#also i thought of giving him a moustache but when i did he looked like such a butch it was cute but not what i wanted

[oph3liatlou]

— TWO YEARS

pairing(s); laredo!javier pena x bestfriend!female reader

warnings; suggestive content, kissing, smoking, light swearing, pet names in spanish.

word count; 1,372

proofread?; yess.

note from author; THE SPANISH I CAN FINALLY USE!!!

summary; childhood friends reunited after javier's posting in columbia.

The days were long. He’d been working his ass off at his old man’s ranch for the past two days, to get his mind off the DEA and his suspension. He had been exchanging information with Los Pepes, in an attempt to get a lead on Escobar, shame, he got found out.

He ran a hand through his sweat-slicked, chestnut hair, his dark eyes flickering up at the blazing, Laredo sun. He thumbed at the corner of his moustache, before his hand dropped to his side, a marlboro hung from his lips.

“Fuck.”

You rolled your eyes as you wiped the sweat away from your forehead, trying to keep from showing just how hot you really were. You kept staring up at the sun, the sun in Texas could be brutal, especially at this time of the year. You took a drag from your cigarette, letting out a long sigh as you looked at the ground. "Damn, this is hot." You muttered to yourself.

Javi couldn’t help but notice, your pretty pout, pouting as you pulled on your cigarette. He flicked his cigarette away, and wandered over towards you. His broad shoulders and strong, muscular arms made him appear even more formidable than most.

“Yeah it is.” Javi muttered, glancing down at the red dirt, and then back up to you, his dark eyebrows shifting, and his mouth curling into a wry smirk.

You watched him as he walked over to you, a faint smell of sweat and tobacco reaching her nostrils as she took in his appearance. He'd changed since the two of you had last seen each other, your best friend who you'd grown up with had grown into a very attractive man. Even with the scowl of his lips and the seriousness of his expression, you thought him to be very handsome. "Two years", You muttered quietly, "a lot changes in two years."

“Yep.” Javi concurred, softly. His eyes ran over her body, as you stood there, the smoke drifting upwards. “I see you’ve grown up.” He smirked, reaching over and tucking a piece of hair out of your face. His face suddenly, changed, and he looked at you, with a mixture of longing, desire, and something else. He had missed you.

You felt your heart beat a little faster when he smirked at you, when he tucked the piece of hair out of your face and looked at you with an almost hungry gaze, you could feel your insides tingle. You didn't hate him, not in the slightest, but you also didn't know if it was a good idea to give in to your own desires. You were still hurt over the way he'd left two years ago, and you didn't want to get sucked in again only to have him break your heart...like he did when you both were kids.

He wanted to feel you, taste her, but damn, he was on some suspension bullshit, and his past still haunted him. Why now? Was it bad timing, or? Could he afford to let you in once more? He looked away from you, his back to the glaring sun as he inhaled his cigarette.

“Got a lot to tell you, and- to apologize for. It’s been two years- but…” He trailed off, exhaling smoke, before the question escaped him. “Why’re you still here?”

You sighed as you took another drag from your own cigarette, the heat of the sun beating down on you made your skin shine with sweat. You thought about his question, it was a fair question, why were you still here? Two years ago, you would've packed up and went with him in a heartbeat but now things were different, you had changed and grown up without him.

"I could ask you the same thing", You said softly, looking away from him. Your eyes darted to your cigarette, you smoked it down to the butt before finally extinguishing it.

He’d expected a lot of things, but not that. He’d expected to see you, sure. Maybe even to have a shot at redemption, hell you've known each other all your lives, and you was beautiful. You'd grown up alright, it was almost as if he was looking at a completely different woman.

“I…” He began, taking a drag of the cigarette, and sighing softly, before exhaling. “I’m just trying to get away from everything.”

You took in his answer, it was a good answer, and it also made you curious. As his best friend, you thought you knew everything about him, but the truth was, you didn't. You hadn't seen him in two years, and you didn't know the half of what he was going through now. You let your gaze roam over his features as you mulled over her next question.

"From everything?" You asked softly, taking a small step closer to him, a look of curiosity flitting across your face.

“Mhmm.” He nodded, taking in another drag, he looked to you with an unreadable expression. His dark eyes, roaming over your face, but his lips pursed, as if he was debating on whether he should reveal what was bothering him. He wasn’t the type to share his feelings.

“The world’s kinda been shitty for the past couple months- so, figured coming home was better than facing- well, everything.”

Your eyes narrowed as you took in his answer, that was a bit of a non-answer. There was more going through his head, you could see that on his face, but then again, that's the way he always was. He wasn't one to go all emotional, even though he was definitely feeling emotions right now, the way he kept looking at you told you that.

"And there isn't something else that has you on edge?" You asked softly, moving a little bit closer to him.

“What do you mean?” He asked, genuinely not knowing where you was going with this line of questioning. Were you trying to get something out of him? If so, he wasn’t about to give it up willingly. You were the one he’d been avoiding, after all.

“I mean, there’s- well the suspension, which has me pretty riled up, but besides that, there’s nothing..." He paused. "But besides that, there's nothing."

You shrugged. "I mean coming back here…seeing me after-" You inhaled deeply but didn't finish your sentence. He knew what you were talking about. Your breakup before he left.

“Yeah.” He groaned, letting out a sigh as he rubbed his brow. That had been what you'd been alluding to, and damn this was awkward. His eyes met yours, and he looked away quickly.

Javier couldn’t help it. It was stupid. But he had a chance with you, he could see it now, even if he did keep telling himself he didn’t deserve you. He exhaled smoke, his mouth curling into a sardonic smirk.

"I would've come with you," You paused. "To Columbia- if you had asked." But he hadn't, even though you had been together for 3 years.

“Yeah well…” He sighed, looking down, his hands in his pockets, as he shifted his weight from foot to foot. “I was- I am a dumbass. I just thought-“ He huffed, and rolled his eyes. “I don’t even know, honestly. But look, cariño, I’m sorry alright- I was a complete idiot.”

Him speaking Spanish always melted you on the inside. Your legs felt like Jell-O when he stepped closer to you. Dear. You sighed, your voice was softer now. "You still are, Javi." You partially teased.

He smirked, “Yeah? How so?” He asked, his voice as smooth as smooth as velvet.

He took another drag from his cigarette, his eyes trailing over your body, lingering on the curves of your hips- his mouth curling into a small smirk, “Cariño~.”

You smirked. "Well, let's see…" You let your voice trail in suspense. "You still haven't kissed me yet." You crinkled my nose. "I'd say you're slacking."

With that, it was all over. He couldn’t help himself- he reached forward, his hand holding your chin, and he kissed you deeply and passionately, his lips soft and pliant against yours.

It was what you wanted. It was what you needed.

You both needed it.

To reunite.

#writing #request #reqs open #oneshot #headcanon #smut #javier pena fanfiction #javier #javier pena narcos #javier pena x reader #javier peña #javier pena x you #javier pena smut #narcos fanfiction #javi p #narcos smut #Spotify

[the-acid-pear-art]

Okay I get why ppl draw this guy so much now he's a joy to doodle.

#my art #doodles #artists on tumblr #dsaf #dsaf jack #jack kennedy #I'm really happy w how he looks here ngl. #maybe I'd have done more facial scars but y'know. didnt want to just ball. #he came out a little too pretty dare i even say like legit got a lil flustered when adding the scars like huh. #getting humid in this room eh? tugging at the neck of my shirt etc #also i thought of giving him a moustache but when i did he looked like such a butch it was cute but not what i wanted #body could be improved but hey this was literally just a quick doodle #i need to start trying to draw Dave more now tho i draw dave so little so UNFAIR but i need to pull up the old yaoi references 4 that #anyway yeah jack lovers enjoy #a lot of ppl followed me bc my last jack doodle snd it made me feel bad bc i am never a consistent person #like you follow me for dsaf and then you get a single drawing of L.L. every few weeks. but hey. here's something for the lot of you. enjoy👍

[holllandtrash]

you know 6 to 1 yn said something about carlos’s mustache and lando threatened to grow his hair back out of playful jealousy

word count: 4.1k tags/warnings: some angst, jealousy, mentions of smut kind of part of the 6 to 1 series

carlossainz55

liked by ynleclerc, scuderiaferrari and 391,202 others

carlossainz55 off to Canada 🇨🇦 let's keep pushing

view all 1,542 comments

scuderiaferrari now that's a smoooth operator

spicysainzz its illegal for a man to look this good

ynleclerc god don't tell me you're growing out your facial hair now too

carlossainz55 you love it ynleclerc sure

“Oh so you like Carlos’ facial hair?”

“What the hell are you talking about?” You didn't look up from the cutting board, already deciding that whatever Lando was on about wasn’t as important as making dinner.

“You like his facial hair,” Lando repeated, a statement this time. 

It was impossible to not give him any attention when he shoved his phone in your face. You took a breath, asking yourself what you were getting yourself into as you dropped the knife on the counter and tuned in on his screen, more specifically, at the comment you had left on Carlos’ most recent picture. 

“It’s a harmless comment,” you scoffed, knowing that your friendship with Carlos was nothing for him to worry about, yet he always seemed to be triggered by the most mundane things. 

“But you like his facial hair.”

“Are those the only words you know how to say?” 

You pushed the phone out of your face and turned properly to face him, only then seeing that he wasn’t taking this conversation as a joke the same way you were. His jaw had tightened, the lines in his forehead displayed his very prominent annoyance and you flipped a switch to react accordingly, hand going up to cup his cheek

“Lando,” you said, a slight shake of the head. “You’re being dramatic. I commented on my friend's photo. Who is also your friend. It’s nothing to get worked up over, okay?”

Lando and Carlos were still two peas in a pod. Their bond was unbreakable but since you started dating you could tell he was always slightly on edge whenever you and Carlos were alone together. And of course Lando trusted you, you’re the one person who held his heart he knew you wouldn’t do anything to damage it.

It was Carlos he didn’t trust. 

He didn’t like that Carlos had never once talked to Lando about the kiss you had shared. It was this strange, unspoken thing, but when you tried to explain how weird it would be for Carlos to approach him and say ‘hey, I had feelings for your girlfriend and we kissed but don’t worry about’ it didn’t really click for Lando. 

So he just held his breath and watched from a distance whenever you interacted with the Spanish driver and if he felt your conversations lingered a little too long for his liking, he’d find a way to pull you aside and remind you who exactly you were in the paddock for. 

He had no control over what happened on Instagram, though. And it wasn’t like he was going to tell you to unfollow your brother's teammate, so he just ignored any bitter thoughts that came to mind if he saw your name show up in Carlos’ likes. 

But that comment. 

It was friendly, sure, but it was the fact that it was on the topic of facial hair that really stung. Lando knew how much you hated his facial hair when he tried to grow it out and the only reason he ended up shaving was because you made your dislike for it so abundantly clear. 

So why the fuck did you not hate it on Carlos?

Carlos didn’t have as difficult of a time growing out the stubble like Lando did. And his already prominent moustache was just only going to get thicker and you didn’t hate it. It was clear by your comment, despite it being sarcastic, that you didn’t hate it. 

And Lando hated that.

“You’re really bothered by this,” you said aloud when it sunk in that this wasn’t something Lando would get over after a good night's sleep. 

“I am, yes.”

“And what's bothering you, exactly? The fact that I commented on his picture?” You asked, wanting to get to the root of the problem. “Or are you annoyed that I had a different reaction to his facial hair than I did with yours?”

Lando hesitated before finally muttering a quiet, “Both.”

You rolled your eyes and pushed on his chest, wanting not only a bit of space from his childish ways of thinking but also wanting to finish dinner. You picked up the knife and went back to mincing the pepper, not about to coddle Lando or assure him that he had nothing to worry about because this was a conversation you had had way too many times for your liking and if he didn’t know you loved him by now then that was his problem. 

But Lando wasn’t about to move on as easy as you had, “I’m just saying-” 

“I don’t want to hear it,” You cut him off, voice shaper than the knife in your hand. Each cut against the board echoed in the confined space and Lando could tell you were applying more pressure than needed, relying on your actions to show that you really didn’t want to have this conversation.

And Lando stayed quiet for the rest of the night. Not just about the picture, but in general. When you asked him to set the table, he did so without his usual childish complaints. The conversation between you during dinner was cold and distant but you didn’t want to press further, knowing that he’d get over this in his own way.

You thought things were fine when he crawled into bed shortly after you did because he curled his arm around your waist like normal, pulling you against his chest as his soft breath hit your neck. You whispered ‘goodnight to him, but his lack of response wasn’t something you thought too much about. 

It wasn’t until you woke up did the trouble really begin. 

You walked into the bathroom first thing in the morning, rubbing your eyes and the residue of mascara that didn’t come off after washing your face last night. After turning on the sink and letting the water run, you wiped a disposable cloth over your face and tossed it out immediately after. Naturally, the rest of your morning routine would have followed, had a perfectly good electric razor not have caught your eye at the top of the garbage can.

“Lando!” You basically screamed, knowing he was in the inbetween stages of awake and asleep when you had gotten out of bed. You heard the rustling of sheets and the patter of footsteps as you grabbed the razor out of the bin. 

When you turned around, one hand resting on your hip you saw a very tired Lando standing in the hallway. Usually the sight of him bare chested and wearing nothing but boxers was enough to have you contemplating dragging him back to bed, but not this time.

“What is this?” You asked, so obviously talking about the razor Lando had thrown out the night prior. “A peaceful protest?”

Lando looked at you and then at the little contraption and then back at you, a hint of a playful smile on his face. Of course now he thought this was funny.

“Yeah that’s a good way to put it.” 

“Are you fu-” you sucked in a breath to avoid losing your shit on him five minutes after waking up. “Why?”

“Because I’m growing out my facial hair again.”

“Why?” 

“Oh is that the only word you know how to say?” Lando asked, mimicking your question from last night with more sarcasm than you wanted to deal with at nine in the morning.

You rolled your eyes and shoved the razer into his chest before storming past him, dragging your fingers through the roots of your hair while he was forced to call your name, stopping you from slamming the door to the bedroom.

“What?” Lando asked, voice raised. “Why are you so upset about this?”

Your hands tensed, cupping your own face as you exhaled into your palms before your arms fell back to your side, “I’m upset because you clearly are doing this because of that stupid comment on Carlos’ picture.”

“Maybe I just want to grow my facial hair out again,” he shrugged, leaning against the wall as he crossed his arms over his chest. He hadn’t thrown the razor out again, but that didn’t give you any sort of hope that he would hear you out.

“You don’t,” you scoffed. “You told me yourself it wasn’t permanent the first time. You just wanted to try it out. You tried it and it turns out, not for you.”

“Maybe I’ll like it more the second time.”

You fought the urge to roll your eyes at him, instead choosing to turn on your heels and start to walk into your bedroom, muttering a quiet, “Maybe I’ll hate it more the second time”

“Oh but you love Carlos’ facial hair.”

That stopped you in his tracks. Lando finally admitting that it was, in fact, the comment that was getting to him. Carlos and your interaction was the catalyst to all of this and instead of Lando seeing it as an exchange between friends, he was taking it personally.

You turned back around and walked right up to him, nearly chest to chest when he straightened up from the wall. Lando and you didn’t usually fight, both of you knew how important communication and trust was and it was and after the rocky start you had, you never wanted to go back to a place of uncertainty with him.

But this was fucking annoying.

“That’s what you’re mad about, huh?” You asked, holding his stare. “The fucking comment. And you think that growing your facial hair out is, what, a way to get back at me? Because you know I hate it?”

Lando said nothing, a dead giveaway that you were 100% right and he was simply being immature for the sake of being immature. 

“Okay,” you nodded, throwing Lando off when your tone went from deadly to calm before he could blink. “You want to be mad? Fine. I’ll give you something to be mad about.”

Lando watched as you walked back to the room and he hesitantly followed, trying to make sense of whatever that ominous warning was that just came out of your mouth. He didn’t say anything when you walked out of the closet, fully dressed in a pair of sweats and a t-shirt. An Enchante t-shirt even though he thought you were past wearing Danny’s merch. He didn’t say anything when you grabbed a backpack from under the bed and put your wallet and a few other necessities in there because it wasn’t like you were packing. This flat in London was basically your second home and this spat seemed too minor for you to be packing up your things and leaving.

But you were going somewhere.

“Where the hell are you going?” Lando asked when you finished brushing a comb through your hair. You slung the straps of the backpack over your shoulder and then, this was the kicker, you grabbed your passport that was sitting on top of the dresser.

You barely looked at him as you walked past him, your shoulder brushing against his before you headed straight for the door. 

“Back to Monaco. See you in Canada.”

—————

You were true to your word. Cutting off communication with Lando until you landed in Montreal the Thursday before the grand prix weekend started. 

Lando, in return, did not reach out. But he did make it perfectly obvious that he was growing out the facial hair again, making sure to post about it every chance he got. You swore you had never seen him share so many pictures on his photography account and were you a little upset he went to New York without you? Kind of, but you were stubborn and so was he and you had now found yourselves giving each other the cold shoulder over a goddamn comment on Carlos fucking Sainz’s instagram picture.

“What’s up with you and Lando?” Charles asked, an unmistakable pep in his voice that you raised your eyebrows at. He stood next to you on the balcony overlooking the paddock, arms rested over the railing and mirroring your position, but he cleared his throat and reworded his question. “It’s just, something’s up, no?”

You shouldn’t have been surprised he figured out there was tension. If Lando’s fans could put two and two together when you neglected to comment or even like any of his pictures, your own brother could figure it out too.

“He’s an idiot,” you rolled your eyes.

“Well I could have told you that,” Charles snorted. “What really happened?”

“I commented on Carlos’ picture a few weeks ago and Lando took it as me liking Carlos’ facial hair even though I made it perfectly clear I hated it when he was trying to grow out his hair.”

Charles took a second to repeat your words in his head, “He’s upset because you commented on Carlos’ moustache?”

You nodded, “And now he’s growing his facial hair out again out of spite.”

“This is about so much more than facial hair isn’t it?”

You clasped your hands together. You felt Charles’ eyes practically burning holes into the side of your head but you focused on the people wandering around the paddock. 

“He’s just dramatic and immature,” you muttered, deciding that was an easier answer than to have a whole therapy session with him. “He’ll learn his lesson, though. I have an idea.”

