to dig your teeth into his lip and tug and fuck, he's there, alright. He's done then. He spills inside you with a groan, pulling back right as you flash him a dazed grin, eyes fluttering open to take him in.

Your throat feels way too dry all of a sudden.

You don't think you'll get this image out of your head ever again, this image of him coming undone on top of you. It's burning itself into your memory while you watch, never to be forgotten.

Because hell no, you won't forget this.

"Fuck", Jake groans, his voice all rough and hoarse and he leans down to press a kiss to your lips again, slow this time, almost soft. He brushes a thumb down your cheek, lightly cups your jaw and pulls you even closer, your skin warm beneath his fingers.

You tighten your arms around his neck a bit, keeping him firmly there, firmly on top of you, firmly inside of you. But he makes no move to leave, anyway. Just runs his tongue tenderly along yours, unhurried and gentle, and holds you close. You don't know for how long. He could've kept you there for eternity and you wouldn't have minded. How could you mind, basking in the afterglow like this, with his skin sticking to yours, his fingers grazing your cheek, his lips brushing against yours? No, really, you could've stayed there for the rest of forever.

But he pulls back after a while, of course, and pulls out, too. You let out some kind of disappointed mewl, but that's about everything you can do before he gently grasps your wrists and pulls your arms from around him, smiling in a way you can't even begin to complain.

"Lets get you cleaned up, darling", he says softly, carefully helping you sit up, his hands everywhere but nowhere nearly long enough.

You sigh dramatically, blinking your eyes open to look at him, even as you let him pull you up. Your legs feel like pudding. You feel like pudding.

"If we have to", you give in, smiling as Jake grins and shakes his head at you.

"We have to", he chuckles, hauls you up into his arms and waits for you to hold onto him before he carries you into the bathroom - seemingly fucking without any problem whatsoever, as if you weigh nothing at all to him.

You bite down on your lip and rest your forehead against his chest, squeezing your eyes shut to not have to look at him while you contemplate his strength. He should not be this fucking strong. He should not be allowed to be this fucking strong.

"Careful", Jake says, his voice low, as he sets you gently down on the toilet seat. You flinch away from the ice-cold seat against your thighs, fingernails digging into his shoulders for one, two, three seconds before you relax and settle down.

Jake lets go of you just as softly, steadying you until he's sure you won't just fall right off the toilet. He turns and you look up, his back right there to stare at, a smile tugging at your lips again - goddamn, he looks way too good, holy shit. You barely hear the garbage can open and close as he throws away the used condom, then rummages through the drawers until he finds a washcloth that he can soak in luke warm water.

He turns with a smile, grabs your chin tenderly and presses a kiss to your lips, just one, all sweet and languid, so unlike the rest of his kisses. You hardly notice that he's cleaning you off as he kneels down in front of you, simply because you're so entranced by him. God, but he really looks like he's fucking glowing, you hate him for having this effect on you.

He wraps his arms around you again - did he put the washcloth away? fuck, did you miss that? - and you cuddle close, almost (but just almost) letting out a pleased sigh. Fuck, he's so broad and so strong and so comfortable...

He sets you down on the couch and smiles.

"Wait here for me, darling", he mutters, bending down to pick up your shirt (his shirt, really) and slide it carefully over your head once again. You hug yourself close and settle deep into the couch as Jake disappears. His steps echo through the house.

Then there's silence.

Absolute silence.

You rest your head against the headrest and close your eyes, your fingertips absentmindedly drawing circles against your heated skin.

And in this quiet emptiness... the reality of the situation finally sinks in.

For the first time.

Because you just slept with Jake Seresin.

Jake Seresin. Your neighbour Jake Seresin. Your dad's best friend Jake Seresin. Twenty-two years older than you Jake Seresin.

Holy fucking shit. Holy fucking shit.

This actually happened. This actually fucking happened. You slept with Jake Seresin. And somehow... somehow- Somehow you can't feel guilty. You can't feel bad or ashamed. Not like you should. And you definitely should. Because this is Jake Seresin, not some random frat guy. This is forty-seven year old, your dad's best friend Jake Seresin.

But you can't feel bad.

You really do try, for the entirety of a minute or two, while somewhere in the back of the house, a door is opened and closed again. But you still can't feel bad. So you don't.

Jake comes back with a water bottle and his briefs back on, which you can't help but feel disappointed at. He sits down on the couch next to you and hands you the bottle.

"Drink", he nods, so you uncap it carefully and take a sip. It's charming, really, how the first time you'd met him with your car broken down, he'd also handed you a water bottle. A grin tugs at your lips involuntarily. It's just coincidence, you know that, but there's something incredibly sweet about the way he's seemingly always made sure to keep you hydrated. There's something sweet about him, simple as that, with how softly he's cleaned you off and settled you down on the couch after.

You put the bottle down on the table and turn to him.

He looks almost normal again, almost like before. He's still nearly naked though (which you certainly aren't complaining about), and his hair still looks like he's just walked straight out of a hurricane. He raises his eyebrows at you as you take him in.

"We should probably talk about this", you say, your voice cracking halfway through. You're not sure you want to talk about it. And with the way Jake's face falls... yeah, he doesn't seem to, either. But he still straightens up and brings some more distance between the both of you.

Maybe that's smart, actually. Maybe. But then again, you've already done everything you could to try and feel bad, so instead of doing the reasonable (you're already way past the reasonable anyway) and pushing further away from Jake too, you stretch out a leg and drape it over his lap again.

A muscle in his jaw ticks and he grasps your ankle almost immediately, as if there's no other choice but to touch you even while he's trying to keep his distance.

"But", you grin, scooching a little closer as an idea forms in your mind, "You know, I still have to shower. Chlorine is so bad for the skin unless you wash it off. And I did spend quite a while in the pool today."

...

It's Monday afternoon and even hotter than the weeks before. You're sitting outside, sunbathing in the fifteenth layer of sunscreen of the day, with sunglasses on that hardly seem to do anything and wearing nothing but a bikini because god, you're fucking melting. It hasn't been this hot the entire year.

The only really good thing about the scorching heat is that Jake, for lack of swimming pools in his garden, is doing sets in yours. You're incredibly glad for your sunglasses, because even though your mother is sitting right next to you, burying her nose in another of the novels she'd checked out from the library two weeks earlier, you can ogle Jake without worrying that she'll catch you.

And goddamn, you're ogling, alright.

It's not like you haven't stared at him enough. Over the past five days, you've barely been doing anything else. Well, except for those times you'd had your eyes closed and his lips on yours, of course. But still, you don't really feel like you could ever possibly get enough of staring at him.

And right now, right now, with the way he climbs out of the pool, arms tensing and flexing, water dropping down his skin, his hands running through his soaking wet hair...

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

You bite down on your lip and press your thighs together. God, if you aren't careful, you'll have to disappear into the house and shower early, because you're sure you could not pass the dark spot on your bikini bottoms off as sweat.

Jake turns away to grab his towel and starts to dry off and you're already mulling over how you'll phrase the message you'll send him (something along the lines of 'tell my parents you need to use the bathroom' with a shower selfie attached? You've already sent him way worse things while he'd been at work) when your mother suddenly gasps.

Three heads turn to her simultaneously.

"Jake!", she chokes, her book sinking down into her lap. Jake raises his eyebrows at her, just as clueless as you are. She parts her lips and then clamps her mouth shut again, apparently lost for words. "Your back."

It hits you like a tidal wave.

Oh, shit. Oh, holy fucking shit.

