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marvelfilth · 4 months

Text

The mustache

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x f!reader

Warnings: none

Summary: Natasha crashes your date

Masterlist

You let a fake laugh bubble out of your mouth for what feels like a hundredth time this evening. Your date looks smug, her eyes trailing over your form, almost leering. She takes a sip of her wine and licks her lips slowly, daring you to look.

You don't.

You can almost hear Natasha say I told you so.

You clear your throat and take another bite of a perfectly made steak - the only saving grace of this disastrous date.

You mentally cringe, closing your eyes briefly. Objectively, the date is going well - she showed up on time, held the door for you, helped you to your seat and made perfect small talk, occasionally throwing in a joke or two. You can excuse her wandering eyes, knowing you've been throwing mixed signals all evening.

You nod along to whatever story she's telling, smiling and chuckling when it's appropriate. You barely resist the urge to excuse yourself. You chew on your lower lip, wondering how you allowed yourself to get in such a mess.

Your phone chimes once, screen lightning up with a new notification.

Natasha.

Yep. Here's your answer.

You look at your date, hating how different her smile is from your best friends. It's too large, too open and not even half as genuine. Natasha's smiles are small, barely noticeable, but they're enough to make your breath come short.

You sigh. You need to stop comparing your every date to Natasha.

“Do you mind if I take a look? It might be important,” you ask, reaching for your phone. She nods happily, waving the waiter over for another glass of wine.

How bad is it?

You snort, coughing immediately to cover up the sound and reaching for your glass.

Another message appears right in front of your eyes.

That bad?

You choke on your wine, discreetly looking around, but coming up short.

Six o'clock, dumbass.

You wait a moment and look right behind you, mouth falling open when you finally see her.

She's sitting three tables down, wearing your favorite hoodie and a black cap. With sunglasses covering her eyes. In a dimly lit restaurant. What makes you let out a strangled laugh, though, is a perfect old fashioned mustache glued right under her nose. She twirls both ends around her fingers, curling them up, before lowering her glasses and sending you an exaggerated wink.

The best spy in the world, the woman who made entire governments collapse, is sitting right behind you, looking like a child playing dress up.

You whip around, your face red, and wave off your date's concerned look. “I'm alright.”

She nods, all too happy to continue talking about all of the famous people she's met through her job.

You hide your phone under the table and shoot your best friend a text.

You're ridiculous

Her reply comes instantly.

And yet you love me.

Her words hit a little too close to home.

You are hopelessly in love with your best friend.

Another message comes through.

What's wrong?

You frown, eyes darting around. You didn't even do anything to warrant the question.

And don't even try to lie. I can tell something's wrong.

You sigh, tell Natasha everything is fine, and place your phone face down on the table, your date still recounting a story of how she met some actress.

The next half an hour is tense. You can feel Natasha's eyes on you. You can hear her plotting a way to get you out of here, but you know you have to at least try to make it work, if not with… Connie? Courtney? Then with someone else, before you go completely mad.

Your phone rings. You can't stop yourself from picking it up.

“Sorry, it’s an emergency.” Your excuse sounds bad even to your own ears, and you wince when your date pointedly looks away with pursed lips.

“Do you want me to throw her out of the window?” She starts without a preamble. “If not, I have a knife in my boot and you know how good I am with knives.”

“Can't you handle it without me?” You ask, knowing Natasha will play along. Your date reaches for her purse, dejected. Guilt swirls in your chest, and you contemplate your next words. Maybe you should stay and-

“Don't feel bad, she's been looking at the blonde to your right since she came in,” Natasha drawls, “and no, I can't handle it without you. I need you back home.”

You blush, biting on your lower lip.

“I'm sorry, but there's been an-”

“Just go,” your date cuts you off, “I'll handle the bill.” Her eyes are on the blonde girl before she's done speaking, and you leave with your conscience clear.

Natasha catches up to you outside and leads you to her corvette - her sunglasses and cap are gone, but that ridiculous mustache is still in place.

“What do you think?” She asks as she opens the door for you before going around the car and taking a seat behind the wheel. “I like the look.”

You snort and shake your head, amused with your best friend's antics. “It's… something.”

She rolls her eyes, starting the engine. “I know you love it.”

You hum, relaxing against the soft leather, your worries stoved away by Natasha's calming presence.

“Why do you keep going on dates if you hate it so much?” She asks when you reach Compound gates.

You sigh, think of an answer that would get her off your back without making her suspicious.

“I just… I-” you stutter, wincing.

Great.

She raises an eyebrow, looking absolutely ridiculous, but so, so beautiful, it makes your entire chest ache.

The car comes to a stop, and Natasha focuses all of her attention on you.

“I need to get over someone.”

There, you've said it.

“Who?” She asks, and for the first time in all the years you've known her you can't read her at all.

“You don't know them.”

She looks ahead, her jaw clenched tight. “How long?”

You blink away the tears. “A few years.”

She looks down at her lap, her fingers tapping against her thigh. “Who?” She asks again.

“Natasha…”

“Is it Carol?” Her voice is tight, her eyes dart around the street.

“God no,” you chuckle, thinking about your blond friend. Valkyrie would kill you on the spot if you even looked at her the wrong way, not that you're interested anyway. They need to get over themselves and finally admit their feelings to each other. Anyone can see their pining from a mile away.

“Kate?”

You shake your head. “You don't know them.”

“Then tell me. What would it matter?”

“Nat, can we just-”

“Tell me.”

You groan, and turn to open the door, but Natasha’s hand landing on your thigh stops you. You swallow, freezing on the spot.

“Please.”

You close your eyes, bracing yourself for the inevitable. “It's you,” you whisper.

The hand on your thigh clumps tight. “What?”

“It's you,” you repeat, feeling braver after the admission. “Always you.”

She lets out a deep, shaky breath, before reaching for your face with her other hand. “Look at me, please.”

You face her, eyes still closed, a few tears sliding down your cheeks. They're wiped away a moment later, and your face gets enveloped in the softest warmth.

“Open your eyes.”

You swallow, and do as she asked. She looks at you like you're the most precious thing in the world.

“I love you.”

Your heart skips a beat at her words, lips falling open. “What?”

She smiles, her thumb tracing patterns on your wet cheek. “I love you.”

You look at her for a long moment, taking in her features - her forest green eyes, tender and soft, the slope of her nose, so kissable. Your eyes trail lower and then suddenly a loud laugh makes its way out of your chest. You bend, clutching your stomach, happy tears gathering in the corners of your eyes.

Natasha looks delightfully confused.

“I'm sorry, it's just…” you giggle, pointing at her face, “the mustache.”

She groans, tearing it away. “I've been going crazy all this time, you know.”

“Yeah?” You grin, head spinning.

“Yeah,” she says before claiming your lips. She's soft, so soft it makes your toes curl and your chest get warm and fuzzy. The kiss is gentle, loving. You mewl against her, opening your mouth and welcoming her tongue.

The kiss grows heated.

“I,” you gasp between the kisses, “I love you. So much.”

You can feel her blinding smile in the next kiss, and the one that comes after.

#natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x y/n #natasha romanoff #black widow x you #black widow x reader #black widow #the mustache

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inkbybambi · 7 months

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dbf!john price shotgunning his cigar with you —

words: 5.2k rating: e warnings: smoking (cigarette/cigar), age gap, shotgunning, pet names and praises (darling, good girl, pretty girl), handjob, blowjob/deepthroating, cunnilingus, fingering, price is a consent king, panty stealing. please let me know if i missed something! notes: oh my god, this is pure filth. as always, minors dni as this work and my blog are 18+. dbf!trope makes my brain go fuzzy. enjoy!

he finds you in the bathroom, blowing smoke out the open window, half-empty pack of cigarettes by your side on the counter you're perched on, lighter tucked inside.

you're frazzled as he opens the door — as is he, assuming no one would be in the bathroom.

it's a habit you picked up from too many nights out with friends. you don't like how it tastes, but it's comforting and familiar and so you seek it out when overwhelmed or nervous.

and you are.

captain john price, your dad's best friend since before you were born.

he came over unexpectedly — or, unexpectedly to you, your father seems to have been anticipating him.

he's dressed down in civilian clothes — you've mournfully never been able to see him when he's in his gear — but he looks like a god damn greek god. he's so fucking attractive, you're convinced it's ruining your life.

boys have asked you out, here and there. but none of them have that beautiful mustache or eyes that crinkle in the corner when they smile or the ability to look fucking delicious puffing on a cigar.

you want to devour him.

you need to.

"sorry, love," and you have to suppress the shiver that crawls down your spine at the pet name. "didn't realize anyone was in here."

he lingers in the doorway, before stepping in and closing the door behind him, going to wash his hands.

"i could've had my panties down," you say back.

jesus fucking christ, what's wrong with you?

he seems to be biting back a smile, turning off the water and drying his hands. his eyes catch yours, glittering in the light, darker than before.

"wouldn't that have been a sight," he muses, pulling a cigar from his coat.

you swallow and shift as you feel arousal leak out, panties growing wetter by the second. you bring the cigarette back to your lips with a shaky hand, barely inhaling before you're coughing out the smoke, tears pricking your eyes at the sting.

he tilts his head as he regards you. you're beginning to feel like prey.

"may i?" he asks, nodding his head towards where the lighter is tucked into the pack, as he slips the tip of the fat cigar between his lips and fuck, you want to see his mouth against your pussy, licking into you and smearing your cum all over his stupid, attractive mustache and —

"s-sure," you squeak, fumbling for the lighter and holding it out to him.

he looks downright predatory as he steps into your space, slotting himself between your slightly parted legs, forcing them open so he stands between them easier.

he's so fucking close.

"go on, then," he says, a bit muffled, rolling the cigar with his teeth to settle it in the middle of his mouth, dark eyes never leaving yours.

you put the mostly-smoked cigarette between your teeth and use both hands to flick the lighter.

it takes an embarrassing amount of times before you get a steady flame going. a large hand wraps around your wrist as he holds the lighter steady, bringing the tip of the cigar down to light it.

you watch, enchanted, the tip glowing red. he leans back, one of his hands falling to settle on your knee as he uses the other to hold the cigar, taking it out to blow the smoke to the side.

"it's a nasty habit," he says, cigar back in his mouth as he pulls the dying cigarette from your mouth, the butt tinged with your lipstick.

"you're one to talk," you say, slowly and carefully bringing your fingers up to slip through his belt loops, pulling him that much closer.

he moves willingly.