“Why do I have a feeling you are also about to be dramatic and immature?”

You laughed in response, right as you spotted the exact person you needed to help you with this idea. You patted Charles on the arm and told him you’d see him later before you all but sprinted down the stairs of the motorhome to chase after the other Ferrari driver.

“Carlos!” You called out, running after him before he could get too far. He turned around when he heard his name, a smile on his face when he recognized the voice belonging to you. 

You had to admit, the grown out facial hair did suit him. Carlos was always handsome but this made him look more mature, more distinguished. 

“I need you to do me a favour,” you said, a playful smile painted on your lips.

Carlos nodded, “This sounds like deja vu.”

“It has to do with getting back at Lando.”

“Now it really sounds like deja vu,” His eyes widened momentarily as he thought back to what happened in the club when you last asked for his help. He was still traumatised from that DJ set. But Carlos loved you, platonically of course, he would always help you. “What do you need, hermosa?”

A few photographers started to crowd you and usually at this point, any driver would continue walking to get away from the unscheduled media harassment. But this was what you needed.

You raised your hand up to his jaw, thumb tracing over the hair he was growing out as a shimmer of adoration glossed over your eyes. Your lips curled upwards and Carlos, even though he was certainly confused, played along, loving any excuse to mess with Lando.

“Just tell me to kiss you and I will,” Carlos joked quietly, face only inches from yours, and you pushed on his chest in response. He caught you a little off guard when he reached for your hand and pulled you back before you could force some space between you. 

You glanced at his lips as Carlos held your hand between your bodies. You reached up with your other hand to cup his chin lightly, thumb dangerously close to his lips. To anyone walking by, it most likely looked like you were about to kiss him.

But you got all that you needed.

“Thank you,” you whispered, shooting him a wink before you pulled yourself from his grasp and walked back to the Ferrari motorhome, knowing that the media was about to have a field day with those photos. 

You didn’t see Lando at all in the paddock. Whether that was intentional on his behalf or not, you had no idea. You did, however, see your name blowing up on twitter along with all of the comments about how you and Carlos looked too damn friendly to be just friends. 

Lando’s text came about an hour after your name started trending. 

Charles told you that you potentially took it a step too far, having a few choice words himself to say about you and Carlos, all of which you tuned out and told him you knew what you were doing. 

But you weren’t entirely sure who had the upper hand when you got your key from the receptionist and made your way up to Lando’s suite at the end of the night. You purposely took your time getting there, deciding to go out for dinner with a friend first before finding yourself at his hotel.

And now you were holding your breath as the card reader turned green and unlocked. You pushed the door open, not having anticipated seeing Lando sitting on the couch and leaning forward as he scrolled through his laptop that was perched on the coffee table. He heard you walk in, heard you put your bag on the counter, heard you slide your shoes off and clear your throat, but he didn’t look up once.

Lando simply turned the laptop around on the table so the screen was facing you instead. On the screen was a tweet, or maybe it was a photo from Instagram, you were standing too far away to tell the source but you could make out the image of you and Carlos.

More specifically, the image of you holding your hand against Carlos’ cheek and giving him the smile that was usually reserved for Lando. One he hadn’t seen in almost two weeks.

He clicked on the trackpad and the next one appeared. Much more intimate than the last as this was the photo that gave Lando a heart attack. He didn’t expect to open his phone after the media pen interview and see pictures of his girlfriend about to kiss his best friend.

You didn’t regret what you did, that little act. You didn’t actually do anything except plant an idea in Lando’s head.

“What do you want me to say?” You asked, gesturing to the laptop. You took a few, horribly slow, steps forward. You were nervous about how this conversation would go, but you knew how to mask your emotions enough and as Lando stood up, eyeing you over, you didn’t buckle under the weight of his gaze.

He scratched his chin, his overgrown stubble, clicking his tongue against the back of his teeth.

You expected him to snap. To say something about the facial hair, about the photos, about Carlos. You hadn’t seen each other in weeks and you assumed that the first conversation you had would be a fight, because, let’s face it, you were both dramatic and immature.

But you didn’t expect his shoulders to drop and for his stare to go from cold to distant as he opened his mouth and asked a question that broke you the way nothing else in your life ever could.

“Do you love me?”

It caught you by surprise, “Do I-” You took a few steps forward, the wall you had up had now fallen and all you wanted to do was reach for him. “Why are you even asking that? Of course I love you. You know I love you.”

“So then why?” He asked, referring to the photos.

You exhaled a breath before responding, “Because you were making a big deal out of that stupid comment, Lando.”

He stepped forward too, closing the gap between you inch by inch, “I made the appropriate amount of deal over seeing my girlfriend flirt with someone on social media.”

He hadn’t raised his voice, not yet. It seemed that you both wanted to avoid that. You weren’t ones to yell at each other, you argued, yes, but your voices never echoed off the walls. 

And you didn’t want to yell, not when you knew what this was really about.

Your lips parted, but you barely got a thought out, “Lando-”

“He still has feelings for you.” He stated, as if Carlos had told him that himself. “He still likes you and I know- I know you guys are friends, I can’t tell you not to be friends but I don’t like the way he looks at you. I don’t like that you are blissfully unaware that he’s into you, that he’s-”

“No, you know what I don’t like?” You cut him off sharply. “I don’t like that this is clearly something that’s bothering you and instead of talking about it to me from the beginning, you let it simmer and focus on things like comments and facial hair and being childish, Lando.” 

When you stepped forward, Lando thought you were about to lose it on him. Instead, you lifted your hands to cup beneath his jaw, your thumbs gently tracing small circles on his cheek and Lando could finally breathe because this was the first time in days he was feeling your touch and even though things were strange between you, your hands holding his face in font of yours felt right.

“You need to talk to me about these things,” you told him. “If something’s eating at you like this. How was I supposed to know this was so much bigger than a stupid fucking moustache?”

Lando laughed at your question, because it really was insane when he thought about it. He should have told you about his distrust with Carlos instead of letting his frustration boil up.

“Lando, I love you,” you whispered with a soft chuckle. “I love everything about you, everything that matters. Your heart, your soul, the way you treat people, your sense of humour, the way I can trust you with absolutely everything, how you managed to win over my entire family and for fucks sakes, yes, I absolutely hate your facial hair but have you ever stopped and thought about why?” 

Of course he hadn’t. Lando acted first and thought later.

He hesitated before asking, “Why?”

The corners of your mouth turned upwards, your eyes darting down to his lips as you pulled him closer, his hands finding your waist. 

You lips hovered over his, teasing him with a ghost of a kiss, something just within his reach but when he tried to connect your lips you kept pulling back, leaving him hanging.

“Because it itches.”

Lando pulled his head back, still in your grasp but no longer trying to kiss you as confusion flashed over his features instead.

“Itches?”

“Itches,” you repeated with a slow nod. “I don’t like your facial hair-” you ran your thumb over his chin and the stubble he had grown out. “-because when you go down on me, it. Itches.”

Lando opened his mouth, only to close it promptly while your words sunk in. Of course that had never crossed his mind, that the feeling of his facial hair rubbing against the inside of your thighs, near your folds, would cause displeasure. 

“And I’m sorry about the incident with Carlos,” you continued on, knowing you had to address it. “I’m not making excuses but if you are acting childish, I- in return -will also act childish. If I had known it was about more than facial hair, I wouldn’t have caused such a scene but god, Lando, I don’t give a shit about Carlos growing out a beard or a moustache because it’s not his lips on me. It’s not him eating me out.”

Lando cleared his throat, not surprised that you were so blunt with your choice of words. You always were. He was surprised, though, when you stepped away from him and turned around, leaving him a little speechless as you walked towards the bedroom.

Before stepping through the door frame, you glanced over your shoulder and raised your eyebrows at him, “Are you just going to stand there?”

That got him moving. He reached for the hem of his shirt and pulled it off as he followed your footsteps, discarding the top behind him. When his arms slid around your waist, pulling your back into his chest, you melted into his hold.

You craned your neck, giving him more than enough access to press his lips to your skin. Your hands covered his as the quietest moan followed a strained exhale. He trailed his lips upwards, but refrained from going further, lifting his head up after just a few seconds.

You turned and looked at him, spotting that stupid grin on his face. 

He nudged you towards the bed, “Get comfy, my love, I need to take care of something first.”

You didn’t need to question what he had to take care of. He planted a kiss on your cheek and retreated towards the bathroom. Doing what he said, you climbed atop the bed and you as well, had a stupid grin on your face when you overheard the dull sound of an electric razor trailing in from the hallway.

And god was it music to your ears.

#lando norris x y/n #lando norris x you #lando norris x reader #lando norris fic #ln4 #holllandtrash #6 to 1 series

[lichenes]

vincent renzi nsfw alphabet? :3

Thank you for the ask anon ;D

I figured this would be the best way to start writing nsfw soooo :3c

Giggling. kicking my feet literally. If you want me to elaborate on any particular letter feel free to lmk :]

I tried to make it as gn as possible :p

Vincent Renzi x gn!reader

CW: Less descript-y than my usual works, different format basically, kinda drifted from the nsfw-ness of it in a few of the subpoints lol, NSFW

wc: (excluding the template) 1,2k

_____✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ … ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ … ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ … ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿____

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

I feel like he would kiss you through your orgasm and after you've both come off your high he would get up lazily still basking in the afterglow... He would look so good doing it too, his tired eyes observing your still heaving chest. He would ask you if you need anything and provide it for you. A caring partner thats for sure.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also yours)

In this context- he likes his own fingers. You clearly like his hands and he confronted you about it jokingly a few times to tease you. The first time he uses them on you, oh mon dieu... His favourite part of you are your eyes. To look into them while you cum is like heaven to him. While he eats you out he likes to keep eye contact if possible...

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

I wouldn't say he's obsessed with you swallowing his cum. He is a tad bit opposed, being familiar with the risks it carries with it. He wouldn't be completely against it so if you feel like it, go for it.

D = Dirty secret (a dirty secret of theirs)

He's a massive yearner. He'd never tell you that but he made a social media account solely to stalk you on it and not for work like he assured you. He would gaze lovingly at your pictures if you post any or just stare at the blank profile picture icon imagining what you were doing at the time.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Mostly, he was pretty vanilla for most his life so if you want to try anything kinkier you should research it together to give him the security of knowing. When it comes to the basic things, fingering, eating out, different positions, he passes with flying colours.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Whatever you're comfortable with and whichever ones he can see your face in. He's obsessed with your face contorting into expressions of pleasure or pain if youre into it.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

He stays pretty serious for most of the time, teasing you if he feels bold that day. When he feels like you're in a bad mood he tries his best to cheer you up in... many ways. He doesn't crack jokes at random times while you have sex though.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He's a clean man that's all I can say. His carpet does indeed match the drapes. And most importantly he cares for your comfort which makes him trim himself quite often. When it comes to his facial hair he sometimes forgets to shave and his moustache comes in. He noticed that that's when you make love most passionately so he sometimes 'accidentally' forgets to shave, when he's feeling particularly needy.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Oh big romantic type, the first time you had sex he did the whole, rose petals on the floor, candles lit and all. Every time you have sex it's a special occasion and he feels obligated to make it seem so every time. During the moment he's very tender with you, kissing you and whispering sweet nothings into your ears...

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Remember that social media account I was talking about earlier? The first time the thought crossed his mind to masturbate to your pictures he got so flustered he had to go to the bathroom and splash cold water on his face to get rid of the thought. After he has aquired your photos though he does it with only a twinge of embarrassment.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

He's big into undressing you if you, the act of stripping your clothes from your perfect body, lord, he couldn't imagine anything as arousing. He is a vanilla man up untill it comes to you riding him. When he's in that state you could convince him to do anything.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Your bed, your patio on the outdoor sofa. You tried to convince him to go at it in his office at the law firm he works at but he got too flustered just at the thought and thought that he'd die of a heart attack if you were to actualise your fantasy.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

As previously mentioned, undressing you. It's not like he's a complete maniac, taking your shirt off in front of him won't make him faint but he still will get a little flustered. Begging. That's it. He also loves seeing you relaxed. Whenever you're lounging on the sofa he gets the urge to make you just a bit more tense...

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

I feel like he wouldn't degrade you unless you begged for it. He is also against impact play, but he's a covenantal man. Talk to him about it and you shall see.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Giving or recieving is fine. He's a master at eating pussy and if you aren't comfortable with oral he won't force you to do it. He will happily welcome it thought, giving you tips as you go.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Highly depends on his mood. If he's feeling particularly foul he won't have any qualms to pound you into the matress. If he's upset he'll go slow and sensual to relay to you how much you mean to him.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

He prefers longer sessions to quickies. Fervency isn't what fuels him most so he prefers to go slow.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

He likes experimenting, with certain limits of course. He prefers not to take risks, a calm and calculated man he is. When he warms up to you though, you could convince him to do it outside your bedroom (ex. the sofa on the patio).

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

When angry or self concious he can go for many rounds, his stamina knows no bounds when he's mad. Normally, he prefers 1-2 rounds a happy medium.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on you or themselves?)

He doesn't own any toys as he's too embarrassed to buy them, online or at brick-and-mortar. If you use any, he likes using them on you during your raptures to rile you up even more.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Oh this man adores teasing. Especially when he can see that you're too self-assured that day, he likes breaking down your barriers of faux confidence and making you melt in his grasp.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Aside from occasional grunts and moans he isn't very vocal. He loves listening to your sounds though. This man is generally lovestruck by you. With little sounds comes how quiet he is. Maybe that little office endeavour could happen then?

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

I think he would go feral if you were to wear lingere for your first time with him. He is definitely a flatterer but he would be talking and thinking about you on the bed just in those perfectly enveloping you bra and panties... MON DIEU.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

He is on the lean side with his medium height statue perfectly complimenting his overall shape... What? Oh yeah his dick. That's what this subpoint is about. He's hung, not uncomfortably so that you couldn't take him all at once but enough to not be able to put it in without some prep first.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Once again he will do it as often as you like, it all depends on you. Although once he's desperate he won't hold back on you and go at it for hours...

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

After clean up, he falls asleep in your arms pretty quickly spent from all the lovemaking. Sometimes he stays still just to face your sleeping form and watch your peacefull demeanor, safe from all the evils of the world when in his embrace.

_____✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ … ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ … ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ … ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿____

masterlist

#vincent renzi x reader #vincent renzi #swann arlaud #anatomy of a fall #writing #ask #send asks #:D #headcanons #vincent renzi headcanons

[thegainingdesk]

On Again, Off Again

As soon as I saw Mark I was head over heels. He was tall and naturally broad, a frame improved with well-honed muscles from years of manual labour. A mop of thick dark hair framed a broad, almost blocky face with dark brown eyes and a thick moustache, and mirrored tufts of hair poking out from the top of his shirt and at his cuffs. His voice was deep, but soft, with a slight Bristol accent.

He’d suggested we go to a local museum for our first date - I’d mentioned that I did art history at uni when we were talking on tinder, and there was an exhibition on the early impressionists. I spent a while pointing out some of my favourite paintings, explaining some of the techniques, the use of light, how the movement was different to what had come before but quickly noticed how quiet he was being and my initial attraction started to wane.

“Sorry,” he said after I asked him for the umpteenth time if everything was okay. “I don’t mean to- it’s just, I mean…”

I looked at him, expectantly. Despite myself, despite how flat the date was falling, I found myself crushing on him all over again, looking up into those big puppy dog eyes.

“I wanted to impress you a bit,” he said finally, running his hand across his moustache nervously.

I laughed reflexively, and felt awful as I saw him wince. “What do you mean, impress me? You don’t need to impress me.”

“I know, it’s not… You just said that you were into art and stuff, and that you work with this charity and-” He stopped and sighed. “I’m just this knob-head builder, you know? I didn’t think someone like you would really want to go out with someone like me, and I thought you were cute and the lads at the site said I should do something a bit fancy and… I’ve fucked this up, haven’t I?”

I shook my head. “You’re great. Really. I chose to go out with you, didn’t I?” He shrugged those gorgeous hulking shoulders, somehow looking like a scolded schoolboy, despite his size. “Go on, where would you usually take me on a first date, if you weren’t trying to go all fancy on me?”

“No, no, really,” he insisted, unconvincingly. “I’m enjoying myself here.” He pointed at the nearest painting, a Turner painting of a choppy sea, a bright red buoy at the centre. “Go on, tell me about that one.”

I took his hand, and felt my heart flutter as a smile spread across his face. “Seriously, I agreed to go on a date with you because you were a good laugh while we were texting.” A blush spread across his stubbled cheeks. Fuck, he was hot. “Where we going?” I pulled him towards the exit.

“A pub or something, I dunno,” he mumbled. “We can stay, really.”

“Not a chance,” I retorted. “It's your round - you can’t wriggle out of it that easy.”

A couple of drinks in, the date was thoroughly back on track. Mark was funny, charming and charismatic - I’d go so far as to say he was gregarious, but trying to keep up with the way Mark drank turned that into a few too many syllables for me at the time. A few more drinks and we couldn’t keep our hands off each other - looking back, I cringe at the scene we must have made in that pub. Charitably, you could say we were somewhat hidden away in a corner; realistically, it was a Saturday evening in the city center and people were probably gawping.

“I told myself I wouldn’t fuck you tonight,” he grumbled into my ear, while his big square hand pawed at my achingly hard dick. “That I’d wait a couple of dates.”

I was practically gnawing at him at this point, my mouth deep into the soft crevice between his thick, strong neck and his strong, yard-wide shoulders. “This is basically our second date,” I told his neck. “The museum was number one, the pub is number two.”

I heard him laugh into my hair. “I’m serious, I’m trying to break some bad habits. Trying not to have so much casual sex.”

I moaned. “I’ll give you permission to make an exception.”

“I don’t want this to just be sex,” he whispered. “I really like you.”

“It doesn’t have to just be sex,” I whimpered back. “But it could also be sex.”

I heard him - felt him - practically growl. “I suppose if you came back to mine, we wouldn’t necessarily have to have sex.”

I nodded, and lifted my head to look him in the eyes. “Absolutely, no sex.”

The sex was phenomenal. It was like something out of an 80s romance novel. It was animalistic but sensual, passionate but slow. I think I actually swooned. Mark could throw me about like a ragdoll, and he made good use of that ability. His body was covered almost top to toe in dark, wiry hair, and his cock was so thick I could barely get my mouth around it - but by god I gave it a go.

