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#again it probably raises more questions than it answers but it makes me feel things so ive accepted it as canon.
luveline · 5 months
Note
i lowkey need to see stripper!reader and spencer again
for you gorgeous ♡ fem
cw adult themes
Hotch and Spencer draw attention at the strip club for the same reason but in varied fonts. They're both reminiscent of your regulars, Hotch the picture of a businessman with a wife to forget and steam to blow, and Spencer the silent sweetheart, pretty but too shy to talk to normal girls. 
He doesn't need a normal girl when he has you. 
You're glad for your cover up clothes as you lean against the dressing room door. One of the bouncers peers at you from the corner of his eye. 
"Trouble?" he asks. 
"Not sure. Probably not." You wave until Agent Hotchner notices you. To your delight, he raises his hand politely. 
You step around the bouncer and bypass the stage to the lighter area of the club where they stand in wait. "Hello. I could've met you outside." 
"Would you?" Agent Hotchner asks. 
You don't need him to explain. It's not the most professional thing, loitering in a club like this. You follow them out of the club and onto the street, cold even in your sweatpants as the wind rails. Spencer lets you squeeze his fingers in greeting, but that's all. 
"It's nice to see you again, Agent Hotchner," you say honestly, giving him a smile. 
He doesn't return the pleasantry, but Spencer swears he's softer than he looks so you choose to run with it as Agent Hotchner says, "We need information on one of your patrons." 
"Tennis Lawley," Spencer adds. 
"Tennis," you repeat. "I thought my pseudonym was bad."
Spencer gives you a quick look. I'd laugh if I weren't at work, it says. "We think he's involved in a string of killings in Washington DC. What do you know about him?" 
It's not an exaggeration to say you've played therapist for Tennis and a ton of guys just like him. Being a stripper, an exotic dancer, whatever anyone wants to call it (though Spencer usually just calls it your work) has pros and cons. You've felt it to be heavier on the con side, but this is a big plus, being able to assist someone you care about with something important. It makes you feel useful for once, like you're more than the froth of the city. "Ask me anything," you say, hiding your cheek from the cold with a deft hand. 
Spencer and Agent Hotchner ask you all sorts of questions, personal to their suspect and less so, and for the most part you're able to answer them. You can tell from the look on Hotchner's face that he's both surprised and extremely satisfied by your knowing, and he emphasises his thankfulness with a touch to your upper arm before he says goodbye. "Your help is invaluable, Y/N, thank you." 
Spencer, your sweetheart, stays for a more thorough farewell. 
"Have you eaten yet today?" he asks, the hand you'd squeezed earlier leaping for yours. "You look tired." 
"It's getting close to midnight, Spence. I'm alright. You and Agent Hotchner should head home and rest yourselves…" You bring your hand to his cheek but think better of yourself, pushing your arm over his shoulder instead for a hug. His own arms contract around you immediately. "I miss you lately, where have you been?" 
"Everywhere. I miss you too," he says. Despite the months of knowing one another, and the many states he's seen you in, you know without looking that Spencer is blushing profusely. 
You kiss his cheek as your heels return to safe ground. "Come and see me again soon, okay? And bring your rich friends. The older one, Rossi, is he really a millionaire? A divorced one?" 
"Yes, he is," Spencer says with a laugh, his voice climbing higher, "but I don't think he's looking for another wife right now, sorry." 
"Maybe Agent Hotchner–" 
"Stop calling him that." 
You look Spencer straight in the eye, nearly caught off guard by how sweet and soft they meld at your touch where your hands linger in his. 
You often think that you and Spencer aren't meant to be. Your life, whether willing or unwilling, by choice or design, is entirely focused around your body, and Spencer's world revolves around his mind. You know that what you do for work isn't anything to be ashamed of, but you have the same doubts as anyone else. You know what people think of you. You wouldn't blame Spencer for thinking the same things. And you wouldn't expect him to want to be with you in any aspect that wasn't physical. 
But when he holds your hands in his like this, as though they're made of something delicate, something he wants to map every detail or by fingertip alone, you wish things were different. 
You clear your throat. "I really do miss you when you're away," you confess. 
"I'm sorry." 
"Don't be." Your hands miss his the millisecond you pull them away. "I guess I shouldn't keep you. Your boss will be wondering where you are." 
"Are you okay?" 
You can't even pretend it's a strange question; you're acting strange. "I'm fine, Dr. Reid. My nice new boss knows I know the feds, and all the girls are jealous of me when you guys come to visit. They think I'm on your payroll." 
Spencer quirks a puzzled frown, brows pulled together tightly. "You're harder to read than most people. Have I ever told you that?" 
"I guess it's 'cos I spend so much time pretending I'm a different person," you say, smiling to prompt him into smiling back. 
"Maybe." He pulls his bag from where it rests against his hip and opens it, rummaging through the contents with a confused murmur until he pulls out the shape he'd been looking for. "Here. Don't go to bed hungry, okay?" 
Spencer puts a protein bar in your hand. 
He steals a quick hug and leaves not long after that, crossing the dark parking lot to the mass of the dark SUV he arrives in. With one hand, you clutch the protein bar until it takes a new shape, and with the other you blow two sweet kisses, a cheesy, gaudy gesture that never fails to make your favourite special Agent blush. 
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yungbludz · 4 months
Text
Look At Me — TAA
AUTHOR: brainstorming with @hamiltonvuitton always brings out the worst out of us
SUMMARY: she’s trying to be professional… he isn’t
WARNINGS: sexual tension, nsfw content, +18
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gif creds to @trentione
“Man of the match and scorer of the equalizer. It must feel good, right?” You smile at the young player who is standing in front of you, moving your microphone so it’s a few inches away from his lips. Trent smiles as well when you mention his goal. You’ve met quite a few times, working as an interviewer in the Premier League meant having interviewed a few players more than once.
“Yea, ‘course. Feels amazing. Especially in a stadium like this one.” He can’t stop smiling and it’s endearing. You are a professional so you would never even admit it to your closest friend, but Trent has one of the prettiest smiles you’ve ever seen and it puts you in a good mood to see him so content with his performance.
“Would you say this is one of the toughest crowds in the League? And if so, how do you prepare for a match like this?” You read from your notebook before looking up and looking into his eyes. Trent smiles again and nods.
“Probably. They just won the tremble so of course it’s going to weigh differently from any other match. I think it’s really about mentality. We have probably one of the best teams in the league this year— if not the best. So on paper we could do it. But you have to count the mental part of it. If you walk in on the pitch with the wrong mindset, you’re going to lose it no matter how good you are.” He explains passionately. You nod, silently agreeing with him. You like Trent’s way of thinking, it always kind of resonates with your opinions. The scouser waits for you ask him another question.
“We have seen you celebrate out there. Can we say you were provoking the Man City fans?” You try not to smile because you know it’s a provocative question, you know he can’t speak his mind up because he’s front of a camera. But as an interviewer you have to ask such questions. Trent chuckles and raises his brows, restricting himself from saying what he really thinks.
“I think scoring in away games is always nice. It’s always good to celebrate in front of the away fans… It’s funny.” He bites his lip to suppress a smile. You give him a knowing look. Trent lets his eyes scan over your frame quickly, taking in your outfit and your face. He’s seen you a few times, he knows your name and he likes your questions most of the times. He’s not very fond of interviews but he feels at ease with you. He’d be blind if he didn’t admit your good looks help him answer more willingly.
“You’ve risen quite the polemics with that goal and celebration. What do you want to say to those who have been questioning your performance?” You ask. It’s a delicate matter. As you look up from your notebook and move the microphone you drop your notes to the ground. Trent is quick at crouching down to pick them up for you. You apologize, your cheeks reddening. He smiles at you. However, it comes out more like a smirk than anything else.
“Nothing really. People are going to criticize you regardless of what you do, so I’d rather let them watch me.” He shrugs his shoulders. There is something about the way he carries himself that makes you question your professionalism.
“One last question: did you rewatch the goal? Did anyone show it to you? If so, what do you think of it looking at it from outside?” You ask.
“I don’t know. Wha do you think of it? Did you like it?” Your cheeks are redder than the Liverpool shirt he’s wearing. His eyes stare right into yours and that cocky grin hasn’t left his lips yet. Is he flirting with you on live television? No, you must be seeing things. Trent licks his lips and nibbles with the bottom one. Your eyes inevitably fall on his mouth. He has kissable lips. It’s not very professional thought but he’s testing your professionalism.
“Uhm, well it was a great goal. I don’t think anyone saw that coming. Not that I don’t think you could do it but it was a tough game out there.” You try so hard not to stutter or accidentally insult him. Trent nods and smiles again, your compliment feeding his ego.
“That’s it. Thank you, Trent, for your time.” Your interview comes to an end and you couldn’t be more glad. You release a sigh of relief once the camera has been switched off. Trent doesn’t move though. You know there must be other colleagues of yours ready and hungry for an interview with him but he doesn’t walk away.
“Y/n, right?— he asks even if he knows your name very well, you nod confused — Good job.” He winks at you before finally leaving. You feel a weight coming off your shoulders. For some reason being under his scrutiny has made you weirdly tense and anxious. Thankfully you’re away from his deep and intimidating gaze. That was weird. You think to yourself as you make your way to the next interview, shrugging that feeling off your shoulders. Be professional. You put on a polite smile and walk towards Erling Haaland.
And out of the window has gone your professionalism.
You are seated on top of the sink in the away team’s locker room. Your legs are spread apart and your heels dig into the scorer of the equalizer for this game’s back. Soft sobs leave your lips as you tighten the grip around the marble sink. You are not even able to consider you may fall if you keep moving. Your head is somewhere else. Whilst Trent’s is between your legs. Your turned off microphone is on the ground next to your jeans.
“Jesus…” your mouth is dry and you can’t help but moan when his nose bumps onto your clit. You don’t know how this could have happened. One minute you are interviewing the Manchester City player and the next one you are getting eaten out by the Liverpool right back. Very professional of you.
“Taste even better than I thought, love.” He admits, his big hands keeping your legs apart. You whine, rutting your hips forward. Trent gives you whatever you want and need. The events preceding this are a blurry memory. Trent saw you and pulled you inside and before you knew it he was kneeling in front of you.
“Trent… Please.” You squirm, his tongue lapping at your juices. He’s rock hard in his Liverpool shorts but he knows he can wait a bit longer if it means prepping you enough to take all of him. He grins when he sees you tilt your head back and push his head impossibly closer.
“I got you, baby.” He squeezes your thighs before slapping them. You whine again, feeling your orgasm building up. He pulls away and watches your juices and his spit covering your pussy. He licks his wet lips and spits again, making sure you’re more lubricated. The mere act makes you gulp.
“You close, love?”
“So close…” you are a whining, writhing and sobbing mess. He sucks your clit between his lips and watches you fall apart for him. Loud moans escaping your mouth with no shame. Maybe you should be more careful but again, your mind is somewhere else. Trent pulls away slowly and raises to his feet. His eyes stay on you. Your breathing is uneven and your eyes are closed. He chuckles lowly, proud of himself.
“I need to fuck you now, pretty girl. Can you take it for me?” He asks, leaning in and smiling against your lips. You nod even if you are not sure you have another round in you. Trent presses his lips against yours, initiating the sloppiest yet hottest kiss ever. You gasp when he sucks on your lower lip, your nails digging in his biceps. You whine in his mouth as Trent takes his time to build up the tension.
“Eager, are we?” He chuckles and pulls away enough to take his top off. He stops for a second and looks at it, before putting it on you. You shake your head in disbelief as you fix the shirt on your body.
“Sweet and professional y/n wearing a Liverpool shirt. Life does not get better than this, does it?” He teases you, but you’re too caught up in staring at his physique to actually bother. The scouser pulls you in for another kiss and you melt in his arms. Your fingers draw unknown patterns on his skin before hooking in the waistband of his shorts. Trent watches you deeply as you push them down his legs.
“Lean backwards for me.” He murmurs and you do as requested. He finally pushes his boxers down enough for his cock to spring free. You stare at his every movement entranced. He pumps himself in his hand whilst yours are itching to touch him.
“Should have a condom somewhere here…” he says more to himself than to you. You don’t even know where he takes that from but he rips the plastic with his teeth and puts it on.
“That Hungarian motherfucker knew I guess.” He shakes his head, reminiscing on the fact that his new teammate and friend has given him a condom ‘just in case some poor woman had the desire to come anywhere near your grumpy ass’. He likes the banter and he definitely appreciates the condom now.
“Look at me.” He mumbles tilting your chin. Your eyes drown in his as he bottoms out inside of you. His legs rest around his middle and they squeeze his waist when he starts moving.
“Fuck.” You cuss, head hitting the mirror behind you. Trent’s hands grip your thighs as he watches his cock disappear in your folds.
“You feel so good…” he grunts, going harder. You sigh, biting your lip. You can feel him anywhere and everywhere. Trent’s forehead rests against your shoulder. You’re almost afraid of falling but his iron grip makes you feel safe.
“Trent…” you moan in his ear. He tenses and cuss under his breath.
“Don’t— I’m not gonna last.” He admits, his teeth sinking in the crook of your neck. You can feel him slip in and out of you each time easier because of how wetter you grow by the time.
“I wanna see you cum, Trent.” You whisper in his ear. You want him to lose it, you want him to lose all the control. Trent clenches his jaw and he hisses. Knowing that you’re not the goody two shoes behind closed doors makes him fuck you harder. You know he has the upper hand, but you also know you have power over him as well. Soft sobs leave your mouth on purpose along with a string of praises that make him twitch inside of you.
“Y/n…” he warns you again, teetering over the edge. You pull his head away from your neck and look at him in the eyes.
“Wanna see you cum, Trent. Please.” You give him doe eyes and he absolutely loses it. He reaches his orgasm faster than desired and curses under his breath. You are definitely a menace. You caress his back as he stabilizes his breathing.
“You didn’t…” he doesn’t need to finish the sentence for you to understand. A devilish smile appears on your lips.
“I didn’t say I was finished with you…”
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redstarwriting · 10 months
Text
the clash | iii. black planet
hobie brown x goth!reader
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word count: 2.5k
genre: enemies to lovers
warnings: language, insults, hobie hating you, you hating hobie, needles mentioned, slight injury from said needle
a/n: is this one long? yes. do i care? no because it was fun to write. it was 3 am when i finished this and make this a draft, so you know i had fun with this chapter. also, i’m about to go into work, so i will probably not be here but i wanted to post it beforehand so i can just worry about working on chapter iv later. and just wanna say i’m grateful to everyone who is reading and interacting with the posts! this has been such a warm welcome back into writing for the marvel universe and i appreciate each and every one of you :)🖤 also i have a question, feel free to answer in the comments or pm me, do i go all the way in the angst for this, or only some angst?
now reading: iii. black planet
previous chapter: ii. time bomb
next chapter: iv. london calling
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You open a portal to your world, and dramatically motion everyone inside. Gwen, Miles, and Pavitr step into it, and you glance at Hobie. “Are you actually coming, then?”
“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” he says sarcastically, stepping into the portal. You enter last, walking until you’re in the familiar darkness of your apartment. “Welcome to my home,” you say, going to your kitchen to get a glass of water. As you’re pouring, you hear one of your guests speak up. “Is that… a real skull…?” Pavitr asks, pointing to a human skull above your fireplace mantle. “Sure is. She’s my aunt,” you say, taking a sip of water. They all look at you with a look that reads ‘is it… that aunt?’
You nod.
It isn’t brought up again.
Hobie sees a vinyl player and immediately walks over to it. He observes the multiple albums and singles and then comes across vinyls that don’t look like they belong to any band in particular. “You press your own vinyl?”
“Obviously. There’s just something better about vinyl than listening to it on my phone, so I press my own playlists,” you say, and Hobie glances up at you. “It sounds more real. Scratches and all, makes it feel authentic,” he says, placing a record on your player and placing the needle on it surprisingly gently. You raise your eyebrow at him. ‘Of course he would get the record thing,’ you think to yourself, ‘he is a guitarist after all.’
“I totally agree,” Gwen says, and you nod. Musician things. Ambient sounds accompanied by faint guitar riffs fill the room. You nod in approval. This is one of your favorite songs. Gwen smiles. “Your place is so fucking cool, (Y/n),” she says, walking over to the crystal ball and various tarot decks you have set up on your kitchen table. “Thanks, I take pride in it,” you say and Hobie makes a noise. “Could be better. Tell me, do you consider any color? Ever? Like what the fuck kind of plants are these that they’re all black?”
“They’re called Raven ZZ plants, and actually, they’re a bright green when new leaves sprout, but no. Color is not for me. The only reason I have the tiniest bit of pastel pink on my spider suit is because I need to continue to throw people off my scent.”
“How d’you reckon a tiny splash a’ color will do that?”
“There are various different types of goth. If I only used my own style, it would make the likelihood of me being me much higher than I would like,” you explain, and Miles looks around. “So… this place haunted?” he asks and you grin. “Yes.”
“Ghosts aren’t fuckin’ real.” Hobie scoffs, and he has to bite back a laugh at how quickly you turn your head to him. He actually does believe in ghosts, just a tiny bit, but doing anything to piss you off has become his new motto. Even if he has to lie.
“Shut the fuck up or I’ll make one of them possess you,” you say icily, and a cold breeze rolls through the room and blows out some of the candles. Pavitr shrieks and jumps into Miles’ arms. Gwen mutters something about that being ‘so cool.’ Hobie looks virtually unimpressed and you two glare at each other until you all get an all too familiar feeling of danger. You all turn your head toward your balcony, and you see an explosion in the distance. “Fuck,” you mumble, jumping into action immediately. You pull your mask on, and jump without a second thought. It’s a new thing when you glance over and see Hobie right by you. “Was that a bomb? Who could that be?” Miles asks and you sigh. “Probably the Green Goblin,” you say, and Hobie opens his mouth to say another sarcastic remark but is cut off when he gets to observe what your swinging is like.
You literally move like the wind. It’s fluid and smooth in nature, and he pays special attention to how you barely make noise when you land on a building to run. It’s actually impressive, and it makes him lose whatever rude comment he thought of. It’s the complete opposite of how he is. Erratic and loud. He doesn’t know whether to respect it or make fun of you for it later. Probably the latter. “Hey (Y/n)? Is the sky normally this dark? I thought it was like 6pm,” Pavitr asks as you all swing and you nod. “The sun is only out for like 2-3 hours a day here,” you respond. “Damn a little sunlight never killed anybody,” Miles says, and you shrug. “Honestly, here it might.”
“Is that why you’re so moody and negative? Only light you get is from the moon?” Hobie asks and you roll your eyes. “Actually, I was born that way. My style of living has nothing to do with my moodiness and realistic outlook,” you shoot back, emphasizing the point of realistic and not negative. He just shakes his head.
You all arrive at the location the explosive went off, and you notice there are still people inside the parking garage that was hit. “We’re on it!” Gwen says, motioning for Pavitr and Miles to follow her. The three of them take off in an instant, and you keep your eyes peeled and ears open to hear the wings of the Green Goblin’s glider. Hobie hangs back, not saying anything for once in his life. Until he gets an uneasy feeling. “Something’s close.”
“I know, idiot, I have the sense too.”
“I was just sayi–”
He’s cut off by a tiny bag of… powder… being thrown between the two of you. You both leap out of the way immediately before it explodes. “Found you!” Hobie hears a maniacal laugh, “Ohhhh and you brought a friend!” The Green Goblin of your universe giggles, and he realizes that the glider she’s on is a giant taxidermy bat accessorized with mechanical elements making it able to fly again. “Not their friend,” he yells at the Goblin before addressing you, “What the actual fuck is ‘at?” Hobie yells and you sigh. “That’s the Green Goblin of my universe, she’s a fucking lunatic who wants to turn me into a taxidermy sculpture and sell me at an art auction.”