"you ever smoke a cigar?" his voice is deeper, rougher.

you look to him, doe-eyed and glassy, voice soft.

"no, never."

he makes a noise of thought low in his throat and it goes straight to your cunt. if he presses just a bit closer, your hips would be flush together.

his hand — warm and comforting — slides up the base of your throat to hold your jaw, fingers pressing into the hinge.

"open up, darling," he murmurs. your mind goes blank, white noise in your ears and static in your head. you immediately open your mouth, and he makes another noise in his throat. it sounds like approval.

"good girl," he says — purrs — and you know he feels the way you swallow at the pet name, the praise. he crowds in that much closer and you feel the outline of his cock, half-hard, in his pants. you inhale through your nose, fingers tightening in his belt loop.

he inhales the cigar deeply, the tip burning a bright red, orange, yellow, and he pulls away and keeps his mouth sealed. he holds the cigar to the side, as not to burn you with any falling embers, moving to slant his lips over yours. he blows the smoke into your mouth, tongue pressing against yours for only a moment before he's pulling away, closing your mouth.

he nods towards the window after he deems that you've held it for long enough, and you blow out a small trickle of smoke. heat licks at the base of your spine.

"how's it taste?"

fuck if you know, too busy remembering the feel of his lips against yours, the way you felt his cock harden as he licked into your mouth. but the taste lingering on your tongue is heady — earthy and spicy and like something you abso-fucking-lutely should not be doing.

"i don't know," you whisper, other hand going to his waist to cling to him, legs tightening around his hips. "better," you add on, eyes dark and needy as you press into him.

he feels the heat of your cunt through your panties, the way you're sopping into the cotton. you're wearing a dress, one that shows off the tantalizing line of your collarbones, the dip of your sternum to your breasts, a slit in the side that shows a flash of your thigh when you walk.

he wants to fucking destroy you. sink his teeth into every available inch of your soft, sweet flesh. he wants to make the mark so deep that it bruises for days, possibly scars. he wants to know what your skin tastes like, especially between your thighs. wants to hear the way you cry and whine and beg for him, and he would give in so easily.

a man of his caliber, steadfast in the chaos of war and operations, thinking on his feet and willing to do whatever it takes to come out on top — he's brought to his knees at the prospect of having you, pressing you into his bed every morning and leaving you pliant and satisfied. the pleasure lingering just long enough to tide you over throughout the day until he gets home and gets to fuck you again, bury himself in your wet heat and watch as his cum spills from your puffy pussy, all slick from his mouth and spend.

he hums in this throat, bringing the cigar back to his lips to do it again. you straighten up that much more, eager as your eyes flit to his mouth, mouth already open in anticipation. he'd laugh at your eagerness if he wasn't so hard.

he moves his hand to wrap around your throat, watching as your eyes darken from the pressure. his mouth is on yours once more. you paw and grip at his shirt, as he moves to cradle the nape of your neck. he tilts your head to the side to seal your mouths together.

all pretense is dropped.

the cigar falls forgotten into the basin of the sink, a growl in john's throat as his free hand goes to your waist, fingers pressing in enough to bruise. he licks deeper into your mouth, your brain going fuzzy from the slick heat of his tongue dragging against yours.

he bites and nips at your lips, soothing it over with his tongue, and you dare to do it back, eyes fluttering open as you capture his bottom lip with your teeth, biting ever-so-slightly.

his eyes are nearly black.

trailing his mouth down the curve of your jaw, he situates you enough to pull your dress up to bunch around your hips. a pathetic whine leaves your throat as he pushes you away enough to pull the straps of your dress down, exposing your breasts to his eager mouth.

"so fuckin' beautiful," he pants against your collar, your head tipping back to give him better access.

you reach for his belt, cock pressing hard against his zipper. an animalistic sound reverberates through him as the clink of his belt echoes through the bathroom, the only other sound buried among sharp, short breaths and groans.

"darling — " he starts, moving as if to draw your hands away. a noise of protest stops his movement, as he pulls back to look at you, trying to clear his mind enough to talk.

"you don't have to," he says, voice wrecked but so, so soft.

your fingers continue their path, belt unbuckled, deft movements opening the button and carefully pulling the zipper down over the prominent bulge.

"but i want to," you whisper back. you'd give him anything he wanted, if he asked.

he takes a good, long moment to study you, palms surprisingly soft as they cup your face, looking for any signs of hesitation. the sincerity shines through so clearly in your eyes, bottom lip trapped beneath your teeth as your fingers dance around the waistband of his boxers.

you'll stop if he wants you to. you’ve never been with someone who’s cared so much about your comfort, but his eyes are warm and a smile pulls at his lips, and your heart thumps a little harder between your ribs.

you lean up enough to drag your mouth over his jaw, kissing the tip of his chin, his beard tickling your lips. "please?"

he swallows hard, exhales through his nose before his fingers thread through your hair and pulls you in for a heated kiss, more teeth and tongue than before.

"go on, darling," he mumbles against your cheek, and he feels the smile that stretches on your lips as you push his boxers down enough to free his cock. you look down with rapt attention as your fingers curl over his length, thick enough that you can't touch the tips of your fingers together. he's hot in your palm, and he's so fucking big. your pussy clenches at the thought of him inside you.

"yeah?" he asks against your jaw, seeing your hand around him. his tip leaks pre-cum, and you drag your hand up to draw your thumb over the slit, watching as it spreads.

"yeah," you reply, dazed, unable to stop touching him.

he grips your hand to pull you off, chuckling at the pathetic noise you whine out, his name dripping in a tone that makes him ache. he doesn't say anything, and you lock eyes as he laves his tongue in a stripe over your palm, damp as he brings it back to wrap around him.

you pump your hand, adjusting your grip a few times until his breath hitches, burrowing into your neck and grazing his teeth along the column of your throat. you tilt your head to press your lips to the side of his head, gripping him more firmly and starting a rhythm of steady strokes.

"'ve thought about this," he confesses, gripping the counter beneath you. he's trying not to fuck up into your hand.

"did you get off to it?" you're breathy and dizzy, torn between focusing on how his dick feels in your hand — something you've been wanting for a while now — and the way his mustache and lips feel against your skin. it's awkward, and your rhythm falters here and there, but he isn't complaining.

"absolutely, i did," he answers, and it thrills you. pre-cum steadily drips from his slit and gets mixed in with your strokes. it's obscene, the sounds his cock makes as you get him off. he's breathing and groaning right against your ear. you think you could cum from the noises alone.

"christ," he grits out, teeth more insistent on your jaw. "doing so well for me, pretty girl. feels so fucking good."

the praise warms you, making you eager to please, eager to be good.

he drags his mouth from your jaw down to your throat, nipping and licking over the skin until he groans, and you feel his dick pulsing in your palm. he grips your wrist for you to stop. you do, but you tighten your hold on him as well, not willing to let go just yet.

"'m gonna cum, darling, fuck," he growls into your shoulder, trying to gain his composure. it's been so long since anyone touched him, and he's almost desensitized to the way he fucks his own fist. the fact that it's you with your hand wrapped around him, possessive and needy? he's surprised he's lasted this long.

"mouth?" you ask quietly and he has to blink to clear his vision, pulling back enough to see your eyes, nose brushing yours.

"hm?"

"can you cum in my mouth?" you offer again, and he damn near spurts all over you at the suggestion. "easier to clean up," you rationalize.

you're not wrong, but god damn.

price takes in a steadying breath, then pulls back to look at you, face cupped in his hands. your eyes sparkle, lip caught between your teeth and you blink up at him with glassy, wide eyes. he pulls you in close to kiss you, far softer than anything before. he takes his time licking into your mouth, savoring how you taste — the remnants of the cigar is faint, but it’s there. it isn’t frantic or urgent, and it makes your heart ache. your free hand rests on the side of his face as you kiss back, trying to convey something you don't quite wish to name.

he drags his lips from yours, smearing them across your cheek and down your jaw, to the sensitive skin behind your ear. he bites gently at the lobe, voice rough and accent thick.

"right. on your knees, then."

he steps away just enough for you to slip from the counter to the floor, eyes dark as he watches each moment pass, not wanting to miss a single thing.

as you settle on your knees, he tucks a few errant strands of your hair behind your ear, ensuring nothing obscures his view of you. he cups your jaw, thumb brushing over your bottom lip as you brace your hands on his thighs, blinking your hazy eyes as you try to focus on his face instead of the way his cock hangs so close from where you pulled him from his boxers. you draw his thumb into your mouth with your tongue, and he presses down, a firm pressure. your lips close around the digit, gaze never wavering as your tongue swirls around it gently before sucking, his breath catching.

"c'mon darling," he says softly, drawing his thumb from your mouth and spreading the spit clinging to it across your lips. "don't make me wait too long."

you grip the base of his dick with one hand, taking a moment to lick around the head, gathering the pre-cum that drools from the tip. you dip your head down to lick a broad stripe from the base to the tip, drawing him into your mouth.

he groans low in his chest, one hand bracing on the counter while the other threads back through your hair, gripping on the side of a little too painful, but it feels so fucking good as you open your jaw further to accommodate his size, feeling each inch push into your mouth and to the back of your throat.

"mind your teeth, love," he notes, voice raspy and hoarse. you take a chance, grazing your teeth lightly on the sides of his cock, and his fingers tighten further.

"careful," he admonishes, the heat in his eyes licking down your spine. "be a good girl for me, yeah?"

fuck, you'll do anything he asks if he continues to call you that.

you pull off his length to lap at the head with small kitten licks, keeping your eyes on him, making sure he's watching when you take him back into the wet heat of your mouth, fingers digging into his thigh more firmly for balance.

you take him as far down your throat as you can manage before you choke, using your hand to pump what doesn't fit in your mouth. you move your mouth up and down his cock, working in time with your hand, each glide coating him in your spit, making it easier to take him.

he can't take his eyes away, pleasure numbing his system, entranced as he sees how good you take him, so eager to please. your mouth feels divine, the tip nudging the back of your throat, feeling the way you swallow around him.

"that's my girl," he praises as you take more and more of him each time, until you're able to remove your hand entirely and press your nose to the thatch of curls at his base.

"jesus christ, look at you, so fuckin' beautiful," he grits out as your throat pulses around him. you choke and sputter, pulling off him entirely, breathing heavily. your mouth is a mess, spit dripping down your chin, his cock soaking with it.

"don't hurt yourself," he breathes out, carding his fingers through your hair affectionately.