We spent all of the next day together, nursing twin hangovers and cuddling up on his sofa. Mark explained his philosophy that the only worthwhile hangover cure is as much food as you can manage to keep down. While I nibbled on bread and butter and sipped on water all day, there was barely a moment where he didn’t have some food on the go - bacon and egg sandwiches for breakfast, clearing his fridge for lunch, a string on deliveroo drivers.

By the time I felt well-enough to go home, he tried to convince me to call in sick to work the next day. Tangled up with him like that, I almost did. Even so, I managed to drag myself away, with the promise of seeing him on Friday.

We didn’t make it to Friday. We met up for dinner on Tuesday. Lunch on Wendesday. On Thursday I packed a bag and decided I could just go into the office from his flat in the morning. We were inseparable. Insufferable, most likely. But we couldn’t stop ourselves, didn’t want to stop.

The dinners out, the takeaways, the long days spent cuddled up without a thought of the gym started to add up - on Mark at least. And yes, maybe I encouraged that a little, but I’m allowed a type aren’t I? Okay, maybe more than a type - a predilection, if you were being fancy, a full-blown fetish if you were being honest. So I like them big! Is that a crime? I never went overboard - never stirred butter and double cream into all of his portions, never tricked him into gainer shakes, never slipped him appetite enhancers or miraculous weight-gain pills - I’m not the protagonist of a gainer story, after all.

All I did was nurture that healthy appetite of his. Gave him my unfinished portions, asked him if he wanted seconds, encouraged him to get dessert, muttered into his ear that no, he can’t go to the gym and leave me in bed, cold and alone, that I’d give him all the work-out he needed. He never complained, and I never made any real secret that I didn’t mind him putting on some weight.

It was subtle at first. He’d never had any abs to cover up, but there was a general loss of definition - muscular limbs got smoothed out, pecs started to go puffy, his belly started to permanently bow out into a little arc. His body, already big, sailed past 220 pounds easily enough, and you could barely tell that he’d put on any weight at all, not really, until he’d hit 240 or so.

But then, my god. It’s like some magical fat threshold was reached, almost overnight, like all the gaps in his body had been filled with fat, his whole body lightly covered with a thin sheen of chub, ready for the real work to build up over it. Smooth limbs got soft, puffy pecs drooped, his little distended belly curved out in all directions to form a proper little pot belly. Not six months into our relationship, he was sitting fat and happy at 260 pounds, a firm ball gut at his center, and all traces of that muscular hunk that tried to impress me at a museum were buried under soft, gorgeous flab. If he ever got self-conscious, he never said anything. Still, I told him how gorgeous he was, how sexy the extra weight made him, how he looked more manly, more mature.

We settled into a routine; huge dinners, hot sex, movie nights spent cradling his growing gut, an occasional date night at some new restaurant before moving onto a pub or a bar. We spent so much time at each other’s flats we both assumed we’d move in together sooner rather than later, that this would all last forever.

“Australia?” I asked, my voice shaking.

“I know, I know,” he said, pacing and stroking his moustache nervously. “But the money’s so good, I can’t really pass it up.” I closed my eyes. Gripped the table. Tried to wish it away. “It wouldn’t be forever,” he said, lamely.

“It would be for a year though,” I whispered, opening my eyes.

He slumped down into the chair opposite me. One hand continued to stroke his moustache, the other sat on the shelf of his belly, stroking it ever so slightly. Even while I was distraught he could still drive me wild without even trying. “I’m sorry,” he said simply after a while. I knew there wasn’t any point arguing. That I wouldn’t want to stop him taking the opportunity. It just hurt.

We agreed we’d not wait for each other. We’d stay in touch, but we’d be free to date, and if either of us met someone over the year, or if we’d changed as people, no obligation to go back to how we were.

I spent a full week moping. I became a walking cliche - I barely ate, I barely slept. I sustained myself on a diet of Carole King songs and Richard Curtis films. Mark never had any social media - barely used his phone for anything really - a fact which I was, in turns, thankful for and furious about. On one hand, at least I couldn’t obsessively stalk his profiles all year while I missed him, on the other hand, I couldn’t even stalk his profiles all year while I missed him.

I still can’t decide if that year went fast or slow. There were points when it felt like I was going through the same old bored routines for decades, and days when I’d realise how soon I could see Mark again and it would feel like seconds. I did my best to get on with my life - I met with friends, picked up hobbies I’d let fall to the side while I spent every day with Mark, even plucked up the courage to go on a date. It was nice. He was nice. But it wasn’t Mark. I’m not even sure I could tell you his name. After that, I resigned myself to waiting.

I’m back! The text said. My heart fluttered. Want to meet up for a drink?

I tried to not reply immediately. Wanted to come across as cool and unbothered.

Amazing!!! I replied, not two minutes later. Yes! Where?

As a cucumber.

The Goose? Or maybe your flat? Up to you.

My heart pounded. Meeting at my flat was not the act of an uninterested man. Meeting at my flat was not the act of a man who’d fallen in love with some gorgeous Australian surfer.

My flat’s fine! I responded.

Great. I’ll be like an hour?

My flat was already impeccably clean - I was a bit of a clean freak as it was, but I had it practically sparkling in anticipation of Mark’s return to the northern hemisphere - but still, I busied myself cleaning every nook and cranny. I hoovered my spotless carpet, smoothed my immaculately smooth bed, dusted corners that I previously didn’t know existed.

I had just decided that the flat was too unnaturally clean, like I’d gone out of my way to clean it for Mark or something, and was in the middle of pulling various items just slightly out of position, when my doorbell rang. I yelped, and hurriedly crumpled a throw blanket, before breathing slowly and making my way to the door. It was just Mark, I told myself. Everything would be just the same as it was before. It’s just Mark. It’s just Mark.

I opened the door to a man I barely recognised. Mark was buff. Beyond buff. The fat I’d so deviously piled on him over all those months had disappeared without a trace. He’d not simply returned to the naturally broad, built figure he’d had when I’d first met him, either - he’d added hard, shredded muscle - at a guess I’d say 20 pounds easy. His face was thinner, sharper; his arms were vascular, and I could swear I saw the stitches on his sleeves almost pulling themselves apart; when he raised his arms and his t-shirt rode up, I could make out a defined six-pack even through his dense pelt of body hair. Worst of all though - he’d shaved off his moustache.

I just stood blinking for a while, until I realised that tears were welling up in my eyes. Despite it all, despite the time, despite the body, despite the fucking moustache - it was Mark. It was really, actually, fucking Mark.

Neither of us said anything, he just stepped through my door, held my face in his hands and kissed me, deeply and desperately and hungrily. We stumbled backwards through my flat, knocking perfectly placed objects as we went, pulling at each other’s clothes, never once stopping kissing, until he picked me up and tossed me onto my bed. This time, I definitely swooned.

We didn’t properly talk until the next morning, while I lay with my head on his chest, my fingers lazily pulling through the curls of his chest hair. “Go on then,” I said. “What’s all this?”

Mark yawned. “What’s what?” he asked.

I lightly slapped his six-pack. “Who invited He-Man over here?”

He laughed. “I bet you had a thing for He-Man didn’t you?” he said, running a hand down my back and squeezing my bum, avoiding the question.

“No really,” I insisted. “What happened to my sexy teddy bear I sent off?” I steeled myself. “I bet it was for all those sexy ozzy men, eh?” I forced myself to laugh.

Mark was silent, and didn’t move.

I held my breath. “It’s fine, you know. We said. Date whoever.”

He shook his head. “No,” he said simply, after a while. “I umm… couldn’t bring myself to. That’s why I spent so much time in the gym actually. To take my mind off of…” He trailed off. “Did you? You know…”

“One guy,” I said. “Just a date, you know, nothing…" I added quickly, keen to reassure him. "It was awful.” I sighed. “No, it was probably fine, it just wasn’t…” I looked over at him, took in his chiseled jawline and perfect cheekbones. “It wasn’t you.” We stayed like that for a while, just smiling at each other. I shuffled up his body to kiss him, and rolled over. “I might have to change my stance on that if you don’t grow your moustache back though.”

We were back to our old routine almost immediately, illicit feedings and all. By the time Mark had regrown his moustache, his abs had been hidden by soft fat and he was on his way back to the Mark I knew and loved. It’s like his body missed the fat - it piled on faster than it had the first time, and within a few months he’d put on all his lost weight, plus extra. His newfound muscles clearly faded a little, being neglected so thoroughly by time spent away from the gym, but they provided a firm base for all the fat to cling to, so that all his fat was perkier and bouncier than last time - I was in heaven.

“I need to lose some weight,” Mark murmured around one of his breakfast donuts one morning. I looked over to see him trying to tug a pair of scruffy work jeans closed, but there were several inches of soft fat between the button and its hole. I inhaled and set my shoulders - it was time to bite the bullet.

“I don’t think you need to lose weight,” I started, nonchalantly.

Mark laughed and shook his gut. I fought to stop myself from getting hard. “Look at me - I’m 20 stone and can’t fit into 40 inch trousers. 40 inches! I need to lose weight,” he repeated.

I stood up and walked over to him, putting a hand on each side of his middle. “I like it,” I told him matter of factly, before kissing him.

He smiled and returned my kiss. “You’re sweet, and I know that you’ll love me no matter what size I am, yada-yada-yada, but come on,” he slapped his belly again. “This is getting ridiculous.”

I shook my head. “No,” I said. “I like it. I…” I inhaled deeply. “I prefer it. Actively prefer you fat, actually.”

He stared at me and blinked, not speaking for almost a whole minute. “You… like me fat?” he asked, finally.

I nodded. "Mm-hmm," I said, as casually as I could pretend to be.

He squinted his eyes at me. “Fatter?” he continued.

“I… wouldn’t complain,” I said slowly, studying his face.

He took a few steps away from me and looked down at himself, as if seeing his body for the first time. He hefted his gut a couple of times, almost experimentally. His hands drifted upwards, squeezed his soft pecs. I just watched, knowing he needed some space. Finally, he raised his head to look at me. “Why?” he asked simply.

I shrugged. “Why is anyone attracted to anything, you know? Big guys have always just done it for me, I guess,” I explained. He carried on looking at me inquisitively, clearly expecting me to continue. “I mean… it just seems more manly, you know? Like you’re tall and you’re hairy and you’ve got this great moustache and hot face, and being bigger is just one more thing that just makes you even more masculine, you know?” He nodded and I saw him subtly flex, as if in admiration of himself. “So you’re okay?” I asked.

He nodded. “I mean, if it means I don’t have to diet or go to the gym, why not?” he laughed, and carried on getting ready for work. “You might need to pop out today to buy me some new clothes though,” he added.

I nodded and smiled, happy that inevitable, awkward conversation went as well as could I could realistically hope. I started to get set up for my day working from home, and brought Mark a donut as he was about to leave, kissing him on the cheek as I passed it over.

His eyes narrowed, and he looked carefully at the donut. “Did you do this Ben?” he asked, after a moment or two.

“What?” I asked. “Yes Mark, I brought you the donut. Are you okay?”

He shook his head. “No. Not the donut. Me. Did you make me fat?”

I swallowed. Hard. “What? Mark. How could I make you fat? I can’t eat for you,” I pointed out.

“No,” he agreed. “But I put on weight almost as soon as I met you. You’ve always given me half of your dinner, told me to get dessert, stopped me going to the gym.”

“Mark, you can’t seriously be accusing me of manipulating you into gaining weight,” I told him, feeling myself shake a little. "You have a big appetite." Was I trying to convince him, or myself?

“But did you?” he pressed.

I paused just a little too long and he sighed, burying his face in his hands. “It’s not like I forced you to eat anything!” I protested. “You enjoyed the food, you wanted it, you never cared about putting on weight, never enjoyed the gym. I just tried to give you permission to let yourself go a bit.”

“But you didn’t Ben!” he snapped. “You didn’t give me permission because never had a choice!”

“Mark, come on,” I reached towards him, but he knocked my hands away. “I’m sorry for being sneaky, but that’s all it was - a bit sneaky. I never lied, I never convinced you to do anything you didn’t want to, I just made the choice a bit easier.”

He opened the door. “I’m going to stay at my parents for a bit,” he said.

“Mark, no,” I pleaded.

“I just… I just need some time to think.” He moved through the door.

“Please Mark, I love you.”

He sighed. “I love you too,” he said. “It’s just a lot.”

The door closed. The day was a write-off. I spent the whole day cleaning and tidying, scrubbing floors and counters and remaking my bed. I thankfully didn’t have any meetings, and the only work I needed to do was busy-body work that no-one would notice was getting done badly. I fell back into old routines - didn’t eat, couldn’t sleep, Carole King, Richard Curtis.

Staying at his parents “for a bit” meant a couple of weeks, as it turned out. I was mid-Notting Hill when I heard the door open and I turned to see Mark walk in, an old band t-shirt riding up to reveal the bottom of his gut. I rushed over to him, but stopped before I reached him, unsure of what was about to happen. He closed the distance and pulled me into a hug. I melted into him, and we stayed like that for a few minutes, just holding each other.

“I’m sorry,” I said eventually.

“No,” he said, shaking his head. “I overreacted. I… freaked out.” He scratched his gut. “You were right. It could have happened in any relationship, I just…” He closed his eyes. “I’ve been fit for a really long time, you know, and I’ve never done a proper relationship, and I always felt like people just use me for sex and all of a sudden I find out that you’re a big part of why I’ve put on so much weight and it just felt like… Like you were changing me.”

I shook my head and hugged him again. “I’m so sorry,” I said into his shoulder. “I didn’t want you to change. You’re exactly what I want, any weight, I promise.”

He hugged me back. “I want to change for you,” he murmured into my hair. He pulled away and held my shoulders, smiling. “I spent a lot of time trying to figure stuff out and… you're right. It’s hot.” He slapped his gut. “I get it, I think. I like being big and I like eating and I like that you like it.” I must have looked skeptical because he carried on. “Okay, I’m not, like, thrilled with putting on quite so much, but I also don’t care enough to lose you over it, and I can see where you’re coming from.” I didn’t know what to say, so just kissed him, running my hands under his t-shirt and up his love handles. He pulled away. “I want you to get fat as well though,” he said, matter-of-factly.

“What?” I asked, dumbfounded.

“I think you should put on weight as well,” he said again. “To see what it’s like.”

“Mark, I… I thought you’d forgiven me. I said I was sorry.,” I said.

“I’m not saying it as some kind of punishment or whatever,” he said, and patted my own flat stomach. “I’m saying that I think you’ll like it. That I’ll like it.”

“I think you might be confused,” I told him. “I don’t want to gain weight,” I explained. “I just like fat guys. It’s a different thing.”

“Okay,” he said. “But I didn’t want to gain weight either, and it turns out I kind of like it.” He squeezed his gut for emphasis. “You already like all this stuff, and I just think you owe it to yourself to see whether you like all the aspects of it.”

“Really?” I asked. “You want this?”

Mark shrugged. “Why not? Maybe it’ll be hot, and if you don’t like the first twenty pounds, you can lose it all faster than I’ll be able to lose all this.” He slapped his gut and sent it shaking.

“I uh… okay,” I agreed. “Yeah, I’ll try it out.”

The changes to our classic routine were unsettling at first. No more subtly suggesting dessert or quietly giving extra portions, now Mark would quite happily take seconds and snack throughout the day. He also made sure he wasn’t alone though - everything he ate, he would make me match, to the point that most days I’d end the day cradling my too full stomach while he gently rubbed it for me. Being more open about my preferences meant that we could start introducing food into the bedroom as well - sex now meant ice cream and chocolate and whole-cakes, all eaten off each other’s bodies or while Mark was deep inside of me.

While Mark’s gains kept up a good pace, especially for a man his size, the weight hit my body like a freight train. Without the base of muscle that Mark had, my gains were much softer, and spread across my body as opposed to Mark’s firm core ball gut and fat covered muscles. I found myself loving it - I'd get distracted by the way my flesh would slide past itself, the gentle restriction of clothes just on the verge of being too tight, and the pillowy softness of my body. I would find myself in work-meetings slipping a finger between shirt buttons to stroke around my navel, and it became one of Mark’s favourite jokes to point out when I’d mindlessly pull my shirt up while at home so I could play with my underbelly.

"You not going to lose too much weight while I'm gone, big guy?" Mark asked, kissing me on the cheek as he hoisted his bag on his shoulder.

I swallowed the last of the custard slice I was eating. "You're only going for a week," I pointed out. "Besides, you've managed to put nearly a hundred pounds on me in less than a year, I don't think I'm likely to stop losing weight anytime soon."

"Oh, I see," Mark said laughing. "It's me who put all that weight on you is it? You didn't have anything to do with it?"

"I should be more worried about you!" I said, changing the subject. "Going with all those skinny twigs - they're hardly going to make sure you're eating right."

He gripped his gut with both hands and lifted it. "It's a stag do," he said simply. "My diet's going to consist of beer and kebabs. I don't think you have to worry."

I kissed him goodbye, our guts melding into one another, and he left to get his taxi. I made my mind up to give him something special to come back to - as much weight as I could conceivably gain in the week he was away. I was sure I could put on five pounds (we both did that easily in the week between last Christmas and New Years), but how much more could I do?

Me and Mark were both used to four enormous meals as standard by now, so I added multiple tubs of ice cream and gainer shakes each day on top, to really kickstart my growth. I spent the next week bloated, groggy and uncomfortable - it was one of the hottest things I've ever done.

By the time Mark was back, I'd managed to push eleven more pounds onto my body, bringing me up to a cool 267 pounds. He walked into me lying prone on the sofa, shirt off, fresh stretch marks covering my gut, melted ice cream dripping onto soft moobs. I struggled to sit up to greet him, burping through a smile.

"Uhh, hi," he said, not moving from the doorway. His gaze hovered somewhere over my head.

"How was Berlin?" I asked, finally managing to sit up with a soft "ooft".

"Yeah it was…" he trailed off. "You know, fun. Good to see the lads." Still by the doorway. Still no eye contact.

"Is everything okay?" I asked, the ice cream sitting less comfortably in my stomach by the second.

"Yeah, no, it was just…" He finally moved away from the doorway, pacing around the room, eyes looking at everything except my expanded form. "They kept on taking the piss out of me," he said eventually. "You know, for being so fat."