You should've noticed earlier. Much earlier. You should've- God, he'd known, too, hadn't he? But you'd been the one to stare at his back long enough that you should've noticed. Yesterday. You should've noticed the long, red lines running down his skin. Your long, red lines running down his skin. Fuck, fuck-

"Oh, that-"

Jake stumbles over his own words for the first time ever since you've met him. His eyes find yours, for just a moment or two, and you can see the panic in them. It's the second fucking day your parents are back. The second fucking day. And you're already messing up, you're already-

"I knew it", your mother grins, clapping her hands together and letting out a laugh that startles you so hard you flinch. "I knew you were a womanizer after all! I mean, looking like that, there's no other way-"

"Honey!", your father gasps, and she giggles and throws her hands up. But he's grinning too and you know him well enough to say he isn't really mad that she's complimenting Jake.

"Sorry, sorry, just saying." She chuckles to herself and grabs her book again, her voice dropping to a mumble. "I can't believe it though, we go away for five days and suddenly he's hooking up with someone! I think we need to stop inviting him over so often if we want him to find somebody."

Your father laughs and gets up to offer Jake a beer.

"You didn't happen to see who he brought home, did you?", your mother asks, her voice almost too casual to really be casual as she turns her head to look at you with raised eyebrows.

You choke on your breath.

"Um-", you start, but your father already rolls his eyes and saves you without meaning to.

"You're not nosy at all", he chides, resting his beer bottle against her foot. She tugs it away and shakes her head at him.

"Just curious", she grins. "Just curious."

Yeah. Just curious. You pray to god that just curious won't one day expose the little secret you've got going on with Jake. Next time, you'll really have to be more careful with your nails.

#jake seresin x reader #jake seresin smut #dbf!jake seresin #dbf!jake seresin smut #x reader #dbf!jake seresin x reader #top gun #top gun x reader #jake hangman seresin #jake hangman seresin smut

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woso-dreamzzz · 4 months

Text

Temper

Arsenal Women x Teen!Reader

Summary: You have a short fuse

It's not that you were an aggressive person.

Off the pitch, you were sweet and kind and almost always huddled in a group with Vic and Lessi mucking about.

You just had a bit of a temper, especially when it came to football.

In all honesty, you blamed your dad. You had spent countless evenings sat next to him on the sofa as he screamed and yelled at the tv, watching matches. It seemed only right to emulate him.

Your fuse was short and you snapped easily on the pitch.

"Not even a yellow?!" You demanded, gesturing wildly from your spot on the ground," That was deliberate! She didn't even get the fucking ball!"

"Watch it!" The ref snapped back," Or I'll give you a yellow!"

If your ankle wasn't throbbing, you would have surged to your feet to argue you your case.

"It's not worth it," Steph muttered as she helped you up.

"Not worth it?" You scoffed," Not worth it?! Steph, that was clearly a yellow!" You don't know when you pivoted from arguing your case to shouting at Steph but the frustration bubbled over and soon Lia had to grab you by the hand and pull you away.

"Stop it!" She said sternly, not quite yelling but enough to know there would be consequences if you didn't. "Go back to position and play."

"It was worth a yellow!"

"Yes, maybe it was but it's done now and we need as many legs on the pitch as possible right now. Don't get another yellow."

You stormed off with a huff. You rivalled Katie in the amount of yellows you got (though most of them came from arguing back to the refs rather than aggressive play style) which was kind of impressive seeing as you only joined the team last year.

Mini McCabe had been your nickname for almost a year now and it was something you took in your stride. You are who you are and all that. You couldn't help it if you got a bit...forceful when you were arguing your point.

"What?" You demanded in the next match," You've got to be joking! I didn't do anything! Are you crazy?!"

Your second yellow card in the game was like being hit with a truck. The first hadn't even you being angry. You made a sloppy tackle trying to get the ball off Toone so you took the card even though Toone was clearly milking her 'injury' - though you made sure she knew what it meant when you actually aggressively tackled her. Thankfully, the ref hadn't quite seen that one.

But this yellow card came out of nowhere.

Lia and Caitlin were both sprawled out on the ground, having crashed into each other as two of the United girls squashed the pair between them. You couldn't quite see what had happened in the tangle of legs but you know it was some foul play and you made that known to the ref.

You weren't the only one though because Katie was yelling too.

"Do you need glasses?!" You had demanded," Are you competent at your job?! There's clearly yellow cards that need to be handed out."

"You're right," He had replied and finally you felt vindicated only for him to flash the yellow at Katie and then you.

It was Katie's first of the match but your second.

Her hand clamped around your arm quickly when it looked like you were about to get physically aggressive (you weren't but it did cross your mind to get all up in the ref's face).

"I didn't do anything!" You yelled anyway.

"Dissent," Was all he answered, indicating with his head to get off the pitch.

"Come on," Katie said although she looked equally as angry as you.

You stormed off down the tunnel, your feet slamming into the ground.

"I don't want to talk about it!" You snapped at Leah as soon as she appeared behind you.

"Too bad," She said and Kim (who had been benched today) also appeared," We're talking about it."

"I didn't do anything!" You yelled," Just because he's a fucking-"

"Hey!" Kim wasn't really one to raise her voice so you shrunk down into yourself when she did. "I understand you're frustrated but there's no need to insult him again."

"Frustrated? Frustrated?! I'm fucking fuming! That wasn't worth another yellow! Lia and Caitlin could have been seriously hurt!"

"You're sixteen," Leah replied," It's not your job to defend them."

"Well no one else was fucking doing it!" You clenched your hands into fists and you felt a bit like a cartoon, like smoke was about to come out of your ears. "Maybe if the rest of the team actually did something then I wouldn't have to-"

"Go and shower," Kim ordered," Take the time to cool off. We'll discuss this later."

When Kim didn't speak to you after the match ended, you thought you were home free.

It was only when she, Leah and Jen cornered you in the break room that you realised why it had taken so long.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me!" You said in disbelief," A sticker chart? What am I, a fucking child?"

"You're acting like one," Jen replied.

You glared at her, crossing your arms over your chest. "I'm not using that!"

"You don't have a choice," Kim said," For every match where you don't go off the rails, cause a fight or get a yellow card, you get a sticker."

"I don't need stickers," You said bluntly," I'm sixteen!"

"What you need," Leah said firmly," Is an attitude adjustment. You want to keep playing? Keep getting minutes on that pitch? You'll deal with your sticker chart."

You thought about arguing with them, about blowing up and yelling but you just knew that would get you treated with more kid's gloves than right now.

"Sticker charts get a reward at the end," You bit out, scrunching your hands up into firsts to keep from yelling," What do I get?"

Leah and Jen exchanged a look. It was clear that they hadn't thought that far ahead.

"Er..."

"What do you want?" Kim asked.

You shrugged. "Free food. As unhealthy and greasy as I want."

Kim looked physically in pain when she agreed with you, shaking your hand.

"Hey!" Jen said as you moved to leave," Take your chart with you!"

Katie thought it was hilarious, teasing you relentless when you came back to the locker room with your new chart but shut up pretty quickly when you muttered that they might put her on a sticker chart too if she wasn't careful.

Somehow, she ended up being your greatest ally in keeping your temper on the pitch. She was always there to redirect you away from the ref before yelling at them herself when you were safely standing by people like Steph or Viv who definitely wouldn't let you wander closer.

Your sticker chart filled pretty quickly when Leah and Jen threw their own hats into the ring and promised to buy you food too if you completed it.

You fell to the ground with a crash, swearing under your breath as you grabbed at your knee. It wasn't seriously injured (thank god) but it was a little scraped up.

You looked up to throw a glare at the back of Zelem's head as she waltzed off. It was clearly an unfair tackle. She slid in on you after you had kicked the ball up to Vic already.

"Hey," Lessi said as she jogged over," You okay?"

"No," You said, gritting your teeth," Did the ref at least see it?"

You knew your answer the moment Alessia hesitated to reply. You got to your feet and brushed off your knee. It bled a little but it was mostly just a graze.