"i want you to..." but you're too embarrassed to say, never having been in this position before. never wanting to do it before.

price is patient, waiting for you to continue.

"want me to what, pretty girl?" he rumbles when you need more prompting. "don't be shy," he adds, content with cupping your face and taking in how you fit so nicely in the palm of his hand.

you shift uncomfortably, before your eyes linger on his cock, dripping with your spit and the last remnants of your lipstick. you feel empty without him in your mouth.

"fuck my throat," you voice, doing your best to keep your voice steady.

he looks proud — why had you been so shy in the first place? — thumb brushing over your cheek. he seems to be debating for a moment, before he squats down to your level, grip firm on your jaw as he draws you in for a filthy kiss before he's standing back up, pressing the tip of his cock against your lips.

"you tap my thigh twice if you need me to stop, yeah?" he asks, and the authority in his voice makes heat pool thick in your belly, aching to be filled. you nod, tongue sticking out to taste him.

before you're able to get your mouth back on him, however, he pulls you away. you whine low in your throat in protest, but his hold is firm.

"tell me."

"if i need to you to stop," you begin, leisurely stroking his cock — needing to always be touching him — "then i tap your thigh twice. sir," you add on as an afterthought but he snaps, pushing the head of his dick back in the welcoming heat of your mouth.

"gonna fuckin' ruin me, i swear," he growls, keeping a firm grip on your hair and waiting for you to drop your jaw, driving into your mouth when you do, slipping deeper with each thrust.

you grasp his thighs, never breaking eye contact. your eyes water the deeper he gets, but you'd rather cry your mascara off before tapping out.

his thrusts are rhythmic, measured — the sound of him fucking into your mouth bordering on pornographic. he pushes you down further, until you're choking, gagging, tears and saliva spilling down to your chin. your nails dig in hard, but you don't tap out.

"oh, fuck," comes his choked-off moan, hips snapping harder, rougher. pre-cum coats your tongue with each thrust, until he's burying himself fully down your throat, your nose pressed against the base of his cock.

it's wet and messy and you gurgle and cough around him, but you love it. his resolve is cracking.

"i can cum in that pretty mouth of yours, yeah?" he checks one last time, shuddering as you only moan in agreement.

he pulls back until the head is resting on your tongue. you open your mouth so he can see as he jerks the rest of his length quickly, a few more times before he spills against your tongue. thick streams of his spend coat your tongue. he thrusts weakly as he cums, riding out his orgasm, a frisson of pleasure sparking through him.

he pants as he withdraws his softened cock.

"show me," he commands, and you obediently open your mouth enough to show him the cum gathered on your tongue, preening at the noise of approval that rumbles deep in his chest.

"swallow."

you close your mouth to obey, licking the edges of your lips for good measure, before opening your mouth again so he sees.

"good girl," he rumbles out, swiping your bottom lip before tucking himself back into his boxers and jeans. "c'mere," he says, reaching for you to pull you up, crowding you against the counter.

you wince as your legs protest, aching with how long you were on your knees, but then you're being sat back on the counter, pulled into price's warmth as he kisses you again. you grip weakly at his shirt, letting in him relish the taste of himself clinging to your tongue, cradling the back of your neck.

"such a good girl," he says, fingers dipping beneath the hem of your dress to hook into your panties, dragging them down your legs and over your ankles, stashing them in his pocket.

you'd flush if you weren't so embarrassingly turned on, wondering and wanting to know what he plans on doing with them.

he pushes your dress up over your hips, spreading your legs to expose your glistening, sticky folds — desperate — and drops to his knees.

"look at you," he says, breath fanning on your thighs, teeth nipping lightly at the skin there. you whimper, one hand on the edge of the counter to keep you steady, the other moving to grab onto his hair, silky and gorgeous and feels so good between your fingers like every other part of him —

you try to focus on him, fucked-out before he's touched you, raising your hips to entice him closer, needing his mouth and tongue. he presses his lips to up closer, stifling a laugh, and you'd make some bratty remark if you weren't so worked up.

he looks at you as he laves his tongue over your slit, drawing up between your folds before circling your clit. your nails scratch at his scalp, head falling back as your mouth opens in a silent moan, panting out breaths.

john's warm hands grip at your thighs, keeping you still, licking leisurely between your folds and clit, a pleased hum low in his throat that you feel, sparks spreading through your veins.

"j-john," you whine out — soft, so you can't be heard — and his eyes snap to you, focused and determined. "please," you add, trying to draw him closer with the hand tangled in his hair, feeling like you're going to fall to pieces.

he presses a kiss to your hip, before he buries his mouth in your folds, and you keen. his grip on you tightens, his nails digging in hard enough to leave indents. you can't roll your hips like you want — need — entirely at his mercy as he licks through your folds, occasionally swirling around your clit, sucking on it lightly.

it feels so fucking good, biting your lip hard enough to taste blood to stop yourself from crying and moaning out. you settle for shuddering breaths, blearily blinking down at him, moving your hand to the nape of his neck, keeping him close, delirious with pleasure, never wanting it to end.

his tongue pushes into you and your grip on the counter falters, slipping and falling back, head knocking against the mirror. you whimper for an entirely different reason, pain blossoming where your head hit, and you're almost brought to tears when john pulls his mouth away, standing up and gathering you in his arms.

his lips are shiny with your slick, arousal coating his mustache, eyes blown black. he cradles the back of your head so gently, careful with his touch as he straightens you, tilting your head back to look you over.

you've never been one to pout but you are now, bottom lip out as you grip at his shirt. your palms are sweaty, but his shirt isn't slick like the counter. you feel like you could cry if he doesn't get back on his knees, finish what he started.

"y'okay?" he murmurs gently, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head, down your temple, to your cheek, nosing your face to align with his, taking advantage of you pouting by nipping at your bottom lip before easing you into a gentle kiss.

you nod in reply, his free hand skimming up the length of your thigh, the fragments of arousal still swirling through your body.

"want you to fuck me," comes your shy request. you've no idea why you're shy — his dick was in your mouth minutes ago and he was eating you out like he'd be happy to die between your legs — and yet.

he presents you with his middle and ring finger, pressing them against the seam of your lips.

"suck."

you're hesitant, if only for a moment, but it's enough of a moment for john.

"be a good girl, now," in that fucking throaty drawl, and you're helpless, opening your mouth to let him do as he pleases with you. a satisfied smile tugs at the corner of his mouth, as his fingers drag over your tongue, pushing to the back of your throat.

wrapping one hand around his wrist, you watch him through glassy doe-eyes, swirling your tongue around his thick digits as best you can, swallowing and drawing his fingers deeper.

"there we are, sweetheart," he praises, and he feels your unsteady breath, "not so hard, hm?"

you want to bite him, whine and whimper and cry until he fucks you with his tongue or even the fingers shoved down your throat or his cock that's sitting half-hard back in his jeans.

but you don't, because you're a good girl.

strings of spit connect his fingers to your lips as he withdraws them, and he marvels at his drenched fingers. he drops his hand between your legs, circling your clit, causing you to grip at his arm.

"when i fuck you — and i will fuck you — " he starts, voice wrecked and low and addicting, "it's going to be in my bed so i can hear all those pretty sounds you make and fuck you until you're ruined."

he captures your mouth in a filthy kiss as he pushes his fingers in your cunt, buried to the knuckle. you cry into his mouth, his tongue licking against yours, swallowing the sound. his fingers are so thick, stretching you better than any toy you have hidden away in your bedside drawer.

he lets go of your head to lean down onto the counter, crowding into your space further, anchoring him. you pull away from his mouth to wrap your arms tight around his back, fingers gripping at his shirt, burying your face in the crook of his neck. he drags his fingers in and out, making you feel every inch.

your teeth make home in his shoulder, finding it damn near impossible to stop the noises rising in your throat, little whines and moans, feeling like fire is curling in your belly, sparking hotter and hotter with each thrust.

he hooks his fingers up, easily finding the squishy part inside your cunt that makes you see stars.

"oh, you like that," he says. not a question, because you can hear the smug fucking smirk pulling at his lips.

he thrusts his fingers hard, alternating between hitting that spot and pistoning his fingers, dangling you over the edge of an orgasm. you'll never be able to use your own hand again — now that you've had your blood ripped open and devastating pleasure injected into you.

"such a pretty fucking cunt," he growls against your temple, moving his thumb to press against your clit. "so wet for me, so needy." he switches to hit that spot inside you with each thrust of his fingers, thumb circling around your clit.

"fuck, john," you pant against his neck, thighs trembling as he draws you closer to your orgasm.

you can't say much more than that, dragging your teeth along the exposed line of his neck, mewling as you damn near drown in the pleasure.

"want you to soak my fingers, baby, show me how much you need it."

it doesn't take more than a few more thrusts with his fingers deep inside before you're clawing at him, pressing your face to his chest. you try so hard to bite back your moans, but white-hot pleasure shoots through your entire body, vision going black and starry as you gush around his fingers, cumming harder than you ever have by yourself.

the pleasure comes down to simmer, grip loosening, coming back to your senses. he slowly withdraws his fingers from your cunt, your arousal dripping down to his wrist, under the band of his watch.

you watch as he licks the evidence of your orgasm off the back of his hand and between his fingers, before drawing them into his mouth to suck them clean. his eyes never leave yours.

he drags them out as slowly as he dragged them from your cunt, savoring every drop he could get.

you grab for the front of his shirt, boneless and sated, and he comes willingly as you bring him in for a kiss, happily tasting yourself on his tongue. he takes the time to kiss you, softer and softer until you inhale a breath and let it out, body no longer strung tight.

with a kiss to your cheek, he leaves you sitting on the counter as he rifles through the drawers and cabinets until he finds a washcloth, dampening it under the faucet.

carefully — and so, so gently — he cleans up the sticky mess between your thighs, almost reverent in his touch. he moves to clean his mouth next. he pulls you from the counter after, helping you steady yourself and dress you to look presentable, but keeps your panties tucked in his back pocket.

"you okay?" he checks and you think you're in love with him.

"perfect," you reply, throat a bit scratchy, nuzzling under the curve of his jaw.

opening the door, he guides you out first, palm warm on your lower back. he moves to go back out to your parents, while you're determined to crash into a post-orgasm nap.

he pushes your hair back behind your ear, leaning down low enough to murmur, ensuring no one else but you can hear him.

