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#some of us concerned about idiotic writing
yueebby · 7 months
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sooo i read your "indulge me?" piece and that's why i wanted to ask for gojo simping for reader that doesn't really seem him as more as a friend and he's fine with it (lol he's not but he's need to keep the facade you know???) hope you write it at some point! btw loving you writing so far <333
11:34pm — gojo satoru
contents. highschool!gojo, fluff, he’s so in love bye, underage drinking, tokyo and kyoto students have a little get together!
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“what’s wrong with him?” utahime watches her white haired underclassman down another can of beer. it was rare to see gojo drinking with the rest of the group, always opting for a soda instead.
shoko takes another swig out of her drink, unsurprised. “[name] is on a date.” 
a pathetic groan leaves gojo’s lips and the upper half of his body is splayed over the kotatsu in shoko’s room, sunglasses long forgotten somewhere. he lets out an unapologetic burp. everyone at the table spares him a glance of pity. 
utahime grimaces and mutters a quiet, “gross”. 
“don’t provoke him,” geto scolds shoko, flicking some ash from his cigarette to the ashtray below. “she’s just dealing with clan matters. arranged marriages and whatnot.” he used his free hand to land a firm pat on gojo’s back. what kind of best friend would he be if he didn’t try to comfort satoru? 
“poor thing. i can keep you company in the meantime,” mei mei’s smile is far from something with good intentions. gojo shakes his head to refuse, but with the way his forehead was pressed to the table, it looked comical. like a child throwing a tantrum. 
the only thing that managed to get gojo satoru out of his drunken slump was a soft knock on the door. he could recognize that pattern anywhere. could it be–? the snow haired boy immediately perks up. his drunk dazed eyes brighten as he quickly makes his way to the door. 
geto snorts at the way his best friend reacts. he thinks he can see an imaginary tail wagging, as if he were a dog. 
“you’re late!” gojo accuses you when he opens the door. you blink.
“are you…okay?” your voice is laced with concern as gojo’s large frame towers over you. gojo preens.
“awww, is my [name] worried about me now? don’t worry, ‘m doing just fine!” there is a goofy grin painted on gojo’s face as he leans against the doorway. all conversation has stopped and every sorcerer was listening attentively to gojo's hopeless conversation with you. utahime can’t help but feel just a little compassion for the boy. he was pining so much it hurt.
“i wasn’t worried. it's just that your words are all slurred– don’t tell me you let shoko talk you into drinking with her again?” you sigh. it was hard to miss the smell of beer on him. gojo and alcohol never mixed well, and the last thing you needed tonight was another lecture from yaga. 
from inside her room, shoko shouts, “it wasn’t me this time! the idiot decided to drown himself in beer after we warned him not to!” it was common knowledge that gojo couldn’t handle his alcohol. 
the male in question pouts.
“can a man not grieve about the love of his life being married to another?” gojo deflates. on the other side of the threshold, you wrinkle your nose.
“who said anything about marriage? like hell i’m going to accept a proposal from naoya zen’in.” you grumble. it had been a long night. dealing with your family and naoya was enough to scare you into staying in jujutsu tech for good. you’d rather lose your sanity to gojo than your dignity to naoya. 
“never mind that though, are mei mei and utahime still here? i was hoping to catch up with them!” you smile, crouching under his arm to make your way into the room. gojo doesn’t hesitate to trail right behind you. 
“[name]!” utahime waves happily at you, her mood no longer sour after she sees you. your wave back is enthusiastic. mei mei acknowledges your presence.
“how was dinner with naoya?” suguru asks. your face pinches up. he laughs before handing you a cold can of soda which you accept graciously.
you hear gojo mutter to himself from behind you.
“what’s up with him?” you whisper to suguru.
“you know how he is when he drinks,” he sighs, ushering you to sit beside him. gojo seemed to have his own agenda though, forcefully squeezing himself between the two of you. you shoot him an annoyed look to which he responds with a grin on his face. 
“‘m tired,” he whines, stretching his arms dramatically while letting out a loud yawn. you grunt when there’s a heavy weight on you; gojo has thrown his entire body on your side.
you don’t bother pushing him off. you’ve learned in the two years you’ve known gojo that he is like a baby when he gets drunk. it’s best if you let him have his way.
“go to sleep then, idiot,” you flick his forehead. he juts his bottom lip childishly, looking up at you with wide eyes. his eyes are captivating and you think you see nervousness through those azure orbs.
“will you come to bed with me too?” he rests his chin on your shoulder. you raise an eyebrow in surprise.
“eh? why would i?”
“because i’m cute.” gojo bats those long eyelashes of his innocently. you roll your eyes playfully before taking another sip out of your soda. 
“you’re weird– that’s what you are.” your lips quirk upward, eyes twinkling with mirth. he sulks, chin still comfortably supported by your shoulder.
“‘m not that bad!” he protests, a frown forming on his lips. you look at him for a long moment. this was the first time you’ve ever gotten to look at gojo this closely. 
his hair was getting longer, you note silently. with your free hand, you slowly move a strand of hair out of his face. gojo watches you earnestly. if his cheeks were not already flushed, they are now. 
“can we stop it with the flirting? let us single folk live in peace.” shoko speaks up. you turn your attention hastily from gojo to the rest of your fellow peers. 
“i feel like i’m intruding on something,” mei mei says scandalously. your eyes widen.
“we are not– no way!” you shake your head repeatedly. no one believes you. especially not while gojo is still resting on your shoulder, eyes watching you, full of love.
“stop giving him all your attention and talk to us! we’re much better company,” utahime scowls, pointing her beer disapprovingly at the white haired boy on you. you think you hear gojo grunt.
“alright, alright,” you concede. 
“i hope you don’t mind me asking again, but do tell us how your night with the zen’in kid went,” suguru snickers. you groan exasperatedly.
“where do i even start?”
the rest of the night goes by pleasantly. you had been so engrossed with retelling your experience with dealing with your family that you had failed to notice what gojo was up to. by the time everyone left their respective dorms (or temporary dorms), you noticed the head of white hair sleeping soundly on your lap.
he mumbles something in his sleep, nuzzling himself closer into your stomach. cute. you giggle at how innocent he looks. 
you don’t know what took over you, but you remember bending down and placing a soft kiss on his forehead. to your surprise, gojo reciprocates your kiss. to the best of his capabilities anyway. you watch as he puckers his lips in his sleep. oh my– how precious.
you suppose he isn't so bad.
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notes. THANK U FOR BEING MY FIRST ANON ASK. ily!!! i saw somewhere that gege confirmed gojo would have drunken failures when he was a student haha this is my take on that. hes so bf
also thank you for all the support on my first post?!? you guys are too sweet im crying. i literally giggle and kick my feet reading your feedback ><
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westernsunshine · 1 year
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I don’t want to have to start a whole new journal because of this man but genuinely there’s no other way to get these thoughts out
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kitscutie · 2 months
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public eye (drew starkey x fem!reader)
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pairing: drew starkey x reader
warnings: none, all cute shiz and some sexy moments. ;) shotgunning smoke, make out.
summary: all the times the public thought the two of you were dating, and the one time they knew.
a/n: sorry I've been on such a long break, life got a bit busy recently but i'm hoping to get back into writing - especially for drew! also sorry if the use of arse scares anyone - im british x
requests open!
word count: 1.8k
You and Drew has always been close. The cast were aware, the fans were aware. Ever since season one of Outer Banks came out, and both of your statuses grew, people began to dig. Your relationship friendship dated all the way back to your teenage years, doing multiple high school theatre shows together, and going on to attend the same University.
This also meant that there were a lot of photos and videos of the two of you being stupid kids, and while you had never explicitly said you were dating, even denying it to this day, there were early on suspicions.
A main one being the hundreds of photos together at family events, arms wrapped around each other, in some his jacket thrown over your shoulders as weddings went on into the night.
Though, the more incriminating stuff came much more recently, as now people knew who you were and so what was and wasn't posted was no longer in your control.
→ Sleeping Angels
The first video to cause rumours was posted onto Chase's story. It was short, only fifteen seconds or so, meaning no one was really concerned about what it might cause.
It was clearly from the set of OBX as the trailer surrounding you was littered with both cast and crew members, all shuffling around while you and drew were the complete contrast.
The pair of you were lying (quite comfortably) on a leather l-shaped sofa in the corner of the room. You could hear what you assumed to be Chase and Rudy giggling as they approached, laughing at how tightly Drew held you to him.
You were wrapped closely into his chest, arms lying softly on his wait while on of his held the back of your head, the other tucked under your t-shirt (which was actually your characters wardrobe and not your own) sitting on your back.
They couldn't see your face, but judging by Drew's closed eyes they could assume you were asleep.
Ever so gently the boys began to take gummy worms from their pockets. Each placing one in both of Drew's ears, and finally one was wedged into his mouth which woke him up.
At first, he was confused, looking down at you but upon seeing you still asleep his eyes looked up, squinting to avoid the lights. Unable to hide their humour at the situation anymore Chase and Rudy burst into laughter, Drew joining but much quieter due to his sleepy state as he threw the gummy worms back at the pair.
The removal of his hand on your back is what brought you back to the non-sleeping world. Hearing a mumbled 'fuck off' from Drew as he smiled at the two boys.
"What's happening?" You mumbled, utterly confused, hair sticking up in every direction and Drew quickly attempted to smooth it down maintaining your dignity as you were filmed.
"Nothing. Ignore these idiots ba-." The camera quickly shut off, leaving the viewers intrigued. What had Drew been about to say? Was it an accident? It was all unclear.
Of course with obsessed fans it didn't take long for rumours to fly, the main one being that the words coming out of his mouth were to be 'baby'. They were right. Thought you wouldn't tell them that, not yet at least.
→ Poguelandia
The next clip to blow up and cause hysteria was the two of you at the Outer Banks season three event 'Poguelandia'. You had arrived together and explored together, alongside Austin, your arm linked through the two boys'.
You talked to fans, played minigames and drank. Drank a lot. Which you blamed for your obliviousness when acting a bit too close to Drew for someone who wasn't dating him. To be fair, he also could've avoided it and yet neither of you did.
It happened as the cast and close friends stood atop the exclusive stage, all singing and dancing together as bands played - especially when 'Left hand free' came on.
You mostly behaved for the first twenty minutes, dancing with Madelyn, Madison and Carlacia but soon you wanted to spend some time with Drew, tending to get clingy when tipsy.
You began your walk over as the video begun, Madelyn attempting to grab your arm but it was a futile attempt as now, with him in your sights, you were determined.
The girls looked concerned before Austin- who was stood with Drew- leaned over and whispered something to them all, waving off their concern as they continued to dance and the camera now panned to you and the much taller boy.
You were talking, pressed against the edge of the silver fence which kept you from falling as the crowd kept growing around you.
As you got bumped by an unknown person Drew wrapped his arm around your waist, offering you a sip of his drink which you gladly took but soon regretted as you realised it was beer.
He chuckled with a smirk already knowing you didn't like it. Then he said something, but as the camera was miles away the viewers began to assume, and being reasonable, it did look awfully similar to 'sorry, sweetheart' before you received a gentle kiss to your forehead.
Soon after you joking turned away in annoyance, facing the stage and beginning to sway, your front pressed against the fence, back against Drew's stomach. He wrapped his hand around your waist, beginning to sway with you and you could tell the Filmer subtly freaked out as the camera jolted for a few seconds before it zoomed in further.
It showed Austin wide eyed as he searched the crowd for anyone watching. Not seeing anyone he shrugged taking a sip from his plastic cup before once again dancing with a smile.
Unfortunately, he had been wrong and once again your and Drew's relationship was being speculated.
→ Italy
The final clip of you and Drew which went viral without real confirmation of anything more than a close friendship was while he was filming in Italy.
After being spotted out and about alone for months, suddenly you appeared by his side wearing a pretty sundress, once again arm linked through his.
He wore a cap and you both wear sunglasses, looking like typical celebrities avoiding being spotted, though now it was known he had been here for months it was near impossible.
You were stood calmly in a corner attempting to navigate the way to a restaurant you were going to try when a small group of girls approached you both.
They explained they were big fans of Outer Banks and both of your characters in said show, asking very politely for a photograph in their adorable Italian accents.
They began screen recording in order to be able to capture the whole interaction, as fans often did and it was decided you would take the photo as you were in the middle, the girls on one side, drew on the other.
The viewers watched as you took the phone, hand briefly passing the camera showing a thick silver band ring, in it was a delicately carved cursive 'D'.
As soon as the girls watched the video back and saw it they posted the video to Tik Tok, it garnering as much attention as you imagined it would when showing something so potentially interesting.
What they didn't expect, however, was the further observations. The most major being the necklace that had been in almost every photo of Drews for the past few years, the charm which hung from the end now looked weirdly similar to your necklace, and the viewers couldn't help but wonder if it was a matching one of his own, with your initial carved instead of his.
It was.
→ The Conformation.
The final and real proof to all the fans who suspected you and Drew may be together was a video of the two of you at a cast night out in South Carolina at a club.
The two of you were stood outside of said club, clearly trying to cool down as both of you faces were red, Drew's shirt unbuttoned at the top, his chest rosy must like his cheeks.
He was leant against the wall of the club, legs wide as you stood between them, hands placed on his hips ever so slightly holding his shirt between your fingers.
Your dress which was black and almost fully covered in diamonds shimmered under the moonlight and you could see mouth something along the lines of 'you look beautiful' followed by you leaning forward, burying your smiling face into his neck.
His hand, which wasn't holding a lit cigarette came up to hold the back of your head, throwing his own back against the bricks in a laugh, clearly finding your bashfulness cute.
Soon enough the conversation turned from casual to flirty, body language changing in a way so blatant, you could tell from the other side of the screen.
Your hands moved from his waist to around his neck, hands linked behind his head as his spare hand held your waist, thumb soothing over the fabric covered skin every once in a while.
Realising his cigarette had been left unattended for a while, Drew brought it up to his lips, inhaling deeply. A wordless conversation ensued between the two of you as he brought you closer, mouths inches from each other as he exhaled into your mouth.
The smirk was evident on his lips as you blew the smoke from yours in turn, quickly pulling you in once again - this time your mouths connecting in a speedy rhythm.
You struggled to keep up due to his height, stretching onto your tip toes even in the platform boots you had put on for this very reason. He realised this, laughing, eyes still closed and lips still next to yours as he decided to lean down further to meet you instead.
As the kiss grew more intense, tongues now making appearance and putting on a show for the whole street, his hands reached down (having long since threw the cigarette to the ground) holding your arse between his palms.
Sadly, your moment was put to an end as a relieved looking JD ran out of the clubs door, seeing the two of you.
He patted you on the back, a blush covering his cheeks - from the heat or the intrusion it was unclear - and said something to the two of you before leaving and giving you a moment to gather yourselves.
You both stood up fixing your postures and straightening each others clothes before you shared one final peck, soon after heading inside, hands entangled.
Soon after, the video was posted onto every single social media platform with the caption, Y/N L/N AND DREW STARKEY MAKE IT OFFICAL DURING STEAMY KISS OUTSIDE SOUTH CAROLINA CLUB.
If only they knew you had been dating for years and this was most definitely not the first 'steamy kiss' the two of you had shared.
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rileyslibrary · 16 days
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Okay okay but hear me out- reader gets assigned on their first solo mission by Price and Ghost is inwardly concerned for them and keeps subtly giving tips to reader about the basics of any mission as way to prepare them
Hi, anon and thank you for requesting this! I made some minor adjustments to the original idea since I got lost in the process once I began writing. Reader is also fully aware of Ghost’s concerns and messes with him.
Fluffy, the usual banter, an emotionally constipated Ghost, yada yada. Enjoy!
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“Again,” Ghost murmurs as he shuffles through the row of tactical knives on the table. He decides on one, picks it up and walks towards you. “What is this?” He asks.
You look up from tying the laces of your boots and redirect your attention at him. He either believes you’re an idiot or doesn’t trust you enough. Either way, it’s not a good sign.
“Good question, Lieutenant,” you reply. “What you’re holding in your hands is a knife. Knives were one of the earliest tools used by humanity to-”
“Cut it out.”
“That’s correct!” you exclaim. “You mainly use one of those to cut stuff.”
A long sigh escapes him, and he throws his head up. He lowers the knife and walks towards the table, scratching the back of his balaclava with the other hand. He takes a few breaths, turns around and lifts the knife again.
“That’s not what I’m asking, and you know it.” He growls. “What kind of knife is it?”
“A sharp one.”
“Stop it.”
“You mean stab it?” you ask and continue tying your laces. “Yes. Yes, you can definitely stab with it.”
He throws the knife onto the table and leans on a chair, holding it with both hands. His brows are tied together, and you can see his jaw tightening beneath the balaclava.
“I need you to focus.” He says firmly. “This is not the right time for jokes.”
You stand up and walk towards him, now standing by his side. You grab his shoulder and squeeze it. He doesn’t budge, yet he slowly shakes his head.
“You’re worried.” You state.
“I’m not worried.” He replies. “I don’t know what Price was thinking; the stakes are too high for this to be your first solo mission.”
“So you don’t trust me.”
“Of course I trust you.” He says and lets go of the chair. “It’s just too dangerous for you to go alone.”
“So you are worried.” You whisper with a smirk.
He looks at you with the side of his eye and picks up a map from the table. He spreads it out in front of him.
“Alright,” he says, “let’s go over the route again.”
“Got it,” you nod. “So, what’s the plan?”
“What do you mean, ‘what’s the plan?’” He shouts, turning to look at you with wide eyes. “We’ve been through this-”
“-a hundred times now.” You interrupt. “Yet you still want to go over it again and again and again and again.”
“I just need you to be ready.”
“I am ready!”
“Then go on,” he says, pushing the map towards you, “what’s the plan?”
“Alright,” you begin, pointing to a door on the eastern side of the facility. “I’ll start here, at the service entrance. It’s not heavily guarded since they mainly use it for their occasional smoke breaks.”
“But you’ll still need to be cautious,” He adds.
You ignore his remark and continue to outline the route.
“From there,” you say, moving your finger along a series of corridors, “I’ll make my way through the maintenance tunnels. They’re narrow and dark but should provide good cover from security patrols.”
“And when you reach the central hub,” Ghost continues, pointing to a large room at the heart of the facility, “you’ll need to be especially careful since that’s where the security is the tightest. There’s only one entry point, so once you get to this door you should-”
“Knock.”
He slowly turns towards you and gives you a side-eye. “You’re not taking this seriously,” he whispers.
“On the contrary, Lieutenant,” you jest. “I’m deadly serious.”
“Deadly serious?” he scoffs and shakes his head. “You might end up seriously dead if you don’t pay attention.”
You roll your eyes and let out a sigh.
“When I get close to that door,” you say, pointing at the map, “I’ll wait for Soap and Gaz to manipulate the security systems and set off the alarms. Once the commotion is at its highest, I’ll infiltrate the hub, collect the intel, and escape through the ventilation shafts.”
“Right,” he says and folds the map. “Do you have everything you need?”