You could see the ref talking to Zelem briefly before letting her go on her way. Your blood boiled and, with no Katie on the pitch to get on the ref about his bad call, you felt a rush of anger through your system.

You glanced around quickly, just to check who was paying attention to you before you moved towards the ref. Your hands clenched into fists and you anger bubbled in your throat.

You walked right past him on your way back to your position, letting out a deep, shuddering breath as you did so.

You refused to look over at the bench where Kim, Jen and Leah were sitting. You knew they were going to be wearing those god awful smug smirks that they always did when you ignored the anger stirring inside of you and turned away.

You sighed as you waited for the throw in, stretching out your legs and pulling your socks up to cover your knee.

You just needed to get through this match.

Just this match without a yellow card and your sticker chart would be complete and you would finally be able to drain Kim, Leah and Jen's bank accounts for all they were worth.

#woso x reader #arsenal wfc x reader #arsenal x reader #arsenal wfc #woso community #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso

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orionremastered · 4 months

Note

hi! I was wondering how the bats would be with a reader who is disabled or has prosthetics? they're all just very protective of people they care about since...everything, and how maybe that could start to feel sufacating at some point? Or something, idk dude

(also-the way you write is realy cute and sweet for all of them, makes them feel a lot less heavy when they have someone to hold them <33)

Masterlist

Batboys with a Disabled S/O

Dick Grayson [Fully Deaf]

A gentle touch on your shoulder prompts you to slowly turn around, a smile stretching across your face when you realise your boyfriend's back from work.

You pull him into your arms, threading your fingers through his hair. Pulling away reluctantly, you give him a kiss on the tip of his nose.

But he's not smiling; only a sad smile that makes you tilt your head in a silent question.

Don't worry about it, he signs. Have a good day?

You nod, though your frown remains when he moves to the kitchen, always adamant that he cooks whenever he's home. He pulls his phone out of his pocket, frowning at the caller ID and puts the phone on speaker as he begins cooking.

Dick gets more and more angry as the conversation goes on, his hands waving wildly around the small kitchen, only stopping to return to the cooking.

Finally, he hangs up. You tap him on the shoulder and he turns, watching as you sign;

Who was that?

Dick's shoulders raise and drop. A case I'm working on. I'll figure it out.

You nod slowly, satisfied with his response.

Jason Todd [Fully Blind]

Mornings with Jason always start like this. They always start with you gently running your fingers across his face, mapping it out and imagining it in your head. Over his nose, his lips, his stubble.

"Did you clean the apartment?" you ask, lying on top of him as your guide dog sits next to you on the mattress. "I almost knocked one of your guns off the counter yesterday."

"I did," he murmurs. You rest your fingers on his lips and feel that they're stretched into a smile. "I'm sorry for letting it get messy."

"That's okay," you reply quietly, "Ollie picked it up before it hit the floor."

Ollie, your guide dog, makes a huffing sound beside you, causing you both to chuckle.

"Good boy," Jason says proudly, feeling him shift underneath you, mostly likely to pat Ollie.

"You're both good. Too good, maybe."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Jason asks.

"Hmm."

Tim Drake [Classical Ehlers-Danlos syndrome]

"Love? Can we go for a camping trip on the weekend with my friends?"

Tim turns his head slowly as he sits in his study chair. He taps the pen he's holding against his lips. "What happens if you get exhausted?"

"We can go back to the tent and rest."

"You can get bruises. A lot of bruises," he frowns, gesturing for you to walk to him. You comply.

"That's fine, they're just bruises," you respond, sitting on his lap. He begins gently drawing shapes on the bare skin of your thighs.

"You could dislocate something," he says to you, quieter now.

"You know how to put it back. You do it for me all the time."

Tim's brow furrows at the reminder of having to put back in dislocated joints more often than he'd like. "Fine. But if you even start to get a little tired, you tell me. Okay?"

You rest your forehead against his and murmur, "Okay."

Damian Wayne [Prosthetic Arm]

"I'll take those—"

"Damian, I love you, but I can put shopping bags into the car just fine." This and many similar conversations have been going on practically since the start of your relationship. And while you do find it endearing that he cares, sometimes you just want him to treat you like you didn't lose your right arm in an accident.

The man scowls. "But—"

"I'm not going to hurt myself, really."

He watches you warily, weighing the outcomes of the situation. "Fine. Only the lighter ones."

You suppose it's better than not being able to do any of them. Still, he watches you like a hawk as you put the lighter ones in the back of the car he bought you (you protested but that man has the most selective hearing).

He closes the trunk/boot after the bags are inside.

"Can I drive?" you ask, hoping you'll get luck there too.

"No."

"I know how."

"No."

#batfamily x reader #damian wayne x reader #batfam #jason todd x reader #dick grayson x reader #tim drake x reader

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crayons-and-glitter-glue · 1 year

Text

I think about Sun and Moon's original versions a LOT, and I don't get why people say they're not expressive!

Or perhaps, I do, and I just wanna ramble. Anyways! Big ol warning for lots of talking, some fursuit gifs and analyzation of body movement.

So, they have flat, immobile faceplates, right? Technically, yes!some argue that this makes them immediately inert and expressionless and opt to enhance their expressions. And this is a-okay! Do what you like!

But as someone who used to be a costumer, and wears a fursuit on occasion,

(Sorry, I love this gif so much)

BUT! When in a mascot costume, fursuit, or any other costume with a mask over one's face, the performer has to learn how to move in order to portray the emotions necessary for character engagement with the audience! Whether it's exaggerated head bobs, using your hands to talk, or making everything a bit of a spectacle, even the way you tilt your FACE can affect how you look.

Even MUPPETS do this with their limited range of expression. And we can easily draw those conclusions of how the boys were programmed to act in canon!

Take Sun's default animation in the daycare, just standing there.

It's very obvious here what he's trying to portray, and who his programmed audience is- little children! When costuming around little kids, you wanna use big gestures, and get on their level because you can seem HUGE AND SCARY to them! You wanna get down towards the ground, make big sweeping cartoon motions, and make sure all your movements are ROUNDED- not jabbing, sharp, or sudden- so that the kid isn't ever surprised, but rather delighted by your performance as a costumer. I'll show you an example by the amazing performer, Temba the Bat! (Made by Toxicoon, I believe.)

Big sweeping motions, slow without being too spooky, and generally friendly motions while swaying the head! Looks kinda similar right?

Another point is, though, these exaggerated motions don't really... turn off when feeling other things. Sun and Moon don't have a customer service mode, and that's WILD to me that their programming requires them to act like this all the time. Exhibit B: Sun's pain in the transformation scene.

He's making such exaggerated motions and movements to INDICATE he is in pain or holding something back. He's gripping his face like something is trying to come out of it, and even dramatically falls backwards to indicate a loss of control in his body. Whether the way the fall looks so cartoonist was intentionally programmed in, I couldn't tell you.

And then... there's Moon.

This is SO cartoon villain sequel, isn't it? The hands tapping delicately on the surface, the exaggerated head tilt, all of it is so wildly exaggerated in such a smooth way to let you know "Ah! I'm in danger! Great!"

And yet... he still is low to the ground. Still in that pose of going after someone SMALL. Performing for someone small. His evilness is almost completely exaggerated and, dare I say, fabricated by his programming. Of course, the virus probably had something to do with it but LIKE! Look at that range of motion!

Idk what the point of all this is, I just wanna say: it's totally understandable to make the boys super duper expressive in the artistic, flat 2d styles i see a lot!

But man I do hope someone draws them biblically accurate while expressing something else because that would be hilarious to see Sun throwing a temper tantrum by banging his fists on the ground and flailing while his face is just

#daycare attendants #dca fandom

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milesmolasses · 11 months

Text

pretty baby (e-42 miles x black! fem!reader)

— car rides with miles nvr fail to make u queazy

— ⚠️: light cursing, slightly suggestive, slight angst, kinda sensitive reader

"you are unbelievable, y'know that?"

sitting in the car scrunched up with your legs close to your chest, you turned your whole body away from the driver's seat, trying to avoid any and all contact with the driver. after what happened today, you didn't think you could ever face miles again, too embarrassed to talk to him the entire car ride.