"one of these days, i want to know what my cum tastes like dripping out of your cunt."

he leaves you like that, his signature smirk painted on his lips, turning and walking down the hallway, while you stare at his broad form retreating, wondering how soon you can get him back between your legs.

#ink by bambi #john price #john price/reader #john price x reader #john price/you #john price x you #john price smut #john price fanfiction #john price imagine #john price cod #cod john price #dbf!john price #modern warfare smut #modern warfare imagine #smut fic #cod mw2

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harunayuuka2060 · 1 month

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Kid Akihiko: *6 years old*

His maid: My lady, do you like your new dress?

Kid Akihiko: ...

Kid Akihiko: *fake smiles* I love it!

His maid: *sighs in relief*

Kid Akihiko: *still smiling* Nanny? Is there any news about my little brother?

His maid: Oh, Young master Yuurin will arrive home today.

His maid: Are you excited to finally meet him?

Kid Akihiko: *nods*

His maid: *smiles* That's good, Lady Akane. But don't overexert yourself.

His maid: We don't want you getting sick.

Kid Akihiko: Okay~.

Yuurin's mother: It's good to be back, isn't it?

Yuurin's father: Come here, son. Let your father carry you this time.

Yuurin's mother: *chuckles* But I'm not done with him, dear.

Yuurin's father: Let me bond with him at least.

Yuurin's mother: No can't do~.

Kid Akihiko: *watching his parents dote on Yuurin*

Kid Akihiko: ...

Kid Akihiko: *decides to approach them later*

Their mother: Akane, I love your dress today. It's cute and stylish.

Kid Akihiko: *smiles* Thank you, mother. Nanny sewed this dress for me.

Their mother: Did she? *chuckles*

Their mother: Ah! Before I forget!

Their mother: Yuurin? This is your older sister. Say hi to her~.

Baby Yuurin: *looks at Akihiko* *then her eyes sparkle*

Kid Akihiko: !!!

Their father: Looks like our son wants to play with his sister.

Their mother: Hmm... Alright.

Their mother: But don't tire yourself out, Akane. *smiles at them*

Their mother and father: *takes their leave*

Kid Akihiko: ...

Baby Yuurin: *approaches her brother*

Kid Akihiko: *expecting to be called "sister"*

Baby Yuurin: *hugs Akihiko* Nii-nii!

Kid Akihiko: ...

Kid Akihiko: Huh?

Leona: So Yuurin recognized that you were her brother on your first meeting? *talking with Akihiko on the phone*

Akihiko: *chuckles* Yes. I was really happy that time.

Akihiko: Eventually, I had to teach her to call me "sister" when someone was around. Besides, we didn't want to be caught.

Akihiko: But whenever we were alone in the house, we would play dress up and I would lend her my clothes.

Akihiko: While she, on the other hand, would draw me a fake mustache on my face.

Akihiko: Good thing she never used a permanent marker.

Leona and Akihiko: *chuckles*

Yuurin: Aki, were you on the phone with someone? Your line was busy.

Akihiko: Oh, yes. I was chatting with a friend. *chuckles*

Yuurin: I see.

Akihiko: Yuurin?

Yuurin: Yes?

Akihiko: Brother loves you, bluebell.

Yuurin: ...

Yuurin: *smiles* Me too, Aki.

Akihiko: *chuckles* Why did it take you a second to answer?

Yuurin: Because you said it out of nowhere.

Akihiko: Hmm... You're making me sad now. Just kidding. *chuckles*

Yuurin: *shaking her head*

Leal: Master Akihiko-

Akihiko: *has coughed up blood after his phone call with Yuurin*

Leal: ...

Leal: Let me clean you up.

Akihiko: Yes. Thank you, Leal.

Leal: ...

Leal: It seems your condition is getting worse.

Akihiko: I didn't ask for your comment.

Leal: ...

Leal: I'm sorry.

Akihiko: ...

Akihiko: You do not need to worry yourself.

Akihiko: I'll manage to hold on until Yuurin's debut... no, it'll have to be a week after her 18th birthday.

Akihiko: I won't make her sad on her special day.

Leal: ...

Leal: As you wish, Master Akihiko.

#twisted wonderland #twst yuurin #twst akihiko/akane #twst leona #twst oc leal #twst unveil

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argreion · 4 months

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Cuts and Band-aids

Val Here — So, uh, stupid self-indulgent fluff? I really badly just want to have a domestic life with Leon, you don't understand. I need to be stupid and laugh at his shitty dad jokes. Then play with his hair and fall asleep with cuddles. I am a simple woman, am sorry guys… Also going off Google with this.

(Also Tumblr decided to hide this for an hour so uh... Yeah, that happened. 😭 Am I making a big deal out of it? Yes. That shit literally scared me.)

Warnings — None, just fluff. And slightly OOC Leon, cause I like goofy Leon. Ok, maybe pretty OOC Leon but I think Domestic Leon and Mission Leon are pretty different ngl… Also, shit writing too, dialogue isn't my strong suit. 😭

All this started with was cuddling in bed one night, being curious about one simple thing…

“Could I possibly shave your stubble, Leon?” An innocent question, as a gesture of affection towards him; something small and sweet.

Surprising him, as he proceeded to check his phone. Looking over his shoulder with shocked eyes, nodding in response.

“Sure.”

“Am I doing this right?” You asked as you applied shaving cream to the lower half of his face. Sitting up on the bathroom counter, with Leon leaning into you slightly. Watching him appear like a cat, scratched under the chin with a shit-eating grin.

“Mhm, I hope you know the basics of shaving. Do you need some private lessons on this, hm? Do I have to be Mr. Kennedy? Private shaving tutoring with Mr. Kennedy?” Leon purred, allowing you to maneuver his face in whatever way you wished. Feels like a model with a brush on his face, beauty at its finest.

“Uh, I know the thing about the grain. Against the grain?” Ok, maybe you didn't exactly know how to shave. It seemed harder to shave a face, rather than arm hair or leg hair. You didn't even have facial hair, so you had no room to talk in such a department. “How do you do against the grain?”

Aw, you poor, poor thing…

Leon sighed, explaining as you continued to cover his face in shaving cream; with the brush he provided ever so courteously, “'Ight, so, it ain't like shaving an arm. At least in my opinion, 'cause my opinion is absolutely amazing, and you shouldn't put cereal before milk.”

Ok, smart ass, maybe you'll be a lunatic and do milk before cereal… Sike.

“That opinion is shit, and you know it.” You laughed, putting the shaving brush away on the bathroom counter. Watching as Leon proceeded to ready the razor, like a jeweler appraising a diamond. Leon often looked this way when he cleaned his gun.

“Maybe you're the one with a shit opinion, ion know.” He chuckled, sliding the razor into your hand. “There, now it's time for Mr. Kennedy to work his charm and school you on shaving.”

Leon coughed, his face taking on a 'dignified' look as he raised his eyebrows and pursed his lips. Taking your hand in his, and giving you a hands-on approach toward his shaving.

Gently guiding your hand in a way that went against the way his facial hair grew. A slight sound came from it, and bits of hair following the trail.

“So, miss, what do you notice?” This 'teacher' asked, letting you do the second swipe yourself. Arms crossed over his chest, seemingly pleased with his shit attempt at teaching you.

“That you look very stupid? Or the fact that you missed a spot?” You answered, taking his jaw in your hands to move his face in an appropriate direction. He did, in fact, miss a spot. Poor man's ego probably took a hit.

“Damn it.” Leon sighed, his expression falling as he let his face rest. Letting out a faint hum as he watched your face focus; such care in doing something so simple.

“Seeing you focus is adorable, y'know?” He now said, was he attempting to woo you further? As if cheesy jokes, blanket hogging, and a breakfast lover weren't already enough. Focusing was his new target?

“I'm charmed, but I have a man at home.”

Shaving his face was a little over halfway done, having to do underneath his jaw and possibly his mustache. Seeing Leon raise an eyebrow at you as you began to do underneath his jaw. Oh really, a man at home? Oh my, what could ever be his name?

“I bet I could be better than that man.” Of course, you could be, dumbass. It's literally you.

“I dunno, he's definitely charming, but he's a bit of a... What's the best word? Clod? Dolt? Dumbass?” There were multiple words to describe Leon at points. The way he would burn his mouth when eating, knock things over, clearly need glasses, and proceed to not wear a damned motorcycle helmet. How many times did you yell at him? Then he would proceed to give a sheepish smile, runoff, and come back saying, “So, uh, honey! My motorcycle crashed on the freeway!” Absolute dumbass, but it was sweet. He was sweet.

He was sweeter than honey, almost too sweet. Seeing as he always kissed your knuckles or palms. An aged cat that just wanted to be loved, and love back.

“I bet he's delighted you call him such wonderful names. I'll call you... Amore mio bellissimo.” Leon purred, looking up to catch himself in the mirror. A smile graced his face, alongside a cut. The sudden movement of him moving his face caused the blade of the razor to cut him. Seeing a now thin, bright red mark on his jaw.

Oof, you did a little fuck-up. “Err... Band-aid?” You suggested, face a little uncertain as he brushed a finger over it. “Kind of moved your face, should've learned this now.”

“I know.” It was all he responded with, letting himself stare into his soul. A little creepy, but he often dazed off into his own world. Doing paperwork, before bed, coming from a mission, and when you showered together, too.

“Stop looking gloomy, gumdrop.” Gum drop? That just randomly popped out of your mouth. Ew, you're starting to sound like Leon when he's drunk. Clinging to you like a child, crying that you're so good to him. Delighted and honored, he held you in such a high regard.

“Gumdrop? I've rubbed off on you, honeybun.” He teased, that signature Kennedy toothy smile appearing. Cute little dimples on his face. Damn you.

Why did your face feel warm? A groan came from your lips as he had successfully wooed you in the stupidest ways. Reaching behind you into the band-aid box, feeling around for at least one normal-sized band-aid. Leon, why'd you always buy the big ass ones?

While you did that, Leon finished the rest of his face, splashing water all over his face as he finished. Rubbing underneath his eyes, muttering to himself that he needed to do something with his eye bags. Good, he's distracted...

Maybe you did like to fuck around and find out. Being able to fish out a Hello Kitty band-aid. Heh, you can play the small stupid game of pranks as well. Well, this wasn't exactly a prank. But it usually got a rise out of him in small ways. Pulling the back off and sticking it quickly on his face.

Was he appalled? Possibly, seeing as he stood there for a second. Maybe multiple seconds? Why did a small cold sweat break down your neck as he glanced towards you? Lips pursed as he judged the 'fashion choice' of such a band-aid.