"Right…" I said slowly. "But you're… you're okay with that, right?" I stood up with some effort and moved towards him. He moved towards the kitchen, still not meeting my eyes. "You've said you find it hot?" I felt self-conscious now, and looked around for a t-shirt I could put on.

He sighed, and finally looked at me. "Maybe not everything has to be hot," he said simply. "Like, yeah, it's great for sex but… Christ Ben, I'm over 24 stone now! Look at me!" He gestured down to his body, swollen with fat in every direction. "Every fucking day was just me trailing behind everyone else, completely out of breath, putting up with fucking jokes every other minute about my double chin and moobs and rolls-"

"Okay, your mates are arseholes!" I said. "Does that matter? Your workmates make jokes like that all the time."

"It's not my mates!" His voice was growing louder. "They're right! We've- I've-" He sighed and rubbed his face, his double chin moulding under his fingers. "We've taken it too far." He looked at me in the eyes. "This," he gestured down at himself and looked guiltily at me, "isn't just 'being a big guy' anymore. It's really, properly fat."

We tried to avoid talking about it for a few days. Then talked about dieting, going to the gym, building muscle, what weight might be a good compromise. Every conversation turned into an argument. Every meal, every shopping list.

I'd gotten so used to over-eating that I'd sneak off in the middle of the night or when he was at work to gorge. The couple of times he caught me turning into raging arguments. The times I caught him doing the same weren't much better.

Three weeks later, he'd packed his bags and gone to his parents. Whereas in the past I'd have stopped eating, I'd now fundamentally rewired my brain. Comfort eating was now de rigueur and every day seemed to overshadow the last. My snacks would have left a grown man satisfied, my meals turned into feasts, ice cream filled the time between like it filled in gaps in my stomach.

I ballooned. My tits drooped, my stomach swelled, my thighs chafed. I was grateful my job was mainly work-from-home, since my old clothes became restrictive to the point of pain. Buying clothes became a matter of adding the biggest size available to my cart and hoping for the best, waiting for the day I had to move to big-and-tall shops. Whenever I did have to go into the office, button-ups strained, my belt dug in, ties became comedically short. I saw my coworkers talking to each other, jokingly at first, then with concern. How could they not? I took up twice the space that I had done not long before, my face was round and jowly and soft. HR sent an email asking if I'd like a stronger chair. Emails were sent round reminding people about the gym memberships that the company offered, ostensibly office-wide, but I knew who they were targeted at.

When I reached 325 pounds I realised I almost weighed as much as Mark had when he left. Would I celebrate, I wondered, once I passed that milestone? Eat a cake to myself? Would that even register at this point?

I heard the door open and close, and I twisted around as best as I could. My flexibility had reached a critical point - now every action came with resistance, as fat bunched against fat and stretched around the sheer bulk of me. I looked around desperately at the mess around me, the ice cream cartons, cake boxes, tubs of cake frosting eaten straight.

"Ben?" Mark asked. I stood up as quickly as I could, tried to pull down my t-shirt so it covered the rest of my gut, did my best to button my shorts. I felt his hands on my arms before I even had a chance to get a good look at him. "I'm sorry," he whispered.

I looked up, finally. "You've lost weight," I said. It was true. His gut, his double chin, his tits, all were still there, big, but diminished.

He chuckled. "The lads at the site still call me a fat bastard," he said and shook his belly. It was true, I supposed - by anyone else's standards he was still obese. "You, erm, haven't," he added, quietly. "Lost weight, I mean."

I felt huge. Disgusting. "I can lose it," I promised, tears welling up in my eyes. "I just missed you so much and-"

"No," Mark said.

"No?" I asked.

"No," he repeated. "I don't need you to lose weight, I don't need…" He sighed. "I thought I needed to get fit again. Lose all the weight. I started going to the gym, dieting. Started seeing results. Got down to two-sixty."

I peered at him. "You're not…" I began.

"No, I'm about two-eighty now. Probably a bit more," he answered my unspoken question. "I realised being smaller wasn't making me happy. Once I stopped dieting, the weight piled back on." He ran a finger across his moustache and looked around nervously. "Then I realised the reason I wasn't happy was because I wasn't with you." I noticed for the first time that he was holding back tears.

I moved towards him and help him for a while. He gripped me tight, his strong arms sinking into my soft back.

A while later, we were sat at the table, a chinese takeaway in front of us - a small attempt at normality.

"So," Mark said, looking at me sideways and speaking slowly, as if to test the waters. "What are you weighing at these days?" he asked.

I sucked air through my teeth. I knew this was coming. I wasn't upset as such - by this point, our relationship was defined by fat. It was a shock though, him coming back having lost so much weight, me having put on so much. "Three-two-five," I said, as calmly as I could. "Well, a couple of weeks ago at least."

Mark whistled and reached over to slide a hand across my belly, as if in admiration. "God, did you ever imagine you'd be the bigger one in the relationship?" he asked. I felt my face go red, and I started to stammer a response. "I've got to be honest," he continued. "I'm pretty jealous."

I choked. "Jealous?" I managed to spit out. "Of being this big?"

He sighed wistfully. "I've always been a big guy, you know? And then when I started going out with you I got used to being the biggest guy in most situations. And I definitely never thought I'd be smaller than you."

I smirked. "Fancy changing that?"

He chuckled. "Just you wait," he said. "I'll be the bigger one again in no time."

I grinned and picked up a rib. "Good," I said. "No man of mine is going to be under three hundred. You'll have to hurry up and catch me though," I told him. "I'm going to be a moving target."

He smiled. "Sounds great." He spooned some food onto his plate. "See you at three hundred and fifty pounds?" he teased.

I grinned. "At least."

#gaining fiction #weight gain story #weight gain #gainer fiction #gainer story #on again off again #no one other than me will ever find it funny that he took him to an impressionist exhibition to impress a date and I'm at peace with that

[evergreenfields]

Tea for Two

Part 2 of Yours Truly, A Hostage (Part 1).

After rescuing you in Piccadilly Circus, the Captain takes you up on your invite. Naturally you make tea, scones and sexual tension.

Pairing: Captain John Price x fem!reader

CW: explicit smut, piv sex, penetration, fingering, descriptions of a male body and female body (reader). MDNI.

Words: 3.5k

A/n: Let me know what you think! Also, I love how reader can afford to live on her own.

——

You honestly didn’t mean to be folded in half and speared so deliciously by John’s cock. It was only supposed to be tea and scones.

He arrived promptly, not giving you a chance to worry you had been ghosted.

You open the door to find him standing with his hands clasped at his front.

“Hello.” He says, it’s a rumble, heat fills you.

“Hi! Come in! Let me take your jacket.” You wave him into your tiny flat.

“Thanks, love.” You don’t watch as he shrugs it off. He’s wearing a green plaid shirt that hugs his broad chest. He looks different to yesterday, you thought he may look smaller as he wouldn’t be encumbered by all the gear and harnesses. But he was still huge, tall and broad. He’s not wearing a hat so you see his hair is neat and kind of side parted with a lot of grey. He’s in dark blue jeans and boots which probably added another 2 inches to his hulking frame.

“How did you know I love a tea party?” he marvels at the teacups while rolling up his sleeves revealing strong bulky forearms covered in dark hair.

“My third eye.” You point mysteriously between your eyebrows, trying to be nonchalant even though you feel flustered as he essentially started the foreplay by revealing his muscled forearms.

“What else does that third eye see?” He looks at you, it's strange how such icy blue eyes can show heat.

“It sees you behaving yourself.” You say with more gumption than you actually felt. You carry over the teapot and he waits to seat you. You can’t help but laugh awkwardly as he gently tucks your chair in.

“You didn’t have to do all this.” He says with mirth, the delicate teacup in his large hand was making you feel a certain way. You try not to stare.

“It’s a bit much.” You say quietly, “but so was yesterday.” Your thighs bounce up and down nervously. “How’s your friend, teammate, the younger guy, Gaz?”

“He’s alright, he sends his best,” Price didn’t want to reveal the full conversation they had when he told Gaz he got your phone number. Things like “but sir she’s closer to my age” and “no sir, she wasn’t complimenting my facial hair.”

“Oh bless him,” you say, touched.

“Are you okay? What you went through yesterday was no cake walk.” His brows knit together.

“It’s not really hit me yet, to be honest.” You admit, feeling conflicted because you were absolutely sidetracked with getting ready for a date with an SAS captain. You had left your statement at the police station earlier in the morning.

“If you need to talk, I’m here. And there’s no shame in speaking to a professional. A proper professional.” When he smiles, his lips disappear into his moustache and you find it was so endearing, smiling unintentionally along with him.

“Are you always like this with… rescued hostages?” You say earnestly, you’re not sure where you’re going with it.

“Definitely not.” He sits back, ramrod straight, “especially as you were so subtle.”

You feel mortified at how eager you were yesterday and it must show because he leans forward with a concerned hand out, as if to say ‘wait’.

“I’m glad you weren’t subtle,” he says quietly, “I was really taken by you. I couldn’t stop thinking about you.” It feels weird hearing something so vulnerable, it doesn’t feel real. You feel flushed.

“Are you okay?” You ask him, “I know it’s your job but… it must be such a weight on your shoulders.” You reach out without thinking and squeeze his hand, it’s hot while yours is cold.

“You’re sweet,” he whispers “I’ve been doing this a long time, love.” He turns his hand over and envelopes your fingers, you feel patches of rougher skin.

You nod feverishly “I’m sorry I - it’s another world. I just sit behind a desk.” You’re in uncharted territory, he operates in another world, a dangerous one, one that collided with yours yesterday.

“You don’t need to apologise, it’s an important desk.”

You’re not satisfied with that. Trying to find the right words, caressing circles with your thumb into his hand, you blurt out “you were really brave.” You speak through the embarrassment.

“I couldn’t see you but I could hear you.” Your heart rate climbs. “It was…” you breathe out “so decisive and final.” He squeezes your hand. “I knew I was safe.”

He smiles warmly and covers your small hand with his. You sit like this for a moment, in the moment. You were sure the events of the last 48 hours would dawn on you heavily but right now you felt grounded.

“You’re wondering what to do with your other hand now, aren’t you?” He chuckles, breaking the silence.

“Am I that readable?”

“You’re an open book.” He smiles warmly, crows feet etching into his skin.

You reach over and tentatively cup his cheek, his beard tickles your palm, your thumb caresses his cheekbones, he has bags under his eyes, you sense you were right about him carrying unspoken weight. “Am I?” Vulnerability seeps from your pores.

You breathe from your mouth and on your second intake, John has a hand on the back of your neck. His azure eyes flicker between your eyes and your lips. You didn’t realise how your hands got to his shoulders and on the back of his neck.

He pulls you in slowly and you engulf him, the band has snapped, the kiss is deep and forceful. He controls the pace which is deliberate and slow. He bleeds into you and you feel dizzy with the intensity. His mouth is molten on yours.

You both break away with a pant, the table shakes and the cutlery clinks.

“You alright, love?” Both of his hands are back on the table, palms down, unthreatening. His voice is no longer suggestive, but clipped. You search each other’s eyes.

“I’m good.” You nod frantically.

“We can go as far as you want, we can stop right here, you’re in charge alright?” Your heart and stomach flips.

“I-.” You laugh, shaking your head, all you can feel is the wetness growing in your knickers.

“Talk to me, love.” He flips his hands so his palms are facing up.

“I’m not usually like this.” You say, standing up, “but then yesterday wasn’t usual either.”

Pushing your chair back abruptly with a squeak, you climb into his lap and straddle him. You hear a quiet vibration from his throat, a delectable groan.

“If it makes you feel better, neither am I.” He feels just like you imagined but better, harder, expanses of muscle and a layer of mass. Your dress barely covers your ass as you seat yourself on his lap. His hands move along your waist and down to the swell of your hips. You can smell his cologne and see his eyelashes flutter again as his gaze roams over your chest and neck.

He looks up at you and you can’t look back, his gaze is too intense, you want the floor to swallow you up. You look up to your left, feeling goosebumps as he explores your exposed thighs. He presses them, sighing.

He kisses your neck. You feel tickled by his beard hairs and flexing thigh muscles. In response to his kiss, you do what any respectable woman would do on top of a man, you push against his hardening cock. The chair creaks as he bucks his hips up to meet yours, both of your heavy breathes filling the room.

When he hears the moan that tears from your throat, he is undone. He imagined what you sounded like while he got dressed for the date, and this didn’t hold a candle to it. With one swift motion he pushes his seat back and lifts you up. He squeezes your ass which causes your cunt to flutter and twitch, your knickers fall into your folds.

“My bedroom’s out there to the right.” You wrap your legs around him and you feel something hard.

“Fffuck!” You gasp and grind into him, unashamed.

“That’s my belt buckle.”

You whine in response.

“In time, in time.” he kneads your ass while minding your knees through the tight corridor. He gently lays you on the bed and pushes you into the mattress, manoeuvring so his growing manhood is against your throbbing cunt.

“This is a nice room.” He says seriously while only looking at your eyes and pushing his erection against the juncture of your spread legs, waiting for your reaction.

You gasp, “oh it’s big” and push back against him. His eyes roll and you feel emboldened at the sight of this burly man, a captain no less, lost in how your body feels. You reach up under his shirt to feel the mass of his pectorals, you’re electric with need. His bulky arms on either side of your head frame your vision.

“Darlin’ you are beautiful.” He unbuttons his shirt with one hand while still hovering over you. He likes the blush that falls across your features when he opens his shirt. He kisses you deeply before quickly taking the shirt off his shoulders, pecs flexing and skin shining with sweat. You catch that narrow waist and a happy trail of hair disappearing into his jeans which you resented were still on.

You didn’t realise you said “fuck” out loud again and his laugh hits you in your core.

“Your dress is really pretty, can I take it off?” John drawls, you nod and smile dumbly at his flattery, he’s clearly enjoying your fucked out brain working overtime.

You wriggle out from under the dress and let him pull it over your head. His hands claim your breasts in your lacy bra, fitting perfectly in his palms. You think you heard him groan “s’soft” before pressing his lips to yours.

“Did you wear this for me?” He pushes the lace to either side of your swollen breasts and sucks on your nipples. He teases them gently, pleased to feel they were hard and ready for him. The rough pads of his fingers give you much needed friction.

You look up at him doe eyed and then say “I did. Why are your jeans still on?” with a hard tug of his belt.

You see him laugh silently, shaking his head. He gets up from the bed. The loss of his weight makes you bounce up slightly. You pant and touch yourself, mewling at the ceiling.

A wry smile appears on his face as he bends to take off his boots, watching you intently as you draw circles on your clit through your knickers. He drops his boots next to your slippers, they are massive in comparison and you find yourself breathing in sharply.

Finally the zipper comes down and he shucks his jeans. You watch his bulge intently as he moves.

“Are those boxers regulation?” Your mouth is dry. He laughs and you feel that same flash of affirmation you felt when you first met.

“Are you always like this?” He doesn’t climb on top of you, instead he lays beside you and places his hand on top of yours, taking over the job of drawing circles into your bud. He then slides his middle finger down and up your wet slit, collecting your dew in your knickers.

“Definitely not.” You manage to say before you moan and shudder at his touch, you feel a tightening coil and the pleasure spreads through your body like shattered glass, instant and permanent. His fingers are deft and the movement precise.

“Y/n, you’re so wet.” John’s breathing is heavy against your cheek. You look at him as if to say something but when you meet his eyes, you’re speechless. Only a moan comes out and you snap your eyes shut as waves of electricity hit you. You don’t realise your hands are on your breasts.

“Tell me what you want.” He grits against your temple, hot and humid.

You open your mouth but you can only moan while he teases your clit with fleeting strokes.

“Tell me,” John slides your knickers to the side, eyes down at your glistening sex, “what you want, love.”

You arch your back and turn your face away from him, shy and overwhelmed. You really were in charge of the pace.

“I want you inside me.” Your voice muffled by the back of your hand.

His thick fingers followed the curve of your mound and down to the dip of your entrance. Slick with your juices, it doesn’t take much for his index and middle fingers to push through. John’s cock twitches at the sensation of your tight, hot cunt. You hear him take a sharp inhale.

“Tha’s it.” He begins pumping and you’re embarrassed to already feel an orgasm building. God he’s good at this you manage to think. His fingers curl up to your g-spot and you start to see specks of light behind your closed eyelids. John revels in the sounds of your wet pussy around his fingers and your moans. He adjusts himself, mindful of the undeniable tent in his boxers.

“John I’m- I’m- gonna!” You pant in time with his pumps. You can see his massive forearm and bicep moving between your smaller by comparison legs, his once parted hair now messy and his dark gaze on you - you’re pretty sure that’s why you came so suddenly.

“Oh god fuck!” You call out, the orgasm pulsing through you violently. Your stomach involuntarily convulses and you writhe, one hand knotted in the duvet and the other one clutching his free arm. John watches as you ride out the orgasm, the broken pants and small whines short circuit his brain.

“Fucking hell.” He breathes. You look up at him, neatly groomed beard, a strong dimpled chin and a smirk that could kill. He’s stroking his hand over your thigh and up to your stomach, his eyes are hooded.

“I’m not on birth control,” you say with a parched mouth. You roll over to a drawer and pull out protection. You tear one from the packet, you know it can be a deal breaker for men but it sorted the riff from the raff.

“I had no idea you wanted to have sex.” He says dryly, a prominent bulge in his boxers. You chuckle and slap him playfully in the chest, leaving the packet against him.

You trail your hand down his chest.

“It’s all yours.” He muttered as you pushed past his waistband to find his heavy cock. He breathed out with a guttural groan, calling you darling. You bite your lip and ignore the redness in your face, he’s well endowed and you’re almost afraid to see it. You remove your hands and pull at his waistband so his reddened cock springs out.

“Of course it’s huge.” You mewl, pulling back on his foreskin gently to reveal a pretty pink and leaking tip. John tenses at your needy touch, restraining himself.

You slink to the floor and manoeuvre yourself between his legs. John's heavy breathing fills the room. You reach behind your back and unhook your bra. You shuffle closer and the tip of John’s cock smears precum on your breast.