“She an Osborn?”
“Yes, Harriet Osborn,” you say, dodging another… bomb? Hobie honestly doesn’t know what the fuck is happening. “Well, I’ve killed one Osborn already, what’s another,” he says, and you make a gasping noise. “Oh no… don’t tell me…”
“We can’t kill Harriet!”
“Why the fuck not?! She’s tryna kill you!”
“Because of personal reasons! You’re not about to come into my world, and kill my villains, asshole!” you scream, and he groans. “Fuckin’ fine. Whatever, we take her down, we don’t kill her,” he says, and you nod. “I take her down. Like I have countless times before.”
“Uh uh uh, I’m here for a reason, we take her down.”
“Gods, fine. Whatever,” you huff and the both of you dodge another explosive. You point to Miles, Gwen, and Pavitr who are motioning to you that they got everyone out of the garage. Without speaking, the two of you develop a plan. You immediately web into the garage, going down to the bottom floor. Of course, your Goblin follows you, completely disregarding Hobie even being there. He follows behind. It’s dark in here, all the lighting has gone out inside and the black sky outside makes it difficult to see. You use the stealth he observed earlier to your advantage. Even he has trouble picking out where you are, and he has super senses. He makes his way to a pillar that supports the garage as quietly as he can, which, luckily, is quiet enough that he goes unnoticed. “Come out, come out, wherever you are,” he hears in a sing-songy voice.
He carefully picks up a rock and glances around the garage. He’s behind a pillar that will help bring the whole thing down, he just needs to deduce which of the other pillars will assist in that. Lucky for him, you’re there too. He hears a noise behind one of the pillars, and sure enough, an explosion soon follows. He quickly realizes where the other weak points are and throws a rock at one of the others. Boom. Explosion. And then one more. He glances to his left to see you right next to him. You both nod at each other, and he hits a power chord. You roll your eyes. “A little flashy, don’t you think,” you say as the two of you leap out of the way and there’s one more explosion. “Not flashy enough, love,” he responds as the garage starts to shake.
The two of you expertly navigate the falling rocks as you make your way out of the collapsing building. Right when you get out, your eyes widen, and you twist your body so the glider doesn’t impale you. You land on top, and the Goblin turns around. Half of her mask is broken and she’s bleeding from being hit by one of the rocks. You can tell the glider was hit, too, because it seems to be stalling every now and again. It does get you farther away from your spider-companions, but they start webbing after you. “Found you,” she says. “No shit, Harriet. It only took you demolishing ONE building to do it this time, feels like a new personal record for you,” you respond, and she throws a punch at you. You dodge, and then see her pull out an unnecessarily large taxidermy needle. “Ah, shit,” you mumble as she starts wielding it like a dagger. You’re able to dodge most of her attacks, but the last one grazes your side. You hiss and realize she put another attempt of a knockout serum on it as well. Great. She laughs.
“Stupid spider! I didn’t need to stab you; I just needed a little graze! See, I put a special kind of toxin on my needle, and now it–” She gets knocked out by a single punch to the face. “You talk way too damn much, girl,” you mumble, webbing her to the side of a building as she falls off her glider. Oh shit. The glider. You leap off, despite the pain in your side and the woozy feeling that’s starting to show up and web the glider. You then go water skiing without the water. Or the skiis. And on the road. Oops.
You do your best to control the glider, swerving between cars and making sure it doesn’t run into any of the skyscrapers in downtown Night of Yore City. That’s when you realize it’s about to run straight into a building. You narrow your eyes. It’s time to do your Spider thing. You yank back on the glider, causing it to stall. You leap up onto the side of a building, detaching three webs onto it and leaping to the other one. You repeat until a full spiderweb is formed, blocking the glider’s way to the building, and repeat so it’s underneath the glider as well. You quickly web up the giant claws of the taxidermy bat, ensuring they can’t cut through your webs, and wrap the glider up, swinging around it in a circle. You attach the end of the web to the big spider web you just made and watch it slow down even more. It goes into the web in front of the building, and slightly indents into it, but that’s the further it gets.
You crouch on a lamppost, watching to make sure nothing bad happens. When you’re positive everything’s fine, you stand. A few citizens yell some thanks you’s, more glare at you because you just ruined their day, and some just ignore you completely. You look up and see the four other Spider-People chilling on the side of a building. You quickly join them. “Never seen someone make a web that fast and efficiently,” Gwen says, motioning to the web you wove. You shrug. “Thank you.”
“Unfortunate a buildin’ had to come down in the process,” Hobie says, not giving you a break or any type of praise. You roll your eyes. “Let’s not forget you were part of the reason the building came down.”
“I could have done it without the destruction.”
“Like you would have.”
“I wouldn’t have, but I could have. Obviously, you couldn’t,” he says, and you flip him off as you all begin webbing back to your apartment. Once you get there, you assess the damage the needle did to you. Some weird green toxin was in the cut, and you sigh. “Wait, (Y/n), that looks kind of serious,” Gwen says, noting the discoloration of the toxin compared to your skin. You shake your head. “No, it’s fine. She keeps trying to make a knock-out serum to use on me. None of them are strong enough,” you affirm, the slight wooziness you had felt earlier is completely gone. Now you just need to wash and dress this, and it should be healed by morning. “Or maybe she’s just a shit chemist.”
“Thank you, Hobie, for your doubt that I’m a capable Spider-Person,” you say, and he nods at you. “Always.”
You get out your first aid kit and clean your wound up. It stings, and you wince, and the others know that feeling all too well. “Right, well now that we’ve seen this gloomy, depressin’, dark ass world, why don’t we go see an actual fun world, eh?” Hobie says, starting to press some buttons on his watch. “Go to your world? What so I can be blown away with too loud amps and catch on fire because some dumbass thinks they can make a flamethrower with some sort of cleaning spray and a lighter? No thanks,” you mumble, and he rolls his eyes. “Not like I want you there anyways, love,” he says. You hate this new nickname he’s picked for you. It’s not endearing, it’s annoying. And he knows that it bothers you. You angrily put your first aid kit down and glare at him. “Fine. But hold on one second.”
You scale your wall and reach into an impossibly high cupboard, pulling out some cat food. Suddenly, the four spiders see two bright green eyes in the darkness of what appears to be your bedroom. You fill up a bowl, and your black cat saunters over to you. You pet his head, giving him a few scritches between the ears, his favorite spot. Hobie’s grateful you’re preoccupied with your cat because he does not need you to see the expression on his face. He loves cats. Especially black cats, they’re a perfect symbol of rebellion. Maybe he’ll come back here one day but only for your cat. ONLY.
“Alright, now that you’ve fed the cat, can we please leave? I can feel my soul bein’ sucked out of my body the longer I stand here,” Hobie says, impatiently, and you roll your eyes. “That’s the ghosts doing that, you know.”
“Oh, fuck off.”
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eunoiaastralwings · 3 months
Text
Effects of a Truth Serum
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featuring bucky x girlfriend!reader
fandom mcu- tfatws era
a/n dont ask me why i just did - it was a crack idea that got out off hand
warnings crack fic, fluff. innuendo (?) - SMUG BUCKY IS A WARNING. illusion into smut. and before you read just know am dyslexic. also the reader lowkey became my oc again. . . oop
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You cover your mouth as you tried not to laugh as her boyfriend – who managed to get injected with the truth serum while they were trying to stop a few the flag smashers.
 “you poor poor thing. . .”
You tease Bucky seeing how he looked annoyed and grumpy as he sat across from her – he was definitely mad at himself.
Bucky looks up at you.
Despite being under the influence of the Truth Serum – he’s annoyed by his girlfriend’s teasing and playful nature.
He doesn’t say anything – but the annoyed expression plastered on his face is clear enough.
You grins at your grumpy looking boyfriend.
“How you feeling, sergeant?”
You teased him cutely.
Bucky raises his eyebrow a little, slightly irritated by your continued teasing.
He finally breaks his silence.
“I feel. . . cranked; weird. This stuff’s really messing with my head.”
He looks at you – his expression slightly softer now but still slightly annoyed.
You sighed – gently holding his hand caressing it knowing he hated things that messed with his head or mind.
Bucky’s eyes follow your hand as you hold his.
His grip tightens slightly as you rub his hand. After a moment – his expression softens a little but his annoyance with the truth serum still hasn’t subsided.
Then you smirk – seemingly have very bright idea as she looked back up at your boyfriend holding back a huge mischievous grin.
Bucky watches you as you look up at him. He raises an eyebrow in curiosity, clearly wondering what exactly she’s planning.
“So. . .I just realized, I can ask you any question I want.”
You snickered.
Bucky doesn’t say anything at first.
He watches you and your mischievous grin with growing suspicion and curiosity – knowing exactly where this is leading. After a moment, he responds.
“I suppose you could. . .”
You smirked and leaned back crossing her arms thinking of the perfect questions.
As you lean back and thinks of the perfect questions to ask him, Bucky’s curiosity grows and he leans forward slightly – his eyes locked on you.
“How many women have actually been with back in the 40s!”
You instantly blurts out asking him – knowing he was quite the ladies man.
He raises his eyebrows and looks at you, and then he can’t help but let out a chuckle.
“I don't know the exact number. . .but more than you can count on two hands. . .and more. . .”
He shrugs his shoulders – still smirking.
Your jaw dropped “James. Buchanan. Barnes!”
“It doesn’t count if it was in war time!”
He mutters as if it were a valid excuse.
“Oh, of course, you probably slept with every nurse in the camp, didn’t you?”
You rolled your eyes at him.
“Not every nurse.”
He chuckles.
“But. . .I think. . .a lot of them. Yeah. . .”
He says thinking – causing you to raise an eyebrow at him.
“I was lonely, okay? And, I was young. And. . . hormonal.”
He shrugs again.
You smirk as the truth serum causes Bucky to say more of the truths.
Bucky clears his throat looking away – seemingly trying to keep himself shut; a faint blush from embarrassment on his cheeks.
“Right then. . .Hmm. . .”
You leaned back thinking of questions.
He waits patiently - or, as patiently as he can. The truth serum is doing its so-called magic.
Then she smirks again.
“When, how and where did you lose your virginity?”
His eyes widen.
“Jesus Christ. . .”
Bucky sighs and looks at you.
“You are making me answer everything, aren’t you?”
He’s slightly nervous – but doesn’t deny what he had just said.
You only smirk at your boyfriend.
“You know about mine”
You said.
“Yeah! Because I’m the one that took it! – I hate you right now!”
He rolls his eyes, but the smirk never leaves his face.
You only smirk as you watch him fight against the truth serum.
Bucky tries to hold it back – shutting his eyes but it was forced out.
“You’re evil”
Bucky laughs, slightly annoyed. But he doesn't lie to answer the question.
“The first time was in a bar. . .with a random waitress. . . in the back of the kitchen. . .Or back alleyway. I don’t even remember.”
He shrugs – “I was young and stupid.”
You just blink at him
“Wow. . .”
You whispered.
“What? You thought I was always a saint?”
He laughs lightly.
“I wasn’t always Winter Soldier, doll.”
“Come on. We were soldiers, back in the 40s. It was practically guaranteed to hook-up with other soldiers.”
Bucky smirks at the memory – “It was fun, I can't deny it.”
“Funny, how you can remember all that but not anything else!”
 You narrowed your eyes at your boyfriend.
“I remember. . .certain parts of my time in the 40s.”
He looks back at her, smirking.
“I remember the women” He chuckles. – “It was one of the perks of being a soldier, back then.”
“Do you have a death wish?”
She asked her boyfriend – growing a little jealous now.
“Don’t start, doll”.
He says, knowing he’s in trouble. – “Relax.”
He looks into your eyes again – “It was a lifetime ago, honey. I’m all yours now.”
But you still had your eyes narrowed.
“Y/N. . .”
 Bucky sighs – still looking into your eyes.
“I’m in love with you. It’s been years since I’ve even spoken of any of the women from my past. Can’t we just move on?”
He tries to smile in a reassuring way.
“I’m your only one. All the other women from my past. . .”
He chuckles to himself.
“They’re all just a distant memory at this point.”
Bucky says – gently tries to coax you into his arms again.
“Promise?”
You asked – as you reluctantly lets yourself be pulled into his arms.
“Always, doll.”
He smiles and wraps his arms around you.
“Just trust me, Y/N. I’m yours. . .and only yours.”
He gently leans in to kiss him.
You smile and softly kiss him back.
It wasn’t long before Bucky placed your back against the mattress too.
703 notes · View notes
ghouljams · 10 months
Text
I am in desperate need of some cowboy fluff, how about y’all?
Somehow Simon's been handed a baby. It's a little funny. It's his own fault for being in baby handing distance with nothing to do. When your cousins had bustled into the house and started making a racket, passing out greetings and bags in equal measure, you were sure your older cousin would hand their newest addition to your dad. He was sort of the baby guy, the one that always seemed to calm down even the most colicky infants at family gatherings. So when you turn to introduce Simon and see your cousin pass her bundle of joy off to him you are almost as shocked as he is. Which is the understatement of the century, because he is pretty shocked.
He’s hardly budged from where he was standing when the baby was handed to him, looking big and unsure and absolutely stiff with nerves. You suppose it helps that no one is really talking to him, most of your cousins have moved to the kitchen to pick your pantry clean. You excuse yourself from catching up to go make fun of him.
“You look comfortable,” You grin. It really is a sight, such a tiny thing being held by such a big man. That baby is in the safest place in the world and it knows it, cooing and grabbing at Simon’s shirt, big wide eyes staring up at him like he’s the whole world. You know the feeling baby.
“Me and babies don’t mix,” He grits out, probably too nervous to even breathe. 
“Maybe if you weren’t holding him like a snapping turtle you’d be more comfortable.” You tell him, moving close to adjust his hold. The baby’s head resting against his chest, nestled nice and cozy in his arms, not just resting on them like a hospital bed. You smile at your newest family member, poking his little nose and letting him grab your finger. When you look up at Simon his expression is… tight, you can’t place it. You sigh, “Come on, it’s not that bad.”
“It is that bad.”
“You’ve never thought about kids?” You mean it to be teasing but the look on his face makes you think maybe this is a more serious conversation. 
“Men like me shouldn’t have children,” He mumbles, looking down at the baby chewing on your finger. 
“My dad did a pretty good job.” He goes still again, for all the progress he’s made in being a person again Simon sure has a terrible opinion of himself. You shoot him a half-hearted glare, extracting your finger from its enthusiastic and gummy aggressor. “For the record, I think you’d be a great dad.” You tell him, turning to go back to the kitchen.
“At least take the damn thing with you,” He calls, it’s not as insistent as you would’ve thought. You think he might actually like holding the baby. You wave your hand over your shoulder at him.
“Nope, that’s your punishment. Pass him off to MacTavish when he gets here.” He’s lucky you’re not ratting on him to your dad. Men like him shouldn’t have kids... You’re a delight.
-
“Who’s the wee man?” Soap asks, leaning to wiggle his fingers at the baby in Ghost’s arms. It giggles, reaching with one pudgy hand to grab at him, the other tiny fist wrapped around Ghost’s tags. 
“I want you to be best man at my wedding,” Ghost says, absolutely not answering the question. Soap freezes, his brows raised.
“You’re getting married?”
“When she says yes.”
“This your bairn?” Soap asks, feeling more confused than he already was. Ghost makes a face.
“Johnny how the hell would this be my kid?” Ghost snaps, earning a bug eyed sniffle from the baby in his arms that caught both men’s attention. It’s the last warning before the baby scrunches up his face, building up enough red frustration to let out a sobbing wail. Soap is quick to scoop the fussy infant from Ghost’s arms, shushing him as he cradles him against his shoulder.
“Anno, let’s find your mum wee man, get you away from mean old Ghost.”
“Not a word of this MacTavish,” Ghost calls after him.
“More scared of Goose than her gander, sorry mate.”
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chellestrash · 5 months
Text
Please, Mr. Ghost Face
Frank Castle x F!Reader Halloween Special (18+)
Warnings: explicit language, explicit smut, semi-public, unprotected sex, roughy sex, brat! reader, frank being kinda bitchy, oral (f!receiving) knife play, mention of blood play, teasing.
Summary: look at the title, look at the warnings, you know what it is, enjoy!!
Word count: 7.2k
AN: Oh my god okay, thank you @chelseasdagger and @suitsofwo3 for getting me to actually finish writing this (i literally felt like i was loosing my god damn mind trying to push through). I dont know why it turned out so long I dont normaly write things that are over 3k so this...yeah I really hope at least some of you will enjoy. I love reading your thoughs and feedback on my fic so please, feel free to share them. Reblogs are very appriciated as always :) HAPPY HALLOWEEN!!
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You're not sure how Frank managed to get his entire Halloween costume ready before you finished the few quick fixes to your makeup. Even considering the fact that it took you around an hour to get the whole look together, and he repeatedly told you no matter when he started getting ready, he'd still be finished before you. He was right. Was it annoying? Slightly, yes, but for once, him being right was actually a good thing since you were already late to a house party one of your friends decided to throw at the end of the week once most of you were finally done with work.
You fix up your lipstick and try the fake fangs on one more time before messing with your hair a bit and taking a couple steps back to check the outfit out in the mirror. Nothing too creative, just a simple well-fitted black dress, slightly shorter than what you'd usually wear, a couple of bright red details and some silver jewelry. A last minute vampire, sure, it'll do.
You straighten up the fabric and look up and down at your reflection one more time.
“Right, I think I'm ready!”
You raise your voice, making sure he’d hear you, before grabbing the last few things and turning to the door.
“So, what did you decide to go as?”
You shout again, curious about how much effort he decided to put into the whole thing this year. Halloween wasn't necessarily a holiday Frank enjoyed, but he'd do this and that occasionally just to make you happy.
“Did you figure it out?”
Another question since he didn't answer the previous one. You step out of the room, digging through your small bag in search of your phone before you walk directly into your boyfriend’s chest.
“Shit, sorry.”
You mumble and Frank grabs your arm, helping you regain the balance before you end up with your ass on the wooden floor.
“Christ, easy, 'you okay?”
Frank’s deep, groggy voice rumbles through your body, and you take a moment to fix up the dress before finally tracing your eyes up his body. You bite the inside of your cheek and it feels like the words get stuck in your throat before you can answer him.
Frank stands in front of you with his usual outfit on. Combat boots, the ones you rarely see him out of, one of the dark gray, now slightly worn off jeans, and a black tank top, his heavy, deep navy blue jacket already in his hand. The reason for your reaction doesn't have anything to do with his exceptionally ordinary choice of clothing, but rather with a thing you're not used to seeing on him.
The basic Ghost Face mask from Scream covering his face makes it rather difficult to focus on… really anything else. The loose black cloth falls onto his exposed shoulders, covering part of his neck, and you catch yourself staring at him and his body for probably slightly longer than necessary.
“Oh, fuck.”
You finally manage to get out a couple of words, and Frank lets go of your arm.
“Think it'll do?”
You catch his question this time but keep your eyes fixed on the mask as his voice flows from underneath the fabric.
“Shit, yeah, yeah it’ll do alright.”
You lean back on the nearest wall, looking over his figure from head to toe once again.
“Shit, Frank, where did you even find that?”
“Corner shop.”