You turn your attention to yourself, checking your tactical vest, and he does the same. His eyes scan over every piece of equipment on you. He walks around you, tracing his fingers along the edges of your gear, checking for any signs of damage. He reaches out to adjust a loose strap on your vest, ensuring it’s securely fastened.
“You need to make sure everything is secure,” he says as he continues to search each pocket and pouch on you, ensuring that your supplies are well-stocked and easily accessible. “We can’t risk losing any essential gear during the mission.”
You follow him with your eyes and smirk as he inspects you. “Is that what worries you?” You ask. “Losing gear?”
He pauses for a second and meets your eyes. “You know what I mean,” he says as he tightens a buckle on your waist. He takes a few steps back and nods. “Everything looks good,” he concludes.
“Alright,” you nod back and walk towards the door. “Let’s do this.”
“Stay sharp out there!” he shouts.
“Yeah, yeah,” You shout back as you exit the briefing room, “sharp like a knife!”
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onlyseokmins · 10 months
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size matters • l.c.
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Pairing: lee chan x afab!reader Genres: major smut (minors PLS dni!), losers + idiots + besties to lovers Warnings: *deep breath* MONSTER COCK CHAN, swearing, love me some switch action, reader does not use specified pronouns but refers to their pussy as "she", reader also wears a skirt, pet names, alcohol and goofy drunk antics, bad humor, use of "whore/slut", tons of dirty talk, they're kinda pervs, mentions of toys, masturbation (fem), hints to past sexual partners, mentions of oral (male), actual oral (fem. receiving), car sex (kind of), condoms, fingering (fem. receiving), WAP lmao and squirting, bantering, degradation, wee bit praise, unprotected/protected MESSY sex, underwear play (??? lmao), precum play (??), edging, face-riding, groping/manhandling, objectification, reverse cowgirl position, bulge kink, slapping/spanking, possession, almost choking, biting, tears and crying, a bit of overstim and if i missed smth lmk sdfjkajdf WC: 8.3k A/N: this started out purely self-indulgent as usual and reads like a bad pornhwa but it's also nana month so a happy early birthday to @bitchlessdino because i will be asleep when the clock actually strikes 12 tomorrow! and bc i will dedicate all chan content to the loml! this is like my 3rd longest fic on this blog and 4th longest fic ever and it's just utter filth and smut... hate it here. i always get into a crazy headspace when i write for this man. i hope y'all enjoy my delusions before i retire out of shame 😬
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"I'm worried my dick's too big."
Laughter bubbles in your chest at the same time the beer you'd just taken a swig of swishes around in your mouth. It's so like your best friend to say something stupid. Especially when your mouth is full.
He frowns in mild annoyance as you rock back and forth with mirth, struggling not to spit out your drink and make a mess. But also trying to refrain from choking. Because if you die, you sure as hell will find a way to make sure everyone knows that a dumbo and his terrible concern over having a big cock drove you to your demise in such an unfortunate manner.
And no one wants that.
"I dunno what's so funny," the man in question irritably gripes, "but for god's sake, calm down and swallow."
Though it ends up that Chan is the one gulping first. Ears burning and eyes widening when you wiggle your brows deviously and do as he says. Sticking your tongue out for good measure — just for proof that yes, you did swallow —  but he's quickly whipping his gaze away. Head turning to the side as if that does anything to hide the embarrassing look overtaking his expression. 
He thinks you'll back off, hoping the nervous twiddling of his fingers will deter further teasing. But he should really know better. The telltale signs are littered across the table in front of him and even overpower your usual sweet scent when you lean close into his personal space.
"So, you like it when someone swallows versus spits for you, Channie?"
"You're drunk."
"So are you." 
Because that's what happens every movie night. The two of you enjoy too many beers after a feel-good show and start talking nonsense.
"Yeah, and we're having a very serious conversation right now. A drunk one. But still, serious."
You purse your lips. "You're bluffing. No way you're complaining about the hugeness of your dick. 'Cause no one does that."
"It's not like I'm trying to boast or even insecure, I'm just worried."
"Worried about what?" you snort and push at his shoulder. "There'd be no reason to worry if you know how to use it. In the end, size doesn't matter at all."
Chan quirks an eyebrow, side-eyeing you. "At all?" 
"If your technique is good, it shouldn't matter as long as everyone feels satisfied. You know, you just gotta hit that one spot…" 
You start doing hand motions to demonstrate your point that seem wildly inappropriate and are honestly so drunkenly uncoordinated to the point that Chan not only feels compelled to stop you but doubts anyone would feel good from that. Then again, he's never really managed to partake in sloppy sex, so who knows? 
He grabs your hands to still them and though you no longer move, you protest. "What? You'll have 'em seeing and feeling stars! To be honest… you prolly will too if ya try your best."
"You know, I do know how to pleasure someone. It's not really an issue once I'm inside, it's just getting there that's kind of a problem."
"Channie, are you secretly a virgin?" You lay your head on his shoulder, hand running down his forearm and weaving your fingers between his. "Issokay if you are."
"You know I'm not!"
"Well, yeah I guess you're a bit of a whore. Still love you no matter what."
Chan chokes out your name in frustration. "All I'm saying is that I have a huge cock and I'm sad about it!"
"And you keep saying I'm drunk. Look, you're valid in being… upset about having a fat dick even if I don't understand. Just telling you that sometimes a ton of prep is helpful and even a decent amount of lube. No shame in that. Not everyone's built to take a large-ass, whopping cock." And then you mumble extremely quietly, "If it's even that big."
Unfortunately, he hears you and scoffs. Popping his shoulder up to gently shove you off him. Though that only causes you to grasp for his sweatpant-clad thigh and hold onto it for dear support in your half-drunken stupor. The perverted part of both your brains flash to your hand squeezing tightly around something else; the unmistakable heat of said something else radiating towards the closest part of your hand and causing a hot rush to flare across your entire body.
Or maybe that's just the alcohol.
Doesn't stop you from shamelessly ogling what you can only presume to be his bulge, gray fabric stretched over his groin and straining against muscular thighs. 
"Are you flaccid right now?"
"What's it to you?"
"Just curious. Thinking about my different dildo sizes."
He balks at that. "Pl-please don't."
"Yeah, not sure I wanna compare what your dick would realistically feel inside me," you admit even if you find it difficult to tear your hungry eyes away to take in Chan's mortified expression. 
"Can we stop talking about my personal parts now?" he squeaks out and you shoot him a dubious side-eye even though you do easily acquiesce.
"With pleasure. Speaking of which…"
Chan's hushed groan of "Oh dear" goes ignored even after you drape an arm on the back of the couch behind his head, lay the other across his chest, and splay your legs over his lap. Your lips end up leaving a sticky residue on his cheek, neck, and ear as you graciously whisper your own sex secret — the spontaneous topic of tonight — to him. 
"Only my bullet vibe has the ability to make me squirt. None of the others, not even the thirteen-inch one with suction ridges. So yeah, hm… size doesn't matter, does it Channie?"
"Well, those are toys and uh… my big dick is simply what it is. A big, regular human dick. Nothing fancy."
"Then you should try harder."
He apologizes for having such blatant ignorance about the matter and then eventually you end up falling asleep together. 
Limbs tangled and wrapped around one another just like every other night you doze off with the comfort of the other's body warmth. And like usual, you and Chan peer at each other with eyelids heavy from sleep and goofy but comforting smiles — merely inches apart when the sun's rays sneak a peek through the blinds to shine onto your faces. Because everything's normal and just right between the two of you. 
Like always.
Except it's not.
All you can think about is your best friend's dumb, gargantuan cock and his weird embarrassment about it. If you didn't know Chan as well as you do, you might think he was just using that as an excuse to get into your pants but you know better. He's genuinely perturbed over his too-big dick! 
You let out a sigh. Warm breath fans the tip of your ear while large hands lay on your hips, ringed fingers teasing the bare skin revealed by the daring crop top you decided to wear tonight.
"Am I boring you, baby?"
"Kind of," you admit, displeased that you weren't enjoying the usual thrill of grinding on the dancefloor with a hot man. Turning around to face said man, you purse your lips. "How would you feel if you had a big dick, Cheol?"
He raises an eyebrow in the self-assured way only the Choi Seungcheol can. "Shouldn't you be asking what it's like possessing the largest dick of the century?"
"Not helping, I'm not talking about big dick energy."
"That's not what you said when it was shoved halfway down your throat."
"Can't say much if I'm sucking someone off, you dolt. And I said you made my jaw hurt 'cause you're a guy that likes it rough, not 'cause I thought your dick was overly huge."
"Brat," Seungcheol says rather affectionately, "so whose humongous cock are you taking tonight?"
Your eyes wander over his shoulder to the bar, the same place he noticed your gaze strayed towards all night. A glee-filled smirk is on your face when you meet his eyes again though you only casually state with a shrug, "An absolute loser's."
"Wasn't aware it was self-pleasure night, sweetheart," he jokingly snorts, nudging you in that direction before you can get too mad at him. But not without delivering a playful slap on your ass as a 'good luck to charm' to send you on your way. "Go get 'em, Tiger!"
The cocky bastard must think you're after Soonyoung tonight, who greets you by placing a polite kiss on the cheek and a casual side hug. Though he looks hella fine tonight with slicked-back hair and donning the signature head-turning 'leather jacket, silver jewelry' fit that Seungcheol is sporting, he's not who you have in mind.
You squeeze him back though, always ready to return the affection you receive. "Rare to not see you dancing, tough crowd tonight?"
"Nah, I just have my priorities set." He angles his head toward the bartender who sneaks subtle glances at the two of you as if to distinguish what intentions you had approaching such a striking man. 
That they just so happen to have their eyes on. Luckily Soonyoung does too.
"Ah, well, so do I!" 
Never one to want to get stuck between two people and cause a potential misunderstanding, you pat him on the arm, wink encouragingly at the bartender, and skip away to find the person who's been occupying your mind for the past few days in a very different way like crazy.
Chan hasn't moved from where you last caught sight of him — in the corner of the bar nursing the same glass of bourbon for far too long. There's distinctly more water in it from the rapidly melting ice ball than alcohol but you still ease it out of his grasp. Taking a sip only to wrinkle your nose in disgust.
Your best friend observes your expression with a bemused one of his own after you hand it back, lip gloss staining the rim. A far cry from the darkened, sultry stare that followed as you moved from one gyrating body to the next. You wonder how you've never noticed it before. But then again, you yourself have never thought about him in that kind of way until now. 
While momentarily lost in your thoughts, Chan's working on getting the attention of Soonyoung's flirt target to order your favorite drink. But you place a hand on his arm, squeezing the firm muscle beneath your fingertips. 
"I wanna go home."
"What's wrong?"
"Nothing, just feel like leaving."
He shakes his head. "You looked like you were having a good time."
"Ooh… are you jealous?"
"Hah, jealous? No. Concerned that someone did something you didn't like? Yeah."
"There will be," you tug him by the open collar of the flannel he's wearing so you're nose-to-nose, "if he doesn't take me back to his place right now."
His eyebrows raise, eyes widening as they drop down to the pouty curve of your lips. You swear he even peers at your cleavage with the tiniest of squints before finishing what little bit of liquor is left, standing, and pulling you along with him outside.
Walking to his car parked by the sidewalk is truly a breath of fresh air, the chill of the evening breeze and city noises rushing by helps bring Chan back down to earth. No longer on the crazy high fueled by the hypnotic, seductive thrall of the nightclub's booming bass that adds to him being wholly entranced by your teasing allure. 
Now it's just you and him. Simple as usual, getting ready to drive around.
"You want to go to my place?"
"Yeah."
He starts the engine, checking the side mirror to estimate when there will be an available opening to pull out. "Whaddya wanna do, stop somewhere for snacks?"
"Sure. Maybe condoms too."
"I'm sorry, what?" It's a good thing the car's still in park when his foot stomps on the gas pedal out of shock, revving the engine and making you both jump. "Why?"
Chan even goes as far as to steal a glance over his shoulder at the backseat. As if you had miraculously snuck in someone from the club that you were planning to fuck and he didn't know about it. 
There's no one there, of course.
"Why… are we picking up… condoms?" he repeats. "I um, I have a bunch of unopened boxes i-if you need them."
"You do? Good."
"Uh, can you at least let me know how many are used so I don't suddenly run out?"
Your eyebrows raise though he doesn't even dare look at you. "Do you think you'll cum that much?"
"Pardon?! N-no, I only have a surplus because I bought them in bulk!"
"I thought you weren't having sex a lot because you have such a big cock. One that rarely goes inside anyone."
His hands cover his face. "I'm saying it's fine if you want to use them!"
"Gee, thanks. You want me to make condom balloon animals or something?"
One brown eye glares at you between fingers. "… If you're into that."
"I bet extra large ones would make brilliant animal balloons but that's a sad waste when they could go around a dick instead. I mean it can't be easy for you to find ones that don't break. Whatever, at least you have a ton. And as you know I'm on the pill."
He has to know. He has to ask. "Are you confused or is it just me?"
"Clearly, because I don't know why you think I'd be into filling condoms with air and not cock."
"Forgive me if I'm wrong, but — I mean like there's no way — but are you implying that you want to… you know, with me…?"
"Whaddya mean 'no way'? Fuck yeah, I wanna fuck you! Sorry, was that not clear?" 
Chan chokes on his saliva and has a brief hacking fit. "No?!" 
"Damn, uh… my bad. Sorry, I thought it was super obvious. Simply put, I can't get the thought of you out of my mind or my pussy, so yeah. We should totally bang. Have sex and all that. Only if you want to obviously. No hard feelings if not."
Oh god, yes he does. Since he now knows that you can squirt, let alone with something as small as a little bullet vibrator, all he can think about is what would happen if he teased your cunt with the thick head of his cock. It's been driving him absolutely feral and fueled a rather ugly feeling when he saw Seungcheol all over you earlier. 
But now that he knows you want him? Maybe just as much as he wants you? Explicitly? 
He starts driving in an attempt to help collect himself. You're at ease, able to read him well and know he'll need some time to process and organize his thoughts. So, you wait in silence while he does just that, and when he speaks again his voice is low, laced with utter desire.
"You've been thinking about me?"
"Uh-huh."
"Your pussy has too?"
"Mhm, Channie… she's been crying for you like crazy."
"Fuck," he mutters and grips the steering wheel tightly to avoid swerving into the berm. He rasps out in a desperate beg, "C-can you touch yourself for me? Let me hear how loud she is?"
And you sweetly oblige with a hushed, "Of course," and can't lift your miniskirt up faster than you do now, pushing the drenched thong underneath to the side. Your clit's been buzzing nonstop ever since he whined about his big cock and you got to glimpse the outline of it. And with him now sitting beside you as your thumb rubs at the tiny nub, pointer fingers dipping in and out of your clenching hole, you both let out groans — you at the thrilling sensation and him at the insanely filthy sounds.
Chan steals a moment to take in the sight when he switches lanes, loving the way your tongue lolls past glossy lips that part to release little whimpers of pleasure. It's unlikely you'll squirt right now. But there's still a slick sheen of arousal glistening on your thighs so he holds onto the sick twist of hope that a trace will be left behind. He's pleased and licks his lips but has to swiftly pay attention to the road again, especially when your head rolls to the side, eyelashes pleadingly fluttering at him.
He needs to get home fast. Now.
The car fills with the sloppy noises of you playing with your cunt which grows wetter and wetter by the second. The air is heavy and oozes sex, the compact space growing more humid as you work and rile up your pussy, yourself, and the man beside you. You keep easing up to that delicious edge but never fully dipping over it, making sure to continue growing needier and more wanton until the blurry scenery rushing past the windows half-registers as familiar in your already fucked-out state of mind.
"Wanna get a feel of your cock," you whine out with no shame at how pitiful it sounds. "Gotta know how many fingers to stuff inside to stretch myself out for the real thing."
The way he spits out your name like a curse word makes your gummy walls contract tightly, emitting a moist suctioning sound when you pull your fingers out and bully them back in. 
"No. You have to wait."
"Don't wanna! Been waiting long enough."
"So fuckin' needy," he taunts as if he's not panting heavily with his fingers drumming against the steering wheel. "I don't think they'll come even close to opening up that tiny hole of yours effectively for my dick. But size doesn't matter, so whatever. Right, sweetheart?"
You cuss him out jokingly while working knuckle-deep inside your cunt. Humping against your palm and pulling at your nipples with the other hand underneath your top when he rolls to a stop at an empty four-way in the neighborhood. 
He swats your arm out and away, curiously sweeping his own fingers across your damp folds that flinch at the sudden contact but still mourn the devastating loss of being filled before he slaps at them. Chan grins like a total heathen at the way your hips jolt upon impact, growing more and more delirious at the way droplets of your arousal splash out at the action.
"If you cum by rubbing yourself on that seat — no hands — before I pull in the driveway, I'll let you touch me to mentally prep yourself before we get inside. Before I get inside you." His words are enunciated with a smirk that drops after bringing soaked fingers to his lips — eyelids fluttering with a grunt at your taste eagerly licked clean with his tongue. "God, do you know how delicious you are? Need you to sit on my face at some point, wanna drown in that sloppy pussy."
His dirty talk could be enough to finish you off, you belatedly realize. The earlier command to rut your aching clit against the scratchy fabric to soothe it makes you thrillingly feel like a depraved whore. 
"You're a fuckin' perv, Chan," you growl out as if you aren't doing exactly what he asked on instinct and loving how he's talking to you. How good he is at making you feel divine.
"Yeah? But I want something to remember this by."
"Sick," you snarl through gritted teeth like the knowledge of him thinking about this moment every time he gets in his car and looks at the passenger seat isn't getting you off even more. Bonus points if he jerks off to it. You act like it's not the catalyst to you coming undone, blaming it fully on the bump of the asphalt connecting to the concrete driveway hitting your hard nub just right — absolutely defiling his poor car with your arousal. "Sick in the head."
Neither one of you care. 
In fact, Chan's so pleased he ignores the words you both know you don't mean. Grabbing the hand you buried deep within your hole, but then chose to use it to grip at the console while following his command, and guides it to his mouth. Happily repeating the same thing he did to his own, maintaining eye contact as he tongues at your fingertips. Pupils dilating with how addicted he's become to your taste. Growing more and more eager to have it straight from the source in the very near future. 
Then he places your spit-coated fingers where his cock strains against dark jeans. A darker, damp spot on the denim signifies how much precum the tip is leaking, begging to be released. He squeezes the hand sandwiched between his and the hardening length, shallowly thrusting up into your palm so you can completely grope at its mouth-watering, jaw-aching girth. 
"Feel that?" he goads, "that's gonna have to fit inside your tight cunt."
Your eyes nearly cross at the realization. And of course, your pussy forlornly clenches around nothing, dripping out more arousal to add to the already soiled mess beneath you. 
Oh, you cannot wait.
He wasn't lying, positive every single finger stuffing your hole couldn't compare to the size you just felt beneath those very appendages. Tears collect at your lash line, already anticipating the sheer amount of pleasure you know you'll be feeling with a very warm and real dick. And he's not even anywhere inside of you yet!