“What's this dog again?” Leon asked, squinting as he turned his face to get a better look. That's right, he didn't even know what Hello Kitty was, did he? It was basically something for girls, and judging by the way he would watch raunchy cartoons. Yeah, he wouldn't know it's Pompompurin. It was too out of his league.

“That, my friend, is Pompompurin. Big name, I know. I botched it, so many times, till a little teenager screamed at me for it.” You laughed, recalling the small memory of it. Pausing as Leon gave a kiss to your cheek. More red blooming on your cheeks. Quick and sly, always the way he was.

“Well, guess I get to have a pee-colored band-aid on my face now, huh? Multiple kinds of hydrated, too.” Duly noted, never introduce you to a dog or Sanrio ever again. Only took ten seconds in, and you had to say something flavorful. No, something you want to slap him respectfully for.

“You always ruin cute things, God damn.” Never got old, you respectfully ruined the other. He got pee-colored band-aids, and you got a drive-by ass-wise. The equal playing field in this relationship.

“You just can't appreciate my art, can you?” He questioned, giving another kiss on your cheek before proceeding with his normal morning routine.

“You can't appreciate the art of me learning to shave your stubble? Not even a thank you?” Reusing his words in a way against him, watching him roll his eyes and meet your gaze.

“Thank you, babe.” Was all he said to make a small smile appear on your face. Earning a kiss on his lips.

“Love you.”

“Love you too, maybe pee colored band-aids are go—”

“Oh, shut the actual fuck up.”

#resident evil x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon s kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy x you #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy #leon s kennedy

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justkennadi · 7 days

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Being plug!connie’s sneaky link🤫🤭

Plug!Connie x Fem/blk!reader

Summary: just u ‘n connie sneakinnn around…

Cw: Some cussing, a lot of mentioning of being high, nsfw

- Plug!Connie knew you since high school. You were friends with Armin and Eren who were friends with Sasha, Jean and him. He thought u were fine asf too but didn’t make a move on you until a while ago.

-You started trying out weed to take the stress off form college your first year and Plug!Connie was the only person you knew who had his hands on some. Y’all stayed together while he taught you how to inhale and all the basics of smoking. He honestly kept getting distracted by how good you looked in you biker shorts and crop top you wore that day.

- “You got a man’s yet mama?” He’d ask as you puffed out a bit of smoke, coughing a bit.

-“Uh, nah, *cough* why?” You’d ask looking at him. It could’ve been the weed but this man was starting to look real fine. You stared into his intense hazel eyes as he just smirked. “No reason…..” He’d trail off.

-And that was the start of it all. You started really getting to know him but once y’all got serious y’all decided to keep it secret.

-Now it’s been a year and honestly you both don’t know how none of y’all friends found out abt y’all?? (I mean Armin was very suspicious at this point but he didn’t have enough proof so he stayed quiet…)

- Plug!Connie would call you after he was done selling all this orders for the day and just sit in his car smoking a blunt as you rambled about your day and how much you missed him. You were in college but it was your 3rd yr so you didn’t have to stay on campus and had your own little loft apartment but you were still very busy all the time so y’all’s schedules didn’t really match up.

- “I miss uuu! I cant wait to see u this saturday.” You said laying on you bed.

- “I know mama. Me too.” Connie said blowing smoke out the window.

- Plug!Connie and you could only meet up about once or twice a week most of the time. And when y’all did…y’all had a mf ball🤭

- Onyankopon and Jean saw y’all at the mall once and swore they saw him holding your hand but Connie denied it.

- “Bro, we aren’t gonna laugh at you if y’all fuckin’ for real.” Jean said one day hanging out at Connie’s place.

- “Nah. I aint fuckin her. Ion even know what y’all are talkin’ bout anyways cause i wasn’t at no mall.” Connie said nonchalantly and focusing on the game he was playing.

-Plug!Connie regularly would take you on shopping sprees with all the extra money he had. He would buy you almost anything you’d want but y’all gotta be more careful from here on out now.

- He honestly didn’t care if anyone found y’all out in y’all friend circle by now but he definitely didn’t need his regulars finding out about y’all.

- Plug!Connie sometimes facetimed you if y’all missed your weekly meet up and he was feeling needy. “Come on ma, i wanna see u….” He’d say softly as his tatted hand stroked himself in his dim lit bedroom.

- It was pitch black in your room as it was 1:03am and you were half awake and did not feel like turning no lights on. But after a while of begging from Connie you turned your bedside lamp on anyways cause you were just as needy to see him. Y’all would be on the phone for hours on nights like this, missing each other deeply.

-Sometimes you wanted to break and tell your friends Mikasa or Sasha but you promised Connie you’d wait until he was ready to tell everyone too. Mikasa acted like already knew tho which fr threw you off sometimes. You’d casually mention Connie and she’d side eye you and smirk a little and you would just be like, “…What?” and she’d just say, “Oh, nothing.”

- Plug!Connie’s contact for you in his phone was - Princesa👸🏾 and for him you just had him as - 💋❤️

- When y’all finally had free time to meet up he’d pull up to your house and be in some silly disguise it was kinda funny. You’d walk out your apartment and get in and just laugh a bit.

- “Why you got sunglasses and a mustache on Con?”

- “…..Cause.”

- He’d do it mainly to see you laugh.

- Most of the time, especially after y’all got caught at the mall, y’all had to get smart and stop going to places like stores and parks where familiar faces would regularly be and could see y’all. Sometimes late at night tho y’all would go to a park and either walk around and talk or just smoke some blunts in silence.

- Sometimes y’all went to movies that started late like 11pm or midnight high as hell. Y’all would share a big bucket of popcorn and eat a lot of candy.

- Other times y’all would just hang out at each others place, most of the time Connie’s tho cause your place wasn’t too big.

-Y’all’s hang outs always concluded with a make out sesh and then the devils tango ofc.

-Plug!Connie would sit you in his lap while y’all was on the couch, stareing deep into your eyes with his slight tinted red ones. His hands would roam from your lower back to your ass and thighs just rubbing and squeezing the plushness. He’d admire you forever if you let him cause he truly loved you that much.

- Connie would slowly kiss you, your lipgloss getting onto his on lips in the process. “Mmm, this strawberry, ma?” He’d whisper while licking his lips and you would just nod and start to kiss him again before he said anything else.

- Sometimes y’all would stay on the couch as y’all did the deed but other times Connie would take you into his room so y’all didn’t stink up the living room in case he was gonna have guest over later.

-He loved doggy style the most, watching your ass meet his hips as he held your hips pulling you back over and over. Entranced and high, watching where y’all met as the slick, wet sounds and your addicting moans filled his ears.

- When y’all were done it was either time to eat or sleep. Sometimes when y’all met midday though Connie would just tell you to stay in his room if he was having people over or had to leave to handle business. You didn’t like when he would leave you there but he always came back within at least 3ish hours and he said it was, “For safety, ma.”

- It was rare y’all could spend a whole day together. Most of the time y’all met at night after either you or connie got off work.

- Plug!Connie always kissed you bye when you had to go in the mornings or when he dropped you off. He would hold your hand and stare into your eyes once more like he was never gonna see you again. He’d tell you, “I love you, princesa. Stay safe, i’ll see you later.”

- You didn’t know how much longer you could handle this sneaking around but lord did you love the mf thrill.

(I’ve had this in my drafts since July last year😭😭 i don’t have anything to write lately so ig i’ll just be clearing out my drafts. I’m down with school so at least i have time to write anywaysss. Reminder that my requests are open too!)

#connie springer #aot x black reader #x black reader #plug connie #connie x black!reader #connie springer smut #connie x black y/n #connie x reader smut #aot connie #aot imagines #aot smut #aot x reader #aot x you #sneaky link

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ghulehunknown · 7 months

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Papa Headcanons! 💋🫂

Day 13 of KINKTOBER is here! 🎃

**RATED PG-13, borderline NSFW**

My headcanons of making out and cuddling with the Papas

Primo

Talks very sweetly; lots of cute but old-fashioned pet names

Lets you rest your head on his chest

Doesn’t use tongue unless you initiate

Big spoon, holds you gently

Serene for the most part, but abruptly interrupted by his coughing fits ):

Always falls asleep before you, usually mid-kiss or mid-cuddle

Secondo

Holds your head very firmly in his hands while kissing you

Slips in tongue

Plants kisses on your neck

Takes control but wants to be on the bottom while cuddling so you’re laying on his chest otherwise he’s big spoon

Holds you protectively, rubs your back soothingly and runs his hands through your hair

Gives massages

Terzo

Sticks his tongue down your throat and goes straight to your pants but complies when you ask just for kisses and cuddles

Presses his body against yours

You can always feel his erection through his pants, purposefully on his part

Kisses like he hasn’t seen you in years

His phone keeps going off

He doesn’t care if he’s big or little spoon

Leaves hickeys and bite marks

Cardinal Copia

Nervous and sweaty

His mustache tickles your face

You can always feel his erection through his pants, accidentally on his part

Usually one of his rats will crawl on you if you stay still too long while cuddling

Wraps all his limbs around you while snuggling as if he’s afraid you’ll fall off the bed or escape

Likes to be little spoon

Popia

Starts with a sweet little peck on your cheek

Usually ends with his hands around your waist and feeling you up, but it’s a slow build up to that

Holds your chin in his hand and kisses your nose

Tells you what his every next move is so you know what to expect

Tells you about his day/asks you about yours

Adjusts his position if he senses you are uncomfy or smushed

Nihil (for shits and giggles)

Sneezes and sharts himself

You run away because it smells

#the band ghost #ghost bc #ghost band smut #papa emeritus x reader #ghost band fanfic #copia is my husband #papa emeritus iv #terzo #copia emeritus #kinktober 2023 #papa emeritus smut #papa emertius #terzo x reader #primo x reader #secondo smut #terzo fanfiction #secondo x reader #cardinal copia x reader #copia x reader

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tieronecrush · 1 year

Text

hot & heavy

chapter one: southern nights

neighbor!joel x f!reader

series masterlist

series rating: E (18+ only, MDNI), nothing explicit in this part but future parts will be

series summary:

over the course of three summers, joel miller becomes woven into your life. the first summer is spent falling for him; nannying his daughter and sneaking around with him in a burning love affair. you know how you feel about joel, he isn’t so sure about how it all is gonna work. the second summer is brief. a month spent at home after graduation and before you move to boston for your dream job. one look at you, one time hearing your voice, and joel is hooked again. he pines over you for that month, but you think — how is long distance of over a thousand miles going to work for a single dad? the third summer, you return home burnt out and pride bruised from your post-grad life. you need time to feel at home again, like your complete self, so you’ve come back home with no return ticket booked. it’s only a matter of time before joel seeks you out, slowly spending more time with you. without an inevitable end to the summer looming over you both, what chances are you willing to take?

word count: 4.4k

warnings: NO USE OF Y/N, NO OUTBREAK (don’t need to worry about the mushies), age gap (joel is 30/31, reader is 22), canon-divergent (sarah is 7 y/o), mild alcohol use, mentions of food/eating, pet name (sweetheart), polite southern manners (*cough* sir *cough*), feeling familial and self pressure

“I can see a truck pulling up now! C’mere, see if you can get a glimpse of them. You’ve got better eyes.”

