#i guess he's going to be one half of the side couple?

[cas-backwards-tie]

Wonderstruck

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Ex!Reader

Summary: Simon Riley finally takes it upon himself to check up on his childhood best friend and ex lover. He's been torturing himself reminiscing on your relationship and what went wrong for years now. Little does he know... you're in the same boat. Having seen someone today you swore was Simon on your way to work, you too, reflect on the past.

Words: 3.2k

Warnings: Cursing, Angst, Stalking(?),

Mentions of: Drinking, Smoking, Motorcycle Riding

A/N: I don't know why but I constantly am getting inspired by certain songs, or am reminded of certain characters, and all the lyrics were just screaming childhood best friends to estranged lovers, right person wrong time Simon Riley. Nevertheless, if you'd love to listen to some versions of the song which inspired me, here we are! Line divider credit: @saradika-graphics and I'd also love to thank @penelopepine for helping me with the ending <3

He knew it was a bad idea as soon as it'd crossed his mind, yet somehow he couldn't rid himself of it time and time again. That's how he found himself here; watching you cross the street, he can't help but notice the vintage band t-shirt you have on, frayed at the edges with the little strings of the hem coming undone that you've refused to cut off. In you hands you clutch a new phone, no doubt an upgrade from the last one he'd seen you with- though it's been a while.

As you mindlessly tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear, he can't help the way his insides churn. You were always effortlessly beautiful; you never had to try for anything. Even now, the way you can walk across the busy cobblestone side streets of London in high heels without seemingly second-guessing yourself, body language still poised on guard and ready in case anyone tries anything, just like he'd taught you.

It's clear from your outfit and the lipstick you’re donning that you're attempting to sway the officials at work. Maybe trying for that promotion you’d always been talking about, but never had the gumption to make today the day. What’s different about today, he wonders. You'd always been a go-getter, and truthfully, it was something Simon admired about you. Even in the moments where he'd resented it the most, the constant pestering and prodding at him in an attempt to get him to move and drag him out of the holes his dug himself into...

Where would he be now if only he listened?

What if you knew better?

He couldn't deny that the thoughts kept him up at night while he was away. Though, admittedly, more often than not it was the string of random memories that he’d get glimpses of during the day. It’d always be at the worst times, too. Two weeks ago in Berlin he’d been clapping Kyle on the back, hoping he’ll get it together as he stumbled out the pub. While Soap had the camaraderie to slug half his mate’s weight over his broad shoulders, Simon found himself unable to help as his eyes were drawn in by a couple a few paces down the block.

“Bollocks!” He’d shouted out in frustration. Double-checking himself, he didn’t have a spare cap on him, and he knew he sure as hell didn’t bring an umbrella on your little last minute ‘trip’. Not that he’d really call walking down to the local Tesco for snacks late one summer evening a trip. ‘It’ll be an adventure! Just think of it like that.’ You’d persuaded him.

“What? Are you going to melt?” He hears you joke. As his brown eyes land on your face when you turn to meet his gaze, a few steps ahead of him down the road, he can’t help the smile that breaks out across his lips upon your laughter. Sure, you may both be a little drunk after spending the evening in and having a drink or two. But it doesn’t change the way he feels about you, if anything, it makes him even more keenly aware of the way you affect him.

“Maybe. Who knows?” He teases in responses, tugging his jacket up and over his head to shield himself from the cool summer rain. Despite the time, now he’ll most likely need a shower when you get home. As he jogs to catch up and bring you under his little makeshift cocoon, you do the unexpected.

It was you, of course… he should’ve known better, always testing him, pushing him. With a gentle drop of the plastic bag full of snacks upon the side of the road you’d been strolling down, he watches as you run into the empty street. The streetlights illuminate you in a hazy orangey-yellow light as you begin to spin and twirl, dancing in the street.

With a shake of his head, he’s left stunned once again by the vast difference of your personalities. Your jeans and t-shirt are starting to get damp and discolored, and there’s a taunting, displeased remark sitting on his tongue just waiting to be made. It’s the utter joyous smile on your face as you tip your head back and relinquish yourself to your fate that leaves him wonderstruck, he thinks.

“Come on, Simon!” You beckon, finally meeting his gaze once again with that familiar carefree, hopeful look behind your irises. With an outstretched hand, he knows he can’t deny you this… and really, there’s something inside him that tells him he doesn’t want to, either.

“It’s her, innit?” He hears his Captain’s voice call over his shoulder. Pulled from his memories, Simon dismisses Price with a nonchalant grunt. As the old man tries to place a hand on his shoulder he dodges it, realizing he’s been watching the couple for longer than he’d thought. With Soap and Gaz almost to the end of the block, Simon sighs before shrugging his shoulders to right his jacket and head off in their direction for backup.

That was a time when your playfulness been more easily taken and accepted without question. No fighting, no push back, resentments… maybe that was it: he’d stopped going with the flow. He’d stopped accepting the punches and started dodging and weaving your advances at fixing things and picking up where he left you. Because while it’s too late now, he’s finally realized it for what it is: he left you in the dark, he’s the one who pushed you away, closed himself off.

That night he’d curled up in the temporary bed he’d been assigned, more memories continued to consume him. The way you’d effortlessly ease his worries on nights he’d come home stressed, feathers ruffled from whatever petty drama went on during the day. Whether it was something the guys said that stuck with him, or something he couldn’t get out of his mind when he came back from deployment. Your kisses always seemed to be the cure, your love… or maybe it was just… you.

“You know furrowing your brows like that will cause wrinkles,” you inform him, reaching out to run gentle fingers over his bunched skin.

A grunt of acknowledgment leaves his lips. “More for me to worry about, hm?” While it’s all he says, his eyes are searching over your composure.

“No,” it leaves your lips without thought, “just something to think about, be mindful of. If you’re not upset, then why furrow them?” Voice quiet in the moonlit apartment, your fingers smooth out his brows gently as you admire him. “I read something the other day about how it’s possible our body informs our mental state. If you’re tensing all the time, it won’t help your stress, Si.”

He simply hums in response, doing nothing to stop you as you ghost your lips over his for a moment before planting a loving chaste kiss to his. While big and wide warm hands find the exposed bit of skin between the hem of your sleeping pants and the shirt you wear, it’s the unexpected cool sensation that elicits a muffled gasp. Your much smaller hands are sneaking up underneath his sweatshirt to explore his abdomen, caressing him like he were made of soft silk. Your lips meet again for a chaste kiss.

Then it’s turning into something more; you have to take it slow, your lips dancing against one another, his hand rubbing your back to let you know it’s alright. As you begin to run out of breath, it’s only when you pull away, lashes fluttering against his skin that you ask him. “You know I’d love you even with wrinkles, right?”

Taken aback, he can’t help but stare. Unsure how to respond or what to do, his lips part in search of words. “Is that so?” He finally questions, hand giving your side a soft squeeze.

“My favorite boy… I love you to the moon and back… scars and all. I always have, and I always will, Simon,” you whisper, ghosting his lips again before planting one on him, “I just hope you know that.”

And at the time, he swore he did. It’s odd, really, and he wouldn’t lie to himself about it either. Simon tried dating after you, he tried hooking up, he tried it all… but it never felt right. As many times as he replays the memory, he can never get past the feeling of home. With you, it felt like home. You never made him feel expendable, or worry of the abandonment he knew would inevitably come.

For years afterward he blamed you, he saw it as your fault that you left, you abandoned him… when, maybe, really it’s finally time he admits it was him. He made it a self-fulfilling prophecy, and there was nothing you could do.

It's on your way home from work that you see them; while waiting for the bus, there's a playground in the park a few meters away. Really, the idea that human nature is predictable is always laughable at first, but only after watching people and stepping back to become an observer you've noticed from time to time that... it's more than true. Even from a distance, the children in the park look happy... but that's not what catches your eye. There's a blonde boy, and a girl, much like yourself when you were younger, playing what you can only assume is something halfway between hide and seek and tag, considering the playground offers more space and obstacles than hiding spots.

Perhaps it's the joyous looks on their little faces, or the way they unabashedly play, carefree and unaware of the adult worries and burdens the world hangs above their heads, just waiting any day to drop upon their shoulders unexpectedly. However, you can't help but reminisce on the ways you'd spent your childhood playing games much like the one the children are playing in the distance with a boy, very similar to the one before you, loving life, content, happy, simply aspiring to be the best at finding your ultimate hiding spot.

The soft squeak of the wheels coming to a halt before you and the mechanical release of air as the doors open brings your attention back to the present. Before you know it, you're on the bus, unconsciously taking a seat along the windows, hoping, just maybe you'll catch a glimpse of them as the bus drives down the road down its route. Though as you pass, the sun is beginning to set in the distance, the children departing the playground their separate ways as dusk begins to take its toll and curfew sets in place. The whole time you'd been focused on yourself, it's entirely possible that your own boy wound up beating you at your own game, finding the best spot and hiding himself away from the rest of the world.

Maybe it's the fact that you could've sworn you'd seen someone that looked almost identical to Simon on your way to work this morning, but memories continue to plague your mind for the first time in months. All the weekends he'd spent over at your house doing aimlessly silly things to fill your time, from science projects, to playing 'warrior' outside, you never felt more alive than the time you two spent together.

"I'll keep ya safe, yeah? Nothin' to worry about," Simon insists, gently guiding you to the side of the vehicle. Despite going out with your friends to the city for dinner, you both were sober. It should be fine, it would be. You'd been with him a million times... how different could it be? He'd run it by you as many times as you'd asked.

You swear it's not a good idea, but you trust him to the ends of the Earth. With a look over your shoulder, his brown eyes are steady, not uncertain in his unwavering gaze as he nods in assurance. Swinging a leg over the seat, you're in front this time. Helmets in place, hands on the clutch and brakes, you make eye contact with Simon once more before he flicks both your visors down. "Ready?" You ask him.

"More than ready, Love," he quips. With a quick shove to the kickstand, balance (with Simon's help of course), and a rev of the engine, you start the motorcycle off slowly. Gloved hands around your waist, he gives you a gentle squeeze.

He was always pushing you out of your comfort zone, that one. It was the first time you'd driven his motorcycle, and while it'd been scary and daunting for the first fifteen minutes, you eventually got used to it and it blossomed into something freeing. You understood then why he likes it, and you'd never been more grateful for someone pushing you out of your bubble. While flashes of all the kisses, caresses, and intimate moments between the two of you start to effervesce, you force yourself to remember the last time you'd seen him.

With a lingering hug, you're hesitant to let him go. Even if you know it's necessary, it's still hard... it always has been. "You'll let me know when you get in, right?" You ask, searching his eyes. They stand out from the black warpaint, his uniform always made him look handsome, even if you couldn't imagine how intimidating seeing his actual attire would be in his enemies position.

A dismissive and irritated grunt meets your ears as he shrugs your hands off. He'd packed quickly, something he's been doing more recently; taking more and more jobs, you've begun worrying for his health, not that he'd talk about it, of course. "If I 'ave time."

While you weren't able to get all the details on this excursion, you did manage to get that it was essentially a 'clean-up' for him. He had to go in and make sure that the hostages they'd had a lead on were all rescued and no one was left behind, no assailants or informants lingering or hiding. You've known that his job is hard on him. Losing people can't be easy, especially when you feel like you could've done things differently and changed the ending to their stories. Yet, you also know that throwing yourself into work the way he's been doing without talking to anyone, simply managing to pass debrief counseling by whatever meter their measuring is... not working. Not anymore, at least.

"You're running from this! You won't even answ-" you shout, gesticulating as you do everything in your power to keep the anger and worry that's tightly wound wrapped up in your gut under control, not to let anymore of it seep out than already has.

"An' you're one to talk?! You don't get to interrogate me," he argues, rounding the couch to get closer. The dark circles under his eyes scream volumes, even if he's unwilling to acknowledge whatever's going on for him. "I deal with that enough in my line o' work. Don't-"

"Simon," you say, tone holding that familiar warning tone.

You'd gotten home safely and were able to change and make something to eat. The feelings haven't left the cavity of your chest, still lingering there, the way he always does. He may be 'Ghost' on the field, yet he still haunts your memories, always making you question whether or not you did the right thing. What if only you'd done more? What if you hadn't pushed him so much? It wasn't always in a bad way, either, in fact, most of the time you'd find yourself chuckling randomly at some inside joke only the two of you share, or something he'd find funny. The stolen sweaters and hoodies you know for a fact long ago washed away his scent. Even if you swear sometimes that you can smell the faint odor of cigarettes he used to smoke. In the city when you're out with the girls you'd find yourself fondly inhaling the smell whenever a stranger would be smoking one nearby.

You'd cursed him: Simon Riley. Yet, the aching inside you he left often made you feel like he there's some sense of closure he never fully gave you. The SAS would tell you that he'd get your letters, even if you stopped writing years ago a little while after the split. You never got a response, and you never really expected one. Simon never really was one for letter writing. It was the only way you felt like you could get that closure, that part of your life done with. Ultimately, it did help you move on in some way.

A sigh tumbles past your lips as you change the channel on the television, unsure what you really feel like watching. A reality comedy show is on, something of a local prank show. It wasn't the best show, really, but it's one you used to watch a lot as a kid, and thus, another reminder of him. This one makes you smile, nonetheless. It's a good memory; nostalgia envelopes you in the way that makes you crave times that felt easier. Just when you wrap yourself in your fuzzy blanket, there's a soft rapt at the door.

Heart accelerating, eyes widening slightly, you slowly rise from the couch. The television volume isn't on loud, and while there may be light coming from it to inform a stranger you're home, that isn't enough to say that you're alone. With slow and cautious steps, you approach the door, careful to check the window near the door from a vantage point you're unseen. It's a man in a black hoodie. Panic sets in and you turn to skillfully head back toward the couch in search of your phone with quiet and quick steps. That's when it strikes you.

With all pretenses abandoned, you rush to the door and fling it open, lips parted in shock and awe. "Simon?" Searching and attempting to scan the partially shielded face, you're able to see tufts of blonde hair lit from the porch light.

"I know you've no reason to-" he starts, hands removing themselves from his hoodie's pocket, "but please let me come in and explain."

"You came back," you whisper. It's more for yourself than him, and whether it's out of bewilderment, intuitive knowing, or a premonition; you were right.

As he takes a step forward and reaches out for you with shaky hands produced from the familiar black pocket of his hoodie, you don't retract. Slow and tentative movements on both ends, he grabs ahold of one hand, thumb consciously skirting back and forth repeatedly in a form of grounding and seeking comfort. "You were right," his deep voice rasps.

Your hand cautiously seeks his cheek beneath the shield of his hood. Fully expecting to meet the spandex material of his balaclava, you're surprised by the warmth of his skin underneath your gentle touch. Wrist pushing against the cotton hood, it gives way, revealing his face. Searching his deep brown eyes for any sign he's genuine... you're met with truth.