"it wasn't even that big a deal baby, i'm sure nobody even cared like that," he chuckled. he thought it was childish how such small moments could affect your mood for such wildly long periods of time.

"I sucked the syrup off your fingers miles, in front of all your friends. i'm humiliated!" you cried, putting your hands over your face and bending down into your lap; anything to avoid eye contact with him.

looking back at the road with a smirk on his face, he said, "if it makes you feel better, I didn't mind it..-"

"MILES!" you whined as you snapped your head in his direction. "how could you say that to me right now?!"

"oh– ok i'm sorry baby, but that doesn't mean you have to act like this-!"

you rolled your head back as you groaned and covered your face with your hands again; he didn't get it. the way you were perceived was extremely important to you, especially in front of people who you deemed important. you didn't want your boyfriends' friends to perceive you as some sort of sex fiend.

"just drive miles. you don't get it."

furrowing his eyebrows, he turned the block and pulled into a mcdonalds parking lot near your house. "then make me understand, hm? why are you letting this stupid shit affect you?"

"oh my god miles just take me home, please I don't wanna talk about it–"

"no, see 'cause now you have my attention, what's the matter?" if there was one thing you knew about miles, it's that he won't let shit go, especially when it comes to you.

"miles, i swear to god if you don't drive me home i'm gonna get out this car and walk," you threatened. you could feel tears begin to form in your eyes and the burning feeling you get in your gut when you're about to cry. miles noticed your chest rising and falling, a telling sign you were about to cry; this only pushed him further.

"you not goin' nowhere. not until you talk to me, so here's what we gon' do; we will sit in this car and we won't move until you start talking," he said as brought his hand up to your face, wiping the tear that escaped your waterline before it could drip and ruin your makeup.

your face scrunched up at the small gesture and you pressed your lips in a tight line. suddenly the burning feeling burned even hotter, and the saliva in your mouth began to increase. more tears slipped from your eyes. in a soft yet pleading voice, you asked, "please, can I just go home?"

he furrowed his eyebrows as he looked at your state and it was then he could tell this was a real problem. "ay baby.. eres mi vida. talk to me," he cupped your face with both of his hands as they caught the tears falling. with your face smushed in his hands, he leaned in to give you a smooch, not caring if your lipgloss got all over him– he just wanted to see you smile for him.

"I don't want them to think badly of me miles.. they all looked at me funny and were cheering when I did it. I humiliated myself in front of them," you spilled, not wanting to keep it in anymore. and to be honest, it felt weird crying in your boyfriends' hands and not into your pillow alone in your room.

putting his forehead to yours, he said, "hey, look at me; you don't always have to worry about impressing everybody. everybody don't matter, you understand me? only me and you, ok? ion' wanna see you crying over some pinche pendejos who don't got they own girls and haven't matured since middle school."

you giggled softly as you sniffled your nose.

"there's that pretty smile," he mumbled as he gave a kiss to the top of your head.

"my pretty girl��”

you could feel your face get warmer after what he said, the indication, that big yet subtle word “my” sticking out to you like a sore thumb.

“what, you like that? like when I call you that mi vida?” you knew he would never let you live this down, and this would be one of your many nicknames he would use on you to get you flustered to his own advantage.

“shut up—”

“what, you don’t wanna be my pretty girl?” he inquired whilst leaning back to look at you, feigning disappointment.

“of course I do miles-”

“then lemme hear you say it chiquita— c’mon I wanna hear you say it,” he said sounding very suave. you grew weak in the knees whenever miles deepened his voice while speaking to you, and he definitely used this to his advantage. thank goodness you we’re sitting down because lord knows if you were standing, you wouldn’t be able to hold yourself together without bending over backwards for him.

your eyes wandered to anywhere else in the car, not wanting to see the look on miles face when you said what you were about to say, “i’m your pretty girl.”

“yeah, I know that’s right.”

– i wanna be his pretty girl so bad lol

#earth42 miles #miles morales #miles morales x reader #miles g #prowler miles #spiderman miles morales #across the spiderverse #into the spider verse #earth 42 miles morales #earth 42 miles x reader #miles x reader

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vanwritesfan-fiction · 5 months

Text

Body Like a Back Road

Request: Joe Burrow and reader go on spontaneous road trip during off season.

Warnings: smut (fingering, intercourse), language, mentions of a funeral

A/N: my second stand alone Joe fic! Enjoy!

"In 500 feet, turn right". The voice of the GPS startled you out of your nap, your head knocking against the window as the car went over a pothole. "Ow!" You pressed a hand to the side of your face, grimacing at the sharp pain. Joe snickered as he glanced over at you, his hands flexing open and closed as he balanced them on the top of the steering wheel. "Good, you're awake."

"Where are we?", you grumbled out as you stood up, stretching your arm over your chest in hopes of getting the knot out of your shoulder from sleeping against the door. There were no signs to indicate your current location, and for the past eight hours, everything out of your window looked the same, nothing but trees along each side and the open road.

"We're just outside of St. Louis. At least according to the GPS, but I think I made a couple wrong turns about an hour ago, so I know fuck all where we are." Joe bit at his thumb nail, something he always did when he was stressed. "Great." You whispered, leaning your head against the window. The vibration of the car was lulling you back to sleep, your eyelids growing heavy.

The season was finally over, and after a less than stellar year, Joe was going stir crazy sitting around with nothing to do. He could only hit the gym so many times a day and watch game tape over and over before it started to get boring. When you mentioned to him that you had to travel to Denver to attend the funeral of one of your distant cousins as a favor to your mom, he offered to tag along with you, and against your better judgement you said yes.

Going to a family funeral was something that a boyfriend did for their girlfriend, not for their fuck buddy. You didn't want to give Joe, and honestly, you're own heart, the wrong idea about where you stood, but the thought of making a 17 hour drive alone sounded like torture.

Your relationship with Joe was...complicated, to say the least. You had been friends through college, and for the longest, it was nothing more than that, but when you both ended up in Cincy, Joe was drafted to the Bengals and you had just settled in the city with your first big-girl job, it became something more. You were both lonely, living in a new place, and you leaned on each other for support.

The first time you slept with Joe, you considered it a fluke, a slip up that could easily happen between friends. After months of consistently ending up in bed together, you realized that the two of you were in too deep. Now, a couple years later, it had become more habit than anything else, and you weren't even sure if you could call yourself friends as much as you had become a source of comfort for one another. You knew it was best to end it before anyone got hurt, but for some reason, you just couldn't.

Joe slapped your thigh, making you jump. "Hey, I need you to stay up. This GPS is useless."

"In 200 feet, turn left onto Franklin Street."

"Franklin Street?!" Joe gestured wildly to the left of him. "There is no fuckin' Franklin Street! Does she want me to drive into the woods?" Joe scoffed as he leaned back in his seat. You leaned forward to see there in fact was no Franklin Street, chuckling to yourself. "Don't let her get to you, J. You know she's not real, right?"

"Ya know what...its not even the GPS, its your damn car. Piece of junk." He slapped the console, the volume dial falling out of place. You grabbed it, shoving it back onto its slot. "Hey, Darla has been there for me since I was 16. She is a classic." Truthfully, Darla was hanging on by a thread, and the last time you brought her to a mechanic they offered you $200 for her to use for scraps, but you didn't have the money for a new or gently used car right now, and as long as you didn't go over 50 mph, she drove fine.

"A classic piece of shit", he mumbled under his breath, earning a slap on the arm from you. "Shit!", he rubbed at his chest, "do you wanna drive? 'Cause I can pull over right now."