Your mother is standing at the side of the picture window in your living room, attempting to stealthily get a good look at the new neighbors moving in next door. Her hand waves you over from where you’re standing at the bottom of the stairs, disheveled from the sleep that is still fogging most of your brain.

You definitely have to be half asleep because you comply with your mother’s urgent pleas, the bottoms of your bare feet sticking to the humid wood floors. You are fresh-air people, as your mother says, leaving all the windows and doors open for as long as humanly possible in the summer. It only lasts for the first few weeks of warmer weather, and eventually, everything gets sealed up and the house becomes a frigid ice box with the way your parents crank the air conditioning. Peeling your feet off the floor one last time, you stop in front of the glass.

Standing next to your mother, fully visible in the open window, you study the moving truck that’s pulled into the driveway adjacent to yours.

A local company. Must already be from Austin.

Behind the massive truck, a navy blue Ford pickup that you don’t recognize coasts down the asphalt, getting thrown into park in front of the lawn of the vacant house. Two men, maybe early thirties if you had to guess, climb out of the driver’s side and passenger seat, already talking over each other.

The one at the passenger side has dark brown, nearly black hair that looks just long enough to need a trim and frames his face with curls. Fairly tall, firm build. The white ribbed tank top that he’s wearing hugs his torso underneath the green shirt thrown on over it, buttons undone. He has a shit-eating grin on his face about something that must have been said, hand banging on the side of the car before he walks back towards the bed to grab a cardboard box out of it.

The other, the one that’s come out of the driver’s side, looks a bit older than the passenger. Much more cropped, but still messy, lighter brown hair sweeps down onto his forehead, the back of it curling up slightly at the nape of his neck. Definitely could use a haircut, too, but the bedhead is endearing. A hand reaches up to scratch at the trim beard and mustache that he’s sporting, the facial hair framing his strong jaw nicely. His eyebrows are furrowing in frustration or annoyance, or maybe a bit of both while his head shakes back and forth at whatever his companion joked about. He makes the grumpy stare charming, and you suddenly have the thought that you’d like to know if he’s always got that crease in his brow or if that’s only reserved for the man who was unpacking the truck now. The muscles in his biceps flex as he shuts his door, t-shirt pulling taut over his chest as he steps to open the rear door, a grin growing on his face.

Out from the backseat pops the most adorable little girl you’ve seen. Looks to be about seven or eight years old, maybe, with tiny, sweet features and dressed in a lilac shirt and denim Bermuda shorts. She’s got voluminous, kinky curls that show off natural highlights in the Texas sunshine. She’s giggling and giddy, reaching for the man who opened the door to help her down from the raised truck. He scoops her up, a shriek of laughter coming from the little girl as he slings her over his shoulder. More muscles flex in his back as he carries the weight easily, walking back to the bed of the pickup to grab some bags out of it to bring inside.

So tunnel-visioned on the vignette of family life playing out in front of you, you didn’t even think that you could be seen. A voyeur of your street, you forget that your curtains are drawn, the window is open, and a large pane of clear glass is the only thing in front of you. As if he could feel the burn of your stare, the eyes observing his movements, the man carrying the little girl turns towards your house. His stare catches your own that was already trained on him, a friendly smile plastered to his face as he raises the hand holding the girl in a short wave.

Mortifying. The first impression that your new neighbor, your attractive new neighbor, had of you was you, standing in ratty cotton sleep shorts and an oversized t-shirt, hair falling out of the hair tie at the back of your head. Heat warmed your cheeks and the back of your neck at the embarrassment of being caught, and of being caught in this outfit.

Your mother next to you erupts in laughter, turning away from the window as you grumble under your breath about that interaction being her fault. Trudging back up the stairs to get ready for the day, annoyance is still twisted in your expression. You skip back down the stairs to the kitchen, dressed and hair fixed up, skidding into the open room to see your dad at the table alone, the newspaper in his hand with the job listing page already pulled out and set at your usual spot.

“Morning, kiddo.”

“G’morning, Dad.”

Sliding into the wooden chair at the kitchen table, you start to look over the listings in search of a summer position to occupy your time at home before you start your last year of university in the fall. There are a few postings for dogwalkers, hostesses, and waitresses that you’ve already seen or applied to in the last week. A couple of bartending jobs catch your eye, thinking about the tips to be made, but your thoughts quickly deflate when they require state licensing.

A huff of disappointment rolls from your lips when your mom comes back inside through the door to the garage, an artful smile pulling at her lips. She’s looking directly at you, the expression making you uneasy in anticipation of whatever news or plan she’s concocted. Your mother meddles, in the most loving way possible, but she can’t help but stick her nose in everyone’s business. So the next words out of her mouth really shouldn’t surprise you, but they do make your stomach turn with newfound anxiety.

“So, I just met the new neighbors. Well, one neighbor and his daughter, I guess. The Millers. His name is Joel, and his daughter’s name is Sarah, she proudly told me she was seven years old and starting the second grade in the fall. The other guy we saw was his brother that he introduced me to, Tommy.”

You’re currently rereading the same job listing over and over again to avoid looking at your mom, feigning disinterest as you nod slowly at what she’s saying. At the same time, your nerves zip in excitement at knowing his name now, and you bite your tongue to ask your mom to continue, knowing she’d tease your eagerness.

Instead, you let her tell you about the rest of the brief interaction, recalling whichever neighborhood Joel had said they moved from and how he and his brother have lived in Austin their entire lives.

“Oh! I almost forgot to tell you both,” your mom addresses your father for the first time in the conversation, the call to his attention making him lower the newspaper to look at her, a silent nod getting her to continue, “I invited them over for a barbecue tonight to take a break from moving in and have a nice meal after their long day. I’m gonna need you to run to the store for me, and I’ll have to get to cleaning the house…”

Your mom’s plan for the day and list of chores trail off in your ears as a buzz muffles it. Your hot neighbor was coming over to your house, tonight, and you were going to have to face him after being caught blatantly staring.

How great for you.

The sliding screen door pulls shut behind you with a woosh and a click, returning to its pathetic job of keeping insects out of the house while letting the slightly cooler evening air in. Foamy flip-flops smack against the weather-worn oak wood deck as you shuffle over to the large silver grill that your dad commands. Steel wool scrapes against the metal grates of the inside; your dad’s bent over to get better leverage to clean all the burnt bits off.

The beach-themed melamine platter weighs heavy in your hands, covered with burgers, hot dogs, and brats - plus a couple of veggie burgers - to the point where the design of crustaceans and shells in the waves and beach towels laid out on the sand is completely disguised.

“I didn’t ask what they like to eat, so I got everything I could think of! You can’t assume these days with all these new folks moving to Austin, I’m trying to be considerate,” is what your mother said to you when you asked if she was planning to feed the whole block or a small army with the amount of food that was going on the grill.

Don’t even get started on the sides.

You set the platter piled with meat on the webbed black iron patio table to the side of the grill, shuffling over to stand at the edge of the deck, overlooking the chlorine-blue pool water that shines in the slowly fading sunlight. Your parents had installed the in-ground pool the first summer you’d been home from college, jokingly claiming it was their way to make sure you came home every summer, and your brother, Chris, too when he went away to school a short two years after you.

To be honest, it may have been a joke, but it was definitely part of the reason you came back each summer. That, and you just felt more yourself, more at ease at home. It was your comfort zone, but after spending every school year pushing yourself out of your comfort zone academically and socially, you always wanted to return to the warm, sun-soaked home that you grew up in. Maybe that made you more dependent on your parents still, maybe your friends saw it as immature, but you knew what you wanted to do, and you weren’t going to suffer over break just to seem like “an adult” like your friends thought they did.

“You gonna go for a swim, kiddo?”

Your dad’s voice pulls you out of your thoughts, focusing your eyes back from the wide aperture they had fallen into as you stood mesmerized by the water moving down below you. Clearing your throat, you cross your arms over your chest as you turn back to your dad at the grill, the clicks of the gas burners lighting aflame while he twists the dials at the front.

“Maybe later. Once this attempt of Mom’s to get the first gossip on the new neighbor is over.”

Your dad laughs softly at your lightly satirical joke at your mother’s expense, shaking his head and giving you one of those looks that says ‘just do as your mother says like you always do.’

“Well, you can relax plenty later. Just be on your best behavior for the neighbors, will ya?” He laughs at his own comment, the sarcasm coating the request he’d made. You’ve never made waves in your family, in your friend group, in your neighborhood. Always known as the “sweet girl” to your older neighbors, the “golden child” to your peers and your family. Your initially reserved nature gives everyone the impression that you are a polite, kind Southern belle. If only they could read minds.

Flip flops thwacking with each step as you cross the deck again, slipping inside through the sliding door. Skating past the kitchen quickly before your mom can rope you into helping with more preparation, you take the stairs two at a time to get up to your room to get ready.

You’d be lying to yourself if you said that there was a small part of you that was excited to meet Joel. The majority of you burns with embarrassment and is dreading having to face him after getting caught in your voyeurism this morning, but with how attractive he was, it could be a bit fun to have him as a neighbor next door.

Which is why you’re standing in front of your full-length mirror, hair fixed up from the state it was in when he first saw you and a short, light blue sundress on. Eyelets and embroidery covered the dress, the square neckline was framed by cap sleeves. It was modest enough to keep your intentions for dressing up hidden from your parents, but it was revealing enough to make you feel confident to face your hot neighbor for an official introduction.

The next half an hour is spent following your mom’s instructions, most of them being silent points of her finger while she’s absorbed in another task. Every so often you make eye contact with Chris through the patio door, him in the middle of the same treatment from your dad out by the grill.