With a weak nod you turn, leaving the door to shut softly behind the two of you.

~~~~~~~

forever taglist: @ohdamnadam , @safarigirlsp , @jynzandtonic , @moonlightsolo

#simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #my writing #song fic #taylor swift #cardigan #simon riley x reader angst #angst #angst with a happy ending #simon ghost riley x ex!reader #simon riley x ex!reader #simon riley x cbf!reader #simon ghost riley x cbf!reader #biker!simon riley #song fics

[pharawee]

—SPARE ME YOUR MERCY · Coming Soon 2024

#spare me your mercy #spare me your mercy the series #tor thanapob #jj krissanapoom #aelm bhumibhat #sparemeyourmercyedit #thai bl #thai drama #bl drama #bl series #my edits. #these 16 seconds are all i'm going to think about until february #this is perfect #tor as gun is going to so amazing #it's exactly the kind of character he plays best #but mostly i'm here for jaylerr because aaaaaaah #and aelm is such a welcome surprise #i guess he's going to be one half of the side couple? #check out inhuman kiss 2 and doi boy if you need stuff to watch until the real trailer drops

[moonstruckme]

A Christmas Special

summary: after Christmas Eve at Remus' flat, thick snowfall prevents you from going home. He's more than happy to host you

cw: mentions of alcohol, smut mdni, p in v, oral (fem receiving), praise, inexperienced reader, shy little idiots in love

Remus Lupin x fem!reader ♡ 11k words

Remus isn’t sure entirely how he’d gotten strongarmed into hosting Christmas Eve at his flat. James and Lily usually host, but James claimed that this year their house was in too much a state of “baby mayhem” to have any hope of being tidied enough for a gathering. He’s said it in such a lovesick voice Remus couldn’t push back for long, his friend’s happiness so potent it was like looking into the sun. Sirius had begged off quickly, saying that his “bachelor pad” was too small to have a group over. As usual, when Remus spoke last, the matter was settled before he’d gotten the chance to have much of a say. 

He’s made an effort to live up to the hosting legacy passed onto him by the Potters, but it’s a flimsy attempt at best. Thankfully, the snowfall outside is doing a fair amount of the work for him. Remus’ street is coated in fresh, gleaming powder, enough that the trees look weighted down with it and his neighbor had put her little dog in a knit sweater to go into the yard and do its business. It’s still coming down, the snowflakes visible in crisp contrast against the darkening sky as they drift lazily to the earth. 

Inside Remus’ home, the Christmas tree is nearly covered in tinsel to make up for his scant supply of ornaments, he’s run out of stockings to put up above the fireplace and has had to use one large sock (that one will have to be for Sirius), and he’s still stringing up popcorn when a knock sounds on the door. 

Remus is surprised (he’d told everyone to come at six, but that was only because he didn’t think anyone would actually show up until a couple hours after), but that dies away when he unbolts the door and opens it to find you on the other side. 

“Hi,” you say, teeth nearly chattering as Remus ushers you inside. “Sorry I’m late, traffic was worse than I expected.” 

“It’s hardly fifteen after six.” Remus takes your coat, tsking. “People do seem to become worse drivers around the holidays, don’t they?” 

“Well, I suppose not everyone on the road tonight might be used to driving in the snow,” you allow, ever forgiving. 

Remus smiles. “Merry Christmas, love.” 

Your face is already flushed from the chill outside, but he could swear it goes pinker as you unwrap your scarf, smiling back at him. “Merry Christmas.” You’re merry as can be, cheeks dimpling and eyes sparkling under the twinkling lights Remus is suddenly very glad he decided to purchase for the occasion. “Where is everyone?” 

“Well,” Remus says, heading back for the couch, “Sirius is hitching a ride with James and Lily, so if I had to guess I’d wager that James is just putting the finishing touches whatever food he’s decided to bring while Lily tries to rush him out the door. And then they’ll go to Sirius’ place and have to wait for him to finish wrapping the presents he undoubtedly just remembered today.” 

You sit beside him with a half-exasperated laugh. “I was thinking I’d be the last one here,” you admit, “but I’d forgotten how they can be when it comes to events.” 

Remus shrugs. “Easy to forget.” Lily is usually able to marshal James and Sirius most places on time these days, but the frenzy when they actually have things to prepare is inevitable; Remus has learnt to account for it. He reclaims his half-finished string of popcorn, clumsily stabbing the needle into another kernel and wincing when it goes through easier than expected, pricking his finger. 

“Oh no, did you hurt yourself?” you lean over, trying to see his hand. 

“No, just a scratch.” Remus has about a billion of them by now. He’s far from coordinated on a good day, but the unwise decision to have coffee earlier has resulted in shaky hands that make working with a needle somewhat hazardous. 

You watch him try again, and it’s really the distraction of your cute frown more than anything else that messes him up. His needle goes through the fluffy edge of the popcorn, stabbing him and giving the string hardly anything to hold onto in the process. The flake falls to his lap for his efforts. 

“Remus, your hand’s not a pincushion,” you say, and you weren’t yourself he’d almost think you were chiding him. You reach over, taking the needle and thread from him. “Here, let me do that.” 

“I didn’t mean for you to come here early so I could put you to work,” Remus protests, watching as you string up the next piece of popcorn with nimble fingers. Jealousy wars with admiration, but his esteem for you wins out. “You’ll never come back for New Year’s if this is what you have to look forward to.” 

You smile down at your hands. “Sure I will. You’ll still be there, won’t you? And I really don’t mind helping, it gives me something to do.” 

Remus smiles back even though you’re not looking. “Alright, well I guess that means I can start rolling out the gingerbread dough. Thanks, love.” He touches his hand lightly to the crown of your head as he stands, letting the urge to press a kiss there pass as quickly as it arises. He goes into the kitchen and a second later you decide to follow. Popcorn swishes against the floor behind you as you make your way over to the bar counter, sitting on a stool with the string trailing all the way back to the couch. 

“You’re making gingerbread cookies?” you ask, watching with eager eyes as he plops the dough onto the floured counter, rolling it flat. 

“Mhm. You like them?” 

“Never had one.” 

Remus feels his eyebrows inch upwards. “Seriously?” 

You look almost sheepish, as though this is a crime which you expect to be held against you. Honestly, you’re not far off; had James been here, you would have been questioned and scolded to hell and back, and then he would’ve made Remus give you some dough to try, salmonella be damned. 

“No,” you answer him. “We made ornaments of them in school, once, but we weren’t allowed to eat them. I always thought they were so cute, though, with the little people cutouts.” 

“They’re the best,” Remus agrees, pressing out the shapes and laying them on the baking sheet. “If you finish that quickly enough, I might even let you help me cut out a few.” 

“Yes!” you cheer, and he laughs as you start working quicker with the needle. 

“Don’t hurt yourself. The privilege of cookie cutting is not actually contingent on your labor.” 

“I know,” you say, but your hands don’t slow. Remus has barely finished filling his second baking sheet before you’re done, having made more progress in the last twenty minutes than he had over nearly an hour. 

Remus’ hip touches yours as he shows you how to give the cookie cutters a little shake in the dough, freeing the shape before lifting it and placing it on the sheet. It’s not a painfully difficult task, and still he’s impressed by how quickly you catch on. You’re a machine of efficiency. You seem to enjoy rolling out the dough almost as much as pressing out the shapes, falling into a quick, happy rhythm. Before long you’ve pushed Remus out of the way (Lily would be proud, he thinks), urging him to go and hang up the popcorn garland before everyone else arrives. 

You haven’t seen each other in over a month, both of you caught up in the hustle and bustle of the season, and you catch up as you work on your separate tasks. Remus talks to you about his job, the students who plague him and the ones he wishes he could take home after work each day, and how none of them had liked the film he’d put on the day before break. (“Mister Magoo’s is a classic!” you protest as Remus shakes his head. “They’re too young to get it,” he says. “Our classics are just old to them.”) You tell him about your new cat, and the sweater you’d crocheted her for the holiday which she despises above all else, and he promises to come over sometime soon to meet her. 

You’ve poured yourselves spiked eggnog and sampled a few ginger cookies (“They’re twice as good when they’re fresh,” Remus says. “Don’t let the others’ tardiness rob you of the experience.”) by the time the door bursts open again, Sirius of course not bothering to knock. 

“Hello!” he calls from somewhere behind a tower of presents. “Merry holiday to you, Moony!” 

You get up to help, and so Remus is compelled to do so as well, taking a couple sloppily-wrapped boxes from Sirius’ arms. 

“Merlin, it smells good in here,” James declares as he comes through the door, Lily carrying a beaming baby Harry on her hip behind him. James’ eyes fall on you. “Aw, you beat us here?”

Remus scoffs, setting down the gifts by the tree and leaving you to arrange them as you see fit. “Not a very difficult task, when you’re over an hour late,” he says. “You’re lucky Y/N’s good company, or I’d be more cross with you.” 

“Sorry,” Lily says as Sirius makes a dismissive sound, flopping onto the couch. “We had some trouble fitting everything in the car with Harry’s seat, and then Sirius—” she shoots him a glare, and he grins like she’s sweetly cooed his name “—wouldn’t leave without his hat, even though he’d lost it.” 

“One only gets to wear one’s elf hat every so often,” Sirius justifies, unperturbed. “I wasn’t going to miss the occasion even if it took me all night to find it.” 

“It nearly did,” Lily shoots back, but then James is at her side, having discarded his load of food and presents and now vying to hold Harry. 

“Come here, my handsome little guy.” 

“Used to call me that,” Sirius quips with his mouth full of gingerbread cookies, a heaping plate seeming to have found its way into his lap. 

Remus isn’t going to smile at that poor attempt at a joke, but once you laugh he can’t help it. 

“Only on special occasions,” James replies, taking Harry under the arms and hoisting him into the air. Harry laughs, and it’s probably the most contagious thing Remus has ever heard. Everyone smiles; James most of all, grinning ear to ear as he does it again. 

“He never lets me hold him,” Lily complains fondly. 

“Because I know how much you like seeing me with him,” James says breezily, making a face at Harry above him. “You’re mad with lust right now, Evans, don’t try to deny it.” 

“Sleaze,” Sirius says to him, the bell on his hat jingling when he tilts his head.

“I know you are, but what am I?” 

“I,” Remus says, “am hungry. And I’ll bet Y/N is too, since she’s very politely refrained from snacking much while we waited for you lot.” 

James' attention actually leaves his son for half a second to look at you and see if what Remus says is true, and you go instantly bashful. It doesn’t seem to matter how long you’re friends with them; having attention drawn to you will always bring some color to your cheeks. Lily comes to your rescue, ushering you into the kitchen like she needs somewhere to channel her mother hen urges while James is monopolizing Harry. 

“I hope you really are hungry,” she says, “because James has made enough bhaji to feed us all for a month.”

❆ ❆ ❆

Soon even James is stuffed and you’re all a bit tipsy on eggnog. Some of your natural anxiety fades as everything starts to feel slower and more fluid, your insides warm and soft as wax. 

“No, because it was so obvious,” Sirius says. He’s telling a story of a girl he’d seen at a coffee shop that he’s sure was enamored with him. James, naturally, agrees completely, but Lily and Remus aren’t so sure. “She did the—the thing. Y/N, back me up. When a girl makes eye contact with you and then looks off to the side, it means she’s not interested, but when she looks down, it’s because she’s nervous, right?”

You raise your eyebrows. “I think you made that up,” you tell him, tiny bits of laughter running in between your words. “Anyway, is her being nervous necessarily a good thing?” 

“She was nervous because she’s obsessed with me,” Sirius insists. 

“Or,” Remus says, “she was nervous because you were staring at her, and she thought you were going to follow her outside.” 

“And probably kill her,” Lily agrees. 

James’ eyebrows shoot up. “Merlin, you two are dark. Our Padfoot’s not putting out murderous vibes. He’s got too much boyish charm.” 

Sirius nods appreciatively, but Lily only shrugs, careful not to jostle Harry where he’s sleeping on her lap. “Girls have to think of those things.” 

“Gross,” James says, looking slightly troubled as he kisses the side of his wife’s head. “Well, I think she was in love with you, Pads.”

“Yeah,” Remus rolls his eyes, “he should show up at her house and find out. It’d be romantic.”

“And on that note,” James goes on, ignoring him, “shall we do presents?”

You all agree, and Sirius looks at James with an older brother’s entitlement. “Go ahead and distribute them, Prongsie.” 

James, well used to this, doesn’t even question it, scampering back and forth between the tree (which you can’t help but notice is somewhat lacking in the ornament department but quite sparkly) to deliver your presents at your feet. After a few rounds of this, you can’t stand it anymore and get up to help, laughing through the protests of your remaining three friends. (“He’s got it, love,” Remus says, and Sirius adds, “He’s got energy he needs to run off anyway.”) Between the two of you, the bottom of the Christmas tree is bare within a couple of minutes, small piles of presents next to each of your friends. You go to sit back by the pile meant for you, touched at the fact that you have a box from every person there. 

“S’not fair that James and Lily get to do couple’s presents now,” Sirius complains. “I’m going to start buying gifts for you like you’re one person, see how you like it.” 

The biggest pile is obviously for Harry, and you all start there, no small amount of eagerness in James’ expression as he tears open the first box. “The Velveteen Rabbit,” he reads aloud. “Wow, this is kinda hefty for a children’s book.” 

“Who’s it from?” Lily prompts, as if you don’t all already know. 

“Shit, I forgot to check.” 

“And that’s why we read the box,” Lily says slowly, and you get the sense this is a conversation that’s happened more than once, “before we start ripping, honey.” 

“It was me,” Remus volunteers, lips pulling into a half-smile. 

“Course it was,” James says, taking a break from sticking his tongue out at his wife to smile at Remus. “Thanks, Moony.” 

“You had the opportunity to get him Goodnight Moon,” Sirius tsks, “and you just let it pass you by.” 

Remus rolls his eyes, but then Lily says, “He already has that one,” and you watch as he tries and fails to suppress the shy smile that takes him. It shifts the scars on his cheek and lights his eyes with a warm tenderness. 

He looks especially pretty under the Christmas lights, you think. The warm glow suits him, bringing out the amber in his eyes and richening the various brown shades of his hair. It makes his skin look softer too, smooth even where you know he has stubble around his jawline. You want suddenly to reach out and touch it, and you’re glad you’re sitting too far from him to act on the urge. 

You’ve noticed Remus over the years, of course. It’d be impossible not to. You’ve always harbored a tiny crush on him, but you keep it shoved deep down in your gut where it can’t hurt anyone. You think the world of him, but you love your little group of friends more than anything else. You’re not unaware of the fact that Remus is a more crucial fixture in it than you are; if anything happened between you and it made things awkward for everyone, you’d be the one to go. 

“Aw, is this a hat?” Lily pulls something tawny brown from a box, and you realize they’ve gotten to your gift. “Oh my god, it has little antlers!”

You try not to smile too hard as she shows it to James and he coos, taking it from her hands. “No way, he’ll be like our little Prongsie! I’m going to put it on him.” 

“Don’t wake him,” Lily warns, but James waves her off.

“He can sleep through anything,” he says, settling the baby beanie on Harry’s head. Sure enough, he doesn’t stir. 

“Oh, that’s so darling.” Lily presses a hand to her chest. “Y/N, where’d you get this?”

You feel your face heat and hope the lighting is covering your blush. “I made it,” you admit. “I know we’re already well into winter, but I hope he can still use it a little.” 

“Um, he’s never taking it off. Like, ever.” James leans around Lily to press a smacking kiss to your cheek. You laugh, trying not to shrink in on yourself from all the attention. “Thanks, love.” 

Once all the cooing over Harry’s presents is done, the rest of the gift opening proceeds with decidedly less fanfare, though no shortage of gratitude. You get a bunch of purple eyeliners from Sirius (you’d complained to him a few weeks ago that they’d stopped selling your old one, and he’d been thoughtful enough to find you options to help decide upon new one), a cookbook from James and Lily (“Now you can stop eating all those frozen meals,” James tells you with a meaningful look), and a set of mittens from Remus (“They’re alpaca,” he explains. “Supposed to be extra warm, and your hands are always freezing.”). The rest of your gifts are received happily too, and then Remus’ living room is covered with the wrapping paper Lily had tried but eventually given up on getting everyone to put in piles as they went and you’re all starting to yawn. 

“Alright,” Lily says after a while, “it’s well past Harry’s bedtime, and ours, and I’m sure Remus would like his flat back.” 

“Booo.” Sirius lays back on the couch, letting his head loll over the edge of the armrest. “Domestic life has made you lame, Evans-Potter.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” James drawls, gathering Harry against his chest, “I saw you yawning, Pads. Let’s go.” 

You stand with the rest of them, going to find your shoes by the door. “Thanks for everything, Remus,” you say. “It was great.” 

“For a first time hosting,” James allows, jokingly prideful, “I suppose you did a pretty decent job. Big shoes to fill, and all that.” 

Remus smiles as he rolls his eyes, but it falters when his gaze settles on something behind you. “Are you all going to be alright getting home? It looks like it’s really picked up.” 

You follow his stare out the window. He’s not wrong. The unusually thick snowfall you’d arrived in has morphed into something that looks more like a blizzard, the wind whipping white across the black backdrop of sky outside Remus’ flat. 

James looks between the scene outside and his family once before seeming to make a decision. “Yeah, we’ll be alright,” he says, watching Lily as he talks. She nods her approval, and James’ voice becomes more solid. “We don’t have far to drive.”

Remus nods, still looking worried. His brows furrow as he turns to you. “What about you? Are you gonna be okay?”

“Yeah.” It’s the only answer in these situations, though you’re sure Remus would be alright with the alternative if you felt very strongly. “It doesn’t look too bad out there.” 

Remus casts another dubious glance out the window, and a particularly loud gust of wind whooshes past as if to spite you. “Are you sure? It looks pretty bad to me.” 

“Yeah,” James says, “don’t you live a bit far?”

“It’s not that far,” you fib, at the same time as Remus says, “She does.” 

You laugh awkwardly, pulling on your coat “It’s not. Anyway, I’ve driven in a lot worse than this.”

Lily gives you a small smile. “That’s hardly reassuring, babe.”

“You can stay here,” Remus offers, but you’re shaking your head before he’s even gotten the words out. 

“That’s sweet of you, but I can make it home.” You give him your most competent smile. “If I end up driving off the road and have to camp in my car, at least I’ll have fantastic mittens to keep the frostbite from my hands.” 

He gives you a deadpan look. “While I’m glad you’re excited to use my gift, I’d prefer to keep it from coming to that.”

“You can’t get in a crash and die on Christmas,” Sirius says. “It’d be, like, a super huge downer for us every year.” 

“I’ll be fine,” you insist. 

“Shortcake, I don’t care if we have to lock you in here,” James says, frowning in a way that doesn’t look particularly tough when he’s swaying back and forth to rock Harry on his chest. “There’s no way you can drive all the way to your place in this.” 

You roll your eyes good-naturedly, wrapping your scarf.

“Okay, you know I would never usually say this,” Lily says, gnawing on her lip as she watches the snow blow past outside, “but I think you should listen to the boys. It looks too scary out there to drive that far.” 

“It’s…” You look between them, your argument dying of futility on your tongue. James seems prepared to blockade you in Remus’ flat, and even Lily’s giving you a stern look. Your gaze lands on Remus, and the last of your resistance melts away.

“You really should stay here,” he says kindly. “Actually, I’d feel a lot better if you did. Okay?”

You sigh, slipping your scarf back over your head. “Okay.” 

“Phew!” Sirius says, pulling you into a one-armed hug. “Glad that’s settled. See you all soon, thanks for Christmas Moony!” 

“He’s so tired,” Lily says after Sirius is out the door. 

“Wiped,” James agrees, adjusting his grip on Harry so that he can wrap one arm around Remus’ neck. Remus leans down into the awkward hug, begrudgingly fond as he pats his friend on the back, then kisses Lily on the cheek when James moves to you. 

“Thanks for the gifts,” James says, grinning down at Harry’s knit antlers after he releases you. “He’s never taking this off.” 

“He means it.” Lily sends her husband a look as fond as it is weary as she hugs you. “I’ll probably have to bathe Harry when James is asleep so he doesn’t catch him without it.” 

Your face is feeling hot again. “I’m glad you like it,” you say with a little shrug, but your friends are used to your shyness and only smile and wave on their way out. 

And then the door shuts, and you and Remus are left alone in the quiet. 

“Are you tired?” he asks you, moving back into the living room. Lily had sneakily taken care of a good deal of the cleanup, but there’s still a few half-empty glasses of eggnog strewn about which Remus begins gathering. 

“Not really,” you answer honestly, beating him to the sink and forcing him to hand you the glasses to wash. “Are you?”

“No,” he agrees, and the look he shoots you has to be the gentlest form malice has ever taken as he takes up the dish towel and stations himself beside you. “Fancy a film?”

“Mmm, a Christmas film?”

“Obviously.” 

The dishes are finished quickly thanks to Lily’s interference, and Remus makes you some hot cocoa while you scroll through movies, calling out possibilities. The only conflict between you is your equal complaisance to whatever the other prefers, and you eventually settle on the first one you’d seen just to put an end to it. You take your cocoa gladly when Remus passes it to you, blowing gently while he settles a blanket over the both of you, your knees curled towards him and his one leg crossed over the other angling him towards you. 

The first few minutes of the film are spent in that contented quietude that the two of you so often fall into when you’re alone together, but then Remus asks you, “What is it?”

You look over at him. “Hm?”

“You’re frowning.”

“Oh.” You laugh. “I’m just thinking about snow.” 

His lips quirk. “It is kind of the bane of your existence tonight, isn’t it?”

“No.” You smile down at your hands, hoping it's not obvious how not unpleasant you find your circumstances at the moment. “That’s not it. I was thinking, I kind of hate how it always has to snow in these movies. It makes any Christmas where it doesn’t snow feel like it’s not up to par. Or not quintessential enough, or something.”

“Mmm, I see.” Remus looks back to the screen, considering. “Does that make this your quintessential Christmas, then? Are we living up to the movie standard?”

You watch him while he watches the TV, blue light cast over his handsome features. “I guess so,” you say.

The longer you sit there, the closer you get. You blame it on the late hour, your bodies relaxing towards each other on the couch. Remus’ arm brushes yours when he lifts his mug for a sip, and your knees dig into his thigh under the blanket. Soon you’ve drooped enough that you’re leaning nearly entirely against him. You don’t notice until Remus puts an arm around you to encourage your head to his shoulder. You tense but don’t sit up, and eventually his head comes to rest atop yours. 

“Are you crying?” he murmurs during one scene near the end. 

Your reply is equally soft, not wanting to jostle either Remus’ head or his shoulder with your speech movements. “I really like this part.” 

“You know how it ends. It’s going to be okay.” 

“I know.” You sniffle, bringing a hand up to wipe your face now that you’ve been caught. “I know it is. It’s just really profound.” 

“Sure it is.”

“It’s the spirit of Christmas, Remus. Goodwill to man.” 

“Okay.” He rubs your shoulder, and you pretend not to feel his shaking with quiet laughter. “Okay, I agree with you.” 

And awhile later: “You’re tired,” he accuses.

You hum a denial.

“Sweetheart” —your stomach flutters, and there’s a jolt somewhere behind your ribcage; you ignore it— “you’re practically falling asleep right here.”

“Are you tired?” 

He shifts slightly, stubble tickling your forehead. “No. But you are.” 

“I want to finish the movie.” 

He seems to debate this for a moment, then his shoulder relaxes beneath you. “Alright.” 

The credits start, and neither of you move. 

You let your head slump more heavily onto his shoulder. “Your place really does look lovely. Thanks for having me.”

“Of course, love.” You can feel his smile squish up against the top of your head. “Would you go so far as to say my hosting measures up to James’?”

You chuckle, gesturing to yourself. “I’d say you’ve gone above and beyond, for sure.” 

Remus laughs too. “Perfect. Tell him so, would you?”

You’re going to agree when a great yawn takes you. You keep it quiet, but there’s no avoiding the way your chin digs into Remus’ shoulder, your shoulders rising with the prolonged inhale. He moves away from you. 

“Ready for bed?” He smiles down at you as you run a knuckle under your eyes, collecting tears from your lashes. 

You shrug an admittance. “Sort of. But I don’t want to kick you out of your own living room if you’re not tired yet.”

“No, I’m pretty wiped too,” he says. “Anyway, I’m the one kicking you out. You’re staying in my room.” 

You had a feeling he would say something like that. You grab a throw pillow, getting situated with your head near the armrest. “No, I’m not.” 

His laugh is disbelieving. “Yeah, you are. Come on, you’re my guest. I’m not letting you sleep on the couch.” 

You tug the blanket off his lap, curling up with your pillow stubbornly. “I’m not going to steal your bed. You’ve already done so much. You’ve helped me try gingerbread cookies and given me nice mittens and hosted an amazing Christmas. Let me sleep on your couch, please.” 

“While I appreciate all that,” he says, “no.” 

“Remus.” You’re near pleading at this point. “Your back will hurt.”

“Your back will hurt.” 

“Not as badly as yours.” You give him a hard look. “I’m not taking your bed.” 

There’s a brief silence, terser than your usual ones but no more awkward for it. You stare each other down. 

“Right,” Remus says, reclaiming the remote from where he’d set it on the coffee table. “I suppose we’d better start another movie, then.”

“Remus, come on.” You sit up, giving his shoulder a gentle nudge. “You’ve just said you’re tired. Go to bed, please.”

The TV flickers back on. “I’m not leaving this couch.” 

“Well, neither am I,” you laugh, completely serious. 

He rolls his eyes, then snuggles up to you under the blanket. You take this as a sign that he’s not really very cross with you. “You’re much more argumentative than usual tonight, you know that?”

You huff, laying your head back on his shoulder. “I could say the same about you.” 

“True, but I know I’ll win out in the end.” 

“You can think that if you like.” 

“Want to watch this one next?”

“Sure.”

❆ ❆ ❆

Remus watches as your eyes drift closed, then twitch back open, over and over again. He thinks his bony shoulder is the only thing keeping you from falling over the precipice of sleep. If he were James Potter, he’d simply pick you up with ease and carry you to his bed, but Remus can’t say he’s entirely sorry for this extra time with you, even if neither of you are awake enough to make much conversation.

Silly as it sounds, he enjoys just sitting here with you nearly as much as talking. Your cheek squished into his shoulder, your legs curled up atop his, you’re warm and weighty against him. 

He should have known it would be a hopeless endeavor trying to get you to agree to take the bed. You’re a gentle thing by nature, but stubborn in your selflessness. Even if you had gone, Remus knows he wouldn’t have slept all night anyway, too preoccupied with thoughts of you all wrapped up in his sheets, your face pressed to his pillow, getting your shampoo-smell on the pillowcase. He doesn’t know if it smells like him (does he have a smell?), but he would have wondered all night if it does, if you were noticing. 

Your head nearly rolls off his shoulder, and a pitying sound escapes Remus when you jerk awake to set it right. He lets his head rest on yours so it doesn’t happen again. Your eyelids droop closed almost immediately, and Remus begins dragging his thumb over your shoulder blade, a nice, slow back-and-forth. You’re quiet for a long while. 

“Are you trying to put me to sleep?” you murmur, words all sloshed together. 

It’s a conscious effort not to let his thumb slow. “No,” he says. 

You hum. 

“Unless you mean it’s working.” 

Another long silence. “It’s not,” you reply, head growing heavier on his shoulder.  

He chuckles. “Come on, sweetheart. Let’s get you to bed, hm?” 

“You go to bed,” you mumble, and if he thought you were capable of it he’d say there was some bitterness lining your words. 

He sighs. “You’re too nice for your own good,” he tells you. 

“No,” you reply, softly, plainly, like it’s a fact, “that’s you.” 

He picks his head up off of yours to see your face. “Yeah?” 

“Mhm.” Your eyes are closed. You don’t know he’s looking. Your face is wholly relaxed, no hint of pretense about you. “You’re the best I know.” 

Something warm and wheedling works its way through Remus’ ribs to the soft gooey core of him. “Well,” he tells you honestly, “you’re the best I know.”

You seem unconcerned. “Another impasse for us.” 

He actually laughs at that, instantly guilty when it jostles you on his shoulder and your eyelids peel apart. He can’t regret it, though, when you look at him the way you do. You’re glowing in the light coming off the tree, soft and warm and lovely, and yet you’re looking at him like he’s the only place your eyes want to go. Like it’s the most natural thing in the world. 

You come gradually more awake, eyebrows twitching towards each other just slightly. “Remus,” you murmur, and he finally does what he’s been wanting to since you’d shown up at his door hours ago. He kisses you. 

Your lips are pliable, parting for his almost instantly, like you’d been waiting. His hand coasts from your shoulder to cup the back of your head, keeping you close as your nose slides against his. You both all but fall back onto the bed you’d made yourself on the couch. He’s careful not to put too much of his weight on you, but when his tongue brushes across the inside of your lip and you inhale, he draws back. 

“I...” He pants into the space between you. “Sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t—”

You make a sound that’s half hum, half whine, and bump your chin up into his. 

Remus loses himself again with frightening quickness. It’s even better now that you seem more sure, your mouth asking, coaxing against his. You taste like gingerbread. An low, embarrassing sound pries free from the back of his throat when you wind your fingers into the hair at his nape, and he slips his free hand beneath your back, getting as close to you as he can. Your legs make room for him automatically, knees tipping open so he can slot between them.

“Do you—” you breathe when his attentions move downward, tilting your head to the side to offer access as he mouths at the skin just under your jaw. “Do you want this?” 

The word leaves him in a soft exhale, muffled against your skin. “Yes.”

You swallow. He feels the movement in your throat. “Are you sure?”

His eyelashes brush your jaw as his kisses slow, become more tender, more intentional. “Lovely girl,” he murmurs. “You’re silly, you know that?” His mouth meanders it’s way over to your pulse, getting stuck there and sucking at your skin lazily. “I mean, you’re smart.” The words are all mushed up against you. Noticeably amused. Remus quit the eggnog hours ago, yet he feels half drunk. “You’re really smart, honey, but you can be so oblivious sometimes.” 

You don’t respond, and as much as he loves the sound of your voice, he’s hoping your silence is in his favor right now. He wants you wrapped up in him, wants to engross you so completely you forget how to form your lips around speech. 

“Do you want to move to my room?” 

You take a breath. Fuck, even the sound of you breathing is nearly enough to undo him. He moves back to your mouth as if to intercept it, nipping at your lower lip. 

“Is this a ploy to get me off the couch?” 

“You’re relentless.”

Your lips curve against his, and he mirrors them without thinking. You stay quiet.

“Fine. I promise it’s not, okay?” 

Your laugh is fizzy like champagne, and it warms Remus’ chest like it too. “Okay,” you say in that lovely voice. “Okay, let’s go.” 

❆ ❆ ❆

You’d always thought Remus was all softness. He’s made up of soft looks, soft colors, and hair that you can now confirm is soft as dandelion fluff. But this night has defied your expectations in a thousand ways. And your Remus, soft, gentle, kindhearted Remus, is scraping at your throat with his teeth. 

You have to suck your lip between your teeth to keep from making a humiliatingly desperate sound when he passes his tongue over his work, another crescent moon that’s sure to be purple by morning. Your hands are beseeching in his dandelion fluff hair, keeping him close while his hands are busy lower, one gripping the fat of your hip while the other drags tantalizingly slow up and down your side. He’s kissing you like you have all the time in the world, sometimes rough but no more urgent for it, and you’re breathy and molten and useless beneath him. 

You’re brimming with adoration and something else too. Something that you think you could almost identify—you’ve felt it before, but never like this. 

“What do you want to do?” There’s a raspy quality to his voice that would send you to your knees if he hadn’t already taken them out from under you. He dots leisurely, open-mouthed kisses up the column of your throat, soothing over spots he’s already nipped and sucked into oblivion. Your head feels fuzzy. “Sweetheart?” 

Christ, is he trying to send you into cardiac arrest? Remus doesn’t stop kissing you even at your silence, finding your lip still held between your teeth and encouraging it free with his own. You try to remember what he’d ask you. What do you want to do? You have no idea. Where would you even start? You want him to keep talking to you in that raspy voice, that’s for sure. You want…you want to keep kissing him, to know what his hands would do if you let them beneath your clothes. You want to keep investigating that warm feeling in your gut. See where it takes you. 

Remus’ kisses slow, then stop. He pulls back to look at you. In the dim street light coming in through the window, you wonder what he sees. “You alright?” His voice is soft, gentle, saying it’s okay if you’re not without saying it. 

You take a breath. It shakes a little on the way out, but you don’t think he can tell. “Yeah, I’m good. Just nervous. But not in a bad way.” Nervous-happy. 

“Don’t be,” he implores, lips brushing your cheek. “It’s only me.”

Exactly, you think. It’s you. 

“What do you want to do?” You turn his own question back on him. 

His smile is tinged with bashfulness. “I mean, whatever you’re alright with.” There’s a tentative quietness to his voice. “Have you…”

If it were possible for you to get any warmer, embarrassment would do it. “No,” you say, shrinking away from him though there’s nowhere to go. Whatever the end to that question might be, the answer is no. 

“That’s okay,” he says quickly, dropping another kiss on the corner of your mouth like a cure-all remedy. “That’s okay, you just tell me if you want to stop, yeah? If you don’t like something, or you want to slow down—anything at all, you let me know.” He kisses you again, further up on your burning cheek. “Okay?” 

You swallow. “Okay.” 

“Don’t be nervous.” He says it like a promise, hand stroking your side again as if to soothe you. His lips find your shoulder, nosing the fabric of your sleeve. “Can I take this off, lovely?” 

You nod, words all stoppered up in your throat, then realize he can’t see you and do it yourself. He has to pause as it comes off, taking the opportunity to do away with his own sweater, tossing it on the floor beside the bed. You do the same, and your bra quickly follows. You’d always thought (largely influenced, admittedly, by trashy novels) that this was the part where the guy stops what he’s doing and openly oggles the shirtless woman in front of him, but Remus has seen tits before and wastes no time in getting his mouth back on yours, pressing you into the mattress. His skin is as heated as yours, the areas where you touch deliciously warm despite the cold still whipping past his bedroom window. You allow yourself one sweeping, appreciative pass over the muscles on Remus’ back before your hands go down to your bottoms, shimmying them down your legs. A long-fingered hand finds the exposed skin of your thigh and kneads reverently. You swallow Remus’ groan, and he kisses you more deeply, long, savoring passes of his tongue along the inside of your mouth until his lips move downward. 

One hand stays at your hip while the other strokes up and down your thigh, spit cooling in a path down your stomach. You try to relax as he passes your navel, but the anticipation is hard to shake. You’re nearly trembling when he kneels between your legs, kissing the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. 

“Is this okay?” he murmurs. 

It’s all you can do to nod, gasping when his teeth drag over one of the stretch marks there. You clutch at the sheets above your head like a lifeline. 