He shrugs and takes a step in your direction after a moment. You feel your back pushing against the door frame, a familiar warm feeling growing between your legs when his frame grows bigger in your field of view. His shoulders and chest, slightly exposed by the tight tank top, the fabric clearly struggling some right above his sternum. You catch the corner of your lips pulling up in a confident smirk once you finally take in the whole picture.
The dark, empty eyes of the mask pierce through your own for a moment and you cross your legs nonchalantly before Frank finally reaches up to get rid of the cheap Halloween costume.
Quickly grabbing his wrist, you stop him before he’s able to pull the mask off of his face. His head tilts to the side slightly, his sudden confusion expressed by the pose.
“What?”
The question, slightly muffled by the dark fabric, only amplifies the smirk already present on your face. You grin happily at the Ghost Face character right in front of you, somehow feeling like he already knows the answer to his question.
“Don’t fucking tell me you’re into that.”
Shaking his head, he tries again but you interrupt the action one more time.
“Oh boohoo, and what if I was?”
You tease. Your impatient hands linger over his body, fingers rubbing over the fabric of both his shirt and jeans. Hooking your hand over the waistband of the jeans, you pull yourself up, pushing off of the wall and leaning forward towards him, rubbing your leg up his own slowly. The fabric of the dress slides off of you slightly, exposing a decent amount of skin. Guiding Frank's hand to the back of your body, you arch your back slightly, pushing your ass into his palm, humming satisfied once you feel his tight grip through the dress. Frank's chest expands with a loud sigh, the space between your bodies closing almost completely now. He watches you carefully; every move, every tease, every little movement you plan out carefully, seemingly only to get a desired reaction out of him.
“What if I was, Mister Ghost Face?”
Your purr, biting down on your lower lip, your hand now pressed against his chest as you gently drag your nails over the fabric. Frank grunts, the harsher touch clearly getting to him now, and you fight back some smart ass comment your brain so kindly decided to equip you with. Instead, you drop your hand to your thigh under the slit at the side of the skirt. Pulling the fabric back, you let a glimpse of the bright red underwear peek from underneath the costume. Frank finally breaks once you glare up at him suggestively.
“Mmmmm, fuck.”
He groans from behind the mask, gripping your ass firmly before pulling you onto himself, your leg hooked loosely behind his. Slipping his hand under the fabric of the dress, he digs his fingers into your flesh and you part your lips, letting out a satisfied moan in return.
“‘M not fucking you with the mask on, kid.”
Way to kill the mood. You think, but bite your tongue just in time, not willing to give up on the idea just yet. You can't help it. To be completely honest, it feels like his fault. You didn’t make him look this good in the costume, well, part of it, you never anticipated he’d pick out this exact one either. The fact that it was able to get these reactions from you and your body? Yeah, seems like you’re innocent. Gliding your hand between his legs, you drag your nails over the bulge before spreading your fingers apart, cupping the whole of it in your palm.
Frank grunts and the previously present smirk makes its way back onto your face, you don’t even try to act innocent anymore.
Listening to his now heavier breathing, despite his not so thrilled demeanor, his heart picks up the pace slightly, the blood rushing down between his legs.
A faint twitch under the jean fabric corresponding with his fingers digging deeper into your thigh and you know he's focused now. He's listening.
“Yeah, we’ll see about that.”
You push the weight of your body against his groin, and his hand finds its way up to your hair. Fingers tangle into your hair before he tugs on it firmly. Your head tilts up, and the Ghost Face mask finally comes off once you cannot delay the inevitable any longer.
He leans in closer, his warm breath brushes over your lips, and you fight back the cocky smirk, not entirely sure which one of you wanted to feel the other more at this moment.
His stern expression only strengthens once you reach your hand behind him. Your fingers brush over his ass and you watch how his jaw tightens, his eyes closing.
“Oh, there he is.”
You tease, and he almost snaps this time, inhaling deeply through his nose in an attempt to steady his breathing.
“You try that shit one more time-”
He starts. Leaning closer to your ear, his lips brushing over your neck.
“And we're gonna have a big problem, kid.”
“Oh.”
You whisper, grinding into his thigh slowly.
“Oh, are we? We gonna have a problem, Mister Ghost Face?”
Your lips almost brush over his now. Frank opens his mouth to talk back, ready to have you bent over and waiting for him, ready to make both of you feel good or, most importantly, ready to have you apologize for the whole god-damn mask thing.
You breathe out a quiet laugh at the frustrated expression on his face once the sound of your phone successfully distracts you from his attempts to intimidate you.
With his hand still under your dress, the other in your hair, his leg between yours and his body leaning down over you, you answer the phone. Speaking as if it was the most casual situation possible.
“Yeah? Oh, yeah, we're on our way, we'll be there in a bit. Yeah.”
Frank watches, flabbergasted, as you make up a little story about why the two haven't joined the rest yet. You smack his shoulder a couple of times, pushing away from him and taking a few steps into the direction of the front door.
“What?”
You ask once the phone call is over.
“You're the one who said it's not happening.”
***
You arrive at the party a good while after it began. The house feels pretty crowded, the music is way louder than necessary, and you're pretty certain you're able to pick up the smell of both alcohol and cigarettes from the other side of the street. It honestly feels like one of those weekend college parties that used to always leave you with a two day long hangover a couple of years back. You shiver from a gust of the cold night wind and look over at your boyfriend while pulling the jacket close around your body. Frank looks unimpressed with that really significant frown on his face, not looking forward to spending the rest of the night in a small, crowded place with a bunch of people he didn't want to have to deal with.
“Oh, you’ll be fineee.”
Your oh so encouraging words earn you a stern look from him before he shakes his head with a deep sigh.
“Just go.”
You laugh and with his hand resting against your lower back, he pushes you towards the door, slipping on the movie accurate mask with a look of disapproval as you climb up the steps together.
“I’m throwing this thing out tomorrow.”
The muffled sound of his voice humors you, but you bite your tongue.
“Whatever you say, Frankie.”
***
This wasn’t Frank's idea, of course it wasn’t. He agreed to go to the party knowing how much you’d enjoy yourself but that was the only reason. The costumes weren’t even in the picture when you first asked him to join you, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to run around to different stores frantically trying to assemble a Halloween outfit. The mask was the first thing he saw after stepping into that corner store earlier in the day. He didn’t pay it much thought earlier, but now? After you made it blatantly obvious how much you enjoyed the whole thing, well… he struggled to get through one conversation without his thoughts slipping back to what happened before you two left your place.
You weren’t any better. Even when you split to catch up with different groups of friends after you stepped into the house, you found yourself constantly scanning the room in search of either his face, the mask, or his back. Catching his glance from across the room, you smile, raising the bottle of beer in your hand up. He does the same, but the gentle smile on his lips wears off the second you gesture for him to pull the mask back down. Frank rolls his eyes, shaking his head, before continuing his conversation with some guy you managed to interrupt.
You could try to focus on other things, on the drinks, the music, the stories shared between your friends. You could…but you can’t. There’s no use in trying when your eyes keep searching for Frank every other moment and your mind keeps slipping into places you’d rather not discuss in a room full of people.
With that in mind, you make it your mission to tease Frank through the evening and really see how hard you can make this get to him.
It starts slow: some gentle touches as you pass him by here and there, pushing your fingers through the hair on the back of his head as you two try to hold a conversation with another person, sitting in his lap when some of the people move to sit outside, and most importantly encouraging him to keep the mask on. It’s a costume party, after all.
He catches on when you two are in the kitchen and you obnoxiously brush your ass against his cock while squeezing past him to grab another beer from the fridge.
He grunts, his fingers quickly wrapping around your arm, and he glares into your eyes, silently warning you, possibly hoping it would somehow get you to behave. It doesn’t. You shoot him a quick smirk, waving at one of your friends wearing an angel costume when she walks into the kitchen.
“We’re doing a group photo in the living room!”
She announces excitedly, and you grin, immediately matching her energy.
“Are we showing our costumes off?”
Frank's fingers loosen the grip around you, and you step away from him without hesitation, taking your friend's hand while she answers your question.
“Yeah! We're trying to get everyone in!”
“Oh, fun!”
Walking by her side, you step out of the kitchen, turning back for just a moment.
“You heard that, Frankie? Costumes!!”
***
Back in the living room, you all gather together to attempt the impossible task of fitting every single person at the party into one photo together. Frank joins everyone a bit after you, walking in your direction as you all begin to take your somewhat assigned places.
“Hi.”
You start innocently, standing on your toes, to press a quick kiss to the side of his face. Frank nods in response, cautious of your tricks. Standing behind you to make you more visible in the photo, he wraps his arm around your chest, and you quickly grab onto his forearm. Glancing back over your shoulder, you quickly point out the obvious.
“You gotta put the mask on.”
“Mind your business, yeah?”
He murmurs, and you breathe out a quiet laugh, not looking away even for a second while he pulls the dark fabric and white mask over his face. You take a deep breath in, and the corner of your lips pull up in a satisfied smirk.
“Frankie-“
You start, the gentle heat between your legs returning since he put the mask on for the first time, now more prominent as he stares down at you once again.
“Leave it.”
He orders in a harsh whisper and with his hand on the back of your neck, he makes you face the camera. Your body takes over your brain and when everyone poses for the photo and his hand slides to your lower back, you push your ass out and press it against his bulge. His grunt, muffled by the mask and the constant noise of the party, slips from under the mask and his hands find your hips faster than you realize it was happening. His fingers dig into your thighs, so hard you know it'll leave bruises. He holds you still, knowing god-damn well if he lets go you'll repeat exactly what you just did.
There's a flash of the phone, and once the photo is taken he lets go of your body immediately. You make up your mind, deciding to risk it. Pushing past a few groups of people that begin to form around the living room, you excuse yourself, glancing back at Frank to make sure he's watching before you disappear behind the corner. You make your way to the bathroom, shutting the door behind you. You don't lock it. You know he won't let that whole thing slip. No more than five minutes pass before he decides to join you.
“Took you long enough.”
You point out and push yourself off the edge of the bathtub, standing up before taking a couple steps in his direction. Frank shuts the door closed and turns back to face you.
“Oh, you wanted me to just walk after you, huh? Make it real obvious?”
He takes a step closer to you, his chest almost rubbing against yours when he looks down.
“No one would give a shit, Frank, everyone's drunk. We could fuck with the door wide open and they wouldn't notice.”
“Stop.”
His voice harsh with the warning.
“Why?”
You push without hesitation or any intention of stopping.
“That get you too much, huh? Bet you'd like that, Frankie, hmm?”
Frank's body tenses up at your attempt to tease him. He stands up straighter, taller, and his shoulders stiffen, his chest rising when he breathes heavily under the mask. His hand balls up into a tight fist as he pushes back the frustration, trying not to hand you exactly what you want from him out on a plate.
“You just don't ever shut up, do you?”
You breathe out a quiet laugh, shaking your head slowly before you stand up on your tiptoes. Staying at eye level with the mask now, you squint, trying to see through the sheer fabric in the eyeholes.
“Oh I do. I can shut up but you don't like that, do you?”
You whisper. The muscles in his neck tensing when his jaw tightens and he shakes his head slowly.
“Yeah, okay, how ‘bout you try for once. Might do you some good.”
“Yeah?”
You whisper again, your hand now rubbing over the center of his chest, feeling the heat under his shirt.
“Make me.”
The words slip past the big smirk on your face and you decide now is the time. Sliding your hand down his body, you brush over the bulge in his jeans. Not giving him time to react, you grip his cock tightly through the thick fabric. With that, you watch whatever was left of Frank's composure crumble away.
There's a moment of silence where his fingers wrap around your wrist. His grip is tight and he holds it in place. You glance down, watching his hand for a moment, before squeezing him once again.
“F-”
He grunts, yanking your hand away with so much force you couldn't possibly even try to fight it back.
“That's it.”
Immediately, you feel his body pushing into yours once he shoves you back against the bathroom counter. Your lips part but you keep the moan back, wrapping your arms around his neck and biting into his exposed shoulder once you feel the porcelain digging into your lower body.
Breathing heavier under the plastic mask, he reaches down to the high slit on the side of your dress. His fingers push into your skin and drag up your thigh. Your breath rushes and your chest rises and falls faster now, the only indication, besides the elaborate banter and the teasing, of how much you've been thinking of this since getting to the party.
You hum loudly once his fingers brush over the hem of your underwear. Your hips push forward slightly in need of his touch once he tugs on the fabric to pull it down. You reach towards him, hands working the buckle of his belt open once the lace of your panties brushes down your calf. Frank reaches up, hand gripping the mask to finally pull it off, but you grab his wrist, stooping him once again.
There's a moment of silence when you both wait for the other to talk, the heat of your bodies radiating through the small bathroom. The pure lust for one another allows this to last only a few seconds.
“Keep it on.”
You request, knowing deep down that you can push him enough to actually have him fuck you with it on.
“Jesus fucking-”
Frank scoffs, pulling the mask off and looking away from you. He shakes his head, disapproving of whatever the hell you've been trying to get him involved in since the night started. He turns back to face you, his eyebrows pulled together, face in a frustrated frown.
“Seriously, this shit again?”
You roll your eyes with a frustrated sigh, hand on his chest as you push against his body, creating some distance between both of you.
“Could you just do one fucking thing without bitching about it so much? Like, is that too hard or?”
You push one more time, both the tone of your voice and the choice of words a lot harsher than before. You keep your gaze on his eyes, confidently staring him down after your annoyed statement, not letting go of this whole thing, not now, not with knowing how close you were.
Frank stands tall in front of you, jaw tight, teeth grinding against each other, and his chest pushes out with the breath he's been holding in his lungs. His eye twitches slightly before he looks off to the side. The bridge of his nose scrunches up when he inhales quickly, nodding once he finally turns back to face you again.
“Alright.”
He slowly pulls the mask back on.
“Your fucking call, sweetheart.”
Before there's time to react, he grabs your arm and shoves you against the sink, turning your body around in one swift motion, bending you over the counter and wrapping his fingers around your upper thigh.
“Your fucking call.”
His words travel down your body and between your legs, the excitement of getting what you wanted, followed by the thrill of the entire situation. The warmth between your legs grows once Frank pulls your ass back, kicking your legs open with his foot. You glance up, focusing on his reflection in the mirror in front of you.
The man towers over you, his shoulders broad and heavy, his chest in the dark tank top, his arm flexing when he holds your lower back down against the wood. The mask, fuck, the mask exposing the tense muscles in his neck, the whole sight taking over your senses, your mind and body.
His heavy hand rubs over your back, up and down a couple of times, before he pushes his palm under the fabric of your dress. Bunching it up, he pulls it over your ass and you can't help but push it out some more in search of his touch.
There's a loud scoff, and you see him shaking his head in the mirror.
“You know, you talk a lot of shit for how wet you are right now, sweetheart.”
He mocks you, pulling the black fabric up before pushing his fingers between your legs.
You whine out loud, closing your legs at the sudden touch but pull them apart again almost instantly.
“Yeah, s’ what I thought. You got a big mouth for-”
“Oh, shut up.”
You cut into his words and feel his fingers on the back of your neck. The grip tightens and he pulls you up, back into an upright position, your body now pressed against his chest. The reflection in the mirror makes your mouth part, but you bite into your lower lip, fighting back another moan. His figure looms over you, the mask ways up above your shoulder, his hand moving to the front of your neck. You feel yourself react to the sight in front of you, to the feeling of his fingers wrapping tighter around your neck, the warmth of his body so close behind you.
“What, you think I'm gonna say make me? Hmm?"
Pushing you back down on the counter, Frank steps closer to your body, his clearly hard cock pressing against your ass.
“Nah, that's your part. I don't do that shit.”
Taking your chance, you perk your ass up some, brushing over the warm spot between his legs. Frank grunts, closing his eyes for a moment before reaching down, pushing his pants open and then down slightly, pulling himself out of the black boxers.
Unable to win with your body this time, you slip up, letting out a moan once his cock springs out from under the dark fabric, stretched out over the large bulge up until this point.
There's a low chuckle from under the Ghost Face mask.
“That shit really gets you that bad?”
One of Frank's hands digs into your thigh, holding you close, the other wrapped tightly around his length.
You nod, making sure he catches the still confident expression on your face in the bathroom mirror.
“Oh, you've got no idea.”
You tease again and Frank moves his hand up to your shoulder blades. Pushing your body down against the counter, he clears his throat.
“Think I got some.”
He lines himself up, getting a few pumps in over his length before spreading you open with his free hand. He pushes inside slower than you'd have liked, pausing after the tip the second he feels how truly ready you are.
“You get off on these things, huh?”
He continues the questing, beginning to thrust into you, and you feel your body stretching to fit him in with every push. Your lips part as your mouth falls open before you bite into your lip, trying to muffle the sounds you're sure would otherwise fill the space of the small bathroom. You try to keep your head up, focusing on Frank's reflection. His body takes up most of your view. You focus on the mask, the low grunts coming from behind it, the feeling of his cock dragging inside of you, out of you and then pushing right back inside, and the feeling of him stretching you out that never goes away entirely.
“You want it fucking scary? Hmm? That'll do it for you?”
He keeps up the teasing, quick to point out every single reaction your body presents him with, and you finally decide to bite back.
You reach behind your back, hand on the front of his hip, tapping your palm against his body to get his attention. Pausing his movements for a moment, Frank watches your face in the mirror, giving you space to talk.
“Yeah, you got me.”
You grunt, cursing under your breath, once he decides to move his palm between your legs.
“You got me but-”
“Gotta speak up, sweetheart.”
He thinks he has you now.
“The mask isn't scary, It's just hot. You should try harder to reeeally get me."
The feeling of his fingers rubbing over your clit disappears immediately after you finish the sentence. He starts up again from behind, and you feel yourself clench around his cock once he moves inside you. You hum loudly, and Frank wraps his big hands around the sides of your body. Panting loudly with his cock still inside you, he tries to focus on your words, knowing, and being almost completely sure, of what you were asking for.
“You know what would help?”
You purr quietly, watching him in the mirror. Your confidence flows back to you once you notice him slightly stunted. The mask moves in the reflection, his eyes focus on your face from underneath the fabric, and you know he's now thinking about it too.
“Yeeeaah, I know you have it, Frankie.”
His grip on you tightens with your words.
“You don't leave the house without it. ‘Just in case’? Your words.”
It takes a moment, but after that moment he reaches behind his body without a word. There's hesitation and he pauses. The bathroom falls quiet and the only sound between your panting is the muffled noise of the party outside the bathroom door.
Slowly, Frank pulls out his black, military grade knife you've seen on him so many times before. The one he always insists on carrying with him, the one you knew he didn't leave at the house tonight.
“Ohhh that's it, Frankie, look at that.”
You whisper in a condescending tone, bumping your odds of actually getting hurt up just a bit higher. He doesn't say a word, but the knuckles of his hand turning white with the strength of the grip speak volumes.
“This what you fucking want?”
He asks, pushing his hand into your hair before tugging to pull your head up. He pushes the blade harder against your skin. The sting of the sharp edge gliding over the inside of your thigh makes you push your hips back again. Once you make sure his eyes focus on your reflection, you smirk, bigger than before, and bite into your lower lip with a quiet whine. With a grunt, Frank holds you down in place, not allowing you to move further back on him,
“You're fucking sick, you know that?”
He points out, and you feel the win in your bones. Making yourself clench around him, you murmur quietly in the most innocent voice.
“Oh yeah, but you like it, Frankie.”