“Oh love, you already said thanks,” he laughs, bucking his hips so his cock is nestled in your cleavage. You press your breasts together around his manhood and bounce on your haunches. The Captain grunts, his hands pushing your hair out of your face. You stare at his engorged cock appearing and disappearing between your breasts.

Soon he gently pulls you toward him and peels your knickers off. He makes quick work of putting on the condom, you like that he does it in front of you.

“Let me take care of you now.” You climb onto him and rub your slit along his cock, coating it with your wetness.

“You’re perfect.” He groans in response, fingers digging into your hips. You grind faster and faster, moaning with abandon.

“Are you always such a gentleman?” You stutter, rolling your hips, your hands splayed across his muscled chest, your cunt quivering around nothing.

He laughs and flips you over, his arms on either side of you. You giggle in surprise and then choke out a groan when he pushes his cock against your core.

“Please fuck me” is all it takes for his resolve to crumble, on top of your supine and smooth body, smelling like flowers and white musk. You moan in unison when he pushes his tip against your core, his hips shifting closer and closer. Your pussy clenches around his girth.

“Oh god - is it all in?” You stutter, blood rushing to your face, your cunt pulsing at his sheer size.

“Just half way, love.” You hear the smirk. “I’ll slow down.” He pushes himself deeper tantalisingly slowly. You pant when his hips are flush with yours, eyes fluttering. You wonder how you looked stretched around him.

“You alright?” He checks.

When you nod, John sets a steady pace, pulling mostly out and then plunging back into your heat, down to the hilt.

“Oh god,” you shudder, hands gripping his shoulders. His stomach connects flatly with your clit.

“You like that?” His voice distorted with the movement.

“Yes! Yes!” He speeds up and your world is a flurry of motion. His thrusts are fast and sharp and they push you into the mattress.

You feebly try to bring your legs up onto his shoulders.

“Deeper?” He snarls, his day couldn’t get better. He easily swings your legs onto his shoulders, the backs of your knees wet with sweat against his chest. You’re folded into a mating press and speared by his cock. The friction melts you, you’re surrounded by his mass, his scent, his strength.

You thank the stars for his training because his stamina is unwavering. The bed frame creaking, mattress thumping and lewd noises from your wet cunt hits his ears, he’s not going to let this be a 1 and done.

“I think I’m gonna-”

“Do it darlin’, cum on my cock.”

“No no - I think I’m gonna wet myself.” You shudder, a palm to his chest.

“You won’t, trust me.” He grits out while maintaining fevered eye contact, “let go.”

And with that, your orgasm tears through you and you cover both your nethers in liquid.

“Oh f-uck!” You writhe and roll your hips, John slows down to languid thrusts, whispering into your ear “tha’s it, good girl.” The aftershocks spasm through your body, your toes tingle and you babble incoherently, having never squirted before.

“Mmm, y/n,” the Captain hovers over you and looks from eye to eye. He unsheathes himself from you which is met with a whine from your parted lips. He plunges himself back in. You’re wide eyed and breathless at the motion.

“Yes John!” Your nails dig into his shoulders and your calves and feet flop uselessly over his back as he thrusts quickly and deeply, slamming into your sex.

Soon his hands are under your knees and you're folded further, the angle causing him to connect with your tender spot. You feel a fizzle build in your stomach again.

With unnatural speed and precision, John gets you on the precipice again. You begin to feel him quiver, his muscles coiled and tense as he pistons in and out of you. One of his hands squeezes your right breast and the other is on the mattress.

“Please Captain, please,” you coo, trying his rank on for size with a broken moan. With that, John erupts inside you with a violent shudder, his member pulsing stripes of white hot seed. His orgasm is sharp and absolute.

“Ah love, fuck,” He grunts, his thrusts turning sloppy and his grip loosening on your tender breast. “You’re something else.” He barely manages to grit out. You stay entwined for a few moments, savouring the afterglow between kisses.

“Let me clean this up.” He climbs off of you, a finger trailing down your left breast. You’re too fucked-out to respond.

“To the- to the um left.” You call out to him but he’s already found your bathroom. He catches his reflection in the mirror, his sweaty and hairy chest heaving, face flushed red, hair falling onto his forehead, his softening cock hangs between his sweaty heavy thighs, with a full condom.

He swings by the kitchen for two glasses of water, still naked. He likes how your face softens when he passes you a glass, he doesn’t know if he’s flattered that you only looked at his eyes when he appeared.

He joins you in bed, both of you gulping water.

“Tell me,” your voice is hoarse, you add a pause, “what you want.”

John peers at you as if you’ve grown another head. Then a suppressed smile grows across his face as he realises. You are secretly proud of how you copied his accent.

There’s a pause and you patiently give him some grace, he drains the glass and places it on the bed side table.

Finally he turns to face you with softness in his eyes and says, “you. Asleep on my chest, love.”

#captain price x female reader #captain price x y/n #captain price x you #john price x female reader #cod fanfic #john price x y/n #captain price x reader #john price x reader #john price x you #captain price #john price fluff #john price smut #captain price smut

[bruisedboys]

I have a concerning amount of Bradley Bradshaw thoughts, so I was so excited to see your post asking for them!! You also made a post about being bad at eye contact and I’ve never related to something more in my life. So…

I started thinking about Bradley and shy!r who can’t hold eye contact with him!! But I can’t decide if he’d be understanding or hold your face toward his and lovingly tease you. What do you think??

(This is my first time requesting but I’ve been following you for a while and love your blog!🤍)

omg. so I’ve decided he absolutely does the second one because he’s such a huge flirt …… also I made this a blurb hope you don’t mind !!

bradley ‘rooster’ bradshaw x fem!reader

You’re out grocery shopping with Bradley (which is nerve wracking enough already, he keeps pulling you out of the way of other customers by the waist, leaning over your shoulder to read the ingredients on a tub of yoghurt you’re looking at, his face an inch from yours) when he stops in the ice cream section and just looks at you. At first you think you’ve got something on your face.

“What?” You ask, confused and a little self conscious.

“You look really pretty,” he says simply, smiling that awful (gorgeous) smile that you hate (love) and obliterating any thoughts of self consciousness you previously had. “I’m so in love with you I could die, sweetheart. Seriously.”

Your heart seems to explode out of your chest. Your face gets hot and you’re sure your legs almost give out. You can’t look at him any longer because he’s so handsome and he’s lovely and kind and looking at him means knowing he’s looking right back at you. With his stupid gorgeous brown eyes and pretty smile and undeniably handsome moustache.

You avert your gaze to the linoleum floor. Staring at it as if it will save you from your incredibly sweet boyfriend. And then said boyfriend starts laughing. He laughs and you should be offended, should tell him off for laughing at you when you’re literally being tortured in the middle of the grocery store, but his laugh is maybe your favourite sound in the whole world.

Bradley drops the carton of ice cream he’s holding in the cart and surges forward to take your face in his hands, never rough but definitely demanding of your attention.

“Babe,” he says, faux serious, eyebrows pinched in an almost-glare, though his grin betrays the act. He lifts your jaw so you’re looking at him again. “I’m talking to you. You know it’s rude to look away while I’m talking to you.”

He’s joking, of course he is. He knows how shy you are and would never ever demean you for it. Still, you struggle to meet his eyes, opting for staring at his nose instead.

“Bradley,” you say, breathless but trying not to be. “You can’t just say something like that while I’m trying to get groceries. It’s life ruining.”

“Life ruining!” Bradley laughs, loud and ecstatic. “You’re life ruining. You’re so lovely it makes me sick. Can’t you give a guy a break?”

“Oh my gosh,” you complain, almost begging with him. “Stop.”

You wrestle your way out of his grip (he doesn’t put up much of a fight at all. If he did you’d still be firmly stuck), and step away, hot around the collar, stomach churning with butterflies, wishing the floor would swallow you up.

Bradley just grins at you. “You’re cute,” he says. “Come on, let’s find the sprinkles. Do you want chocolate syrup too?”

You honestly don’t think your stomach could handle it.

#★ mal writes! #bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x female reader #bradley bradshaw x y/n #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley bradshaw x fem!reader #bradley bradshaw blurb #bradley bradshaw blurbs #bradley bradshaw drabble #bradley bradshaw drabbles #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw fanfic #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw oneshot #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley rooster x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x you #bradley rooster bradshaw x y/n #bradley rooster bradshaw x fem!reader #tgm #tgm fanfiction #tgm fic #tgm x reader #bradleysmixtape!

[elexaria]

brother’s best friend! johnny & simon pt 3

the journey back to manchester was daunting, seeing the same old architecture from your past felt like a punch in the gut. the phone call you make to simon was awkward, it was just to tell him that.. well, you would pop by to see him. didn’t tell him anything else, didnt even mention you left years ago.

after checking into a shitty little hotel with the little money you had, you made your way to the pub simon said he’d be at, and where johnny mactavish would also be. mactavish. it’s been a really long time since you’ve thought about him, and it feels strange to know you’ll get a glimpse of him as a 26 year old man, as opposed to the pimply faced teenager you remember.

“the strongest stuff you have, please.” you say dryly to the bartender, who glances at the clock— it’s barely noon, before looking back at you again. “joking. you got any J20?”

with your little bottle of orange and mango juice and a thin paper straw, you nestle down into a booth, pulling out your phone as you begin your wait. simon did say his train would arrive at around 10am, so where was he? that’s fine, the pub at least has free wifi you can use to mindlessly scroll through. and scroll, and scroll and scroll and scroll until—

“fancy seein’ ye here, wee riley!”

you glance up from your phone, mouth agape as you look dead straight at a grown up, scruffily bearded johnny mactavish. “jesus christ—“ you mumble under your breath, eyebrows furrowing at how.. massive and grown up he is. he grins down at you, still standing. “what? gonnae give me a hug or whit?” he chortles, wiggling his thick unruly eyebrows around you. yep, it’s definitely still the same old mactavish brother you remember.

“ye look different than when we was wee bairns. yer definitely the better lookin’ riley.” johnny grins as he shoots a playful wink at you, taking a big swig of lager to parch his thirst. your eyes flit to the beer foam that sticks to his moustache, which makes you giggle. “you’ve got a lil something on your moustache. you saving it for later?” you tease, motioning to where the foam sits on his face.

“yeah, soap, you savin’ that for later?”

if your head had turned around any faster, you’d have probably broken your fucking neck. simon.

he’s… he’s so different now.

rising from your seat, you glance up at your brother with a nervous gulp. you can tell from the way he glances down at you that his heart is damn near close to bursting when he sees how grown his baby sister is, she’s not the little chubby cheeked scamp he remembers. but he quickly shoves the emotions down, his shoulders squared up as he watches you draw closer to him.

“simon,” you mutter quietly, biting your lip as you awkwardly hug his side. it’s been so long, you almost contemplate whether a hug isnt appropriate. a handshake? awkward fist bump? simon grumbles, patting your back as he reciprocates the hug with the same awkwardness. johnny cringes slightly at how uncomfortable you and simon look.

you find out that johnny is known as sergeant soap, while simon is simply lieutenant ghost. “yer brother’s fuckin’ brilliant on the battlefield, he’s saved my arse more times than i can count.” johnny grins, nudging his shoulder into simon’s, who just simply looks down at his drink with furrowed eyebrows. you nod, chewing the inside of your lip. “why do they call you soap?” you ask, tilting your head at johnny. he howls with laughter, shaking his head at you. “ye don’t want to find out, lass.” he simply says, shooting a teasing wink at you. you shouldn’t be attracted to that, but it does gets your heart pumping a little faster.

“so, lass, what about ye? any’hink goin’ on in the life of wee riley?” johnny hums out, propping his arms up behind him on the booth’s rim, his muscles bulging out from his tshirt sleeves. jesus christ, he’s ripped.

stealing your gaze from his biceps with a flushed cough, you shrug and take a sip of your drink. “i’m studying for my masters up in leeds. i.. haven’t been to manchester since i left.” you finally admit, eyes glancing over to read simon’s face, which is stoney and unperturbed. johnny whistles, grinning as he nods at you. “leeds, eh? northern girlie, are ye?” he teases, nudging simon yet again. “can ye believe it, monsi? wee riley’s all grown up, doin’ her masters n shit. damn.”

you roll your eyes, feeling a rush of blood to your cheeks as you fidget with your drink bottle. “there’s two years between us, johnny. ‘m not as young as you think i am.” you mutter quietly, your gaze flicking up to read his reaction. he’s still grinning, though he nods in agreement. “aye, canny argue with that.”

simon doesn’t speak much the entire time you’re all there, it’s almost like he speaks through johnny at times. “si’s been wafflin’ on and on about today, ye ken. been lookin’ forward to the ol’ riley-mactavish clan finally gettin’ back together.” johnny says, the two of you glancing over at simon who simply grunts, the corners of his lips twitching up into what looks like a hybrid of a grimace and a smile.

but at least johnny doesn’t make it awkward, always going on and on about whatever floated through his mind. he gives you updates on his sisters, practically glowing when he gets the chance to gloat about becoming an uncle. “the wee bairns, they like me. mam reckons i’ll make a good dad one day.” he hums as he shows you a picture on his phone, one where he’s flexing his muscles while holding twin baby boys like the deadliest missiles that cute tactical intelligence could muster up. it’s cute, the way he lights up when talking about his life, even how excited he gets for your achievements in life. simon doesn’t seem to want to get a word in edge ways.

as the catch-up comes to an end, you awkwardly slide out of the booth, rubbing your hands together. “well.. it was nice seeing you both.” you say on bated breath, a look of disappointment flashing across your face momentarily as you glance at simon. johnny pouts as he stands, patting simon on the back with a solid thwack. “we’ll have to do some’hink together, all three of us. like the good ol’ days.” he says, grinning up at simon, who nods. “spose so.” is all simon seems to add to the conversation, looking down at you.

and as you all exit the pub together, johnny giving you one last hug with a content groan, you give them a small smile and a wave goodbye, asking them to just let you know what they decide on doing.

as you lay down in the grotty hotel bed, curled up between thin sheets, you think about this sudden revelation that the two boys from your childhood aren’t cherubic anymore. life isn’t full of giggles and adventures, it’s ruthless and it’s dangerous. and the sight of your big brother, stone faced and silent, it makes you feel guilty. does he resent you for not staying in contact? has it been too long to attempt to reforge your relationship with him?

with a sigh, you reach out to grab your phone from the bedside table, eyes watery as you check the time. 1am.

ping. you receive a text.

it reads, “hey wee riley, it’s johnny m. we’re thinking abt going clubbing sat night. u remember jamies near the maccies? just lmk if ur interested xx nice to see u xx”

looks like you’re gonna have to pick out a dress for saturday night.

tag list:

@waves-against-a-cliff @cassiecasluciluce @dead-cipher @hayleybarnesx @maliakealoha @sunflowervase @spicyspicyliving

#elexaria writes #cod x reader #john soap mactavish #simon ghost riley #simon riley #soap mactavish #brothers best friend #brother’s best friend! johnny

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

If you want, can you please write something like tangerine and reader getting ready for bed together and then going to sleep? I always love to read tangerine fics before sleep so this would be perfect. If not it’s totally fine and thank you anyway!! Also I love your writing sm, definitely someone who’s posts Im always excited to see. 💌

I adore stuff like this!! AAA stop you’re making me blush🥹 thank you so so much! thank you for requesting, hope you like it💌

get ready for bed (tangerine x f!reader)

wc || 0.8k

warnings || none, just fluff & cursing

a/n || idk if it’s a british thing or a family thing, but ‘shouting’ is sometimes used as endearment, so any ‘yelling’ and swearing in this is purely out of love😭

masterlist + rules

taglist

“Oh my god! Come here.” You excitedly call out to your boyfriend.

“One bloody minute, I’m having a piss.” Tangerine replies from the ensuite bathroom. “Yeah?” He runs through to you standing by the bedroom window.

“Did you wash your hands?” Looking him up and down.

“Yeah.” He smiles.

“No, you didn’t. Go wash them.” You instruct, pushing him back into the bathroom.

“Alright, mum.” He groans while reluctantly washing them.

He returns showing you his now clean hands. “Better?”

“Yes, now come here.” You say, pulling his arm so he could be closer. “Look at that.” You point to the sky.

“What am I looking at?” His eyes darting around.

Holding the sides of his head, angling his face so he could see what you see. “The moon, look at it. Ain’t it nuts?” You smile.

“That’s the moon?” His eyes widen. “Fucking hell.”

“I know! And look, there’s Jupiter and there’s Saturn.” You point out on the glass.

“Fuck off! Really?” He says in almost disbelief.

“I know!”

“How do you know that?” He asks, looking to face you.

“Magic.” You smirk. “Bath or shower?” You ask.

“Shower?”

“I want a bath.”

He groans at your request.

“Oh come on, you love them. You know you love the bubbles and candles.” You say almost like you’re trying to bride a child.

The sides of his moustache twitch up as he faintly smiles. “Fine.”

“Be a dear and run it for me, I’ll get some wine and grapes.” Kissing his cheek, rushing downstairs to the kitchen. Collecting two glasses and a chilled bottle from the fridge. Washing a couple bunches of grapes in a bowl before running back up the stairs.

When you enter the bathroom you see Tan’s sweet attempts at decorating. Smiling at his thoughtful actions, looking around the room. Eyes widening at the mirror. He had written ‘I love you’ in lipstick. “Uh- that was a Chanel lipstick.” You chuckle.

“I’ll buy you another one.”

“You’re very sweet.” You say, looking at the candles surrounding the rose petal bubble bath.

“Mi lady.” He jests, extending a hand to help you into the bath.

“Why thank you.” Placing your hand in his.

Shrugging off your dressing gowns, both stepping into the bath. “Fucking hell that’s hot.” He groans. Look at that, a broody contract killer fazed by some hot water.

“You baby.” You tease.

//

You had spent the forty or so minutes chatting and relaxing, helping each other wash before deciding to get out.

Tan got out first, wrapping a towel around his lower half before helping you out of the bath. Drying you off and leading you into the bedroom. Standing in your towels as you search through the dressers.

“Can we wear these?” You ask, holding matching frog pyjama bottoms.

“What about these?” He questions, pointing to another pair of matching pyjama bottoms. They were the ones you got him for Christmas, they were grey with tangerine illustrations printed all over them.

“Yes!” You gush. “Can I borrow this? Thanks.” Picking up one of his t-shirts, not giving him chance to answer. Helping each other dress.