“We can stop anytime you want.” 

You inhale raggedly. “No,” you manage. Your breathlessness is obvious in the quiet room. “I want—I want to keep going.” You pause. “Do you?”

You can hear the smile in his voice. “Yeah, love, that sounds good to me.” 

Good, you’re about to say, but Remus’ next kiss lands on your slit, and your voice withers and dies in your throat. He uses a hand to push one of your legs open further while bringing the other over his shoulder, spreading you open. His breath fans hot over your cunt.

You’re writhing at the first broad stroke of his tongue, and he wraps his fingers around the outside of your thigh, keeping you still while placating you at the same time. 

Remus takes his time, lapping experimentally at your entrance before making his way upwards. You gasp as his tongue skims over your clit, burrowing your hand in his hair before hesitating. 

“Is this okay?” you ask. 

His hummed assent has you tightening your grasp. He brushes over your clit one more time, and when this gets a similar reaction from you, begins sucking on it gently. You’re panting, and Remus has to move his grip to your hip to hold you in place, squeezing indulgently at the fat there while he narrows in on what you like. Before long you’re trembling all over, grasping feebly at his hair as you squeeze your eyes shut against the odd sort of bliss that’s taking you under. 

“Remus,” you breathe, and it’s a miracle that he hears you but he does, raising his head with a lewd suctioning sound. 

He looks at you questioningly with eyes almost all pupil. 

“Come here,” you plead. 

He obeys, crawling back up you to peck at your bitten lips. “Doing alright?” he asks you.

“Yeah,” you promise, cupping his head in one hand and wrapping your leg over the back of his as if to prevent him from leaving. “Just wanted to kiss you.” 

You feel him smile against your lips. He slots his mouth over yours, and you dedicate yourself to his top lip. He tastes like sex, braver now as he explores your mouth. He drags your bottom lip between his teeth, and you make a high, breathy sound. His grip on you tightens. 

“Do you think—can we—”

He hesitates, kissing softly at the corner of your lips. “Are you sure?” 

“I want to. Do you?” 

Remus actually laughs, muffling the sound against your cheek. “Yeah, I fucking want to. I’ve wanted to forever.” 

You can’t think about that. Think about that and you’ll fall to pieces. 

He noses affectionately at the underside of your jaw, slipping down you once again to stand at the end of the bed. He steps out of his pants and grabs a condom from the drawer of his nightstand. “You’ll tell me if I do anything you don’t like, yeah?” 

“Mhm,” you promise, anticipation coiling up snugly with that other thing in your stomach. They don’t feel all that distinct from one another. 

“Alright,” he says, palm slipping under your thigh. “Can I lift this up, love?” 

You nod, and he grasps the soft underside of your knee, bringing your leg up to your stomach as he lines up. You gasp as he pushes in slowly, watching your face to make sure you’re doing okay. You’re already slick and worked open from his ministrations, and it’s still a bit shocking. His thumb strokes beside your knee as your walls adjust to the size of him. “How’s that feel?” 

“Good,” you say honestly. There’s a note of desperation to your voice. “I can—more, please.” 

He’s quick to accommodate you, pushing deeper as he folds himself over you to recapture your lips. Your breaths shallow. His free hand moves to your breast, kneading gently at the soft flesh. He gives it a firm squeeze at the same time as he moves inside you, and you nearly bite Remus’ lip off, a half-suppressed keening sound escaping you. 

“So good,” he mumbles. “You’re doing so good, sweetheart. Taking it so well.” He lifts his head, kissing your temple. “Think you can handle a bit more?” 

Your response is barely more than breath, but he catches the affirmation, pressing another firm kiss to your forehead before he bottoms out inside you. Your head lolls back, fuzzy with the strange pain and even stranger pleasure. Remus tightens his grip on your leg to keep it up, dotting kisses down the side of your face. 

“Good girl,” he says hoarsely. “Still doing okay, lovely?” 

“Yeah,” you say, somewhat dizzy. “Remus, it feels so good.” 

“Good,” he croons. “It should feel good, love. Ready for me to move?”

“Mhm.”

He pulls out slowly, dragging against your sensitive walls. He starts mouthing at your neck again before he pushes back inside you, filling you up all over again. A slew of expletives roll out of your mouth, unbidden and entirely unlike you, as Remus begins pumping your breast again, the rhythm matching that of his thrusts. He sucks the flesh of your neck between his teeth, and you bite down hard on your lower lip to repress what promises to be a high-pitched and deeply mortifying sound. 

Remus praises you amply, soft kisses and reverent touches and a raspy “Fuck, sweetheart, just like that.” Your head floats or swims or both, your body tensed all over and yet completely plaint beneath Remus’ hands. He moves back to your mouth, discovering your bottom lip held captive between your teeth. 

“Come on, don’t do that,” he chides, easing it free with gentle kisses. “Let me hear you, bet you sound so pretty.” 

The Welsh accent that’s grown faint after years of living away from home is emerging now, as is the crude vocabulary it's tied to in memory, a host of barely comprehensible profanities spewing from Remus’ lips when you clench on him again. His grip tightens on your tit, and a moan tears from the back of your throat. 

“That’s it,” he praises, head dipping to kiss the soft spot he’s found under your ear. “There you are, lovely girl.” 

The coil in your core grows impossibly tighter, your thighs quivering as you approach a peak you’ve never known before. Remus feels it, cooing softly even as he drives into you harder.

“You gonna cum, sweetheart?” You nod dazedly. “Good, good, just let it happen, I’ve got you.” 

“Come here,” you demand again, and he wastes no time in obliging you. He kisses your lips sore as you dig your nails into his shoulders, pulling his body flush against yours, the feeling inside you growing so great you don’t know where to put it, don’t know if you can contain it. You can’t remember ever feeling this close to someone, Remus’ touch the only thing keeping you from hurtling off some unknown precipice.

“Let go,” he urges, and you do. You trust him to catch you. 

It’s bliss like you’ve never known. You cry out, and Remus’ hand slides down from your breast to spread wide and flat against your ribs. Steadying. He kisses soothingly at your jaw as you gasp and pant your way back to him, grip slackening on his shoulders. 

“Good girl,” he murmurs, though you really haven’t done much at all. 

“Are you—” You swallow, choking on the emotion that’s risen unbidden in your throat. “Are you close?” 

Remus smiles, coming back to your lips like he can’t help himself. He pecks you once, twice. “Sweetheart, I’m more than close. I’ve barely been holding myself together since you kissed me.” 

Well, he’d actually kissed you, but you’ll take the compliment anyway. 

“Do you think you’ll be alright if I move again?” he asks. “It’s okay if not.” 

“You can,” you say certainly, leaning up on your elbows to see him better. “Is there…anything I can do to help?”

The smile fades from his face, leaving something far more tender in its wake. “Just, keep looking at me like that?” He says it almost like he’s embarrassed, voice quiet with supplication. 

You want to tell him you’d never needed asking to look at him, but you don’t, keeping your eyes on his obediently as he pumps into you. He really must have been close, because he’s cursing again not long after, accent twisting his syllables with a gruff pleasure. Your walls contract at the movement, still sensitive, and that’s all it takes. Remus digs his fingers into your waist and makes sounds you’re sure you’ll dream about, panting, breathy moans you sit up to smother against your lips. He follows you back down onto the mattress, mouth slotted against your own. You hold him to you until his breaths even and his grip on you loosens. 

“Was that alright?” he asks, some of the rasp still lingering in his voice. 

You can’t help the laugh that escapes you, dizzy with affection. “Yeah, it was good,” you promise him. Understatement of the year. “Really good, Rem.” 

“Good,” he echoes, lips brushing the skin under your eye. You don’t know how you know, but you can feel the amusement building in him just before he asks, “Tired yet?”

You guffaw. The force of it jostles him on top of you, and his lips curve against your cheek. “A little bit, yeah.” Actually, you hadn’t realized how exhausting sex would be. If it didn’t mean having to take your eyes off Remus, you’d have closed them and passed out by now. 

“Good,” he says again, hands sliding down your waist as he moves to stand again. You make a small sound as he shifts, and Remus shushes you, slipping out from inside you. You watch fascinatedly as he removes the condom, sticky with cum. He tosses it in the wastebasket under his desk and walks away from you.

“Hey,” you protest. “You’d better not be sneaking off to sleep on the couch.” 

His chuckle echoes in the bathroom, followed by the sound of a cabinet opening. “So mistrustful,” he says when he comes back in with a damp towel. “What’ve I done to arouse such suspicion?” 

Your fuzzy brain gets stuck on the word arouse in his teasing tone, and it takes you a second to answer. “Well, I’m here and a blink away from falling asleep, so you tell me.” 

“Fair enough.” He rolls his eyes good-naturedly, taking your thigh in his grasp to move it aside. “Alright if I clean you up, love?” 

You startle, coming up on your elbows to see where Remus is holding the towel between your legs. “I didn’t realize it’d be so messy,” you admit. “You don’t have to, though, I can do it myself.” 

“I don’t mind,” he says, thumb soothing over your knee. “S’my mess anyway.” He seems to have not quite agreed with himself to say that last part aloud, a blush spreading over his cheeks. 

“Sure,” you say, mostly to alleviate his embarrassment. You let your weight lean more heavily on your elbows, trying your best to look relaxed. “Sure, if you’re alright with it.” 

“Might be a bit sensitive,” he warns. You’d guessed as much, but it's worth it for all the praises he rains down upon you as he works, finishing with a kiss to the side of your knee. 

You miss him humiliatingly when he goes to the bathroom again to discard the towel. It’s all you can do not to reach for him when he comes back, but luckily Remus reads your mind anyway, slipping under the covers and tugging you to him until his lips rest against your forehead. 

“That was really great,” you tell him. 

“I thought so too.” 

“You’ll stay here, right?” 

A low laugh. “Yeah, sweetheart. I’m staying here.” 

❆ ❆ ❆

Remus hasn’t known anyone to sleep in longer than Sirius, but you seem to be vying for his title. The sun has long since passed above his windows when Remus wakes, and still he has time to spend idle hours marveling at the closeness of you. His nose is cold above the covers, but everywhere your bodies are pressed together is warm, your palm flat against his chest and one of your legs wormed between his own. Your fingers twitch as you dream. 

It has to be early afternoon by the time he rises, slipping his hand carefully from beneath you and plodding into the kitchen. The blanket is still on the couch where you left it, throw pillow creased with your indentation. Your mugs are discarded on the coffee table with globs of once-hot cocoa stuck to the bottom. Bright light refracts off the snow outside and into his kitchen, making everything look shiny new. 

Remus starts the kettle first, letting that warm up while he rifles through the cabinets for his big mixing bowl and starts whisking together ingredients. A bird chirps outside as the kettle gurgles, and somehow the peace of Remus’ kitchen feels more complete knowing that you’re sleeping just down the hall. 

Until, apparently, you’re not. Your footsteps are so silent he startles when you appear, still blinking yourself awake as you cross your arms over the sweater you’ve thrown on with your bottoms from the night before. Remus’ sweater. And Remus had thought he’d come to terms with the idea of you here, in his apartment like the best Christmas gift of all time, but apparently not, because his heart stutters and stops at the sight of you. 

He’d thought you’d looked adorable in the soft glow of the Christmas lights the night before, and again tucked into his sheets this morning, but you’re almost ethereal now. Sunlight bathes the planes of your face and gleams off your hair, making you appear almost like you’re emanating the bright light rather than standing in it. You smile at him, seraphim. 

“Morning. Sorry I didn’t ask,” you say, fingering the hem of Remus’ sweater. “I was cold and you were gone, I hope you don’t mind.” 

Mind? Remus can’t even think. 

“Course not,” he manages, but just barely. It’s more an exhale than a statement. “Did you sleep alright?” 

“Really well,” you say. His sleeves cover your fingers as you rest your elbows on the counter, and your gaze has gone a bit shy again, but Remus can hardly blame you. You both seemed to have experienced unusual nerve the night before. He only hopes you aren’t regretting your part in it. And now that he’s had some time to think, he hopes even more that you’d truly wanted it in the first place. “Did you?” 

“Yeah, thanks.”

You lean a bit closer in a way that he doubts either of you are even slightly unaware of, peering into the mixing bowl. “What’re you making?” 

“I’m experimenting,” he says, though he wishes now he weren’t. He wanted to make you something good, but his confidence in his adaptation is waning now that you’re in the room. He should have gone with something basic, tried-and-true. “Or, I’m attempting. Gingerbread pancakes?” 

His voice crawls up into a question, as if he really has no idea what it is he’s trying to make (maybe that’s closer to the truth), but Remus’ regrets vanish instantly at the genuine elation that lights your expression. 

“Really?” 

A laugh startles out of him, giddy. “Yeah, does that sound alright?” 

“More than alright,” you declare with full seriousness, seating yourself at the bar counter. “That sounds amazing, Rem, thank you. Merlin, I owe you so big for all of this.” 

“I think you’ve more than made it up to me.” It slips out without permission, Remus too high on the flow of your conversation to filter the words through his brain before they reach his mouth. His loathsome, traitorous mouth. “I mean, I’m sorry—fuck, that sounds awful—I only meant that I’ve had a really good time with you here. I’m glad you stayed.” 

You flush horribly, and Remus doesn’t expect he’s faring much better. 

“Not that I’m only glad because of—or, I’m always glad to have you. As a friend, too.” 

There’s a tiny pinch in your features, gone before he can diagnose it. Somehow, you seem even more uncomfortable. “Right.” You give him a thin smile. It’s a hearty attempt, but you’re too genuine a soul to fake it. Remus hates himself for it. “As a friend.” 

They’re his own words, put hearing them from your mouth and with that piss-poor smile feels like having a fire poker jammed between his ribs. 

With his track record this morning, he really should be taking a vow of silence, but he can’t seem to stop himself. “Just friends, then?” Hesitance makes his voice sound quiet even in the silent kitchen. He looks down, stirring the batter to avoid watching the answer take form on your face. 

“I mean,” your tone is a match to his, “is that what you want?” 

A short, soft laugh escapes him. “I think I made what I want fairly clear last night.” 

There’s a short silence. “I thought I did too.” 

It’s a conscious effort to keep stirring. Had you? Remus had kissed you, he’d brought you to his room, he’d been the one to ask if you wanted to do more. And you’d been game for it all, sure, but he can’t help but wonder if you were just going along with it. If maybe you’d thought it was just a fuck, something he’d come up with to pass the time while you were both snowed in, no strings attached. Remus could understand that. He could disentangle the strings from last night if it’s what you want. But he’s liked you for years. He could love you oh so easily. He’s practically teetering on the edge of it already, though you’ve only been friends all this time. 

Remus spoons some batter into a waiting pan on the stove. He’s debating asking what exactly it is that you thought you’d made clear when you speak again. 

“I understand if it’s too much for you.” Your voice is shy. He looks up, and your shoulders are hunched as if you’re trying to hide yourself. You shrink further under his gaze. “We can stay just friends if it’s…if that’s what you want. I want whatever’s easier for you.” Your next words are so impossibly soft, Remus has to strain to hear them over the low sizzling of the pancake batter. “I really want you to stay in my life.” 

“What?” It’s a staccato, loud enough that it surprises you both, Remus stepping toward you while you nearly flinch back. “Sorry.” His hand goes up, reaching into the space between you as if he can soothe you from feet away. He lowers his volume. “Sorry, sweetheart, I just—I didn’t realize that was even on the table. I would never want to not be in your life.” 

“I just mean that I don’t want to make things weird for you, or for everyone else—”

“Hey.” He manages to cross the distance this time, his hand landing on your wrist atop the counter. Remus isn’t sure why he needs it there so desperately, but he suddenly feels much better. “There is nothing that could make any of us not want to be friends with you. I can speak for everyone in that regard. Okay?” 

You look at him consideringly for a moment. Remus holds your stare, letting you see his certainty. “Okay,” you echo, sounding unsure. He’ll deal with that later, he decides.

“Okay,” he says once more, and it’d almost be firm if it weren’t so gentled by the tenderness he can never seem to get rid of around you. Even so, what he says next doesn’t sound particularly tender. It’s not very kind to you, he knows, but Remus is selfish, and he feels (selfishly) like he’s done his part already. He tries to phrase it as nicely as he can. “Can you tell me what it is that you want, please?” 

You try to shrink again, and Remus’ grip tightens on your wrist instinctually as if to keep you from running off. He swipes his thumb over your skin apologetically. “Remus, come on.” You sound almost upset, but it’s hard to tell with your voice so quiet. “I know I’m not that good at—at covering myself up. I must have hearts in my eyes half the time I look at you.” 

Remus would give a month’s rent to know what you can see in his eyes right now. Even if he’d been hoping for an answer something like that, he hadn’t expected it. And for you to act like it’s been obvious…he does his best to think back. 

You’ve always been a shy thing. It had taken James months to get you to be remotely yourself around them, and though you’d seemed to warm to Remus first, you’d always retained some of your bashfulness when you were alone together. He’d chalked it up to the result of two people, quiet by nature, with no wildly extroverted James or Sirius or Lily to run interference. 

You’ve always been kind to him, but you’re kind to everyone. How is anyone supposed to suspect favoritism from a soul as indiscriminately sweet as yours? 

He recalls your voice last night, thin and reedy and fragile as the cattails that had bordered the river behind his house as a kid. Wary of getting swept along by the current, but willing to go if Remus would take you. Do you want this?

He’d called you oblivious for asking. How could you wonder, when he’d been the one to kiss you and has probably been looking like he wanted to for years? He’s certainly been thinking about it for as long. But perhaps your obliviousness is another congruity between the two of you. 

So much for opposites attract. 

“I think I’m an idiot,” he says, and mercifully, a smile far more real than the last sneaks onto your face. 

“You are not,” you reply, ever forgiving. 

“Don’t tell Sirius,” he warns, “but I really think I am.” His voice drops into a more earnest register. “I had no idea, love, I’m sorry. Maybe you’re a better actress than you thought. But if you don’t want to be friends, I don’t want to either.” Remus hesitates. “Or, I always want to be your friend, just—”

“Remus?” 

Finally. Someone needs to stop him. “Yeah?” 

“Your pancake…”

He turns to find a thin spire of smoke rising from the pan. “Oh, fuck.” He grabs a spatula and quickly flips the pancake, but there’s no saving it. The bottom side is completely blackened. It’s inedible. “Sorry, I…I’m not sure I have enough batter for much more.” 

“It’s fine.” There’s laughter in your tone, and that’s more than enough to make up for it. “It was a really sweet thought, that’s what matters anyway.” 

Remus turns to find you’ve slipped out of your seat and are standing uncertainly on the threshold of the kitchen. His heart warms with incandescent, aching fondness. 

“Would you come here?” he asks. 

You comply with an eagerness he wonders he’s never noticed before, stepping forward to let him fold you into his arms. Your wrists cross over his mid back and the tip of his nose mushes into your hair as he touches his lips to the top of your head. He can’t believe he could have been holding you like this all along if only he hadn’t been so thick. He supposes he’ll have to make the most of it now. 

“Let’s do away with asking about want, does that sound alright?” He rubs lightly between your shoulder blades, wonders if you like the feel of his breath on your scalp. “How about you tell me if anything comes up that you don’t want, and I’ll do the same.”

“Yeah.” Remus knows he likes the feel of your voice on his skin, chin moving against his chest. “Yeah, that sounds good.” 

“Good.” He smiles, pressing another kiss to your head. “Okay, should we venture out to find something for breakfast? Or lunch, I suppose it is by now.” 

You ease out of his arms. “I really should go home.” There’s an apology already embedded in your tone, but you add one anyway. “Sorry, but my cat’s been there all night by herself, so…”

“Right.” Remus ignores the dull throb behind his sternum, which is really a bit dramatic. He’ll see you soon, surely. “Yeah, that makes sense. Think you’ll be able to drive?” 

“I mean, I looked outside.” You shrug, backing towards where you’d hung your coat the night before. “The roads here are cleared, which I hope means they’ve gotten to most of them already.” 

“That’s good,” he says, though he feels the opposite. Your poor cat, he’s pitted completely against her now. She’s done nothing to deserve the resentment he’s directing at her, almost petulant in his malcontent. “Good, good.” 

You’re both silent as you put on your shoes, your scarf. It’s not unusual for the two of you, but it lacks its usual easy contentedness. Your eyes flit up as you pull on your new gloves, a silent thanks in them that you know Remus won’t let you voice aloud again. Despite the upset in his chest, he smiles. 

“I…listen, I have to go home,” you tell him, looking down as you wriggle your fingers more snugly into the gloves. “I have to feed my cat. But that doesn’t necessarily mean I want to…leave.” 

Remus can’t see how that changes anything, but he recognizes it for the olive branch it is. You’re both so uncertain, and you’re trying to alleviate his worries about what you leaving right now means. He can return the favor. 

“I don’t want you to leave either,” he says, “but I get it. She seems important to you, best to keep her well.” 

“Exactly.” You smile, relieved. “But I mean, if you’re not doing anything, you could come meet her? We could pick up breakfast on the way. Or I could make you something there.” 

Remus can’t believe his luck. And, once again, his stupidity in not getting there himself. Why is it that all of a sudden, everything that has to do with you seems so absurdly difficult? At least one of you is thinking clearly. 

“Yeah, that would be fantastic.” He’s grinning hugely, totally unlike him but liking it very much. “Let me grab my coat.” 

“Wait.” There’s a newly familiar breathless quality to your voice, and when Remus turns you’re already coming forward to meet him. Your palm slides against the stubble along his jaw as you stretch your neck, kissing him sweetly on the lips. “There,” you say, timidity shrouded beneath a good layer of happiness, “now we’re even.” 

Remus laughs, loud and startled. He wants to be generous with you, he really does, but he still thinks you’re far from even. “I’m not sure about that, sweetheart,” he says warmly, pressing a brief kiss to the corner of your eyebrow, “but we'll get there.” 

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[scuderiahoney]

Tangerine

Oscar Piastri x reader

Masterlist // Part 1 // Part 1.5 // Part 2

Summary: You’re definitely not an insomniac. But Oscar keeps finding you awake at all hours, and he’s starting to get worried. Or: I wrote this while actually being unable to sleep, passed out for 3 hours, woke up and finished it. So… here you go, I guess?

Word Count: 6.8k

Warnings: insomnia, anxiety/mild paranoia?, alcohol, limited knowledge of the actual structure of the MTC and the corporate structure of McLaren in general, a poorly researched night in Tokyo

The MTC lobby is empty, besides you. The lights are half turned off, motion sensors that have gone hours without detecting anything. You’ve stuck to your table in the corner. It’s quiet, just how you like it.

You look up from your notebook after who knows how long, blinking your weary eyes. Outside, the floodlights reflect off the inky black lake. There’s a car, pulling up in the drop off area outside the front doors. It’s Oscar, you think, his car one of a few that are easily recognizable. Sure enough, it’s confirmed when he climbs out of the driver’s side door. He leaves it running as he makes his way up to the door.

Oscar scans his pass and the doors swing open, followed by all of the lights in the lobby flickering on. You squint, fighting the urge to shield your eyes from the harsh lighting. Oscar is rushing through the lobby, a man on a mission, but he skids to a stop about halfway across the shiny tiled floor.

He turns, slowly, and makes eye contact with you. “Jesus, you scared the shit out of me.”

You hold back a laugh, thinking that might be a little mean, all things considered. “What are you doing here?”

He sighs, hands hanging at his sides. “I forgot my phone charger, and my laptop, and…” he pauses, frowning at you. “What are you doing here?”

You raise your brows right back. “Working?”

You watch his eyes flicker across your setup. You’re still in the same McLaren sweatshirt you’d been wearing when you saw him that morning. Your hair is piled atop your head. Your laptop sits open in front of you, the only source of light before Oscar burst through the doors. There are papers and notebooks scattered on the tabletop. Your pen is missing- you selfishly hope that as he scours your table, he’ll spot it.

“You got here at 8am,” he says, bewildered. “It’s almost midnight. That’s almost 16 hours.”

He says nothing about the pen. Why would he? He doesn’t know it’s missing. Logically, it must be here somewhere, probably under a paper or clipped to a notebook, but you’ve given up.

“Yes,” you answer, smirking. “You’re great at math, Oscar.”

He rolls his eyes. “Shouldn’t you be, I don’t know, home? Sleeping?”

You shrug. “I took breaks. It’s not like I’ve been working all day straight.”

You’re not lying. You’d taken a good, long lunch break, and an afternoon walk around the grounds. You’ve gotten up to stretch a couple times, made runs to the break room for coffee. You hope he doesn’t see straight through it, though. Hope he can’t see the dark circles under your eyes, the paleness of your skin, the exhaustion weighing your shoulders.

It’s not that you weren’t tired. You just knew you wouldn’t be able to sleep. One of those days. So instead, you had decided to be productive. Which had led to this- you in the lobby of your office building, hunched over a laptop. Oscar, the driver whose data you’re scouring, staring at you with wide eyes.

“Go grab your stuff,” you tell him, nodding towards the doors he’d been headed to. “You have an early flight tomorrow.”

He blinks wildly. “We’re on the same flight.”

You nod, because you both know this quite well. There’d been a meeting this morning about who had to be where and at what times. You’re on the first flight out with the main team, headed to Singapore.

“I’m not the one who has to drive the car at very high speeds this weekend,” you remind him, pointing the eraser of your pencil at him. “Or the one who has to be in front of the cameras. You need your beauty sleep.”

Oscar laughs at that, a happy sound that makes you smile, too. “Okay, okay. I’ll be right back.”

You think about disappearing to the bathroom or the break room while he’s gone, just to avoid any further questions. You know Oscar relatively well, though, and knowing him, he’d just wait around until you came back. Or worse, come and try to find you. You can picture it- you pouring your third cup of coffee in the last hour, Oscar watching from the doorway with disdain. You stay put, sipping from your mug and scribbling notes.

He’s back within a few minutes, a backpack in hand. His keys dangle from his fingertips. You don’t look up from your laptop as he walks towards you, that is until he’s standing right in front of you. You blink up at him through your lashes. There’s a frown on his face- this close, you know your lack of sleep must be obvious.

He nudges the top panel of your laptop with a single fingertip. “C’mon. Time to go home.”

“I’m fine,” you tell him, shaking your head. “I’ll see you tomorrow, bright and early.”

“What, you just gonna stay here until we all meet up in the morning to go to the airport?” He scoffs.

“That would be ridiculous,” you laugh.

“It would,” he agrees. He seems to see straight through you, though. “Come on. Close the laptop, close the notebooks. You can work on this on the flight, like a normal person.”

“I’m trying to improve your car, you know.”

“I’m not leaving until you do,” he finally says, and you scoff with wide eyes. “And remember, I’m the one who has to actually drive the car. And go in front of the cameras. I need my beauty sleep.”

You rear your head back, unsure how to even counter that. He takes the opportunity to close the laptop for you, and you bat at his hands. Then he’s sweeping your papers into piles, stacking your notebooks and gathering them up into his arms.

“That’s my intellectual property, you know,” you scold him, reaching for the papers. He holds them up above your head easily, and you groan. “Okay, okay, I’ll go, just- I lost my pen, earlier. It’s my favorite one. I just have find it and then I promise I’ll go- you can go home, really, I’ll see you-“

He’s reaching for your head, suddenly, and you freeze. When his hand returns to your view, he’d holding the pen between his fingertips. You blink once, twice, then reach for it, but he’s holding it above your head within seconds, too.

“We’re leaving,” he tells you, firmly. “Come on. Up we go.”

You get to your feet reluctantly and pack your things into your bag. Oscar helps, handing you your papers in neat little piles. He keeps you in front of him as you both exit the lobby, like he’s afraid you might take off running further into the office building. His car is still parked out front, still running, and you see him wince.

“Didn’t expect to be inside for so long,” he says sheepishly.

You laugh lightly, starting your walk towards the employee lot. It’s down a well lit path, but every step feels heavy this late at night.

“Wait,” he says, and you pause. “Do you want a ride? You seem tired. You know, sometimes that’s as bad as driving drunk.”

“I’m not gonna fall asleep behind the wheel,” you tell him. You say it with confidence, because it’s pretty likely you’re not going to fall asleep at all tonight.

He cocks his head at you, cast in the bright glow of the floodlights. “At least let me drive you to your car. Otherwise, how do I know you’re not going to just go back inside?”

You roll your eyes. “And how do I know you’re not trying to kidnap me?”

You end up getting in the car, because he makes it pretty clear he’s not leaving until you do. You contemplate just walking to your own car, but honestly your feet feel so heavy it’s just not worth the fight. Oscar, to his credit, doesn’t kidnap you. He also doesn’t comment on your very modest car, the only one left in the parking lot. He does try to offer you a ride home one more time, but he lets it go after your repeat refusal.

You say goodbye, climb into your own car, and start the engine. The heat kicks on quickly, thank god, and you start up a playlist. It’s only when you look up, ready to leave, that you notice his car is still sitting there. You can just barely see Oscar behind the windshield, and he waves at you. He’s waiting for you to leave.

You flip him off as you roll out of the parking lot, and you watch him laugh in response.

…..

You’re one of the first ones at the office the next morning, and therefore one of the first ones on a shuttle to the airport. Oscar’s chronically late, or as he would call it, chronically precisely on time, so you don’t see him until he’s climbing on the plane. McLaren’s rented out a charter plane for this trip, with the double header making it the easiest solution.

You’re already settled into a seat, laptop open on the table in front of you, headphones on. You barely even look up when you feel him looking over you, but then he’s tugging one side of your headphones off your ear.

“Did you even sleep?” He asks, brows furrowed.

“Yes,” you lie, raising your brows at him defensively.

Oscar raises his brows in return. He obviously doesn’t believe you.

Before he can say anything else, Lando’s behind him, leaning up over his shoulder. “Oscar, mate, get a move on.”

Oscar rolls his eyes but does as Lando’s urging. There’s not assigned seats, per say, but the two drivers are headed towards the middle of the plane where their trainers and other senior staff are sitting. That’s how these things normally go- it just makes sense. They’ll have meetings on the plane, talk about meal plans and strategies and get ready for the weekend. You’ll spend your flight going through the data just one more time, trying to unlock all of the secrets to give Oscar the best possible chance on Sunday.

…..

Singapore is good. Not great, not perfect, but good. For Lando’s team, it’s a huge weekend. And honestly, 4th place for Oscar in his rookie year is huge too. He’s thrilled, tells you as much after the race, after the briefing.

“I know you worked hard this weekend, put in a lot of hours,” he says. “Thank you.”

“Just doing my job,” you say with a shrug.

“Right.” He says. “Thanks, though.”

You smile up at him, knowing it’s wobbly and insincere. You don’t take compliments well. “No problem.”

When you get to the hotel that night, you lay down in the bed and try to fall asleep. It’s no use, really, because it’s not your bed, and because your mind is racing. There’s nothing even bothering you, that’s the stupid thing. Just… a billion thoughts flying by all at once. So you wander the hotel, up and down the stairs, down the halls. You make a pit stop in the exercise room, walk on the treadmill, try out the rowing machine. You’ve never been one for working out, but the internet says exercise can help with sleep issues. It’s worth a try, but it doesn’t work.

You contemplate sneaking into the closed hotel pool, but ultimately decide against it. You’d probably get caught, and then you’d get in trouble, and it would somehow make it back to your boss. Then you’d get fired in Singapore, left to find your own way home. So instead, you head for the vending machines on your floor. There’s got to be something in there that’ll cure the racing in your head. Or at least bring you some comfort in the dead of night.

What doesn’t bring you comfort in the dead of night is a face in the reflection on the glass of the vending machine. You nearly scream when you meet someone else’s eyes. You whirl around, arms in a defensive position, and come face to face with Oscar.

“Would’ve pegged you for flight, not fight,” he says drowsily.

“You can’t sneak up on people like that,” you hiss, dropping your hands to your sides.

“Payback,” he mutters, dragging a hand down his face clumsily. “B‘sides, I wasn’t trying to sneak up on you. I was trying to get a snack.”

You blink at him. “Oscar, it’s 3am.”

He nods, blinks slowly. You almost expect his eyes to stay closed, almost expect him to fall asleep standing up.

“I woke up starving,” he says, shuffling towards one of the vending machines. “Promise you won’t tell Kim? I’ll buy you whatever you want.”

He’s cute when he’s sleepy. You want to tuck him into bed and tell him bedtime stories. You want to kiss his forehead. You blink hard, trying to reset your brain. The sleep deprivation is really getting to you. This is your coworker, your teammate.

You shrug and nod in agreement. “Would’ve kept the secret without the bribe, but if you’re offering…”

Oscar laughs, a quiet sound in the empty night air. “What’ll it be, then?”

He’s leaning against the glass heavily. He must still be half asleep. You can’t blame him. You point at the bag of chips you’d been eyeing, and then at the gummy worms in the corner. He nods in approval of both, selects them, feeds the machine his money. Then he’s picking his own snack- a poptart and a bag of Cheetos. He backs away, but you make a noise and point at the drinks machine.

“And a Red Bull?” You ask, pointing at your favorite flavor where it sits, lit up by fluorescent light.

He turns back, almost puts the money in, and then he pauses and looks at you. “It’s 3am.”

“Right, we established that.”

“Why would you drink Red Bull at 3am?” He asks, bewildered.

You shrug. “Because I like Red Bull.”

“Go work for them, then,” he suggests. You laugh. “Actually, I have a feeling that would be severely detrimental to your health. Too many free energy drinks. Do you ever sleep?”

“Those are big words for 3am,” you tease, nudging his shoulder. “Come on. The tangerine one, please.”

“I’m not buying you a Red Bull.” He shakes his head. “I am walking you back to your room and you’re going to bed.”

“I’ll tell Kim about your snacks.”

“No, you won’t.”

You let him walk you back to your room. He stands there as you swipe the key card, as you open the door and shuffle inside. He says goodnight from the doorway. You close the door after you echo the sentiment, lock all the locks, and lay down in your bed. You close your eyes and try to go to sleep. You really, truly try. But when the clock turns over to 4am, and you realize it’s useless, you roll out of bed and head down to the vending machine. You buy the Redbull with your own money, carry it back to your room, turn on the tv, and settle in until the sun comes up.

…..

Tokyo may just be your favorite city in the entire world. Everything is open all the time. You’ve never felt more seen by a city. The days that you and the rest of the team spend there between the two races are heaven. You have meetings during the day, but they’re short and easy. At night, there are plenty of places for you to roam, plenty of things to do and see.