Chan coos and wipes the tear that escapes to your cheek. Then he gets out of the car and comes around to the other side to help you walk since your legs are weak and shaking — for more than one reason. That's fine because it gives him almost a weird sense of pride and an excuse to grind and grope at you as he pleases while unlocking the front door. Surprisingly, both of you are giggling together as if you're naughty teens again, always up to no good. It feels strangely wholesome, a light sense of relief blooming and filling your entire body.
Until you're on the other side of the door and those feelings morph back into something carnal. More primal. And Chan must feel it too because you swear he growls when pinning you against the wall. 
"You'll let me eat you out, right? 'Course you will." 
Now it's your turn to feel perverse satisfaction, watching as his lip trembles at the very thought of getting denied such a treat. Feeling the man's absolute desperation through the fingertips that dig into your hips and slightly hike up the already ridiculously short skirt you're wearing.
"C'mon bestie, please."
"… You did not bestie-zone me right now."
"I — " Chan hesitates and you fear the reality of the situation has hit him. That he'll back out and leave you a yearning mess like this. But then he leans in close to whisper hotly against your ear, "What, you want me to call you something like baby?"
Your hum of consideration encourages him to continue, palms sliding down the sides of your bare thighs and lowering himself at a pace that matches the syllables of each word leaving his mouth. Keeping eye contact with you the whole time as a mischievous smirk lights up his stupidly handsome face. 
"Darling? Babe? Lovely sweetheart? Or…" His voice gets thicker, more gravelly until he's finally on his knees and peering up at you. "A vixen? Seductress? Little whore? My slut?"
His hands sneak upwards again, pausing when they're hidden under the pleat of your skirt. 
"Still, you'll always be my dear best friend." He acknowledges and for some reason, it fills you with a comforting sense of reassurance.
And then he waits, hoping — praying — to get your permission.
The coy way you lift up the skirt in no way matches the cute grin you flash at him. Biting your pointer finger as you reveal your pretty pussy for Chan, its puffy lips spread by the continually soaked thong stuck between them. His eyes flick almost nervously away from yours to get a look, letting out a strangled moan at the sight. 
Automatically drawn like a bee to honey. His heart thumps anxiously when your fingers bury in his bangs to yank at them, halting him just short of being able to stick his tongue out for a taste that he already misses. He whines, fully surrounded by the heady scent of your arousal and unable to feast. But you have something to tell him first.
"You can't make me cum."
"What? Why? Need to stretch — "
"No. I already spent hours practicing with my thirteen-inch, so it'll be fine. We're doing this so you know what the telltale signs are when I'm about to cum when this," you briefly release his hair so manicured nails can pet the outside of your glistening wet cunt, "is wrapped around your dick." You smile when he moans quietly at the revelation and you tug lightly again at silky strands, eager to hear more before you absolutely break him. "And don't you want to see me squirt?"
"God, yes."
You shove his face between your inner thighs. "Then this'll help, baby boy. So, don't you dare let me cum unless it's on your cock."
Chan really can't protest against what you call him and honestly wouldn't want to because that would mean leaving the delectable meal he's finally being allowed to dine on. Though your thong remains in the way, he uses it to his advantage. Sucking all the wetness out of it with a hearty groan of appreciation, pushing it back between your folds, and running his tongue that put it there in zig-zag motions along the sorry excuse for fabric. Then repeating the same motions on either side of the bare supple pussy lips that clench at every nibble, suck, and brush on them.
It isn't very long until he gets frustrated by its restrictions though, feeling outrageous at how jealous he's getting of a piece of cloth that gets to wrap around your cunt all the time. Like you can read his mind, you pull him off with breathless laughter at his inevitable moan of sadness and mumble words of reassurance that you're doing it for his benefit.
He can't really hear with the rush of adrenaline roaring in his ears but he surely sees how you rip the offending thong away. It tears easily, falling apart at its most sodden point. And finally, your pussy is truly bare all for him and he rushes to dive back in. Slurping and sucking at your drenched hole like a dehydrated man finding an oasis in the desert.
Again, Chan's intentions were to leave you weak with the magic his mouth and tongue could work but you don't really allow him. His neck's cranked at an awkward angle as you continue to grip at his hair and smother his lips and tongue with your cunt, sloppy ruts back and forth causing your clit to catch and bump against his nose. He doesn't mind even if he's ninety-nine percent positive this is how you'd get off on one of your toys — no, he definitely has not imagined that — but he's not complaining.
There's something in the way that you're utterly using him like he's nothing but an object for your ultimate pleasure. It has the blood rushing down to swell up his cock even more. And maybe he's willingly happy to do so. Offering his body for your pleasure, making sure to stiffen his tongue so it will hit part of your clit as you move and grind all over his face. 
It's kinda hot. He also might be enjoying this a little too much.
And just as his eyes roll up for the umpteenth time out of delicious, delirious dizziness, he feels it. 
The buildup must have been when you started humping his chin shamelessly, slamming down harshly enough that he's sure he'll have bruises to show off. Settling more and more of your weight forward to arch your back, breasts heavy as they follow gravity, and your nipples visibly poke through the crop top's thin material. 
Your hips jerk up and away a few times, the subtle wiggle in them certainly has your ass jiggling cutely. He also notes how your "ah" moans turn to "mhms", positive you're biting your lip with closed eyes and a pleased grin. By now the hands tangling in his hair have made their way to the back of his head and Chan knows one thing for sure.
You're on the brink of climaxing.
And as much as he wants you to make more of a mess on his face, he's a little afraid of what you might do — or might not do — so he obediently, but regretfully backs away and sinks down to sit on his heels. Pathetic, the way he has to simply watch like a good boy as your slit flutters above him and you release the death grip hold you had on his poor hair.
Once all of your weight is supported by the wall again, you slide down it to plop on the floor. A sheepish grin on your face as you praise him for doing such a great job, reveling in what a sexy, fucked-out look he's wearing — mussed-up hair, swollen lips, and a shiny mix of sweat and arousal decorating his face as his eyes struggle to refocus while he catches his breath.
He embarrassingly thinks you might kiss him when you lean in. Only to jolt with surprise at your hand slipping into his back pocket and he flinches after you squeeze at his well-shaped ass with a naughty giggle. 
"A souvenir," you murmur in his ear and he feels the spongy ball of your torn thong when he stands like it's a gold coin weighing down his jeans.
"Can't believe you ripped those yourself."
"Can't believe you didn't rip them."
"Didn't wanna ruin them," he admits because he'd honestly feel bad. Though you shoot him a funny look that he doesn't quite understand as he assists your wobbling frame on the walk to the bedroom.
"Dude, you've already ruined so many, what's one more pair?"
"Huh?"
It's amazing how serious you are when you ask, "Don't you remember how wet I've been getting thinking about your dumb cock? Almost ran out of panties to wear."
With that admission, Chan is immediately rushing you down the hallway and has you on his bed at record speed. It's so comical that you have no choice but to once again fall into that giggly headspace like earlier as you help one another strip each other's clothes off.
"God, why are you like this? Such a fucking little tease."
"You love it."
"Hm, yeah," he looks at you with such tenderness, "guess I do."
You verbally agree even as you grab at his wrist before he can throw his boxers to the ground. "Hand 'em over. It's only fair if you have mine," you point out when he raises an eyebrow.
"Someone's full of surprises."
"Well, somebody's loved all of them so I'm sure he'll like this one too."
Though he falls onto his back easily when you push him down, he can't help but raise concern. "I get that you… practiced, but wouldn't a better position be with me on top? You'll like — "
"And I get that you liked being used like a dildo, baby boy." 
You miss the chagrined look that rapidly spreads across Chan's pretty face at the callout. But that's okay because you turn around to throw a leg over and straddle his prone body, staring at your prize of the night — the fattest dick you've been fantasizing about in the flesh.
"Thanks for these, by the way." You send a wink at him over your shoulder, waving the boxers that dangle off your pointer finger. "Need something to bite onto," you add and moan when you deliberately let your tongue meet the salty patch of precum smeared on them before clamping the black cloth between your teeth.
His heavy cock jerks up, already overwhelmed by everything you're doing. His hips follow suit, also lifting once the feeling of your dripping cunt soaks his abs as you sit and press him back against the bed and reach a hand out. He groans, clutching at the blanket when your palm rubs at the sensitive skin. You marvel at how your decently sized fingers fail to fully wrap around the entire girth.
It already weighs a ton laying against the hand you're using and struggling to prop it up. Shining in all its glory from the excess that's leaked and coated it thoroughly. You seem happy to add to it and Chan's eyes widen at the couple of clear globs of arousal that drip out of your cunt, aided by two free fingers spreading your pussy lips and contracting your inner walls to squeeze them out. And then you sink a little lower, kissing the tip of his cock with your clit before rubbing the thick head between your folds.
"You're… you're so w-wet, mhm, fuck!" He's already on the brink of tears and this is just the beginning. And the gasping man might've just let out a sob at the sight of both of your hands shaking, clasped around his dick as you position it at the right angle and slowly ease the tip inside. "God, 'n so soft," he fucking gargles out due to how much he's drooling.
You're no better off. The saliva that's pooling in your mouth at the delightful ache and burn has completely saturated his boxers. They do nothing to muffle your moans that only grow higher in pitch with the few additional inches you attempt to take, a little more each time. But at least you won't grind your teeth together, plus you're buried in the taste and scent of Chan's essence. Even more so as you topple forward, nails digging into his shins.
It's almost humiliating. How you've ended up face-planting into the mattress and your hips take on a mind of their own, humping up and down midair yet still on the top of his cock. Circling and gyrating as they attempt to both run away and plop firmly up and down onto the hard, thick length begging to fully bury into your tight cunt that's slowly widening to accommodate. 
Luckily, it's not like Chan can make fun of or even blame you, focusing everything he can on not thrusting up into your wet heat on his own accord right now out of consideration. The man understands it's a stretch, a painful one at that.
He doesn't mind staying mildly distracted. There's so much to take in. Ogling the way your ass bounces and jiggles, pornographic sound effects of his cock absolutely bullying your pussy as it squelches in and out. Filling the room with nasty noises audio porn wishes it could truly replicate amid both of your pants, moans, groans, and whines.
It feels like forever until his length has finally made its home within your squishy walls that welcome it inside with a multitude of affectionate squeezes. But honestly, that barely lasts because your hips refuse to let up and once the stretch no longer burns as much and instead melts into mind-numbing pleasure, all you can do is ride him into delirium. And Chan fucking loves it, continuing to watch how your ass reverberates with each downward slam accompanied by the sting of ass cheeks slapping against his stomach over and over again.
"S-so slutty f'me, b-best friend actin' like a whore on my dick."
"Ah, mm… cock… your cock! It's makin' me act slutty!"
"Yeah? You like being my slutty best friend, baby?"
You lug your head onto the leg you'd been riddling with love bites and salivating all over after spitting out his ruined boxers, looking tearfully in his direction. Cross-eyed with a goofy smile on your face at how fucked-out you've become as your clit grinds against his squishy balls that tighten, firm, and fill up with each thud of your hips. 
"Mhm… yeah."
"You gonna be my slutty baby from now on?"
"Ohhh, touch me Channie… please!"
"Since y-you asked so nicely." He squeezes at your ass cheek though it's quickly wrenched out of his grasp because you can't stop moving. "But I… I asked you a question." And then his palm flies out, skin meeting skin in a loud crack against your other cheek. As if it's actually a punishment. "My pretty whore's too fucked out to answer, h-huh?"
"Mhmph! More… more!"
A gasp leaves your mouth and impossibly, your hips only speed up before they suddenly halt. Practically screaming at this point with how good your best friend's cock is buried so deeply and fully seated inside as you somehow manage to sit up with inhuman strength. 
Oh, but your darling Channie knows why.
He lazily grins, empty mind now playing all the signs through his head along to the same moments happening in real-time. You have a death grip on his thighs, certain he'd really impale you in a morbid way if you lose your hold as you bounce haphazardly. How nice, he decides to aid you — giving into the urges to thrust up into your suffocating little cunt whenever you rise up so you constantly remain stuffed full every single time.
Your back does its arch thing and he runs a hand down the curve, pushing down ever so gently as he takes over. It's his turn for a slapping assault, his balls returning the favor on your tender clit that pokes and rubs at them, egging on the brutal pace you started in the first place.
"Gonna squeeze the life outta me," and you clench even tighter around him so that even the air in his lungs is sucked out by the squeeze of your cunt. "You wanna murder me with that sweet pussy of yours? Choke the life outta me, sweetheart? Like the well-behaved little whore that you are?"
Chants of "yes, yes, yes" fall in between salacious moans of "mhms" and "fuck Channie, so good" and it fuels Chan into true unleashed feral mode. The addition of the white ring forming at the base of his cock in no way, shape, or form is helping to reign him in at all. He presses appreciative bruises into the skin of your hips, aiding your sore and tired legs with the powerful strength of his arms.
"A creamer too… oh my god, what can't your cunt do baby, fuck — so freakin' perfect."
"All… all for you!"
Chan laughs and it's mean, a petulant frown causing your lips to jut out at his mocking tone. "For me? You gonna be a-all mine from now on? Let me be the only one t-to stretch this sweet hole out?"
Ongoing cries of "yes" mixes and slurs with "yours" but it's enough for him, especially when you manage to moan out with a promise that you're definitely his slutty whore and will only be his forever.
That pleases him, an elated grumble rumbling in his chest. "Gonna fill 'er up real good and you'll swallow me whole baby. Feel me for days, drippin' outta — ah, shit!" 
His voice cracks, the hands assisting your movements haul your hips up and then down, anchoring them firmly against his pelvis. You peer over your shoulder at him in utter dismay at suddenly being empty. His missed cock trembling without your warmth, flopping hot and hard against your stomach. Granting a helpful outside visual of how deep it can drill up into your cunt. But that's kind of useless when you already experienced it first-hand, so all you can do is send Chan a weepy glare.
"S-sorry babe, we just, I should probably… " His eyes dart to the unopened drawer of his nightstand. "Gonna throw a condom on."
You let out a scoff of disbelief and discontent, surly brat behavior poking through. "Doesn't matter, wanna feel you fill me up. 'N then squirt it all out, won't matter anyways."
"That's not how it works."
Chan's grateful the usual post-nut clarity somehow hit before. It's still awful timing and might have been a complete mood killer but you're both so worked up — you in particular — it doesn't seem to matter. Even as he nudges you off while reaching for a package, you back up and try to grind against his cock to change his mind. But you reluctantly give up, especially when he ends up reacting with a harsher hiss more from rolling the latex down the sensitive length than your plump ass rubbing it. 
You're honestly a little offended. 
He hushes and tries to soothe you. Fumbling with the slick mess around your gaping hole and dipping inside occasionally with one hand as he works on the condom. But you know for a fact you've been ruined because you barely feel a thing after your cunt's been stretched out for and filled specifically with his huge cock. 
Now you just wish he'd ultimately finish the job of ruining you. Oh, and maybe continue some more after. And a lot. 
You grimace because you're able to think too much. And then Chan's finally all ready to go and your cheek is suddenly pressed into the rumpled sheets, nipples brushing deliciously against them. You're pushed onto your forearms and he helps widen your knees at a spread angle so your pussy is fully presentable and gapingly accessible. 
"Good thing I'm flexible." 
"Yeah," Chan licks his lips, "just as I'd expect from my sweet slut." 
"You gonna fill this slut up then, Channie or — " 
You're cute off by the squeal at his cock ramming back inside of where it belongs. Meanwhile, he chuckles darkly, running a hand through sweaty bangs as he tries to distribute weight solidly with how he's risen to his knees. Finding little support from the mattress to support the onslaught of powerful thrusts in and out of your pussy and discovers a better method with a tight hold of your hips where his hands instinctively fall. 
"Best way to shut a whore up is to fuck them." He clicks his tongue in disapproval because you're nuzzling face-first into the bed, muffling the sounds that drive him crazy. "Doesn't mean I don't wanna hear you moan f'me, baby."
What he doesn't know is you're trying to find something to bite into that won't end up being your poor tongue. 
To manhandle you as he sees fit, Chan's fingers slip down to splay around where your vocal cords lie. Thumb digging beneath your jawline into the soft fleshy skin of your neck. Teasing you with a not-quite-there chokehold that causes you to pulsate around the cock sliding in and out with little resistance thanks to the help of the slick that pools endlessly out of your core. 
Then he's turning your head to the side to watch your eyelids flutter rapidly. Noticing how your jaw is clenched, teeth practically gnashing at each push into you that now relentlessly strokes that bundle of nerves. Taking pity, he lends a finger. Prying open your mouth and not caring when you bite down on it with a ferocity that could break skin — that's what he offered it for anyways — though it will definitely leave behind bruising indents that'll take days to heal. 
But he wouldn't care if you ended up breaking his bones too. With the way he's driving his dick over and over into you like a madman, he possibly could break something by that alone. The new position benefits the both of you greatly, granting him a better angle to reach deep and you find comfort in the way his body lays against yours. Pressing you down further into the bed, the weight comforting.
Even through the latex, he can feel the little bump of nerves his tip brushes against that's just rough enough to make him shiver. He purposefully aims his pelvis to be able to hit it each time. The lone arm at your hip wraps around your abdomen and he moans at how he can feel the bulge of skin pressed against his forearm from the size of the monster dick within you. 
It drives him feral, punctuating each sharp thrust with a praising hiss of, "Best. fuckin'. pussy. ever!"
And then it's happening. You can literally see the tightly-wound knot unraveling. Can feel as it loosens while your cunt suctions around his cock in a hard, vice-like grip. You cling around him, refusing to let him leave your warmth for a second. Not even daring to let him slide even a bit out. Though he wouldn't even think of it. As the mental ties come undone in your brain, so does your body — plummeting over and free-falling off the cliff of pleasure.
White flashes across your vision as your body writhes and shakes beneath Chan. Overcome by how fucking amazing it feels to be so full with the devastatingly huge dick of the person you care about the most tearing apart your insides. You're sobbing, tears drenching your face and where it lays. 
Chan's praising you through it all, complimenting how good you are for him, how perfect everything about you is, and how only you — his bestest, sluttiest, sweetest friend — could take him so well.
"Fuckin' knew you would be the one," he confesses and presses a kiss against your neck. It's so tender, full of love and gentleness despite how his hips cruelly still haven't let up, and it makes you wail even louder. "Ever since you smiled at me. Now, c'mon sweetheart 'n give it all to me. Show's only just gettin' started."
He's guiding you through the most intense orgasm you've ever had as it spirals from a crashing wave into a soon-to-be gushing waterfall. Yes, you've squirted before. But never with such a delightful buildup like this. And he knows you can take it, knows it's what you want as he coaches himself to hold off from his own finale. You let out a hearty moan, shaking at the overstimulation and feeling him twitch repeatedly inside. Almost as if his dick itself is begging for your release so it can do the same.
Your body listens and obeys, utterly charmed by your best friend's cock. Not like that would change the impending fate bound to happen anyway. Your cunt expels him out with a spray that splashes against his abs and drips down his thighs. Chan swears and grabs his length that bobs in the air upon being freed, fingers holding the condom tightly at the base like a makeshift cock ring. 
Furiously jerking off just a little bit to reach completion and then he's emptying what feels like a life's worth into the poor condom that can barely contain it. Unlike your pussy that would take it all if given the chance. It inflates, ballooning out and filling up with so much cum it's threatening to pop. As if it wasn't working overtime, straining around the sheer size of his cock.