"Funny, because she wasn't a piece of shit all of the times we were doin' it in the backseat." You propped your feet on the dashboard.

"Yeah, good times." Joe's ran his fingers through his hair nervously, his face starting to heat up. He was glad you went back to sleep so you couldn't see him start to sweat.

"Wake me up when we get to Kansas." You grabbed Joe's hat from the dashboard, pulling it over your eyes to block out the evening sun.

****

The next few hours went by like a dream as you went in and out of consciousness, listening to Joe's terrible singing along to the Hamilton soundtrack as he managed to eat through all of the snacks you packed for a two day drive.

You took in a deep breath as you woke up to darkness, the overhead light blinding you as you rubbed your eyes to try to focus your vision. As soon as you noticed you were alone, the driver's door was wide open, and Joe was gone, you began to panic.

"Joe! Joe, where are you? This isn't funny!" All horror movie protocol went out of the window as you unbuckled and climbed out of the car.

"Joe!" Silence. You grabbed your phone out of your back pocket and turned on the flashlight as you rounded the back of the car, illuminating the eerie thicket of trees you were parked next to. "Joe, I swear to God, if you're hiding somewhere I'm gonna kill you." You took a step forward, jumping as you heard a twig snap beneath your feet. You held your breath, feeling your pounding heartbeat in your ears as you listened for any sound of life. Again, silence.

"You know what? I'm just gonna assume you're already dead and keep it pushing." You called out to the open. You had seen Friday the 13th enough times to know there was no way you were going to outrun anyone. You turned back to the car, noticing a figure flash by out of the corner of your eye.

"BOOO!!" Joe jumped out from behind the car, his arms swinging above his head to appear terrifying. You collided with him, bouncing off of his strong frame, and landed on your ass.

"Ha! You should have seen your face!" Joe bellowed over with laughter as you stood and dusted the dirt off of your pants, a scowl on your face. "Fuck, that was so worth it." He wiped a tear from the corner of his eye.

You shoved him, hard, making his back hit the car. "What the hell were you even doing? Why did we stop?" You opened the trunk and grabbed a sweatshirt out of your bag, feeling the chill on your skin as the temperature dropped after dark. "Had to take a piss."

"I feel like we've been driving forever. How far to the motel?" You were beginning to get cranky, your empty stomach contributing to your sour mood. "Still got another two hours until we get to Kansas City and stop for the night." You both got back into the car, but as Joe tried to turn the engine, it only sputtered a couple of times before dying out.

"C'mon", Joe groaned, cranking the key again to no avail. 'Fuck!" He slammed his hand against the steering wheel, hitting the horn. "Your piece of shit car died, Y/N."

"Its not Darla's fault, you probably made her mad stopping in the middle of nowhere."

He pressed his forehead to the wheel. "Please tell me you have roadside assistance."

"Um...define "roadside assistance"?" You had AAA at one point, but let your membership expire when you couldn't afford the monthly payment anymore. "Y/N! What if I wasn't here?! You would have been stranded in the middle of Kansas by yourself with no way to get help!" Joe didn't mean to yell at you, but just the thought of you being out here alone was stressing him out.

"Good thing you're here, then." You harmlessly placed a hand on his thigh to reassure him as you scrolled the internet for tow trucks. Neither of you realized that Joe had grabbed your hand in his, interlacing your fingers. As you rose your head, feeling him massaging your fingers mindlessly as he stared ahead, you felt your stomach flip. "Joe", you uttered out, waiting for him to look at you.

"Oh, sorry." He snatched his hand back, running his fingers through his blonde locks. He didn't even realize he had done it. You were his safe place, and touching you brought him comfort in a way that he really didn't understand himself. You were no stranger to his touch, but it was always in the name of getting off.

"I think I found a place a couple miles away. ETA is...2 hours." You let out a frustrated sigh. Waiting two hours for a two truck meant you weren't going to see a shower or bed anytime soon. You desperately wanted to wash this road trip off with the hottest water a hotel shower could produce.

Joe leaned his seat back, the worn leather creaking underneath him as he sunk down, crossed his arms over his chest and closed his eyes. "What are you doing?", you asked, shifting in your seat to face him.

"What does it look like?"

"You can't fall asleep. What if some monster comes and snatches me out of my window?" You were partly kidding, partly terrified that would actually happen. "That's not gonna happen", he huffed, "I'm not that lucky." You scoffed, throwing your feet over his lap. "You need to stay up and keep me company. Those are the rules of the roadtrip."

"Please. I just drove eight hours, five of which you were asleep."

"Joe, please. Just until the tow truck gets here."

"Fine. Tell me about your cousin. Were you close?", Joe hummed, scratching his nose. "Technically she's my mom's cousin, and no, I've never met her. My mom was close with her at one time, but they lost touch years ago. I'm just going to represent the family."

Joe opened an eye to peek at you. "You're going all the way to Denver for someone you've never met?"

"Why do you sound so shocked? I can do things out of the kindness of my heart." You clutched your chest dramatically, but Joe just chuckled, dropping his shoulders in a sigh. "It's just... ya know what? Nevermind."

"What? Tell me."

"Its just...are you sure that's all that it is? In all the time I've known you, you do things out of comfort. I'm not saying its a bad thing, but this isn't like you." He was looking at you know, his blue eyes illuminated by the orange hued overhead lighting. He was staring into your soul, like he was trying to pull something out of you, and you squirmed underneath the scrutiny.

Your head snapped when you saw a pair of headlights coming down the road, but it was just a passing car. "We have had sex in this car so many times, because you don't even want to come to my place most of the time." You turned back to Joe, whose eyes were closed again.

You bit at your bottom lip. You never realized anyone was paying attention to you that closely, especially not Joe. "I've been thinking a lot about the things I've settled for in my life, and this felt like a breath of fresh air, something different. I'm going a funeral, but I'm also getting out of Ohio for a minute."

Your words hit Joe like a ton of bricks. He quickly sat up. "Are you thinking about leaving Ohio?"

"Eventually", you shrugged. "You didn't think I'd be there forever did you?" you giggled, playing with the hem of your sweatshirt. "I mean, I guess, I- didn't give it much thought." Joe let in a sharp breath to stop his fumbling. He did think you'd be there forever, or at least, he always thought you'd be there as long as he was.

"Don't worry, I'm sure you'll find a new fuck buddy", you said in jest, crossing your legs one over the other. Joe felt his throat go dry, his skin crawling in the silence. He was desperate to change the subject and get his mind off all of the terrible possibilities. "How much longer?"

You checked your phone. "Still got another hour. I'm starving. Did you really eat all of the snacks?" You sat up and crawled into the back of the car to search the bags you packed. "Really, Joe, even my Cheetos? Aren't you on some sort of athlete diet?" You threw the empty bag at him, the plastic hitting him in the face. "I was hungry." He tried to go to the sleep to the sound of you rummaging behind him.

"Hey, look what I found." Joe opened his eyes to see a gold-wrapped condom dangling in front of his face. "I have an idea of how we can pass the time", you whispered in his ear, making him shiver. "If you're not too tired."

"Fuck it." With a grunt, he ripped the condom out of your hands, and took it between his teeth as he unbuttoned his jeans. You frantically climbed to the front, stripping off your sweatshirt before climbing over him to straddle his legs. You turn off the overhead light, moonlight pouring over both of you through the window.

Goosebumps rose on your skin as you pulled him in for a messy kiss, your skin on fire even though seconds ago you were freezing. As you made out, his hands trailed around your waist, inching closer and closer to your spine before his large hands slid down the small of your back and grabbed rough handfuls of your ass, his fingers digging into your delicate skin as your back arched.