You spend your nights in ramen bars, in arcades, in toy stores that seem to stretch on for miles. You collect so many souvenirs you’re worried you’ll have to buy a second suitcase. Frankly, you’re going on week two of sleeping only in one to two hour stints, and it’s likely you’re beginning to get a little manic. In Tokyo, though, nobody bats an eye.

You join the team for breakfast in the hotel lobby on Thursday. You’ve somehow ended up at a table with Oscar and Lando- you’d gotten here before anyone else, and Oscar had chosen the seat across from you. Lando asks what you’ve been up to. They’ve been busy with promo stuff, you’ve hardly seen the two of them all week.

You regale them with your stories and hand off your phone to Lando so he can scroll through your pictures. Oscar listens with rapt attention, leaning to look at the photos too.

“How do you do all this and find time to sleep?” Lando asks, an amused tone in his voice.

“She doesn’t, mate,” Oscar replies, pointing at your phone. “Look at the time stamps.”

You roll your eyes and snatch the phone away from them. Lando’s looking at you with wide eyes, Oscar is smiling amusedly.

“Sleep is for the weak,” you tell them, and you swear Lando’s eyes are going to bug out of his head. “We’re in Tokyo, I’m making the most of it.”

To Oscar’s credit, he doesn’t bring up the encounter at the MTC, or the run in at the vending machines. Still, this revelation seems to bewilder Lando.

“Sleep is like, the most important thing,” he says, shaking his head. “For your health.”

“Not all of us have to be in tip top shape,” you say, stabbing your fork into a waffle on your plate. “Some of us get to have fun. Exhibit B. Our breakfasts.”

Lando looks at your plate, filled with waffles and bacon and your cup of coffee, next to it. He casts his glance to his sad looking bowl of oatmeal, then, and sighs heavily. Oscar’s laughing at the two of you, though his plate looks just as sad.

“When you pass out halfway through the day,” Lando says, a retaliatory furrow in his brow, “I’m telling Andrea why.”

“That won’t happen,” you reassure him. “And besides, it’s media day. I have it easy.”

…..

Oscar makes it on the podium on Sunday. You scream your lungs out with the rest of the team, run to the pit wall, watch the podium celebrations. He’s wrapping everyone in enthusiastic hugs, slapping everyone’s backs and grinning so, so widely. All the lost sleep feels worth it, just to see him smile like that.

When he makes it to you, he hauls you into his chest, arms around your shoulders, holding you tight. You could stay like that forever, if he’d let you. He tucks his chin atop your head and you think you’d like to make a home right there, in his arms.

The celebrations go late, and so does the debrief. By the time it’s all said and done, everyone looks exhausted, including the drivers. They start shuttling you all back to the hotel for the night, back in Tokyo so you can get on the plane easily tomorrow morning. You’re just glad to be back in the city. On a night like tonight, buzzing with adrenaline and caffeine, there’s no way you’re falling asleep.

You somehow end up in a shuttle with Oscar. He smells like champagne and sweat, and you tease him about it when he sits down in the back row next to you.

He smiled sheepishly. “So I smell like a podium finisher, then.”

You watch as the city goes by out the window and listen to him chat idly with the others in the van. When you get back, you’re the last one out of the car. He’s waiting outside the hotel, leaning on the wall.

“So, what’s your plan for the night?” He asks, cocking a brow.

“No judgement?” You ask.

“No judgement,” he promises.

You shrug. “Not exactly sure. There’s a lot to do. I’ll probably get some ramen, maybe go shopping. Might just take a walk.”

He nods. “Sleep?”

“Not high on the priority list,” you admit.

He nods again. “Can I come with?”

You blank, staring at him. “What?”

“On your adventure,” he asks, crossing his arms over his chest. “Can I come along?”

Suddenly your heart is pounding in your chest. He wants to come with? Why? There’s a part of you that doesn’t like the idea, that thinks your sleepless adventures are for you and you alone. The other part of you, the one that wins out, thinks it might not be so bad to have some companionship.

“… sure,” you agree, eyeing him carefully. “But you have to play along. No forcing me to go to sleep.”

“Promise,” he says, holding out his pinky.

You hook yours with his and seal the deal.

…..

You both head up to your hotel rooms to change clothes, and in Oscar’s case, to take a shower. He sends you a text when he’s ready and you meet him in the lobby. He’s in a casual outfit, jeans and a hoodie. You’re dressed similarly, in a pair of black jeans and a crewneck.

“Where to?” He asks, wide grin on his face.

It turns out that Oscar is the ideal late night adventure companion. You start your night out at a sushi conveyor restaurant, both of you joking about how Lando would never dare to eat there. You eat to your heart’s content and make comments about fueling up for the night ahead. He even joins you in having an energy drink, some Japanese brand that you’ve never heard of. Oscar reads part of the label to you, balks at the amount of caffeine in it, and drinks it anyways.

After the restaurant, the two of you climb into a cab and head to the Shibuya district. It’s crawling with people, buzzing with energy, and you feel right at home. Oscar sticks close to your side, hanging onto the back of your sweatshirt as you cross the busy crosswalks in a sea of people. When you turn, though, he’s smiling like he’s having the time of his life. The two of you climb the stairs to an observatory where you can watch the dance of pedestrians and traffic from above. There’s a glow to the city that feels akin to how your brain feels when you can’t sleep- like it never goes out, never turns off.

You tell this to Oscar, who gives you a contemplative look.

“Is it the energy drinks?” He asks. His hand is on your wrist, likely just to keep track of you in the crowds.

You shake your head. “The energy drinks came after the… not sleeping-“

“Insomnia,” he suggests.

“… not sleeping,” you repeat, narrowing your eyes at him. “Anyways. I was like a zombie. The energy drinks make it so I’m functional. I figure if I’m gonna be awake, may as well enjoy it.”

You head back out onto the streets and begin to wander again. Oscar follows along, always holding onto you in some way, always smiling when you look at him. The two of you wander through art galleries and museums lit up with neon lights. Somewhere in the middle of one of them, he slips his fingers between yours. You’re not complaining. There’s something grounding, leveling about his presence.

You stop for drinks at a bar- some sort of local beer that Oscar orders for both of you in Japanese. It’s followed by a vodka Red Bull, at your insistence. Oscar wrinkles his nose but drinks the whole thing, seemingly determined to match you.

Next door, there’s a highly American themed bowling alley. Oscar laughs about how Logan would love it and pulls you inside. It’s the first stop of the night that he’s suggested, so you go along eagerly. He’s snapping pictures, ones to send to Logan, ones for himself, ones of you smiling, renting out bowling shoes. He pays for the game, and you both do terribly. The worker puts the bumper guards up out of pity, because the two of you obviously have no idea what you’re doing. He’s a world renowned athlete, you’re a highly skilled engineer, and yet, you both suck at bowling.

“When did the in-“ you fix him with a glare, and he stops mid sentence. “When did the not sleeping start?”

You look up at the ceiling of the bowling alley and purse your lips, watching the disco ball spin. “Next question.”

He huffs and shrugs, rolling the ball down the lane. “I don’t have a next question.”

“What’s your family like?”’you ask him, and he smiles, softer than you’ve ever seen him smile before.

“Well, I have three sisters,” he starts, eyes lighting up.

Somewhere between the bowling alley, the next bar, and the shopping mall you end up in, you start to really get to know Oscar. It’s funny how the night opens people up. Everything feels safer in the dark, surrounded by other people. It’s creeping up on 1am- in theory, both of you should be sound asleep. The fact that you’re not makes anything okay. You learn about his family, his childhood, his friends back home and in the UK. You tell him about yourself, too. He listens with an eager look on his face, laughing at all the right moments, squeezing your hand at the right ones, too.

You end up in a store that’s packed to the brim with stuffed animals. He lets you drag him around the whole thing, pointing out cute ones and the ones you think are a bit odd. Then you gasp, pointing excitedly, pulling on his hand.

“It’s you,” you squeak, the delirium beginning to set in. It’s a stuffed Kangaroo, and he groans softly. “Look, you’re even making the same face.”

Oscar seems unable to argue with that. Both he and the stuffed kangaroo do seem to be scowling. He smiles instead, picks it up, and takes it to the register. He buys it before you can really even say anything, and the cashier packages it in a bag. The kangaroo’s head sticks out over the paper, your second faithful companion for the night.

By 3am, Oscar is starting to drag. He perks up every time you look at him and smiles brightly, but you can tell. His grip on your hand is looser lately, and his blinks are growing longer and longer. You turn to him, a sympathetic smile on your face.

“We can go back to the hotel, if you want,” you say, poking his cheek lightly.

He smiles. “Are you tired?”

You sigh. “No, but you are.”

“I’m okay,” he insists, shaking his head. “What about the batting cages you mentioned? That sounded fun.”

You pout at him. “Oscar, you’re half asleep. You’d definitely get hit by a ball.”

He nods in agreement. “Maybe I just need another energy drink?”

You cock your head at him, take in his heavy eyelids, his parted lips. “That would be your third one of the night. And that would be very unhealthy.”

He nods again. “Yeah. Okay. Just… I said I’d be along for the ride.”

“We can hang out at the hotel,” you suggest. “The pool area is open all night.”

“I didn’t bring my swimsuit.”

“Me neither.”

You somehow end up with a pizza on your way back, and the two of you plant yourselves in the pool area on one of the chaise lounge chairs, the pizza box in front of you. You eat the greasy, cheesy food, and even Oscar indulges in it. He has his hand planted on the chair behind your back. Every so often you lean backs against his arm just to feel his presence. His knee bumps against yours, and you smile.

The pool is clear and blue. Neither of you will be swimming, but this felt like a neutral enough place. You’d thought about inviting him back to your room but had felt weird about it. There’s something calming about the still water and the smell of the chlorine, anyways.

He leans his head on your shoulder. The heavy weight of him is nice. He’s solid, sturdy, grounding. You’re chatting idly about something that happened at the race, something he’d missed while he was driving the car. You break off in the middle of a sentence to yawn, and then you close your eyes for just a moment. Oscar’s breath hitches.

The two of you are silent for a moment. You stare into the clear water, aching to drift and float and fall asleep. You sigh and pull your knees up to your chest.

“It started when I was a kid,” you tell him. “I just… stopped sleeping. It comes and goes in cycles. Sometimes I’m fine, sometimes I just…”

“Can’t sleep,” Oscar finishes for you, his words contradicting the sleepy tone of his voice.

“Yeah,” you say, blinking slowly again.

Your head droops, resting against his. He’s so warm, so comforting. He must feel you drifting, must feel your grip faltering, because then he’s sitting up, tucking you into his chest.

“Is there anything I can do?” He asks, drowsily.

“M’so tired,” you admit, curling into him. “Justwannasleep.”

Tears are stinging at your eyes. You hadn’t expected this, hadn’t been prepared for this part. The moment when your lack of sleep catches up to you, and you become an emotional, distraught mess. You’re seconds away from full on sobbing.

Oscar seems to sense this. “Okay. Okay, how about- I have a pull out couch in my suite. Why don’t you- if you’re comfortable, you could come sleep there. Maybe it would help to know somebody’s there if you need it? Maybe-“

“Okay,” you answer, nodding against his chest. “Okay, yeah.”

He takes care of the empty pizza box and guides you up to his room. You know there’ll be questions to answer if anyone sees you, but you’re comforted by the fact that it’s 4am and nearly every sane person is sound asleep. He scans into the room, and you let out a sigh when he lets go of your hand. He moves quickly, unfolding the pull out couch, grabbing extra blankets from the cabinets. Before you know it, you’re sitting down on the bed, rubbing your eyes.

It’s strange, now that you’re here. You’re in Oscar’s hotel room. You’ve just spent the night wandering Tokyo with him. You’re exhausted, sleep deprived, still on the verge of tears. Everything feels hazy and blurry.

“I can… go, if you want,” he says, and you blink up at him through your blurry vision. “Or I can sit with you till you fall asleep.”

“That might take a while,” you tell him. “Like, you’re more likely to fall asleep. Even… when I finally get to this point, it takes a while.”

He shrugs. “We could put on a movie.”

That’s exactly what you do. He turns on the tv, spots Finding Nemo on the guide, and turns it on. He sinks down on the bed, leaning against the couch back. You crawl up next to him as he turns the volume low. At first, you just sit shoulder to shoulder. Then he reaches out, wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulls you into his side. You sigh against him. Cradled close, you let the exhausted tears flow. He can’t see you, probably, and even if he can, you can’t bring yourself to care. He leans down, brushes his lips against your forehead.

“M’right here,” he says, softly. “I’ve got you.”

You wake up at 8am with your head in his lap. His alarm is blaring from the side table, and you’re both springing apart. He fumbles for his phone, shutting the alarm off with the shaky hands of someone who’s just been woken up from not nearly enough sleep.

You, on the other hand, have gotten the most consecutive sleep of your last two weeks. You stretch, rubbing the blur from your eyes and blinking at him.

“Sorry,” you mumble.

“For what?” He asks, voice steady.

“For… I don’t know. Keeping you up so late? Falling asleep on you?” You shrug. “I… that was a lot, for me to put that all on you.”

Oscar shrugs, so nonchalant about it. “It’s what friends are for.”

You nod, though you’re not convinced. You pull away, and Oscar’s soft smile drops to a flat frown. He reaches for you, but you dodge his touch.

“I should go,” you tell him. “We have to leave soon, people are going to be getting up and- if they see me come out of your room-“

“We can be friends,” he says, again, brows furrowing. “We didn’t do anything wrong, everything is okay-“

He doesn’t understand. It’s fine for him, but this is too much for you. He wants to be friends, but you’re looking at him and thinking about how if you could curl up on his chest every night, you might never have trouble sleeping again. He wants friends, you want more. You can’t have more, though, because there’s no way you’ll keep your job. And he doesn’t want that, anyways. Why would he? You’re just his pity project, the poor girl who can’t sleep, who fails at counting sheep.

“I should go,” you repeat, standing up. You can’t look at him, can’t watch him watching you. “Thank you. For everything. I’m sorry.”

He stands up too, and he grabs your hand. You pause, stuck between ripping your hand from his and running, or whirling around and snapping at him. Fight or flight. Instead, you take a deep breath. You’re still sleep deprived, still exhausted. 4 hours doesn’t fix two weeks of little to no sleep.

“I’m sorry,” you breathe, shoulders sagging. “I have a hard time letting people take care of me.”

“It’s okay,” Oscar says. “Just- come sit down? Let’s talk, okay?”

You sink down on the bed, rest your elbows on your knees and your face in your hands. “Why do you care?”

Oscar sits down next to you. He reaches out, knits your fingers together. You’re reminded of the art galleries, of the crowds, of the bowling alley. You split yourself open last night, in the safety of the time when you should’ve been sleeping. He saw you and he’s still here, somehow, hanging on. Your bones are tired. Your head is pounding. You need caffeine.

“I care,” he says, gently, “because I care about you. Because I think you’re a good person, and I want to get to know you better. And because this whole thing is not healthy.”

You sigh. His thumb brushes over the back of your hand methodically, back and forth. The funny thing is, you could fall asleep again, just like this. You could lean into his shoulder, let the warmth of him seep into your skin, and fall asleep. You wonder if he knows it.

“I’m fine,” you tell him, rubbing at your face sleepily. “Osc, I’ve been like this for years. It’s not just going to change now.”

“Not overnight,” he says, softly. There’s a callous on his thumb, you can feel the scrape of it over your skin. It’s oddly soothing. “But I can try. I can be here.”

“Why would you want to?”

“Because despite all the craziness, last night was the most fun I’ve had in weeks,” he says, and you could cry. “I want to spend time with you. I want to get to know you. Take you on dates. The whole nine yards.”

You should’ve expected this. Oscar can be shy, and quiet, but he can be straightforward, too. He’s pretty easy to read. He’s blunt with Lando, almost to the point of contention sometimes. But you’d been so focused on trying to prove to him that you were just fine that you hadn’t considered he was feeling the sparks, too. That maybe he wasn’t holding onto you in the crowd just so he didn’t lose you. That maybe he liked the feeling of your skin on his, too.

“If you want that,” he says, voice low.

You blink blearily, pull away to look up at him. “I do.”

He nods, leans forward, kisses your forehead. The rest of it will come later, you think. You can work all the details out when you’re both more awake. Right now, he pulls you into his chest and flops back onto the bed.

“We have an hour before anyone comes looking for us,” he says, rubbing your back lightly. “Close your eyes? You don’t have to sleep, just-“

You blink once, twice, and then you’re fast asleep before he can get another word out.

…..

Oscar wins the sprint race in Qatar, and then takes second on Sunday. He’s nothing but endless wide grins all weekend, despite the heat and the dehydration and his obvious exhaustion. You laugh when you watch him lay down on the floor in the cool down room and smile when he gets sprayed with champagne on the podium. He chases you through the garage afterwards to give you a hug, despite your screeching about how sticky he is.

He tucks you into his chest. “Couldn’t have done it without you, baby.”

Later, you help corral a very tired Oscar and Lando to the shuttles and back to the hotel. They’re each stumbling over their own feet, giggling and laughing about the race, shoving at each other’s shoulders. For a minute, you’re walking through an empty parking lot, far from any other McLaren staff, and Oscar links his fingers with yours. They fit together like puzzle pieces. His fingers are sticky with champagne, but you can’t bring yourself to care. Lando sees and doesn’t say anything, just smiles.

You’re keeping it quiet for now. Time to figure it out between the two of you before you get your bosses involved. You have a feeling it’ll be mostly okay. You’ll figure it out, one way or another.

You follow Oscar up to his hotel room, saying goodnight to Lando as he heads further down the hall. He knits his fingers with yours again, leads you into his room, and collapses onto the bed.

“I’m exhausted,” he says, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Are you?”

You smile down at him, laid out on the bed. He should probably shower, at the very least change his clothes, but you can’t bring yourself to tell him that.

You sigh. “I mean, yeah, but if you’re asking if I’ll be able to sleep… probably not.”

He nods in understanding and purses his lips. “D’you think… would you just… stay, until I fall asleep?” He asks, blinking up at you. “After that you can take my card and get a Red Bull and go do whatever, just-“

“Yeah, I’ll stay,” you tell him.

It’s the easiest thing you’ve ever done. He gets ready for bed, and you do the same. You lean against the headboard and he crawls up the bed. He puts his head on a pillow in your lap, curls up into a little c shape. He’s very cat like, you’ve noticed, especially when he’s sleepy. You run your fingers through his hair, the tv playing quietly in the background, and he sighs and closes his eyes.

“Goodnight,” you murmur, leaning down to press a kiss to his temple.

He’s out within minutes. Oscar is a sound sleeper. You could move him, could shift his head and get up. You could wander the halls, take his card and buy all the energy drinks you desire. But you look down at him, his brow unfurrowed, lips parted, and you can’t bring yourself to do it. You could sit here and watch him breathe all night. It’s a terrifying and comforting thought, all at once.

You don’t sleep. It’s likely you’ll crash on the flight home, or maybe shortly after that. With your luck, you’ll pass out in a meeting when you get back to the MTC. Oscar doesn’t scold you when he wakes up and it’s obvious you’ve been awake all night.

He gets you coffee from the breakfast bar, exactly how you like it. And when he finds you in the backseat of the airport shuttle, he hands you a tangerine Red Bull. It’s early, the sun just peeking up over the horizon, washing the whole city with orange. He’s smiling at you, and you’re smiling right back.

When you fall asleep on his shoulder on the way to the airport, nobody dares to say a word.

…..

“Did you hear we’re gonna be sponsored by Monster next year?” Lando asks, throwing a tennis ball at a wall in the courtyard.

You sit up in the grass nearby, eyes lighting up. “You’re kidding. Free Monster?”

Oscar, whose stomach you’d been laying on, sits up behind you and wraps his arm around your waist. He rests his chin on your shoulder.

“Your consumption will be restricted,” he says, and you laugh.

You suppose that’s fair. Besides, Monster is fine, but nothing will ever top tangerine Red Bull.

check out the companion blurb, Glad You’re Here

thanks for reading, hope you sleep better than me! you can find my other fics here! sweet dreams y’all

#oscar piastri x reader #oscar piastri x you #formula 1 fanfic #f1 oneshot #f1 fanfic #Oscar piastri oneshot #pls be gentle I am tired #honeywrites #op81 #Oscar piastri #tangerine!verse

[shdous]

CINNAMON BUN — SHIDOU RYUSEI

whenever shidou gets attention from girls, he doesn’t turn it down. but why would he? that’s what you’re for.

contains: female reader, penetration, semi public (car sex), a creampie, pet names including cinnamon bun, jealous reader, shidou being himself (gross), he’s in his twenties. 3.3k words.

note: shidou nation where r u .. shidou nation come home

ryusei has a bad habit.

a bad habit of letting other girls flirt with him. he doesn’t return the energy of course, but he won’t exactly deny it either. he’s not going to flirt back—nor give off the impression that he likes what’s being said to him, but the words stop or i have a girlfriend probably won’t leave his mouth either.

why? well, you have your theories.

you’re sure he get a little ego boost out of it—out of knowing that there’s someone other than you who wants to get in his pants. because let’s be honest—no one that flirts with your boyfriend has the intentions of starting a fairytale romance with him. he draws attention simply because he looks like he’d be fun for one night and one night only.

but really, he doesn’t entertain that.

in fact, sometimes he won’t even open his mouth in that situation. instead, he’ll stand there with a shit eating grin on his face until the moment you inevitably arrive back at his side.

because ryusei only lets other girls flirt with him when you’re around.

⋆

“shidou, right? i wouldn’t mind leaving with you.”

you’re standing nearby, within both earshot and plain view of your boyfriend when you hear these words.

clubs, bars—neither are your usual idea of a fun evening, but ryusei likes going to them for a few reasons. one, he gets to bring his hot girlfriend along with him. two, he gets to be the guy at the bar with a hot girlfriend. three, he gets to see his hot girlfriend in a hot outfit—if he’s lucky.

and tonight he is, because here you are—skirt sitting pretty on your waist, lips glossed pink, listening in as another girl hits on your boyfriend.

how fun.

getting onto the tips of your toes, you furrow your brows and peer over the shoulder of a man who’s inconveniently placed himself in your line of sight. while at your peak—you absorb as much as your eyes can handle.

first—ryusei’s sitting at the bar counter about a chair and a half away from you. he’s leaning back, glass in his hand, and if you had to guess—you’d say he’s chewing on the straw sticking out of it. he has his usual black elastic headband holding back his hair, but if you had to guess—you’d say a few of his little baby hairs have escaped it’s grasp by now. second—his company is lingering over his left shoulder, with a hand resting on the back of his chair. she’s standing up, so she’s looking down on him slightly, and she’s smiling too.

ideally, the third piece of information you take in would be the words leaving her mouth—but you think hearing her initial line must’ve been a fluke anyways, especially with how busy it is. instead, what you catch is her hand moving—in what you swear is slow motion—to the back of his neck.

you trust your boyfriend, one thousand percent.

he’s made it blatantly obvious that his obsession with you runs deep—it would probably classify as being unhealthy, even. but if that’s the case, why isn’t he moving?

doesn’t matter.

you can move, and you are—swiftly abandoning your task of getting your hands on a drink menu as you begin closing the gap. you take a detour around the tall gentleman—brush past a couple of people, and come to a halt behind them.

you feel your stomach do a backflip or twelve as you stand there, waiting to be noticed.

ryusei must have a sixth sense when it comes to you, because it’s only mere seconds before he’s peering over his shoulder and locking eyes with you—straw indeed tugged between his teeth as a grin blossoms behind it.

but he doesn’t do much else.

on the other hand, you don’t receive a whole lot from the girl to your left either—an unimpressed stare at best. it’s clear that neither has anything to say to you, and so you speak up.

“that’s my boyfriend,” you announce, and you don’t mean for it to happen, but the words come out like the tip of a blade—incredibly sharp.

they pierce through her, and judging by the way she’s retreating—you’re certain your message is received. the tiny little hearts in ryusei’s eyes are merely nails in her coffin.

she vanishes into the crowd, and soon it’s just you, your boyfriend, and the arm he’s snaking around your waist.

he sets his glass on the counter of the bar, turns himself in your direction, and spreads his legs a little bit—silently requesting for you to stand in between them, closer to him.

you don’t do much—other than stare.

“what’s up, buttercup?” he hums, tilting his head at you when you don’t accept his invitation.

“what the hell do you mean what’s up?” there’s a sour taste flooding your mouth courtesy of your boyfriend’s casualness, and you’re sure it’s visible on your face—likely in the form of some furrowed brows and a little frown. “did you forget that you have a girlfriend?”

ryusei’s eyes widen, and for a brief second you think you’ve caught him off guard, but then his tongue darts out of his mouth—licking over his lips before they morph into a cheshire cat grin.

big or small, any change in your attitude is always going to have his ears perking up and his tail wagging—because as much as he loves when his girlfriend is a perfect angel for him, it turns him on when you start acting like anything less.

“how could i forget this pretty face?” he coos—putting on a faux pout as he reaches up to cup your cheek.

his gaze floods with lust as he looks at you, and even more so when he glides his thumb across your bottom lip—slightly smearing your gloss in the process.

“apparently it’s pretty easy,” you mutter, pushing his hand away and avoiding his gaze by casting yours off to the side.

“hey,” his voice is a bit firmer, and he uses that same hand to grab your chin—forcing your eyes to meet his. “don’t be like that, cinnamon bun.”

ugh.

you unintentionally earned yourself that atrocious nickname after your first ever real argument with him. it didn’t last long—a few hours tops (he can’t live without your attention) but still, he said he’d accept a punishment for his behaviour. his mind was, without a doubt, in the gutter when he made that little deal—and so naturally, you told him he wasn’t allowed to finish inside you for a week.

the world might as well have been ending.

but, your boyfriend is spoiled beyond belief. you ended up letting him fuck you anyways simply to avoid having to deal with his shitty attitude and complaining. the one condition was that he had to cum on you instead of in you, and well, it didn’t take long for cinnamon bun to catch on.

you used to hate the name, but you’re more or less immune to all the weird shit that leaves his mouth by now. still, he has a knack for using this one exclusively when you’re mad—or when you seem like you’re about to be.

“ryusei,” you sigh in annoyance, but still draw a bit closer to him—placing yourself between his thighs with a pout. you need to know. “why can’t you open your damn mouth and say you have a girlfriend? you have no problem opening it any other time. do you like it when other girls hit on you?”

of course he doesn’t.

what he does like however, is when his girlfriend sees, and she comes over to intervene. it’s hot as fuck. the words he’s my boyfriend leave your mouth and his dick starts throbbing in his pants. yes, he’s all yours—and he wants to hear you tell every single living being in the world. twice.

but if you knew this, would you still do it?

“you’re thinking too much babydoll,” he hums—leaning in to press his lips to your cheek, where he peppers a dozen little kisses. “y’know i don’t give a shit about anybody else.”

the way he dodges not just one, but both of your questions pisses you off—even though you know he’s being genuine. everyone who knows ryusei knows that he has little to no regard for anyone who isn’t you. that thought alone is able to bring you a bit of comfort. not enough, though.

“i wanna leave,” you mumble.

the bubble that had been surrounding you and ryusei for the past few minutes pops, and all of your senses come flooding back. the static sound of people, the scent of someone’s cheap perfume—the lights, the music, the ache in your feet that stretches from heel to toe—toes that were on their tips for a few seconds too long, all because your boyfriend couldn’t shut down another girl’s advances fast enough. or at all, for that matter.

you definitely, absolutely want to leave.

“yeah? where’re we goin’ cinnamon bun?” ryusei asks—squeezing your hand to get your attention back onto him.

and god, he’s so cute—blinking up at you with his long blond eyelashes and his innocent little smile. there’s a heaviness weighing on your chest, and you’re starting to feel like…you don’t want anyone else to even look at your boyfriend tonight.

“anywhere but here,” you say.

⋆

hand in hand, you and ryusei venture outside.

as you walk towards your car, all you can hear is the little angel on your shoulder. she’s telling you not to fault your boyfriend for any of this. it’s not like he did anything. however, there’s something rather unpleasant sitting on your other shoulder, and it’s telling you the opposite. because it’s not like he did anything, right?

“ryusei, keys.”

the keys to your car—they’re in his pocket. your phone is there too, along with some gum and a little scented hand sanitizer. you didn’t really feel like carrying a purse around tonight.

which, in hindsight, might’ve been a mistake.

“oh, you mean these?” he grins.

dangling in front of your face is, your keys. one of the charms you have clasped onto the ring sways from side to side, almost like it’s mocking you. you swipe at them—claws out—but his reflexes are much, much faster than your own.

“ryusei, i swear to f—”

“relaaax, you can have ‘em,” he chuckles—taking a few steps ahead of you before turning around and winking. “but it’ll cost ya,” he adds.

you’re not sure what makes him think he’s in any position to be making demands, but out of pure curiosity—you’ll indulge him, just this once.

“what do you want?” you sigh as you follow after him. he’s already waiting by your car.

“hmm, what do i want cinnamon bun?” he leans himself against the driver’s side door—spinning your keys around his index finger as he lets his predatory gaze roam over your body like it’s his next meal.

and you can put two and two together.

“what makes you think you get to fuck me after that?” you bark at him—a little harsher than you probably should have.

“oh baby, of course i get to fuck you,” he coos—grabbing your jaw a little harsher than he probably should have. “how else are we gonna get rid of this attitude? y’know i can’t bring you home like this, pouty face.”

“well, i’m the one with the license, so actually you aren’t bringing me anywhere,” you mutter.

ryusei laughs—but it’s more of a giggle, and not necessarily the cute kind. he sounds a bit like a maniac, to put it bluntly. and you have to remind yourself that you’re playing with fire right now. if anyone else were to give him this much trouble—well, they probably know better than to try.

“i’m bringing you to the backseat, aren’t i?” he grins—briefly sticking his tongue out, because it can never seem to stay in his mouth for too long. he then leans in and plants a wet, messy kiss to your lips. “c’mon, lemme see my favourite pussy make a mess on my cock.”

shit. whenever ryusei starts talking like this—it’s impossible to not want to do exactly as he says.

you’re definitely biased, but praise from him is second to none—a little filthier than what most would deem normal, but still first place in your eyes. he knows how to get you going—how to make you feel hot and desired, feelings you’ve become obsessed with—unhealthily, even.

“you’re spoiled,” you mumble—hand now resting on the handle leading to the infamous backseat. “and a brat.”

as you climb into your car, you feel a little warm—like you’ve been standing beneath the heat of the blazing sun for a little too long. except, it’s about ten o’clock, and you have goosebumps littering your arms from the bitter night air.

ryusei appears in the spot next to you a couple of seconds later, the middle seat to be precise. he settles in—leans back, spreads his legs a little bit.

he barely has the chance to finish doing so before you’re lifting your hips and wiggling out of your panties—leaving the lacy fabric behind on your seat as you climb onto your boyfriend’s lap—all without being asked.

“mmm, you suckin’ up to me now sweetheart?” his hands tunnel beneath your skirt, where he grabs onto the fat of your hips.

before you can answer with a snide remark about how he’s the one who should be sucking up, his lips capture yours in another kiss—because he’d be stupid not to. after all, you’re finally where he wants you.

his hands start to knead and squeeze at your hips, and those somewhat tame movements lose all their innocence when he starts grinding you down onto the growing bulge in his pants like you’re his personal toy.

and it almost feels a little too good.

the warmth of his palms against your skin, the way your clit is rubbing against the fabric of his pants—a couple minutes of this and you’re struggling to even kiss him back.

so you allow yourself a brief pause—prying your lips away from his and turning your head to gaze out the window. he’s content with focusing some of his attention on your neck, kissing and sucking at the skin while your heavy breaths threaten to turn into whines.

and now that you’re looking, you note how many cars are in this parking lot. you’re parked fairly far from the entrance, but it’s probably only a matter of time before other cars start to fill in the spots around you. what if someone were to—

fuck.

ryusei plunges two of his fingers, middle and ring, into your cunt—disrupting your train of thought while simultaneously forcing a little mewl out of you.

“yeah, nice ‘n’ sticky for me, hm cinnamon bun?” he hums, sliding his fingers out and holding them up—separating them so you can see that they’re visibly sticky.

“shut up,” you huff, pushing his hand away and turning your head to the side again as a little heat finds its way to your cheeks.

“awww, y’know i love my dessert, baby,” he coos—popping his fingers into his mouth and sucking them clean.

“you’re gross,” you mumble.

but you’re still the one who’s reaching for the zipper on his pants. you’re the one maneuvering them down his thighs. you’re the one biting down on your lower lip in anticipation, because you might be the one who wants this more.

you wrap a hand around his shaft, pumping him a couple times before swirling a thumb over his oh so sensitive tip—spreading his pre cum. and you swear you can feel him pulsing, like his heartbeat is in his dick.

either love boners are real, or he’s already on the verge of an orgasm.

“c’mon, fuck me baby,” he whines as he bucks into your hand—patience growing thin with each second not spent inside you.

and it’s so hard to resist him when he looks this good—veins running up his forearms and tapering off, skin glowing beneath the artificial light seeping in through the windows, cock quite literally drooling in your hand.

your gaze flicks to the thin chain dangling from his neck. it has your initial on it. beneath that, there’s a familiar graphic on his shirt. you bought him that. lower down, you catch sight of his wrist. there’s a pink beaded bracelet there that spells out your name, followed by ‘s slut. you gave that to him as a joke, not expecting it to ever be worn.

wait, why are you mad again?

as you hover yourself over him, you can’t seem to remember. so you sink down—holding your skirt out of the way to let him see his cock disappear.

a breathy laugh leaves ryusei’s mouth, and then he groans, “shit, so fuckin’ tight babydoll. tryna make me cum already?”

you lean in to kiss him—hands roaming his chest as his own find their way back to your hips. he pulls upwards, and you obey the silent command—lifting yourself up and then back down, quickly finding a rhythm.

ryusei tilts his head back, leaning it against the headrest as he watches you with a hungry gaze.

but he’s not making you do all the work. he’s still using his strength to aid your movements—helping you bounce yourself along his shaft. and he’s angled perfectly—curved perfectly—giving you all pleasure and no pain, while making sure to rub against that little textured spot inside you.

“ryu, more,” you whine—back arched, nails carving crescent moons into his shoulders.

“yeah, that’s it baby,” he praises, letting his own nails dig into your waist. “pretty pussy’s feelin’ good, ain’t she?”