It's so full and heavy, gravity weighing it down to flop against your folds that squirt out a tiny bit more upon contact that has your legs seizing. Your lower body — now growing numb — was somehow still sustained by Chan's insane one-arm strength until he flops onto you. Bringing you both down onto the wet mess on the bed.
"Get off, you're heavy," you grouch though a dumb smile lights up your blissed-out face.
He laughs breathlessly and rolls onto his side, bringing you into his arms and looking at you with stars in his eyes. You nuzzle into his neck, inhaling his comforting scent you never want to be without now that you've been fully encompassed by it in such an intimate manner. So you wait, feeling the way your hearts both beat rapidly and he takes a deep breath. Chest expanding as his lungs fill with much-needed air after so much exertion. 
Anticipation brims from the crown of your head to the tip of your toes when Chan finally asks, "Hey, do you still think size doesn't matter?"
You blink. Once. Twice. Thrice. Definitely not the question you were expecting.
There's a lively spark still dancing in his tired eyes and you match it with a playful smile. "I'm not really sure, I think you'll have to prove it to me a few more times."
"Suppose there's still a lot of condoms we can't let go to waste."
"Aw, you don't want me to make you some balloon animals?"
"That offer is tempting but…" Sneaky hands tickle the swell below your breasts and you giggle, half-heartedly batting him away. "Not as much as you are."
"And you know… there's still a lot of chances to confirm some things while we test out whose theory is right."
"Confirm what, my dear? 'Cause I'm pretty sure I've already staked my claim on what's mine." It's embarrassing how easily Chan can read you, a know-it-all smirk on his face as he cups your warm cheek oh-so-lovingly. "My slutty bestie's the only one who can take my cock like a champ, there's no way I'm letting you go now."
It's even more embarrassing that your heart and sore hole flutter at crude words that totally shouldn't make you feel like a silly fool in love. But because you are, it only makes you fall harder.
"So, you're mine now too?"
"If that's okay with you."
And of course, it's okay with you, you verbally affirm. Feeling his smile against your own when he leans in to kiss you. You'll confirm later that size really doesn't matter.  After all, you just happen to be lucky that your bestie-now-turned-boyfriend has a huge cock to complement the equally huge amount of love he has stored for you in his heart.
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onlyseokmins: June 2023 ©
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notjustjavierpena · 17 days
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you have returned! hope you’re doing ok! i miss husband!javi like i’m missing a limb!
this got me thinking about a request - husband!javi having to go away for a work trip for a few days - comes back and like cute family time. once the kids are in bed he just goes crazy about reader, she’s tired but she handled the kids no problem and is kind of like no big deal about it. and he’s just feral at that. she’s such a good mum and he’s so turned on and he missed her and just ugh smut
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A/N: This is a request from the 17th of October 2023. Anon, I hope you are still with us. I loved writing this for you, and I hope it lives up to your expectations. Thank you to proofreading as always @angelofsmalldeath-codeine !! thank you for hyping me @theywhowriteandknowthings and @pinkypromisepascal 💖❤️
Summary: Javier returns from a business trip after being apart from his family for three whole days.
Pairing: Javier Peña x reader (no y/n)
Tags:  +18, domesticity, a happy family, javi having a baby in his arms and spending alone-time with his kids needs its own tag, i love yous, pregnancy, playful and teasing hubby, touch-starved, banter, dirty talk, finger-fucking, talk about female masturbation, pussy eating, loud reader, piv sex, riding, nipple sucking, lactation kink, javi gets off on you being the mother of his children, multiple orgasms, creampie, intense sex, bliss, pillow talk
Word count: 8k
Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54409297
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The sound of the door has you sprinting towards it. You throw your arms around Javier’s neck before he even manages to put down his bag, causing him to drop it and make a noise of concern in case its contents may end up spilling out on the floor. If you have to be completely honest, you don’t give a damn right now because you haven’t felt his embrace for nearly three whole days. 
“Hola, baby,” he says with a voice that tells you that he is smiling. He holds you close to himself, one hand reaching around your waist and the other one settling on the back of your head. He presses your body into his own, and you try to keep yourself from making a noise that reminds you of a schoolgirl. 
Javier has been on a work trip out of state. It happens from time to time that some department of the state gets the not-so-incredible idea of hiring him as a motivational speaker to make their conferences look more interesting than they actually are. Javier hates it but the money is good and his boss always ends up encouraging him in a way that mostly sounds like he has no choice. 
You hate it too. The act of sleeping in your bed alone, not feeling his body heat, and not being able to simply reach out for him if you need him, is torturous. Combined with taking care of three children alone, you find yourself slowly becoming a less-than-ideal version of yourself. It’s a stressfully romantic reminder that you can barely function without him.
“Hi,” you grin widely as you pull back to receive a kiss. You splay your palms on his chest, scratching slightly as he pecks your lips repeatedly for a moment. Your whole body feels like it is made up of butterflies fluttering around each other in a romantic dance. 
“Thank God that’s over,” he reaches for the suitcase when you finally allow him to step out of your arms. He walks into the kitchen, “They were talking through my whole fucking presentation, and the meetings afterward… I was just daydreaming about coming home to you and the kids the whole time.” 
“That bad?” You follow him around like a puppy. If you didn’t know that he would do the same thing had it been you arriving home, you would find yourself slightly pathetic for being such a fool for him. 
“I should’ve said no this time,” he says as if it had ever been an option. You nod as he continues, “I do it every year and I feel like an idiot each time.” 
“We need the money,” you argue, finally moving away from your husband to go to the living room where Sebastian is lying on a blanket. He squeals in delight at seeing you, and you pick him up with a coo. 
“We don’t need the money, we’ve got enough money,” Javier says from the kitchen. 
“Come say hi to your son,” you change the subject and hear Javier’s steps come closer.
“Oh, there he is,” Javier says and his voice switches to baby talk as you hand Sebastian to him. He settles him on his hip, bouncing slightly where he stands, “Te he extrañado tanto, mijo (I have missed you so much, my son).”
Sebastian gurgles happily up at his father. His eyes are full of recognition at the sound of the  familiar voice. You swear that you can see a little bit of the exhaustion in Javier’s eyes disappear. 
“He’s been really patient with his mom these past couple of days,” you say with a chuckle, “No fussing during naps or nothing. Almost like he knew I needed the extra sympathy.”
“Bet your momma handled everything way better than I could, huh? What do you think?” Javier shifts Sebastian to sit on his arm instead so he can blow a raspberry on his face. He smiles softly at you afterward, turning his head towards you so that he and his son are cheek to cheek, “Is that wrong to assume?”
“I still think you’re better with them than me,” you say simply. 
He tuts, “Bullshit.”
Sebastian makes another happy noise at hearing both of his favorite voices. He swings his tiny fists, and Javier grabs one of his hands, “If this one wasn’t so fixated on playing peek-a-boo, he’d agree. Suppose we all have our vices.”
You move past him with a roll of your eyes and a smile on your face. You go to check the food on the stove, and from behind you, Javier sniffs the air. He walks to join you by the counter, “What are you making?”
“Tu favorito (your favorite),” you smile at Sebastian instead of looking at him, leaning in to bump your nose with his tiny one. Sebastian grabs at your face. 
“No te merezco, mi amor (I don’t deserve you, my love).”
“We eat in twenty minutes,” you inform after lovingly shaking your head at him. He leans in to kiss you again and you know immediately that this is just one of many kisses you will get tonight. 
“Where are the rascals?” He asks. 
“In the garden,” you reply and open your arms, “Give him here and go say hi. Inés has been going on about you all day, so please save me from hearing more about her super-duper-awesome Daddy.”
Carefully, Javier hands over Sebastian, “I thought you liked her super-duper-awesome Daddy.”
“I think I might actually love him,” you grin and try not to feel silly at your sappiness because you do actually love him so much that it is stupid. Sebastian clings to you as soon as he smells you, resting his head on your shoulder and bunching his fists in your shirt.
Javier kisses you once more before heading to the door to the garden. You hear him leave it open, and watch him go outside and step off the porch with a hello. 
“Hey there, gremlins!” He shouts. Inés and Lucas, both engrossed in their own activities, look up at the same time. Their faces light up at the sight of their father, but Inés is the one who makes a noise so loud that you can hear it in the kitchen as if she’s speaking right next to you. 
Both of them come charging whilst shouting for him. you smile fondly at the sight of them colliding with their father who lets himself be knocked backward into the grass with a happy laugh. He wraps his arms around them and squeezes them tightly, “How’ve you been? I’ve missed you.”
They both look up at his face, speaking enthusiastically at the same time until he can barely tell what is going on. Their stories of the events of the last three days weave together until it is nonsense, and they don’t seem to notice that he cannot follow along with what they are saying. He ruffles their hair and sits up with them still cradled in the crooks of his arms, “Wow wow wow, uno a la  vez (one at a time).”
“I made a tower of blocks that was taller than me!” Inés says proudly and Lucas seems to let her have the spotlight for a moment. He knows that she’ll get distracted and run away soon anyway, giving him his own chance at talking to his father. Inés talks loudly, “Mommy took a picture. She said that you needed the evi— evin— uhh… evindance.”
“Evidence,” Lucas corrects her with a superior smirk. 
“That’s what I said,” she huffs. 
“Nuh-uh,” her brother protests and ducks out from underneath his father’s arm. 
“Ya-huh!” Inés removes herself from the embrace too. 
“Alright, that’s enough,” Javier chuckles, “I’ll have to ask mamá for your picture. It sounds really cool.”
“Can we build one together?” She asks with a hopeful voice, “Pleeease.”
“Let’s save it for after dinner, mija (my daughter), okay?” He suggests, “And then I’ll build a tower that’s double the size of you before you gotta sleep.”
“Really? When?” Inés reveals that she still has no real concept of time. 
“After dinner, baby,” he says again, winking at Lucas who grins, “Go ask Mommy when we’re eating.” 
She is up in no time, running towards you in the kitchen. It leaves Lucas the perfect opportunity to have his moment. He gets up from the ground, his jeans covered in green patches, and starts walking towards the swing set that Javier built a few years ago. 
“Dad, you need to see what I’ve learned!” He says. 
“Alright, let’s see,” Javier pushes himself to stand with a groan and follows, crossing his arms over his chest and watching his son get onto the seat of the swing. By clutching the chains tightly, Lucas pulls himself to carefully stand up on the swing seat. 
Javier finds himself about to protest, instinctively holding out a hand to be ready for a potential fall. However, Lucas seems to have everything under control as he holds the chains tightly with both hands. He speaks as he starts swaying back and forth, looking hopeful for approval from who he knows to be the bravest man in his world, “I practiced all day yesterday!” 
“Eres increíble (you’re incredible)!” Javier cheers but then smiles smugly, “Does mom know you’re doing that?” 
“She told me not to,” he admits shyly. 
“Well, I haven’t seen anything,” Javier winks. 
“Thanks, Dad,” it sounds genuine, happy to keep a secret. Lucas lights up, “Wanna see me jump?”
“Even your old dad has limits,” Javier laughs with a shake of his head, “Get down from there. No jumping.”
“Fine,” his son grumbles. 
When he is on the ground, you pop your head out of the door to call them inside, “Dinner time,  chicos  (guys). Lucas, come in here and wash your hands.”
You smile as they approach, and when Lucas has walked past you, you stop Javier in the doorway and curl your fingers around his tie, “You better wash them too, Peña.”
The sun hangs low on the horizon when dinner ends. You start gathering the plates and glasses, and Lucas joins in without hesitation which gives Javier a glimpse of what happens when he isn’t home to take care of you. Maybe his son can sense your exhaustion too. He feels a pang of guilt in his stomach but decides to make up for it by getting his daughter ready for bed. 
“Come on, mija (my daughter),” he says, picking Inés up from the floor and throwing her over his shoulder to make her laugh, “Pajamas first and then building blocks.”
He carries her upstairs to the bathroom and helps her into her pajamas, braids her hair the way she likes it, and then gets her toothbrush. She spends the whole time babbling about how she’ll grow taller like her mother and thus they’ll have to build a higher tower each day. 
“Open up,” he says, sitting on the lid of the toilet with her standing between his legs. He holds her toothbrush in front of her mouth. 
“Do you think I’ll be taller than you someday?” She asks with her childlike eyes, and Javier has to tap her chin to make her remember to open her lips. 
“No, because I’ll just wear very big shoes, even if my head bumps against the ceiling,” he tells her with a grin, “C’mon, teeth brushing time.”
Inés grimaces but follows through and he has to shush her several times because she wants to keep talking.She even sports impatience on her face as her father wipes down her mouth with a damp flannel to rid it of leftover toothpaste. She looks ready to bolt out of the door, fidgeting slightly on the spot, “You promised we could build a tower before bed.”
“And we can,” he reassures, turning the flannel over to wipe the tip of her nose playfully. She crinkles it and reaches up to rub it afterward when he moves to hang it on the laundry basket, “But we’re getting ready for bed first. Hair okay?”
She nods, not entirely convinced that she gets to stay up longer after having brushed her teeth but when Javier has put her toothbrush back in its place in the medicine cabinet, she beams as he allows her to run off to her room. He follows behind, arms stretched out in front of himself, “I’m coming to get you, mija (my daughter)!”
“Nooo!” She squeals in delight, trying to barricade the door with her tiny body but he is too fast and manages to reach her before she can even close it. He picks her up by her middle and holds her upside down, shaking her gently while  she laughs and laughs. 
“Mi monita (my little monkey),” he laughs too. 
They spend half an hour as the architects of a tall and colorful skyscraper, Inés too impatient to see the tower reach her own height to care much for aesthetics. Javier tries suggesting a storyline of a castle but his daughter shakes her head. 
“Stop, Daddy,” she commands and he holds up his hands in surrender. 
“So no princesses live here?” He questions, “Not even a dragon? Or maybe a—” 
“No,” she deadpans, steadfast just like Javier’s father has told him he was. He smiles when she isn’t looking, not about to get scolded by a 4-year-old for not taking their playtime seriously. He enjoys the little moments he has like these, seeing the way his daughter imitates his own behavior in a way that would make your teasing never-ending if you saw it. At that moment, he despises himself and his job because he has to leave sometimes and thus misses out on things. He should have been here when Inés built a tower as tall as herself by herself, not see it in a photograph later. 
Eventually, the construction gets too tall for her to build it even taller. Javier is put to work immediately after she realizes this, and she oversees his work with important nods and looks of assessment. 
“Look, Daddy!” She exclaims with each building block that Javier places on top of another. She stands beside the tower because she needs to compare her height to it, and Javier has to keep a hand on her shoulder to steady her when she gets close to making it tumble down, “Do you think it will reach the ceiling?”
“One day I’m sure it’ll reach the moon,” he replies as if it is a fact, “I for sure am tall enough.”
“No, you’re not,” she furrows her brow, thinking, “But we will just have to get a very big ladder.”
Finally, Javier has built a tower double her size. It stands wobbly on the floor. He nods towards it, “There you go, mi amor (my love), do you want to put the last block on top? The triangular one?” 
She nods and he notices the telltale signs of Inés’ tiredness because her eyes have started drooping. She rubs them with a little sigh, and then holds out her arms so he can pick her up and place her on his hip. 
She places the block carefully on top after Javier hands it to her. It is like all energy reserves have been used up from one moment to another. However, he doesn’t want to risk the unsteady tower falling over in the middle of the night, so he whispers in his most mischievous voice, “Do you want to knock it down?”
“Can I?” She widens her eyes. 
“Sí, pero no se lo digas a tu mamá (yes, but don’t tell your mom),” he confirms, “Perhaps a big angry monkey swung from it whilst roaring like this!”
He imitates King Kong the best he can and is thankful she has no clue what it is, and she repeats after him only to push on the stacked blocks until they tumble to the floor. He kicks the remaining pieces with his foot, and she roars again. They laugh together until she yawns.
“Alright, es hora de dormir (it’s time to sleep),” he announces then, and she doesn’t protest. He shifts her slightly in his arms so she can wrap herself around him with both her arms and legs, burying her face in his shoulder. It’s clear that she has missed him. He rubs her back with both hands before holding her in place, moving towards the bed in the corner of her room. 
Gently, he lays her down and crouches down beside her afterward. He pulls the covers up over her head on purpose and earns a giggle, “Oh no, where did Inés go?”
“You’re silly, Papá,” she says. 
“Go to sleep, baby,” he tells her after tucking her in properly this time, “You are so tired. I will see you tomorrow.”
“Thank you for playing with me,” Inés says with a yawn, turning on her side to look at him better. She softens a little as her eyes start to flutter closed, her father’s hand running over her head. Another yawn comes, “Te quiero, Papá. No me gusta cuando te vas y no me gusta extrañarte (I love you, Dad. I don’t like it when you leave and I don’t like missing you).”
Javier sucks in a breath. He rubs the spot between her eyebrows, trying to keep his composure, “Lo sé, mi vida (I know, my life). I love you too. Sleep well, okay?”
“Okay,” she slurs, and then her breathing slows. He tucks her in one last time, leaning in to kiss her hair softly before stretching carefully to his full height. He makes sure to turn on her night light before turning off the overhead lights, closing the door ever so gently afterward.
He lets out a deep breath right outside her room and smooths two fingers over his mustache. He hasn’t told you about this yet but he is considering quitting his job, has been considering it very seriously since Christmas when he promised to cut down on work significantly to be home a lot more with you and the kids. That and the fact that you are carrying his fourth child, and leaving you home alone with all four in the future just seems cruel.
However, it’s a comment like the one he has just received from his only daughter that sets it in stone. His search for other jobs is not a mere idea any longer but rather a necessity if he wants to continue being happy with his family. 
He has to tell you and he is dying to already, but first, he wants to unpack and then tuck Lucas in too. He has three days of goodnights to catch up on. 
He enters Lucas’ room half an hour later to the familiar sound of his son’s Game Boy, its rhythmic beeps and pings accompanied by the frantic tapping on its buttons. Lucas is sitting cross-legged in his bed, already wearing his pajamas and with his face illuminated by the screen of his console. 
“Hey Dad, can you knock? I’m losing my concentration,” his son says without looking up from the screen, already sounding so grown up that Javier has to tighten his grip around the doorknob. Where did the time go? 
“Ay, Lucas,” he tuts and crosses the room to stand by the bed, “Soy tu padre (I’m your father).”
“I just really don’t want to lose,” he explains and starts tapping away on the buttons again, his stare still fixed on the little jumping character. Javier waits for a moment, following his game by looking over his shoulder. 
When enough time has passed and Lucas seems to relax a bit more, he interrupts again, “Alright, time for bed, muchacho (young man).” 
“One more game!” Lucas finally looks up with pleading eyes. The boy sports the same puppy-look in them that you have said Javier does himself, and it was only when he looked into Lucas’ pleading face the first time that he realized what you meant. The look is damn near impossible to say no to. 
“Fine, but I’m taking it afterward unless you promise me not to play all night,” he says firmly, “Even Mario has to sleep at some point.”