You do your skincare while Tan dries his hair sitting at the edge bed. Once you’re finished, you sit in front of him on the floor, silently asking him to dry yours too. He doesn’t hesitate, gently combing through your hair before drying it.

When he finishes you thank him with a kiss.

Pumping some moisturiser onto your hands, you gently swipe some onto his face, patting around his eyes as you smile at each other.

Walking into the bathroom, rinsing your toothbrushes so that Tan could squeeze some toothpaste onto them. Brushing your teeth together as you mumbled an incoherent conversation.

“I’ll go lock up.” He says with a smile, kissing your forehead.

“Ooh! Get me water, would ya?” You ask cutely before he could get too far.

“Eh? Can’t hear you.” He says halfway down the stairs.

“Water.” You yell out from the bathroom, sitting on the toilet.

Finishing up in the bathroom, washing your hands before jumping into bed.

Snuggling yourself under the covers and kicking your feet under the duvet to warm it up. Your beautiful boyfriend returns with a smile and two bottles of water.

“You did hear me?” You warmly say.

“No? These are mine.” He jokes before throwing a bottle to you.

“Har har.” You sarcastically laugh. “But thank you.” Exhaling after taking a sip.

Tangerine slumps into bed bedside you, pulling you close under the covers. Using the remote he dims the bedside lamps. “You’re so pretty.” He said sweetly.

“Shut up.” You shy away, hiding a grin.

“You are.” Snuggling into you and kissing your forehead.

Rolling yourself over resting your back against his chest, kissing his arm sweetly as he pulls you closer into him.

“Goodnight, I love you.”

“Goodnight, I love you more.” Reaching his head around to kiss your cheek.

“Not possible.” You quietly say, snuggling his arm as you both drift off to sleep.

#tangerine #tangerine bullet train #tangerine x reader #tangerine x you #tangerine and lemon #bullet train #tangerine fanfiction #tangerine fluff #tangerine imagine #tangerine headcanon #tangerine blurb #tangerine x fem!reader #tangerine x y/n

[marleyybluu]

Double Date

Pairings: Oscar x black!OC

Warnings: smut, unprotected sex, use of drugs (marijuana), my smut writing skills

Word count: 4.5k

this is the longest thing I've ever written but I'm sorry I was not splitting it so if your attention span runs long enough to read this, enjoy 😂also I didn't re-read or re-edit the beginning cus I'm too high rn so sorry in advance

ALSO some of this was inspired by Entergalactic on Netflix. If you guys haven't seen it I highly recommend that you check it out, it's a fucking masterpiece, the soundtrack is bomb, storyline is cute and it's so visually pleasing omg. Kid Cudi really did his thing.

"So, look I know you're in your post-breakup mourning period... but.." Carmen took her hoodie off her head to give a full scowl to her sister, she could already feel the question about to come out of her mouth and she was in no mood. Fresh out of a long relationship, Carmen was a weeping mess that barely saw the light of day for almost a month. The man she thought she would marry and live her life with seemed to have had enough of her and made it clear in those exact words. Harsh. And that's what really hurt the most. Not the typical "I don't think we're working out." But a gut-wrenching "I've had enough." With no explanation.

When she told her sister, Vanessa, she suggested that they burned his things before he came to collect them but she couldn't find it in herself to be that girl— her sister said that didn't have anything to do with her and decided she'd perform the act herself but Carmen did find it funny to see his reaction when he saw the pile of charred clothing on the sidewalk. She was appreciative of her sister, her built-in best friend.

Vanessa looked at her with puppy eyes. "But what?" Carmen answered. "Okay so there's this guy that I've been talking to, his name is Jose, and he wants to meet but I'm kinda nervous so I asked if it could be a double date and he said yeah that's cool-"

"Nessaaaaa." She groaned. She was in no mood to even see a man let alone go on a double date with one. "Pleeeease! Please Mini." She pouted using the nickname she gave her since she was born. Carmen rolled her eyes tossing her head back as she looked at the ceiling to weigh her options, she'd been cooped up in her apartment for a while and she was starting to miss going out for a little drink here and there but she just didn't want to see the opposite sex for a bit. But it was for her sister and her sister would do the same if the roles were switched.

"When is this?"

"Tonight."

"For fuck sake Nessa."

"Sorry. But please?"

Carmen sighed. "Fine."

"Yes!" Vanessa cheered. "What does he look like?"

The older sister scrolled through her conversation finally coming across a picture of the two men, pointing to Jose and the other guy who'd be joining them. Carmen took the phone to get a closer look. He wore a completely shaved head, moustache and goatee which suited him well in her opinion— her eyes darted between the two men noticing the matching tattoos on their neck, and her date with a teardrop one under his eye.

"Vanessa..."

Her sister grimaced. "Yeah?"

"Are they in a fucking gang?"

"...maybe."

She mentally cussed her sister out, she should've known that this was what she was getting into since Vanessa always had a type, but she already agreed to this predictable catastrophe.

The time for the date came quickly and Carmen was thoroughly underwhelmed as she got ready, already planning out what could go wrong in terms of her lack of social skills— she felt like she was already lucky enough to get a boyfriend the first time around due to her awkwardness and now she was being launched back into the dating pool. Sort of.

The sisters arrived at Dwayne's Joint, it was a new spot in town that they had talked about trying out and Vanessa figured tonight would be a good night as any. They sat inside a booth waiting for the boys to arrive, the two sisters giving off very different energies. Vanessa was excited while Carmen sulked ready to get this over with so she could go home, light a blunt, and go to sleep. "You look pretty." Vanessa complimented. Carmen tried her best to make the most of it, she did dress up in a casual black halter top and paired it with a brown skirt, around her waist were her regular waist beads with one sitting above her belly button and the other below it so her belly piercing could be seen. She threw a white knitted cardigan over it but would most likely take it off soon because she was getting a bit hot already.

Her locs, that haven't been retwisted in the month, had been brushed and put up in a ponytail so they'd be out of her face and look somewhat neat. If she had to say so herself, and she did, she looked good.

"Thanks. You look pretty too girly." Carmen smiled. Her expression soon faded when the bell above the door rang signalling a customer had walked in, her heart fell to her stomach when it was the two men they were meeting with. "Here come your boys." She mumbled. "Hush." Vanessa scooted out of the booth and opened her arms to Jose, her sister stood almost stunned that the man almost ran to her scooping her up in his arms and off the floor.

She grumbled at them. Is this what she was going to endure all night?

She and his friend stood awkwardly not knowing if to introduce themselves to each other or wait for their counterparts to do it. The two broke the hug and Vanessa smiled. "José, Spooky, this is my sister Carmen. Carmen this is Jose and Spooky."

Carmen delivered a small wave only to receive a nod from Spooky, he looked like he wanted to be there as much as she did. The four sat down, Vanessa sitting beside her date and Carmen with hers. For the first few minutes it felt like a normal double date as far as those go, Jose did ask Carmen a few questions and made conversation with the two girls but soon all his attention went to Vaness which was fine because that's who he came for anyway.

She didn't know what to say to this "Spooky" guy, every time she looked over at him he was just staring at everything else not even making the gesture to look at her plus he didn't look like he wanted to be bothered anyway so she just went on her phone until their food arrived.

There was constant giggling across the table and consistent compliments and it made her miss her relationship even more-- she used to be like that too and she wished she still was. Her thumb hovered over his contact name, she knew she should've gotten rid of it by now but she didn't want to, she contemplated texting him even if it was to have a conversation for the moment but she didn't so instead she put her phone down on the table and placed her hands in her lap.

"So..." A shockingly deep voice said next to her, she was surprised he could speak at all. "So... you don't say much."

Spooky chuckled. "Neither do you. Guess we have something in common."

"That and friends who drag us to blind dates I guess."

"That too."

Saving the tension in the air was the waitress holding their tray of food, Carmen was grateful for the interruption plus she was mad hungry. The group ate and chatted a bit. She was enjoying her food until her eyes wandered off to the door, she gasped and slid down in her chair causing all eyes from the table to be on her. "What? What's wrong?" Her sister asked. "Damien." She whispered.

Vanessa turned around spotting the ex-boyfriend with a new girl on his arm, she looked over at her sister. "Who's Damien?" Jose asked. "Um, he's someone she used to date."

"What are you scared of him?" He joked. Carmen shook her head, she sat up straight frowning at the new girl. It'd only been a month out of a four-year relationship, how come he had someone already? Was she always there?

She couldn't see it but Spooky saw her expression and the way her mood changed especially when she saw that they were walking toward them to get to a table behind them. "Of all the places." He heard her mumble. He sighed and decided to do her a favour. "Come closer."

"What?"

"Come closer." Carmen listened and shuffled as close as she could, Spooky swung his arm over her shoulder catching her by surprise but she wasn't so stiff anymore she kind of relaxed under him. Damien and his date were getting closer, his smile turning into a frown once he saw her and Spooky.

They stopped in front of her table. "Carmen?" She looked up and fake smiled. "Damien, hey. What's up?"

His eyes shifted over to Spooky who was giving him a death stare. "Nothing, just hanging out, decided to try this new spot."

The air was thick once again, he nodded at the boys who didn't even blink at him, he cleared his throat mustering "See you around." Before going about his business. Carmen let out a breath that she didn't know she was holding, her eyes stung as tears that she didn't want threatened to break their barrier. "You okay?" Spooky asked, she nodded going back to her food only able to take one bite before she knew that her tears were about to embarrass her.

She snatched her sister's car keys off the table and said. "I'll be back." Spooky got out so that she could, he watched her walk out of the establishment the last thing he heard was her whimpers.

"Aww, what's her problem?"

Vanessa's ears found that snarky tone. "Maybe she didn't wanna smell your funky asses sitting right behind her."

Damien's date turned around. "Excuse me?"

"You heard me dog tits." She laughed. The girl gasped. "Are you gonna let her talk to me like that?"

Before Damian could answer he looked up at Spooky who was still giving him a look of disdain. He closed his mouth and asked her to sit down before anything got worse. Spooky took it upon himself to go check on her, he wandered off into the parking lot and not too far from the door did he see her with her head down with fog around her and smoke coming from the windows with the smell of weed in the air.

Inside, Carmen's eyes were red from both the Indica and her tears, she sniffled closing her eyes and rested her head back. She knew coming out tonight would be a mistake. Willing to Trust by Kid Cudi played while the weed took over she felt herself being carried off somewhere else, floating around in her head until a small tap on the window disrupted her peace, she looked over to the passenger's side and to her surprise it was Spooky.

She unlocked the door inviting him inside, she turned down the music taking another hit of her blunt. Carmen sighed putting her feet up on the dashboard. Spooky noticed her Scooby-Doo socks and laughed, she scrunched up her nose stifling her laugh too but she couldn't help it. "Shut up."

"I didn't say anything." He snorted. She looked over at him, her eyes falling on the details of the tattoo on his neck-- the crucifix that you'd more so see in Catholic churches but instead of Jesus and them on it the word Santos was etched into his skin, she scanned him until she landed on the other tattoo of the teardrop under his eye. "Something you wanna ask me?"

Spooky watched as she took another puff, checking her out just as much as she did him. She handed him her blunt and he gladly took it. "What's your real name?"

A dimple poked out when he smiled. "Oscar,"

"Hm, what caused Jose to drag you out of the house Oscar?"

He licked his lips and she didn't know if it was the weed but it made her tingle when he did that. "Eh, he's my hermano, just trynna be his wingman so he could get some pussy you know?"

He handed it back to her. "Gross." She giggled taking a hit. "Yeah? Like you're not helping your sister get some dick?"

"Fair enough."

The two sat in the car and talked for a surprisingly long time as if they were on their own separate date. It was a nice conversation and it helped take her mind off of her troubles for a bit, they hadn't even noticed how long they'd been gone until Jose and Vanessa came out hand in hand with containers sitting in a plastic bag.

Oscar saw them making their way to the car and if he was being honest it was a bit disappointing, he was enjoying Carmen's company she was a fun person to talk to, she was funny, she had some pretty crazy stories to tell and he liked getting to know her. She rolled down the window to greet her sister. "Thanks for dining and dashing."

"No problem." Carmen winked. "Alright let's get you home girl."

She looked over at Oscar and back at her sister and whispered. "Are you and Jose not... you know?"

"I want to but I mean I can just take you home."

She lightly shook her head, her sister getting the hint and smirking. "Um, Spooky do you mind taking my sister home? I mean if that's okay with you, Carmen?"

"Yeah, that's cool with me." She looked over at Oscar with hopeful eyes and he agreed to take her so they switched cars and were left in the parking lot watching the other pair get into the car and drive off. He walked her over to his Red Impala and she was sort of impressed by it, it was a beautiful vehicle and the interior was just as nice.

They wasted no time falling back into the conversation they were having before, leaving the venue and driving around with no destination in particular until Carmen suggested ice cream-- her munchies were kicking in and she was craving something sweet. They pulled up to an ice cream parlour that wasn't too far from her apartment complex, it was sort of empty except for maybe a group of drunks who were in the same predicament as they were.

"So, this Damien guy..." He started. Carmen saw that he was asking for permission to talk about and she nodded granting it. "How long was that?"

"Four years."

"Damn."

She laughed, that was almost everyone's reaction, assuming it was because that was getting rare nowadays. "I know. Hm, I thought everything was fine and perfect and one day it wasn't." She sighed drawing circles on the table with her nails. "You know, you plan your life together, everything is we and ours and us...  then it's not and you're being told how they've had enough."

Oscar half smiled. "Well, that guy's fucking stupid for letting you go ma. Stop dating these square-ass bitches."

Carmen burst out at his attempt to console her, it was funny and it was cute and maybe he was right, maybe she needed someone who wasn't so uptight she did find that being with Damien sometimes required treading lightly on things and it could be annoying but she just accepted it, maybe now she needed someone who was more like... Oscar. So far she found him to be fun, and he sounded like he was down for anything as long as it was amusing.

A text came in on her phone lighting the screen, instead of reading the text she read the time and her eyes widened. It was almost 2 am. "Everything okay?" He asked. "Uh, yeah, just Nessa asking if I got home okay."

He slowly nodded looking at her lips, her septum piercing sitting just above her Cupid's bow another piercing planted on her right nostril, the light freckles scattered across her pretty brown skin, the subtle makeup on her face and her pretty natural lashes coated in mascara— he felt like he was staring at an angel. She started to blush and looked down at her lap.

"You ready to call it a night?"

She wasn't, but it was already late as hell. "Yeah, guess we should go."

They left the shop and once again entered the car, the ride was kind of silent aside from her giving him directions to her place but it wasn't a weird silence like how the night started, they were officially comfortable with each other. The ride was short considering she did live by the ice cream place. Oscar turned off the car and opened his door, Carmen sat a bit confused.

"What? You thought I was letting you go up there by yourself? Come on, ma."

She beamed, the little nickname growing on her, she trailed behind him like a lost puppy into the building and inside the elevator, she clicked for the fifth floor and leaned against the handrail. She looked at him noticing one of the buttons on his flannel shirt was unbuttoned, without processing it she reached over and fixed it for him. Oscar thought the minor detail was sweet, made his heart jump a little when she got close, close enough for him to really smell her perfume that didn't fade away for the whole night— sweet like mangoes.

The doors parted and she went ahead of him to find her place. Apartment 504. He made a mental note, you know... just in case.

She fumbled with her keys and unlocked the door swinging it open and turning to face him.

Invite him in. Invite. Him. In.

"I-I had fun tonight. Really."

"Me too." He agreed. The two stood looking at each other not sure what to say or do, not knowing if they would be on the same page if action took place.

Kiss him. Just fucking grab him and drag him inside and just fuck the sh-

"I... um... I'll see you around?" He nodded wishing her goodnight before he crept down the hall and disappeared back into the elevator. Carmen closed her door and banged her fist against it. "So fucking stupid."

----

It was a nice and breezy afternoon in Freeridge but Carmen couldn't take notice, the events from two nights ago, though small, were playing through her mind, their conversations and laughter going on like a broken record. Vanessa sat across from her younger sister still in a bit of disbelief at what she was told earlier.

"So... no kiss?"

"No." She murmured. "No, dick?"

Carmen glared. "Bitch if we didn't kiss what makes you think we fucked?" Vanessa put her hands up in defence. "People fuck without kissing."

"Yeah, weirdos."

There was a moment of silence before she asked another question. "Not even a hug!?"

"For fuck sake Ness, no!" She completely folded over resting her forehead on the park table, she was frustrated at herself for not bringing him inside that night even if they didn't end up getting intimate she would've enjoyed just talking or even smoking until the sun rose. Doubts played in her head that maybe she was only feeling this way because she just got out of a relationship and he was the first guy in her line of sight, but last night felt so nice and relaxing, they got along so easily once it was just to the two of them.

Vanessa smirked taking a sip of her drink. "Okay, I'll be serious, why didn't you invite him in?"

She shrugged sitting up straight, she played with the straw in her cup. "Are you scared of him?"

"No."

"Do you think he's ugly?" Vanessa teased. "I don't."

"Girl, I know you haven't been in the streets for a long time but it's okay to think with your punani sometimes. No disrespect you've come to me complaining about your sex life sometimes, so if this is an opportunity to get some good dick, you better jump on it. Pun intended." Carmen ran her hands over her face letting out the longest groan knowing her sister was kind of right, she hadn't had to think with her punani in so long because if she wanted dick it was right there. She sighed. "Can you ask Jose for his number?"

A devilish smile spread across Vanessa's face. "I sure can."

The sun set as quickly as it rose and Carmen was back in her apartment after spending the day with her sibling, she was successful in getting Spooky's number but had yet to text him, every time she opened the empty thread her thumbs would ghost over the keyboard and she'd chicken out turning off her phone. She decided to leave her phone alone and took a quick shower to cool her down but it wasn't helping.

After her shower, she doused herself in cocoa butter and sprayed a little perfume to feel extra good before putting on her oversized grey sweater with the Space Jam characters scattered over it.

"Alexa, play Angel by Kid Cudi." It had recently become her favourite song to smoke to.

"Playing... Angel by Kid Cudi."

Perfect.

She lit a spliff she had rolled earlier and made a mental note to hit her plug for some more loud since this was her last. A moment to herself in this big-ass apartment, she was getting used to being by herself and in some way found peace in it. Her phone buzzed and she looked down at a text from her sister.