He breaks. His cock twitches inside you and he shoves your chest into the bathroom counter. Thrusting inside you, he follows his every move with a grunt. You grip onto the edge of the sink, now letting the sweet sounds of pleasure slip past your lips with no restrictions. Your breath hitches, the pounding in your head rushes once Frank leans over your body. With his chest pressed against your back, he presses the knife back into the inside of your thigh. You instinctively spread your legs open a bit more as he mumbles something about the knife again. The edge of the blade nicks your skin with the next thrust and you groan at the feeling. Rolling your eyes back, you let your head fall forward, fully aware of the fact Frank just felt how good that felt for you.
“God d-“
He starts in his raspy voice. His big hand holds your lower back in place once he pulls back, the drag of his cock slipping out of your body makes you curl your toes.
Lifting your head back up, you watch him in the mirror, seeing him kneel behind you quickly. You glance back at him confused, not sure of what to expect next.
You gasp, louder than you’ve liked it, but you can’t help it, it’s not your fault. You’d be lying if you said you were expecting him to do his. Kneeling on one knee, Frank pulls you closer by your thighs before pulling the mask up and he presses his tongue flat against the cut. It stings and you jump forward but he pulls you back to him before dropping his right hand to his cock, the knife still in his other hand while he strokes over his length a couple of times.
“So your cock’s fucking throbbing and I’m the sick one?”
You throw the question into the air and it’s like a slap across his face. He pauses, immediately standing up to shove you back down against the wood.
“You gonna act like you don’t like it?”
He spits out, not even expecting an answer, as he lines himself up with your entrance again. Adjusting his grip for a moment, he pulls you back on him instead of thrusting forward, and you struggle to regain balance for a moment as he pushes deeper and deeper inside you.
Out of your control at this point, your thighs press against each other, squeezing him tighter than before. He bends in half, grunting what seems like louder than the actual music playing outside the bathroom. You part your lips ready to deliver another smart ass comment but the force of his hips pushing against your ass, his dick hitting that stop deep inside right under your stomach? It knocks the wind out of you and turns your words into one loud moan.
“Fuck.”
You grunt, feeling your body dancing on the edge now. You prop yourself up, watching his body flex in the mirror as he fills you up, what feels like better than anyone has before.
You move on top of the counter, move with his body when he slips his hands between your bodies to finally push you over the edge. Making him drop the knife, you grab onto that hand and bring it up to cover your mouth with his big palm, muffling the sounds of your pleasured body as he works it even deeper inside you.
“Just needed it to hurt a bit, huh?”
Frank teases, pointing out how your body gives away how close you are now, how you’re unable to keep up the bratty demeanor anymore.
“The knife got you this close?”
You whine quietly through his fingers when he holds your back against his chest. His voice turns slightly softer when he fully takes in the state of you.
With your body shaking, your chest moving faster than he’s ever seen it before, your eyes watering and your hands clinging onto his arm, you let him make the call.
“You gonna come for me, sweetheart? Hmm?”
You grunt, frustrated with the slightly condescending tone, but still nodding your head quickly.
“Attagirl, you calmed down a bit?”
And another nod, his fingers roughing over your clit, his cock twitching deep inside you.
“Yeah, that’s it, c’mon. C’mon you got it.”
He mumbles quietly, helping you lean over the counter one last time. His hands rest on your sides and as he pushes inside you again, you whine. Then again you cry out, pushing your legs together. He only manages half a thrust after pushing his fingers hard against your clit, rubbing over the most sensitive spot. You feel your body tensing up with both pain and pleasure as you reach back to hold onto his arm.
“Attagirl, you got it, that’s it”
Your nails dig into his skin while he works over you, letting your body squeeze around his cock once it finally hits you. The overwhelming pleasure floods your body, and you feel the heat from the top of your head down to the very tips of your toes. Winning out his name, you make it pretty obvious he managed it once again. With your muscles tense around him, Frank grunts loudly, pushing into you one more time before he follows with his own climax.
“Fuuuuuuuck-“
He groans, his cock aching for release once he finally reaches it. He gives a few final thrusts when he fills you up before taking a step back to pull his cock out.
Taking a deep breath in, he reaches up, pulling the mask off of his face while watching you attempt to collect yourself.
You try to catch your breath, pushing yourself up before you feel Frank's hand on your arm. He helps you up, turning you around to have you face him now and you notice his loud breathing slowly beginning to mirror your own.
You lean forward and so does he, both of you taking a moment to calm down. Your forehead rests against his as you close your eyes and attempt to steady your breathing.
“Shit.”
You glance down quickly, feeling his cum drip down the side of your leg. Frank's eyes follow, the mask tilts down when he watches the drop slide down over your skin. His hands move to your waist, and he helps you up onto the counter with a grunt. You sit right at the edge, getting comfortable and spreading your legs apart while he slowly gets on his knees right in front of you. You hold up the mask, resting it on top of his head, focusing on his face. You smile at the red hues in his skin.
“Oh, Frankie, I almost forgot how pretty you look.”
You tease and he follows up with a scoff.
“Yeah okay, c'mere.”
He pulls you forward, slightly closer to him, before helping you pull the dress up one more time. His warm breath fans your skin for a moment before he licks over his lips. They press against your skin now, right above the knee. Another kiss follows but higher up your leg and then once more. You push your legs apart more to make it easier for him.
“Attagirl.”
He mumbles against your skin, his hand rubbing over your calf softly while he works his lips over your skin for another moment.
“See? You can be nice sometimes.”
He whispers, and you hum impatiently, pushing your fingers through his exposed hair before tugging at them slightly. He scoffs, and you feel the quick breath on your center.
The second his tongue brushes over your folds, you shut your eyes completely. Still sensitive from the previous orgasm, you let your body lead this time and your head falls back, resting against the mirror while Frank takes care of you.
You moan out his name, not even attempting to fight it back, and he picks up the pace. The warm and wet sensation quickly works you up more than you're actually willing to admit. Relaxing into the feeling, you push your legs open further and Frank chuckles against your body. Your core rumbles with the sound and your thighs quickly press together, closing around his head. He groans, tongue slipping inside you while the pressure around his face tightens. Tilting his head up, he nudges the tip of his nose against your clit and your hips buck forward, a motion accompanied by another loud moan of his name.
You cover your mouth, but only for a second, failing to keep the sounds in once he wraps his lips around your most sensitive spot. Sucking your clit into his mouth, Frank successfully pushes you into an impatient state where you know if he won't get you to finish soon, you'll do it without his help. Your back arches and you mumble his name in an attempt to get his attention.
“Frank.”
You start and your body twitches. Feeling another long stroke of his tongue.
“Mhhh.”
He hums deep into you. Reaching for your legs, he throws them both over his shoulders and digs his fingers into your ass, quickly tugging you closer to him.
“Frank-”
Your breath hitches and you gasp quietly, whining his name out one more time. You feel yourself getting closer, the sounds of the party seem so distant now you almost forget where you are. Almost, because as you feel yourself getting close to your second climax, when his touch becomes so much more intense, when your legs tremble with the feeling, right at that very moment you realize. You never locked the door.
Hearing the sound of the doorknob turning, you press your foot against Frank's shoulder in a desperate attempt to push him away, but before you can do it, with his head still between your legs, Frank leans to the side quickly. With a loud grunt, he shoves the door closed with his shoulder without pulling away from you. He reaches up blindly, feeling the door for the lock, before you reach your hand over his head and finish for him.
He hums into your body, satisfied, and you feel yourself relaxing back into the feeling.
“Shit, Frankie...”
You whisper, pushing your hips forward against his face slightly. There’s a low, raspy chuckle that leaves his chest and you close your eyes, titling your head back to rest it against the mirror while he works on the second round.
You come shortly after and with your body so severely overstimulated, the soft, warm sensation of his tongue works better than he’d expect. He makes sure to take a mental note of it as he looks up from between your legs, watching when the second wave finally pushes you over the edge.
You rest, leaning against the mirror as he stands up in front of you, hand rubbing over your legs gently, his eyes fixed on yours.
“You okay?”
He asks. His soft, quiet question contrasts with whatever the hell the two of you just did in the small space of the bathroom. You lift your hand up, gesturing for him to stop talking and he chuckles quietly.
“Fair.”
He mumbles before turning his attention to his reflection. You watch as he cleans himself up a bit, washing the wet shine off his face and drying himself with the hem of his shirt.
Reaching over to the other side of the counter, he leans down, grabbing his knife off the floor and putting it away before handing the plastic mask over to you.
“Imagine if I didn't go out and pick this shit up.”
You snort, exhausted, enjoying how he literally managed to fuck the frustration out of himself.
“I don’t wanna think about that.”
You whisper, and he scoffs loudly, looking down and shaking his head before glancing back up at you.
“Yeah I bet.”
He helps you collect yourself, staying close by when you clean yourself up and straighten the fabric of your dress before handing you the previously abandoned underwear as you both get ready to leave the bathroom.
He offers you his hand, helping you off of the counter, and you lean on him while stepping down from it.
“Can you walk?”
He asks, and you look up at him, unimpressed with the not-so-subtle tease.
“Shut up.”
You mumble, hoping and praying your legs wouldn't just give out on you and give him something else to tease you about.
“Oh yeah, sorry.”
He grabs the mask and pulls it back on his face, then turns to you.
“Can you walk?”
He repeats the question, clearly enjoying this more than he should.
“Yeah, yeah, laugh all you want. I saw how hard you got.”
“Okay, that’s it. Out.”
He gestures to the door, pulling it open to let you out of the room. You hold onto his hand, letting him lead. You ditch your shoes and he carries them for you as you both make your way towards the front door, glancing back in the direction of the party before turning back to face each other again.
“You wanna get the hell out of here?”
“Yeah.”
You nod.
“We gotta get all the use out of that mask before you toss it tomorrow.”
You point out, pulling the door open, and hear his laugh over your shoulder.
“You don’t think maybe you’ve had enough now?”
His voice cuts through the night, and you turn around with a playful smirk, feeling the cold, crispy autumn air fill your lungs.
“No, no, I don’t think so. Besides...”
You slowly pull the mask onto your face staring him down.
“I don’t think you’ve had enough either.”
430 notes · View notes
bagopucks · 25 days
Text
J. Drysdale - Blind Dating
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Jamie Drysdale x Fem!reader
Requested✨
Word Count: 2.5k
Warning(s): alcohol consumption.
The end is pretty fast paced but I’m considering making a part two if enough people like this!
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This had to be a joke.
I tapped my foot impatiently against the floor beneath the table. Watching the man across from me fidget with his menu, peeking over it occasionally with a wide grin to ask some sort of question. Was he five? His hair was parted down the middle, looking as if it was still drying from a shower. He had wide blue eyes.. doe eyes, warm and welcoming compared to my scowl. He was handsome, but I couldn’t get past his behavior.
“What do you think you’re gonna get?” His voice was soft, but curious. I wanted to reply with, ‘whatever I can finish the quickest to get out of here,’ but I held my tongue. “The shrimp Alfredo looks really good.. I’m just afraid it won’t taste the same.” I would admit he was mostly talking to himself. I wasn’t being very open. But his statement piqued my interest.
“The same as what?”
“I used to live in California, right next to the beach. All of the seafood was so fresh.” I watched his broad shoulders rise and fall in a shrug.
“That’s nice.” I looked down at the glass of water I held between my hands. This man was not very impressive. Nor did he seem overly confident. Or confident at all.
Could he sense my distaste?
“You can get something other than water.. I don’t want you to feel like you need to save my money.” His words brought a good reminder as to why I hadn’t walked out already. He was covering the whole meal.
“Thanks, but I’m avoiding much else at the moment.” I spoke, watching his big blue eyes look back up from the menu.
The fact that the man had been late was probably the driving factor that made me not want to give him a chance. I was never one to take to people who had a bad internal clock.
“So.. what do you do for a job?”
“I’m a journalist.” I answered his question briefly, my eyes wandering toward the window by our table.
“Nice! You must be pretty smart then.” An awkward chuckle fell from his lips. “I’d say I was okay in school.. but I never went to college. Just wasn’t my thing.”
“It’s not for everybody.” I shrugged, watching cars pull into the lot of the restaurant.
“Is this the first time you’ve done the whole.. blind dating thing?”
“No.”
“Oh.. this is my first time. I gotta admit I’m pretty nervous.”
“You don’t say,” the sarcastic phrase slipped ruthlessly from my lips. My gaze returned to the man to assess the damage, a momentary empathy filling my gaze. He simply chuckled again.
“I know.. my best friend always says I’m easy to read.”
“I’m sorry,” I apologized softly, leaning back in my seat.
“It’s okay.. I get it. I can imagine I’m the last person you expected to show up..” his voice trailed off into silence before he shrugged once more. “You are very pretty.”
Finally. A compliment. I smiled. He seemed to loosen up slightly at the sight. I had been raised on the ideal of returning a compliment with a compliment, so I indulged his words kindly.
“Thank you, Jamie. I’ll admit you have beautiful eyes.” I watched his cheeks flush, my disinterest morphing quickly into a twinge of attraction. He was cute when he blushed.
“Thanks..” he whispered before his head seemed to duck behind the wall that was his menu again. What was once annoying slowly turned into amusing. Maybe I could cut him some slack. “Do you have any idea what you want?” He asked once more.
“I really love clams.” I glanced down at my own menu, at the item I had picked out the moment we entered the building. This was one of my favorite restaurants.
“Ew,” I heard Jamie mumble from the safety of his side of the table. My brow furrowed.
“You don’t like clams?” I leaned forward.
“Never had them.”
“Then how can you hate them?” I quickly reached out to pull his menu down, catching Jamie off guard. He immediately sat up. For the first time since he sat down, he was exposed, having to sit with no barrier between us. I refused to believe someone as beautiful as him had confidence issues.
“They look gross.” Jamie reasoned with a nervous grin.
“You’re trying one.” I demanded, smirking and folding my arms across my chest.
“Absolutely not.” I drew in a breath to insist before our conversation was cut short. Our waitress waltzed by with a grin, pulling a notepad from her apron as she greeted us kindly, informing us of the specials and the house alcohols.
“What can I get you two?” She glanced between the two of us, and Jamie’s eyes settled on me as a silent signal to go first.
“Can I get the garlic butter clams with a side of fries?” The woman nodded kindly and jotted down the order before turning to Jamie, who happily requested his own meal.
“Shrimp Alfredo and a side salad with Italian dressing?”
“Anything else for the two of you?”
“Can we get a bottle of wine?” I asked swiftly, “not too expensive, but whatever you think is best.” I had told Jamie I didn’t need anything other than water, but he certainly needed to loosen up. Wine was always a good way to take the edge off.
“Of course. I’ll be right back with that!” The waitress gathered our menus and swiftly turned to leave. My eyes settled on Jamie.
“I hope you don’t mind,” I spoke.
“I don’t mind at all.” He smiled, “as long as you share.” Though it wasn’t the best of jokes, his attempt still made me chuckle.
“Why are you so nervous, Jamie?” I folded my arms atop of one another on the table, leaning forward against them,
“Oh god… where to start?” He laughed at himself, reaching upwards to brush his hair back. “Well first of all I was late… which really wasn’t my fault, and I’m sorry. I had to- stay over time at my job. Then I had to run home and grab a shower real quick. It threw off my whole plan. Then I came here and find you sitting all alone- and I just felt bad. But you look- like.. amazing. I feel like I could have dressed a little nicer. And you’re kinda intimidating. When I lived in California I usually had a wingman, now I’m flying solo.. it’s kinda scary. Not to mention I’m new to this whole area. I don’t know why I thought it was a good idea to go on a date so soon,” he seemed amused by his own misfortunes. A nice refreshing attitude to the usual of people whining and complaining. He drew in a deep breath only to sigh. “It’s been a long day, and I really didn’t want to mess this up. I still don’t.” It was the only explanation I needed. The judgement was lifted from my shoulders fairly quickly.
“It’s okay.. you haven’t messed anything up yet.” Less than minutes ago I would have had a different response. “Hopefully this wine’ll take the edge off too, yeah?” I watched Jamie’s anxieties melt away, nodding with a wide grin.
“Yeah.. that would be amazing.”
And it certainly was. The minute the wine came Jamie and I dove in. We opened up far more, and I learned a lot about the man in front of myself. He told jokes, he spoke about what he loved and what he was passionate about, and he asked a million questions about me. When our food came the conversation slowed but it didn’t stop. I was taken with his smile, his glow, his tentativeness. And just like he promised, when we finished eating, he paid for everything. I hadn’t planned on spending any more time than necessary with the man, at least not at first. But I’d admit the turn of events made me sad to think of the fact that I’d have to say goodbye. Or would I?
“I had an amazing night,” Jamie spoke as he stood from his chair, grabbing his coat off the back of it.
“I did too.. but it’s not over yet.” I watched his brow rise in surprise as I stood too. “We have one more stop.” I walked around the table and reached for him. Jamie had no problem with letting me take hid hand. We walked side by side out of the restaurant, and he made sure to hold the door for me. “We should get an Uber,” I suggested, reaching for my phone. Though Jamie was quick to argue.
“No, they take too long. I’ll call a friend.” We sat down beside one another on the bench outside of the building. I leaned into Jamie’s side for warmth, and he was swift to wrap his arm around me while he dialed a number on his phone.
“Hey…”
I tuned out the conversation as I watched cars drive in and out of the lot. I relished in Jamie’s warmth, though I also told myself I was crazy for giving in to him so easily. I usually wasn’t into men like him. But he was certainly an exception.
“My friend said he’ll be over in five minutes.” I nodded as Jamie spoke.
“That’s pretty fast.”
“He’s really supportive.” Jamie laughed softly. “Where are we headed?”
“Cant say.”
“As long as you don’t axe murder me.” I rolled my eyes and laughed at the brunette’s words.
“You’re safe with me, Jamie.”
“That’s good.” I looked up at him, only to find him staring back. His blue eyes held questions I couldn’t decipher.
“What?” I finally asked, breaking the silence and recognizing the closeness.
“Nothing,” he whispered. “Nothing at all.” I smiled at his words. “You’re very pretty.” My heart fluttered and I looked away.
“Jamie,” I scolded, not wanting to be flustered.
“I’m serious,” he insisted with a giggle. I felt a cold hand touch the side of my neck as he moved my hair. I shivered. “Your beauty is more intimidating than your scowl.” He teased, causing my head to whip back in his direction. I swatted the man’s chest, laughing along with him as he found humor in his own joke.
“You’re mean,” I pouted.
“Please tell me where we’re going.” I laughed, watching his baby blues adopt a puppy dog stare.
“No way. Quit asking.” I pushed myself away from him, only to have him snatch my arm and pull me right back. I laughed, standing to try and get away before he followed suit. Jamie scooped me up into his arms, holding my back against his chest. All I could focus on was his beautiful laughter.
“Please-“ the honk of a horn cut him off. We both looked to see a bright red truck pulling up to the entrance of the building. “Oh wow.. that was fast,” Jamie mumbled before releasing me. He walked to the edge of the sidewalk and opened the back door of the truck. “Ladies first.” He held my hand as I stepped up into the vehicle, and Jamie was quick to follow suit.
“Seems like this date’s going well.” The man in the front seat turned to look at us. “Where are we headed?” I stood up and leaned over the middle console to speak with the man. We eventually settled on typing the address of the location into his phone before I fell back into my seat. The man let out a long whistle that I could tell intrigued Jamie. “Seems like this date is going really well.” The man teased.
“Where are you taking me?” Jamie insisted on asking. I ignored his question, and each one that followed for the entirety of the ride. His focus shifted from myself to the scenery out the window when he noticed we were leaving the city. It wasn’t a long drive, but it was far enough out of the suburbs to be intriguing. We crossed a few bridges, and found ourselves in the midst of a riverside neighborhood before Jamie started to put two and two together. The calm, ‘you have arrived’ of the GPS caused him to look back at me.