He began to move your hips slowly back and forth, making you grind against his pelvis, but he was going too slow for your taste, so you grabbed at his hands, circling your hips against him with an eagerness that had his hips bucking from sensitivity. You could feel him grow hard quickly against your inner thigh, letting out little moans into your mouth as your lips lingered together.

'Y/N, honey-", Joe could barely get the words out, his chest heaving with each breath. "What?", you huffed out without losing your pacing. "What's the rush?", His brow knitted together in pain as his cock rubbed against his zipper. "The tow truck is gonna be here any minute." Joe nodded, holding you in place. You backed away from him, pushing the hair that was stuck to his face with sweat out of his eyes. "We're having sex. I'd like to have use of my dick afterwards, okay?"

You giggled, pulling him by the collar of his shirt for another kiss, alternating between sucking on his top and bottom lips. You moved your hips again, this time with more control, focusing on the friction against your clit with each movement. "Better?", you questioned, only earning a moan from Joe. You could feel yourself growing wet, your panties soaked as you built your orgasm off of friction alone. Joe fumbled with the button of your shorts, sliding his hand down your front, feeling the wetness pooled against the cotton fabric.

"Shit, I didn't realize you were so ready." He toyed with the band of your panties, snapping the elastic against your skin. "Take these off." You lifted yourself off of Joe's lap, settling in the passenger seat, and shuffled your shorts and panties down your legs, kicking them into the back seat. Joe pulled you back onto his lap, eliciting a squeal from you, and in a single breath, he has you writhing on top of him again, his thumb pressing against your clit as he draws agonizingly circles around the sensitive bud.

"Fuck, fuck, don't stop." You hiss, guiding his fingers to drag through your drenched folds, humping against his hand. He slides one of his large digits inside of your pussy, feeling you clench around him, your muscles pulsing as he begins to thrust in and out of you. He slips another finger inside, and you feel the stretch, taking deep breaths as he hooks his fingers and strokes against your cushiony ceiling.

Watching your face contort with pleasure, your chest bouncing in front of him with your head thrown back has him at a loss for words, desperate to get his hands on every inch of you. He helps you get your shirt off over your head, reaching behind your back to easily unclasp the hooks of your bra with his free hand, exposing your budding nipples to the cold air.

Joe leans forward, flicking his tongue against your nipple, and ghosting wet kisses between your breasts. You move back instinctively when he nips at your skin, but he pulls you aggressively back, hungry to feel you in his mouth again. "Feels so good, baby." Expletives are rolling off your tongue as he sucks harder on your nipples. Your hands find the back of his head, your fingernails raking against his scalps as he moves down to your stomach, pressing a kiss right above your belly button as you lean against the steering wheel.

He pulls out of you, your wetness glistening on his fingers. Without hesitation, you take both of his fingers into your mouth, pressing them against your tongue. "You look so fuckin' beautiful like this", he grunts out, his mouth slightly agape as he watches you. Instead of your usual bashfulness at his dirty talk, you hold eye contact with him, your eyelids heavy with lust as you lick him clean, popping his index finger against your lips as you pull them out.

"Fuck, lift your hips." He instructs, racing against his internal clock, like he'll cum in his pants if he doesn't have you now. You do as he says, cupping your chest as he fumbles for the discarded condom, finding it in the cupholder. He unbuckles his belt and pushes his jeans and boxers down to his knees, his pink cock springing free and resting against his lower stomach. You salivate at the engorged vein that travels from the base of his cock to the tip, which is leaking pre-cum.

"Hurry up!" You playfully push him, turning to look over your shoulder for any tow trucks or stray cars, but its obvious the two of you are alone out here. He rips the foil wrapper with his teeth, and removes the condom, rolling it down his length. He wraps his hands around the base of his cock as you slowly sink down on him, taking him inch by inch until you bottom out with a loud moan. "Oh, fuck."

He pulls at the manual recline handle and goes flying back, landing against the backseat with a thud, hitting the back of his head against the headrest. "I fuckin' hate this car", he mumbles, quickly forgetting about the ancient vehicle and his injury as you begin to bounce on his dick, the sound of your ass slapping against his thighs audible, quickly drowned out by the squelching of your wetness as he slips in and out of you.

Joe can't focus on anything but how good you feel and how good you look on top of him, your silhouette illuminated in the moonlight, his hands grazing against the curve of your waist and hips. You feel your legs start to fatigue so you lean forward, resting your hands on his chest, feeling the contours of his muscles underneath your palms.

He takes the opportunity to worship your body as you ride him, placing kisses on your arms and chest while you're too blissed out to even notice. "So fuckin good, baby. You're doin' so fuckin' good", he praises you over and over, which has you hurdling toward your orgasm, feeling the coil tighten in your core.

"Joe", you whimper out, your pace slowing as you tire. "I've got you", he remarks, sliding his hands underneath your thighs to hold you up while he snaps his hips into you, making you take him to the hilt each time. He strokes your g-spot in perfect succession each time and you're sure you won't last much longer. "I'm-I'm gonna cum." You bite out, your words vibrating through your bouncing chest, your nails digging into his pecs, leaving red marks. He increases his pace, hitting against your cervix, the car squeaking and shaking side to side as you come undone, your release washing over you with waves of pleasure.

Joe's right behind you, his face scrunched tight as he feels every muscle in his body contract, "Fuck, I'm gonna cum", he warns just in time, and you pepper kisses against his jawline as his hips stutter. You try to kiss him, but he can only draw in sharp breaths as he releases into you, residual muscle pulses from your orgasm milking him for every drop.

Completely spent, he draped an arm around your back, pulling your weight down on his body. Your chests heave in succession as you come down from your high and try to catch your breath. You lazily kiss his cheek with a smile. "Fuck, that was-"

"I love you." You both were silent, the declaration hanging in the air. Joe was shocked at the words as if they didn't come out of his own mouth. You lifted your head to look at him, your hands still clamped around his face. "What did you say?"

"What?" Joe responded, in immediate denial. He tried to look away, but you turned his head back to you. You heard your phone vibrating in the passenger seat but you ignored it, unable to take your eyes off of him. His face was soft, genuine, his eyes very telling. He meant what he said.

Your phone vibrated for a second time. "Its probably the tow truck. You should get that." Joe was desperate for a reprieve. "Yeah." You shook your head and climbed off his lap, grabbing your phone to answer it. "Hello? Yes, we're around mile marker 152. Okay." You hurriedly put your clothes back on, Joe watching you through the rear view mirror the entire time. He could physically see you trying to process what had just happened, and he honestly wished he'd never said anything. He wasn't sure if he loved you, he was too lost in the moment, thinking with his dick instead of his head.

"They'll be here in five." Your words jogged Joe out of his trance. He nodded and got out of the car, desperate for air. You needed to talk about what happened, but right now, you just wanted to focus on getting your car towed and getting to the nearest hotel so you could get some sleep.

The ride in the tow truck was uncomfortably quiet. You rested your head against the window, your arms crossed over your chest to create as much distance between the two of you as possible, desperate to close your eyes even for a few minutes. Joe glanced over at you multiple times in the short five mile ride to the hotel. He raked a hand through his messy hair, moving to stroke his jawline, the guilt of catching you off guard and professing his love for you in the heat of the moment, gnawing at him.

The hotel was very basic, no amenities and didn't even a continental breakfast, and wasn't really up to Joe's standards, but it was the only one in town, so he'd settle for it just for the night. He stood in the lobby and watched you as you checked in, making light conversation with the desk attendant.

Maybe if he just denied it, or avoided talking about it, you two could move past this, and it could all be a bad memory.

He felt a lump build in his throat as you walked toward him. Seeing the distress on your face, he knew there was no way you were getting over this anytime soon. "Look, Y/N-"

Your face was stoic as you threw your bag over your shoulder. You shoved a key card in his direction without a word. "Goodnight, Joe." He watched you walk away, flipping the key card in his hand.