you respond with a moan—shifting a hand to his bicep for support and nearly cumming right then and there over how deliciously flexed they are, simply from the tight grip he has on you.

and it wouldn’t surprise him. all you’ve done is rile each other up all evening, so neither of you is expecting this to last much longer.

“gonna let me nut in you cinnamon bun?” he breathes out, gaze shifting from your hand to your eyes. “hm? gonna let me fill your sweet cunt to the brim?”

and what’s going to get you to say yes? maybe…

he runs his hands up your sides—slipping his fingers beneath your top and pushing it up. once he has your tits in his face, he sticks his tongue out—kitten licking at one of your nipples before sucking it into his mouth and humming in content.

“f-fuck, yes,” you gasp, arching into him further.

and he grins—he doesn’t stop his little makeout session with your tits, but he grins, and then changes his movement. from up and down to back and forth, he begins grinding you along the length of his cock—pushing you closer and closer to release.

you think your lips might be torn to shreds soon with all the biting you’re doing. you don’t want to risk a passerby hearing this—so you’re trying, really hard not to be loud, but it’s really hard not to be loud.

“ryusei!” you squeal, squeezing your eyes shut as you feel that first pulse from your walls.

and that’s as much warning as he gets, because one pulse turns to five—and soon your cunt is fluttering around him, causing you to slap a hand over your mouth as you crumble against him.

he groans, looping an arm around your waist to keep you in place. “shit, my turn babydoll.”

with his face nuzzled in your chest, and his dick twitching with excitement, he cums—throbbing a thick load into your cunt. and it’s a lot. a few lazy thrusts from your boyfriend causes a wet squelch to ring out, and a different you might find that sound embarrassing, but tonight—it’s music to your ears, because it’s only for your ears.

and god, you feel so much better. your bad mood has evaporated into thin air, and you no longer care about tonight’s events. well, the events that happened prior to entering your car.

but you also feel like you owe him something.

“i’m sorry,” you mumble, pulling back to look at him. and you don’t mean for it to happen—but your pout reappears for an encore. “do you still love me?”

he chuckles as he reaches a hand up—using it to squish your cheeks. “you’ve got my cum leaking out of your cunt, course i fuckin’ love you,” he coos.

you smile and snuggle back into him.

“yeah, you’re sexy as shit when you’re mad baby,” he hums. “we gotta do this again.”

and maybe you will.

maybe you can let other girls flirt with ryusei, so long as this is the romantic fairytale ending you get every time.

#shdous #shidou x reader #shidou smut #blue lock x reader #blue lock smut #shidou ryusei x reader #shidou ryusei smut #bllk x reader

[baby-yongbok]

𝑪𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒓𝒚

Fem!Felix x Fem!Reader

𝑮𝒆𝒏𝒓𝒆: Smut 𝑾𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝑪𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕: 3.5k 𝑺𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚: Your best friend is curious about a certain taste so you offer some help like a good friend would. 𝑾𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔: Oral sex, Rule 63 - Felix is depicted as afab in this fic, 𝑵𝒐𝒕𝒆(𝒔): Felix is referred to as Lix & Lixie + No use of Y/n + reader is depicted as chubby/plus size and is a POC ♡ 𝑷𝒍𝒂𝒚𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕: Cherry by Lana Del Rey, This is what makes us girls by Lana Del Rey, Cola by Lana Del Rey

♡ Masterlist ♡

 "What do you think it tastes like?" You peer up from your laptop screen, your curious eyes take in your best friend staring down at her phone screen, her platinum blonde bangs covering her furrowed brows and her glossed bottom lip caught between her teeth.

“What?” She tilts her phone towards you, showing you the filthy video she's been watching on loop for God knows how long. 

“Gosh, Lixie, in my room? Really? Right now?” A chuckle escapes you as you watch the video replay.

“I'm sorry, I know, I was just scrolling and it popped up. You know how unpredictable Twitter can be.” You only half heard what she said, you can see why she stopped to watch this video. Whoever that lucky lady is, is getting her pussy devoured in a way that you can only dream of. 

“But seriously… what do you think?”

“Uh, I actually already know what it tastes like. Well, everyone is different but -”

“Pause.” Your brown eyes shoot up to meet her wide ones. “You've done that before?” 

You can't help the blush creeping up your neck. “Yeah I did, I mean it wasn't planned and it was just -” 

“How did I never know this?” 

“I don't know but you won't find out much more if you don't let me finish.” Lix locks her phone, throwing it to the side and sitting up on her knees so that she faces you with shining eyes. Her plaid skirt rides up her thighs a bit as she gets comfortable on your bed. It’s way too short so that doesn't surprise you. It was her idea to get matching skirts but when the one she wanted was only available a size smaller than what she needed she decided to squeeze into it so that the two of you could match. 

“Start talking.”

“Okay okay uhm, it happened at my old friend's 18th birthday sleepover. It was a classic case of girls just messing around and things going too far. I went down on my friend while everyone else was sleeping, we always had some tension between us and we were both questioning if we were into girls so we just said fuck it and went down on each other.” She stares at you, blinking a couple of times as the information sinks in. “I’ve done it other times since then but that was the very first time.”

“What… does it taste like?” Her Australian accent decorates her words as they slowly fall from her lips, she bites at the inside of her cheek as she waits for your reply.

“Uh, kinda like nothing? Some girls taste kinda bitter and some kinda taste metallic? It depends on where you are hormonally but it generally tastes like licking the back of your hand.” You giggle a bit when her eyes flicker down to her hand. She makes a fist and brings it up to her lips to slowly run her tongue over the skin. You watch her closely, taking in her reaction. She licks again, closing her eyes this time and following with a low hum. 

“Then why do guys say that it tastes sweet?” Her brows are pinched together as her eyes flutter open. “I never understood that.”

“It’s just cause it sounds good I guess? It makes us feel good.” Lix sits back against the headboard to your bed and rests her head on your shoulder. You tuck your curls behind your ear so that she can get comfortable. “Have you never tasted yourself before? You don’t kiss Hyunjin after he goes down on you?”

“I mean, yeah but I just thought it would be a bit different I guess? He always says that I’m sweet so that’s what I expected.”

“I think that they say that when they really like you, ya know? Maybe Hyune likes you a lot.” The scoff that escapes her makes you chuckle, you can already tell that she’s rolling her eyes. 

“He likes everyone, he'd never actually wanna date me and that’s fine cause I’m not interested.” She’s not wrong, Hyunjin is the flirt of your friend group. He only started sleeping with Lix after they shared a drunken kiss and Lix went down on him. Ever since then he’s been trying to sweep her off of her feet but your friend isn’t easy to impress.

“Then why do you fuck him?” You turn to look down at her and she’s already looking up at you with a coy smile. 

“He’s got a big dick.” A loud laugh ripples from her throat as you stare at her with a slack jaw and big eyes. So the rumors are true? “I’m not telling you anything else.”

“Come on, you can not basically tell me that what everyone says about Hyunjin is true and then shut the conversation down!” She kicks her feet as she sinks further down onto the bed.

“I don’t wanna talk about how big Hyunjin’s dick is, I’ll show you a picture later. I wanna talk about how I think I might be into girls.”  She pauses, waiting for my reaction. 

“Oh, you are. You always have been. Everyone knows it, you’re late to your own party.” You slide down to lay next to her, resting your head on her chest. 

“No one was gonna tell me?” She chuckles, playful pushing you off of her. “Some friend you are.” She runs her fingers through your hair mindlessly as she stares up at the ceiling pondering her thoughts. “I’ve been thinking about this for so long. I already know what my pussy tastes like. I wanna know what others taste like.”

“Are you interested in anyone? Like, any girls?” A comfortable silence blankets the both of you while she thinks, her eyes trace the blemishes on your ceiling as she picks her next words.

“I don’t know, not really.” You crane your neck to look up at her but she doesn’t look at you.

“No one at all?” You whisper like you’re trying to get her to let you in on a secret. “Do you fantasize about anyone?”

“Yeah, sometimes.” She whispers back. “I’ve imagined eating someone out…it’s always the same girl.”

“Do I know her?” Lix shakes her head and you smile, sitting up a bit to get a better look at her. Her eyes stay trained on the ceiling until you ask her. “Is it me?” Her gaze slowly drifts over to meet yours. She studies your features for just a second before shaking her head, a deep cherry blush washes over her freckled cheeks as you smile down at her.

“You’re always staring at my tits, I knew it.” You tease with a laugh, falling back down against the mattress and Lix scoffs. 

“As if.” She rolls her eyes before falling into a fit of laughter with you “You’re my best friend and you’re a total babe. How could I resist? I was doomed from the start.” She puts the back of her hand against her forehead and sighs dramatically. 

“Lixie likes me, Lixie likes me.” You sing song as you tease her, poking her side and making her laugh as she swats you away. You two giggle and thrash around a bit before you’re still again, laying on your sides facing each other. 

“I’ll get over it.” She sighs, snuggling into her arm folded under her head. “It’s not like I’m in love with you, I just think you’re hot.”

“Do you think about me when you touch yourself?” She shakes her head and you smile “I think about you sometimes.” Her eyes go wide at your confession and you chuckle at her.

“Swear?” You nod, moving closer to her.

“Do you wanna know what girls taste like… or what I taste like?” You’ve been best friends with Lix long enough to recognize that look in her eyes, you know the answer to your question before she even opens her mouth. “You could… taste me if you want.”

“Now is not the time to mess with me! I’m having a crisis here.” You roll your eyes and grab her by her hip.

“I’m not messing with you, I mean it. You wanna know if you like girls and I’m a girl, this is what friends are for.” She smiles at you, shaking her head a bit as she ponders your offer.

“Are you serious?” You smile back.

“So serious.” The two of you stare at each other for a minute or two, allowing your racing heartbeats to fill the quiet that’s surrounded you. Both of you know what you want to do but who’s going to make the first move?

As if you both can to the same conclusion simultaneously you both lean in to each other, gripping the others hips and capturing your lips in a chaste kiss. Lix giggles at the contact, kicking her feet a bit as excitement surges through her. She leans in again, deepening the kiss and you sigh into it. She feels just like you thought she would and she tastes even better. Soft and sweet. 

“This is insane.” She whispers against your lips before kissing you again. “I have no clue how to eat pussy.” You both fall into a fit of laughter, clutching onto the other's waist as you struggle to find words. 

“It’s not hard at all I promise!” You wrap your fingers around her wrist gently and guide her down to your core. “Feel it first, get to know it.”

“Why are you talking about your pussy like it’s a cat?” You hike your skirt up with your other hand, revealing your cotton white panties with an obvious wet spot forming on the gusset.

“Hey, it’s my kitty and it has feelings.” You rest her hand on your pubic bone, giving her control of how far she wants to go. “Be nice to her.”

Lixie’s slowly moves her fingers over your clothed pubic bone, taking in your trimmed pubes that you’ve carefully styled into a perfect triangle. She inches her way down the inside of your thigh, her palm slightly brushes over your clit and you sigh at the feeling. Her careful touches are something that you’re new to, everyone you’ve ever been with has been rough, their touches seemed rushed and eager but not Lix. 

The feeling of her fingers brushing over your vulva brings you back to the present. Her touch is feather light as she runs two fingers over your clothed folds. She trails up and stops right at your clit, pressing a bit against it. “Oh” You kick your head back, allowing your eyes to flutter shut at the feeling. That’s one thing that you’ve always loved about being with girls, they all know where the clit is.

The feeling of the mattress dipping next to you makes you open your eyes, you watch as Lix moves further down to get a better look at where you're gushing for her. Her barely glossed lips are parted slightly as she looks you over with wide eyes. Her breathing is slow and calm despite her heart beating out of her chest with excitement. The cherry blush on her cheeks has only grown deeper now that she’s face to face with your cunt. Before you can even say anything she’s leaning into you, she places a soft but long kiss over pubic bone and your breath catches in your throat at the sight. 

“Is that okay?” Her voice is barely above a whisper and her eyes never meet yours.

“Yeah.” You let out a shaky exhale as you watch her kiss a bit lower this time. You spread your legs further and she quickly slots herself between them. Her lips brush over your inner thighs, peppering soft but sloppy kisses over the skin. As she got more comfortable she left sweet kisses over your labia, licking a bit at the wet spot forming to get a hint of your taste on her tongue. You tried to stop your hips from bucking up into her but you couldn’t help it, the closer she got to your clit the more eager you got. 

“Lixie.”  You moaned out her name and gasped as she started to tease your clit with her tongue. Her gaze is trained on  you as she kisses and licks over your panties, her wide eyes sparkle with faux innocence. You lazily grab at the blanket under you, small whimpers and restrained hums escape your throat despite your attempts at being quiet.

It’s the middle of a sunny day in May and your room is in the front of the house and your window is wide open. Your record player is playing some random song by Lana Del Rey and though it’s fitting for the situation you highly doubt that the soft music will drown out your moans. 

She breaks eye contact and pulls away so that she can observe your pussy through your ruined panties. She whimpers at the sight of your pussy under the cloth, cocoa and pink just like she imagined it.

“ ‘S so pretty.” She coos as she pinches the lips between her fingers. You moan at the pressure, rolling your hips a bit. She taps to fingers right where your clit sits under the wet cloth and you hiss, throwing your head back.

“Was that okay?” she asks quickly, pulling back a bit. “Hyunjin always does that, and I wanted to try it.”

You laugh and she follows. “You’re trying tricks on me that your fuck buddy does to you!?” She laughs louder, resting her forehead on your thigh.

“No! Well, yeah I am but I don’t have any other reference!” She continues her ministrations, running her fingers over your clit and halting your laughter immediately. Your whole body tenses in pleasure as you clench around nothing. Your body tingles with excitement as she kisses you over your panties once more. You could cum from just the thought of her doing that and now she’s here, with her mouth on your clit and you can’t help but want to explode right on her tongue.

 “Can we take these off?” she tugs at the hem of your panties and you offer an eager nod before lifting your hips to allow her to pull them off. Lix gasps as she pulls your panties down, her jaw hangs slack as she watches a string of arousal connect you to your soaked panties. She takes in the way that your cunt glistens in the spring sunshine and she swears that it’s the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen. “Is this a dream?” She mumbles under her breath but you hear her.

“It might be.” You prop yourself on your elbows, determined to watch her as she tastes you. She throws your panties to the side and spreads your pussy with two fingers. Her lust glazed eyes study you like you’re a work of art. She takes in every mole, every slight glimmer of your arousal and every clench of your tight hole. Her eyes meet yours for a second before she leans in closer. You stare down at her, not daring to break eye contact. She dips her tongue out and slowly licks a stripe up your leaking cunt. A loud moan escapes you when her eyes roll back at the taste of you, a whine leaving her throat when she swallows your essence. 

“Oh my god.” You say in unison, chuckling for just a second before falling back into the moment. She’s eager to taste you again, wasting no time dipping her tongue back out and licking up your folds.

The tip of her tongue teases your clit a bit and you buck up into her. She notes the reaction, leaning in to circle your clit with the tip of her tongue. Her eyes are on yours the entire time, she blinks up at you, drinking in your reactions to her amateur work. “ You look so pretty down there. Holy fuck, Lix.”

She feels more confident with your praise lingering in her head. She sucking your clit between her lips, laving over the sensitive bud and humming in satisfaction when you arch your back off of the mattress with a loud moan. Her small hands press against your inner thighs to keep them open for her as she runs her tongue up and down your folds. She flicks, licks and sucks all of the right spots, fucking you with her tongue once she’s truly comfortable.

You’re a moaning mess, your body trembles with pleasure as she works you towards your climax. Her name tumbles from your lips like a prayer and your fingers grab at the hair at the crown of her head. You’re so close but you don’t want this to end.

“Y-you’re really good at that.” She swirls her tongue over your clit, writing the alphabet with her tongue and you shudder at the dragged out moan she offers in response. You can feel your orgasm creeping up your spine, the familiar warmth starts to wash over you but she pulls away before it can take you completely. You whine in protest but before you can say anything she slides a finger inside you. You cry out, fisting the blanket under you in a desperate attempt to ground yourself.

“Oh my god, yes, like that, please, please add another.” Your breathing intensifies when she slips another finger into you, stretching you perfectly.

“I should still eat you out right?” You nod frantically, eyes shut tight as you chase your high. She dives back in immediately, lapping at your clit like an expert as she fucks your clenching hole. Your body shaking with pleasure as your orgasm washes over you, your moans and cries are so loud that you’re positive that anyone passing your house can hear your signs of pleasure but you couldn’t care less. 

“Lix-ah, Lix, Lixie, I’m cumming” She licks up your gushing arousal as you come undone, her free hand keeps you spread open for her as she laps up your juices. A chorus of moans float through the air, some belonging to you and some her. Once you start to settle down she slowly slides her fingers out of you and gives your cunt one last lick before backing away. Her chin is glistening in the sun as she smiles, her swollen lips are coated in your juices and the two fingers that were previously buried in your cunt are now between her lips as she runs her tongue over them. She rests her head on your thigh as she watches you come down from the clouds.

“This is definitely a dream, there’s no way that I made you cum that hard.” She smiles, as she wipes her chin with the back of her hand. “Did I do okay?”

“Was my screaming not enough of a give away?” You both laugh and she crawls back up to lay next to you. “Thoughts?”

“You taste…sweet.” She side eyes you with a smile and you both erupt into a much more intense fit of laughter. “You must like me.” You tease, pushing her playfully. “C’mere”

You lean up in an attempt to catch her lips with yours and she closes the gap, pressing her swollen lips against yours with a hum. “I am sweet.” She chuckles and you push her down onto your mattress.

“It’s your turn now.” 

“You don’t have to -” You cut her off with a kiss.

“I really want to.” She smiles up at you and watches as you crawl down her body. Just when you’re about to flip her skirt up her phone chimes underneath her. She ignores it and turns her attention back to you, lifting her hips to give you access to her pink strawberry print panties. You kiss her outer thigh and start moving inwards but before you can get too far her phone vibrates again. She groans in annoyance before she lifts up and grabs the device, unlocking it aggressively and checking her notifications.

“Oh.” She whispers with wide eyes as she sits up. “Oh no oh god I completely forgot.”

“What?” You ask, crawling back up to look at her screen. “Oh.” 

“I completely forgot that he was picking me up, our plans completely slipped my mind.” She starts typing quickly, trying to come up with a message that would get her out of her plans. Her phone vibrates in her hands seconds after her message is sent and somehow her wide eyes get even wider. “He’s here.”

“What?” Before you could even ask any questions there’s a knock at your window. All of your friends come through your window when it’s open. Why not? It’s in the front of your house and it’s fucking huge. You turn quickly and sure enough Hyunjin is lifting himself up and into your room. 

“Ladies.” He greets with a sigh once he’s in, he takes you both in with furrowed brows. His eyes dart from your skirt around your waist to Lixie’s messy hair then down to your friends flipped up skirt and then they finally stop at your ruined panties discarded at the end of your bed. “What’s going on here?”

“Nothing.” You say in unison, not even bothering to fix your appearances. 

“Nothing?” He questions, an eyebrow raised and a sly smirk on his lips as he looks you both over again. 

“Yeah we’re just…” Lix trails off, looking at you for assistance but Hyunjin finishes before you can jump in “Tasting cherries?” He walks over to your bed, sitting at the edge and leaning back against the frame. 

“Mind if I have a taste too?”

a/n : Thanks for reading! I've never written anything like this ever so I hope you enjoyed! Reblogs, Comments and likes are appreciated and always make my day!

#Banners by @anitalenia #fem!skz #skz smut #stray kids smut #fem!felix #Felix smut #skz x reader #felix x reader #stray kids x reader #stray kids fanfic #skz au #stray kids au #stray kids #skz #felix lee #lee felix smut #lee felix x reader #skz hard thoughts #stray kids imagine #skz fanfic #fem!stray kids #skz imagines #stray kids scenarios #skz scenarios #felix scenarios #stray kids imagines #felix stray kids #felix hard thoughts #felix skz #stray kids felix

[dollfacefantasy]

Let Them See

pairing: leon kennedy x fem!reader

summary: leon teases you while you're at the bookstore. on the way home, he has to pull over to deal with it.

cw: nsfw (18+), smut, p in v, oral (m receiving), daddy kink, praise/degradation, dubcon elements (reader is scared of being caught), thigh fucking, he cums inside, car sex, road head, teasing in public, crying, sub space (forgive me if i'm using that incorrectly)

word count: 4.9k

a/n: i feel absolutely depraved. thank you to @sleepyluxe for the idea. this does reference my other fic, but it's not important to the plot. just if you read that one, this is like a little sequel! if you sent me a request, i am working on it, please be patient with me. i hope everyone enjoys. special smooches to everyone who reblogs and comments and sends me asks :) you don't know how much it means to me <3

tags: @dwkfan @tosuckmyweenis @pupthepokemonenthusiast @sleepyluxe @petitecolibri @death-paint @luniaxi @bizzarethirst lmk if you would like to be added to the list!

You gaze out the window of the car, looking around at the beautiful day outside the glass. You softly hum along to the song playing on the radio as Leon’s fingers rub tiny circles on your inner thigh. You occasionally look over at him to watch him drive, your eyes full of all the love in the world. Your boyfriend finally had some time off, and he was spending it with you.

The entire day so far consisted of the two of you going around and just doing whatever you wanted. Just having fun together. Now, you were on the way to the bookstore. You had no shopping agenda, it was just another stop on your series of activities.

He pulls the car into a parking space near the shop and shuts it off. He squeezes your thigh once more before leaning over to kiss your cheek.

“You ready, sweetheart?” he asks while stroking your face softly.

You nod and lean in for one more sweet kiss. 

The two of you exit the car and head towards the store. Your hand finds his immediately, interlacing your fingers together. You lean your head against his shoulder as the automatic doors glide apart to let you in. His expression softens when you display your need to be close, and he kisses the crown of your head.

You wander the aisles together, looking through different sections and pointing out different things you’d read or wanted to read. Eventually, you end up in the romance section. Leon shifts his position to stand behind you and watch from over your shoulder. His arms circle your form, encasing you against his chest while he nuzzles the side of your head and kisses your cheek a few times.

You smile and turn your head slightly to give him a small kiss as you read the synopsis of the book in your hand. You guessed he had missed you lately since he’d been working so much. He was usually pretty attached to you right after coming home, and you never minded because why would you? If he needed extra affection, you would never deny him that.

Your intuition was half-correct because your boyfriend had missed you and did want to be in physical contact with you constantly right now, but the reason behind his current touchiness was a different type of longing.

He was so pent up from being away from you. A couple of days before he left for his last mission you had let it slip that you wanted to call him Daddy, and he had been feeling wild ever since. Sure, he’d fucked you until you couldn’t walk prior to him leaving and spent nearly all of last night inside of you, but it wasn’t enough. He craved you so deeply. He could feel every cell in his body yearning for you.

In his time away, it felt as if images of you clouded his mind in every waking moment. If he wasn’t actively fighting for his life, but even in those moments too sometimes, he was thinking of you. Your blissed out, flushed face, and your soft parted lips spilling entrancing sounds of pleasure. The way he could nearly see a physical change once you heard him praise you or remind you to be good for Daddy haunted him each minute he was across the globe from you.

It was like a new part of you had been unlocked to him. A side of you that looked at him with such reverence that he almost couldn’t stand it. He loved every facet of your personality, but this piece of you that wanted nothing more than to love him and be taken care of drove him up the wall.

He takes a deep breath while peppering the side of your neck with gentle kisses, inhaling your scent. He lets out a hum next to your ear, quiet enough so only you can hear, but in a tone to let you know what he desires. 

Despite his hinting, you just smile again and give him another chaste kiss. You were still too focused on that book for his liking. He watches you flip through the pages and scan different passages. He is disinterested for the most part until a certain section of words catches his eye.

“His manhood glides into her sopping heat,” he reads with a low chuckle. He gives you another peck on your temple. “This what you read when I’m gone, honey? So dirty, but I guess I should’ve known.”

“Oh, shut up,” you say with a roll of your eyes. You gently jab your elbow back into his abdomen.

That makes him smile and hold you even tighter against his broad front. His hands slowly rub either side of your body while his warm breath is blowing over your neck.

“No, it’s ok, baby. I know you’re insatiable. You gotta take care of yourself somehow when I’m not there,” he says quietly against your skin.

“Leon,” you say in a warning tone. It wasn’t so much what he was saying that was starting to get you hot. It was the low rumble of his voice, his lips brushing your throat, and his thick biceps locked around you like boa constrictors.

“I can just see it. You in bed, book in one hand, the other down your shorts, those fingers playing with your pretty, aching pussy. Hips bucking while you bite your lip,” he breathes, “But it’s probably not enough, is it? No, I’ve got you trained so well, baby girl. I know you can’t cum without Daddy’s help. I bet you call out for me when I’m not there, wishing it was me buried between those cute legs instead of your hand.”

“Leon,” you say, trying to speak in a warning tone, but it comes out as a soft whine. Your cheeks felt hot and your head a little dizzy.

“Leon?” he mocks, “That’s not who you were crying for last night, sweetheart.”

“Daddy,” you correct yourself quietly, turning your head to look into his eyes. His lips curl further into a predatory grin.

“That’s it. Good girl,” he coos and kisses your nose, “Daddy’s girl is so smart, remembering things like that. Good to know you keep some of that mind after I fuck it dumb all night.”

The way he taunts you makes it feel like your knees are going to buckle. You try to plead with him through your eyes. The aisle you were in was empty and towards the back of the store, but your mind was running rampant with thoughts of someone else catching the words that left his mouth.

“What’s that look for, princess?” he laughs in a hushed tone, “I thought you loved when I talked like that.”

“What if someone hears?” you ask softly.

“Oh, baby,” he coos, “Are you afraid of someone seeing how pathetic you are for Daddy?”

Heat bunches in your lower abdomen making you shift a little. You nod.

“Scared of someone seeing how you rub those gorgeous thighs together? How you can’t meet anyone’s eyes? How you have to hold Daddy’s hand to feel ok?” he whispers before nipping at your earlobe, “And all just from a few words.”

Your breath hitches and you fight to keep the whimper blossoming in your throat inside. “We’ll get in trouble,” you say, your voice shaking.

“Aw, my sweet girl doesn’t want to get in trouble?” he teases, “Baby, we’re just talking. If you can just keep yourself under control, we’ll be fine. I know it’s hard for you though. You hear Daddy, and you become such a needy little slut.”

Your head hangs forward a bit. You stare at the ground trying not to let yourself lose it in public. You were slipping into that state of mind where all you wanted was to be good for him. You wanted to just drop to your knees and have him pet your head while you sucked him off.

He knows what’s going through your mind. He can read you like no other. One of his hands slides down to your stomach to gently caress you there. The book you were holding was long forgotten, and Leon smiles wide as you push it back onto the shelf.

“I mean, even if someone did hear me, it wouldn’t be that bad, would it? It’s not like they’re seeing you when we’re alone. When you’re whining and crying for my cock like a bitch in heat,” he rasps.

“Daddy, stop,” you whimper. You felt hot and achy with need. You just wanted him to hold you and fuck you until you couldn’t think, but you were stuck in the middle of this store with bright lights and people walking around and nowhere to be alone.

“Do you really want me to stop, angel?” he asks, “I know you love this. I know you love feeling all shy and needing me to make it better. I think deep down you want everyone to know what a whore you are for me. You want ‘em to know how I own you.”

You bite your lip. You were getting so turned on, you felt like you could cry. The mix of shame and arousal swirls inside your head and pushes all other thoughts out. It was just you and Leon right now, no one else mattered. Being seen like this was becoming less of a worry to you.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought,” he says with a smirk, “I know you love it. I bet you if I put my hand down your pants right now, you’d soak my fingers. I just know you’re dripping from being reminded how pathetic you are for me.”

You turn around in his hold to hide your face against his chest. Your arms wrap around his body so that you’re as close as possible. If someone else saw you now, they might just think you were having a bad day and Leon was comforting you in earnest.

Your display of submission amuses him. His face is smug. He rubs your back and cradles your head.

“Aw, baby, are you gonna cry? Is this too much for you, sweetheart? Are you embarrassed I can get you this desperate from my voice alone?” he croons.

“Yes,” you say. Your tone is desperate, both for him and to leave the store.

“But why are you embarrassed, honey? You like being claimed, don’t you?” he coos and tilts your head up by your chin, taking in your flustered expression, “Yeah, you like when people see us, and they know that you’re mine just from one look. So what is there to be embarrassed about, babydoll?”

“I like it… but… I just… because-” you struggle to articulate yourself as you gaze into his piercing eyes and he begins rubbing his knuckles along your jawline.

“Because you don’t want anyone else knowing? No one else can see how much you like being controlled because it’s shameful, isn’t it? It’s humiliating to admit that you like me controlling everything, from the number of times you cum at night down to the clothes you wear when you wake up in the morning. No one else should know the infinite amount of vile, disgusting things you would do if I just asked you to,” he whispers and kisses your hairline.

He swipes his thumb across your lips slowly as he talks. When he’s done, he sticks the digit between your lips. You gently suck on it, maintaining eye contact with him all the while.

His eyebrows raise, indicating how pleased he is with you. “I really do have you perfectly trained. You don’t even think about it anymore. You feel any part of me in your mouth and you know to start sucking like a good little slut.” He pulls his thumb back out and smears your saliva over your lips.

“Can we just leave?” you ask softly, your eyes casting down again, “Please.”

“What? You don’t want to buy anything? You know I’ll pay,” he teases, knowing that shopping couldn’t be further from your mind right now.

“Please Daddy,” you whisper and look at him desperately. You were so soaked it would be uncomfortable if you stood there for any longer.

He presses a tender kiss to your lips, deciding to give you a break. “Yeah, beautiful. We can leave. I don’t think you could focus enough to read anything right now even if you wanted to.”

He takes you under his arm and starts to guide you out of the store. You keep your arms around him as you lean into his side.

“That’s my girl. My good girl,” he whispers and kisses the top of your head while the two of you walk through the exit, “You just need Daddy right now, don’t you baby?”

“Mhm,” you hum quietly as you make your way through the parking lot.

When you reach the car, Leon opens the door for you and helps you inside. He then quickly goes around to the other side of the car and gets in the driver's seat. He wastes no time turning it on and getting it into gear. The car whips out of the parking space and out to the road.

Your eyes continuously dart over to him. The urge to hop over the center console and into his lap was all-consuming. He briefly glances at you with a knowing look.

You take that as a signal and slowly reach across the car. Your hand lands at the top of his thigh and slides over his lap to palm him through his jeans. He was already half-hard from tormenting you in the store.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he asks teasingly.

You tentatively pop the button of his jeans open and tug the zipper down. Your eyes are silently begging while your fingers begin massaging the outline of his length over his boxers.

“Just need to feel it. Please,” you say as your fingertips continue their miniscule movements.

He shakes his head and lets out a laugh while adjusting in his seat to give you better access. “You need it, do you?”

You nod and maneuver your hand into his underwear for direct contact. Your fingers wrap around him, feeling the heat of it pulsing in your grasp. Your content with that for a while, but soon you want more.

“Daddy, can I please suck your cock?” you ask.

Hearing your soft and sweet voice ask for something so vulgar made his dick twitch with need for you, but he tried to keep his reaction casual.

“Look at you, asking like a good girl,” he teases, “Can’t wait until we get home? Did Daddy get you too worked up?”

“Yes,” you say timidly, “I just… I need it.”

“It’s ok, you don’t have to explain,” he says, “You can suck me off, my love. Just be good, so we don’t crash.”

You nod quickly, happy he wasn’t going to torment you on the way home too. After unbuckling your seatbelt, you shift and lean over to his seat to put your head in his lap. He splays a protective hand across your back as you get in position. Without hesitation, you get to task and pull him out of his boxers.

You lick the bulging head a few times, but then wrap your lips around it and sink down. You flatten your tongue against the shaft, feeling the veins as you lower your head. He groans and tightens his grip on the steering wheel. His other hand rubs your back in small strokes.

“There you go, angel,” he says, “Fuck, I could never say no to your mouth.”

You suck gently before bobbing your head slowly up and down. One of your hands cups his balls and kneads them carefully. The noises of the blowjob sound through the car’s enclosed space. Leon fights the instinct to buck into your throat. Your mouth was just so warm and wet and soft. Absolute heaven. It was hard for him to focus on the road in this condition.

It was easy for you to focus on giving him head though. You work your mouth over him, paying attention to all his favorite spots and taking him as deep as you can. You rest your nose against his pelvis as you hold him in your throat. His thighs tense and the car jerks a little when he accidentally pushes on the brakes too hard.

“Jesus fuck, baby. Ease up a little,” he grunts. His hand on your back coasts up to your neck and caresses the base of your skull.

Not long after he says this, you pull off to catch your breath. While you take your break, you purse your lips and spit a fat glob of saliva onto his cock. It drips onto the head and then slides the rest of the way down to where your fist is now gripping him. You start jerking him and spreading your drool around his shaft.