“Is this your house?”
“Surprise?” I pushed the car door open and slipped out. “Join me.” It wasn’t a demand. More so a request. Jamie had no issue saying yes. He followed me out of the car.
“Be safe!” The man in the truck called.
“Thanks Ty!” Jamie waved as his friend left, and I was quick to begin rummaging through my clutch for my house keys.
“You live on the river?”
“Wait ‘till you see my back deck.” I guided him to the front door, opening the glass door and unlocking the deadbolt of the actual door. I stepped inside and kicked my flats off as Jamie followed, toeing off his dress shoes. My home was a patchwork of decor. My walls were lined with a fresh yet old looking floral wallpaper, I had China cabinets full of old glassware my grandparents had passed down to me. Somewhere I had knitted quilts and a shelf full of inherited thymbols. The scent of fresh flowers was the leading smell in the home, and Jamie was quick to find the source of that scent as I closed the door. I turned to find him sniffing the pot full of dahlias seated on a stand by the window next to the door.
Why had I never been into men like this before? Whatever uncertainties I had about bringing him home slowly melted away.
“Want anything to drink?” I asked softly, catching his attention.
“What do you have?”
“Fresh iced tea, pop, water.”
“Tea would be nice.” Jamie followed me into the kitchen, taking in the decor as I poured two glasses of tea. When I was done I led him out of the kitchen and into the dining room, giving him his cup. I walked past the table, opening the sliding glass doors to the back deck that stretched out over the riverbank. The fairy lights strung on the roof of the deck glowed in a comforting way. I opened the window next to the glass door where my record player sat.
“You have a beautiful home,” Jamie spoke softly while I searched for a record. I found one and set it up to play before turning the device on.
“Thank you. I don’t like too many modern things.” I stepped outside with Jamie, and sat down on the swing at the edge of the deck. Jamie sat with me.
“Is there a reason you brought me here?”
“It’s private. Intimate.” I shrugged, eyes settling on the river.
“You trust me?”
“Asks the man who hid behind his menu when he sat down. I’d say there isn’t much to be cautious of.” I teased, laughing softly. I turned to face him, draping my legs over his own and leaning my back against one of the arm rests of the swing. “I don’t like to bring men home.” I admitted before taking a sip of my tea. “But that’s because many of them aren’t like you.”
“Thanks?”
“You’re more than welcome to stay the night.” I peeked at him, watching his lips turn upwards into a smile. “I’d hate to make your friend drive back out here this evening.”
“That’s the only reason?” Jamie asked teasingly, resting his free hand on my shin. I laughed.
“Maybe I have more.. but they’re secrets.” I shrugged. “Let’s just say it was a good first date.”
✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾
226 notes · View notes
blackopals-world · 7 months
Text
Motherly Advice
Angst to hurt your feelings
Malleus: Do you think you will ever stop loving Lilia? Even when he dies?
Celestial!Yuu: My dear, a time like that will never come to pass. Because even in death he will be with me. One of those perks of my being. Though we will be saddened to not all be together at once.
Malleus: But what if that wasn't the case? What if he died and you have to live without him?
Celestial!Yuu: Then I would still love him. I will love his memory, the joy we shared, and the precious treasures he gave me. When I look at you, Silver, and Sebek I will see him. In your movements, your expressions and hearts he will be there.
Malleus: And you won't love anyone else?
Celestial!Yuu: That is a heavy question. An answer I can't predict. Lilia and I are mature adults. We understand what obstacles we could face and have discussed them. But that isn't something for you to ponder. You do not have the maturity to understand that yet. Malleus I know this is about that human you've developed feelings for but I will tell you now to be careful. Lilia and I can handle anything right now but it isn't easy. Love is complicated and I know you don't want to hear that but you need more than love to make things work. Love alone isn't enough, even true love requires work and effort. Malleus you have a long life ahead of you. Longer than any human. You must weigh the risks of this fate.
Malleus: Mother, it's fine I understand.
Celestial!Yuu: No, you do not. You have yet to grasp what love really means child. I understand your loneliness and your desire to hold on to the one person who treats you as a dear friend without fear. But, love that does not make. It is like that of a child holding onto a comfort blanket and refusing to let go. You know that human desires to return home yet you'd consider keeping them with you. You both will be miserable when they die of old age and never see their home again. We have filled your head with too many tales.
Malleus: Mother, I know I love them. They will be happy with me. Lilia agrees! He said I should marry them. Do you not like them?
Celestial!Yuu: Just the opposite. I care for them as my own. That is why my heart breaks for them. Lilia and I aren't in agreement on this matter. He has always been shortsighted and seeks instant gratification. That is how we go Silver after all. But I look at the big picture. Malleus I'm a goddess. I know how the human feels. I know they have feelings for you but more then that they are full of grief and longing for their home. That is something you can't change.
Malleus:...
Celestial!Yuu: Malleus I am your mother and I know what you're thinking. And no. You can't use Magic to stop them.
Malleus:Mother don't you want me to be happy?
Celestial!Yuu: Not at the expense of others. We raised you better than that.
Makleus: What can I do?
Celestial!Yuu: Think. Consider what you really want and if this is real love you feel or just infatuation. Tying both of you down in something you may not want ultimately will only bring pain. And be honest with your answer for your sake. I want what's best for you.
-later-
Malleus: Your wife said not to listen to you.
Lilia:(shrugs) She's probably right.
Malleus: How did you get her to marry you?
Lilia: Tricked her with a convoluted bet. I think there is a myth about it now.
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undiscovered-horizon · 4 months
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[Apparently, all it takes for a doomed man to feel hope again is bad flirting and corny jokes. Or maybe it's about the comforting presence of someone he loves?]
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Whether Gale wants it or not, he's a quite predictable person. His reliability seems to extend far enough for you to always be able to correctly guess where he might be when the wizard is not near his tent. Although his tendency for routines might be mistaken for something dull, you've always thought of it as somewhat comforting - that among all the chaos that your life has become, there's a sense of regularity; the comfort of knowing how to navigate certain situations.
Just as you knew he would, Gale is sitting by the riverside. His back is slouched as he mindlessly reaches to grab a blade of grass, tear it off, and let his fingers play with it. Brown eyes would be intently staring at the flowing stream if their owner wasn't so lost in thought.
He hears you coming, dry leaves crumble under your feet but he makes no effort to look over his shoulder. Maybe you're actually a wild raccoon that will finally put him out of his misery... On second thought, that is a rather pathetic end for a wizard as great as him. To die by a raccoon. Ha!
"Hey handsome, come here often?" you ask as you sit down next to him.
Gale's robes once smelled of musty books and seawater but during your travels, they have lost their original fragrance in favour of a fresh aroma of pine needles, campfire smoke and herbal medicine. It gave him an "edge", if such a word could coexist with the wizard's homebody way of life.
"Only when I wish to wallow in pity," he answers. Although it's fleeting, almost secretive, you do notice the glance he gives you.
You raise an eyebrow at his response. "And that's often?"
A sad chuckle rumbles in his chest. Gale looks down at his fingers, for the very first time studying what his hands do with the long blades of grass. "A lot more than I'd like to admit." He actually bothers to make himself sound light-hearted but the dread eating him up has already soaked into his words.
You put your elbow on your knee and rest your chin on top of your hand. The new angle allows you to see more of his face, not that it changes your impression. Something's eating him up. "Is this what pretty wizards frequently engage in? I think I ought to update my schedule."
He looks almost like a painting, you think. The one a cleric would put up at the temple, a depiction of martyrhood in the name of something greater. Normally, you'd shrug at the thought of some poor sod thinking that making themself suffer will somehow please their god. It sounds like a questionable freedom of choice at best. But in Gale's case, you can't just shrug. Not anymore. Not since the two of you made it very obvious there's nothing platonic going on.
"I think you'll find that a moping wizard is hardly treasured company."
"Then maybe I should help him stop moping." Playfully, you bump your shoulder into his.
A sad smile graces his face. His brown eyes give you a quick glance again. Gale just can't help his longing. "As much as I appreciate the thought and the effort," he tries to sound unbothered, "my troubles already take up enough of your time. The others might want to have a word with you too."
Not a thing about Gale's statement surprises you. He's always wearing a facade of "Don't worry about little old me" but having gotten closer to the man, you know he's far from that - he wants someone to worry, only doesn't have the pride to ask for that. Part of him probably thinks he ought to earn the right to take up the space in someone's mind. How silly.
Gale's eyes return to you when he sees your fingers sneaking between his hands and a blade of grass he was playing with. No matter what he might say and how laid back he attempts to appear, all of his half-hearted bluffs dissipate when he forms a tight grip around your fingers.
"And I want to have a few words with you," you tell him in round terms. "Well, I want to have many things with you but I guess I can settle for a good old-fashioned conversation."
"I, erm..." he hangs his voice at your allusion. The blush on his cheeks is barely visible in the darkness of the night but you can tell it's there - his whole body is suddenly on fire. Gale clears his throat. "Enlighten me, then! What sort of lexicon do you wish to bestow upon me?"
You can't help the whole-hearted chuckle that leaves your lips. "You're really adorable when you talk all sophisticated." Gale laughs nervously at the compliment and he's just about to say something back but before he gets the chance, you reveal the truth about your arrival. "On a more serious note, I didn't have any endgame plan. I just thought that I'm going to ask you what's on your mind and no matter what you answer, I'm going to bless you with my presence until one of us falls asleep."
For the first time this evening, Gale's eyes linger on you for a long while. Although his initial embarrassment at your boldness is now gone, a sense of nervousness lingers. But do not misunderstand - it's a welcome kind of tension; the anxiety of holding something dear and fearing breaking it. "I'd very much like that," he answers. A small smile of genuine happiness curves his lips.
Gale momentarily tenses up when you lay your head on his shoulder. Then, as though paradoxically a weight has been lifted from his back, he finds himself sighing.
Strangely enough, he feels... calm. Too caught up in his thoughts of impending doom and past failures, Gale has been oblivious to the good things in his life. Especially in the present. He tries to grasp at the fleeting thoughts he had been pitifully entertaining for the past hour or so but they escape his focus. Now that each of his breathes is filled with the smell of campfire smoke and fragrant oils that stuck to your skin, the doom that had been haunting him before dissipates like storm clouds blown away by the wind. Part of him wants to laugh - the morbid scenarios that once rendered him sleepless seem so trivial now. Gale was dealt a bloody difficult hand, yes, but that doesn't mean it's impossible to play it, does it?
He's known hope for a long time but only now does he see her. And what a wonder it is that she's wearing your face.
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bubbles-for-all-of-us · 8 months
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Azriel being jeolous of His mate’s Fictional boyfriend 😅❤️
Bookish crush
You both are readers. I think that would be something you two would probably bond over. Something that might bring you closer. Get you talking. So the library or a hidden-away corner would be a place you two lingered a lot.
And most evenings it was you pressed against Azriel's chest. Each holding a book. It's such quality time. And knowing that you feel so comfortable in someone's presence that you don't even have to talk is priceless. Although, one of Azriel's hands would be moving through your hair, fingers twisting the ends of it.
Side note, why do I think that if you're super tired Azriel would get his shadows to hold the book for you? Like you could be tucked in a blanket, all snuggled up, maybe even against Azriel's side and the dark mist is just flipping through pages for you.
And Azriel knows about the smutty books that Nesta was giving out to every breathing female around her because Cassian is complaining on the daily how some imaginary dick is making his mate more blushy than he had ever seen. Just Azriel had never seen any of the similar covers among your book piles. Until the "infection" spreads.
It started rather innocently - Azriel walked in on you blushing. Cheeks so bright with crimson they almost looked on fire. He asked you if something happened but you kind of brushed him off, saying something about a cute date and how you suddenly had the urge to kick your feet up and down. Azriel had raised a brow at that but chose not to comment. But his observations stayed sharp.
Azriel is so aware of how your eyes grow big at times, how you just throw your head back, how you silently shout at the pages. He had heard you from another room once. A light screech that was followed by a handful of words that didn't make sense.
"That's it. What's this book about?", Azriel had broken the silence after watching you nearly combusting internally for about twenty minutes. His book now long forgotten. You didn't answer at first and that made Azriel frown slightly, "Y/N!", your eyes shot up as you muttered a quick, "Huh?"
"What are you reading about?", Azriel repeated his question, your eyes fell onto the pages, "Oh, just a love story", you breathed out almost a sigh, "enemies to lovers actually, and he's a grump". Azriel raised an eyebrow at you, "So why are you doing all of this?". Now it was your turn to crock your head to the side, "What this?"
Azriel said nothing at first. Just watching you. He wondered if he should mention it at all. Maybe you were just a reader who had a lot of expressions. "Well, why are you throwing your head up? Getting all giddy? Looking at that book like...", and Azriel stops because your cheeks are as crimson now as before. He moves forward, "Let me see,", "NO!", you nearly scream, making him stop. "Why not, come on...", Azriel tries to reach for the hardcover again but you press it closer to your chest.
"Just there's a male and he's... like very adorable", you blur out, "He's just uhh...", Azriel's big eyes watched you, "He's uhh... uhh? What does uhh mean?". You looked at Azriel for a moment, debating what to tell him. It was one thing talking about silly book crushes to the girls, completely different admitting it to someone you fancied in real life.
"Well... There's a male here", you tapped the cover of the book you were reading, "Tall, handsome, dark feathers. A true romantic. You could say a man written by a woman", your words sounded so true and honest that Azriel couldn't help but tighten his jaw. "And you're blushing because?", he asked casually. "Well... I fancy him like well no... not him... well the idea of that", you said messily and now Azriel was frowning. Did you fancy some bloke in a book? What did he have that Azriel didn't?
"Right... let me read it", Azriel reached for the book again. "No, Az, it is silly", you shook your head. "Well, no it is not. Because you fancy him and I've here been trying to smitten you for months but it doesn't seem to work so give me the book", Azriel blurred out and it felt as if he didn't mean to say most of it allowed. "You don't need to compete with him and for the record, I do like you", you mumbled, dropping the book to the side as you inched closer to the spymaster. His hands pulled you closer, "Still don't like that there is any version of a male that gets you all blushy", Azriel grumbled and you let out a chuckle, "Should I make you a list of things I like about him?", you teased and Azriel rolled his eyes. Yet his shadows were already tucking the book deep within their black swirl for an in-depth investigation later on.
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emotionoitme · 9 months
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human, for a minute
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part three of about a girl
read part two here
carmy berzatto x reader
warnings: angst, mentions of a stalker, mutual pining feels, crying, carmen in denial, a hint of steaminess
wc: 4.7k
a/n: angst chapter!!!!! i hope i make u all cry >:) please leave me a comment to let me know what you think! <3 i’ll be posting a spotify playlist link on my page for the series soon. if you’re enjoying the story stay tuned for one more part!
shame - human, for a minute
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the phone rings again, for what seems to be the fiftieth time, blaring through the restaurant in a piercing shrill. clamor of utensils and dishware, the occasional shout of instruction breaking the static noise. the man feels a headache creeping on, trying to force himself to not check the clock again. it hadn’t been long since he last checked it, and he knew he would regret it the moment he did. his eyes dart upwards. it’s 1:35. 
she wasn't supposed to come in until 3, scheduled to close that night, he reminds himself. in that moment he craved the sense of peace she brought to the environment, the noticeable ease in dinner services within the past five months of her employment reasserting her essentiality. orders were smoother, customers were happier, shifts seemed shorter. he also found it thoroughly grounding to be able to look up from his work, through the expo window and watch her for just a moment, not that he would admit to it. he had dropped her off at home on his way to the restaurant that morning, watching her walk up her complex stairs clad in a white shirt and a pair of hanes, both borrowed, and noticeably oversized. 
he cuts back to his task at hand, setting a plate down, drizzling a sauce over the surface, not checking the clock. 
he thinks back to when he had gently woken her hours earlier. slipping out of bed at the sound of his alarm, hand groggily coming to rub his face, making his way to the bathroom. he practically forgot she was there in his tired haze, the memories of the night flooding back to him when he returned to the bedroom, staring at her sleeping form. his heart inexplicably ached at the sight as he gently opened his dresser drawers, beginning to get ready for work. he dresses, mentally rattling off things that need to be done at the restaurant, running his hands through his unruly bed head. he brushes his teeth, locates his keys and wallet, and puts on his socks all before making his way back over to the sleeping girl. 
he wanted to leave her there, come back home and find her waiting there just for him. the man checked the time on his phone, nearing 7 o’clock. he leans over the bed, placing a hand on her side and lightly rubbing. she shifts, blinking awake, meeting his eyes. 
“hey,” he greets softly, brushing her hair behind her ear, resting his hand on her for a moment. she sleepily smiles, eyes bleary. 
“morning,” she responds quietly, looking him over, “you gotta go?” 
he nods, internalizing his disappointment, removing his hand from her hair. 
“okay,” she responds, rubbing her eyes, “i’ll get up.” she slowly sits up, holding the blanket to her bare chest, trying to blink away the sleepiness. carmy notices the slight sway in her seated form, eyes heavy, watching a small shiver pass over her. 
“you can stay,” he tells her, “go back to sleep if you want.”
she looks up to his standing form, tempted to accept his offer, wanting nothing more than to stay cozied up in a bed that smells like him. she rationalizes the situation, though, tying her hair up out of her face. she wasn’t going to overstay her welcome, telling herself, he’s just trying to be nice. 
“you’re not scared of me snooping through your stuff?” she asks, eyebrow raising a bit. he lets out a laugh, slightly taken aback by her question. 
“would you?” he asks. 
she thinks for a moment, head tilting.
“probably not…but you would never know if i did,” she answers, grinning. he smiles in amusement, quickly raking his eyes over her face, trailing down to her collarbones, shoulders, exposed back. 
“do you think you could take me home?” she asks, “on your way to work?”
“yeah,” he answers, “yeah, of course.” to which she smiles in response. 
she goes to get out of bed when she remembers her nudity concealed by the sheet, pausing, embarrassment evident on her face. he smiles at her hesitation, the girl acting as if he hadn’t seen her stark naked the night before. she turns to him, “can i also borrow something to wear home?” she asks, “please? i wanna get back in bed.” 
in that moment he couldn’t fathom saying no to her, immediately grabbing her a few things she could choose from, her selecting a plain white shirt and a pair of his checkered boxers. she gets out of bed, skin raised in goosebumps from the chill morning, slipping his shirt over her head, then walking past carmen to the living room, searching for her discarded panties. the man watched her, entranced, surprised at how viscerally affected he was at the sight. he loved the way she looked in his clothes, debating telling her to keep them forever. 
he tries to ignore the implications of their time together, as he stands over the finished plate, phone on the wall still ringing. 
“hands!” he calls, moving away from the dish, wiping his hands on the rag draped over his shoulder.
fuck, he thinks, what am i doing?
everything had been moving so fast— having told himself prior he wouldn’t pursue her at all, let alone invite her to stay the night wrapped in his arms, mind completely clouded with the thought of her. he thinks to his initial intention, a quick hookup, something to help him let off some steam, alleviate the pressure that built within him the second he laid eyes on her. it didn’t alleviate anything, though, finding himself stuck on the thought of her more now than ever. 