At one point, your mom is so tunnel-visioned that when you finish the last assignment she’d given you, you slip out to where your dad and brother are now lounging in the chairs around the table on one side of the deck. The metal scrapes against the wood as you pull out one and take a seat, sighing gratefully when Chris passes you a beer from the cooler next to him. The cap twists off with a hiss and a pop, the water from the melted ice dripping onto your chest. As you tip the bottle to your lips and dab off the water before it runs down your skin to the neckline of your dress, the Millers walk up the steps at the side of the deck, tumbling greetings over each other.

Your dad stands, your brother behind him as they take a few steps to meet Joel and Tommy halfway. Polite handshakes are exchanged while you get up out of your seat, beer left on the table to go get the embarrassment over with.

Sarah stands shyly next to her dad, her little shoulder completely encompassed by her dad’s hand as she looks up at all the men around her starting to talk about the latest Astros game. You smile softly at her and give her a wave as you move to stand with everyone, a slight smile growing on her face at someone acknowledging her. She steps away from her subtle hiding place next to Joel, the movement causing Joel to glance down at her before his eyes turn up to you.

A friendly smile ticks up one side of his mouth, brown eyes speckling with caramel highlights as he squints in the sunlight to take a step forward and reach out his hand to you.

“I’m Joel, the new neighbor.”

You give him a firm, polite handshake with a warm grin attached to it, nodding your head.

Please dear God, or whatever is out there, don’t let him mention this morning.

“It’s nice to meet you, sir. Hope today hasn’t been too much of a nightmare moving in.” Nerves bubble in your stomach, but you can’t help but feel them turn to butterflies when his eyes darken ever so slightly at the word ‘sir’, hand quickly falling out of yours and resting back on Sarah’s shoulder as he clears his throat quietly.

“Hasn’t been too bad, right bug? You wanna introduce yourself?” His eyebrows raise encouragingly to his daughter and the nickname warms your heart, watching as Sarah grows more confident to stand up straight, a smile on her face.

“My name’s Sarah,” she directs towards you and then turns to her dad, waving him to crouch down to her level so she can whisper at the not-so-subtle kid's volume, “What do I say after that?”

Joel chuckles lightly and whispers back to her quietly enough for you not to hear. He stands up straight again, watching Sarah.

“It’s nice to meet you, miss!” she turns to Joel again, beaming proudly, “Is that right?”

He nods and looks back at you as you laugh softly, a wide smile on your face from the adorable and incredibly polite greeting Sarah’s given you. His own smile pulls larger as you bend down to be at eye level with her, warmth emanating from you introduce yourself just as Sarah did and fall into conversation with her.

She tells you all about her last school year in the first grade, her favorite toys, and how excited she is for her summer camp. The two of you have moved to sit next to each other on the outdoor couch, your drink forgotten next to you as you listen to the bubbly seven-year-old.

Joel and Tommy stay in conversation with your dad and Chris near the grill, standing around in a semi-circle and making small talk about sports, weather, and the sturdiness of your deck. Joel and Tommy mentioned having a contracting business together, and your dad ran with it, asking them every question under the sun about the longevity of the build that was done a few years ago.

Your mom comes out to join them for a bit, sitting with you and Sarah as you talk with each other before she gathers all the meat fresh off the grill to bring inside and finish setting up everything.

A few more minutes pass before your mom pops her head out and calls everyone in to make a plate. You stand up and wait for Sarah to climb off the couch, following behind her bouncy curls. Everyone’s made it through the door ahead of you, except for Joel as he lingers to wait for his daughter. One of his hands finds her head as he carefully ushers her inside, turning to you with a sincere look in his eyes.

“Thanks for keeping her entertained. She loves to talk, doesn’t really get that from me,” he drawls out, his accent a bit thicker than yours. You shake your head, waving a hand at him to dismiss him.

“She’s the one keeping me entertained, I’m surprised I’m not boring her with my lack of summer plans to discuss. She’s very excited for day camp,” you chuckle quietly, still standing less than a foot from Joel at the sliding door. You can smell the body wash he must’ve used in the shower before coming over, fresh eucalyptus and birch mixing with the richer cedarwood and bergamot of what you assume is his cologne.

“Oh, yeah. Big time. She was begging me to sign her up finally this year and it made sense with my work schedule getting busier. But, still, thanks for hanging out with her.” He nods toward the door, gesturing for you to walk in ahead of him. His hand hovers behind your back as you step in ahead of him, fingers brushing your dress lightly before he quickly pulls them away.

You stand to the side to let the guests go through to get their food first, Joel helping Sarah put everything she wants onto a plate while balancing his own. Tommy happily starts eating what’s already on his plate halfway through the line, earning a jab in the side from his older brother. Once everyone’s gotten what they wanted, you all pile back outside to the deck to sit around and eat.

The table isn’t large enough for everyone, so it ends up being your parents, Chris, and Tommy sitting around it while you, Joel, and Sarah sit around the patio lounge set. Sarah happily sits on the ground at the coffee table, you slipping a cushion down for her to rest on before sitting in one of the chairs across from the couch.

Joel’s settled next to his daughter, facing you as he wipes his mouth with his napkin.

“So, uh, your dad said you’re going into your last year at TCU? What’re you studying?”

“Public Relations and Advertising. I’m hoping—”

“She wants to move to Boston!” Sarah interjects with a mouthful of hotdog bun.

Joel looks at her with a gently reprimanding look, “Bug, please don’t talk with your mouth full. ‘S not polite.”

He turns back to you after patting his daughter’s curls, lips curled up to one side.

“Boston, huh? What’s all the way up there?”

“Not here,” you laugh softly, shrugging your shoulders as you stab a piece of potato salad with your fork, “I love Austin, don’t get me wrong, but living here my whole life and going to school only three hours away in Fort Worth feels like I haven’t seen much outside of Texas. Plus, there’re some good agencies up there and it’s not as scary of a move like New York or Los Angeles would be.”

Joel nods in understanding, speaking up after he finishes a bite, “I get that. Haven’t lived anywhere but Austin my whole life, but I can understand wanting to experience new things.”

You might be imagining things, but you swear you can hear his voice drop deeper in the last half of his sentence. It sends a flutter between your legs, and the back of your neck burns with chagrin.

Conversation continues to flow easily between you and Joel, and Sarah, too. Your parents don’t ask you to help clean up because you’re so invested, laughing quietly at his subtle humor and smiling widely when Sarah adds in her commentary or tells a story.

Tommy and Chris join you all on the lounge furniture, falling into a wider group discussion of neighborhood politics and what fun things you and Chris got up to when you were around Sarah’s age.

Joel’s eyes stay trained on you whenever you're speaking, even glancing at you when you’re both listening to someone else. The eye contact from him stirs your stomach and hitches your breath, your own stare avoiding his when it gets a bit too intense.

Hours are consumed quickly, the twilight blue skies dimming your backyard so that only the porch and string lights illuminate the deck. Low light and the late hour have soothed Sarah to sleep, her small frame tucked into Joel’s side. He keeps a hand on her back while she rests, everyone looking at her tenderly.

Joel asks you and your mom if you know of any other neighbors with young kids that are going to the park district day camp for the summer, wondering if there’s a possibility to carpool or arrange some care for Sarah when he’s got a busy schedule.

Not knowing anything yourself since you don’t live here full time anymore, you turn to your mom and watch as the gears turn in her head, eyes lighting up with an idea.

“Actually, haven’t you been looking for a summer job, honey? Maybe you could nanny Sarah! Drop her off when Joel can’t, pick her up every day, and watch her until Joel gets home from work. That is, if you’d be interested in that, Joel.”

Your mouth opens and closes as you try to stutter out a response, feeling a bit flustered at your mom’s out-of-the-blue suggestion. Plus, you aren’t sure you could manage to work for your hot neighbor and to see him often; it was one thing to have a crush and pine freely from afar, but spending time in his house? Seeing him every day?

Your thighs press together as your mind races with thoughts about more of Joel in all aspects.

Being the ever-so-polite Southern daughter you were raised to be, you turn to Joel with a glittering smile and nod despite the stomach acid creeping up your throat with your nerves.

“I’d love to help out if you need it. Spending my summer with Sarah would be fun.”

At your confirmation of the offer, Joel pauses for a moment to look down at his sleeping daughter, heading swinging back to you with a boyish grin on his face.

“Guess that solves my problem then. Think you can start next week? Her first day is Wednesday.”

Arrangements are made with Joel as the Miller crew gets ready to leave, your own family have said their goodbyes and retiring inside to clean up after the night. Joel and you stand on the deck next to the stairs that lead to your side yard and over to their house. He shifts on his feet, passing Sarah from his arms to Tommy’s for his younger brother to get her home.

Joel’s arms stretch up briefly, giving you the slightest peek at the bottom of his stomach when his t-shirt lifts. Saliva floods your mouth as the thought of kissing there when you’re on your knees for him passes through your mind quickly.

Stop thinking about him like that. Yeah, he’s hot but he’s also now going to be employing you.

“Thanks again for offering to nanny, Sarah. She’s gonna be real excited when I tell her in the mornin’. You sure you don’t wanna take the out now?” His hands shoved into the front pockets of his jeans, a coy smile on his face.

“It’s really no problem at all. Like I said, I think it will be a fun summer.”

There’s no hidden meaning to your words, but for some reason Joel drops your stare after you speak, glancing down at his boots before he raises his head again, his smile a hint wider.

His drawl coats the words as he replies, “Well, it’s definitely gonna be somethin’, sweetheart.”

Joel turns on the heel of his boot, bounding down the short staircase and over toward his yard. He looks back once, a short wave raised towards you as he calls out a ‘goodnight’ to your frozen frame on your deck.

The front door of the Miller house clicks closed and you finally exhale the breath you didn’t realize you were holding in. Slow movements carry you inside and up to your room, flopping down to your bed on your back. One had rested on your stomach filled with butterflies, the other over your heart to feel the quickened rhythm.