“I will!” He reassures quickly, “Only five minutes more, I promise.”
“But I want to talk to you about something first,” he holds out his hand for the gaming console, “Dámelo (Give it to me). It’s important you listen.”
“Am I in trouble?” Lucas reluctantly hands his most precious belonging to his father who places it on the nightstand. 
“What? No, mijo (my son),” Javier gets Lucas under the covers, tucks him in, and then sits down on the edge of the bed, “How would you like it if I got to spend more time at home with you all?”
“What do you mean?” Lucas tilts his head in confusion.
“Can you keep a secret from Mom?” He asks with a gentle smile. Lucas nods. He continues, “I’m quitting my job soon.”
“Really?!” Lucas exclaims with pure shock on his face.
“Shh, your sister and your brother are asleep down the hall,” he shushes, holding a finger in front of his mouth.
“Really?” He whispers instead. 
“Absolutely, really,” Javier whispers back and Lucas’ eyes sparkle with excitement. He sits up in bed, pushing the covers aside to crawl into his father’s arms. Maybe he isn’t so grown up after all. Javier hugs him back and kisses his hair, “I’ve been thinking that spending more time with you, your brother and your sister is what I’ve been missing. I don’t like  leaving you here to be the big boy of the house when I’m not here.”
He continues when Lucas tightens his arms around him. He muses, “And even if I’ll still have a job, there’ll be more time for game nights and football in the garden. Would you like that?”
Lucas nods into his shoulder. Javier chuckles softly, "But remember, es nuestro secreto (it’s our secret) until I talk to Mom about it. We want to make sure she's on board with the plan, yeah?”
Lucas pulls back and nods eagerly, looking like he is already daydreaming of the extra time he'll get to spend with his father. However, there’s a tinge of anxiety in his excitement, and his voice is an unsure whisper when he speaks his concern, "Dad, what if Mom doesn't like the idea? What if she gets upset?"
“She understands how important our family time is. Trust me, te prometo (I promise) everything will be okay," he says with a reassuring smile. 
“But what will your new job be?” Lucas continues, “Will it be something cool?”
“I think I might start teaching people how to catch bad guys like I used to do,” he shrugs.
Lucas grimaces, “You’re gonna be a teacher?”
“Alright, that’s enough,” he laughs, “Bedtime.”
“You said one more game!” He protests. 
Javier gets up to grab the Game Boy off the nightstand. He holds it out for his son and yanks it away when he tries to take it, “One.”
“I promise,” he says and takes it when he is allowed. 
“And your father is actually very cool,” Javier moves to turn off the lights. He can already hear the theme tune of Lucas’ game, “Buenas noches (goodnight).”
“Buenas noches, papá, te quiero,” Lucas beams in the few seconds he looks up. 
“Y yo a tí, mijo (I love you too, my son),” he says and flicks the switch. 
“They’re asleep,” Javier says as he enters the kitchen a few minutes later. He finds you leaning against the counter with a glass of alcohol-free red wine in your hand. The bottle stands on the counter behind you, its contents half-emptied as if it's been your only way of treating yourself in the evenings after the kids have gone to bed. You look tired from having been alone with all three of them - one of them still an infant - for three days and with a secret baby in your belly to top it off. 
Chucho had offered to help you out but you had politely declined so as to not ask for too much of your father-in-law, not be too much of an inconvenience when he has so much to do at the ranch with getting ready for the Spring. 
“I’m about to be too,” you say after a sip of your glass. 
“When I’ve finally gotten you to myself?” Javier tuts and steps closer to you, stopping when he is right in front of you. He checks the baby monitor on the kitchen counter next to the wine bottle and then he takes the glass off your hand, setting it aside as well. 
His hands find your sides afterward, cupping your waist for a moment before they slide around your body so he can pull you in for a long and desperate kiss. You rest your arms on his shoulders, cradling his head as he moves his mouth with yours. It is nothing but pure ecstasy to feel him like this again, so much that you forget to breathe and have to pull away too soon. 
You know he is the same when he sucks a breath in at the same time as you. However, instead of kissing you again, he lets you catch your breath and hugs you close to his chest. His body feels warm, an instant smile forming on your face as he squeezes you. 
“Hi,” you say, sounding drunk despite the wine having no alcohol. His arms are a harbor, the very definition of the end of unhappiness. They’re strong and enough to make your head swim, holding you with the promise of never being apart except for physically. 
You feel his breath against your ear, “Hey, mamá.”
“I’m so glad you’re home with me again,” you close your eyes as you inhale through your nose, letting the scent of him flood your system. 
Javier pulls back and stares at you for a moment. He smirks, a mischievous gleam appearing in his eyes. Then he lets go of you to reach up and teasingly pull down your top to look down into it. 
“Ay, Javi,” you scold with a roll of your eyes. 
“What?” He acts oblivious. 
“You’re acting insane, and I’m trying to be genuine.”
“I haven’t seen you in three days, mi amor (my love), you can’t blame me,” he protests your accusation, “Besides, this is me being very genuine.”
“Missed you too,” you sigh. 
“And I’ve missed you, Jesus,” he wraps his arms around your waist again, pulls you closer to his body, and uses every opportunity to kiss you after each sentence, “Missed these tits. Missed your gorgeous pussy. You gotta let me have it tonight, mamácita.” 
“Take me upstairs then,” you lean your head back when he presses his lips to your throat, “We’re not doing it in the kitchen. Against popular belief.”
Javier snorts, “But we always—“
“I said against popular belief, baby,” you stress. 
“Fine, c’mere then,” his arms slide down over your hips, and when they reach your knees, he scoops you up with his strong arms and lifts you over his shoulder. You answer with a yelp that turns into a panicked laugh but he simply smacks your ass and starts walking. In the middle of the chaos, you manage to reach for the baby monitor on the counter. 
“You are incorrigible,” you say with a dramatic sigh.
“Yes, wife, yes, wife good, I like wife,” he replies in his best caveman accent and you snicker all the way up the stairs, legs dangling over his shoulder and ready to scold him each time he gropes your ass. 
When he throws you down on the bed, you are having a full-on laughing fit and the bubbling in your chest feels so good. Even better, when he looms over you by the end of the bed while unbuttoning his shirt, only to crawl on top of you. He kisses your wine-stained lips, scooping you up into his arms and you return his embrace after throwing the baby monitor on the bed. 
“I love your laugh,” he says softly when he needs a breath, bumping your noses together. 
“You just kidnapped me from the kitchen, that’s no laughing matter,” you tease. He doesn’t hesitate to kiss your neck while you talk. 
“Then why are you giggling like a schoolgirl?” He places a hand on your belly that still keeps a secret between the two of you. No one knows yet. 
There is concentration on his face when his hand moves up under your top, smoothing the fabric up until you stretch your arms above your head to help him rid it off of your body. 
“Hmm,” you think out loud, “Maybe because I have this terrible schoolgirl crush on you.”
“Really? I thought marriage was just a matter of convenience,” he chuckles and kisses your neck again. You lay your hands on his shoulders, smoothing them over the broadness of his bare skin that’s been missing underneath your fingertips and pushing him down towards your chest. 
“This is pretty good too, most convenient,” you note with a grin as he follows your silent order, moving his mouth south on you until he plants kisses between your breasts. You reach underneath your back to undo your bra, and he peels it off of you and sighs with satisfaction as soon as he has your upper body naked. 
“Look at you,” he groans, throwing the bra to the side and diving back into you. He kisses the swell of your right breast, “You make me so fucking horny.”
You throw your head back as he lets the flat of his tongue trail wetly from one breast to the other. He sucks a nipple into his mouth and earns his first moan, to which he presses his clothed crotch into your thigh to show you how hard he is already. 
“I’ve been wet since I saw you at the door,” you admit, “Been thinking of your cock inside of me each night. So fucking lonely without you.”
“You should have called me,” he mutters, mouth going further down on your body until he reaches the hem of your jeans. He undoes the button and zipper, yanking them over your hips and pulling them off your legs. 
“I was too busy screwing myself,” you tell him and he immediately finds your eyes. That clearly hit a spot, “You like that, huh?”
“Tell me about it,” he struggles a little with the jeans as they sit around your ankles, but the desperation has him yanking them off with enough enthusiasm to pull you along. 
“If you weren’t trying to drag me onto the floor— oh, shit.”
Javier has dragged your underwear along with the jeans, and he is now sinking two fingers deep inside of your dripping cunt and pressing them upwards. It’s what you get for being snarky, you suppose, staring down at him as he fucks you open on his digits. 
“Your mouth— ah, put your mouth on me,” you try to command. 
“Quiet down, baby. I literally just put the kids to bed. You want them running in here?” He shushes you with an amused grin, adding a third finger to your squelching cunt to make you groan, “While I’m wearing you like a puppet?” 
You rock against his hand with a chuckle that develops into a moan, “Imagine the conversation that’ll start.”
“I’d rather have a conversation about how filthy you’ve been while I was away,” he speeds up his fingers to make you cry out against your hand but he doesn’t make you come, changing his mind halfway there to follow through on your request, “No, actually I’ll have you monologue about it because I’m going to eat your pussy as you do it.”
You tremble as he takes your clit in his mouth, easing his tongue over the hard nub over and over again whilst timing it with the strokes of his fingers. You feel so full of his digits, and it takes you a moment to trust yourself not to cry at the ceiling the second you remove your hand from your mouth. 
“Took a long shower the day before yesterday, after the kids had gone to school and Seb was napping,” you begin with shaking breaths. You need to start the sentence three times before you can make your words make sense, “Used the faucet on the bathtub and came so goddamn hard. You should’ve seen me with my legs up against the wall.”
Below you, Javier hums in approval and it vibrates through your throbbing pussy. You continue.
“I imagined you going down on me with your warm tongue, circling my clit— yes, just like that,” just talking about it makes you gush from how horny it makes you, wetness dripping past Javier’s lips and into his mouth. He groans against you and mouths at your pulsing clit. You find yourself much closer from how well your body remembers the orgasm you had in the shower; the warm water pounding rhythmically against your clit, your toes curling, and— and. 
You grind into his mouth and fuck yourself on his fingers as you come, the hot and heavy feeling of an orgasm crashing over you and intensifying as it peaks. You have to bite your lip to keep from screaming, still not managing to keep the high-pitched ah! from reverberating through the room. Javier’s fingers feel so much bigger inside of you as your cunt strangles them, and when you look down at him, you see that he is crashing his hips against the bed to feel just a bit of relief. 
You have lost all restraint in your noises as you feel the pleasure ebb out, leaving you a whimpering and panting mess on the bed that wants it all. Somehow you are deeply satisfied at the same time as knowing that this is not enough; you need all of him, and you need him inside of your cunt until you can barely move from the spot. The fact that your body still works when he pulls his fingers from you is an indication of not having had enough. 
“Need to fuck you,” he says from below you, crawling on top of you. He has left a damp spot on the sheets from where his cock has dragged against them, and he looks like he is in pain at this point if he doesn’t get to feel you around him, “Now, mi amor (my love).”
“No,” you stop him as he tries spreading your legs with a gentle yet hurried hand.
“No?” His brows furrow, a protest on the tip of his tongue. 
“Let me ride you,” you beg, already pushing on his shoulders and feeling how he is giving in in an instant, “Please, I want you so deep in me.”
“Yes, yeah, okay,” he breathes, moving to lie on his back with a pillow under his head. You shake as you lift yourself to straddle him, holding out your arms in front of yourself to signal that you want him to be close to you. He reads you without you saying anything and sits up in your bed so you can be chest to chest. 
You reach beneath yourself to take hold of the base of his cock, holding him in place so you can sink down on his shaft until he is buried inside of you to the hilt. You are dripping wet. The motion of engulfing him in your heat is smooth and effortless, and the moans the both of you let out are closer to whines because you are so starved. 
“It’s so good, you’re so wet, baby,” he mumbles quietly in your ear, nosing along the spot behind it. You arch into him, nodding without any words coming to your mind. Instead, you let out a soft gasp as he fucks up into you. 
Nothing describes being this close to him after not even being able to kiss him for three days. Other couples would shake their heads if they knew how desperate you get from merely three days apart. You only feel sorry for them. They don’t get how your days are spent with taking every opportunity to lay eyes on each other, breathe and taste each other or even just being able to put a hand on each other’s shoulder, hip, the small of the back. 
“Let me,” you pant as he moves underneath you, sending you into a state where you need to concentrate if you want to get out a proper sentence, “I want to fuck this cock. Please, let me.”
Javier stills his hips underneath you. He seems to be holding his breath as he watches you place your hands on his shoulders and then feel them slide behind his head to tilt his head backward. He looks up at you as you start moving on him, rocking in his lap so he barely pulls out of you. 
“Come on, that’s a good girl,” he says when he finally sucks in a breath, eyes gazing up at you with a pussydrunk look in them. When they glaze over like this, you know his words will be ravenous and never-ending, “Fuck, baby. That’s it. There you go. Let me touch you so deep inside.”
It doesn’t take long for him to be distracted by your moving chest as you sensually drag your hips over his thick cock. He did tell you that he had missed your breasts but that had been in a slightly playful manner; you never thought that you would actually start to feel beautiful under his hungry eyes. It shouldn’t come as a shock to you because he always knows how to make you feel desirable. 
“Attagirl,” he groans, holding your hip tightly with his right hand to help you keep your balance, “God, look at those pretty tits.”
You arch your back as he puts his other hand on your left breast, bending his head down to mouth along the swell until he reaches your nipple. He swirls his tongue once but it is too hard to keep going when you move more frantically on top of him to pleasure yourself, so instead, he wraps his whole mouth around the hardened, spit-slicked peak and sucks until your cunt clamps down in surprise of how good it feels.
“Fuck,” you pant, closing your eyes. The noises of him sucking on your breasts fill your ears and along with how it is making your belly swirl, it makes you impossibly wetter, coating his dick in a milky-white ring. A lewd thought enters your mind. Perhaps, he keeps knocking you up because of this; your cup size has remained the same for a while because you’ve been breastfeeding for months now, and with another baby on its way, you know that the months will keep adding up in the near future.
A drop slips into his mouth and spurs him on to give you a thorough taste. Your brows pull together as a more high-pitched moan leaves your open mouth and he pulls back to shush you gently. Then he sucks greedily again. 
You had once asked him why he loved this, and he had replied that the very fact that you were producing milk so sweet to nurture his child went straight to his dick. 
“Javi,” you whine to tell him just how you feel. He removes his mouth from your sensitive chest to talk, albeit reluctantly. However, when he notices the change in your sounds and your pitch, he doesn’t want to look away from your face again until he has seen you lose it. 
“Oh, you wanna come, huh? Then fuck me,” he says with milk-stained lips. You move desperately in his lap as he spurs you on, feeling the head of his cock dragging back and forth inside of you, laying against your g-spot perfectly if you tilt your hips just a bit. Javier’s eyes burn as they stare up at you but he cannot help himself from occasionally glancing down at your bouncing tits. Your need to come grows, and when you press down slightly harder, you see stars behind your eyelids. A second orgasm tears through you, and one of the hands that has gripped your hip hard enough to bruise comes up to cover your mouth because you start screaming. It’s so intense to have missed him so much. 
“There she is,” he growls lowly, watching your face contort with pleasure until tears slide down your face and underneath his palm that’s tightly secured over your whining mouth, “That’s my good girl. You know how to come on this fucking cock, fuck, you feel so good, mi vida (my life), choking my dick. Keep going— no no, don’t stop, ride through it, baby.”
You force yourself to continue moving and keep crying into his hand, wet from drool and tears by now. The oversensitivity is mind-numbing, toe-curling, and somehow still not enough.
“Almost made me come, mi chica sucía y desesperada (my dirty, eager girl),” he says through a breathless chuckle but then raises his brows as your pitch starts climbing once again. You have successfully bypassed your body and started building up another high, “You’re gonna come again? Díos mio (my God), my beautiful wife is insatiable.”
Any chance of talking back at him is lost because you would wake up the whole neighborhood if he dared remove his hand from your mouth. To put his filthy mouth in its place, you start bouncing in his lap to the point where his naked thighs crash harshly into your ass. The sound of skin slapping against skin is dirty but Javier’s desperate groans are obscene. He can barely talk now without his voice wavering, and with the way he repeats himself, you know he is doing everything in his power to let you come one more time before he bursts, “Use my cock, yes like that. K-keep going— you’re gonna make me come. Oh fuck.” 
When he notices that you are trying to say something, he removes his hand and allows you a single sentence before clamping the hand down over your mouth again. 
“I can’t do it anymore,” you whimper with exhaustion, thighs having started to tremble with the effort you are putting into bouncing in his lap. They hurt at this point, straining despite how much you also use your arms to steer yourself.
“Don’t worry about it, Go until you can’t fucking do it anymore and I’ll take over, yeah?” He nods at you when you make a mhm-noise into his hand, eyes encouraging and his breaths less composed. 
When you come a second time on his dick, you falter immediately. The sensation of the pleasure that has built up so fast again crashes down and takes you with it in its fall. You are silent when it’s teetering on the edge, and then it makes your voice crack when you feel the first tug behind your throbbing clit. 
There is only the feeling of your convulsing cunt making you believe in a higher power - in this case, Javier fucking Peña - and then said higher power wrapping his arm around your sticky back to lift you up and down. He snaps his hips upwards to use your body for his own pleasure, and after a series of frantic movements, he comes with a groan. The feeling of his warm spill inside of you has you whimpering, and you try your best to rock your hips the best your exhausted body can. If it weren’t for all the dopamine in your system, you are sure it would hurt. 
“Yes, yes, yesyesyes. Oh, baby, fuck the come out of me, yes, that’s it,” he chants underneath you as he fills you up, moving to meet you halfway until he also has no more to give.  When he stills, he grabs your face to smash your lips together in a messy, desperate kiss that is more teeth than anything else. It feels impossible to get close enough to him, even if your chests stick together from sweat.
A moment later, you fall down onto his chest with a chuckle, head swimming from what you have just done. Your arms lie on either side of his head, and your cheek is pressed into his hair. You can feel his nose dig into your shoulder, inhaling you and your post-sex scent, and his arms tighten around your waist as he hugs you close. 
“That was fantastic,” you groan with him still inside of you. He gives you one more thrust, pressing his hips upwards, and you half-moan in oversensitivity and half-laugh in surprise, “Stop it, Peña.”
He laughs breathlessly, placing a kiss on your bare skin. Then he slips out of you with a grunt, and you feel his come drip from you already, down onto his cock and thighs. He rubs your sides with his broad hands, “I have missed you as well, you know.”
“I don’t ever want you to go again,” you demand sillily. 
“You say that every time.”
“I mean it every time.”
There’s a pause between the two of you. It lasts several minutes where you just lie on top of his chest. 5, 10, 15 minutes pass. Javier says nothing yet you know him well enough to know that he is considering his words. 
“I was thinking of something,” he finally says. 
You sit up at that, “What?” 
“You know how I said something about work during Christmas? That I wanted to be more home with you and the kids, that it would make me happier?” He begins, looking up at you and not hesitating in his eye contact with you. 
You suddenly pay a lot more attention, “Yeah?”