“fuck, can i get some hands, please?” carmen yells out, already busied by the next task, eyebrows furrowed and jaw tight. 
it was like he was trying to quit a drug by injecting it directly into his veins, incessantly tortured by his inner dilemma surrounding her. it was apparent to many that the restaurant required her help, especially amidst a rush much like the one happening now. he knew this. knew that she couldn’t continue to work here if the two of them were to grow closer than they already had, their current relationship being a major conflict of interest, to say the least. 
gotta put an end to it, he tells himself, chest tightening at the thought. he shakes this away, takes a deep breath and refocuses himself on his work. he glances up at the clock again. an hour left. he rips his eyes away, mentally chastising himself. 
i have to tell her today, the thought creating a sinking in his stomach. 
she flings open the heavy metal door, quickly finding safety inside, heart rapidly beating from her rushed pace. she lets out a shaky breath, trying to calm herself. she walks further inside, opening a locker and setting her bag down, zoning out for a second, deeply perturbed by what she had experienced on her commute. 
“hey, welcome in,” she hears a chipper voice, turning to see sydney. 
“hey. thanks chef,” she responds softly, taking a moment to process the simple greeting, tying her hair back out of her face. the girl, heavy in thought, slowly makes her way to the front of store, passing by carmen’s office, his door ajar. 
“hey, chef,” she hears him call out to her. she pauses, turning to the seated man. 
“hi,” she gently greets, attempting to silence the waver in her tone. she pauses, looking at him, debating to tell him what happened. 
“you okay?” he asks, concern on his face. she decides to shake it off, wanting to get through this shift without any tears, go home, crawl under her covers and never come out again. 
“yeah,” she nods, “i’m okay.”
carmen keeps the same expression, tilting his head slightly, not fully believing her. she looks away from him, feeling as if by locking eyes she would bare her soul. he narrows his gaze, studying the girl, and she feels herself cracking. 
“i’ll tell you later,” she compromises, crossing her arms.  
“okay,” he accepts, nodding, eyeing her form before she turns to walk to the front of house.
the man feels a slight churn in his stomach, wondering if she would beat him to the conversation he wanted to initiate. except she had looked pale, almost like she had seen a ghost. he rubs his hand over his face, leaning back in his chair, letting out a heavy sigh. 
the dinner shift that night was hectic beyond belief. broken dishes, incorrect tickets, increased waiting times— the kitchen was tense, carmen rounding off orders, sydney bustling back and forth between stations to assist. the usual rhythm the dinner crew seemed to fall into proved to be virtually nonexistent. the young woman at the front blamed herself for his, her head completely out of it tonight. she had punched in orders wrong, mixed up drink requests, misplaced seating sections. she brought her hand up to rub her forehead, trying to fix an error she had entered into their system, brain pulsing with a headache. she refused to check the clock, knowing she must be only four or five hours in at this point. her brain felt foggy, clouded by the jarring things that had been said to her on her walk to work.
i’ll get some cold water and go take a breath in the back, she thinks, trying to mentally encourage herself through the shift. she quickly walks to the back, trying to be as fast as she can, squeezing through the kitchen and darting for the back room. her body feels hot, panicked, as she nears the last turn.
“corner!” she hears all too late, slamming face first into a firm chest, the impact knocking the air out of her lungs for a moment. 
“shit!” he curses, tightly grabbing her hips on instinct to steady her. she lets out a labored breath, bringing her head up to her forehead, pounding even harder. she looks up to meet carmy’s gaze, embarrassment on her face.
“corner, chef?” he asks, brow creased, letting his hands linger for a moment before letting go of her. 
“i’m sorry, chef,” she breathes out, tears brimming at her eyes, a waver in her tone. the frustration on his face is replaced by a look of concern, bringing his hand to touch her arm. 
“hey,” he says softly, “you alright?” 
she takes a deep breath, knot heavy at the back of her throat. 
“i’m alright,” she answers gently, “i just need a second.”  
he softly says her name, deeply searching her eyes as if they would present to him all her troubles. 
“i just don’t wanna think about it right now,” she whispers, lip beginning to tremble. 
“okay, sweetheart, that’s fine,” he reassures her, the name slipping off his tongue unintentionally. she wants to cry, dive into his arms hearing his soft tone, quickly wiping a tear before it can slip down her face. 
“why don’t you go sit in the office, huh? take a breather,” he suggests. 
she nods, looking down to her shoes. he gives her arm a soft pat before removing it altogether, walking past her to the kitchen. the sight of her anguish was admittedly difficult for carmen to see, his mind rattling with possibilities of what could be upsetting her so badly. he waited in anticipation for closing time, trying to keep a close eye on the girl throughout the night, who seemed to be falling back into rhythm after her short break. the last three hours of business wrapped up quickly, staff numbers dwindling more and more as the night progressed. carmy spent the last thirty minutes of the night in his confined office, sorting through licenses and finalizing next week’s schedule into the system. he turns the computer off, closing his eyes for a moment to alleviate the strain he felt, reveling in the quiet. rising from the chair and stretching, he walks through the small office door, turning the corner to come into the kitchen. his eyes land on her, wiping the pristine flat top with a dry rag. she looks up at the movement, hard gaze softening at the sight of him. 
“hey,” she greets softly, “i’m all done. just finishing the counters.”
“looks great, thank you,” he returns, nodding. she gives a small smile at the praise but he can still notice a heaviness upon her demeanor, eyes more dull than they usually are. 
“i’m, uh, just gonna smoke,” he continues, “then i’ll take you home, alright?”
she nods. “thank you,” meeting his gaze, drifting her eyes over his incredibly handsome face. she doesn’t make any small talk, drying the last wet spot and walking to the back to toss the dirty towel in a hamper. carmen walks back into his office, removing his apron and pulling his wallet, keys, cigarettes from the drawer. he then switches off the small desk lamp, coating the room in thick darkness. he emerges towards the glow of the kitchen fluorescents, the girl washing her hands, drying them, and walking to retrieve her belongings out of a locker. they silently make their way outside, carmy turning off the lights behind them and shutting the back door. they both revel in the fresh air of the cool night, a sense of serenity in the silence that engulfed the alleyway. he hears her take a deep breath, fishing a cigarette from his carton and placing it in between his lips. he shoves his hand into his pocket, finding only his wallet and keys. he checks his other one, then the back pockets. 
“fuck,” he swears, head falling back against the metal door, nerves pricking with inclination. he turns to the non-smoker in a glimpse of yielding hope, “you got a light?” he asks. she stares forward, fixated on the same point, leaning against the same door. it takes her a second for her to meet his eyes in a glance, her response delayed 
“lighter? uh, yeah i think,” she answers, beginning to dig through her bag. she pulls out a bright blue bic, and he chuckles in relief. she hands it to the man, his fingers sliding over hers as he takes it from her. carmy ignites the flame, bringing it to the tip of the cigarette and deeply inhaling, a noticeable tension subsiding within him. he goes to hand the lighter back to her.
“keep it,” she tells him, bumping her shoulder against his lightly. he smiles, pocketing the blue object. 
“thank you,” he responds, genuinely, taking another long drag. the two share a beat of silence, the girl unmoving from her position, shoulder flush against his. a breeze sweeps through the street, calm after the storm. 
he clears his throat. 
“so you, uh, gonna tell me what happened?” his tone soft, keeping his eyes trained forward. he feels her deeply inhale, mentally preparing himself for the worst. she thinks for a moment, piecing together her explanation. a cloud of smoke seeps through the alleyway from carmen. 
“you know how i used to work at ricky’s?” she starts. he glances at her, nodding. “well, um,” she continues, “there was this regular that we had, some older guy. he was always there during my shifts,” she hesitates, “and, uh, he turned out to be kind of a creep.”  
carmen turns to her, watching her closely now. 
“like, he would wait for outside for me until i was off and try to talk to me,” she explains, voice beginning to strain, “and, uh, he got my phone number somehow? and started sending me these terrible messages.” the man holds her in an unwavering gaze, his jaw tightening. he takes a drag of his cigarette, watching her. 
“so, i got a new number,” she clarifies, “and uh, a new job,” glancing at him, “and everything stopped.” her eyes start to brim with tears. 
“okay,” he encourages, eyebrows deeply furrowed, but tone soft and sweet. he stubs his cigarette out, tossing it. she takes a shaky breath. 
“and then this morning i was walking here,” quickly bringing her hand up to wipe a stray tear, “and this truck pulled up next to me,” her throat grows tight and hot, “and it was him, carmy,” she lets out in a sob. he instinctively pulls her into his arms, wrapping around her tightly, resting his head on hers. his gaze was fixated behind the girl on the ground, a hot wave of anger burning beneath his skin. 
“what happened?” he asks, an urgency in his words. 
she buries her face into his chest, slightly shaking, tears soaking his white shirt. 
“he said all these…horrible things to me,” she sobs out, grabbing onto him as if he were her lifeline. he puts his hand on her hip, pulling back slightly to look at her, worry spread over his features, tears pouring down her cheeks, face flushed. 
“hey,” he says in a concerned tone, her puffy eyes coming to meet his. carmen tightens the arm around her back, whispering her name, “what did he say to you, baby?” he really never means to call her that, it just slips out. 
she bites back a sob, wishing she could melt into the man— escape from everything, remain engulfed in the soothing warmth of his safety forever. 
“i can’t, carmy,” she cries, shaking her head. he feels a pit in his stomach, anxiety prickling through his body. 
“okay,” he concedes, nodding, “that’s okay, you don’t have to right now.” he scans her face, bringing a hand to her cheek and gently wiping the tears from her eyes. 
“you don’t have anything to worry about now,” he tells her, voice low, “i’m gonna take care of you, okay? that fucko isn’t gonna come anywhere near you,” he asserts, gripping her tightly. 
“okay,” she whispers, the weightless feeling of the tremendous fear alleviating in her chest. 
“let’s get you home, yeah?” he asks her, watching the girl shut her eyes, nodding, a few stray tears rolling down her cheek and sliding off her jaw, bringing her sleeves up to dry them. carmy keeps his hand wrapped around her hip, turning to slowly walk her to the car. he felt an overwhelming possessiveness clouding his rationality— an unyielding urge to do whatever he can to protect her, the thought of another man even looking at her wrong electrifying him with anger. they arrive at the passenger’s side, carmy opening the door for her and helping her into the car as she mutters a soft thanks. he closes her door, letting out a deep sigh, plagued by indecision, catching a glimpse of his reflection in the dark car window. the answer would be incredibly simple had he chosen to go with his heart, but carmen was reluctant in trusting something that had previously brought him only distraction and turmoil. he’s gonna be logical about this, he decides, reassuring himself no good boss should be fucking around with his young employees. he wanted to be a good man to her, too, feeling undeserving of her attention, her loving gaze. he makes his way to the driver’s door, getting into the car. he starts the ignition, pulling out of the alleyway into the street, turning in the direction of her apartment. the short ride was quiet, the exception of a few spare sniffles sounding from the girl. a soft melody played on the radio, drowning out the hum of the road. he glances to her, the girl’s gaze fixed on the passing surroundings outside her window. he turns down the music, slightly. 
“you did good today,” he praises, impressed by her resilience. she lets out a scoff. 
“i cried in your office for like ten minutes straight,” she responds, watching the light of the moving street lamps bleed together. 
“i know,” his voice gentle, low, “i’m still proud of ‘ya,” he tells the sulking girl. she finds herself start to smile very softly at this, the man’s words warming the chill she had felt since being approached by the strange man. he slowly pulls up to her complex, shifting the gear into park, the girl undoing her seatbelt. 
“carm,” she calls, directing the man’s attention to her, eyes expectantly meeting hers. she feels at a bit lost for words, unsure of how to express the tremendous gratitude she felt for him, how to express to him how much she feels she needs him. so instead she just leans forward, throwing her arms around the man, burying her head into his neck. he lets out a breath at the unexpected touch, wrapping his arms around her, bringing a hand up to grasp the back of her neck. 
“thank you,” she whispers into him, “for everything.” 
his heart clenches, a deep ache growing in his chest. 
“you shouldn’t thank me,” he softly responds, holding her close to him, feeling entirely unworthy of the gratitude, knowing soon enough he would have to hurt her— end things completely. 
she pulls back, bringing her forehead to his, closing her eyes. 
“come inside?” she asks him, breath gracing his lips, “please,” she pleads. 
carmen’s eyes flutter shut, sliding his hand from the back of her neck to the side, grabbing, savoring her sweet scent. he feels something ignite within him touching her like this, nose brushing against hers. he wants so badly to lean forward, engulf her lips in his, taste her. he lets out a groan, forcing himself to pull away from her, dropping his hand from her neck. he sighs, hesitating for a moment, fighting against every urge within him. 
“i, uh… i can’t,” he tells her, drawing his gaze away from her, towards the illumination of his headlamps on the asphalt. she presses her hands onto the center console, turning and leaning over it to the man. she brings a hand to his face, pulling him in slightly, dipping her head into his neck to gently pepper kisses along his skin. her hand slides to his firm chest, pressing into him. his head falls back, clenching his jaw, rationality crumbling rapidly beneath her lips. 
“please, carmy,” she prays into his skin, “come make me feel better,” biting to leave a small mark. he feels hot from the inside out, blood rushes through him, a growing pulse beneath his pants. he takes a deep breath, trying to recenter himself, focus on anything but the feeling of her against him. he says her name, sternly, the girl pulling away at his tone, meeting his gaze. he shuts his eyes tightly, running a hand over his face. 
i guess it’s now or never. 
“we, uh… we can’t,” he sighs, pausing, piecing his words together. “we can’t do this anymore.” 
her expression remains flat, brows slightly furrowed. 
“do what?” she asks carefully, sitting back in her seat, away from him. he just looks at her, implication in his silence. her brows set further, biting her lip to stop it from trembling. the look in her eyes is almost disbelief, a gnawing forms deep within carmen’s stomach. she shakes her head, slightly.
“where is this coming from?” she asks, voice quiet. he can’t bring himself to meet her eyes in the moment. 
“i don’t want this to go… too far,” he hesitates, throwing her a quick glance, “I don't-,” pushing his hair back, taking a breath. she brings her hand to rest on his, moving closer. 
“i don’t want to hurt you,” he admits, locking eyes with her, finding serenity in the depths of her irises, his shoulders noticeably untensing, leaning further in towards her when he doesn’t mean to. she scoots closer, her hands cold on his, falling deeply into his cerulean gaze. he selfishly pulls her into him, once more, strong arm coming to wrap around her, holding her against him, her arms coming to clutch his shirt. he smells her sweet perfume, deeply inhaling, feeling almost human for a moment. she pulls back just slightly, her cheek brushing against his, coming to rest her forehead against his once more, almost as if it would ease the pain. she shuts her eyes, inching impossibly closer, eager to feel him pressed against her. 
“i don’t want you to either,” she whispers, tears burning behind her tightly shut eyes. his hand comes up to the base of her neck, carding his fingers up through her hair, softly grabbing. she sighs against his lips, yearning. 
so close. 
hearts pounding, skin hot, faces flush. 
fuck it. 
she leans forward, finally pressing her lips against his— warm, plump, so incredibly soft— the two moaning in tandem at the sensation. it’s almost overwhelming for carmen, his breath hitching at the contact, selfishly letting himself melt into her, the best thing he’s ever had on his lips. he knows this will blur lines between them even more, complicate, hurt, but he didn’t care, their kisses soft and slow, electrifying nerves. he grabs her hair, tighter, pulling her closer to him, gently sliding his tongue along her bottom lip. she accepts it, kissing him deeply, letting out a whimper, grabbing whatever she can of him, desperate to fully feel him against her. her hands fall onto the muscle of his bicep, squeezing, the pressure of his lips hot against hers, marveling at the intensity of the kiss. teeth clash, tongues embrace, pulling, grabbing, each exchanging a small piece of their soul through the heat of their lips. his free hand grabs her waist, slow, hot kisses increasing in ferocity, his mind feeling completely numb to any previous objection. she sucks his lip, lightly, the man groaning deeply, the sensation of her mouth greater than anything he’d ever experienced. he deepens the kiss. her core aches, wanting to hoist herself up, slide in between him and the steering wheel, have him take her right in his car. but she pulled away with a final few kisses, the two breathing heavily, car windows fogging with condensation. he frowns at the loss of contact, opening his eyes, meeting her face, lips swollen, eyes low. 
“you’re right,” she admits, quietly. he looks at her in confusion, needing to feel her again. she bites her lip, a few tears growing in her eyes. “we need to stop,” a whisper. 
his lungs tighten, pit in his stomach. he shouldn’t have kissed her back, he thinks, head spinning. 
she wipes an escaped tear, leaning forward to hug him once more, savoring the feeling of him, safe and solid. he doesn’t know what to say, so he just holds her tightly, for what he knows to be the last time. she sniffles, coming back to kiss his cheek, then pulling away completely, grabbing her bag off the floor of his car. 
“thanks for the ride,” she tells him quietly, opening the door, locking eyes with him, the two with a mutual look of pain behind their gaze. he just nods, not trusting his voice. she steps out into the summer night, taking a deep breath, turning back to him. 
“goodnight, carm,” shutting the car door and walking to the stairs of her complex. once her back is to him, she lets the salty tears stream down her face, knot in her throat, face hot with embarrassment, heart clenching inexplicably. she knew this would happen, so why did it hurt so bad? 
it was never supposed to go this far, but it did. 
small fragments of heart scattering behind her like crumbled porcelain, leading back to the idling car where he sat, numb. 
fuck, he curses himself as soon as the door shuts. he tries taking deep breaths to calm himself, to no avail, the space of the car now feeling confined as if it were closing in on him. 
“fuck!” he yells, slamming his hand against the steering wheel. it was supposed to be the right decision— things were never supposed to go so far. so why did it feel like his heart was shattering beneath the weight of his ribs? 
he watches her trudge up the stairs, her shoulders visibly shaking. 
i really hope you liked it! final part coming soon, and will be a long one! <3
thank you for your continued support on this series!! :)
part 4 - under the moon
682 notes · View notes
treysimp · 2 years
Text
I don't know how else to say this, do you want to make out on my couch? (Explicit Remix)
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Side: Riddle Rosehearts/AFAB!Reader (Reader has a vagina)
Riddle/AMAB!Reader
As per our vote (thank you again for voting!) Riddle is the next spicy couch series conclusion. According to said vote, next in line is Azul. Do you all agree?
This is a partial continuation of the work “Do You Want to Make Out on My Couch (Part 6)”. Said fic is also included below if you want to re-read the beginning or this is your first time seeing this work.
Reader not described other than their junk, and pronouns are not used for them.
Warnings: Explicit sexual content, M/F sexual relations, handjobs, PIV sex, ask to tag for more.
Want more TWST? Here's my masterlist!
To skip straight to the action, scroll to the next picture of Riddle, thanks!
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“Really!” Riddle sputters, his brows knit in irritation “you should…. you really…” he trails off, his eyes frantically darting around your face as if a puzzle piece would magically fall into place if he just had the final hint.
“…You should ask in a more romantic way than that.” He finally finished, fingers drifting to your tie to straighten the lopsided knot.
Your eyebrows involuntarily raised to the sky.
“Is that a no, house warden?” You ask. You wanted to start hysterically laughing, oh my God how could he possibly be so cute? 
Waiting for his response, you placed your hands on top of his to still the fingers that had been fussing over your tie. 
You were going to get him to answer your question in a forthright manner if it killed you.
“It’s not-not a no!” Riddle sputtered, pretending to wipe his mouth with his sleeve to hide away his increasingly flustered face. You noted that he had kept his other hand in your grasp though, feeling him shake gently beneath you.
“Next time I expect flowers! Or chocolate!” He finally shouted, pulling both of his hands away to cross them over his chest haughtily. You couldn’t hide the grin splitting your face.
“Oh? You’re already planning on next time?” You said, smoothing your hand over his ruby hair. 
Riddle seemed to finally register his slip of the tongue as his face lit as scarlet as the rest of him. 