You press sloppy, wet kisses to his tip. Some of his precum coats your lips before you open your mouth and bring him inside again. You make muted gagging noises while you try to get him deep again.

He wants so badly to watch you, to see that adorable dedicated look on your face and your eyes tearing up as you choke yourself. It’s driving him crazy having to watch the street ahead of him. He can also feel the simmering build up of release which he doesn’t want to do so soon or while he’s driving. His hips twitch more while he white-knuckles the wheel.

“Babe, calm down,” he hisses pointlessly. You’re wrapped up in your own little world right now, “If you don’t quit it, I’m gonna cum and then you’re not gonna get to have any fun when we get home.”

You sort of register that comment, but you were absolutely fixated on getting him to blow his load down your throat so you don’t stop.

He realizes instantly that you’re not going to let up. He makes a split second decision to pull a sharp turn onto a less busy road. He steers the car off of the asphalt and off road a little bit. Once there’s substantial distance between your vehicle and the road, he throws it in park and yanks you up by your hair.

“When I tell you to do something, it’s not a request,” he states simply. 

It takes a lot in him to keep up the serious persona and not smile at your face right now. You looked fucked out even though you hadn’t even come close to the main event yet. Saliva covers your lips and chin while your eyes project a dazed mix of arousal and guilt.

“But Daddy, I just wanted to make you feel good,” you say.

“Liar. I know you just wanted some cum down your throat cause you’re a greedy little slut, baby,” he chides, “Also, is it your job to ‘try’ whatever you want?”

You shake your head and look down like a puppy who’s been caught being bad. “I’m sorry Daddy,” you say softly.

“What is your job?” he asks, ignoring your apology.

“To be a good girl and listen to Daddy.”

“Hm, so you do remember. You’re not stupid then, just deliberately disobedient,” he says.

You open your mouth to dispute that but decide against arguing and shut it again. The way you were shrinking in on yourself made him want to ruin you even more.

“Good, at least it looks like you’re learning. I’ll have to remind you of the rest though,” he says and finally lets go of your hair, “Get your ass in the backseat.”

“But Daddy-” you start, about to repeat your fears from earlier about being seen.

“Enough with this ‘but Daddy’ shit. You wanna act like a whore, that’s how I’ll treat you,” he says, “Be grateful for the privacy you get. You’re lucky I didn’t just stop the car and fuck you in the middle of the street.”

Your inner thighs were slick with your arousal by this point. You could feel it when you began crawling past your seat to the back of the car. Leon slaps your ass as you make your way there, causing you to yelp.

He simply gets out of the car and enters the backseat through the door. He sits next to you and looks at you expectantly.

“What are you waiting for?” he asks, “Do you really need me to guide your every move? I know that’s not true because you just showed me it wasn’t.”

“I’m sorry Daddy,” you say again as you begin removing your clothes. You peel your top off and shimmy out of your pants.

“I know you are, baby. But I still have to teach you your lesson. You have to learn that Daddy knows best,” he says while taking off his own clothing.

You scoot closer to try and assist him, but he manages on his own and flips you over, pinning you to the seats. One hand is locked on the flesh of your hip while the other holds your head down against the leather. He’s kneeling behind you, hunched over due to his stature in the limited space.

He teases up and down your folds with the angry red tip of his cock, still leaking precum from the close call a few minutes ago. Your body yearns to be filled, but you keep quiet and try to appear patient.

“Do you even deserve my cock?” he asks as he bumps your clit. You would nod, but his hold on your head is strong. “I mean really, maybe I should be focused on training some patience into you. Teach you take what I give you and not vie for more.”

“Daddy, I’m sorry,” you whimper.

“I know, babydoll, that’s only the tenth time you’ve said that,” he mocks as he slides up and down through your slick, “But I can really show you what sorry is. Maybe I’ve been too lenient with you. What if, right now, I fuck your thighs? You keep those pretty legs together, nice and tight for me to use like a fleshlight.”

He pushes your thighs together like he described and begins slowly thrusting himself between them. He quietly grunts and kneads your ass.

“Please Daddy, no, I’m so-”

“Ah ah, don’t interrupt,” he tuts, not stopping his hips, “You’d probably still get off on it. You’re so whipped for me you’d probably cum if I smiled at you right.”

You stay silent. You knew he was teasing, but it might have been true. He knew all your buttons and just how to push them.

“Yeah, you know I’m right. My poor baby. You can’t help it. You don’t know any better, do you?”

“No…” you say quietly before your bottom lip juts out into a pout. The idea of him not fucking you properly while you were possibly the most horny you’d been in your life was deeply upsetting.

“No, you don’t,” he agrees in a condescending tone, “You just love Daddy so much. It’s not your fault your body is addicted to me. You don’t choose for your cunt to soak through your panties just from hearing my voice, do you? It just happens. Your heart knows it belongs to me.”

He speaks as if he’s comforting you which makes it feel so much worse and so much better at the same time. Your eyes water, the mix of emotion being a lot for you to handle in this state.

“It doesn’t care how pathetic you act because of it. All it knows is that you need your Daddy,” he says, his voice husky. He pulls away from the junction of your thighs and nudges your legs apart with his knees. He positions his cock at your entrance. “That’s why I’ll give you a pass, baby. You’re not a bad girl. You just need me to keep you in line sometimes.”

His grip has weakened enough that you’re able to nod. “Thank you Daddy,” you choke out as he pushes all the way inside in one go. You were so wet that he had no problem bottoming out immediately.

“Good girl,” he praises through gritted teeth and a clenched jaw, “So fucking wet, Christ.”

Everything felt right now that he was inside of you. The relief crashed on you like a wave. A couple tears leak from your eyes and your body shudders.

He starts pushing himself in and out, his head tilts back as he does. You clutch the edge of the bench while your eyes flutter. You felt like you were up in the clouds. The feeling of him twitching against your walls as he slid in and out was total euphoria. It was a little much to feel this way from a few strokes, but like he said, you couldn’t control it.

You bounce your hips back against his and he smacks it. You can tell from the sting that there will probably be a handprint on the skin. He lets you fuck yourself on it for a little while before he takes over again. He stares down to where the two of you connect, unable to tear his eyes from how your cunt sucks in his cock, your wetness gathering around the spot where your bodies link.

You whimper and cry as he picks up speed, pistoning into you. Your cheek feels numb from being squished on the cushion. Leon notices and leans down closer to you. It wasn’t unusual for you to get emotional during sex but seeing it always made his protective urges flare up. He wraps his thick arm around your neck from behind, putting you into a loving headlock. He lays some messy kisses on the side of your temple.

“I love my needy girl so much. You know that right?” he whispers while sensually rolling his hips against your ass, “I wouldn’t want you to be any other way. My sweet girl, so sensitive. I love you baby.”

“I love you too,” you cry. You lean into his kisses and lift one of your hands to rest it on his forearm.

Knowing you’re ok, he resumes his harsher thrusts, pulling you by your neck closer to him. He growls into your ear and nuzzles the side of your head.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum, babe. Can’t last in this tight pussy, squeezing me like a fucking anaconda,” he moans.

You bite your lip and grip his arm tighter as you feel your own peak rising within.

“Where do you want it, baby girl?” he grunts in your ear.

“Inside, Daddy. Please,” you whine.

He chuckles and gives you one more kiss on the head for saying please. 

“I don’t even know why I ask anymore. Course you want it in your pussy. Even though you look so cute with Daddy’s cum all over your face, no thoughts in that pretty little head. Just happy you got some attention.”

“I like it inside,” you defend before gasping.

“I know you do, angel,” he says, his voice strained as the ecstasy begins to bubble over, “I like it too. Stuffing you full of me. A little reminder of who owns you once we’re finished.”

You nod as best you can in the headlock before your body seizes and jerks. Your orgasm rips through you, making you shake and moan through tears. You claw at his arm with both hands now, brokenly whimpering for Daddy over and over.

He can’t take it anymore. The sight beneath him mixed with the bliss of your cunt fluttering around him, it breaks the resolve inside him. He snaps his hips against you roughly and tightens his arm around you. He growls and grabs the leather seats so hard you think he might rip a chunk out.

He pumps into you repeatedly, draining himself in the warm embrace of your velvety walls. You can feel the thick white ropes filling you up as the sweaty skin of his abdomen rubs against your back.

His hips spasm as he finishes. He rests on top of you for a moment afterwards, panting to catch his breath. He kisses your neck gently and then moves to your ear.

“My beautiful, perfect girl,” he whispers, “So good for me, baby, like always.”

He gets off of you so you can sit up. Once you do, he gently holds your jaw and wipes away any leftover tears and saliva on your face. He leans in and gives you a soft kiss.

“So pretty,” he mumbles against your lips.

The two of you dress in the backseat, pulling your clothes on haphazardly so you can actually go home. This time you get out of the backseat through the door and hop back in the passenger seat. You laugh when you see Leon stretching outside of the driver's door.

“You ok there, buddy?” you tease when he gets back in.

He smiles, raises his eyebrows, and starts the car up.

“I’m buddy now? Are you over Daddy?” he says, “This is the thanks I get for working hard to please you.”

“Thank you Daddy,” you say overly-sweet, leaning over to kiss his cheek as he pulls back onto the road.

“You wanna play around, but I’m not the one who was crying that ten minutes ago when she thought she wouldn’t get any dick,” he laughs.

“Oh, shut up, Leon!” you say and roll your eyes.

“It’s Leon right now, but I bet you when we’re home in five minutes, I’ll have you begging for Daddy again,” he says and smirks.

You smile and look away, knowing that he’s totally right.

#leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy x you #resident evil imagines #resident evil x reader #leon kennedy imagine #resident evil smut #smut

[sai4u]

couple of the year !

⤷ gq couple interviews with nct dream

− ⌗ ft .∿ dream ot7 x reader

− ⌗ genre + warnings .∿ fluff + haechan think he’s #1 (spoiler he’s not) & someone please save jeno….

− ⌗ trin’s note .∿ I had this planed for another group but I’m lowkey too hyperfixated on nct soooo….(I blamed dream()scape). also if you never seen a gq couple quiz, here’s one of my favorite examples :)

⤹ ⊹ MARK LEE

✶ mark would have extreme confidence that he would get all the questions correct. at most, maybe one or two questions wrong but he wouldn’t sulk it off, he would more than likely say, “I knew that” or “that was my second guess, I swear”

✶ weirdly enough, he would get the much deeper, or “harder”, questions correct more than the basic questions like what’s your middle name or what’s your favorite color

✶ for the deeper questions he gets correct, he would constantly answer, “see, I told you I knew you baby” with his lil smirk or a sly smile

��� I think mark would almost always have a story attached majority of the questions you asked him. some are embarrassing, some have you giving a belly laugh, and some are sentimental. the sentimental ones, he’s holding eye contact with you, matching your smiles, and mouthing, ‘i love you’

✶ as for questions about him, he would let out an exaggerated sigh when you get them wrong. he would act so heartbroken and go on this dramatic ramble of how he thought his partner knew him

⤹ ⊹ HUANG RENJUN

✶ renjun is a shy lil thing for these types of interviews. quite nervous that he’ll get some wrong but confident enough that he’ll get most of them right. though, he does believe he’ll get more questions right than you will and he wasn’t wrong

✶ he would stand firm on the questions he got wrong that he thinks he got correct. he blames you that you never told him this information or that you’re a liar, sometimes side-eyes you before you say if he’s wrong or right. if he got it wrong, he would have hard evidence that he is correct and even state word for word on when you said the correct answer in the past

✶ as for questions about him, he would maybe allow bonus points. it depends on how many bonus questions you gave him, which would total how much or how little bonus points you get

✶ ngl, renjun can become a petty lil mf when it comes to his questions. he think it’s only right after the struggle you put him through answering some of those questions and fighting for his case

⤹ ⊹ LEE JENO

✶ slightly like mark and has extreme confidence that he’ll get every question right except….anyways ! it’s not that he’s an attentive bf (cause he is, trust !) but he’s truly shocked at how many he gets wrong. but at the same time, the ones he thinks he is wrong, he gets right ??? idk man. he knows who was your first best friend but doesn’t know your favorite meal…

✶ a lot of laughs are shared between the two of you cause it truly is funny at his reactions at whether or not he’s right. usually his jaw is dropped; if he’s right he nods his head in a slightly cocky manner but if he’s wrong, he shakes his head and curses himself

✶ but at the same time, you throw him some bonus points to help cause poor baby is not doing so good. in the end for the questions about you, he doesn’t do as bad but he believe that definitely isn’t his best and plans to be a better bf to you

✶ for questions about him, he assumes just about half the time that you won’t get this question right, and it could be the most basic questions anyone could easily answer. like why is mans shocked that you know his favorite artist and his favorite pastime…?

⤹ ⊹ LEE HAECHAN

✶ it turned from a cute quiz to a full blown competition. out of all of dream, his confidence is at an all time, always, when it comes to being the best boyfriend God can put on this earth. but oh do you have something planned for him

✶ haechan is more than a thousand percent confirmed that he’ll get all answers right and sits in his seat with such confidence. you roll your eyes and look through the questions as he continues to boast

✶ the questions were going good, ofc he was getting every single correct cause again, he’s the best (he prefers the term “perfect) you could ever have. until it’s questions that you may not know the answer to that starts to trip him. he thinks you’re pranking him, even after you assured him that you aren’t

✶ haechan would trip you up so you can forget the correct answers to your questions. a firm believer that haechan would sit in a certain position to have you gushing, you try to hide your smile while asking the question but it’s no use when he’s around

✶ though when it’s his turn to ask the question, he is absolutely terrible. he’ll throw in bonus questions to trip you up and when you get them wrong, he is so dramatic my goodness. he’s even worse than mark and think it’s the death of him that you don’t remember his comfort meal

⤹ ⊹ NA JAEMIN

✶ jaemin is actually mellow about his confidence for this couples quiz. he’s as confident as haechan but not nearly as bad as haechan can get. don’t get me wrong, he always assures that he’s the number one boyfriend material but thankfully know he’s not perfect

✶ I’d say out of all dream, jaemin would have I believe the third highest score. potentially a tie with renjun for second if he tries hard enough. he gets the easy and hard questions correct without breaking a sweat and sometimes throw in extra info for that question, just to show that he really is attentive

✶ throughout the quiz, he would blow air kisses and reach to grab your hand but you would think that he’s trying to cheat. which leads you to move it out of his reach and leaving him with a small pout

✶ another pouter on our hands guys ! he mostly pouts when he doesn’t get his bonus points or when you reject bonus points from him. no jaemin, you cannot get two bonus points just cause you named your partner’s dream career out of nowhere

✶ when it comes to jaemin’s questions, he is very nice about it and isn’t too harsh with the questions. though, he does throw some curveballs so prepared for that. he’ll go from what’s favorite movie to who’s the first person he talked to on the phone that day

⤹ ⊹ ZHONG CHENLE

✶ an actual comedy show when a couples quiz and chenle is combined. listen, he believes these questions doesn’t prove that he is a good boyfriend but he will do it just for the sake of you :p

✶ but at the same time, he will put on a game face and take this couples quiz veryyyy seriously. he refuses to even let a slim of doubt enter you just cause of a couple incorrect answers. I do believe as just as the amount of answers he gets correct, his ego gets stronger and you can tell from his stance

✶ though, (just like renjun) almost every answer he would get wrong, he would firmly believe that he is right. he’ll have you thinking that maybe YOU’RE the one with the wrong answer. he’ll do everything in his power to prove that he’s right and sometimes it gets a bit scary how hard he’s fighting for that point

✶ I would say that his score is pretty decent but he definitely could have done better. though after the interview, he’s still stuck on the questions he got wrong. cause wym your favorite ice cream isn’t cookies n cream ???? he literally saw you eat it last week

✶ now chenle giving you the questions….be prepared for a lot of sass, a lot of dramatic signs, and a lot of ‘I thought my partner knew me better mmcht’

⤹ ⊹ PARK JISUNG

✶ literally the best and most perfect companion for this quiz (yes I’m being biased, sue me). the man who would score the highest out of all seven boys but still keep a humble posture throughout the quiz. he blushes after you praise him for the amount he gets correct, which is all ofc :)

✶ sometimes he’ll be specific for certain questions, even after you told him he can keep it vague. he’ll go into detail of how your morning routine is set or little signs to show that you’re not in a talkative mood at the moment

✶ deeper questions are the ones that he is the most confident in, he mentally prepared himself for these type of questions. he’ll give reasons as to why you dislike this food or how you have a heavy distaste towards sports. starting to think it’s just jisung’s excuse to ramble about you

✶ as mentioned before, jisung isn’t as cocky as the members but internally, he knows he got this quiz in the bag. he stays humble and gushes on how much he got right

✶ for questions about himself, he’s one hundred percent sure that you’ll get majority correct. but he isn’t worked up if you were to get them wrong; instead, he lets a lighthearted ‘tsk’ and tells you the correct answer. he also reassures you that you still are a good partner to him, no matter how many you have gotten wrong :)

౨ৎ honestly shocked on how little time this took but I’m really happy with how it came out :)

౨ৎ lemme know if you guys want a 127 and/or wayv version of these hcs 😋

kisses to you all and God bless you 💗

© 𝟤𝟢𝟤𝟦 𝗌𝖺𝗂𝟦𝗎. 𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗋𝗂𝗀𝗁𝗍𝗌 𝗋𝖾𝗌𝖾𝗋𝗏𝖾𝖽

#₊˚꒰ 𝜗𝜚 ꒱‧xoxo .ᐟ : trin is writing #nct dream headcanons #nct dream fluff #mark lee x reader #mark lee fluff #mark lee x you #renjun x reader #renjun fluff #renjun x you #jeno x reader #jeno fluff #jeno x you #haechan x reader #haechan fluff #haechan x you #jaemin x reader #jaemin fluff #jaemin x you #chenle x reader #chenle fluff #chenle x you #park jisung x reader #park jisung fluff #park jisung x you #jisung x reader #nct jisung fluff #jisung x you #nct jisung x reader #nct jisung x you

[liyawritesss]

ɪ ʀᴇᴀʟʟʏ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴡʜᴀᴛ ʏᴏᴜ'ᴠᴇ ᴅᴏɴᴇ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴇ

Characters: Spider-Verse!Earth-42!Miles Morales [The Prowler] x Black!Fem!Reader

Type: Fic

Word Count: 1.9k

Synopsis: Miles tells his Uncle Aaron the real reason why he’ll always answer his phone for you.

Warnings: Cursing, no usage of [y/n] or second person perspective, brief mention of potential gun usage, old school gang terms (Aaron refers to a gun as a 'pole') I envisioned a late teen 42!Miles so he’s around 17-18 here, but still keep it cute this is lil cuz we talkin’ bout here!!!

A/N: I know I said that the previous fic would more than likely be my only attempt at 42!Miles but the ugly ass nigga is growing on me so…here yall go i guess

Song Suggestions: “So Into You” (Remix) by Sydney Renae; “LORD FORGIVE ME” by Tobe Nwigwe ft. Fat Nwigwe & Pharrell; “Run Tha Streetz” by Tupac, Storm, Mutah, Michel’le

Tags: @6-noir @babyboiboyega @badass-dora-milaje @jacuzziwaters @mbakuetshurisprincess @shuriszn @verachii @writingintheshadowsforever @cafehyunji @niyahwrites @pantherheart @marsfunzon22 @movie-enthusiast22 @famedrs-blog @briology @honeybleed @pnkweb

Sign Up For My Taglist Here!

It went without saying that if it didn’t pertain to family or business, Aaron wasn’t quite fond of the use of phones.

He had a real old school view on them; didn’t like how kids these days were always stuck nose deep into the devices. Of course, he came from a generation where a phone’s only use was to contact another person. He never got into the hype of the latest iPhones, nor did he understand the need for five different cameras attached to the device. The only benefit he saw with the rectangular device was that it made communication more prompt and precise (though he’d never admit that he appreciated being able to play any games he wanted, at his disposal, at any time he wished).

So, naturally, when Miles became old enough to engage in his ‘business’, the one rule Aaron posed that didn’t pertain to the ‘game’ was that him being on his phone was an absolute no-go.

“I ain’t got time for you to be distracted by that thing,” he’d said the very first night Aaron trusted the younger to bring him along, “if you gon’ be in, I need you to be all the way in. No half-assin’ this shit, you hear?”

And of course, Miles agreed, no matter how insufferable the first few weeks of patrol were when Aaron literally locked his cellular device in a safe back at the workshop. While it served to pry the connection the fifteen year old had with the device at the time, it was also his way of teaching Miles to not rely on the device for communication, prompting Miles to fortify new avenues of such. Aaron had a genius nephew, after all, and expected nothing less from the person who would soon take up his mantle as The Prowler.

Though, Aaron started to notice a shift in the practice behavior a few months ago, and it made him wonder had his teachings begun to fall short, even after a few years of the settled routine.

He’d notice the flexing of the younger’s arm whenever the faint buzz from the vibration of Miles’ phone sounded, no doubt squeezing the device in his pocket with his hand.

Aaron also was not ignorant to Miles’ dipping off to the side to answer a quick call in hushed tones, and the words used to address the other person on the line made it clear to the older man that it wasn’t Rio calling him, and it piqued Aaron’s curiosity even more.

Though, Aaron could never say anything, since Miles was sure to put his phone on do not disturb before heading out into the night, and the calls always remained under a minute or two, not taking too much time away from their very serious business. He found himself frustrated because Aaron couldn’t be mad at him for being responsible for his phone usage, despite his own feelings towards the usage of such devices. Yet, it irked him all the same when Miles would take a peek at his phone during a moment of down time, or when he’d caught the boy staring at his messages a couple of times during a debriefing session.

“Aye, c’mon man,” Aaron finally grumbles out one night, sucking his teeth at the sight of Miles tapping away on the brightly lit screen close to his face, illuminating his melanated features, “I need you outta that shit, we got work to do.”

“A’ight, a’ight,” says the younger as he finishes off a text, pocketing his phone and brushing past Aaron briskly, “just had to answer my girl real quick. I’m off it.”

“You better be,” Aaron scolds, “we need you at a’hunnid tonight, Miles. No excuses.”

Though Aaron wasn’t about to let Miles’ admission slip under the radar, the current task at hand was much more pressing than the revelation that his nephew was seeing someone. He’d have to play the father figure role after tonight's mission was complete.

It’s when the deepest shade of midnight blue begins to fade into faint purple hues that Aaron is able to bring up the conversation once again. He tries to make it light, but over the years, his smooth talk has become just as rustic as his Prowler skills. “I’m gon’ have to bring the safe out again if I keep seein’ that phone, Miles.”

The echo of the younger sucking his teeth in annoyance doesn’t fly past Aaron’s head. It’s the response he expected from his nephew. He turns around from his work desk to face the younger, leaning against one of the many concrete pillars that keep the building intact.

“I’m serious, boy,” Aaron asserts, “you been on that phone a lil’ too much lately, man. I’on like it.”

Miles scratches the side of his face; he knows he doesn’t have much of a good excuse to use as to why his eyes have been more on his phone as of late. Well, not an excuse Aaron would find plausible anyway.

“A’ight, Unc. I’ll chill.”

It’s not the exact response that Aaron expects, but if Miles says that he’ll watch his phone activity, the older believes him. The younger has no reason to lie to him, anyway.

A beat passes before Aaron starts again, crossing to the middle of the room where the large, red punching bag.

“So, is she a good distraction,” he muses with a knowing look, “or do I gotta be worried that she gon’ take your head out the game?”

The younger pauses for a second, braids dancing along his shoulder. Then, a lopsided grin spreads across his lips as his head tilts to the side, his eyes wandering. Aaron knows that kind of look. It’s the look of a boy high on love, and from the way Miles fiddles with the hair at the nape of his neck, Aaron can deduct that it’s that good loving, too. The kind of loving that Rio gave Jefferson, and it stole the late brother’s heart. It warms his heart to see his nephew sport a look that someone his age should.

“She’s good.” Miles says. “She’s…real good, Tio. Too good, probably.”

Aaron hums in response, the sound coming from the depths of his throat as he pauses, taking in a breath. “Do she know?”

It’s a hard question to ask; Aaron doesn’t want to blow his nephew’s high, but it’s a necessary one to ask. For the safety of all parties involved.

Miles’ smile falters in the slightest, teeth tugging at his bottom lip as his eyes cast downward.

“She know I do shit on the low. Not…all this, though.” And from the tone in Miles’ voice, he, too, knows that it’s better this way.

The older begins to walk towards the stairs to exit the workshop building, gesturing to Miles to follow, “Good.”

Aaron thinks back to when he first remembers the diversion of behavior started. Although it wasn’t and never became aggressive, it started with Miles casually peeking at his phone every now and then, maybe once or twice throughout the whole night the two were set together. He puts two and two together, his head nodding to the conclusion he’d drawn.

“So it’s her you be textin’?” Aaron asks, descending the stairs.

The younger nods, following in tow, “Just lettin’ her know that I’ma be out and can’t answer the phone, shit like that.”

“And when she do call?”

A light, dry chuckle escapes Miles’ lips at the question. “She just be askin’ me shit.”

“Shit like what?” Aaron muses, twisting the knob to the door leading outside, opening it to reveal purple hues slowly fading into peach in the sky. “What color nails for her to get? Password to the Netflix?”

They get to the car, but the silence that takes place during the short time it takes to approach the older’s vehicle answers his own question before Miles does.

“Yeah, actually,” the younger voice, arms folding atop the car roof, leaning against the sleek black metal as he looks at his uncle, “and the color for her peek-a-boo braids; and if it’s okay if she eats my leftover takeout; and if I can hang up her wall art thingy when I come by-”

“-so what you’re saying is, she’s clingy?” The older’s eyebrows furrow in amusement and slight confusion - the way Miles speaks about the isolated experiences has him questioning what kind of girl his nephew was actually dating.

“You know what’s crazy, though, Tio?” The younger poses, pulling the handle to the passenger car door when he hears the click, signifying Aaron unlocking the vehicle finally. “She’s not clingy like that; it’s somethin’ else.”

“You’re losin’ me, kid.” The older chuckles, closing his door once he’s settled inside the driver's seat.

Miles sucks his teeth, tongue poking the inside of his cheek in thought, and Aaron can tell that the younger is trying to find the right words to distinguish what he means.

“I hear guys say that shit like that is annoying,” Miles begins, tugging at the hem of his shirt to pull it down from riding up his toned stomach, “but it ain’t like that to me. She asks me all these things; think maybe it’s because she feels safe enough to ask them of me. And if she feel like I got the answers for her, then-”

The younger stops mid-sentence, contemplating how to proceed with his explanation. Yet, Aaron is all ears, listening intently. Quite frankly, it’s the most he’s heard Miles talk about anything in a long time - his rambling reminds him of the old Miles that once was, before the unfortunate.

Then, the younger takes a deep breath, reclines back into his seat, legs spread in the slightest for comfortability, his hands running the length of his thighs, “Ionno, Unc. Makes me feel good, I guess.”

And in that moment, Aaron’s vision blurs for a second. He can’t tell if it’s Miles sitting in the passenger seat, or if it’s his late brother. Perhaps it's the glare of the sun in his eyes…perhaps it’s Aaron actually seeing the soul of Jefferson shine through his son in the early morning sunlight that dances across his melanated skin.

A hum passes through the older’s throat as he starts the car up, the sound of the engine revving through the silence that settled within the car. Aaron clears his throat before speaking again, “I’ma tell you what I told your pops about your moms, kid.”

Miles turns his head from the window to face his uncle, who shifts the car from parked to drive, hand sitting at the top of the steering wheel. 

“If she make you feel good, the kinda good you know you can’t get anywhere else, and if she make you feel like a man; you keep her close.” Aaron hums. His lips tug upwards when the younger gives a subtle nod in return.

“I’m serious now, Miles. Don’t be like yo’ daddy.” Aaron reiterates as he pulls his foot off the brakes, turning the steering wheel and pressing down on the gas to drive out of the parking lot. “Dumbass almost lost ya moms cuz he ain’t wanna listen-”

“A’ight, a’ight, I got you,” the younger replies, “I’on think she goin’ anywhere no way, though.”

“Good.” Aaron affirms. “If she know of the kinda game you in, then she need to know how to work somethin’, too. Make sure she can hold you down properly.”

“I’on know about that, Unc,” Miles replies, “she too much of a good girl for that.”

“Shit, good girls work the best poles, boy. Don’t get the game twisted.”

“Unc, no one says ‘poles’ in reference to guns anymore.” The younger says through a chuckle as the two drive off down the street, the purples in the sky now fading into a pretty golden hue that casts over the city that never sleeps.

#black reader #black tumblr #black spiderman #spiderman #spiderman itsv #spiderman btsv #spiderman atsv #spiderman into the spiderverse #spiderman across the spiderverse #spiderman beyond the spiderverse #spiderman atsv x black!reader #spiderman atsv x reader #spiderman x reader #miles morales prowler #prowler miles morales #prowler miles #earth 42 miles x black reader #earth 42 miles morales x reader #42!miles x reader #42!miles morales x reader #earth 42 miles fluff #earth 42 miles morales x black!reader

[rafeandonlyrafe]

pizza night

words: 2.2k

warnings: mentions/implications of sex but no actual smut, best friend!rafe, jealousy, angst but happy ending, friends to lovers, rafe with another girl, reader sleeps with kelce

“PIZZA NIGHT!” you shout, rafe letting out a whoop as you carry in the two boxes, plain cheese for you, and a mess of toppings for rafe.

“was worried you weren't gonna show up.” rafe glances at the clock. you're only about five minutes late, only running behind because the pizza place was busy and your order wasn't ready on time.

“as if i would miss our weekly pizza night.” you roll your eyes. you've had to shift times around occasionally to make sure you get the pizza night in, like for rafes football schedule, or you having to help your parents out at a fundraiser. for the past three years, it's been every thursday night, even both getting pizza from your respective locations while you facetime when you're not both in the outer banks.

“come here.” rafe opens his arms up to you. you step into his familiar hold, strong arms wrapping around you, tugging you against his chest. you inhale his scent, so uniquely rafe.

he's been your best friend for as long as you can remember, your parents being friends when both became pregnant around the same time. you did everything together. pizza nights started as plum puree, as your mom loves to joke.

“what do you wanna watch tonight?” rafe asks, knowing whatever you put on will soon become background noise to your chatting, rafe happy to listen to any gossip you have to say.

“umm…” you tap your finger against your chin as rafe plates your pizza for you, loading his plate with three slices for himself. you know he's already got your preferred drink sitting on the coffee table. “mulan.”

“sure.” rafe nods. he used to argue when he was younger. you'd want barbie swan lake or a romcom while he prefered superheroes and action. he learned throughout your friendship to just not fight it.

you immediately start to tell rafe the latest gossip, filling him in on everything he's missed since you saw him last, even though it was only two days ago.

“oh and you'll never guess!” you squeal. “callie, my friend from florida?” you see if the name jogs rafes memory, which he quickly nods. how could he forget. the one other friend that competes with him, despite you only seeing her for weeks at a time when you went to visit your grandparents in florida. “she's coming to the outer banks! she's gonna stay with us for the summer while her parents travel.”

“oh, nice.” rafe nods. he's happy for you, he really is, but he hopes she's not going to get in the way of his time with you, especially pizza night.

--

“girl, why didn’t you tell me rafe is hot as fuck?” callie giggles, looking out the window where rafe and a couple of his friends are chatting on the patio.

“ew.” you scrunch your nose up. you mean the criticism about callie finding him attractive, not about rafes looks, but callie doesn’t take it that way as she rolls her eyes.

“seriously, he’s so fine.” she slices into another lemon, handing one half to you as you squeeze it to make fresh lemonade.

you just frown. you don’t want callie to find rafe attractive and you’re not sure why the jealous feeling builds in your gut, so you quickly change the subject.

“wanna come to a party friday night? at kelces.” you question.

“oh my god, yes.” callie nods, helping you carry out cups while you bring out the pitcher of lemonade, pouring a glass for yourself and whichever one of your friends also wants one before sitting next to rafe.

callie takes the open spot on the other side of him as the conversation instantly strikes back up. you remain quieter than normal, eyes flicking between them as you watch them interact. you’re glad they’re getting along, truly, but you feel like gouging your eyes out when callie laughs and places her hand on his bicep.

“you okay?” rafe asks after everyone else had gone home, callie having taken your car back to your place to shower while you plan on asking rafe to drive you home.

“yeah.” you put on a wide smile. “whats up?”

“you just seem quieter than usual.” rafe watches your face carefully, noting the way your face falls before you perk back up with a shake of your head.

“nope, im fine. just glad you're getting along with callie!”

“speaking of…” rafe pulls his phone out, handing it to you. “can i have her number?”

“oh… yeah.” you nod quickly, grabbing his phone and typing in her number. you have it memorized along with rafes and your mom and dads, the only ones you’ve typed in enough to know by heart. “why do you want it though?”

“i thought i’d get to know her a bit.” rafe shrugs. 

“okay.” you force a smile on your face before standing up. “im gonna walk home. see you thursday for pizza night!”

“y/n, wait-” rafe tries to call you back, but you’ve already disappeared into the house.

--

you struggle to knock on the door with the pizza boxes in your arms. usually its unlocked, or rafe is there to open it for you the second your car pulls in the driveway.

“shit.” rafe opens the door, his face pale.

“what?” you shove past him, needing to set the cardboard boxes down.

you walk into the kitchen, going to place the boxes down on the counter when you realize there is already a box sitting there, opened up with a couple slices missing. you carefully slide the boxes out of your arms onto the marble before looking at rafe.

“i-i forgot-” rafe says as you look into the living room, seeing callie sat on the couch, her eyes on the television screen as she takes a bite of pizza. 

“you forgot about our pizza night?” you question, not even trying to hide your tears this time as they form in your eyes.

“i just didn’t realize it was thursday, y/n i-”

“its fine.” you shake your head, heading towards the door. you need to leave before your emotions explode. 

“y/n, please.” rafe grabs your hand right as you reach for the doorknob.

“no.” you turn around to look at rafe, knowing that there are tears streaming down your cheeks, yet you still attempt to force a smile. “no, go. have fun with her.”

you pull out of his grasp and leave, rafe standing on the front porch watching you drive away.

--

“coming to the party?” callie asks, wearing a tiny dress with high heels, showing off her flawless legs.

“nah.” you shake your head. “im feeling kinda tired.” 