“I was thinking that since I will have a bunch of kids to carry around a lot more years from now, I can’t be running around in the force anymore. My back is fucking killing me, and I also want to make love to my wife on the regular,” he tells you and you know instantly that it’s serious even if he says it with a chuckle, “I was thinking of teaching at the local college. They have a criminology course, and with my time in school with my head in the books - I mean, my bachelor’s degree - it shouldn’t be a problem to get a job there.”
“Are you serious?” You gape at him. 
“Yes, of course, I am,” he furrows his brow slightly. Only now, he looks unsure but still keeps talking, “It would mean nothing of this sort either; me going away.”
“Babe, that’s amazing,” you fall down into him again, causing an umph-noise from your husband, and then you crash your lips into his. You kiss him as if your life depended on it, sliding your fingers through his dark hair and tugging slightly as if trying to get him even closer to you. 
He looks drunk and disheveled when you pull back again, a goofy and satisfied smile on his face. His fingers scratch slightly along your back, “You’d like that, huh?”
“Yes, please,” you beam with happiness. 
“Then you shall have it, mi vida (my life),” his hands travel down to your ass which he gropes obscenely, and when you make a noise, he smacks your right cheek. You feel his cock, hard again, poke into your thigh.
You look down between you, “This is a surprise. I thought you’d gotten old…”
“Like I said…” He grabs your waist and pulls you down to lie on your back. A yelp escapes your lips. 
He is inside of you mere seconds after, causing you to longingly whine. He thrusts once then twice, and you throw your head back to take it, “…I’ve missed you.”
.
.
.
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wolfiesmoon · 2 months
Text
Eyes on me
floyd x gn!reader
Its rlly hard writing this w one hand because i had a bit of a medical emergency last night (in fact i'm in the hospital as i'm typing this) but we survive
so imagine my surprise when i got my baby boy floyd in all his basketball glory (as a consolation from the sevens i assume)
long story short this calls for a floyd fic
(also i use the word stadium a lot here, by that i mean a more small, local stadium and not one of those big NBA league ones)
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"I told you, I'm not playing." Floyd crossed his arms and pouted like a little toddler. "Floyd. This is an important match. We have no time for one of your tantrums." Jamil tried reasoning with him, but it was all for naught. It seems like Floyd is inconsolable right now.
The coach was very close to losing it at this point. The match was drawing closer and closer and Floyd's mood was getting worse and worse.
The team could already hear the people coming into the stadium.
"What are you even so sad about?" Ace questioned, getting a bit annoyed with Floyd.
"Little Shrimpy promised to come see me but isn't here yet... " Floyd glanced at the people sitting on the bleachers, searching for your face in the crowd. When he didn't see you, his pout increased.
"... That's why you're refusing to play?" Jamil couldn't believe his ears. Neither could anyone else in the club right now. Is this dude really 17 years old? He seems like a bit of an overgrown 5 year old right now.
Well, the coach knew he was taking a risk when placing Floyd on the team seeing as things like this are very likely to happen. All he can do now is hope you actually show up so he won't have one potentially amazing player less.
.
"Oh crap, Floyd's match! I almost forgot!" You quickly got up, startling your classmates. You had to stay with some of them to work on a group project professor Crewel gave you. "Anyone wanna come watch basketball with me?"
A few of your classmates agreed to go while others said they had plans to get to.
And so you went.
"Can't believe you forgot it, idiot." Grim scolded you. "Oh yeah? and who was the one sleeping away in my lap while we had to do all the work?" you shot back and he grumbled something under his breath as a response.
The two classmates going with you huffed in amusement at your reply.
By now, you were already at the entrance to the stadium. You saw Floyd play before at practice and you know how good he can get when he's fired up. But you also know how he can be when the opposite is true.
You just hope he's in a good mood right now. If he isn't, you'll just cheer for him until he is.
You sat down on the bleachers, chatting with your classmates about the project as you waited for the match to start.
.
"Hey, isn't that the Prefect right the-ack!" Ace got pushed away by Floyd who's eyes immediately scanned the bleachers again. When he saw you, his eyes lit up and a wide smile spread across his face.
"Shrimpy is here!~" the sudden change in mood surprised even the coach. Well, he supposes the issue is solved now.
His eyes darkened, however, when he saw you laughing with your classmates. You're here for him, not some rando dudes from your class.
Suddenly, he feels determined to play so well you won't take your eyes off him for even a second. He'll make sure of it.
"Hey. We're going to beat the other team so hard they cry. Got it?" he suggested with a horrifying expression on his face. The entire team felt too afraid to do anything but nod in agreement.
That's the second mood change he had in a matter of 30 seconds. Now the entire team is just generally concerned for him.
As the NRC team walked out, you smiled at Floyd and waved to him, Grim raising his little paw to wave too. He smiled back at you widely, flailing his arms around like an excited child at you. When he looked away, however, his expression darkened once more.
Better keep your eyes on him the whole time or someone from the other team might not make it out unscathed.
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Text
Keep Your Eyes Open
Pairing: Leon Kennedy x Reader
Warnings: Smut, P in V, female anatomy, reader is called she, lots of talk of guns, but no gunplay (I mean, it’s on the table and it’s in her hand, but it’s never explicitly used for the sexual stuff), dirty talk, crush confessions, Leon asks her out then fucks her.
Words: 4K
A/N: This is my first smut in forever. Cheers to Leon S. Kennedy for bringing back that smut inspiration! Inspired by this post! Thanks to @angelltheninth for letting me write it!
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“Listen, you know I consider you a friend… but-” Hunnigan starts, eyes filled with concern as she looks over the piece of paper littered with holes. Let’s just say more of my shots ended up in the wall behind the target than the actual target.
“I know, that’s why I’ve been going every day, Ingrid.” My defense is pointless, and we both know that.
“Your firearm recertification is in 3 days. If your accuracy doesn’t get better by then, you won’t be allowed to carry a gun. Do you understand what that means?” She asks as if I haven’t been losing sleep over the issue.
“I know.” It means I’ll be the only agent in this fucking building who isn’t carrying a gun. “I’ll become ‘the girl who can’t carry a gun’ faster than you can say ‘fuck off’.”
A scowl comes from the agent in front of me. “Language,” she reminds. “Maybe you should ask another agent to help?”
“And let the whole building know I’m about 11 shots away from failing my recertification? Pass. I’ll just go practice some more,” I scoff, before turning on my heel to step toward the door.
“Just think about it! I know a lot of agents who aren’t dicks and who are more than willing to help!” She shouts, but I’m not listening anymore. I step out of Ingrid’s office into the cool hallway, shutting the door behind me with an almost silent click. Taking a steadying breath, my feet begin to carry me toward the place I’ve been seeing in my nightmares lately. The shooting range.
“Hey, rookie!” I hear a voice say, halting me in my tracks before I was able to close much distance between me and the stairs. I turn my head toward the voice. Leon Kennedy.
“What’s up, Agent Kennedy?” It feels formal to call him that, but while we’re in this building, it feels wrong to call him by his first name, given he is technically my superior.
“Agent Kennedy? Feels a little formal,” he says with a teasing tone, and I chuckle at him voicing my thoughts.
“Well, we are at work,” I reply, crossing my arms over my chest. Leon and I have become an unlikely pair of friends. The best agent in practically the entire country and the agent who is about to fail her firearm recertification. ‘Maybe he’d be willing to help me?’ The thought is dismissed as quickly as it appeared. ‘And make him think you’re incompetent? Pass.’
“True. Still feels weird though, Agent.”
“Wow!” I gasp in feigned surprise. “I’m not ‘rookie’ anymore?” A small smile makes its way across his lips as he chuckles.
“You’re definitely still ‘rookie’, just felt like being nice.” His comment is followed by a brief roll of my eyes.
“Okay but seriously? What’s up? I have some stuff I have to do, unfortunately,” I sigh, anxiety filling me again.
“Well, I wanted to see what you were up to.” The smile is still there. Any idiot with eyes can see how attractive Leon is. Bright baby blues, cut jawline, nose that anyone would be lucky to sit on. I have definitely had more than my fair share of daydreams starring the agent in front of me.
“I was headed down to the shooting range. I have my recertification in 3 days.” I pray he’ll opt to find something else to do.
“Oh, that shit’s a cakewalk.” Yeah, for you.
“I really want to practice a bit more. I get nervous before stuff like this.” Admitting this is not an easy feat, my cheeks dusting a light pink in embarrassment.
“Okay,” he says, and for a moment, I think he’ll depart with a ‘good luck’ and a wave. Why the hell would I be so lucky? “I’ll come with. I’ve taken that test a few times so I’ll be able to reassure you that you’ll pass with flying colors.” My eyes widen significantly, and the nerves suddenly take over my tongue.
“N-no!” I stutter, much louder than I intended. His eyebrows furrow over in confusion at the sudden outburst. “I-I just assume you’ve got better things to do.” Smooth.
“Not really. I was hoping to spend some time with you, so it’s no big deal.” Kill me now. He moves toward me, wrapping an arm around my waist to turn me and walk toward the range. Maybe it won’t be so bad.
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This is going worse than I could have ever imagined. The target has maybe 3 holes in it and I’ve unloaded a whole clip of 15 shots.
“Well, it’s better than the last clip,” he chuckles, eyes still locked on my practically unscathed piece of paper. The shots didn’t even hit anything vital. I drop my head to the countertop in front of me in defeat.
“I may as well just hand over my gun right now,” I mutter into the hard surface below my forehead. Leon’s hand rests on my back comfortingly before he speaks.
“No, come on. I’ll help you,” he says, bringing the target closer to switch it out for a new one. I turn my head toward him with raised eyebrows, mostly in a ‘how can you possibly fix this?’, my temple resting against the cool surface now. “I noticed a couple of things you can fix that’ll help.” A sigh, forehead back on the counter. Leon pats my back again. “Seriously. Come on.” I rise up again, cheeks red from embarrassment as he pushes the target back to the required distance. Not that I think I’d do any better if it was closer.
“Leon, it’s pointless.”
“No, it’s not. Raise the gun.” I roll my eyes and do as he instructed. “Okay, first off, you’re locking your elbows. Loosen up.” He says, tapping a finger in the crook of my elbow. A chill runs down my spine at the contact. ‘Wow, it’s been too long since I got laid.’ I drop my elbows slightly, noting that it definitely feels awkward.
“This feels weird,” I mutter. Leon smirks.
“I’m sure it does if you’ve been firing with your elbows like that. Loosening them helps with controlling movement caused by the recoil.” He explains, and I’m grateful he’s actually telling me reasons, as it’ll make it easier to remember. “Do you fire with your feet like that?” I glance down at my position, my feet across from each other, shoulder width apart.
“Yeah?” I say, forming it as a question.
“Bring your dominant foot forward. It’ll steady you more,” He says, his tone definitely airing more on the professional side.
“Sir, yes, sir.” The words are mumbled with a light giggle at the end, and a small smile raises the corner of Leon’s lips.
“Okay try firing now.”
I squeeze the trigger slowly, the jolt surprises me which causes my eyes to close for a split second, and to steady myself, I accidentally move my feet back into their original position. The shot lands in the wall. Again. The disappointment on my face must be tangible from a mile away.
“Okay, I think I can fix this actually,” he says, and I sigh in defeat.
“Yeah I’m sure you can, super cop.”
Suddenly, as if the world is working against me, his much larger frame is pressed against my backside. Feeling his chest rise against my back and his hips grazing my ass, I breathe in a quick gasp. Completely enveloped in his scent, hard lines of muscle and heat practically radiating from him, it’s a miracle I don’t melt into a puddle right here on the concrete. His hands find my ear protection, removing the makeshift headphones from my ears, much to my confusion.
“The problem is,” he says, his breath tickling my ear, and I swear he can feel the shiver that runs down my spine, pooling in my panties. “You’re scared of it.”
“W-what?” I stutter, completely affected by his presence.
“You’re scared of the gun. The recoil scares you, and so does the sound of the shot,” he explains, voice barely above a whisper. “I think you’ll find the sound isn’t nearly as loud as you think.” His arms come up, fingers grazing along my skin which causes goosebumps to rise across my arms. He rests his hands right below my elbows, the warmth practically seeping into my bones. “Let me take the recoil. Just focus on keeping your eyes open.” His words send a wave of heat through my spine and I try and fail to not shift against him. His leg shifts forward, forcing my dominant leg into the position he recommended earlier, which presses his hips tighter against me. I almost topple over from the overwhelming sensation of heat from him mixed with his intoxicating scent filling my senses, and for a moment, my vision blurs and I squeeze my eyes shut to clear the sight. Like flipping a switch, his fingers graze my chin, lightly pressing against the edges of my jaw to get my attention.
“Leon, I can’t-”
“I believe I asked you to keep these open, sweetheart.” The agent’s voice is rough in against my ear, and I can feel the vibrations from his words rumble through his chest against my back. It feels like I peel my eyes back open as they beg to remain closed, and I attempt to get my focus on the target in front of me instead of the man behind me. “Now, squeeze the trigger.”
As I do, his hips move forward against me, and I release a gasp. Focusing on keeping my eyes open. The shot rings out, not nearly as loud as I assumed without the ear protection on. Exactly like Leon said. It makes contact with the paper, inches from the paper’s bullseye. My jaw drops at the sight. I actually hit the target.
“Good girl,” he mutters, arms dropping to rest against my waist tenderly. “Told you. You were focusing on it too much.” I feel my arms relax, pointing the barrel of the gun toward the counter as I attempt to turn around to face him, but his frame is like a brick wall.
“Leon,” I begin before another intake of air comes from my chest as Leon’s lips land on the soft skin of my neck. The reaction is immediate, my hips canting back toward him as I set the gun down.
“Nuh uh, baby. Pick that back up and finish unloading the whole clip,” he breathes into the column of my throat. “Want you to get used to this stance so you’re ready for your exam.” The light kisses quickly dissolve into small nips and bites, a moan tearing from my lips as my head lolls back, resting on his shoulder. He stops immediately.
“Leon wait-”
“I told you to finish firing the clip. It’s only 14 more shots. I think you can handle it.” A breath breaks from my chest as I lean forward, arms coming back up into the position Leon had put me in, although his hands remain on my hips this time. The gun goes off again with a bang once, twice, three times, landing in similar spots as the first shot, although they are definitely getting closer to the edge of acceptable. They are hitting the target though. As I squeeze the fourth shot, the man behind me pushes his hips forward again. “Stop thinking, sweetheart.”
“You know, if you wanted to fuck me, you could have just asked me to dinner.” The words come out much more breathy than intended, and I feel like I’m waving a neon sign that says ‘I want you to fuck me’. He chuckles lowly against me, his breath tickling my ear once again.
“I wasn’t sure how you’d take that,” he admits.
“But pushing your hips into me isn’t more forward than that?” I tease. Fifth shot. Only 9 more. He shrugs.
“I came up behind you to gauge the reaction before I did that though, didn’t I?”
“And what did my reaction tell you, Agent Kennedy?” My words are much softer now as if talking louder would shatter the mood of the room, which is alight with tension.
“That you want me to fuck you silly.” Sixth shot. “Did I read that right, rookie?”
Seventh shot. I nod gently, trying not to seem eager, despite the fact that my panties are practically ruined by this point, heat gathering in my lower belly and twisting.
“Leon, can we just-” His fingers skim over the waistline of my skirt, just barely dipping below it.
“No. Not until I know you’ll pass that recertification.” He’s gone back to nipping at my neck until he finds that patch of skin where my neck meets my shoulder. A moan leaves my lips unbidden, and I can practically feel his smirk against my skin. “Go on, sweetheart.”
Eighth shot. More than halfway done. His hand drops down further into my skirt until it’s grazing across the damp spot on my panties and I feel more than hear the low groan that he releases. “Fuck, baby.” My arms go lax as his fingers draw a single circle over my clit through the delicate lace before he moves to remove his hand altogether. 
“Leon, no,” I protest as he presses his lips against my ear, intentionally using a low rumbling tone.
“Finish. Firing.” The command springs arms back up into position.
Ninth shot. Tenth shot. Eleventh shot.
“Doing so good, baby,” The praise goes straight through me, a wave of arousal leaking through the lace. Hands dropping back down to my clit, Leon pushes my panties to the side easily, swirling a finger through the wetness pooling there before bringing it up to press cruelly against my nerve endings. “Is all this for me, sweetheart?” Twelfth shot. I nod, lips pressed tightly together to muffle the squeaks and sounds attempting to leave my throat from his attention. Thirteenth shot. One more.
As I squeeze the trigger on the final shot, Leon’s fingers press into me harshly, hitting that sweet spongy part inside unintentionally and it causes a jolt in my limbs. The shot hits the wall with a pop. I hear a brief ‘tsk-tsk’ in my ear before he speaks.
“Reload.”
“But I-”
“I said, reload. You’re gonna do all fifteen again.” Dread takes over and I feel tears pool in my eyes in frustration, and Leon coos in my ear at the sight. “Oh, poor baby. You can do this.”
“Leon, please, I can’t. I need-” I gasp, setting down the gun on the counter being careful not to flag either of us. (cause gun safety is a thing).
“What do you need, baby? Tell me.” Cocky asshole.
“You.” The word is nothing but a plea.
“Aw, baby. How about I give you what you need, and then you fire off those fifteen shots? That sound like something you can do for me, pretty girl?” I nod eagerly against his shoulder before his hand is between my shoulder blades, pressing my chest to the chilly countertop.
“What about the door?” I ask, breathless and red in the face.
“I locked it when we came in here,” he mumbles as he grips the hem of my skirt and brings it up until he can see the damp lace covering me. Did he plan this? The question surfaces but before it can leave my mouth, my panties hit the floor around my ankles. “Fuck, I wanna taste you,” he whispers, more to himself than anything, but I groan in protest.
“Please just fuck me, Leon,” I practically beg, impatience leaking from my pores at this point.
“I don’t know babe, I’m kinda hungry,” he says, and I don’t need to turn around to know his signature smirk is plastered on his face.
“I will let you later, I promise. I need you right now. Inside.” His chest presses to my back, bringing his mouth close enough to hear him as he speaks.
“Later? You saying you want more than just this?” The clinking of his belt is audible over my heavy breathing because of course, I’m the only one out of breath. I nod. “I wanna hear it, sweetheart.”
“Yeah. I like you,” I start, arms splayed out flat over the top of the counter, fingers searching for purchase.
“Maybe we should get dinner after this then?” He asks, still smiling. I nod.
“Fucking finally,” I mutter and upon hearing this, Leon laughs. Not a deep chuckle, not a teasing sound, a real laugh. An almost embarrassed laugh. Hands finding my waist and giving them a reassuring squeeze.
“Took my time with it, didn’t I?” He asks, and I can hear the nerves in his tone. He’s embarrassed. Like, really truly embarrassed.
“Yeah, you sure di-” The words are cut off as he presses the head against my entrance, dipping the tip in for the briefest of seconds before pulling out and repeating the process. It feels like hours of this torture, his teasing thrusts and slight grazes over my clit before he finally, finally, slides in to the hilt, bottoming out in one stroke. We both release groans at the sensation of my walls molding to accommodate his length, twitching, and spasming as I tighten unconsciously.