LochNess🐍: Did you text him yet?

Carmen put her phone down telling herself she'd answer once she was done having her moment, until another interruption came, this time it was a knock on her door. She was confused, no one really came to see her unless it was her sister. She sighed outing the last bit of her spliff in the ashtray and trotted to the door, she looked through the people and gasped when she saw who was on the other side. She quickly unlocked her entrance revealing Spooky on the other side.

"Spooky... hi."

She didn't know it but Spooky was nervous, he came over after Jose told him he gave Carmen his number he didn't have much of a plan or a script of what he was going to say to her. On the other hand, she was thinking about what her sister had said earlier, it was okay to think with her pussy for once and she did. It took both of them by surprise when she pulled him down by his black shirt connecting their lips, like a scene straight out of a book she tugged him inside and he reached back closing the door behind him.

He glided his palms across her lower back and down her bum grabbing a handful of her bare supple skin, she was soft and smelled so sweet. Carmen giggled feeling her feet leave the floor, legs soon wrapped around his waist. He slid off his shoes and walked over to her couch. Surprisingly none of this affected their kiss, chasing each other in desperate neediness. He sat with her in his lap, hands resting on her hips. They pulled apart for less than a second before he began to nibble at her neck, she smiled lazily letting out a hazy laugh at his facial hair tickling her skin.

Oscar gave her one last kiss on the neck before leaning back on the couch, she caught his eyes running down her body. "What?"

He shrugged. "Nothing. Heard you been thinking about me." Carmen groaned and buried her face in her hands, he chuckled at her sudden shyness. "I'm gonna kill that woman." She whined. Oscar moved her hands away and held them in his own. "Don't. I been thinking about you too." He said before cupping her chin, pulling her down this time.

Clothes were in a rush to be removed, tossing every piece on the floor until the cool breeze came in touch with their bare skin. Carmen hummed feeling his teeth graze against her sweet brown skin, his thick fingers padding down her torso and dipping between her legs. Oscar groaned at the feeling of her slickness coating his fingers, a light gasp followed by a whimper graced him as he pushed his fingers inside her cove. Her nails lightly dug at his biceps. If she was being honest, she just was willing to skip the foreplay, she wanted him and she wanted him now.

She whined wrapping her legs around his hips, he laughed breathlessly knowing what she was asking for so he stopped playing and gave it to her. He removed his fingers and lifted his head from the crook of her neck, his chain dangled in her face as he hovered over her his eyes gracing her every feature. A slick remark was about to come out of her mouth but was quickly shut down and replaced with a quiet moan feeling him fill her up completely.

Their chests pressed together as he returned to his position, his lips back on her neck adding to the feeling below. She whimpered feeling that first stroke, the second one so slow and delicate he wanted her to feel him against her walls, the third really hit-- it was a hard thrust, an erotic groan sounding from both of them. Carmen held him close, with every collision a new sound spilled from her plump lips, sounds she didn't even know she could make.

"Feels so fucking good, oh yes!"

He left sloppy kisses on her skin. "How are you so fucking wet? Hm?" His tone was cocky and she couldn't lie, the pleasure he was giving her had earned him that right. Her trembling legs never left from around his waist, using her body to beg him to go deeper. His hand collided with her hip squeezing her tattooed flesh in his grip. "Where's my answer mama?"

"You made me so wet." Carmen whimpered. "Shit! Right there!"

Oscar was pounding into her soft spot so hard her eyes disappeared to the back of her head, her legs came loose as she tried to push him off but he wasn't budging, he smirked ignoring her plea for him to ease up, she was close anyway he could feel it. Her pussy gripping him like she owned him and from now on it did. He was hooked, he was dizzy, he was ready for round after round— he never wanted to leave inside her.

He leaned down capturing her shivering lips in a slow kiss, tongues sliding past each other. He groaned when she would struggle to kiss back. "Spooky... fuck I'm cumming!"

Her nails clawed up his sides and dug into his skin once her hands reached his back. "Cum for me princesa." The words barely left his mouth when her back arched, her nails dragging down his back until her hands were right above his cheeks, she was pulsating around him. He slowed down his thrusts dragging out her orgasm for as long as he could and until she tapped out. They lay there out of breath and in a lustful aura. Carmen had finally started to breathe normally before Oscar picked her up and carried her off to an open room that he assumed was hers. She laughed when he tossed her onto the mattress. 

"I'm not done with you yet, hm, I want you to always think about me." 

I know I promised Rio but i finished this first so boooo

if you liked this fic feel free to like this fic. comments and reblogs help and are deeply appreciated

be cool as always🤙🏾

#oscar diaz #black!OC #spooky #spooky x OC #spooky x black!OC #oscar diaz x black!OC #oscar diaz x OC #spooky fanfic #spooky fanfiction #on my block fanfic #on my block #on my block fanfiction #poc OC #smut #oscar diaz smut #marleywrites #marleysfanfictions #Spotify

[transfemzedaph]

idea that definitely hasnt been living in my brain:

joel totally, 100%, does NOT have a massive crush on zedaph. zedaph, who he's heard a lot of things about but, but nothing could've prepared him for how blummin' cute he is, for goodness sake-- what. what? don't look at him like that. it's nothing. shut up.

(hope u like this even if u dont write smth for it DJBDJD)

i fucking loved this ask so much <3. i transed joel & zeds genders. bc im me. also the end is meh & i dont know what grians base looks like and i do not care

-

Of course Joel had heard about Zedaph, how could they not have. There was the rest of ZITS in the life series, Skizz specifically when he found out the both of them were joining, and of course Grians run down of all of the hermits. The basic gist of it was she's weird in a cool way and makes creative and useless but fun machines, which honestly, Joel thought sounded really awesome. Redstone was fine and all but they did tend to think most redstoners were way too serious about the whole thing.

So when Joel was invited over to be the first person to test Zeds newest thing, they were excited!

What none of any of his friends had told them, was how flippin cute she was. And yeah maybe Joel ended up stumbling over their words more than usual whilst hanging out, and yeah maybe they were a little bit distracted from the game? activity? workout? whatever it was, Joel was a bit distracted because they kept watching Zed.

Joel rushes their goodbyes and runs off back home, laying face down on the floor of their newly built home, void they should have put some furniture in already.

Grian wanders over and lets out a little snort at the sight of Joel, who just groans and rolls over, propping themself up a bit,

"This is all your fault."

Grian just stares.

Joel locks eyes with him face scrunching, "You didn't tell me she was cute."

Grian, promptly bursts out laughing.

"Gri, no, this isn't funny. This is serious. And she's gonna think I'm an idiot now and it's all your fault!"

Grian's still laughing.

Joel sits then self up and crosses their arms indignantly, "Are you done?"

Grian's giggling a bit when he replies, "You've got it so bad! For a blonde! Again! You have a type sooo bad."

Joel kicks their leg out towards Grian, grumbling slightly, "Yeah well, you're blonde but you're ugly and I hate you. So there."

Grian sits himself down next to Joel, bumping their shoulder with his own as he does.

"Honestly I bet Zed loved hanging out with you. Don't worry yeah? And at least next time you can compose yourself before you hang out."

Joel leans their head on Grians shoulder.

"Yeah." They sigh, picking at their fingernails, before mumbling "Think 'm just overthinking it cause of being new 'n all that. Just dont wanna make anyone hate me."

Grian scoffs, "No one is going to hate you, and you know Skizz, and probably Tango and Impulse as well, have all talked to Zed about you? Why do you think she invited you to hang out?"

Joel hums.

"To me it seems like she was also trying to impress you too, showing off what she made?"

Joel blushes, halfheartedly giving Grian a little shove, "Shut up."

-

It's a couple of days later when Joel barges into Grians house, "I have an excuse to go visit Zed!"

Grian sighs, "And you had to come and tell me about this? Right now?"

Joel takes in the scene, Mumbo, standing next to a coffee machine, his moustache looking very lackluster, Grian almost curled up on his stool, hands clasped around a mug.

Joel winces, "Uh, what time is it?"

"Too early for this nonsense, shoo." Grian lazily waves one hand in Joels general direction to usher them away.

Joel grumbles to themself as they walk away, "Whatever, Grian doesn't get to know my really cool and awesome plan of going over and saying that we need to beat Impulse and Tangos high score without being a bit cheaty like they were. Which is the best plan ever."

#original post tag #ask tag #smallishbeans #joel smallishbeans #yeah. gay people djbdjd #writing tag #also i think its rlly funny of me that i went mumbo? sleepy & without coffee? moustache looks like shit. #also mumbo after ghis is like hey what? grian is like ugh joels got a crush #mumbo be like. imagine having a crush on someone. couldnt be me. hashtag aro swag. #hermitshipping

[clovenhoofedjester]

jellicle lineups; part 4/4

I FINALLY FINISHED THESE

grizabella | 🌃 🥀 🍂

i really wanted to mix revival and older replica for this one. the thigh-high boots, sparkly, tasseled dress, and generally the wig are all revival inspired, but the curly fur stays and the makeup is old because i really do like the very dramatic, gothic grizabella looks. her coat is also heavily 2019 inspired with the length and stripey purple fabric

i also was not sure how i wanted to do her hair other than it covering one eye (SHOUTOUT TO THE FANART I SAW WHICH HAD THAT. I CANNOT REMEMBER THE URL) esp the color so i did a gradient of light grey to dark brown, which i REALLY liked ! it also helped me decide that shed be chocolate smoke instead of a tabby

idk. ijust like her

i very much want to emphasize the "proud" and "indomitable" of her character in my portrayal of her; think betty buckley. i think shed be 61 in human years.

jennyanydots | ⏰ 🧶 👠

HER DESIGN... is very similar to her replica one because.... i really like it. very heavy emphasis in how her makeup is sometimes done with the HUGE lower lashes and squiggles. she also gets a cute little pink nose and blue eyeshadow

very 2019 inspired also. the hat, tasseled jumpsuit and bejeweled tap shoes stay ...... but i did want to give her the vest and collar from 2019. i just like that. shes also fat because yes

she remains sweet and nice yes. but i think warsaw was onto something when they made her Like That. shed be 56 in human years

jellylorum | 🎨 💐 👒

i ORIGINALLY drew her design a month and a half ago with the headcanon that shes gus' caretaker but bro. that jellylorum & asparagus jr. & gus family angst potential was too great. so i redid her as looking closer to gus. :3

idk why but i decided to go with a 1940s inspired formal look for her.... i quite like the hat and think it helps her to stand out, so i'm comfortable in that decision. her fur design is also mostly replica inspired. enjoy her neapolitan ice cream makeup too

she also gets a pink nose and her collar from the 2019 version. idk why the collars went so hard in that movie

i LOVE one of her 3 words being practical... yes, she is THE practical cat. i think shed be 59 in human years

bustopher jones | 🌹 🤍 🍛

VERY replica inspired.... with notes of other productions. opera populaire had full glasses bustopher which i liked. an older makeup look also had stripes which i also thought looked nice (and makes him look more related to mistoffelees) ! there are also multiple bustopher designs that have the moustache and beard 2 for 1 dealio..... and decided to incorporate that as well

he also gets the fishbone hanky crevat thing and a fishbone brooch. i almost made his rose white but i liked the contrast of the red. enough that i decided to give him lipstick too . and youd best believe that he has a giant fucking pipe that he smokes out of

i love the idea of him being the older generations' tugger in his time. i believe it. i think hed be like 55 in human years

skimbleshanks | 🚂 🎆 ⏳

I COULDNT RESIST BASING HIM OF THE MOVVIEEEEEE im not sorry that was peak skimble. the whistle and chains, the MATCHING conductor hat and pants, the moustache, the tap shoes..... truly, it was too good. my only regret was that i couldnt show the suspenders in this design because i wanted to keep the vest

i did keep the makeup/fur pattern very similar to his replica design though. idk. its just good. emphasis on the brown in his tail, the brown of his clothes, and the bell

anyone else get handsome gay silver fox vibes from him? anyway [being rushed out the door] i think hed be 56 in human years

asparagus jr. | 🧷 🎲 ⛲

lets go babey asparagus jr. inclusion ! i Really struggled with the clothes because i wanted to include the weird yarn poncho but didnt want to make him look hippyish (hippies are cool it just wasnt the vibe i was going for).... so it is reincarnated as this strange tassel-y scarf shawl thing. idk

he also gets a collar similar to jellylorum's because i like the idea of them living in the same house :^3. his makeup is also pretty different from how it appeared in the 98 version because i wasnt really feeling it. i like stripes. so stripes he shall get

hes also wearing a corset thing. idk what my propensity for designing men with a slightly feminine touch says about me (IM A FEMININE QUEER MAN)

not much notes on his personality other than i think he really looks up to his father (enough that he took on his more dignified name). hed be 57 in human years

gus | 📖 🌌 🔭

MUH OLD MAN... i love him. very much based on a bunch of different replica designs for him. he gets a beard and sideburns because i think i really do love the costumes w facial hair, and i think it just fits. he also gets glasses

he gets the coat and handkerchief (now a scarf) that typically hides the growltiger costume... which has a crisp formal outfit underneath. maybe he takes the coat off during his number to signify having moments of clarity and humor during his song

i do think in my interpretation hes well enough to joke around during his number and play the rumpus cat but like. damn you can tell this cat is old. hed be like 93 in human years

old deuteronomy | 🌕 🍮 ⭐

i have fully abandoned replica deut. say hello to haute couture resplendent transgender old deuteronomy. fit with a gigantic white coat, velvet dress, and gigantic fluffy hat. and yes, she did have 99 wives

she also gets the pendant that she was drawn with in the concept art for the 2d animated movie.... what was up w/ that....

ANYWAY YEAH UH. shes very different from the replica deut and other nonrep deuts mostly thanks to judi dench, with her saying that her version of deut was a transgender woman, and her complaining about not looking regal enough in the movie. here you go girly. the nose freckles/dots from some replica makeup get to stay though

she gets a lot of design notes from her children. the grey from munkustrap, macavitys white eyelashes, eye and mouth makeup, and tuggers cheek heart. shes also a light grey to kind of reflect her appearance in 2019

not much to add here other than i love her. i think she would be 88 in human years

AND THERE YOU GO. AHHHHHHH ITS DONE

#grizabella #jennyanydots #jellylorum #bustopher jones #skimbleshanks #asparagus jr. #gus the theater cat #old deuteronomy #cats the musical #chibi #character design #sfw furry #my art

[stargazing15]

It's in his eyes

Jake Seresin x Y/N Trace

Summary: you met Jake at a masked party and got lost in his eyes, falling for him, hard. And Jake, well he was a lovesick puppy too after the party.

A/N: just look at the man's eyes, got distracted by the gif everytime I was trying to write. And that cute face

"Y/N, can you please stop talking about your zorro, I'm actually glad I was sick during the Halloween party, can we please enjoy the beach? I actually want to enjoy quality time with my little sister."

"Sorry Nat, it's just, he was so perfect, his eyes..." and you got lost again in the memory of a couple of nights ago.

You had just arrived in San Diego, following the footsteps of your bigger sister Natasha. You both had the dream to become a Naval aviator, but she was the only one achieving the dream, with your 4'11 you didn't pass the requirements. Still not wanting to bury your dream to work with planes, you became flight technician, the best one existing. So this you got transferred too to San Diego, getting reunited with your sister.

After getting settled in in your shared appartement with your sister she had a week off, starting your quality time with the annual Halloween party at the Hard Deck. Of course Nat being Nat, she got sick on her first day off, something she always had, like her body knew when it didn't need to perform.

Since it was a masked party, she still insisted you to go and have fun. Which you definitely had. Being a part of the Trace family meant the best costumes, or in this case you went as a pumpkin, a cute one. It had a little puffy orange body and the eye mask as the top of the pumpkin.

During the party you had met this Zorro by remarking he was very fake for not wearing the moustache and like that you two got talking throughout the whole night. But your breath got taking away by his piercing beautiful green eyes with this slight darker green shade on the edge. He had also had a good physique, but it were his eyes you got distracted by. Both liking the mystery, talking about everything except your names and occupation.

When you got outside and sat under the light, there was this comfortable silence between the two of you staring in each other's eyes, getting lost in them.

"I can get lost in your eyes" you had blurted out loud.

Jake's POV

"Jake can you please stop talking about your pumpkin, you should've asked her number, idiot. You know there's a big chance you're never going to see her again." Coyote complained to his friend who was whining over and over again about this girl he met a couple of days ago on the Halloween party. Hangman was normally not the type for relationships, but he has never been this head over heels for a girl.

He couldn't get her out of his head, every second was dedicated to her. She was so small compared to him, looking adorable in that cute pumpkin costume, remarking him on his incomplete costume with that sweet voice. And oh those beautiful big brown orbs. She had something said about his eyes, but he couldn't give a compliment back, he felt too lost looking at her, adoring the sight in front of him. So he let his body speak as he cupped her small face in his hands and kissed her softly. He kissed her over and over again in between talking and staring in each other's eyes until she had to leave.

"Jake? Bagman? Hello, earth speaking!" Jake snapped out of his thoughts, "man, you've got it bad." Rooster said while patting him on his back. "But did you see her complete face? Tell me you at least got her name?"

"No" Jake whispered softly "but I can recognise her eyes out of a thousand."

"Do I really have to go with you?" You nagged at your sister.

"Never thought I would say this, but I think you're in love man. Phoenix is lucky she has to miss your whining."

"Yes, stop being such a baby. You're coming with me, meet my coworkers, maybe you will work on one of their planes in the near future. Stop whining and woman up."

"Okay" you give up, Nat won this battle.

"Jake, shut up, will you!" You hear a male voice say while entering the Hard Deck.

"Didn't miss that while catching up with you," Nat whispered. "Everyone, this is my little sister, Y/N, she just transferred here, she's the best technician existing."

"Wait, there are two Traces? And there is a cute one?" Coyote remarked.

"Coyote! She's off-" before she could finish, Jake had woken up from his pity party he was throwing for himself.

"Pumpkin?" Jake had looked up at the word 'cute' and not believing his eyes that his adorable pumpkin had landed in front of him, like an angel descending from heaven.