“alright.” callie frowns, but doesn’t push you any farther as she walks towards the front door, looking back once before leaving. 

you are genuinely tired. you stayed up all last night waiting to hear callie arrive back at your house from rafes. she didn’t get home until 10 in the morning the next day. you know rafe has slept with girls before, but usually when he’s way too drunk after a party, and never with a girl you considered your friend.

you turn the tv on to a random channel, just needing something to distract yourself and stop you from crying again.

hours tick by as the sun sets, your eyes burning from staring at the television and holding back tears when a sudden knock on the door makes you jump.

you stand up, hoping its rafe, hoping he’s coming to apologize and to put all his attention back on you. you feel bad when you open the door and see its topper, your face no doubt giving away your disappointment.

“y/n, are you okay?” he asks. “you aren’t at the party.” he states the obvious as you stand in your sweatpants and a flimsy tanktop.

“just not feeling it.” you shrug. 

“is it… callie and rafe?” topper asks. he doesn’t need you to confirm as tears well in your eyes.

“i-i like him. i didn’t even realize until i saw them together.” you finally admit it to yourself why you’re so upset. 

“shit.” topper pulls you into a hug as you cry into his shirt, glad for his comfort as he rubs his hand up and down your back, hoping he can help you feel better.

“i shouldn’t be telling you this…” topper sighs. “but kelce has a crush on you. if you want to go to the party and… i don’t know, make rafe jealous back.”

“he won’t get jealous.” you shake your head. “he likes her.”

topper just stares at you with a look of pity. so in your head about your friendship that you can’t even put together the pieces that rafe likes you back.

you look down at your outfit. honestly, you can’t even manage to put on anything other than your crocs, you’re not going to change into a dress and heels just to dance up on a guy you don’t even really like.

“just come wearing that.” topper says, sensing your apprehension. “im serious, you look good. it’ll show how different you are then all the other girls there.”

you look back into your house at your couch, the tv still turned on before looking back to topper. he nods at you with encouragement.

“i need to get drunk immediately.” you tell him as he laughs, pulling you out the door.

--

you let out a groan as you turn over, snuggling into water warm body is wrapped around you as sleep slowly clears from your head.

“good morning, beautiful.” kelce says, making you blink your eyes open as the memories of last night come back, of ignoring rafe and callie dancing together as you move to kelce. topper was beyond right about the outfit as you captured the eye of most of the guys there, especially rafe as he tried to get your attention, but you were up in kelces room before he could steal you away.

it felt good to sleep with kelce, but not completely right.

“morning.” you smile. kelce is handsome, especially with the warm morning light shining in on the two of you, but your heart hurts as you wish it was rafes face you were looking into.

“can i have you again?” kelce asks, reaching down to grab your ass.

“yeah.” you nod with a smile. another distraction won’t hurt.

--

“where were you?” rafe asks as you arrive home, not expecting to see him snuggled up to callie on the couch.

“sleeping with kelce.” you say with a shrug. if rafe isn’t gonna hide his relationship with callie, you certainly aren’t going to hide what you were doing either.

“he doesn’t care about you, y/n.” rafe stands up, callies face shifting to one of worry as she looks between the two of you, realization sinking in. “he just wants to sleep with you.”

“okay, and?” you laugh, a bitter, spiteful laugh. “he’s got a big dick, and maybe i just wanted to sleep with him too.” 

you stomp away towards your room, blaring music from your speaker the second you’re inside. you don’t want to hear any noise rafe and callie might make as you flop down on your bed, quickly falling asleep despite the blaring music.

--

the music being turned down wakes you up as someone sits on your bed. you groan and turn onto your back, expecting to see rafe.

“callie?” you question, glancing at the bag slung over his shoulder and the suitcase sitting in your open doorway. 

you sit up quickly. “are you going to stay with rafe?”

“no.” she says with a gentle laugh and shake of her head. “im going back to florida.”

“what?” you question. 

“i didn’t mean to come between you and him. i thought you didn’t like him. i… i don’t want this to ruin our friendship, so i’m leaving. he was fun to be with, but it was never serious for either of us. he’s serious about you.”

the words sink in as you look to her with hope in your eyes. “you talked to him about it?”

“i did.” she smiles with a gentle nod, glancing towards the clock on your nightstand. “the taxi is waiting outside to take me to the airport.”

you shoot forward to wrap your arms around callie, pulling her into a tight hug. “thank you.” 

“of course.” she holds you back just as tight. “come visit me in florida, okay?” 

you nod enthusiastically before she gets up to leave. 

--

“finally.” topper sighs with relief as he opens the door to tanneyhill. “i’ve been trying to get him to go over and talk to you for the past four hours.” topper pulls you inside before you can even react. “seriously, you guys just need to date already. he slept with callie, you slept with kelce, and now you’re even. go make out.” topper shoves you into the living room before fleeing.

it takes a second for rafe to look up, his eyes red with tears.

“i had no clue.” rafe shakes his head. “i had no clue you liked me. i never would have done anything with callie if i knew. i thought i’d never get to have you, so i thought settling for your friend would be the next best thing.”

“i don’t like you.” you say before quickly clarifying. “i love you, rafe.”

rafe is standing and making his way towards you so quickly that you don’t even process his movements until his lips meet yours in a fierce kiss.

you hesitate for a moment before kissing back, feeling his arms wrap around your body, holding you tight to him, not allowing you to escape or leave ever again.

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[guav]

Hiii!!! Can I request a girlfriend Rindou reader, where Tenjiku doesn't even know he has a girlfriend like Ran doesn't even know, and so she meets Tenjiku, and she can fight really really good and she's like PRETTY PRETTY and like how...? Did RINDOU EVEN GET HER? And she stars to catch other members eyes ;)

ᥫ᭡ for haitani rindou and tenjiku, WAREHOUSE ROMCOM.

in which you insist on meeting your boyfriend's current gang and fuck, you definitely just knocked out one of their captains.

𔘓 it's my first time writing for some of these guys so i'm sorry if they're ooc D: you used she/her and mentioned girlfriend so i'll be using those for this fic :] around 3.1k words of chaos.

“rin, how come i’ve never met any of your friends?” 

the timing doesn’t allow for a deep conversation. rindou’s too busy messing with his laptop, one earbud immersing him in whatever program was running. meanwhile, a catalog resting on your lap took half your attention.

as expected, the question is around the fifth priority in rindou’s head. “buncha smelly thugs, you wouldn’t like ‘em.”

“and you’re not in that demographic?” you idly munch on some snacks you scavenged from his pantry. 

“no, i’m not.” rindou scoffs like you just spat on his entire bloodline. “i’m your handsome boyfriend who you love very, very much.”

oh, this sweater has a really nice discount. “what about your brother? i've never seen him either, i’m starting to think you’re actually an only child.”

he’s gonna pretend like his comment going ignored didn’t sting a little. 

“you should be grateful, once you meet ran you’ll be cursed with a killer headache for the rest of your life.”

somehow it doesn’t seem as bad, nor does it deter you in the slightest. whine all he wants, rindou loves his brother. he knows it, and so do you.

“rinnie.” a vein could very well pop out his head at the dumb nickname. “are you embarrassed of me?”

(you know rindou would kiss the floor you walk on. still? good leverage).

his typing halts, left earbud joining the right to hang around his neck. a thousand times of the same coercion tactics should have prepared him better. should have. be as it may, rindou’s heartbeat stops for a minute.

you’re the one good thing he’s got going on, why would he ne embarrassed of you? no, never, he loves you too much.

not like he’d willingly admit to it, though. “a little” his typing resumes, this time a little more attentive to the situation. safety measures and all that.

seems he’s not budging. the playful banter turns into a bitter taste in your mouth. “rude.”

rindou doesn’t like your sudden silence. it cuts at his facade like the dullest of knives—painfully slow.

he can’t win against you. if there's one more thing he hates more than sweaty gym equipment is getting on your bad side.

“i’m not embarrassed, you’re just too pretty for them.” it’s not a lie.

“flattery won’t save you from sleeping on the couch.”

he’s in his own home, it's his couch and bed. “if i take you to meet them once,” rindou emphasizes the word, “will you be pleased?”

you would, “a little.”

works for him.

rindou groans like the sore loser he is, yet hands you an earbud. “whatever, don’t come cryin’  when you realize they're actually lame."

secretly, he prays you don't like them better than him.

"they're your friends—or gang, i'm guessing—i would never think bad of them."

aren't you just a godsend? rindou breathes a chuckle, pressing play. whatever wrinkles remained on his face washed away when you bobbed your head to his mix. he forgives you for being a pain in his ass.

everything’s fair in love and war; you came and conquered with ease. as implicit as he fights to keep it, rindou's a big softie for you.

you lean over to kiss his temple, maybe you’ll buy that sweater you saw for this special occasion.

just this once, punctuality would be the death of you.

the only street light a couple meters away flickers every two minutes, you’ve got no service, and the run-down warehouse you’re leaning on is the shadiest spot rindou’s asked you to meet at. seriously, what’s his issue?

“little late for someone like you to be out alone, isn’t it?” couldn’t have said it better, voice you've never heard before.

..wait.

with a gulp, you turn to meet whoever was talking to you. it’s not the least comforting when you have to look up to see his face. tall, weird eyebrows, and overall menacing.

for once in your goddamn life, think!

“yeah—i mean, it must suck to be alone in the dead of night.” you laugh nervously, as if to quell the goosebumps rising in your arms. “not me though, nope.”

mochi squints his eyes. you can’t be serious, right? there’s no one else in the entire block. “‘s that so?”

one gulp to hush your anxiety. “yup, my boyfriend’s waiting for me, if i don’t show he’ll come looking,” great, now you’re shaking. 

he’s not gonna buy it. this is the end, death by two hands the size of your head. truly tragic.

“only a shitty boyfriend would leave you all alone like this,” he huffs. it’s true, part of him wants to wait and chew out whoever this man is. 

safe to say, you have to agree. rindou is a dead man as soon as he shows his face, and it won’t be at the hands of this monster of a guy.

blame it on your current hyperfocus on every little thing (something’s gotta make up for your obvious lack of fight or flight) you can’t help but notice he’s wearing all red—is that a gang uniform?

funny how hope goes out as quick as that.

rindou’s uniform is most definitely not red. the fight bound to unleash is already brewing inside your mind, you’re not even sure if rindou can take a hit from this guy. if he ever gets here, only one of these two would walk away. 

you have to act, fast.

“it’s not safe, what’s a thing like you gonna do if—”

he makes the mistake of looking into your eyes. they’re wide, like a deer caught in headlights; innocent.

mochizuki’s second mistake is not noticing the right hook you swing.

the light flickers again, and one of tenjiku’s heavenly kings falls unconscious.

it goes without saying you fucking panic.

“i didn't mean to—shit!” you’re kneeling beside his body, checking for pulse. of course there's still a pulse, there’s no way you could actually kill a guy like that. “i’m so, so sorry.”

he didn’t even try to hurt you. are you the monster here? 

initially, you were worried rindou would be the one to start a fight if he saw you cornered by the guy. never would you have thought the culprit would be none other than yourself.

quickly, your sweater becomes a makeshift pillow—the least you could do for knocking the living daylights out of him. though you do cringe when the brand-new fabric soaks up all the dirt on the ground.

it’s okay, surely once he wakes again you can explain you didn’t mean to hit him. you were aiming for… a fly? a mosquito? those can carry deadly diseases. sure, let’s go with that.

kakucho doesn’t know what he just walked into.

there’s a stranger kneeling beside mochi whispering in a fret to herself, something about the last recorded case of dengue fever in japan. right, he was also unconscious.

soon, you notice him too. particularly his red uniform.

there’s a brief pause in which you just stare at each other.

come to think of it, you’d probably kick the bucket in these clothes, and you wouldn’t mind. dying with these on would be something you can live with—or die, rather? idioms are dumb. point is, you picked a really nice outfit for your supposed date with rindou. 

rindou haitani, who somehow managed to be late enough to miss you picking a fight with another gang member.

the silence is deadly. 

“you’re… his friend, right?” cautiously, you’re the one to break it. “i figured he'd appreciate a pillow to enjoy his nap.”

so why was his cheek painted a raging red? god, that’s a nasty bruise.

kakucho blinks twice. then, he looks around, trying to discern any other lifeform in close vicinity. any possible culprit. anything to explain what the fuck is going on.

“are you alone?” the question is courtesy, he already knows the answer. 

“no.” maybe he didn’t know after all.

he narrows his eyes, and you rush to fix whatever mistake you made. “my boyfriend—and friends, so many friends, are waiting on me. they’ll know if i don’t show up.”

you’re nervous. kakucho steps closer, and you’re quick to jump on your feet. “you’re right, i should probably go—”

“did you do this?”

“do what?”

as if it wasn’t obvious, he waves his arm at his fallen friend. “this.”

it’s been a long night. you’re frustrated, terrified out of your goddamn mind, and you can’t help the panic tears that start to form.

“i’m so sorry!” you bow, trying to hold back from outright sobbing in front of the delinquent. “he—i was alone, and he came around and-and started talking to me and i just, i got scared!”

kakucho blinks, again. 

“i didn’t mean to hurt him, i’m sure he’s a great guy, i was just jumpy, and fuck i didn't mean to cause any trouble.”

tears run down your cheeks, mourning both your sweater as a breeze rolls by and your wasted last moments of youth. great, you’re making it awkward. 

sometimes instincts take over, and kakucho is unsure why he’s shrugging off his tenjiku coat. neither does he have an answer as to why he reached to drape it over your shoulders.

“c’mon, just breathe.”

you do. you take a deep, deep breath, and your problems start to lessen. not actually though, the other gang member is still very much on the ground. however, it's nice not feeling in immediate danger anymore.

kakucho settles down next to mochi, and pats the ground next to him. “sit.”

last thing he tasked you ended up helping, so you decide to listen once more. a respectable distance away from him, you sit.

he’s not sure where to start. there’s so many questions he needs the answer to.

(how did you take out mochi? how did you know the exact warehouse where the higher-ups were meeting tonight?)

but he keeps quiet. 

either way, any explanations coming from you would be interrupted by hiccuping, and he didn’t want to risk any more crying from you.

“am i in trouble?”

the answer should be obvious. kakucho knows you’re aware of the mess you’re in now. still, there must be something missing. “i can count with one hand the people who’ve been able to take mochi out.”

so that’s his name. your gaze lands on him, peacefully resting. it’s a nice name. 

“so i need you to be honest,” kakucho tries his best to speak gently. “did you do this?”

he takes in a sharp breath when you nod.

“...how?”

the strained chuckle that leaves your lips makes his heart skip a beat or two. “i just, y’know, hit him.”

“but, how?” the mere thought is baffling to him.

“i can show you if you want.” you bite back. it’s playful. now you can cross-out befriending a random delinquent from your bucket list.

“never thought i’d see kakucho flirting.” a new voice enters the array. “didn’t know he had it in him.”

white hair flows freely, unfazed by the unresponsive commander beside the two. his presence exudes commands without diction. explain, now.

kakucho’s posture stiffens, and he’s quick to get back on his feet. “i arrived and mochi was knocked out, seemingly by,” he pauses to look at you. “uh, what’s your name?”

you match his movements, standing up and completely ignoring his question. “i’m really sorry about that, i didn’t know he was—”

izana interrupts the meaningless spiel, “your name, what is it?"

shivers crawl up your spine. a phantom would be more merciful with the frighten. so you answer his question.

and just like that, poor mochi is forgotten. "i like your name, it's nice on the ears."

you know better than to grimace at the compliment (was it really?) "i should get going, i don't want to be in your hair any longer."

izana follows your every movement with violet eyes. not a word is uttered, just a plastered, quite unsettling smile on his face as acknowledgment. 

right, your idiot boyfriend. one quick glance at the no signal on your phone serves as a reminder you're stranded.

a jingle brings you back to reality. it's izana, tilting his head. "what's wrong?"

well, you're certain all trains back home stopped doing rounds about half an hour ago, and there’s no way you can catch a ride from either of these two.

(the guy with the scar would probably do it, he seems kind. the urge to squish his cheeks like a grandma would is intense.)

"actually," an awkward laugh makes up for the nerves rattling within. "i.. can't leave, not yet."

his patience is wearing thin, you presume. "is that so?"

from behind you, kakucho shifts. would they even go for a one on two? when you're the one wearing heels?

"i told kakucho—" you glance back to confirm you remembered his name correctly, biting back a smile when he looks surprised. "—i was waiting for my friends and boyfriend, specifically at this exact, dirty warehouse." 

izana doesn't look satisfied. 

"half of that was a lie, it's just my boyfriend i'm supposed to meet." this doesn't seem to be getting any better. 

he's thinking about something.

"i know i shouldn't have lied, but it's basic street smarts! can't blame me for that." 

he steps closer, seemingly having resolved whatever idea was brewing in his head.

you're close to going on another rant on street safety, or maybe going for another swing, but izana makes you stop dead in your tracks. "do you wanna be kakucho's girlfriend?"

smelly thugs was cutting it short, this guy was bizarre as fuck.

kakucho is grateful you don’t have eyes on the back of your head. tenjiku’s number two, overwhelmed with a barrage of embarrassment and murderous tendencies for his one and only king.

(was he that obvious? were his fleeting glances that easy to notice?)

izana on the other hand had only just begun his career as a salesman. “kakucho here is a great guy—the definition of a gentleman and a picture-perfect servant.” 

odd way of selling someone for a boyfriend. you’d have a few pointers and even additions to his pitch, except you literally have a boyfriend, and you’ve told him so.

you check for the hour. maybe you’ll consider his proposal if kakucho isn’t horrid with meeting on time. “go on.”

two heavenly kings have yet to show their faces, another is knocked out, and the last is close to digging himself an early grave.

“so you’ll date kakucho then?”

has he heard a single word you’ve spoken? “i have a boyfriend.”

“it’s a yes or no question, preferably yes or yes.”

it’s better if you ignore the vague implication of a threat behind his statement. “rain check?”

that seems to please him. “i’m izana,” he offers his hand for a handshake. “pleasure doing business with you.”

“cool.” you’re absolutely sure he’s missing a screw in his head, but it’s funny. 

“too late to join the roster?” to absolutely no one’s surprise, it’s a new voice joining this sick joke of a night. you’re amazed at the fact four men have managed to show up unannounced to your date, and none are the one you're actually going out with.

izana turns to meet the new addition, eyebrow raising at the fact it’s only half the duo. 

“he’s finding a spot to park, sent me to check on that one over there.” one hand points to you, the other toys with a dual-colored braid. 

he’s clad in a black uniform—just like rindou’s. everything's even more confusing now, hurray you!

kakucho, who’s more than grateful to leave the past conversation behind, begins to process the situation. “you know ran?”

“ran?” puzzle pieces are slowly coming together. “as in haitani? ran haitani?”

the man himself lets out a low whistle. “sorry man, only been here for at least half a minute and i’m already takin' the spotlight—nothing personal.”

that’s not how you meant it at all. “no-”

“kakucho gave her his jacket.” izana you are not helping. 

“that has nothing to do with this.” kakucho pleads to everything under the sun for his boss to just, shut up. just this once.

“ran, where’s ri-”

“see? already reeling back to me, i think i've got more game than you.” rindou was right, he’s a living headache. 

izana tugs at your blouse. “you already said yes on kakucho, no take backs.”

“that never happened.” kakucho, angel on earth, everyone.

something boils from within. "i have a boyfriend."

“you’re too pretty for him.” he blurts without an ounce of hesitation in his body. it’s amusing how ran said the same thing as rindou—they really are family. still, no. does he even know you're dating his brother? 

the situation is getting out of hand, your patience is being tested, and you just want to go home at this point. 

at this rate you’re sending ran home with half his braids in your fist, izana is getting his arm put in a cast if he utters another word, and kakucho is getting his jacket back and a pat on the head.

there are a few reasons you’re dating rindou haitani. among the perks lies the telepathic bond you two have—whatever you think, rindou is already doing. which is exactly why ran is suddenly getting his braid damn near ripped out by gloved hands.

“wanna say that again?” rindou holds the hair tightly in a fist, he’s fuming. “c'mon, don’t pussy out now.”

the three of you gawk at the scene. kakucho and you in shock, izana in awe. the man of the hour arrived, and everything took a turn for the worse.

the youngest haitani has always followed his older brother like a best friend and inspiration. it’s a relationship based on respect for the other and no one else. sure, they have disagreements, but rindou admires no one more than ran. 

the haitani brothers, joined at the hip by crime and blood, now tearing each other apart in the pettiest of ways.

ran, tallest, oldest, arguably strongest, hisses in pain by the harsh tugging. “why dontcha rip it out while y’re fucking at it? whatever got into you?”

izana pokes a finger into your side for the second time. “you know rindou?”

your eyes are glued on the brothers. ran keeps whining, rindou is professing his undying and very much ongoing love for you. “yeah, we’re dating.”

a pause. a long one at that. 

“...why?” he sounds puzzled.

rindou screams insults at ran and soon drags his hair-stylist through the mud too, for some reason. “what do you mean by that?”

izana blinks at you like the answer is obvious. “is he like, forcing you or something?”

“what?”

kakucho, who’s been silently witnessing the convo fights to stifle his laughter. it’s of no use, not when you’re throwing his jacket back at his face to shush him. it’s a strong throw, sending him backwards a step or two.

izana thinks you’re funny, too. “you are too pretty for him.”

⠀⠀⠀⠀navi.⠀＆⠀m.list.⠀＆⠀send me an ask!

#ok i had fun writing this one #rindou x reader #tokyo revengers x reader #tenjiku x reader #izana x reader #ran x reader #kakucho x reader #rindou haitani #izana kurokawa #kakucho hitto #ran haitani #tokyo rev x reader #tr x reader #tenjiku #ROGUEL1KE #fem reader #female reader

[bubbbii]

Silence

title : Silence

pairing : Jungkook x Reader

genre : smut, jungkook smut, kpop smut

warning : spanking, multiple orgasms, dirty talk, degrading, choking, fingering, spitting, daddy kink, very dirty content

summary : 5 days…and you’ve been ignoring your fiancée, Jungkook, since he’s been so busy it wouldn’t occur to you that Jungkook would notice the treatment you were giving him. But after coming back from a dinner full of friends, he decides to finally giving you his full attention..and more.

[REQUESTED]

!PURELY FICTION! !NOT REAL!

do not steal story or idea without permission please thank uu :))

Let’s go <3

_________________________________________________________

I sighed, running my hands through my hair at the long night we’ve had as my fiancée closed the door behind us. I put my purse on the glass table in the living room, kicking off my heels and made my way to the kitchen to get a water. It is true, that i’ve been ignoring Jungkook all week because he decided to put his work before me…

So why not put my needs as a whole before him :).

I mean it’s not like i haven’t been doing that for the last 4 years, it’s just i’m doing things that i will do when i’m single. And he hates that. I’m not going overboard, never, but you wanna put work before your love than fuck it. And I won’t hesitate to go, overboard.

I felt his presence in the room as i gulped half of the bottle to wash down the 3 glasses of wine I had throughout the night. I turned around, putting the bottle on the big marble counter and saw that he leaned against it as well, resting his arms. I felt his eyes on me, but I wasn’t gonna say or do anything..it’s not my job to yet. “So..they will be coming over for the weekend. They’re just gonna stop by and grab a couple of things” I hummed, nodding in agreement as i dunked the rest of the water down and threw it in the trash can.

“Y/N, talk” I looked at him with an eyebrow raised as he raised one also. “What?” “Oh don’t get like that” “Get like what?” “How you’re acting” “Oh shut up you weren’t saying that shit when you were locked up in that godamn office all week AND last week” I snapped, going toward the living room with him following me. “So this is what this about?!” “THIS IS EXACTLY WHAT THIS IS ABOUT!” I yelled at him, crossing my arms. “You go low i go lower” “By ignoring me!?” “Bingo” He huffed at my smartness, going towards the cabinet to get coasters for our friends.

As he stood there, I put them on the table, then finally looked up to meet him in the eye. “So?” “So? What - what do you want me to do? You love your work I’ve noticed!” “Y/n don’t be like that-“ “OH WELL IM BEING LIKE THAT-“ “JEON Y/N!” I got token back at Jungkook’s raw voice that filled the room. We were inches away from each other as irritation showed on his face. “Don’t yell at me” He said, bringing his voice down. He never yells…like never.

And not gonna lie..it turns me on.

I gulped, clearing my throat as I looked at him. “..my bad” He sighed, cracking his neck side to side before slowly snaking his tatted hand around my neck. “What do you want hm? What do you want- you want dick? Are you craving dick is that what you want? I know exactly what you want i’ve known you long enough to know what your desires are - you want dick. Yes or no” I sighed shakily as he got a good grip around my throat.

“Y-Yes..Yes I want it-“ “You want what?” “I want dick! I want your cock…please” He got closer, closing the space between us. “My greedy girl, my greedy fucking bitch..she thinks she can just ignore me the whole week and expect me to give her whatever the fuck she wants but guess what i don’t roll like that and she knows it” He said softly, making me huff at him playing around. “Daddy…no-“ “awh no? You don’t like this do you, you don’t like it when I fucking tease you and treat you like a fucking bitch but guess what you’re my fucking bitch and i’m gonna treat you like it understand?”

I whined, nodding as his grip got tighter. “I’m gonna ruin you doll, i’m gonna fucking ruin you and everyone’s gonna know - not to ever fucking ignore me ever again you understand?” “Yes yes I understand” “Good..you know what to do” I stripped every single clothing off my body, looking at him but I stopped, my energy changing. And Jungkook immediately noticed.

“What’s wrong?” “I’m just..insecure” He furrowed his eyebrows, looking around him. “About..?” “I may have put on..a pound. Or two. I just took a break from my pilates class and, me and Hobi haven’t been dancing for a while I just..I felt like I needed to take a break” “Oh no baby no” Jungkook said, holding her close. “You are still - so beautiful I mean…I haven’t even noticed! You don’t look different at all! Don’t feel insecure about it, you needed a break and that’s fine - there’s no judgement in that. You still look like…y/n” I smiled, feeling his kisses on my forehead.

“And when you’re ready just - go back to classes! But..don’t feel obligated to stay one size and be that one size forever. You are still beautiful. Your clothes still fits the same I couldn’t even tell!” I laughed, seeing him laugh with me. “But until you go back…let me worship, y/n 2.0” I chuckled, feeling him kiss me as he picked me up and put me on the couch, him hovering over me. He got rough, kissing down my jaw and neck and collarbone, all the way down until he got to my pussy.

“Let’s just - be considerate? Yea? I mean look..you don’t have to-FUCK! Ok!” he sucked me out dry, wrapping my legs around his neck as he sucked me like a wild animal. “Oh my - Oh my god fuck! Just like that, just like that! Fuck!” He moaned on it, giving my clit some love and lapped his tongue around my folds. “She tastes so good, my bitch tastes so good” I moaned at the nicknames, feeling his tongue insert me. “Mmh fuck i’m not gonna last, oh my - i feel like i’m getting close” Jungkook backed away, licking his lips as my toes curled in denial.

“Why..just why” “Because I said any other questions?” i kept my mouth shut, not wanting to get him upset any faster. “Glad to know” he took off his clothes and his cock sprung out, and my eyes popped out of my eye sockets at the length. “No - hell no WHAT ARE YOU TAKING!?” “Oh hush it’s not that bad” he stroked it before lining him up and slowly entered.

“Jungkook - jungkook slow…slow, please” I moaned out, digging my acrylics into his muscles as he stuck the whole thing inside me. Now he was balls deep. “You’re gonna take this shit,” he thrusted forcefully making me yelp at the sudden action. “Like the bitch you know you are,” he thrusted again, making me moan and glare at the smirking fiancée on top of me. “And i’m gonna fuck you until I say it’s time to release you understand?” “Y-Yes” “Yes what?” “Yes daddy” “Good girl” he grabbed my ankles with a grip before fucking into me, his pace subtle but his thrusts were powerful, making my moans reach the whole house.

“Fuuuuckk yessss fuck me like that - OH! SHIT!” “Yea you like that shit? You dirty fucking bitch huh? Let them hear you, let the world hear how much of a bitch you are yea?” his pace quickened, the skin snap being immaculate as he tore up my pussy from the jump. This man..is a literal animal. I’m not kidding. “I’m getting close, you d—didn’t let me come from last time” “You’re right i didn’t, and i’ll do it again” the words went straight to my throbbing hood that was already throbbing from before and for me close to my high. “I’m close im close i’m close - I’m gonna come! Daddy-“ He stopped, making my eyes widened at the denied orgasm, my toes curling.

“Nooo no no no - Jungkook why!?” “If you heard what I said I never said you could cum, so, I didn’t let you” I groaned, throwing my head back making him smirk as he turned me over on my stomach. “Face down ass up let’s go” I did it with a quickness, my head on the arm of the couch as my back arched for him. “Ooh look at that oh my” he chuckled as he smacked the cheeks, not giving a damn if it hurt or not.

And it sure did hurt.

“Well then, round two” “oh shit- OH!” he started to fuck me again, grabbing my hips as he roughly rammed my pussy over and over and over again. “fuck oh my - daddy!” “suck it up” that went to my pussy immediately, making it throb once more. “H-Hit my spot daddy please, you kn-know where it’s at” “Oh trust me I know…but i’ll hit it when I want to” I whined at hard he was fucking me, gripping anything that was close to me. “That pussy is tight fuck, clenching on me like that like a fucking slut huh, you wanna come huh don’t you baby” “I do! I d-do daddy please don’t deny me again, don’t deny me again please”

He grabbed my hair and yanked my head back, making my back arch even more and he met my eyes upside down. “You wanna come me, you wanna come like a little bitch yea? My bitch, you wanna come like that?” “I do —fuck! — I do, I do please make me come please make me come” I moaned out, his eyes looking into my weak and desperate ones as he fucked me harder. “But i don’t know, you were..doing so good I’m just not ready for this moment to be over” “No no daddy please I can’t take it - I can’t take it please!” He chuckled, quickening his pace.

“Ok i’m close - I’m close-“ he stopped, making my roll. “You fucker!” “Thank you princess” I glared at him making him chuckle as he took his cock out. “You wanna cum? Earn it” He sat on the couch and I got on my knees, licking the tip before sucking the tip only. I rolled my tongue, did everything I could to get him worked up. “Ooh fuck there you go, there you fucking go - shit” I sucked him roughly, rolling my tongue around and about as I sucked all of the right spots. I deep throated him, which sent his moans on another level. “Fucking shit- like that, like that doll fuck i’m close” he bucked his hips keeping my head down.

“Yes yes yes yes yes yes fuck fuck - i’m gonna come. I’m gonna come” I rolled my tongue around the head and that had him, painting my throat white as his moans got louder at the orgasm. “Fuckkk yes yes yes take it all sweetheart, fuck” i swallowed before taking his cock out, and smirked at him. “You’re still hard kook” “I’m aware of that” I chuckled, crawling on top of him and kissed him, feeling his cock linger onto my pussy, smushing the tip at my entrance. “You wanna cum? Wanna come for daddy” “Yes yes I do” “Sink down and show me how much a bitch you are” I sunk down on his cock, my eyes fluttering shut at the big thing fitting right in.

“Ooh slid on down there didn’t it, that cock fitted right there - my cock size only, nothing less” “yes daddy” “good girl” I bounced up and down, moaning and whimpering at his cock hitting all of the right places. “Yes daddy - i feel like i’m getting close already” he grabbed my throat, choking me and bucked his hips up, making my mouth hang open and my eyes shut at the dominance he was pulling off. “Yea you fucking slut you’re a whore. You’re a whore for cock and that’s all you want huh, that’s all you fucking want huh you little bitch. You wanna coat my cock white huh? You wanna fucking squirt like a bitch yea?”

“Daddy - daddy fuck - RIGHT THERE! FUCK OH MY-“ “Told you I gotchu” I moaned over and over and over again, my pussy throbbing like crazy as he hit my spot over and over again. “YES YES - DADDY! I’m gonna cum! I’m gonna -“ “Say ‘I will never ignore daddy again’” “I will n-never ignore daddy again” “Ever” “E—Ever! Fuck! I won’t do it again” “Good girl. Go ahead and cum doll” I looked at him, his grip on my throat tightening as my moans turned out into choked out ones and clenched, painting his cock white. “Yeaaa squirt all over, squirt for me baby” I squirted all over the place, my eyes rolled at the back of my head at the powerful orgasm since he continued to keep fucking his hips up into me.

“Yea im gonna cum - fuck” He went faster and soon came inside me, hissing as he painted my walls white. “Fucking - fuck. shit!” I whimpered quietly, my eyes fluttering shut at everything that happened at once. He pulled it out and we both breathed heavily at the fuck we had. I laid my head on his shoulder, him holding me close with one arm as we laid in the mix of sex and sweat between each other.

“Don’t ever..ignore me again” I smiled, looking at him. “You know what..I might just do it again” he glared at me making me laugh. “You wouldn’t”

“Oh trust and believe”

#bts smut #jungkook #kpop smut #21+ only #jungkook smut #jungkook x reader

[hoshigray]

Hiya tojis darling ;)

I wonder if you can do this request but if not. Completely fine

wedding night with sexually frustrated toji. Reader is virgin.

Hello, krystal~ :D Been a while since you last requested, hope you're everything on your end is going okay! Lol, yes, I am indeed Toji's darling, currently watching TV with him as we speak~ Omg, I love this idea sm, hope I did justice with this one! Tysm for the request, nice to see you again~☆

Also, if you're reading this, know I'm currently away from this app for the week as I'm out on a trip with my close buds!! I'll still be writing when I get the time, so feel free to drop by my inbox as it'll still be open :3 Also also, I recently got to 1.8k followers!?!?? Sending hearts to y'all :D maybe we'll celebrate at 2k? I'll think about it while I'm gone...Anywho, plz enjoy this~

Cw: Toji x fem! reader - explicit content; minors DNI - soft one minute, then immediate smut, my bad haha - kissing/makeout session in a car; PDA (ig??) - Daddy kink - sex in a hotel room - oral (f! receiving) - missionary position - overstimulation - praise - biting (Toji nibble on your ear)- pet names (baby, darlin', cutie, good girl, mama, sweetie) - clitoral play (licking, sucking, and rubbing) - Toji being a good hubby for your first time, but still a menace - mentions of handjobs, blowjobs, and drool. Wc: 2.7k

"So? You feeling excited~?"

"Umm, I guess so? More like a bit scared..."

"Hehe, I get that. Shit, I'd be nervous, too, starting my honeymoon off with that hunk of a man...Oop! Speaking of, here he comes now..."

You watch your best friend, Utahime, poke to the side with their chin, and you turn to see the direction they pointed to. Tonight was the night of your wedding; the boisterous atmosphere by your guests was still alive and well but will soon wane by the second as the moment you've been anxious about has finally come. You're about to walk out of the venue to the SUV, waiting for you to head to the airport. But before you could do that, someone else had to accompany you. Your groom, the man you married today, walked towards you.