“Holy shit, pretty girl, I wasn’t expecting you to be this tight,” he growls into my spine, hunched over my frame as he collects himself. When he does, he leans back, hands moving from my hips to grasp my shoulders, bringing my front away from the surface til I’m practically upright, his cock still nestled snuggly in my heat.
“What are you-”
“Now, reload the gun.” His tone sends a wave of slick down around his length, and he rumbles a groan against my collarbone.
“What-”
“I told you that you were gonna fire off those fifteen shots.” My hands shake as I grasp the glock in my hands, reloading and then trying and failing to return to my stance, so I opt to just position my arms correctly. “Good girl.”
My finger in place, I take a deep steadying breath squeezing. Leon pulls his hips back and slams back home as the shot rings out, and I stop a scream from ripping free as my hands fly back to the counter.
“Lee, you can’t just do that.” The words come out as more of a moan than actual words, the syllables slurring together like a girl who’s had one too many drinks.
“Yet you still hit the target,” he says proudly. I look up and notice that there are fifteen holes in the paper. Sixteen total shots were taken and only one missed. Shit if I had known this is how to get good at shooting, I would have asked sooner. “Come on. You got fourteen more, sweetheart.”
The other shots follow the same routine as the first.
Shot.
Thrust.
Praise.
By the time I’m on the last three shots, my whole body feels like it’s on fire, every inch covered in sweat from his punishing thrusts, tears dripping from my eyes.
“You are doing so good, baby. Three more.” He sounds as wrecked as I feel, voice gravelly against my pulse. His hands grip beneath my elbows again, pressing them back into the correct form. “You are so close.”
The bullet hits the paper with an audible pop. His cock slams back into me, tip hitting my cervix hard enough that I’m pretty sure it’ll be bruised. Broken moans fall from my dry lips, mouth feeling akin to sandpaper.
“Good job, baby. Two more.”
“Please just come for me Leon, I can’t anymore,” My arms droop, barely able to hold the weight of the gun that I’ve grown used to by this point.
“Come on, you can do this. It’s just two more shots. You are doing so well,” he reassures before sinking his teeth into my skin, leaving a plethora of bruises and marks across the tender flesh. 
“What if I miss?” I ask, anxiety poking through, mind locked on how he stopped last time.
“I won’t stop this time. You’ve more than made up for the shot you missed earlier.” I sigh in relief. Forcing my arms back up, I try to steady myself before Leon’s fingers find my clit and I squeal, completely losing my aim due to the tight circles he’s rubbing. “Take the shot, baby.”
I fire, bullet catching the edge of the bullseye and I feel a swell of pride before Leon presses a deep thrust accompanied by a swirl on my clit, and his name spills from my lips as a plea.
“Please come for me, please.”
“Tell you what, if you get a bullseye, then I’ll cream this little pussy, how’s that sound, baby?” The pace of his fingers doesn’t change, and I can really only nod, mind barely able to remember why we were in here in the first place.
Taking aim. Deep breath. Squeeze.
The bullet lands dead in the middle of the red target. I practically drop the gun from my fingers, relief overtaking my senses.
“Atta girl,” Leon groans, pressing my frame onto the counter as he picks up speed to a fast pace, leaning down to crowd against me. My fingers reach up behind me, bent at the elbows, to cling to his hair that grazes against my temple as my eyes squeeze shut. His name is a broken sound coming from my lips as the coil in my gut tightens with each twirl of his fingers and each pass of his tip against my sweet spot. “Open your eyes when you come for me, rookie.”
Most of his words are just a jumble as the coil snaps and a scream rips from my already sore throat, but I can make out a ‘good girl’ and ‘creaming my cock so good, gorgeous’ here and there through the haze of my orgasm. It takes a few more thrusts before Leon groans and curses, lips pressed to my spine as he spills himself inside my still-spasming hole.
It takes a few moments for us to move again, deep breaths the only audible sound in the silent room. He’s the first to move (him and his damn stamina), sitting up to stand before slowly pulling his length out, watching as his seed trickles out slowly and groaning at the sight. Leon reaches down, pulling my panties back up and adjusting them into place tenderly, mindful of the soreness he had no doubt was blooming. With a small tug and some slight wobbling on my end, Leon helps me into a standing position facing him now, small of my back barely resting against the edge of the counter as his hands hold me steady.
“You alright?” He asks, and I giggle and smile in response, leaning my face forward into his shoulder. He chuckles to himself, pressing a kiss to my hair. “I mean it, you okay?”
“Mhm. I’m good. You owe me dinner though.”
“Of course, need me to carry you?” I nod through a wave of sleepiness.
“Wait,” I say, hands on his chest as he looks at me, blue eyes shining with concern. “Can you kiss me?” I ask, shyness returning full force, and he laughs again. In favor of answering, he leans forward, pressing his lips against mine in a sweet, tender kiss. His lips are dry, as evidence of our exertion. We pull back from the kiss with dumb smiles decorating our faces, and he pulls my skirt down to cover my panties, planting another quick kiss on my mouth.
“So where do you want to go to eat?”
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I step out into the hallway, flat shoes making far less noise than my usual heels. Leon looks at me expectantly.
“So?” I skip up to him, lips finding his as my arms wrap around his broad shoulders. Pulling back, I shoot him a smile before speaking.
“Guess who just passed her firearm recertification with flying colors?” I tease.
“Nice! See? I told you, cakewalk.”
Tags: @house-of-kolchek
2K notes · View notes
aventureen · 21 days
Text
Dr. Ratio x Isekai'd Reader
Summary : You've found yourself in a foreign place, luckily there are a nice bunch of educated folks who were intrigued to take you in. The real problem is that their most qualified Doctor is a true narcissist and you try to pave your way to a mutual understanding.
Or
You're somehow teleported to the HSRverse without any knowledge about it and Veritas Ratio tries to understand who you really are (both of you had an equal level of intelligence) so yeah... lots of dialogue Word Count : 1,7k
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“I have no time to take care of an idiot like you,” it has only been a few days after you've lost yourself on a foreign planet, only for the Intelligentsia Guild to come and take you in. Luckily you can understand their language because their written language is surely alien to you. It'll take a while for you to actually understand the letters and this is how you got yourself stuck inside a room with Dr. Ratio. Or whoever they call him by. He's clearly frustrated at the way you can't even seem to read anything he provides, a tough job for him. Not to mention that… statue head of his. Is everyone on this planet as weird as he is? 
“That's kind of rude isn't it to call someone you barely know an idiot?” you scrutinize the textbook in front of you, accompanied by the awfully colorful looking alphabet book beside it. Fascinating sight, really, but not for Veritas Ratio. 
“You barely can comprehend letters. That's a fact. It's a basic thing to further your knowledge yet here you are. Studies are not for everyone, but seeing how you don't seem like a total buffoon yet you're not even able to write or read is why the Guild assigned me to you in the first place.” you hummed at his comments, not refuting the fact he spills even a bit. You peacefully tried to decipher a paragraph with the textbook and occasionally asks him about some things, which he answers normally, harsh tone, but he gets to the point. 
“If you're that fretful towards me, then why are you here? Surely you can assign someone else. I don't think this Guild is short of people, that is,” you asked him without turning your head off the alphabet book and the small notes they've provided for you. You're scribbling on your paper, with some words of their language and an explanation with your own letters to understand things better. Seeing this, Dr. Ratio gets up from his seat to point out your notes. 
“This. I've known lots of languages but this. I tried to search your letters up to no avail, they're not used anywhere in any planets I've been too.” he admits. 
“Perhaps, may I know what planet you are from?” the doctor asks. You let out a small ‘no’, earning him a frown (not that you can see it). 
“I'd like to tell you, but unfortunately I've forgotten. Just like how I got here, I had no clues. That is why I accepted the Guild's offer for knowledge. And refreshments. It'll keep me alive until at least I know how to get back,” strange. What fascinated him more is the way you're so unbothered by his presence or remarks. An idiot would've just run away from the thought of him, heck, they'll beg the guild to put up someone else, but surprisingly you're not. You've been quite pleasant company to him, as if he’ll admit it. 
“I see. After talking to you for a while, I can conclude that you're not that much of a nuisance compared to a regular idiot. Just… illiterate, I supposed,”
“I didn't go through a formal education if that's your main concern. Even so I doubt even my previous place would teach their students these letters,” with that you've finished the specific paragraph he asked you to decipher. He briefly scanned through your notes. It seems that you've managed to understand the language just well, it's just that your writing looks like a toddler's but other than that you've got pretty much everything right. Just a little more practice here and there you'll be just fine. He did give you an advanced text, which he didn't even think that you'll be able to understand. Even a normal scholar here would need some time to actually digest its content. 
“For someone with a low education, I must say that you've exceeded my expectations. This is an academic paper you see, but it has been thoroughly researched. Well done,” You crossed your arms. He surely does see you like an idiot. 
“Do you think I'm a child or something? Because clearly you're treating me like one,”
“With the way you were stressed with a child book on your first arrival here, it’s bound to happen,” once again you nodded. He’s reasonable at least.
“There must be a way to confirm your intelligence,” Dr. Ratio lifts his hand to rub on his alabaster head. Is that thing really necessary? Then again you have been considered illiterate on this planet so you’re not one to judge. 
“Math,” you suggested. Your word seems to pique his interest as his stone head immediately lifts to face you. 
“I’m not sure if the math they use here will be the same as mine, but it’s notable to think that numbers are exact knowledge, surely it won’t stray that far?” You briefly explain and to your surprise, he agrees. Before you know it the man seems like he’s browsing through some floating tabs in front of him. Can he even see with that stone on?
“You can see through that thing?” You let your curiosity win and he scoffed at your question.
“No. It prevents me from looking at idiots. It applies to them too, they wouldn’t want to see my face.” 
“How can you figure out that I was writing in different letters then?” if it weren’t for your excellent rational thinking, he would’ve thrown a chair at you. He starts to understand why some people are actively despising him.
“Your previous works. I scanned your works yesterday as well, didn’t I tell you? I tried to decipher the letters you wrote inside your notes. You use them for your own understanding, and I’m sure you’ll do it again today. It’s simple.” 
“Wow… you’ll make a great detective,”
“Luckily I prefer to teach. Both fields have quite the same requirement in order to achieve success.” He stopped his tinkering and he presents to you complicated looking math equations. You squeezed your eyes, trying to figure the way out for this specific question. Hearing no sounds from you, he explains,
“This is a formula that I have yet to solve. There are too many different variables to make it a complete equation. It seems that it’s not an impossible question, but I had no luxury to dwell on this formula further.”
“And you expected me to solve this?”
“I don’t. Even if you can’t, I can see your scribble while you’re trying to solve it. It’ll determine the level of understanding you have.” you hummed at his argumentation. 
“If I can solve this, will you take off your stone-head for our next sessions? It irks me for a reason,” He pondered at your request.
“Agreed. If so, then you wouldn’t qualify as an idiot like I initially did.” He didn’t even imagine that you’re going to solve the formula anyway. With that concluded, you used a new sheet of paper to carefully solve the equation. A few times have passed and the silent room is constantly filled with the sound of a pencil scratched frantically on top of a paper. The doctor waits patiently. He himself didn’t have any clue of how you’re doing, but judging from how you’re hyper-focusing at the task at hand, he can’t help but to wonder if you’re actually doing the work or you’re just trolling him. Right when he was about to summon a chess board to kill time, you exclaimed.
“Done.”
“Excuse me?”
“I’m done with the formula. It seems that they teach the same math logic here,” He can’t help but to stand from his chair. 
“Please do not kid with me right now,”
“Do I look like I’m joking right now, Doctor?” He mentally cursed at himself for being off guard. 
“Just take off your stone head, you’ll need to check my work now if you’re curious, right?” and with a defeated sigh, he makes his mask dissipate into thin air. You’re quite surprised at his face. Not bad for a nerd. Before he could reach his hands to your works, he is quite stunned with your appearance as well. A small smile adorning your face, eyes sharp beside the evident tiredness reflected through your orbs. You looked beautiful. 
“What’s the matter, Doctor?” your comment snaps him out of his daze. 
“Nothing. Sorry for wasting time,” The man grabs your work. He quickly reads every branch of the equation you’ve made, every number and symbols you’ve written seems like it is perfectly calculated. Somehow you’ve pointed out every problem that is there to be solved and arranged numbers after numbers in a simple form for it to actually answer the grand question. He hates to admit he has been filling up a humongous blackboard to try solving this one, only for you to solve it in two pieces of paper. 
“So, do you think it’s correct?” 
“...Marvelous,” He took your paper to his chair. Veritas Ratio is clearly trying to comprehend your simple math, so quick, efficient, and right on spot. 
“You know, by scrutinizing all of the details, it gets overwhelming. But if you were to step back and try to draw an outline for the formula, it’s easier that way. Simplify the variables inside the formula first, only then you can work on it branch by branch. Math is not about memorizing, it’s about the way you solve things logically.” You can’t help but to put on a commentary. That was a good exercise too.
“That is… quite an exceptional level of comprehension you have. I apologize for doubting you,” Ratio regains his composure back, saving a copy of your works to his own portable database. 
“Worry not, it wasn’t your fault either. I would’ve left me if I were in your position.”
“With how you could finish such problem in universal language, I think you might came from other planet not too far from here,”
“I don’t think so,” you refute his reasoning. 
“From what I remembered, we had no way to travel through other planets. Yet your… planet seems like it is a normal thing to skip through various planets.”
“Are you implying that your place doesn’t have contacts to the outer world? Have you heard of the IPC?” you shook your head at all of his questions.
“No, and no. My previous place doesn’t deter the concept of skipping through other galaxies. It’s just impossible.” 
“Yet with the amount of knowledge you have, you should’ve been able to do what we do just fine.” the both of you fell silent, indulging yourselves to digest such abstract questions.
“Could it be that…” it seems that you can guess his next words.
“You’re not from this world?”
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Truthfully speaking I was about to take a short break from writing but this idea came up in my head and I cannot possibly let it slip away. Please let me know if you like this concept or not so I can consider continuing this one or nah <3
Also consider tipping me on ko-fi!
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literaryavenger · 4 months
Text
Love Is A Battlefield
Summary: Bucky gets hurt during a mission and you can't help but blame yourself.
Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female Reader
Warnings: Minimal use of Y/N. Language cause why not. Mentions of Bucky's past. Injuries. Overprotective reader. Description of violence. Fluff. My poor attempts at being funny.
Word Count: 4.5K
A/N: This was inspired by this post and a dream I had lol. I couldn't help by start writing and this is what came out. Enjoy.
Masterlist
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-Who the fuck do you think you’re calling a bitch, you ass?- you sneered at the guy to your left right before kicking him in the stomach and then bringing his head down on your knee when he doubled over, effectively knocking him out.
-Language!- you hear in you earpiece and roll your eyes -why don’t you shut the fuck up, Rogers.- you tell him while making your way through the corridor, taking Hydra agents down as you go.
-can’t you do this without cursing so much?!- he sounds more exasperated at you than at the agents he’s supposed to keep distracted outside.
-can’t you stop bitching in my ear? I’m a little busy here!- all he answers with is a groan and you know you won this round. You hear Sam crackling before he says -1-0 to Y/N- which makes you laugh.
-Thanks, Sammy-
-Anytime, baby- you roll your eyes at his nickname, the small distraction allowing an agent to get too close to you. You feel a sharp pain in your forearm and almost drop your gun.
-Shit- you hiss at the pain and zero in on the idiot that cut you. You can hear the concerned voices in your ear, but don’t allow yourself to get distracted again as you take care of the last few agents on your side of the building.
-Y/N, are you okay? What’s happening? Can someone get to her?- you hear Bucky’s voice for the first time since the mission started and you can’t help the warm feeling it brings, the concern in his voice making you answer almost immediately. -Just give me a minute- you say as you battle the last guy standing. Once you’ve successfully knocked him out, you take a second to breathe before addressing the voices still coming to your ear while you make your way through the maze of corridors in this Hydra base.
-I’m okay guys, but apparently all these people have some sort of collective knife kink.- you say while checking out your cut, not too deep you think, and you can hear Steve’s annoyed groan and the rest of the team’s laughter. You think you hear a relieved sigh, but almost instantly forget about it as you finally come to the door you’ve been looking for.
-Clint, status?- you ask him as he’s on the roof, being the eyes on the whole operation.
-Everyone’s thoroughly distracted out here.- he answers.
-Good. James, Sam, are you done with the explosives?- you can hear Sam grunting as you enter the room, locating the computer you need and turning it on.
-Just a second- Sam says, you hear a couple of punches landing and then -done. This place is ready to blow as soon as you have the files.-
-and hurry, we can’t hold them off forever- Steve adds.
-Inserting the USB now, I need at least 5 minutes for the download to finish. Friday, remember to copy Hill at Shield HQ and to save the files in the Avengers private server.- you tell the AI as you make your way through the office, grabbing files that seem important as the digital ones download.
-Really? Why the private server?- Steve asks between punches.
-Because, Captain Dumbass, these files could contain sensitive information about one of our own. We have to be careful with them.- you say while still looking through the cabinets of papers.
-Do you have to be so mean to me?- he almost whines.
-Hey, it’s your best friend that I’m looking out for.- you say almost laughing.
-Yeah, I’m sure it’s me you’re doing this for.- You can basically hear the smirk in Steve’s voice but before you can answer, Natasha cuts in.
-Are you two done bickering?- she says annoyed.
-Oh no, please, let them keep going, this is so entertaining- Tony comments, but you get distracted from the conversation when you find a black box in one of the desk drawers that was previously locked, you open it and can’t help the gasp that escapes you. Bucky’s dog tags.
-Guys… do we have to blow up this base?- you ask, quieter than you’d like, leaving everyone else confused. Between all of the “what”s you hear Steve say your name.
-You know the drill, we download the digital files, save as much of the paper ones as we can and then blow the building up. This one’s no different.- he tells you, but you can’t help but disagree.
-I think it is…- you can hear them asking you to explain, so you do, trying to find the right way to say this -I think… I think this is the first base they took James to.- you say, still talking quietly but loud enough for them to hear. The comms go silent, everyone processing what you just say, only the sound of battling going on, but you’re only worried about one person.
-James?- nothing. -James, are you okay?- you can’t help but worry, his silence snapping you out of the trance you were in, you close the box you were still staring at and put it in your pocket, your hand going to your ear instinctively. -Bucky?!- He still doesn’t answer. You hear a bip behind you and Friday lets you know the download is complete, you take the drive and make your way out, your worry only increasing with every step.
-Does anyone have eyes on Barnes?- you ask the rest of the team.
-Oh no.- Clint says, and you stop immediately, your heart beating out of your chest.
-What? You can’t just say ‘oh no’ and not elaborate, Barton!- your mind is going into overdrive, not knowing what to expect.
-I have eyes on him, but you’re not gonna like it.-
-What do you mean, Clint, just say it!- this time Steve is the one to snap at him.
-He’s getting surrounded, it looks like he’s passed out.- you swear you can actually feel your heart stopping.
-Can anybody get to him?- you say.
-He’s got maybe 2 minutes before he’s surrounded, everybody’s too far or too busy.- yeah, Clint’s really not giving you any good news today.