"Zorro without the moustache?" You had recognized those beautiful green anywhere, your heartbeat rised with seeing him, felling a little bit dizzy. Within the second Jake had wrapped you in a tight hug, never wanting to let go of you. You wiggled yourself out of the needing embrace to start kissing him. You had missed him like crazy.

"Bagman? What? My sister? Y/N, no!" Both your and Jake's action leaving your sister shocked. She never guessed the sweet man you described was Hangman.

"So your sister is the love of Hangman's life, didn't see that one coming." Rooster said with a small laugh.

Jake had snapped out of the world where only you and him existed and stopped kissing, so he could tug you to your sister. "I'm going to do this the right way. Phoenix, can I take your sister out on a date?"

"What no, stay away from her! You're not gonna corrupt her!"

"Come on Phoenix, Bagman here has been sulking ever since the party. Believe us when we say that he's in love with your sister." Rooster was surprisingly defending Hangman for once.

"Phoenix, look at the bright side, your sister can learn him some manners." Bob added in Hangman's defense.

"No! Go date him yourself, I expected better from you Bob."

"Have you looked at him? Hangman has never been like this for someone, look at the lovesick puppy and look at your sister." Coyote was right, no one had seen Hangman swoon for a girl. The softness appearing in his eyes when he was talking about her, the way he was genuinely regretting letting you go that night. He would have laughed in your face when someone would've said two weeks ago he would be thinking now about buying a house with someone, going on the cheesiest dates, wanting to marry her and having kids with her. And right now he didn't want to think about anything else. If it was possible he would do it all at the same time.

"You have my permission, but don't make me regret this Hangman, she's my little sister."

"Y/N, would you like to go on an official date with me, like right now?"

"Yes, yes!" You were smiling from ear to ear.

"Nat, you said I might work on one if their planes, I guess you were right." You smirked at your sister and running off quickly with Jake to the beach.

Taglist: @mrsjaderogers , @bradleybeachbabe

"Oh my god, Y/N!"

#jake seresin #jake hangman seresin #hangman #jake seresin x y/n #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x you #jake seresin imagine #hangman x you #hangman x y/n #hangman x reader #hangman imagine #top gun maverick #too gun: maverick #top gun fanfic #jake seresin fluff #hangman fluff #hangman fanfic #jake seresin fanfic

[icegirl03]

How the tables have turned..

Bradley Bradshaw x reader

Warnings: smut.

Here is part 2

Summary: you and Bradley have a one night stand,what he doesn't know is that you are also a pilot who is called to top gun. How will he react the next morning?

This was requested by the lovely @deeznuggetsbebussin so sorry for the wait and I hope you like it!!🩷

•••••♡♡♡••••••••♡♡♡••••••♡♡♡•••••••

You never wore dresses,NEVER. Somehow you thought that today was a good night for a little black dress. It was just a day after you landed on Miramar. Admiral Kazansky ordered you to go back to Top Gun for a mission,and you had to go there tomorrow,but for tonight,you weren't a Lieutenant,you were just a girl in a black dress.

"Can I buy you a drink?" A tall guy with a pretty hot moustache sat next to you. A hawaiian shirt and sunglasses tucked in them.

"Uhm, yeah sure" you smiled and turned to face him. "What do they call you?" You asked

"I'm Bradley Bradshaw,callsign 'Rooster'".

What did we have here. He was probably going to be on the same mission as you. But he doesn't have to know everything.

"So you're a pilot huh, that's pretty cool" you add and you notice how his curiosity grew.

He chuckled and a deep sigh left his chest.

"Yeah,my dad was also a pilot..anyway can I have a name?"

"I'm y/n y/l/n, I don't have a callsign like you,but maybe you can call me yours for the night?"

-three hours later-

You pushed him to your bed and hovered above him.

"Let's see Lieutenant Bradshaw, how long can you resist,let's test that pilot stamina huh"

You teased him and sat on top of his clothed cock, slowly grinding your wet core on him. Bradley let out a muffled moan,biting his lip.

"Hell, you're gonna give me a rough night will you?" He flipped you around,so you were under him now. He put his rough calloused hand around your throat,and with the other hand he grabbed both of yours. Your legs spread, and you could feel how hard he was. You reached for him but he had other plans. He started to remove your panties,and put them in his back pocket.

He kissed from your breasts to your bellybutton, and then in your inner thighs, his facial hair making you even more sensitive. He placed a wet kiss on your clit, earning a pornographic moan from you. He started literally making out with your clit,licking and sucking it harshly. You gripped on his hair as you reached your high.

"Shit baby, look what you did to me." Bradley took off his boxers to show you that he had already come in his pants. The sticky white cum literally everywhere. It was out of this world the fact that he came just by giving you pleasure. So you had to turn the favour.

You wrapped his veiny cock around your hand, and started to slowly pump it. Bradley threw his head back and gripped the sheets.

"Oh fuck baby" a deep moan left his throat when you started to drool on the dark pink tip,already tasting the new precum forming.

You put all of him in your mouth,thanking the God's that you had no gag reflex,so you could show off now. You sucked him off sloppily and fast,sucking extra hard on the tip. You felt him get close so you stopped.

"Oh fuck come on!" Braddley was out of breath,already so close yet so far.

"You're gonna have to fuck me first,Lieutenant" you gave him a smirk.

He waisted no more time and put on a condom. He slid into your dripping core slowly,filling you up.

You let out a moan,and started to whisper in his ear.

"Oh Bradley please,faster!"

He picked up his pace, and you were holding on for dear life on his broad shoulders.

"Fuck baby you're gonna make me cum" He moaned into your neck, giving you his final deep thrusts.

That took you over the edge as you moaned loudly, and legs were shaking. You felt him throb inside of you as he let out a deep moan.

As you both rode out from your highs, sleep started to capture both of you.

It was around 3 AM when you pressed a kiss into his bare chest and left the room. The fun for the night was over. You had a mission to attend to. You went back to your house and got some sleep. Tomorrow was a big day.

-the next day-

"Well, someone's in a good mood" Hangman teased Bradley,when he saw the hickies on his neck.

"Hangman,not even you can ruin my day,I just had the most amazing night last night. I met a girl named y/n at the hard deck and.."

He blushed at the thoughts of the event from last night.

"Damn..she was that good?" Payback asked.

Bradley just nodded and looked down.

"She had those eyes-"

"Attention on deck!" Everyone was standing up straight on attention,as Maverick entered the class.

"Sit down everyone, today I come with news. As we know for this mission we need one more member to join the dagger squad. With the orders of Admiral Kazansky, she is going to be the new member of your team. Don't get fooled by her looks." Maverick stated.

"Everyone this is Lieutenant y/f/n y/l/n, callsign "Blood". I hope you welcome her into the team. She will be a great help to all of us."

You walk up in front of the class. Hair in a bun and the flight suit.

Bradley almost fainted.

"Thank you, Captain Mitchell. I am honoured to join this mission. Of course, when Admiral Kazansky calls, I will be at my service."

You look into the class to find Bradley's eyes. He was more than shaken. Maybe he should take a rest today. You took a seat next to hangman.

When the lunch break came, you were surrounded by everyone else.

"If it ain't Blood,as I live and breathe. So you're the one that caught Roosters eyes. Poor guy almost died this morning." Hangman let out a chuckle as he looked at you.

Bradley shook his head and smiled widely.

"WHY didn't you tell me? Do you want me to suffer?"

You laughed and pat his back.

"Well,I like a good amount of Mystery, see you after pre flight,Lieutenant?"

•••••♡♡♡•••••••♡♡♡•••••♡♡♡•••••••

Taglist: @deanscroissant

THANK YOU FOR READING,I HOPE U LIKE IT!

I'm kinda thinking if I should do a part 2? :'l

Tell me what you think!

-mama 🍒

#top gun maverick #iceman x you #iceman x y/n #top gun #top gun au #maverick fanfic #hangman x reader #iceman smut #top gun 1986 #top gun headcanons #bradley bradshaw smut #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x female reader #rooster x reader #rooster x y/n

[thelampisaflashlight]

Mixed Messages Pt. 3

[Swiss has thoughts. Not suitable for younger audiences. Previous part here.] Below the cut.

Growing up, Swiss knew little of his demonic nature; He knew his mother had come from somewhere far away, but, so, too, had his father in a sense, the man having abandoned one swamp for another in leaving behind the Pine Barrens and traveling south to the humid hell that is Florida.

It was not until he was much older, already having found his bearings in the musical world in his own right, that he learned the truth.

But knowing what he was did little to impact who he was... until it became clear it was something he had to hide.

The more true to yourself you can be, the freer you are, and Swiss found the burden of hiding such a big part of himself from the world akin to a prison cell.

Dating, already a nightmare, became even harder to navigate, because what would happen if he brought some girl back to his place and she found out he wasn't human?

What if they had kids and the baby came out looking like Beelzebub?

How would he explain that that was... normal?

"You looked like a perfectly normal baby." His mother had reminded him when he came to her, fretting over his identity, "Very fat though. Such a fat baby. With a very big head."

"Very reassuring, Mom."

"Hmm, you never did quite grow into it..."

"MOM-"

His father also tried to assuage his worries, but it was pretty clear he didn't quite understand what they were actually talking about, because...

"I'm just saying, it's okay if you like men. Heck, your old man-"

"Pop, I like women. I'm talking about my identity as a demon." Swiss had sighed, furrowing his brow when his father raised an eyebrow, "What?"

"Are you sure? That you don't like men?"

"I'm not gay, Pop."

"Bisexual?"

"I don't like men!"

"I didn't either, but your dad was a real babe back in the day!" his mother called from elsewhere in the house, "It was the moustache. That lovely thing is why you're here actually-"

"MOM!"

So yeah.

Not much help there.

And then he got scouted for the Ghost Project.

Honestly, that should have been where a lot of the confusion ended for him.

Finally surrounded by people who got it!

...But nobody could relate to the struggle of finding out about being a ghoul later in life, because all of them had been summoned, save for Mountain, but a dude who was alive when beekeeping was the new fun thing to do aside from churning butter and a guy who grew up in modern America have very little in common in terms of upbringing.

Still, it was better than nothing.

Mountain could fill in the blanks for him, at least to an extent.

Like how his magic worked, how to keep his tail under control, horn maintenance...

However.

"Who is that?"

There are some things Mountain could not help him with.

"That's Dewdrop."

And Dew was one of them.

Of course, there had been some resistance, on both ends, and, ultimately, Dew kept him at a distance.

At the time, Swiss wasn't sure where he stood in terms of his sexuality, and Dew...

Well, Dew had his own, figurative, demons to face.

But a small part of him still...

"You love him, don't you~?" Rain had teased while they cuddled one night, Swiss' face pressed again Rain's chest, "I see how you look at him."

Swiss had been embarrassed, perhaps even a bit ashamed to admit it, that, yes.

"...Yes, I love him." he confessed, "But I love you, too... Is that... is that weird?"

"I wouldn't say it's weird." Rain hummed, petting Swiss' hair, "It's different, but that doesn't mean it's a bad thing. You've got a big heart, and have a lot of love to give."

"Yeah, but, is it... Do you... Am I..."

"Honestly, I like him, too." Rain admitted, "I don't know if I love him just yet, not the way you do, but I could."

Swiss can recall lacing their fingers together while Rain spoke.

"We'll take it slow."

Well.

Well, well, well...

"What happened to taking it slow?" Swiss chuckled in Rain's ear as he cuddled closer to the reclining ghoul after Dew drifted to sleep between them, thoroughly exhausted.

"We're still taking it slow, just on an emotional level." Rain said, flicking Swiss' nose lightly, "Something tells me this..."

He trailed his hand down Swiss' arm and pressed a kiss to Dew's hair.

"This is the easy part." he sighed, "...You think he would let me dress him up?"

"Baby steps, love."

"Something nice and lacey..."

.

.

.

Dew glances over his shoulder at Rain as they're getting dressed after the show, hands hesitating as he gets to his pants.

He'd managed to shuck his pants and get the lower half of his uniform on before Rain had even made it to the dressing room earlier, the other ghoul having stopped by the one Swiss was sharing with Aeon before making his way over, but now there's no way to avoid him seeing.

Dew peeks at the soft lace hidden beneath the coarse fabric.

He... he hadn't been sure what to do with them after Rain let him borrow them.

You don't... you don't normally return underwear, right?

That had been his thinking when he initially took them off that night.

But, of course, it would be a shame to show them out, now wouldn't it?

They felt expensive.

And, well, if he didn't wear them, then that would be a waste of money, right?

All this to say... he hadn't packed nearly enough underwear for the trip, and while he could easily get more or risk using a hotel's laundry service the next time they stopped at one...

He just likes how they feel, okay?

They cup his junk nicely, and they breathe a lot better than his boxers do, and quite frankly they hug his ass in a way that makes his minimal behind look a bit more... plush.

He's never really cared about that sort of thing, but now that he knows this, it's become sort of a vanity thing for him.

He likes it.

The only problem is...

"Everything alright over there?" Rain asks, already tugging on his sneakers, "We have to leave for the bus soon."

"Yeah, yeah. Uh, how about you go ahead?" Dew waves him off, "I won't be long."

"I can wait." Rain says, sitting down on one of the uncomfortable folding chairs the venue tossed in the dressing room, "It's better if we walk back together anyway, that way nobody gets left behind. Buddy system, ya know?"

Dew swallows, "Yeah, sure."

"Well?"

"Well what?"

"...Are you going to show me your panties or not?"

.

.

.

Swiss doesn't question it when Dew rushes the bus, haphazardly dressed, red in the face from thinking he'd miss it -not like they could leave without their lead guitarist- nor is he at all surprised to see Rain saunter in not but a moment later.

What he is surprised by, however, is the wadded up ball of black lace Rain casually presses into his hands as he leans in for a kiss.

"You can keep those."

Swiss lets the fabric unfold, "...Holy shit."

"I already told Dew he could borrow another pair." Rain shrugs, "I'm thinking something blue. Maybe I'll get you a matching set..."

#lamp writes #shitghosting #nameless ghouls #dewdrop ghoul #rain ghoul #swiss ghoul #swissraindrop #ghost band #the band ghost #ghost bc #ghost band fanfic #nameless ghoul shipping

[newtonsheffield]

how does Kate find out that Anthony was bothered about her possibly leaving BFR in the documentary? (also, do they watch the show together??)

Kate and Anthony actually do watch the new season of the Netflix doco.

Kate didn't give any interviews this season but Anthony did and Kate's a little curious, honestly.

"I'm not going to watch it with you." Anthony chuckled, nuzzling her neck gently as they lay together on the sofa, their legs intertwined. "I know you're obsessed with me, but watching me on the screen is a bit much. Especially when there're so many more interesting things I'd be willing to do for you."

Kate narrowed her eyes, "What don't you want me to see?"

"I don't know what you're talking about." Anthony scoffed taking out his moustache comb and combing his moustache with one eye open, watching its effect on her.

Kate wavered for a moment, "Don't use that moustache to distract me. You know I can't resist it."

"How dare you accuse me of such underhanded tactics." Anthony looked offended, "But now that you mention it, my poor little moustache is perhaps a little lonely and cold and maybe you could warm him up for me."

"We're watching it." Kate sighed, "And then, based on what you say about me, I'll decide if he deserves it."

"You look cute." Kate hummed, as Anthony's face appeared on the screen grinning in the dark set.

"I'm Anthony Bridgerton and I drive for Bridgerton Family Racing. We're back for season 2, baby!"

And she watches it unfold, with Anthony's voice over, with Edmund's.

"We've got a new chief engineer this year, Kate, and we're super excited to have her on board." Edmund paused, "Well, Anthony's ... adjusting. It's sort of hilarious to watch his flustered little face."

There were dozens of shots of them, Interspersed throughout, Kate and Anthony bickering in the paddock, Anthony lifting her up in excitement, her grinning and trying to hide it as he flipped off the nose of his car.

"Um yeah," Anthony said in his interview, blushing a little furiously. "Kate and I had a rocky start but um... yeah. We've found a rhythm, I really like her."

"And the rumours about you and her?" The producer asked off screen and Anthony's ears went bright red.

"Cute." Kate nodded, kissing his forehead. "You're really cute."

The Anthony on the screen cleared his throat, "There's... we're not in a relationship."

"Do you want to be?"

Anthony's face screwed up clearly embarrassed, "Um yeah, I'd love if we were in a relationship. You're going to cut this right?"

Kate watched as the tone changed and the fluttering in her chest stopped.

"And how do you feel about the fact she might leave BFR?"

Anthony's face fell, "I um... yeah I don't... I don't really want her to leave. But Kate's her own person and she has to do what's best for her and her career. I'll be happy for her, if wat's best for her isn't at BFR. I just... I want her to be happy."

Kate paused it, sitting up and tugging Anthony with her. He was blushing a little, avoiding her eyes but his arm was still wrapped around her waist.

"Is this what you were trying to hide?"

Anthony shrugged, "Honestly, I thought they'd cut it."

"And you were worried I'd find out that you were a huge, supportive sweetheart who only wanted the best for me?" Kate chuckled, nudging his cheek with her nose.

"I... well... you already know that now!" Anthony said defensively. "And I was actually worried you were going to find out that I am the one who broke your headset."

"Oh I knew it!"

"I was on my scooter and I just accidentally knocked it off."

"You are a grown man with a razor scooter!"

"You think I'm cute!"

"I actually do." Kate sighed, "And what d'you know, poor little moustache is looking a little lonely."

And the very next year Kate sits down and watches herself on the screen.

"First one of these, little nervous."

"You're doing great," The producer said, "Just tell us your name and what you do."

Kate cleared her throat, "I'm Kate Sharma, I'm the principal engineer for Bridgerton Family Racing and I run race day for Anthony."

"And who is Anthony Bridgerton?"

"He is the current world formula one world champion." She let a smile spread over her face, "Oh, and he's my husband."

"Congratulations." The producer said and the crew clapped.

"Yes, we got married in Monaco in May." Kat watched herself smile, "Super happy, he's very sweet and... you guys saw how obsessed he was last season. So I'm ready to show that this is an equal-obsession marriage."

"What's your favourite thing about Anthony?"

Kate paused for a second before she sighed, "He's going to make fun of me because I made fun of him: But ladies, date a moustache boy."

#nothing good starts #kathony #anthony x kate #kate sharma #kate sheffield #anthony bridgerton #molly’s asks and answers