The day you'd see yourself get married to Toji Fushiguro was a day you couldn't foresee. Even after a long while being in a committed relationship with the older man, it's still hard to believe that he proposed to you on your birthday a year and a half ago. Five years of loving and being patient together all led to this moment, and it still baffles you that you are no longer a girlfriend — but a wife. And he, your husband.

Now that the party is coming to a close and pictures are almost finished taken, Toji approaches you outside his wedding attire. Finished changing out of his wedding tux, now substituted with a black turtleneck and dark jeans, a silver chain decorating around his neck. He surveys your changed appearance, your stunning white dress replaced with a comfortable yet elegant jumpsuit that compliments your beautiful skin and figure. He gives you a grin, and your heart swoons. "Lookin' gorgeous, baby."

Your cheeks grow warm, averting your eyes somewhere away from your handsome spouse. "Thank you...you too."

"Awww, look at you being all shy!" Utahime pokes fun at you, snickering to themself when she sees you glare at them. "You better be good to this one, Toji. They just might faint if you look their way~."

The man chuckles at the comment. "Maybe that's what I'm hopin' for, now that I got 'em all to myself." He then moves closer to pull you by the shoulder, your body rigid being towed to his chest, and you just know your friend has a stupid look of glee from the display of affection. "Ready?"

You incline to face him and give a meek nod. He kisses your cheek with a smirk, and Utahime squeals before heading to the front door in front of you. Busting it open to showcase the crowd awaiting your arrival, you two walk down in unison as the guests cheer for the newly wedded couple.

As you make it down the aisle, you look around and share smiles with the familiar faces that came and had fun at your wedding until the blazing sun was replaced with the happy moon. Friends and family clapping their hands to you and your husband, wishing and shouting praises and good luck for the two of you. You saw Mei Mei blowing kisses your way, Gojo lifting his shades to wink at you, and your college buddies chanting your name with your relatives.

On the other side, you could make out Shiu Kong in the far back, taking out the cigarette between his lips and waving goodbye to you and his friend. Geto stands at the front, smiling while his two daughters yell, "Congratulations!!" as you descend. And at the end stands Nanami with a small smile, and beside him are Toji's children. Tsumiki, your pretty flower girl, comes to give you a hug. Megumi, the once stoic ring bearer, followed his sister to do the same.

You return the embrace to the kids, telling them to promise to be good until you return and proceed to walk into the backseat of the car. Toji closes your door and walks to the other side to take his seat, and a roar of applause and cheers erupts when the vehicle drives out of the scene. A tremendous wave of tranquility washes over you now that you're away from the gathering; the wedding is officially over.

However, after you release a long sigh and rest your eyes with shut eyelids, you hear the sound of a seatbelt unbuckling and something — or someone — moving closer to you. And a pair of lips on your neck has you snap your eyes back open.

"T-Toji!" You yell at him in a hushed tone, taking note of the driver in front of your seat. "Not here, wait til we're at—"

"I know, sweetie, I know," he says but resumes arranging your neck and clavicle with kisses. "You just look so fuckin' beautiful; can't a guy have a small piece of his wife before then?" As if you could give him a proper answer before he brings his lips onto yours, your moans taken by him while he sucks and nibbles on your bottom lip.

You grab his turtleneck as you try to suppress the whimpers from airing out, not wanting the driver to hear what's happening in his car (although he's secretly listening to his own music with his earphones). But when Toji's hand snakes down to your butt and gives it a squeeze, you squeak. "Toji!" you whisper shout at him again, and all you're given is a snicker from the sly bastard you're stuck with.

"Shhhhh, lemme have you fr' just a second." Your tiny glare fuels his hunger more, taking your lips once more. And he toys with you throughout the ride to the airport. Such a liar!! You cursed, but this moment was bound to happen.

Despite spending many years together, how you've managed to still be a virgin is still a mystery even to you. You never thought so much about letting your virginity go, so you treated it as something sacred that you only wished to give to the right person. However, when the right person came through, you realized you still weren't ready to let it go. Bless your lucky stars, though, that your [former] boyfriend opted to wait for you, even when you said that it would probably happen when you two get married. You thanked the heavens for having such a patient man, as it showed how much he loved and treasured you.

...But having such a patient, attractive, and brawny man in your life for so long was not an easy task on your part. There have been moments when you'd fantasize about the fateful day Toji would deflower you, so much so there were nights your fantasies took the best of you, and your fingers slithered down the hem of your panties. Or the days when your eyes would linger on his strong, muscular body for too long before your face would feel as hot as the sun, and you'd want to melt on the spot when Toji catches you glancing, a giant smirk plastered on his face. Or times when he'd be too horny, and you'd offer to help him with his erections. Your blowjobs and handjobs would do more bad than good for both of you. Because Toji's desire for you increased day by day.

So ever since you walked down that aisle, you knew your eventual doom was coming to get you. Even when you two fly on your honeymoon, you sense his patience dwindle by the hours. And once you make it to the enchanting luxury suite, he finally snaps. Hoisting you up bridal style and storming right to the bed, clothes discarded to the floor, and lights dimmed to a softer glow.

"Ahhhnn!! Ahhaaa!! Tojiii!! It's too much!! Too mu—Mmnaaah!" He's now between your thighs, your legs propped up by his strong hands and cunt coated with your wetness out for him to see. Your cries are ignored by the obdurate older man, who flicks your clit with his tongue.

"I know, , but gotta have you right fr' me." He coos, chaste kisses set on your inner thighs. "Don't wan' break my baby on their first night." His words meant out for comfort, yet contrasted with the raunchy, lewd noises he was making on your slit. Licking and sucking on your moist folds, teeth grazing your sensitive vulva while his tongue satiates his thirst with your slick. His nose bumping into your clitoris in the midst of it all has you gripping the shits beneath you.

Tears prickle the ends of your shut eyes, your face hot like the air in the room, and your body sweaty and shivering from being in this position for about fifteen minutes. Toji said that the best thing for you was to have him tease and get your body ready. Nevertheless, had you known that you'd have the man eating you out nonstop like this, you would've prepped yourself better! It's so bad that your head pounds, his wet muscle attacking your chasm precisely to the point of your mind being stuck in a haze. No wonder you're constantly jolting, and your legs won't stop shaking — you've come three times already!!

"Hey, mama," you hear him call you, but you can't format a functional sentence now. You respond with gibberish you hope he can make sense of. "Say my name, and I'll let ya cum."

"T...Toji—Eeeyaahh!" He sucks on your clit with vigor; you could've sworn you almost choked on a gasp.

"Aht aht, the other one." Emerald eyes examine your direction.

You bite your lip at the patronizing tone of his voice. You know what he's referring to; it's just too embarrassing to say. For the sake of putting an end to this pleasurable hell and getting what you really want, however, your tongue burns at what you say next.

"Mmmm, please, Daddy...Please, let me cum. I want it!" You whine with hooded eyes looking down at him, and his devilish grin almost makes you melt. Without saying another word, his mouth returns to your leaky cunt. But this time, he brings a. hand down south, and his fingers rub rough circles on your delicate bud, the two sensations shocking your body into an experience you've never experienced before.

It's only a matter of seconds that you come right then and there, your body jerking and legs quivering in sync with your walls clamping onto nothing. And your cries don't stop there, more wails fill the room as Toji drinks your creamy substance for the fourth time that night. His tongue protruded into your spongey core and roughly licked on its tender nerves.

You appreciate the moment he lets you rest for a few seconds after removing his mouth from you, your shivering body slowly calming down to a stable state. You feel so sticky and dirty with the mess between your legs, coated with come and spit. So vulgar to even think about it that your ears ring.

Toji licks his lips of your wetness, "Did s' good fr' me, mama. Such a good girl fr' Daddy." He then stations your legs around his waist, and you peer down to watch him align his erect cock to your entrance. "Ready, cutie? Gonna need ya' to take some deep breaths fr' me, okay?" You nod and follow his instructions. The head of his cock pushes to you with every exhale, and your eyes automatically sew shut when his girth bullying your entrance brings in pain. Your hands find purchase on his shoulders, nails digging into tan skin as you fight the discomfort.

But it all slowly vanishes once the tip slides in, a sharp cry escaping you. More whimpers and choked sobs fly out when he gradually pushes his length into you, tears striking down as his girth stretches your insides.

"Mmmm, holy fuckin' shit," he curses under his breath. "You're so tight, baby." You can only hum as a reply before his hips start moving at a slow cadence. The feeling of his dick between your walls is hard to comprehend. It's finally happened; you're no longer a virgin. So full of him inside you, unable to put into words the feeling you're experiencing right now.

It takes every part of his being for Toji to keep his ruts to a slow pace. He knows this is a big moment for you — it's necessary that you don't get too overwhelmed by him, or else something could go completely wrong. And he wouldn't want that for you. Despite that, a part of him really wants to relish your body. Five years of waiting for you to be ready for him. Five years of fighting the urge to pin you down and have you to himself. Five years of desire all crumble down for this exact moment. Now, when he finally has you for himself and no one else, the patience that was once there converts into that of pure lust.

His hips increase speed, and your hands cling onto him for dear life. The walls of your chasm clamp into him even harder, and your legs wrap around him, Toji groaning at your grip on him. He snickers through gritted teeth, "Jesus Christ, mama, y'r tryin' to snap my dick off? I'm not goin' nowhere." He coos while wiping tears from your eyes.

You open your mouth to say something, but all that leaves your mouth is a scream when he slams his pelvis into your cunt. The action has you arch your back toward him, his length brushing up on the sweet spots that you never considered were there. More mewls bounce off the walls of the suite as his thrusts recur with a vigorous rhythm.

"Daddy, I'm, Oh Jesus—Aiishhhh!!" You hiss out for him, eyes rolling back when he grinds his pelvis on your messy vulva. Squelching noises burn your ears. "I'm gonna cum, Daddy, I wanna cum!"

"Hnngh!! Yeah, sweetie, think y'r gonna cum?" He draws down closer for his lips to be dangerously close to your ear. Your slit clutching hard on his dick. "Wanna cum on Daddy's dick like a good girl?"

"Yes, yessss! Please, I want it!!" You wail out, no regard to how loud your voice is right now. All you want is your orgasm.

Toji's chuckle is too close to your eardrums. You squirm under him, and he playfully bites the lobe of your ears. "Go 'head, darlin'. Make a real mess on me, ya hear?" He kisses you lovingly while his hips snap at you at an erratic tempo, prompting uncontrollable moans to enter the air against your will. With every rut is an abrasive hit to the tender spots within you, and your clit doesn't go unnoticed when he brings his hand back down to play with it, grinding on the pearl rough with his calloused forefinger. And it's thanks to this that your fifth release comes to you in mere seconds.

Your husband tries to rut out more deep thrusts into you and plunge into you a while longer. But it's to no avail when your cunt flutters on his cock deliciously, forcing him to succumb to an orgasm of his own. Moans are exchanged between your mouths, and your bodies experience the aftershocks together.

And when the two of you enter a halcyon state with the quiet room, Toji frees your lips off his and wipes your pretty face off of tears and drool. "So," he kisses your cheeks. "How ya feelin'? Like a new person?"

"...I don't think I can feel my vagina anymore." You say aimlessly, happy to know your drained self has the older man laughing.

"Sorry 'bout that, mama." He brings his lips to your forehead. "Be lucky I'm tired from that wedding and flight. Otherwise, I'd be fuckin' the shit out of you all night." He snickers at your helpless expression, shaking your head at such a fantasy. There's all the time in your honeymoon for that.

You use whatever strength you have left to bring your hands to his face to cup. "Thank you for sparing me, my lovely husband."

Toji hums with a smile, the scar on the right of his lip lifted. And he kisses you until fatigue takes over you both, sleep being the only thing that shuts you from the outside world. The warmth of your embrace and the connection of your bodies are proof of the start of your newlywedded life.

#𝑯𝒐𝒔𝒉𝒊 ˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ 𝑾𝒓𝒊𝒕𝒆𝒔: 𝑹𝒆𝒒𝒖𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒔 #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #jjk thirsts #jjk imagines #jjk fanfic #toji fushiguro x reader #toji fushiguro smut #toji fushiguro x you #toji smut #toji x reader #toji fic #dilf toji #fushiguro toji smut #fushiguro toji x you #fushiguro toji x reader

[luveline]

what about Steve finding out he’s gonna be a dad for the first time??? or him doting on you while you’re pregnant 🥹

You’re asleep when Steve’s starts kissing you. “Love you,” he’s saying between presses of his lips, the words bouncing off of the side of your nose. 

You blink, eyelashes sticky with sleep. Your back aches and couch springs groan as you try to stretch, Steve’s arms locked around you to hold you in place. “What time is it?” you ask. Your voice barely comes out. You try again, “How long have I been sleeping?” 

You tip your face back. He’s laid down beside you, smiling, his hair crushed by the cushion under his cheek. You brush it out of his eyes. 

“I don’t know,” he says, sounding happy and affectionate at once. “I’ve been home for an hour. We napped.” 

You can tell. You feel distinctly relaxed. 

“You okay?” he asks. 

“Nauseous.” 

“Oh no,” he murmurs, pulling you against his chest. His hand slides down to your stomach. “What’s she doing to you?” 

For a moment, he talks so gently, with so much love, you assume he’s talking to the baby. But then you realise he’s talking to you, and you melt like soft taffy under a hot sun. “Nothing, really.” 

“No?” he asks, hand on the topmost curve of your bump. 

“I think I didn’t like lunch. My taste buds are changing or something.” 

“I can make you something. I’m an excellent chef.” 

“Maybe…” You curl into him as much as you can in the limited space. “In a minute.” 

“In a minute,” he repeats, half teasing, half something warmer. He’s turned on his side to give you and your bump enough room, an arm curled underneath you surely dead and the other still resting gently on your stomach. The air between you is warm, almost damp, too hot from napping together but neither of you willing to move away yet. 

You get lost in thought. The nice shape of his smile is distracting, especially still lax with the after effect of a good sleep. 

“What was your day like?” he asks eventually. 

“Just quiet.” You close your eyes and let them sting, tears collecting under your eyelids that you blink away. “I think the baby is making me really tired.” 

“Well, you’re making a baby. It’s hard,” he says. “Much easier to begin with.” 

You smile rather than laugh, too tired. “Way too easy. How was,” —you yawn wide, eyes watering yet again— “your day?” 

“A little less tiring than yours, obviously.” 

You rub your nose into his polo shirt. “Every shift is another pair of socks.” 

“This one’s worth more than that. A box of diapers for sure. And a couple of days of groceries, I guess.” He kisses your nose messily. “Got your vitamins on the way home.” 

“Thank you… Actually, my day was agitating. I have this itch between my shoulders I can’t reach.”

“Yeah?” he’s immediately interested. 

“Yeah, would you– yeah, to your– little more…” You drift off as his hand sneaks under your shirt and his nails find the awful evil itch that’s irking you. He knows exactly where to go from the slightest hitch on your breath, and he isn’t cute about it. He likely leaves scratch marks behind. It’s exactly what you needed. “Thank you so much.” 

He rubs the scratches with the side of his thumb to cover the pain until it’s faded. “You’re welcome, honey. I’m your guy. Itches, rashes, headaches, weird moles. I’m always gonna be your guy.” 

“Until the baby comes along ‘n then you're their guy.” 

“I guess so. I think you kind of…” You’re both so tired your conversation comes out slowly, but it comes. “…make that promise when you decide to have one. I’ll be her guy, but that’s not– I’m always gonna be here for you. I’m still gonna be your guy. You’ll have to share me, that’s all.” His nose crinkles with his smile. “I’m not gonna give you half, though. I’ll just have to double my efforts.” 

“Really?” you ask. You hadn’t realised you were worried until he mentioned it. 

“Duh, babe. Not gonna punish you for something I did to you.”

“This isn’t a punishment.” 

His fingers spread over your shoulder, skin on skin. “For sure not. I’m not talking about the baby, I mean me. The way I am. I’m not gonna choose her over you, I’m going to take care of you both.” 

His polo is easy to collect and squeeze in your hand as you tip into his chest. “You’ll have to choose her sometimes.” 

“So you admit it’s a her?” 

“I admit nothing, H.” 

“I’m on your side forever,” he promises, noses inclined together, your bump pressed to his abdomen. He’s hugging you like there’s nowhere else in the world to be. “I’m always gonna look after you.” He scratches your skin in emphasis, much kinder and longer strokes of his hand. “Always.” 

#steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington oneshot #steve harrington scenario #steve harrington drabble #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfiction #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things x reader

[beelmons]

I have a filthy idea and I love your blog sorry

Hotch x reader x Early seasons!Spencer (or really any older BAU with reader and Spencer, someone has to show him the ropes, right?😩)

Reader is bound and blindfolded. Hotch is trailing a popsicle over reader's skin, showing Spencer where they are most sensitive and Spencer licks the trail of sticky syrup left behind. 🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️(lord have mercy I'm a whore)

A/N: Ok so, i really got into this idea and i ended up doing WAY too much and i'm sorry it's so late but i got too excited. anyways, have this monstruosity.

A different kind of teacher

cw: sensory deprivation (hand binding, blindfold, noise-cancelling headphones), threesome, temprature play (use of frozen goods), fellatio, fem!reader, implied polyamory i guess

word count: 1,996 (on accident)

"I don't think that's—" Spencer tried to interrupt when his boss's actions got questionable.

"It's alright." Hotch answered as he gently tied the blindfold behind your head "She's done this before. I told you, if you’re going to learn how to please her, you’re going to do it my way."

"But that's—" he tried to argue again.

"Reid." Aaron said commandingly.

Their bickering was rather amusing, really. Everything about this situation was. A love-struck puppy, namely Spencer, that had found  out you were having an affair, for a lack of a better word, with your boss. Who was later given the odd offer to join in, one that he barely comprehended the dynamic of. The one he ended up accepting because having half of you was better than having none.

The situation in question was no other than your bare body binded to a sex sofa, yes, the one with a funny oval-like shape, in the middle of a street motel. Mind you, a high category one, courtesy of a very spoiling unit chief. Hands tied behind the furniture, a blindfold securely tied against your eyes, and a pair of sound-canceling headphones that would be eventually put on you. 

“I don’t think I can do this.” the younger man confessed. 

His superior shot him a glare, and his finger raised to press against his own lips, indicating the other to keep quiet. He then proceeded to place the aforementioned gadget against your ears to muffle the sounds. 

“You can’t let your nerves overtake you.” Aaron began to talk, walking closer to the chair where Spencer was sitting “Otherwise, you won’t enjoy yourself. And believe me, she wants you to have as much fun as she does.” 

“I just have never done something remotely similar.” he admitted. 

“And that’s okay, that’s why I’m here to guide you.” Hotch patted him on the shoulder, prompting him to stand up, to which Reid complied. 

As the older man directed himself to the cooler, included with the room by the way, Spencer stood awkwardly next to where you were laying. Regardless of his statements about the situation, the twitching of his dick as he watched you breathing, rather heavily, blissfully ignorant of the sinful deeds they were about to do to you, was giving away just how much into it he was. 

“You should learn to use your tongue first.” the boss interrupted his train of thought “We’re going to do a little exercise, okay? I’ll trail this over her skin, her most sensitive spots. Clean her up. You have to be thorough, she doesn’t like feeling sticky.” 

You were absolutely deprived of such supportive conversation, or anything else for that matter. It was exciting in and on itself to be expectant of what would happen next, along with no indication whatsoever of what that would be. Two, insanely hot, men having you at their entire disposal was certainly arousing. 

Such anticipation caused you to moan rather loudly when you felt a cold object hit the side of your neck, slowly melting down towards the base, the feeling only lasted a couple of seconds since it was shortly after contrasted with the warm sensation of what you figured was a tongue following the strip. 

It was quick. It left your skin as soon as it came.

The lack of attention, though, would not last long. You felt a new sting of coldness, only this time it was right over your breast; instead of dripping down, the same tool, whatever it was, moved downwards until it reached your nipple. You could feel it going slightly numb from the temperature, it was making your stomach tighten. Again, you felt it part and something a lot hotter took its place. This time, you could easily tell who was taking advantage of your breasts by the bony structure of the fingers. 

Spencer was ravishing on the sweet taste of the icicle mixed with the salty notes of your sweat. His tongue was eager and clumsy, but pleasurable nonetheless, his fingers gentle and attentive to the sides of the skin, holding back to not let his animalistic side just come out. 

“That’s good.” Hotch praised the young man “It’s all about not knowing what to expect. About surprising her with sudden pleasure.” 

Back in your deprived state, you were simply squirming with delight at how your chest was being treated, mouth slightly agape to allow soft sounds of pleasure to escape. The gap was tempting for one of the men, still unknown to you, to defile, and suddenly you felt something land over your lips. You recognized the mixture of freezing water and sugar, and your tongue instinctively darted out to take a lick. 

The treat instead began to lewdly penetrate your mouth, simulating a fellatio, and the length of it would teasingly near the back of your throat each time. 

The icicle departed promptly, leaving your lips parted and tingly from the coldness, expectant to be inserted again. Instead, the temperature of the new foreign object was the complete opposite, its structure soft to an extent, and salty in flavor. It didn't take you long to notice it was no longer the sugary dessert, but one of your partners' cock.

"Go slow at first, it takes her a second to get used to it." Hotch dragged a hand behind your head, pushing forward gently so you could get more of his shaft into your mouth “But she can take it very well.” 

His fingers trailed over your scalp lovingly. His moans were translated in heavy, airy exhales through his nose. He was obviously playing tough for Spencer, no matter how much your mouth actually disarranged him on the daily. He thrusted a couple more times, until he was fully hard, before he pulled out. 

He made a signal with his hand to indicate the younger to take over, and Reid swallowed back a knot of nervousness. He awkwardly cupped your head between his palms and allowed his tip to testingly land on your tongue. He shuddered with pleasure as your lips hungrily wrapped around it, hollowing your cheeks almost immediately. 

You could tell the member had changed simply by the shape. Leaner girth, more swollen head, and an almost desperate way of moving. He started doubtfully at first, and later his pace began to pick up. His grip on your head was tight, making you unable to move away, and with every push he would reach deeper into your mouth, and the pulsations on his veins would also have a stronger beat. 

Spencer was losing it, mouth parted open, head thrown back, desperate whines spilling from his throat. His inexperience was his biggest enemy, because he didn’t last much inside of you. When he started to feel his orgasm coming, he decided to pull away. His fist curled around his shaft, pumping the base at a rapid speed, his tip pointing to his own stomach, since, to him, coming inside your mouth seemed dirty, almost too humiliating. 

Hotch stared with amusement at how respectful he was being, rookie mistake, he figured. Too overwhelmed with his own pleasure, Spencer had his eyes fully shut, and became absolutely unaware of the second Aaron gently placed his fingers over the moving hand, pushing it down to aim the tip towards your mouth. 

You simply waited for the inevitable, the white strings landing on your tongue, salty and thick, and a lot more than you had expected. When you were sure no more would come out, you attempted to swallow, but before you could close your mouth a thumb invaded it, keeping it open. 

“Watch this magic trick.” Aaron showed Spencer the evidence of his release before shutting your mouth again. 

You took the hint and swallowed, immediately opening your mouth once again to show no trace of the substance left. 

Spencer had to bring a hand to his face to hide his blush, although his again half-hard dick gave him away. 

“That’s actually really hot.” he said shyly, brows furrowed in embarrassment. 

“It is.” Hotch smiled in his direction “Now that you’ve come, it’s just natural to return the favor, don’t you agree?” 

The older man directed himself again to the cooler, taking now a single ice cube that he held with a piece of clothing to avoid getting frostbite. 

“Your training isn’t over yet.” he told Spencer once he was back to your side “Next, let’s get you a real challenge. If one drop of this cube gets on the sofa, you don’t get to touch her the rest of the night.” 

“W-What? Isn’t that a bit harsh?” he complained. 

“If you make her cum before it fully melts,” Hotch ignored the protest “You can fuck her first.” 

Again, your senses were too limited to hear their bet being formed. During their exchanges you just waited patiently, eager to know what would come next. Every once in a while, when the cool air hit you, you tensed up expecting something to happen, and even when it didn’t you just got more excited. 

At last, another sting of coldness hit your skin, this time it was further to the south, just above your clit. You could feel the object slowly melting, the lack of heat spreading to your bundle of nerves, your labia, and almost to your entrance. It was mildly uncomfortable, but exciting nonetheless. 

Out of a sudden, you felt a muscle enter you. You bolted in ecstasy due to finally getting much needed friction on your lower body. It trailed up, slowly and steady, until it reached the top. The lips rounded your sensitive nub, and you could feel them suck on it. The sensation was overwhelming, making you twist over the sofa, shameless erotic moans filling up the room. 

The water kept making its way down your sex, and the tongue diligently prevented it from reaching all the way to the leather, driving you insane with each lap at it. Your hands struggled against the binds that tied you down. You wanted nothing more than to hold his head down and bury it against you, to have him flush against your entrance, just licking you over and over again. 

A hand landed on your head, indicating that you should keep your movements to yourself. The commanding ambience just added to your stimulation, the mouth down your body sucking the neverending stream of water as if trying to lick it dry. Your thighs attempted to close around his head, and you were finally able to grind against him. For some reason, that did it for you, and you allowed your climax to reach you, and your fluids to come out. 

“Impressive.” Hotch praised as he removed the ice cube from your body. 

Spencer, however, did not stop, his tongue moving ruthlessly against your entrance, absolutely drunk on your taste. Aaron could see you squirm uncomfortably, being pushed to a point of overstimulation, hands restlessly clinging onto nothing in an attempt to release the slight pain on your abused clit. 

“Reid.” he called trying to make him stop; the younger man, however, was entranced by your pussy, and did not react to the mention of his name. Hotch was forced to step closer, tangle his fingers on the blond’s hair, and pull his head back by tugging on his locks, forcing him away from you “Behave. There’s plenty of time for more later.” 

He spoke so sternly that it sent shivers down Spencer’s spine, almost as he did during work cases. He nodded with compliance and straightened himself again. 

“Sorry.” Reid ashamedly said. 

“It’s alright. I know how addicting it can be.” while talking, he rummaged through a go-bag he had brought earlier into the room. “Now,” he tossed a condom towards Spencer “Get ready for lesson number two.”

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid x you #spencer reid blurb #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x you smut #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner smut #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x reader smut #aaron hotchner x you #hotch x you #hotch smut #hotch x you smut #hotch x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds fan fic #criminal minds fan fic #criminal minds fic #criminal minds smut #fic: mine #fic: smut #fic: spencer #fic: hotchner

[daceydeath]

Blood & Sweat

Pairing: Mafia San x Reader Word Count: 1.3K Genre: Mafia Romance, Smut 🔞 Warnings: 18+, MDNI, Explicit Activity, Swearing

San covered in sweat, dirt and blood was a normal event so was helping him clean up.

San coming home covered in sweat, dirt and blood was not unusual, it was a hazard of his job. When you had first met San you had hated that he fought for fun but you accepted it along with the idea that he didn’t really want to tell you about his real job, San had told you he could give you the world as long as you only asked what you absolutely had to know about that side of his life but told you that he made good money and was something called an enforcer. You agreed and never asked what an enforcer actually was or what he actually enforced just pretending that the fighting was his job. 

What made tonight unusual was a couple of things. One he was wearing black pants and a black shirt instead of his usual fight gear, his leather jacket had been thrown on the chair by the bed. Ignoring the drastically different attire you instead just continued like normal helping him clean himself up, look over any wounds and make sure he wasn’t badly injured before making sure he got into bed for you to dote on. And two he wasn’t radiating the normal soft sweet San energy that you were so used to tonight there was something distinctly dark and a little dangerous about him that you had never seen before.

“Baby, I’m not too bad this time you can go to bed if you like, I’ll clean myself up” he smiled fondly at you, one large hand cupping your cheek carefully. His eyes were softer but still serious, almost harsh so you knew that this was not going to be a night where he told you the details of the fight, where he had been or who he was with.

“Sannie, let me see if I need to bandage anything, please” you pressed gently not wanting him to get angry at your actions but you were worried about whether he was actually injured under the dark clothing. He sighed, closing his eyes for a moment obviously trying to reign back whatever was on his mind to hide it from you before dropping his hand from your face and letting you check him over.

Unbuttoning his shirt and slipping it as gingerly as you possibly could down his shoulders you looked over his ribs, back and arms not finding any cuts or wounds that would need cleaning, but lingered on his abs absentmindedly running your fingers across the hard muscles that made up most of his perfect body. Next you cupped his handsome face while he patiently waited for you to decide he was alright. You ran your fingers across his cheekbones and lips only finding a small nick from what looked like his own tooth kissing the corner of his lips lightly you stepped away from him chewing on your lower lip. Knowing he was actually fine the worry you were feeling was steadily turning into something much needier at the sight of him half dressed standing before you like a piece of art

“Did I pass my beautiful nurse's inspection?” he teased trying to sound playful, watching you stare at him, his eyes starting to cloud with lust.

“I guess I will let you get cleaned up then” you mumbled stepping back to leave the room.

“Or you could help me wash up?” he smirked, eyes darkening slightly before wetting his lower lip as a flush began creeping across your cheeks. “Just to make sure I’m absolutely fine”. 

Sensually he unbuckled his belt and undid his pants, stepping closer to you so he could help you remove your sleep shirt, dropping it on the floor away from his clothes, his hands coming up to cup your breasts as he leant it to press his lips to yours passionately. Your hands instantly went to his chest bracing yourself while he shimmied your sleep shorts down your hips so you could step out of them and tug his own pants off. Pulling you against him he backed you both into the shower turning the water on and standing in front of the spray until it heated up his hands roaming your flesh squeezing roughly and teasing your skin until you whimpered against his lips.

“Such a good girl taking care of me” he whispered against your mouth lifting one of your legs to wrap around his waist so he could run his fingers through your folds easily slipping on finger inside your entrance while his thumb worked your clit.

“Oh god” you whined bucking your hips slightly into his hand needing more stimulation that he was giving you. He smirked again kissing across your cheek and down your neck leaving his mark in the juncture of your neck and shoulder and making you yelp. He slid a second finger into you, massaging your walls and stretching you so you would be ready for him, the tips of his fingers effortlessly finding your g spot and pressing against it getting you closer and closer to your high with each passing second.

“Fuck baby, the noises you make” he groaned slipping his fingers from you and backing you against the wall before you could protest the cold tiles making you gasp as the hot water ran down your chest. San dropped to his knees picking your leg up to rest on his shoulder, his tongue quickly replacing his fingers as he ate your pussy like a man possessed.

“San…ngh…ah” you couldn’t even think of any words all you could think about was the feeling of San’s tongue circling your clit in between him sucking it between his lips. Grabbing his hair you felt him moan into your folds the vibrations on your cunt making you cry out as he worked you to the edge again. Just before you came he stopped again ignoring your whimper at a lost orgasm, picking you up he easily impaled you on his cock holding you so he could control how fast you suck down his length growling when he bottomed out inside you.

“Fuck baby, how are you still so tight?” he ground out pressing you further into the wall and snapping his hips into you bruisingly hard making you hiss. San pounded into you, each of his thrusts making your head spin as you clawed at his back to hold on his cock stretching you like he was trying to tear you in half. Panting you could feel fire spreading through you as he pushed you back towards your orgasm, his pace not faltering even when you cried out his name again and again like a prayer.

“I got you baby, come on my cock like a good girl” he grunted his hands gripping your thighs tight enough to leave bruise marks for days to come.

“Ah…San….San” you screamed your orgasm tearing though you like lightening and making you feel like you had shattered and been fucked back together again. San kept pumping into you while your body spasmed around him, your walls clenching him until he followed you over the edge letting your walls milk him of his seed. Slowly he lowered you back down until you stood on your unsteady legs leaning against him while he rinsed you both off and grabbed a towel to wrap you in.

“Guess I went too hard huh?” he laughed breathily carrying you into the bedroom and laying you on the sheets “Now I’m gonna have to look after you baby”.

“Sannie” you squeaked, hiding your face in your hands as he covered you with the quilt to keep you warm, making him laugh properly all the darkness that had been surrounding him earlier was now gone .He padded still naked to the kitchen to get something to drink for you both before climbing into bed beside you and pulling you to him.

A/N: Thank you for reading my loves, I seem to be on a bit of a mafia kick at the moment (oops). All your love and support is appreciated always xxx

Taglist (open): @christopher-bangnaldoskzz , @armystay89 , @damnyouficc , @roamingpolar @tara-skyhold @bakedlilgoonie , @krishastumblernow , @mrsseals16 , @fawnpeaks , @leeknowinggg @uno7 @tanzen-ist-gold

#ateez #choi san x reader #san x reader #choi san smut #san smut #ateez fanfic #ateez imagines #ateez hard thoughts #ateez hard hours #ateez scenarios #ateez fic #ateez mafia au #mafia au #Mafia San #Mafia Choi San