“No!” Riddle practically screamed. You were glad Grim wasn’t here tonight, as he definitely would have woken up upon hearing this exchange.
You raised an eyebrow, “No?” 
Riddle’s gaze was fixed on the floor, face knit in irritation. 
“Only if you play your cards right.” He finished, turning his head away with a huff. 
You couldn’t stop the giggling that bubbled from your chest, God he was the cutest. How did he do it? 
Not being able to help yourself, you wound your arms around his body, pulling him close to you as you buried your head in his neck. 
Unsurprisingly he smelled great, like sweets and roses and some other sort of soft musk that was no doubt from some sort of expensive atelier. It was so charming the things he did to take care of himself for the sake of appearances. 
You idly wondered if there was a rule about smelling good in Heartslabyul. There probably was, but you decided that asking would only mortify Riddle further, and you wanted to get him to do more than talk to you tonight. 
Riddle was stiff as a board, arms hovering around you awkwardly for a moment until he finally relaxed, pulling you snugly into his arms. 
“Do you really want to kiss me?” You could barely hear Riddle mumble, his voice muffled by your hair as he nuzzled it into your neck to mirror the way you had been holding him. 
You pulled away slowly and held him by the shoulders, eyes boring into his shy grey gaze. You took a moment to take in the loveliness of his face for just a moment, relishing in the closeness you had never been afforded before now. The red eyeliner around his lashes, the rosy sheen of his heart-shaped mouth, and a tiny mole you had never noticed on top of his eyelid. So lovely.
“Yes. I do.” You said softly. 
If you could believe it, Riddle got even redder. He cleared his throat and seemed to make an internal decision, twining his hands behind your neck as he pushed himself forward to meet your lips. 
His lips were stiff but very, very soft. You pressed gently against him, massaging your mouth against his in hopes of loosening him up. It seemed to work, as you heard the smallest of moans as Riddle tried to mirror your movements, lightly sucking on your lower lip. It was shy, but also heartbreakingly genuine and careful. 
You both separated slowly, you wished you could take a picture of the expression on his face. 
Gorgeous eyes half open, glossy lips slightly swollen from the contact, he pulled the bottom of said lips into his mouth to chew on it lightly as he snapped his gaze to the side. How was he even real? His beauty shines like a fairy tale prince, and yet this gorgeous boy thought himself a villain. How ironic. 
“Again.” He whispered, pushing his face back towards you with more aggressive energy, seemingly having gained confidence now that the spell of your first kiss was broken. 
His kisses sped up and gained in ferocity, each time you separated for breath being punctuated with another ‘again’. His affection grew more demanding, his chest grew tighter and each breath became more labored. 
“Let me inside.” Riddle finally demanded, his hands curled into the lapels of your jacket. “I want to come inside.” 
You swallowed audibly and nodded, pushing the door open while Riddle pulled you inside of Ramshackle.   
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Now that the dam of tension had broken, Riddle was adorably needy.
He ushered you to the couch, pushing you down and continuing to pepper kisses on your face as he whispered little compliments and appreciations to you, almost inaudible between the soft smacks. 
Pulling his face away from yours for a moment, you stroked his cheek with your thumb, taking in the soft flush of his face and the way that his wide grey eyes scanned your face frantically for an explanation as to why you stopped him. 
“What is it?” He questioned, putting one hand over yours as he worried over his lip anxiously. 
You shook your head and stifled a laugh. Where did all that confidence go? 
“You’re just beautiful, is all. I wanted to appreciate it.” You teased, happy to see how much your every move affected him. 
It was charming to see the faces he made when he was overthinking, though you would prefer that he relaxed a bit more sometimes.
Riddle inhaled through his nose loudly and steeled himself. A strange reaction to a compliment, you thought. 
Riddle grabbed you by the lapels and shook you lightly. Face pinched in a clearly frustrated frown.
“H-how can you-! How can you say stuff like that so easily! It’s infuriating!” He huffed, then sighed, then buried his head into the crook of your neck. 
His next words were quieted even further by your skin.
“How can you say something so romantic? So… like a fairy tale…” He murmured. “I’ve been in love with you all this time and you just… come out and say this? How am I supposed to act?” 
Riddle was lost, trapped between happiness and panic. He had convinced himself that he didn’t need affection, he just needed order. 
Much to his discomfort, his thoughts felt even more chaotic than ever when faced with one of his most secret desires coming true. He couldn’t decide if the tears threatening to spill from his eyes were ones of happiness or sorrow.
“Riddle…” You whispered, wrapping your arms around his shaking frame. “Do you really want this? It’s okay if you don’t.”
Riddle bolted up to attention and shook his head violently.
“No! Absolutely not! I-I want you! Desperately!” His proclamation was a bit over the top, but it made you smile. 
Everything about him was just a little over the top after all, why would love be any different? It was what drew you to him. 
“Okay then… what do you want to do?”
Riddle hesitated, clearly puzzled over this question. What did he want? 
You sat in the comfortable silence for a moment, but it seemed that he was pretty deep in his head. You decided to offer your own option instead.
“Riddle, I want to make you feel good. Will you let me?” You asked, propping yourself up on your elbows to get a better look at his face.
Riddle nodded stiffly and slowly crawled backwards as you rose to meet him. Eyes fixed on your lips while he tried to smooth out the wrinkles in his clothing. He was clearly doing this out of habit, considering the fact that his clothes being out of place was your fault anyway.
You approached him carefully, sliding your fingers under the collar of his shirt as you coaxed each closure undone, holding your breath as you got a peek at each additional inch of his perfect doll-like complexion. 
Riddle was visibly shivering, lightly gasping and leaning into your touch each time that cold fingers happened to make fleeting contact with his bare skin. Finally unbuttoning enough to push the shirt off his shoulders, his torso revealed bare. 
You started slowly, giving him unhurried and smooth kisses on his lips as you gently massaged his body with your hands. 
He was so unbelievably soft, but you could feel the slim muscles that lay under his skin as well, clearly having benefited from his riding practice. 
You took joy in watching the goosebumps form on his skin as you slowly trailed your mouth down his body, fluttering butterfly kisses punctuated by each little whimper and gasp that spilled out of his mouth. 
Riddle had clamped a hand over his mouth in embarrassment, and while you wanted to hear his sounds better, you let him have that one piece of comfort. 
It was cute, and unsurprisingly as someone who liked Riddle this much, you were easily swayed by cute things.
Finally trailing your kisses to his abdomen, you unbuckled his belt and started to make quick work of his pants, silently proud in how you could tell how aroused he was by the tightness of the fit. 
After getting his zipper down, you placed your fingers on the waistband of his underwear, patiently waiting to see if he would let you so forward or ask you to stop. You were willing to do whatever he asked of you. 
“Please…” He whined, a strand of ruby hair falling into his face and sticking to his cheek. You reached up and tucked the offending hair behind his ear.
“Anything for you.” You said, pulling his pants down teasingly slow. 
Finally springing out of the restriction of his underwear, Riddle let out a barely audible sigh of relief. 
You were surprised, quite frankly. 
He wasn’t hung, per se, but what he did have far exceeded what you would proportionally expect of his small and soft body. He was pale and smooth, petal pink at the tip, with a generous curve to the sky. You pushed back the thought of where that curve might be able to hit for later, you were taking care of him right now, after all. 
You gingerly ran your fingertips over the softness of his skin, keeping your eyes locked on Riddle’s face to see every change in expression and twitch that hinted at his quickly crumbling composure. He was harshly biting his lip, and you could see that his ever-present flush of red had crawled down from his face to his chest. 
You started stroking him gently, not too fast, just ghosting touches along him. You worried that too much too fast would overwhelm him, and you wanted Riddle to enjoy this for as long as possible. 
Gripping him loosely, you started at a slow tempo, watching the way his thighs would twitch when you ran your thumb softly over the bulb of his head. 
You had internally compared him to a doll, but perhaps he was actually an angel. 
Watching the way that Riddle’s back arched off of the couch in yearning as you began varying the pace of your pumps, you certainly felt like you were having a religious experience. 
The way his soft grey eyes rolled back in his head, the way his arms and body tensed and relaxed with each stroke, it was mesmerizing. 
You couldn’t take your eyes off of him.
You heard Riddle softly call your name, so you shifted your focus back to his face. Nibbling along his neck as your pace turned strong and slow, you started milking him in a way that made his hips harshly buck into your hand. 
“Yes, Riddle?” You cooed between barely-there kisses. “How can I help you?”
Riddle looked up at you with glassy lust-heavy eyes.  
“I’wanna…” He gasped, urging his length into your hand at a particularly harsh stroke, “I wanna make you feel good too.” 
His words were slightly slurred, and he looked almost drunk on the feeling of your touch on him, his gaze wandering from your hand to your face and back again. 
“Oh?” You tease, spitting onto your hand and adding the moisture to the steady build-up of pre-cum that Riddle had been supplying you with.  
Your effort was met by another heady moan and then a hand harshly catching your wrist, causing you to stop your motions in surprise. 
“Let me fuck you… please?” Riddle asked between pants, the hand that had grabbed yours clearly shaking.
You swallowed audibly with a gulp.  
Well.. you always were a sucker for cute things.
He made quicker work of your clothes than you had his, perhaps owing to all of the beautiful yet complicated outfits that we wore regularly. 
Riddle's face was knit into a frown of concentration. The process of him taking your clothes off was a little less than sexy, but his innocently-serious charm made up for it.
Upon spying the skin of your chest, he froze. Staring at the pertness of your nipples in the cold air and the softness of your skin, he couldn't resist reaching forward to cup your chest softly, massaging the area with tender care. 
“Ah.. that feels good Riddle.” You say in encouragement. 
If he really wanted to make you feel good, you were going to make an effort to tell him when he got it right. You moved your hands over his to knead your chest a bit more aggressively and to lightly pinch at your nipples. 
Riddle froze for a moment again at your demonstration, but quickly got the hang of the motions, causing your breath to come out in shaky puffs. 
Riddle had made his way to your bottoms, undoing your buttons and sliding them down from your waist. He observed the small wet spot that had been forming on your underwear with pride, knowing that he was the one making this mess of you made his heart swell. 
He hooked his fingers under the garment and pulled, revealing you wholly bare to him. His breath caught in his throat at the view.
“...Like an angel.” He murmured reverently, pulling you to him to passionately kiss you once more. 
How ironic for him to say that, you thought.
The hard heat of Riddle's length had begun grinding against your thigh, his moans matching the tempo of his length rutting into you. Hands returned to messily groping at your chest, open mouthed kisses spread across your face, neck and chest. 
Sitting back on his feet to catch his breath and the rapid beating of his heart, Riddle grabbed his length in his hand and stroked it softly, staring directly into your eyes.
“Can I feel you?” He asked, looking at you through his thick lashes. You nodded and opened your arms to invite him to you. You wanted to feel him more than anything. 
Riddle started slow, rubbing his tip up and down your slit to gather some of the moisture that you had been so kindly supplying for him.
Remembering what you had done a few moments prior, Riddle spit on his hand and ran it through your lips and across his length, letting out a slight gasp at how good the slick felt on his burning skin. 
Feeling as prepared as he was ever going to be, Riddle began pressing himself inside you slowly, pumping his hips slightly to allow him easier entry.  
Your breathing was heavy as you were using all of your self-restraint to not claw the shit out of Riddle’s back. 
After a few moments of heavy breathing, gentle thrusting and gasped praises, Riddle bottomed out with a loud groan. 
Hazarding a glance at your face, he was amazed by the bottom lip that was plumped from the friction of his kisses, eyes half-lidded in need and his cock completely buried in your body. 
He had to move. Right now.
Riddle knew that he had to start slow and gentle. While he would never admit to reading a smutty romance novel in his life, he certainly had tried to absorb all he could from the ones he did get his hands on. 
Riddle allowed himself to pick up a little bit of speed, electing to move from slow and shallow thrusts to deep and grinding ones instead, both of you groaning when he kept pushing just past the point of comfort. 
Your chest was rising and falling to the beat of his hips meeting your own, and he found himself varying this timing to see if he could make you move in different ways, delighting in how you might spring forward or arch your back depending on where and when he was hitting inside of you.  
“Riddle, faster…” You gasped, knitting one of his hands between your fingers in an intimate hold. Riddle nodded and began doing as you asked, slamming himself in and out of you, pistoning himself so hard that you could feel his balls slap against you with each thrust. 
Your sounds were unlike anything that Riddle had ever heard before, and he wondered if something as heavenly as this could be considered addicting. 
One more thing that he had recalled from a particularly steamy bodice-ripper was that there was a button above the lips that was supposed to feel even better than just his thrusts. 
Taking the hand that you weren’t holding off the back of the couch, Riddle placed two fingers on the top of your lower-lips, drawing messy circles with his fingers.
You held back a giggle (because after all, you were actually impressed) as you guided Riddle’s fingers to your clit and helped him swirl his fingers. The friction created a warm tingle in your toes, and you knew you were close. Based on how Riddle had lost all sense of consistent timing and rhythm, you suspected that he was too. 
“Riddle…” You shakily called out, willing him to look at you again, “p-please cum for me darling.” 
Your voice quivered between thrusts, but if someone could be described as literally having a fire behind their eyes, that was what it was like looking at Riddle.
Gaining to a violent speed, both of your moans and gasps and pleads building into a crescendo, Riddle held your hips one final, bruising time, as he finished and near collapsed over you. 
Not wanting to finish without you, Riddle frantically swirled his fingers over your clit until you released the loudest ‘ah!’ of your life. Riddle felt you clench around his overstimulated dick and almost felt like fainting, but he resisted the urge in order to watch your face as you came down. Both of you panting, sweating, shaking, an absolute mess.
It was the first time he could really say that he was happy having made one.
"...Prefect?" 
"Yeah, Riddle?" 
"Do you want some tea?" 
"What do the rules say about tea at night?" 
"I can't find it in me to care about the rules right now." Riddle said with a smile, snuggling up to your side sleepily. 
"Me either." You replied, pulling Riddle off of your couch for you both to clean up and hopefully get some sleep.
You were far too tired for tea, as cute as it was of him to ask.
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And there you have it! Did you like it? Do you want more of Riddle? Someone else? Let me know!
AMAB counterpart is coming soon and will be linked as soon as its posted.
Violent Delights Part 2 is also mostly written because I am out of control haha.
Love you reader!
Requested tags: @readinganas, @yandere-kou, @daeda21, @buckketboy, @kxhyuns, @aikochan4859, @prince-zukohere, @star-gods, @sarahyumiko2, @rosalie-in-twisted-wonderland, @chopid-lulu, @naniky, @kashasenpai, @the-mermaid-of-the-stars,
2K notes · View notes
seiya-starsniper · 10 months
Note
For the blossoming romance asks: 18? 💜
Cecccciillllllll thank you for this lovely ask, I had so much fun writing it 💖💖
Bit early for Saturday, but this fill does kind of fulfill the prompt "Touch Starved" for Dreamling Week too 👀
blossoming romance writing prompts
--------
hello/goodbye hugs that linger
Hob Gadling, Dream has found, is rather fond of hugging. 
At the end of a long night spent conversing at The New Inn, Hob had wistfully asked Dream “a hundred years, then?” perhaps expecting the same answer Dream had provided him for the last 600 years. But his time imprisoned has changed him, and so Dream instead says, 
“I’ve heard that friends meet more often than merely once a century.”
The smile on Hob’s face grows slowly. It starts with surprise and wonder, a slight quirk of the lips, as if the immortal cannot believe what he has just heard. Then it grows into a blinding thing, full of teeth and unrestrained joy.
“Next week then?” Hob asks. “Perhaps next Saturday at 7pm?”
Dream thinks of his duties, of all the rebuilding he must do for his realm, of the still missing dreams and nightmares, and the vortex that is threatening to destroy the very fabric of the universe.
“I believe I shall be able to make it,” Dream answers, a small smile creeping up his own face.
“Wonderful!” Hob exclaims. “I shall see you here again, then.”
When they stand to depart the pub, Dream finds himself suddenly enveloped in warmth and the smell of old wood smoke and beer. He freezes, uncertain at first of what is happening until realization dawns upon him seconds later. 
Hob is hugging him.
Dream does not know for how long Hob embraces him, but it is over too soon for his liking when the man releases Dream from his hold.
“Sorry, probably should have asked first if you were the hugging type,” Hob says, suddenly shy and refusing to meet Dream’s eyes.
“I…I am not sure that I am,” Dream answers honestly. “It has been some time since someone last held me. At least a century, if not more.”
Hob’s eyebrows raise suddenly, alarm written all over his face.
“There’s a story behind that, isn’t there?” he asks, and Dream can feel the ache in Hob’s voice as he voices the question.
Dream nods. “I am not ready to tell it, yet. Perhaps next week. Or the week after.”
“However long you need,” Hob reassures him. “I’m not going anywhere, my friend.”
On the evening before their next meeting, Dream is exhausted. He has unmade his favorite creation, killed a dream vortex, fought with his favorite arcana, and discovered his sibling had intervened in his realm in a petty attempt at sibling rivalry. All within the span of a week.
It is. A lot.
Dream considers canceling their meeting. Reaching out to Hob in a dream and asking to postpone their appointment until Dream can collect himself and feel less unmoored.
But Saturday comes, and Dream finds himself standing just outside The New Inn, contemplating why he has not yet entered.
“My friend!” he hears from directly behind him.
Dream turns and there Hob is, dressed in an outfit similar but not exactly the same as the one he wore last week. The brown leather jacket is the same, as are the shoes, but his trousers are a different color and he’s wearing some sort of graphic tee shirt instead of a plain white one. 
“Hello Hob,” Dream greets, trying his best to smile, despite his exhaustion.
Hob’s brow furrows. “Are you all right, my friend?” he asks, concerns clear in the tone of his voice.
“I am…fine,” Dream answers though he is anything but.
Hob huffs disbelievingly. “No, I don’t think you are,” he says. “Ah fuck it.”
Hob pulls Dream into his arms and Dream gasps at their sudden closeness. Hob still smells like old wood smoke, and Dream wonders if this is his natural scent, or if it is some sort of cologne he wears, whose purpose is to drive Dream to madness with how much he wants to inhale it. 
Dream’s exhaustion lowers his inhibitions, and before he can think better of it, he finds himself wrapping his arms around Hob’s back and burrowing his face into the other man’s shoulder. He thinks the wood smoke smell is strongest here, in Hob’s jacket, and he wonders what Hob has done to imprint this smell into the material. 
“There, there,” Hob says, rubbing smooth circles into Dream’s back. “I’ve got you, old friend. I have you. I’m here.”
Dream finds himself clinging to Hob, perhaps more than is socially acceptable amongst humans, but the other man doesn’t seem to mind. They stand there, just holding one another, until a bar patron from inside emerges, forcing them to break apart and move away from the entryway to the pub.
“I don’t think the pub is the best place for our meeting tonight,” Hob says, once the other person is out of sight. “My flat is not too far from here, if you don’t mind a walk? I’ve got a bottle of mead old as Queen Elizabeth herself in the fridge. I think you may need it.”
“I believe,” Dream answers, his tongue heavy like molasses in his mouth, “that you may be correct.”
Hob smiles. “And I can hug you all you want in the privacy of my living room.”
“I would like that,” Dream says, and finds that he means it. Already his heart is lighter after Hob’s embrace, and perhaps it will grow lighter still, with each subsequent one, given freely, by his oldest friend.
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zedif-y · 7 months
Text
When Zedaph arrives, Tango and Impulse are bickering. Now- truth be told, this is nothing new. But as he gets closer he notices how they're angled all weird, like they're literally attached at the hip. He blinks, eyebrows raised at the scene in front of him.