What the hell had he just done?

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#joe burrow #joeburrow #joe burrow fanfiction #joe burrow fan fic #joe burrow fanfic #joey burrow #joey b #nfl imagine #nfl fanfiction #nfl fanfic #nfl smut #joe burrow smut

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lust444men · 3 months

Note

hiiiii i love your blog so much😭😭😭💕💕💕 I absolutely love this mechanic of sending requests🤭🤭

🌶 ex!hobie like an enemies to lover to enemies to lovers again omg does that make sense?😭

anyways have a gorgeous day/night <33 love u!💋

a/n finally starting this. I hope I do it justice for you, doll! I tried my best. I luv this idea sm! I fr and lowk did the plot of 10 things I hate ab you...warnings: praise, small degrading? mocking, p n v, slightly cunty hobie ngl, fem!reader, manhandling, slight dumbification? tad bit angsty, language obvi, angry/make-up sex

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹

you and hobie had a very difficult relationship. you hated each other all through secondary school, despised each other when you chose the same college, but by second year, you guys were dating. And in love. Or, so you thought. You had been dating each other for a little over eight months, and it was great. until you overheard his mates talking amongst themselves in the halls a few weeks ago.

"ya' owe Spike £50! he made 'er fall in love."

"But i' lasted more than a month! Tha' means I get £70." and other chatter, but by then your ears were ringing so loud you couldn't hear them.

you've never felt your heart drop deeper than that. since then, you had been avoiding Hobie like the damn plague. Every text, call, ignoring him in the halls, lessons. He didn't exist to you no more. you should've known, really. it was hobie. he didn't care about others' feelings. you thought he was in love with you...even though he never said those words, you thought the way he looked at you..spoke to you..touched you, held all his feelings. Guess you were fucking wrong.

you were walking home from college, your heart still heavy weeks later. you felt betrayed. but who were you to think Hobie could be a genuine, nice, committed person?

he's the same guy who threw a dictionary at your head in year 10.

you got dragged out your thoughts by someone following behind you, and you immediately recognised the thumping boots on the pavement.

"Oi! Wai' up." Hobie barked, his lanky stature making him next to you in no time. "The fuck is going on wit' you? Ya've been ignoring me fo' weeks!" He said, his hands shoved into his pockets.

"You noticed? Colour me surprised." You scoffed, not even looking at him, despite feeling his eyes bore into you. his face scrunched, eyes narrowing.

"A'ight, the fuck 'as gotten you into such a foul mood?" He asked curtly. You ignored him, letting out an incredulous huff. He really doesn't know what he did? What a dick.

You walked up the steps of your house, hearing him quickly follow you as you unlocked the door. Nobody was home, that'd be good if you get into a screaming match with hobie. You left the door open for him, knowing he'd just let himself in either way.

"Ya gonna fuckin' speak to me, or what?" He scoffed, slamming the door shut with his foot before approaching you. You couldn't help yourself.

"How much money did you get?" you spun round, throwing your bag to the armchair, along with your keys as you stared at him. You saw his face twitch, anger leaving, confusion and...worry replacing it.

"Wha'? What're you talkin' 'bout?" He asked, brows pinching together. "How much money did you get when you bet that you could get me to date you?" You reiterated, extending it so his simple brain could click. You watch his face fall, and it almost made you laugh at his dumbfounded face.

"W-wait — baby, it's not wha' you think." He panicked, reaching out for you and winced when you slapped his hands away.

"Oh, fuck off with that. I don't wanna hear it. I was just a bet to you, all this time? Everything we ever did, every kiss, every touch, every fuck, every date — a lie." You rambled, your emotions getting the better of you, eyes filling with tears as you stared at him, gesturing wildly.

"Shh shh, ay — calm down -"

"Don't tell me to calm down!"

"Calm down then." You glared at him. "You're a fucking joke. I wish we never dated. It was all a fucking bet to you! I was just some extra cash!" You yelled.

"Not anymore." His voice raised above yours, startling you. He never shouts at you — not really. "The fuck is that supposed to mean? Not anymore?" You hissed, your brows furrowing together as your nose scrunched. "Just stop fuckin' talking! You're making no sense, Hobart, you're literally so fuckin' st—" you got rudely cut off by his lips smashing against yours, his hands on your cheeks.

You tried your hardest not to melt into him, the two sides of your head wrestling. You haven't felt his kisses in weeks, you missed them. but on the other hand, it's probably fake. that gave you enough courage to put your hands flat against his chest and shove him away, shaking your head as you wiped your lips, as if you were getting rid of his kiss.

"No, no! You don't get to kiss me and —..and think everything's okay! It's not! You're a selfish, self centered, rude, arrogant cunt. These last eight months were a waste of my time. I could've been fucking alot hotter in this time." Your words flew out your mouth before you even had time to truly consider them, but honestly? he deserved that. you watched him stare at you, his eyes darkening but his breathing surprisingly calm.

He moved towards you, you stepped back, he stepped forward, until your back hit the wall. his hand gripped your jaw, forcing your head up to him as you let out a quiet grunt.

"Tha' so? Jus' a big ol' waste of time for ya?" He asked lowly, tilting his head at you as his stature blocked out anything else.

"Was just a bet to you," you shrugged. "so, why you throwin' a fit?" you watch him run his tongue along the inside of his cheek, glancing off briefly before his eyes dragged back to you.

"Lemme tell you sum, doll. You're real fuckin' stupid." his lips crashed back against yours in an aggressive, but needy kiss. His hand on your jaw drifted through your hair to the back of your head, forcing you close to him. you kiss back absentmindedly, your hands finding purchase on his shoulders, balling his shirt in your hand and yanking him flush against you, making him groan.

His free hand trailed down, fumbling with your jean button and pulling them down to your mid thigh before he pulled away from the kiss. He gripped your hair, not tightly, but enough to maneuver you to the sofa, bending you over the arm rest. you gasp, your hands bracing yourself and attempting to push yourself off the armrest, only to be pushed back down by Hobie's large, calloused hand between your shoulder blades.

"Stay down. Lemme do my shit." He huffed, sounding fed up as he practically ripped off your panties. you shivered at the cool air, feeling his hands pull down the rest of your jeans, spreading your legs.

"Ya' could've fucked hotter, y'say? Can hotter make you cum fifteen times in one night?" He scoffed, grabbing a handful of your ass, making you huff.

"Oh, fuck off with that already. It happened one time!" you tilted your head back at him, watching him fumble with his belt, dipping his hand into his briefs.

"Don' look at me like tha'. Might jus' hit tha' score again." his breath hitched as he swiped his tip through your folds, making your eyes flutter shut. Three weeks and no sex, and definitely not in the mood to touch yourself, it's safe to say you're pretty pent up.

"Please," you whisper, feeling his tip repeatedly hit your clit, making you jolt or twitch each time.

"Please, wha'? Please forgive me for bein' a miscommunicating bitch? Please forgive me for not talking to you? Please fuck me?" He mocked, watching as you glare at him and grind your teeth.

"The last one." You hissed. You had no reason to apologise! who the fuck did he think he is?

"Ah, righ'. The impor'an' one." He lined himself up with your entrance, tucking his pierced bottom lip in his teeth, sinking into you with a throaty groan from himself and a whimper from you.

"Fuck. I fuckin' missed you. You n this pussy s'bad." He drawled, already pussy drunk. You clawed at the sofa, feeling his hand force your back to arch as he set a steady pace, watching him disappear inside you, the view hypnotising.

"Oh, fuck. Hobie — Hobie!" you squealed, hands fumbling to grip onto something - settling on a nearby cushion. The armrest of the sofa was right at your lower abdomen, pushing on the bulge of him, heightening the pleasure. He speeds up, a bruising grip on your hips, huffy growls spilling his mouth as he watched how your ass jiggled everytime his hips snapped against yours.