Joel was right, this summer was definitely going to be something. And you were eager to find out what exactly it could be.

series taglist: @beskarandblasters @undrthelights @swiftispunk @joelsversion @clingontolife @elizabeth01585 @wandaandellie @asirenbyanyothername @ellenmunn @ja-ehyun @livinxdeadxgrl @sw33tp1xie @starsandsaints07 @marisemonteiroo @brunetteeras @whydontyoysaynodoja @beee-haw @shmaptainshmerica07 @jenna-mcgraw19 @whore-4-pedro @spursgirl14-blog @katifefe @joelmillerswifu @itsgiorgiaz @soph55 @grapejuicesny @wild-hearts-runfree @youcancallmeelle @lisa-ru @jupitren @ziggy-star @miaispunk @oneofutoo @starkovli @thatgeminigirlx @marchai @bunnyskisses @houseofballoonsth @casual-obsessions @pedro-pascal-lvr @bimbodolls-world @burningnerdchild @tuquoquebrute @mrsvedder12 @estelivi28 @helllsent @bongsrconfusing @addictedtotlou @brittmb115 @angie2274 @owod3 @pedrostories @pedroholicx @theelishad @johnwatsn

#joel #writing #joel miller #joel miller x you #joel miller x reader #joel miller x f!reader #joel miller smut #joel miller x female reader #joel miller x afab!reader #joel miller fic #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller fanfic #tlou fic #tlou fanfiction #tlou fanfic #joel miller x yn #joel miller x y/n

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littledovesnow · 4 months

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any era snow with a sick s/o? 🫣🫣

even if its just a cold i feel like hed 100% worry over them

first of all, i love the 🫣 emoji it's one of my most frequently used ones teehee. second of all, god i love protective worry-wart coriolanus

Keeping the mug of steaming coffee under your nose, you relished in the temporary relief it provided for your congestion.

"Do you want me to call Coriolanus?"

You peered over the mug at Lucky Flickerman, who had stopped pruning his mustache to look at you, worry on his face.

Shaking your head, you gripped onto the back of the chair next to you while the world teetered for a moment. "No, I'm fine. I don't want to worry him, it's the first year Coryo's working as a Gamemaker, he needs to be focused."

Lucky chose not to comment on how your "fine" sounded more like "find" with how congested you are, but the frown on his face persisted.

"What's with that look, didn't your mother ever tell you if you stay like that it'll freeze?"

Lucky was going to reply, but a rough cough from deep in your chest cut him off. "That's it, you're going home."

"You're not my boss." You replied, though you agreed with the brown-haired man. "But yeah, I think I should go home."

Lucky had an assistant at the studio call for a car, patting your back as you were caught up in another coughing spell.

"Don't tell Coryo." You pointed a finger at him, dropping into the plush interior of the car.

Coriolanus closed the door to the apartment you two had recently moved in to, trying to let go of the stress and work-related issues at the door.

He frowned when he heard a hacking sound from the bedroom, and he noticed your bag and coat strewn across the couch. You usually weren't home until later, helping out where you could at the Capitol News studio.

"Love?" He called, walking down the short call to the bedroom.

"No, no, don't come in!" You said, pitiful look on your face. "I'm sick, and you can't get sick, the Games are coming up."

Coriolanus tsked as disregarded your command to stay out of the room, instead pressing the back of his hand to your forehead. "You're warm. Why didn't you have someone call me at the Citadel?"

Shrugging, you leaned into Coriolanus' cool hand, relishing in the feeling against your feverish cheek. "Didn't want to worry you, it's just a cold."

Coriolanus sucked his teeth, disappearing into the bathroom for a moment and re-emerging with a small glass of water, setting it on the bedside table. "I always worry about you, love. Cold or the plague, you're the number one thing on my mind."

You rolled your eyes at the plague comment, knowing you could be quite the dramatic person when ill. "That's sweet, Coryo. But you're going to get sick, and then Dr. Gaul will unleash one of her mutts on me if she finds out I'm the reason her star pupil is sick for the Games."

Laughing, Coriolanus patted your comforter-covered leg as he quickly changed into something more comfortable. "Why don't you grovel in the thoughts of what mutt she might unleash while I work on some soup, hm?"

"Oh, please call Tigris. I don't want to have food poisoning on top of a cold!" You called, breaking into a cough at the end of the statement.

Coriolanus shook his head as he walked out into the kitchen, following your wish to phone his cousin and have her make some soup, knowing he wouldn't do the Snow recipe justice.

send some blurbs here!

#young coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus x reader #hunger games imagine #hunger games x reader #hunger games tbosas #coriolanus x you #coriolanus snow

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foreverrandomwritings · 11 months

Note

Hi can I request this [ CARESS ] for one muse to possessively kiss the other in public with hangman from the jealous prompts? Thanks 😊

Steel Beach Party

Summary: Hangman has been annoying you for months now. When the ship has a Fathers Day steel beach party you get annoyed when you see him talking to another girl. What will you do to gain his attention back?

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x afab!Reader

Warnings: Jealousy and fluff?

Word count: 1349

Masterlist M's Hundred Celly Masterlist

They had used the excuse of fathers day to host a steel beach party. Everyone had gathered on deck for the food, games and music. You’d been stationed on the ship for almost two years now as a Medical Officer. You had gotten to know the crew and the occasional cocky aviator when they came aboard. But you had never met an aviator as cocky as Jake “Hangman” Seresin. He had been an annoying thorn in your side since the second he stepped foot on the USS Ranger.

He would follow you around all day everyday. It started off as occasionally asking you out. Where exactly? You had no clue. Being on a ship really narrowed the options of date nights to none. When you kept turning down his offers the pestering of asking out turned into coming to you for miniscule things. He got a paper cut, he stubbed his toe, he had a headache, he thought he might have heartburn or he swore he had a cough last night. No matter how much you tried to avoid him he always seemed to find you.

He would walk around with you asking you questions about yourself. Where you grew up, how old you were, how long you had been in the navy, your favorite color and your favorite animal. You honestly thought he had asked you every question under the sun at this point. But he hadn’t asked you to attend the steel beach party with him. You didn’t let it show but it had actually disappointed you quite a bit.

He had been wearing you down over the months he had been here and if he had asked you to the party you most likely would’ve said yes. But instead he had left you alone for almost two full days. As you sat on the deck talking to one of your fellow Medical Officers you noticed him flirting with a Gunnery Officer. You tried not to let it affect you but after the third loud laugh let out from her you decided two could play at this game. You knew him and Rooster were always butting heads even after Hangman had saved him and Maverick. It was a constant pissing contest between the two and you knew it would be easy to use Rooster to get under the blonde's skin. So you did just that, excusing yourself from the conversation you were half paying attention to and sought out the mustached aviator. It didn’t take you long to find him, he was sat with Phoenix and Bob playing an intense game of battleship.

“Need an extra player?” you asked him sweetly standing by the empty chair next to his own. He looked up at you as you spoke and then darted his eyes around the deck until they landed on Hangman. Then his eyes were making their way to your own, one of his eyebrows quirked up. A silent question that you answered by sitting next to him.

“You any good at battleship?” he asked you with a shit eating grin on his face. He would jump at any chance he got to piss off Hangman.

“I’m one of the best players on this blasted vessel.” you told him as you looked at his board. You realized quickly he was losing. “It also looks like you could use all the help you can get.”

“I definitely think that's an understatement.” He said as his eyes worked across the board. The game went by slowly as you methodically picked apart Bob and Phoenix's board.

“He’s been looking this way for almost five minutes now.” Rooster whispered to you his mustache tickling the side of your face as he did so. You let out a quiet giggle as he did it again.

“Stop doing that.” you said as you slapped a hand to his bicep pushing him away playfully. He gave you a wide grin in return. You turned back to the board as you were about to land the final blow to two seater teams last ship.

“D6.” you said with certainty which had them both letting out loud huffs.

“How the hell are you so good at this?” The female pilot asked you.

“Might be from all the years I’ve been stationed on ships like these. Guess I just picked up a thing or two.” You said with a nonchalant shrug. Rooster threw his arm across the back of your chair. Then he was scooting you closer to him.

“How about we play another round?” he asked the three of you.

“I’m game if you are.” You replied looking at the duo across from you.

“We’re game.” spoke Bob in return. Roosters thumb came up to graze across the skin of your arm that was exposed by your t-shirt when a shadow came and blocked the sun from you.

“Can I help you?” you turned and asked the pilot standing beside you.

“I need to speak with you.” he bluntly replied, glaring at Rooster.

“We were about to start a new game, can it wait?” you asked with a flat tone, looking annoyed at the interruption.

“No, it’s urgent.” his voice had more drawl as he started to become impatient.

“Do you need me to kiss something better, Hangman?” you asked him using one of his corny lines against him.

“Yes actually I do.” he said before surprising everyone around the table by bending down and landing a kiss on your lips. After only a moment you pulled back quickly staring up at him wide eyed. The three aviators around you had all moved away from the table quickly leaving you alone with the cocky aviator.

“I didn’t know what else to do to get your attention. There’s women falling at my feet all around this ship but I’ve been following you around like a lost puppy for months now. I don’t know what it is about me you don’t like but I desperately want to change that.” He said as he squatted down next to you so your eyes were level with each other.

“I’ve heard from plenty of women how the infamous Jake “Hangman” Seresin plays his games. I won’t be a piece that is used and thrown out after you get bored of it.” you told him honestly. He shook his head as one of his hands came up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

“I don’t know if you’ve noticed or not but I haven’t so much as looked at another woman that wasn’t you since I boarded this ship.” He said as his hand came to cup your cheek.

“What about the Gunnery Officer?” You asked him to which he let out a sigh dropping his hand from its place on your cheek.

“Just another thing I was hoping would get your attention.” his voice came out a whisper as he looked down at the deck beneath him.

“Well it worked, the only reason I was sitting with Rooster was because I knew it would make you jealous.” you reluctantly told him as your fingers hooked under his chin. You gave him a peck on the lips as he made eye contact with you. He gave you a smile so unlike the ones you’ve seen on him so far that it unnerved you.

“Would you like to go to the steel beach party with me?” he asked you hopefully, you let out a breathless laugh at the silly question.

“Yea, I’ll go to the steel beach party with you.” you told him to which he sat in the chair next to yours and wrapped his arm around her shoulder.

“Promise me not to get that close to Rooster again?” he asked you as he played with the material of your shirt.

“Promise not to get close to that Gunnery Officer again?” you asked him in return, turning your face towards him.

“Promise I won’t.” he replied.

“I promise I won’t either.” you said back as you realized he was going to be a permanent thorn in your side now.

A/N: I want to thank @indynerdgirl for giving me this idea from this post. Also a thank you for the darling anon that requested this! Thank you all for reading this! Reblogs, likes and comments are much appreciated! Happy Fathers day y'all!

Tags(open): @wkndwlff @sylviebell @eternallyvenus @loving-and-dreaming

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