Ah.
"So... How did this happen?"
They turn to him, like kids caught in the cookie jar. "Hey, Zed!" Tango chirps. "We're stuck."
He shakes their intertwined- er. Knotted is probably a better word- tails. Impulse looks like he's mentally aged a century.
Zedaph gets closer, assessing the situation. That's- yep. That's bad, alright.
"That doesn't answer my question."
Impulse groans, "Tango happened."
"I didn't notice!"
"Hold on," Zedaph furrows his brow. With careful hands he starts trying to untangle them, gentle as he works, "Did he do the tail thing?"
The tail thing is when Tango wraps his tail around the nearest person when he's distracted- an adorable, honestly endearing habit of his. He doesn't even realize when he does it.
...It's probably less endearing for Impulse right now though.
"Yep," Impulse nods, popping the p. Tango sputters.
"I- shut up!" The tip of his tail glows into embers, making Zedaph jolt. "Whoops, sorry."
"Stop wrigglin'!" Zedaph huffs, pulling back. "You're making this harder than it has to be!"
"I'm staying still!" Impulse protests.
Zedaph scowls, "Not you!" He rolls up his sleeves, hands hovering over the knotted tails. "I- okay, well. Stop moving, Tango, I'm trying to see-"
"Easier said than done!"
"What, does your tail have a mind of its own then? Tail brain, is that what you're saying?" Tango opens his mouth to retort, but shuts up at the look on Zed's face.
Zedaph sighs, "I could just leave you two like this." Tango pouts.
"You wouldn't."
"He really would," Impulse says dryly. "Can't I just kill you to get out of this?"
Zedaph beams, "That'd be way easier-!"
"No, no!" Tango scrambles away- and then nearly tumbles over, leaving Impulse grasping for balance. "Sorry- But you can't just kill me in my face! I've got stuff!"
Impulse raises an eyebrow, "We'll pick them up."
"My bed is far away!"
Zedaph hums, "Feels more like a you-problem to me, if I'm honest."
"This entire thing is a me-problem!"
"How about," Impulse says. "We call an Admin."
Then, he pauses. "Wait."
That's when it clicks.
He gapes at Tango, "Aren't you an Admin-"
Zedaph bursts into laughter. Tango opens his mouth, closes it again. A red blush creeps up his face.
"...Yes?"
Zedaph cackles, keeling over, "We are so stupid!"
"Shut up, I forgot!"
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malarign · 1 year
Text
love you unconditionally
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(ways to win their heart)
contains: bf!hyungline x fem!reader | genre: fluff | tw! crying and honking at elders in Jay’s one (sorry i had to put it here, i have a very soft spot for old people 😔), mentions of food in all of them | wc: 2,4k
reblogs, likes and comments are highly appreciated!!!
author’s note: this is way longer than I intended it to be 🙈 also writing this when we’re in the same country is a new feeling for me 😬
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Lee Heeseung | 이희승
➶ Cooking for him *ೃ༄
Having such fast-paced work life as Heeseung had is not for the weak. And he certainly was not a weak person, but like everybody he had boundaries. At times when they had been crossed he needed to be taken care of with an extra dose of love and tenderness.
Hearing a loud sigh you looked at your boyfriend, who plopped on the couch next to you. His hair was still wet, body still hot from the warmth of shower water. He placed his head on your thigh and you put away your book to look at him.
“Tired?” you simply asked to which he languidly nodded with his eyes closed. Heeseung warned you that this week is going to be a nightmare and he was right. Every day he came back home sapless from hard work. This made you worry and think about what you could do to help him feel better and stay in shape.
“Hungry?” you asked once again, and he answered the same way as before, with a pout visible on his lips.
You rubbed his shoulders and patted them gently signaling him to raise his head. He reluctantly did and threw a frown at you. You smiled and made an offer that he would never say no to. “Let me make you some ramen. Just the way you like.”
Your words made his stomach grumble. He watched you go to the kitchen, and make his absolute favorite dish. After all those years of knowing him, you developed the perfect recipe made of spices combinations and ingredients proportions. Every time you made it Heeseung could swear he would marry you right away.
After all, the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.
➶ Showing interest in his hobbies *ೃ༄
Heeseung being a man of many talents, naturally is interested in many things in various fields. Basketball, football, games, piano, dancing, and many more were one of the things he adored. And the fact that you showed such interest in those things made him feel important to you as if by knowing more about his hobbies you knew more about him. Even if his interests were completely not your cup of tea you left no stone unturned to know as much as you managed to about them. Whether it was basketball or football where you could learn rules to watch matches with him or ask him to teach you to play some piano piece or choreography
“And then at the last minute, he cheated, as always though” Heeseung spoke about his last match with Niki in their new favorite game.
“Didn’t he do that last time, too? But you still won, right?” you asked eyebrow raising in question. He didn’t even have to answer as his cockily raised eyebrow told you everything.
“Of course I did.” His smile was so big you couldn’t help but laugh.
“Can we play it? I want to see why you like it so much” you asked pointing to the controllers. You observed how his eyes grew bigger, sparkles brightening his dark orbs. He knew damn well video games weren’t really your cup of tea, yet you offered to play with him. Heeseung decided to not question you and just nodded reaching to the pair of controllers and handing you one of them.
“I can’t guarantee I won’t cheat too, though.”
Park Jongseong | 박종성
➶ Being polite to others *ೃ༄
Good manners was something Jay’s parents tought him from his childhood days. He knew what was the responsible thing to doin relevant situations, knew how to treat other’s and how to help them when they asked for it. He never hesitated to reach out his hand to a person in need of help.
Because of that upbringing he somehow expected his partner to be as considerate and amiable as he was. That’s probably the reason why he loved you so much. Your kind actions and warm gestures made his heart beat only for you.
But just like every human being you had your bad days when you couldn’t keep it cool. By contrast to your kindness your short-tempered character made you loose control for a second.
Jay was cooking a dinner for both of you knowing you’ll be home at any minute now. he heard how you unlocked the front door but the sound of the door slamming shut took him by surprise. Sensing something was wrong he took careful steps to the hallway where he saw you sitting on the floor, your back facing him. He went around you and the sight made his expression drop. Your face was tear stained and eyes puffy, meaning you had been crying for a while now. He crouched next to you to take your form closer to his and asked softly: “Do you want to tell me what happened?”, but that only made you cry harder. Not wanting your eyes to hurt the next day he helped you calm down, waiting for some kind of response from you.
“I feel like I’m the worst person,” you whispered, another tears forming in your eyes.
“Why would you say that, sweetheart? You’re the kindest person I know.” The absurd of what you had said made him confused.
“Becaused when I honked at this car that was in front of me, that didn’t drive even though we had green light, it turned out that there was an old man behind a wheel,” you spoke syntax and sense of your statement long gone. “And when I overtook him he apologized by raising his hand. Jay that man could be like 90 years old and I treated him like that. I feel horrible,” you cried again finding comfort in his arms.
Jay couldn’t help but smile at your innocence. He held you for as much time as you needed reminding you about all the things you do and convincing you that you’re certainly not a bad person.
➶ Having heart-to-heart conversations *ೃ༄
Working in Seoul was tiring most of the times, draining from both physical and mental energy. Living fast was not for everybody, even people who do know how to cope with the hardships of this lifestyle needed to pour their hearts out once in a while, sharing their worries and nuisances to feel lighter in some way.
Both you and Jay knew about that, so every month you had a long heart-to-heart conversation that made your hearts at ease. You talked about many things, sometimes feelings and everyday matters too overwhelming to talk about them straight away. Instead you just asked each other questions you didn’t have an oppourtunity to ask.
“What do you wish you could spend more time doing?” you asked, breaking the long but comfortable silence that surrounded you. You shifted and layed on him, head now raising and falling down just as his chest did when he took a breath.
“I wish I could cook a little bit more. I mean like not cooking every day meals, but experimenting with other quisines and types of food,” he spoke after thinking for a while.
“Do you know what cuisine?” you asked quriously.
He looked at you and exclaimed with a smile: “Maybe some dish from [your country name]? That would benefit both of us. I would spend more time in the kitchen and you could eat meals from your childhood.”
“Ooh, not gonna lie, that sounds tempting!” You hugged him tighter with excitement.
“What about you, sweetheart?”
“Probably painting. I still have blank canvas but not the energy to even think about what to capture on it,” you said while an idea crept into your mind.
“You could always paint me,” Jay remarked.
“I thought about exact same thing.”
Sim Jaeyun | 심재윤
➶ Cuddling with him *ೃ༄
Jake is probably the clingiest person of them, who all would love and long for any form of physical contact with you. He adored holding your hands in his, occasionally rubbing them with this thumb. He loved the scent of your shampoo and body wash so every time you finished your nighttime routine he ran to you to just smell your freshly washed hair. And on top of that, his favorite thing ever was how your body felt against his whenever you hugged or cuddled. This is probably why he enjoyed it whenever it was you who cuddled him, not him cuddling you.
Jake came back home from his stroll to the grocery store for some snacks. Both of you were supposed to watch the new episode of a show you just started when you realized you ran out of snacks, so he quickly went out to buy something to fill your stomachs up.
“Baby I’m back!” he shouted while taking off his shoes.
“Come here quickly!” He heard your response and jogged to the living room. You were laying on the couch in a reclined position. When you noticed his presence in the room, a smile rose on your lips and you opened your arms inviting the boy into your loving embrace. Jake didn’t waste any second jumping onto you making both of you giggle. He placed his head on your chest and closed his eyes when he felt your fingers tangle in his locks. And if not for your pat on his shoulder he would completely forget about the promised episode and just find solace and comfort in your affection.
➶ Spending time with him when you're busy *ೃ༄
Handling uni work with your part-time job was probably the hardest aspect of your life. Jake knew your hardships and if there was something he could help you with he did it with pleasure. Seeing your struggles truly breaks your heart so he does everything in his power to somehow let you know he’ll always be there for you. With that awareness, he cherished with his whole heart any moment you spared him.
Currently, you were laying down on your bed, bodies cuddled up together. You played with his fingers as he was telling you about your day. Listening to him attentively you started feeling your eyelids closing involuntarily. You fought the tiredness with all your will, but the exhaustion from the past week full of work and assignments drained you of any energy.
Jake noticed how you struggled to keep your eyes open so he cupped your face in his free hand and said: “Babe, you must be really tired. Let me help you get changed and make the bed for you to sleep comfortably.”
You looked up at him and your eyes softened. “But I wanna listen to your day more. I missed you so much and we barely even saw each other this week” you spoke.
“It’s okay, my love, I know you do so as soon as we wake up tomorrow I’ll finish my story. How does that sound?” he asked and left a short kiss on your forehead.
Seeing your nod Jake helped you get ready to sleep and made the bed for the two of you to hop into. He engulfed you in his arms and whispered tender “I love you”s and other sweet nothings into your ear. His touch made you melt in bliss, helping you fall asleep. Once he noticed your sleeping form he took a look at your face, treasuring the memory of time spent with you for a long time.
Park Sunghoon | 박성훈
➶ Writing him notes/love letters *ೃ༄
As a silent lover, who shows his feelings rather through gestures Sunghoon appreciates when you did the same to him. Of course, he loved when you gave him hugs or peppered his face with heart-fluttering kisses, but seeing your love through kind messages on the mirror written with a bar of soap or small sticky notes attached to his lunch box made his whole day better, and nothing could make it worse.
Sunghoon finally went on his long-awaited break from work and closed all the opened programs on his office computer. He took a bag full of food you made for him for lunch and went to the kitchen to eat it comfortably. He took out a small box from the bag to heat the meal when he noticed a pink sticky note with a message written on it. “Have a great day, my love. Don’t overwork yourself and come back home safely ♡“ he read the message silently, not noticing a smile creeping on his face. He put it into his pocket and continued preparing the food.
After he finished eating he took a note into his hand and put it into a drawer of his desk where he stored every single one of them you wrote through the years of your relationship. He kept them knowing that there were days when you simply didn’t have much time to write him a note. Those days he just opened the drawer and drew one note which never failed to make his day.
And it always made him think about you. How is your day? Are you busy? What if you’re overworking yourself? Those questions pierced his mind, so instead of just worrying he texted you, hoping he wouldn’t disturb your work day. But he never did. You always responded as soon as you noticed his messages, which made you feel warm and loved.
➶ Giving him long hugs after a long day
For Sunghoon, a synonym of comfort and delight was simply being in your arms, a place where he felt the safest. He knew you’re the person with whom he can be who he truly is and didn’t need to put the brakes on himself. After stresfull days in work he dreamed of nothing else but to nuzzle his nose in the crook of your neck while you brush his hair with your fingers. 
And that’s exactly what happened. As soon as he came back he searched for you to finally feel at home. You gladly welcomed him wrapping your arms around him, softly scratching his back earning full of satifaction low hums from him in return. 
“Let me massage your shoulders,” you offered suddenly when you felt how rock hard were his tensed muscles. 
“No, I want to stay here,” he said as he made himself more comfortable, making both of you lay down on your shared bed. 
You patted his head brushing his hair from off his face. “Anything for you, love.” You continued touching him gently when you heard soft snores coming from him. You shook him a bit to wake him up. You knew how he hated sleeping without showering first, in clothes he wore whole day. 
Sunghoon opened his eyes lazily and nodded before rubbing them with his hands. He lifted from you and went straight to the bathroom to take a quick shower, while you made your med ready to lay down on it. When he came back you embraced him once again. He laid his head drowsily on your shoulder and sighed. You climbed on your toes to give him short peck on his lips and led him to lay down after day full of work. 
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thank you for reading! back to the masterlist
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chellestrash · 5 months
Text
Pretty and Sweet
Frank Castle x F!Reader
request: Omg I got Drabble in my mind Please write Frank Castle being obsessed with reader wearing Lacey pinky clothes because she looks cute in it and then he says things like“Such a pretty girl” “you look adorable in this I should get you clothes, would you like that sweetheart?”Or him being a soft dom and overstiming the reader in their lingerie“Just one more sweet girl”“your shaking honey” Just like praising her the whole time and being sweet but is being rough 🤭 Frank just gives that vibe he’d be so sweet
warnings: pet names, explicit language, smut, teasing, fingering (f!receiving), sub!reader, dom!frank
word count: 1k
a/n: i haven't done requests in sooooo long I'm not even sure if I know what to do anymore. I know this tool a lot longer than it probably should and I'm aware its not exactly what you asked for anon but i did my best i hope you get to enjoy it. If you end up reading it please let me know what you think!
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“You gonna wear all that and then try to tell me you weren't trying to get my attention, sweetheart. Huh?”
Frank's voice rumbles through the air, filling the dark space of the bedroom the moment his body leans over yours. You smile a soft innocent smile, contrary to the current situation you found yourself in. 
“I just thought they were pretty.”
Dragging your finger over the straps of the pastel pink lingerie, you trace your eyes up and back to his face. The warm feeling at the bottom of your stomach gradually grows stronger as you let Frank's eyes skim over your body. His big hands were on either side of your head, his chest hung in the air over your own, one of his knees now wedged between your legs.
“Yeah?”
The firm frown on his face makes the muscles in your thighs twitch slightly and for a second you wonder if he noticed. He did. His eyebrows raise slightly and an unimpressed expression on his face when he glances down and back up into your eyes the second your body betrays you.
“Really?”
You fight with yourself, trying to play this off as nonchalantly as possible but you know, you know with Frank, with the way he knows his way around you, that's nearly impossible. 
“One question is all it takes to get to you, sweetheart?”
“Frank.”
You begin to explain yourself, the heat on your face prickling slightly when his eyes trace over your body one more time.
“Shh shh shh.”
That goddamn whisper. You swallow hard, feeling his thumb brush over the edge of your lower lip. The pounding in your chest picks up slightly.
“Just wanted me to see you in this, huh?”
You nod, a silent confirmation followed by Frank's quiet, low chuckle. 
“Right so, let's say I believe you, yeah?”
With your eyes fixed on his you listen, your chest rising and falling faster than before when his hand finally caresses your body. 
“Do you like it?”
You whisper, your hand now resting on his bigger one. His fingers brush over your sides, over the soft fabric of the lacy details. Frank scoffs, not at your question, only at the fact that you try to question the way he could feel about this. 
“Really gonna ask me that?”
Tracing over the straps, his eyes drop one more time. Following his gaze, his fingers trace over the many straps and buckles of your pastel pink lingerie set. You watch as he lets out a quiet grunt, followed by a hum when his eyes shut for a moment.
“Such a pretty girl, huh?”
Mumbling the praise he finds your eyes again, a split second before your body involuntarily reacts to his words.
“All that for me?”
Squirming under his body, you nod quickly. The need for his touch rises with every other minute he chooses to devote to letting the situation get the best of you. 
“Frankie, answer me.”
Feeling brave, you use the pet name to get his attention. His focus is now on your face once more, eyebrows raised, impressed with your choice of words.
“Oh, look at that, using your big girl words today?”
Moving his knee to the side, Frank pushes your legs apart slightly more. His hands are still on your side, rubbing over your exposed skin. The touch feels reassuring and so do his words. 
“Just want to know if you like the set. I picked it up in the store I thought it-”
“Sweetheart, the only place this thing would look better is right there on the floor.”
He nods his head to the side and you feel yourself getting warmer again. Rising your hips slightly, you gently grind against his leg once, then pause, waiting for his response. 
“You wanna ruin these? Hmm, you think it's worth it, sweetheart?”
Dragging his fingers down your stomach and then over the fabric, Frank begins to rub slow, gentle circles over your center through the pink fabric. Your lips part with a quiet gasp and your fingers wrap tightly around his free hand. The touch you’ve waited on for so long now, finally where you wanted it the most. Thankful for his decision,you breathe out relieved. Relaxing your body into Frank's palm, you confirm your desire for his attention. 
“That okay? Hmm? Can I touch you here, baby?”
The pressure intensifies slightly, your breath hitches, legs pressing together faster than you can even attempt to stop it.
“Mhm.”
You murmur, not wanting his question to remain hanging in the silence of the room.
“Think we're gonna have to get rid of those, huh, sweetheart?”
The question rings out in your head as you try your best to focus on Frank's words once more. Hooking his fingers over the waistband of the lower part of the pink underwear, he pulls the fabric down, his body moving as he leans closer to you. Rubbing his thumb over your knuckles, he presses a gentle kiss right under your belly button. His warm kisses follow the soft sensation of the fabric brushing over your skin while Frank exposes more and more of you with every kiss. 
Finally touching you without the barrier of the garment, Frank chuckles softly, satisfied but not surprised with how much the whole situation got to you.
“Attagirl, you like that, huh?”
Paired with his touch the question has your eyes rolling to the back of your skull and you dig your nails into his palm. 
“Fr-”
You start, but pause, biting your lip once he slips his finger inside you slowly.
“Shhh shhh shhh, that's it, sweet girl, that's it.”
Turning his head to the side, he plants the kiss on the inside of your thigh, the touch even softer than the kisses from moments ago. After pulling them out, he pushes his fingers inside again, then again and again. The repeated motion picks up pace as he begins to work his thumb over your clit.
“Oh f-mmmm.”
You hum, and he scoffs loudly, breaking the overly sweet character. He can't help but tease you and your hips buck up slightly.
“Shit, sweetheart, really? That much?”
“Frank-”
“You wanna say something? Hmm? Think you’ll have to speak up, baby.”
The pet name contrasts with the teasing character of the statement and your body reacts one more time. 
“Cause if you won't talk sweetheart. I think this will take a long, looong time.”
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