"Yeahh, tha's wha' I thought. Ya' jus' needed to get dumb on my dick again, didncha?" He mockingly cooed, slapping your ass.

"Sh-shut the fuck up n jus' fuck me." You scoffed, leaning back to hold his arm, purposefully digging your nails into his forearm alot harder than needed. He grabbed your arm, pinning it to your back.

"Oh? Still talkin' tha' talk, eh?" he smirked, making his strokes slower but harder and deeper, watching how your eyes flutter before rolling to the back of your head. he grinned.

"oh shiit. feels s'good - fuck." you whined, burying your face into the sofa. he hummed, running his hands over your waist.

"Yeah, I know. I fuck ya' dumb, don' I?" He rhetorically asked, not expecting much of an answer as his thrusts finally sped back up, hitting that sweet spot inside of you, making your legs shake. "Hobie - shit. can I come? please?" You whined, pushing your hips to meet his with a loud gasp. Fuck, your head was spinning. You swear you could see white spots in your closed eyes.

"C'mon. Be a good girl, y'got it. Tha'sss it. Fuck, yeah, cum all over this dick, sweetheart." He coaxed you through your well pent up orgasm, your loud moans bouncing off the walls.

"Fuck, look at her. Always coverin' me in her mess." He hummed, pulling out of you and watching your release drip down. He softly grabbed you, sliding you up the sofa so you were now sat on his lap, too dazed to even feel his still hard cock resting just below your wet, throbbing cunt. You were panting, unfocused until you felt his finger tap your cheek.

"Cmon. I gotta talk t'ya'." He murmured, his other hand rubbing your back. "M'listening." He sucked in a harsh breath.

"Yes, you started as a bet," He began, feeling your body tense. "But, but. You're not anymore. It was selfish, yes, i know. And I regre' i' everyday, n' 'specially not tellin' you 'bout it. I fell in love with you. I am in love with you. Which is why 'it went on for so long'. It got real. m' infatuated wit' ya, my luv." He explained, his perfect face scrunched up as he thought carefully. you could cry. he just fucked your brains out, now he's giving you a love confession.

"I love you, sweetheart." He added in a soft whisper, glancing down at you. You guys hadn't said i love you yet. But he just did. After fucking your brains out. Romantic. You leant up, sniffling softly as you placed a quick kiss to his lips."You promise?"

"I pinky fuckin' swear it. cross my heart, hope to die." He kissed you lovingly, his hand on your cheek as he did so, the other hand trailing up your thigh, his thumb just brushing over your sensitive clit. you broke the kiss, gasping softly.

"what're you doin'?" you asked, feeling him rub small circles onto your clit, making your hands grip his shoulders.

"we got fourteen more ta go, baby."

#christi's posts #‧₊🫧꒷꒦‧₊˚⋆lust444men #christi's list #hobie brown smut #hobie brown #hobie smut #hobie x reader #spider man: across the spider verse #spider punk #hobie brown my love #hobie spiderverse #hobie brown x reader #atsv hobie #astv miguel #miguel o'hara smut #miguel o'hara #astv miles #miles morales

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nvoirs · 1 year

Note

IVE BEEN SUMMONED. please please please write smut of re2 leon literally anything i was thinking like a quickie blowjob or handjob while the police chief is in the next room and he’s just like please be quiet i don’t wanna embarrass myself rnnnn </3

live laugh love re2 Leon.

From the outside, It just looked like you were being a sweet girlfriend who was innocently visiting her hard-working boyfriend with a box of cookies you baked as a late snack so he'd have something to run on staying so late finishing off the stupid paperwork that was keeping him from his personal life.

But on the inside, oh boy Leon just couldn't help but allow you to take good care of him. You pulled his work pants down slowly as he kept a look out at the empty office door as you took him into the warm palm of your hands.

“Fuck look at you baby boy so gorgeous.” Admiring his massive dick was a must when you were about to suck off Leon. Your mouth watered for his heavy dick to slap against your tongue lolling out in the process.

You rubbed his shaft a few times, pumping and readying him. His body turned to putty in your hands, as he quietly whimpered, hands gripping the edge of his work desk.

“Wait baby, please go slowly- ngh chief is next door.” Oh? So that's why he kept wildly looking around acting as if someone ought to burst through the door screaming ha! caught you! You shushed him gently bringing one hand to his dishevelled, golden locks running a hand through them before cupping his rosy cheek in your hand.

“You can practise being quiet for when I give you a hand in the speech room with the microphone on.” Your wide grin made Leon's eyes widen, because knowing you he didn't know if you were being serious or not. You didn't wait for a reply before taking his angry red tip drooling with precum into your awaiting mouth.

“Mmph.” You quietly savoured your meal, before beginning to bob your head, quickening the pace considerably. Leon let a deep guttural grow before cursing himself knowing the police chief was next door.

“Better stay quiet handsome, don't want to get caught by the chief now do we Leon?” His keen jerked nods made you smile through a mouthful of his cock protruding itself out of your saliva filled mouth. You hollowed your cheeks as you thrusted Leon's cock inside your wet gob wanting him to squirt his cum rapidly.

“Faster, faster.” His whines cranked up a little, his large hand gripping onto your free hair falling into your eyes. The sharp slam of the next door made both of you freeze. Shit were you actually going to get caught? The adrenaline excited you so much you hadn't realised Leon was roughly rutting his hips up against your soaked mouth. Bucking his hips inwards he let out a wayward moan as you continued to swirl your wet tongue across his shaft. His breathing became raspy, and his thrusts began to die down in your mouth about to release his thick, warm spurts of cum when a mellow voice was heard in the corridor outside.

“Goodnight, just going to say night to the officers left next door reminding them they can’t sleep here.” A chuckle followed by heavy footsteps made you slip Leon’s cock from your mouth, crawling under the desk tugging him to pull up his pants and he did so cockhead still leaking precum like crazy as he sat at his desk silently pen in hand.

The door knob turned and the police chief led his way into the room, his eyes observed before landing on Leon.

“Ah! Leon, what a pleasant surprise.”

“Sir.” Leon gave him a small smile still painfully hard in his boxers. You internally rolled your eyes as the police chief began making small talk with Leon.

“Heard a pretty little lady came looking for you at the reception desk.” He said teasingly. Leon laughed awkwardly, “Yeah that was my girlfriend, sir. She came to drop off some stuff she baked.” He gestured to the cookies on the table.

“Got yourself a pretty girl, and someone who can cook? My my you’ve won the jackpot my boy. I didn’t really expect a rookie like yourself to snag such a pleasant young lady.” You narrowed your eyes at the police chief offended for Leon’s sake, you could smell the putrid odour of cigarette smoke surrounding him and you scrunched your nose in disgust.

You were growing impatient and really wanted to pop your head up and tell him to fuck off, but that would be risking Leon's job and career so you restrained yourself jaw clenching uncontrollably. Reaching out you grabbed Leon's boner, palming the erect cock in your hands wanting him to cum. He let a wheezed gasp just as he'd said goodbye to the chief, the chief turned around confused just as Leon had cummed in his pants you hugged his legs tightly not wanting him to move as you felt the heat radiating of his skin.

“Did you say something rookie?”

“No sir i- just said goodnight.” The fake smile plastered across his adorable face worked wonders on the chief as he waved him of.

“See you tommorow then, don't be late!” And he was gone before you knew it. You let go of the breath you were holding in as you got up from under the table.

“Gosh Leon, so desperate that you quite literally cummed in your pants.” You giggle, staring at the wet stain right in the middle.

“I couldn't hold it baby, good thing I've got some spare pants in my locker.”

“Okay let's go get you cleaned up sweetheart, maybe round 2 in the showers?”

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