-Can’t you help him out?!- you almost yell at him.
-Not without hurting him, there are just too many!- he sounds more worried with every word and you know it’s bad. -Technically you’re the closest, Y/N.-
-What do you mean, technically?- You look out the window of the corridor you found yourself in, looking towards the roof and find Clint already looking down at you while he speaks without stopping his aid of the others with his arrows.
-the second window to your left. He’s right under it.- you go to said window and try to open it, but it’s closed shut.
-these windows are bulletproof, Clint can you break it somehow?- 
-I can, but you could get hu-
-Just do it!- you yell, cutting him off. You can see him aim an arrow to the window, it hits its target and you can hear Clint counting down from 3 before it shatters. You take no time to be careful of the glass as you take a little disk from your belt and press the button while pointing it at the ground. A rope shoots out of it and, while attaching the other end to the back of your suit, you make a mental note to thank Tony for always updating your tactical suits with new useful gadgets. You leap out the window, landing with your feet on the wall, basically running down on it as you take out your guns and start shooting down at the now dumbfounded agents. Before they could even figure out where the shooting was coming from, you were on the ground next to Bucky, cutting the rope with a knife, then stabbing the agent closest to you.
You’re punching, kicking, shooting, trying your best not to get too far away from Bucky, basically shielding him with your body. You hear a faint ‘holy shit’ from Clint and the other’s voices come through but you can’t follow the conversation, your whole focus on keeping Bucky safe. You stray a little too far away from him as you do the take down move Natasha taught you on one of the agents, your legs around his neck as you bring him down to the ground, when you turn around you see one guy getting dangerously close to Bucky’s unconscious body and you feel a sudden burst of possessiveness throughout your own body.
-He’s mine- you basically growl, taking a knife from the body of the guy you just took down and throwing it. It lodges perfectly in his throat and he goes down right away, blood pouring out of him. You had no time to be disgusted as you kept taking down agents and, one after the other, they all dropped. The second the last one touched the ground you were kneeling next to Bucky.
-Please don’t be dead, please don’t be dead- you kept repeating, looking for the button on his tactical suit that monitors his health, again, thanks Tony. You find it and press it -Friday, vitals.-
-Heartbeat detected- the AI says and you immediately let out a breath of relief, not even knowing when you started holding your breath. -Head injury detected, possible concussion. Various cuts throughout his body. No other injuries detected.- it could be worse.
You give yourself a second to breathe while looking at Bucky, then talk into your comm, not taking your eyes off of him.
-Ok, guys, Bucky’s ass may be cute but it’s heavy, I’m gonna need a hand here.- you hear some snickers and then Clint’s voice. -Cap and Sam are on their way.-
You’re still looking at Bucky, almost worried that the second you take your eyes off of him his heartbeat is gonna stop, when you hear footsteps behind you and, almost automatically, you grab a knife next to your foot and throw it. You hear it before you see it, the metal of the knife hitting Cap’s shield before he lowers it and, almost shocked and glad for his fast reflexes, says -relax, it’s just us-
-sorry, I’m a little jumpy-
-Gee, wonder why- Sam says sarcastically as you turn back to Bucky.
-Just take James to the jet, Sam-
-Why do I have to carry his ass?- he whines like a child.
-Because you can fly, birdbrain, you’ll get there before we make it to the front gate- you’re almost irritated at this point, but when you turn to the duo and Sam gives you an unimpressed look, you sigh and try to calm down. -Sorry, just… take him to safety. Please.- Your voice is soft now, Bucky’s well-being the only thing on your mind. Sam picks up on your concern and gets serious, moving towards Bucky to pick him up.
-I’ll take him to the jet. See you guys there.- and with that, he takes off. You watch him go for a second before you feel a hand on your shoulder, turning around to see Steve’s equally concerned face.
-Relax, you heard Friday, he’s gonna be fine, even if he does have a concussion the serum will heal him in an instant.- you knew he was right, thanks to the serum his bones heal overnight, a concussion is nothing, but still you can’t help the worry you felt.
-I’ll relax when he’s awake and I can see he’s fine.- he’s about to say something before you hear Tony’s voice in your ear.
-If you two are done making out about it, we really should be getting out of here.- you roll your eyes and smile a little at the pink color Steve’s cheeks were turning while you start making your way to the front courtyard of the base where Natasha and Tony were still holding off the remaining Hydra agents that just seemed to keep coming. The second he sees you both giving them a hand, Tony takes off towards the roof. -Incoming, Robin Hood, get ready for take off.-
This was your cue to get to the jet, Steve, Natasha and you making your way to the front gate while still fighting, the remaining agents scrambling away the second the explosions inside the building started. You get to the jet and, after making sure everyone’s inside, Steve turns to Clint. -Take us home, Barton- he merely nods and makes his way to the pilot's seat, immediately taking off.
You make a beeline to where Bucky’s lying on a gurney, still unconscious. -How is he?- you ask Bruce without taking your eyes away from the super soldier’s face.
-he’s okay, his cuts are already starting to heal themselves, so should be his head injury. He should wake up maybe within the hour, two tops.- you nod and make your way to the chair beside his bed, taking his right hand in both of yours. 
You don’t know why you do that, now that you think about it you’ve probably not even touched Bucky in general more than a handful of times. You’re not the closest of friends, you work well together in the field and get along outside of it, you hang out in group settings such as game and movie nights, team trainings and the team-building outings Tony forces everybody to go on, but that’s about it. The lack of one on one interactions, though, didn’t help you escape your growing crush for the long-haired super soldier. You just can’t help the warm feeling you get everytime he’s even in the same room, let alone when he looks at you. You can hide it when you’re in mission mode, always being professional, but the second it happens in a normal setting like the living room or the kitchen or the gym you turn into a flustered schoolgirl, stumbling over your words and blushing everytime you have his attention. You’ve convinced yourself he doesn’t notice, if he has he hasn’t said anything, but for your own piece of mind you pretend he just doesn’t. Sometimes it seems like he does it on purpose, though. He’d get close enough that you can smell his cologne and basically feel his body heat, sometimes his hands hover on your waist while he passes by you, never actually touching you but just close enough to make you almost pass out at the feeling, and you can swear you can see a smirk on his face, but it always disappears so fast it’s just easier to convince yourself you’re imagining it. He’d have the most innocent face while asking you if something’s wrong, and all you can answer with is a small ‘I’m fine’ before basically running away, never once seeing the smug look on his face at the flustered state only he manages to put you in.
You’re brought out of your head by Steve’s hand on your shoulder, again, as he says -he’s gonna be fine-
-It’s my fault…- you say very quietly, ignoring his attempt at comforting you.
-It’s not y- you interrupt him before he can finish.
-Yes, it is. I distracted him. They were so close to getting him, Steve - You can’t take your eyes off of Bucky, almost willing him to wake up, so you could apologize. -Do you have any idea what would’ve happened if they got to him? What they could’ve done to him…- you trail off, not wanting to voice all the possibilities out loud. Of course you know Steve knows. He worries more than you for Bucky, his best friend, basically his brother, the only family he has left from his past life. But Steve was having none of it.
-You wanna play the blame game? He wasn’t even supposed to be on this mission, but I couldn’t stop him. He knew what it entailed, he knew it was a hydra base full of hydra agents, but he didn’t back down because it was the right thing to do. He wants to do good and help us take down Hydra for good, he knows the risks but it was his choice. You can’t take that on you.- Logically you know he's annoyingly right, again, but looking at Bucky laying motionless you can’t help the guilt that creeps up on you. 
-Friday- you say quietly, ignoring Steve’s confused look -play the footage of Bucky before he passed out coupled with the audio from our comms-
The hologram on the table in the middle of the jet lights up and Bucky’s figure can be seen fighting, then you can hear your own voice telling your theory to the group and Bucky halts for a second, he almost gets punched but avoids it at the last second, hitting the guy with his metal arm. Steve turns to you with a smug look, knowing he was right, but you raise your hand before he can say anything and keep watching. You see Bucky fighting and hear yourself calling his name, you can see his eyes rolling when you call him James. He’s asked you countless times to call him Bucky, but you always refuse, not sure why. All you know it’s that it kind of annoys him but in a different way than when Sam or Peter annoy him, you can tell he’s not actually upset, it’s kind of your own little thing with him seeing as he doesn’t allow anyone else call him by his first name.
You can see Bucky still fighting and ignoring you, but when he hears you call him “Bucky” for the first time he stops, right as an agent is throwing a punch. You see Bucky get hit in the jaw, stumble and fall, his head hitting the wall behind him pretty hard. He doesn’t get up, but you see the last agent standing get taken out by an arrow, Clint you assume. You can hear your alarmed conversation with Clint as more agents slowly creep up on Bucky, probably being cautious, worried he could wake up any second, then there’s the sound of bullets flying and agents getting hit. Suddenly you’re there. You take your eyes off the screen, about to tell Steve that even he can’t deny now that it was your fault, but the whole team's attention was on the footage of you mercilessly taking out man after man, even Clint’s there watching after putting the jet on autopilot, the look on your face frightening to the point where you almost don’t recognize yourself. You don’t want to relive the moment, so you shift your attention back on Bucky, your hands still holding onto his. You can hear Clint’s “holy shit” and then your “he’ mine” and you feel yourself heat up at the possessiveness in your voice. The video gets paused and you can hear Tony asking -what the hell was that?- his voice clearly amused, and you know what he’s asking you. Before you can answer though, you feel Bucky’s hand squeeze yours softly, your head snaps down to it and then to his face while getting up from your chair.
He’s mumbling something that sounds very similar to your name but his eyes are still closed.
-James?- he slowly opens his eyes and they instantly find yours, a smile forming on his face that you can’t but mirror.
-How do you feel, Buck?- Steve asks him from beside you.
-Like I got hit really hard in the head- he groans while he tries to sit up, his hand still holding onto yours while you help him.
-Take it easy- Bruce tells him while stopping next to him on his other side -you probably don’t have a concussion, but I’d put some ice on your head to help with the headache.-
-I’ll get it- you let go of Bucky, and move to the mini freezer to get the ice pack. Bucky takes a moment to look around him, his eyes landing on the screen where you’re frozen mid-fight.
-Friday, unpause the video- he says, curiosity taking over. He watches you fight, protecting him with your life and he swears he’s never been more in awe in his life. He sees you get on your knees next to him and hears your whispers, praying for him to be okay, over and over. He sees the relief in your face when Friday tells you he’s alive and he hears you call his ass “cute” as you ask the others for help, making him smile again.
-Friday, stop the footage.- you say, ice in your hands but maintaining a safe distance from Bucky, embarrassed that he saw how worried you were for him. You stand there in silence for a second while Bucky turns to look at you, the smirk on his face definitely real. You blush, cursing your body for how it reacts to his gaze, and Steve clears his throat.
-Why don’t we give you guys a minute- he ushers everyone to the front of the jet, almost having to wrestle Tony to take him away from what he called “his new favorite show”.
Bucky extends his right hand for you to take and you do as you get closer, your left hand going to carefully place the ice on the back of his head. He hisses a little at the contact and you wince, giving him an apologetic smile, but his eyes never leave yours and his hand squeezes yours, letting you know he’s okay.
-I’m sorry- is all you can say and, whatever you were expecting him to answer, it was definitely not what he said next.
-You should be- you bite your lip to stop it from trembling, your emotions getting the best of you, your guilt only growing, but he keeps going -You distracted me. You’ve never said my name before, and it was the sweetest sound to ever come out of your mouth. Shame on you for keeping it from me for so long, doll.- he brings you closer to him, taking your hand in his left, his right going around your waist while he rests his chin on your stomach while looking up at you, your left hand still holding the ice to the back of his head. You giggle at the puppy look he’s giving you, trying to resist the urge of leaning down and kissing him.
-Smooth, Barnes- he laughs with you, before growing more serious.
-You looked really worried.- you feel your emotions bubbling up again.
-I was…- you say, your voice small -I’m sorry you got hurt because of me- you were basically whispering, afraid that if you raised your voice any louder the tears you’d been trying so hard to hold off would start coming out.
-It’s not your fault, doll- before you could protest, he kept going -and I’m fine. We’re all fine. I just took a little nap.- you roll your eyes at his attempt at a joke but can’t hide the smile starting to form on your face while he gives you a grin of his own.
You were so lost in his eyes that you almost forgot about the reason all of this happened. You let go of his hand and he gave you a confused look, a slight pout on his lips that just made you smile more.
-Bucky- you started, taking the box out of your pocket, but he interrupted you with an exaggerated gasp.
-Are you asking me to marry you, doll? Because, don’t get me wrong, I’m flattered, but maybe we should go on a date first.- you couldn’t help but laugh as you gave him a little shove, careful not to hurt him more.
-I’m not asking you to marry me, you jackass.- you got a little more serious as you looked at the box in your hand, you didn’t even realize you were biting your lip until Bucky reached up and tugged it out. You looked back at him and felt weirdly nervous, not knowing how he would react. -I found this at the base, and I’m pretty sure it belongs to you- you laughed a little out of nerves as he let go of you to take the box and opened it. He let out a real gasp this time, fishing out the tags and holding them in his flesh hand, his face unreadable. He looked back up at you and for a second your brain went to the worst case scenario in which there was a lot of blood and screaming, but that image was quickly forgotten as Bucky gave you the biggest smile you’ve ever seen on his face. He placed his hands behind your thighs and moved you to straddle him, his movements so fast that you dropped the ice pack out of surprise, but you didn’t have time to do much as Bucky started peppering kisses all over your face. Your surprise turned into giggles and he slowly stopped his assault, the smile never living his face, the look on his eyes that of pure adoration.
-Thank you, doll… You don’t know what this means to me.- you don’t know if you’re imagining it, but you think Bucky’s starting to lean up and you think he’s about to kiss you when you hear a whistle followed by a slapping sound and an “ow”. You both turned towards the sound to find the whole team looking at you two, Steve has a smirk on his face, Tony’s next to him, rubbing the back of his head and the rest of them are snickering.
-Seriously?!- your irritation does nothing to hide your blush, Bucky’s own embarrassment clear as he hides his face in your chest. 
-What? Capsicle said a minute, we gave you a minute!- Tony said, earning another slap on the back of his head from Steve.
-Just go away- you say laughing and they all go back to the front of the jet but you can hear their little laughs while they whisper, making you roll your eyes before looking down at Bucky who’s already looking up at you.
-Can you do me a favor, doll?- you nod. -anything-
-I’d hate to lose these. Hold on to them for me?- he says, holding up his dog tags.
-Are you sure?- you say uncertainly as he puts them around your neck.
-I’m more than sure.- he says while looking at them on your chest and then looking back into your eyes, his smile impossibly big and you’re sure yours looks the same. He wraps his arms around your waist, bringing you closer and you wrap one arm around his neck, your other hand going to play with the tags around your neck. You’re looking down at them when Bucky speaks again.
-So- He starts, his smile becoming a teasing smirk -you think my ass is cute, huh?-
You groan, hiding your face in the crook of his neck while he laughs at your reaction. You can hear the others laughing too and can’t help the laugh that comes out of you, more sure now than ever that everything’s gonna be okay.
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luveline · 2 years
Note
Hii! Could u perhaps write something with marauders friendship group x luna lovegood reader please? :)
I love this like... this could be an entire fic. i want three idiots obsessed with one idiot thank u for ur request! ♡ fem!reader
James isn't very surprised when you appear. Used to your quiet movements by now, he doesn't flinch as you sit down beside him with a soundless whoosh. Sirius, on the other hand and on your other side, flinches hard.
"Fuck, babe, can a guy get some warning?" 
You turn to him with an adoring smile. "Sorry, Siri. I'm gonna sit down." 
Remus snorts. James snickers behind his hand and reaches out to mess with your hair, which is in a mad disarray.
"You haven't been out in the wind, have you?" he asks worriedly, fishing a small leaf from the back of your head. 
"You'll catch your death," Remus reprimands.
"Or hypothermia," James adds. 
Remus rolls his eyes and dog ears a page in his book before setting it aside. "What did you find?" 
You push a hand deep into your pocket and pull out a tattered piece of toilet roll. You unspool it to reveal a shiny purple beetle. 
Sirius stands and walks away. James peeks over your shoulder curiously. 
"Is it alive?" 
"No," you say, sounding maybe a little bit sad. "I was going to try pinning it, now that it's passed. It has very pretty wings when they're spread. It's called a Judas Beetle." 
You close your hand suddenly around the beetle and sneeze, a fit of them. When you're done you tear off a small piece of the beetle toilet paper and wipe your nose. 
James frowns and curls a hand over your shoulder protectively. He hates when you go out in the cold. You have no gauge of temperature, or if you do it doesn't bother you until it's too late. 
"You've made yourself ill," he says. 
"Or I'm allergic to the beetle." 
"Definitely the second one," Sirius says from the door. He keeps his distance, but his concern is obvious. "You couldn't have worn a coat?" 
You sink into James' grip, like a puppy sometimes with how much you like affection. He indulges you by rubbing your shoulder. Now that he's looking at you this close, you look rather under the weather. Glassy eyes, dry lips. 
"James," you begin. 
"What?" 
"You smell like roses." 
He looks at the other two smugly. "Rosewater in my hair. Wanna smell?" 
You lift your head and smell his hair. "That's nice. Will you put it in my hair?" 
"Sure will. Remus, come take over on cuddle duties." 
Remus swaps with James. He has no qualms about being so close to you, wrapping an arm around your neck to squeeze you against him. 
When James returns you've sunk into the settee and acquired a water bottle. Sirius sits near but not touching you, stating he doesn't want any mysterious illnesses or bugs to transfer. Still, he watches you out of the corner of his eye, and James knows it's his water bottle in your lap. 
James sprays rosewater into your hair, listening to you babble about bugs though it's all lost to Remus' sleeve.
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kivino · 5 months
Note
KIVI, YOU SWEET ANGEL YOU.
can you write a price x gn!paramedic!reader where price is on leave, and maybe he gets into a car accident that isn’t too bad so he refuses to go to the hospital, but the cute paramedic keeps insisting on at least checking him out in the ambulance……….. 😋
DOUBLE VISION || JOHN 'BRAVO 0-6' PRICE X PARAMEDIC!GN!READER
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Word counter – ~1.9k
Tags/Warnings – mentions of car crash, intoxication, medical examinations, fluff, first meeting, and lack of medical professionalism, lmao.
A/n – PLSS I HOPE YOU LIKE IT POOKIE, IT TOOK ME A HOT MINUTE TO GET TO THE REQUEST I’M SORRY MWAH. also credits for the name go to @mockerycrow as well, they’re a genious and have the biggest brain out of the two of us.
ao3 link for this fic
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It’s always a slow process for John - getting used to the slow, civilian ways when he finally gets his leaves approved. When he spends so much time on the field, more often than not he starts to forget about “the other side” of life. Lack of noise, mundane mornings, and silent nights come and with them, the all-encompassing feeling of loneliness starts to set in his gut. John gets reminded about the lack of anyone’s presence in his life. No one is waiting for him back home, and no one will probably be any time soon, with how work takes over most of his free time. And then the captain remembers he’s not getting any younger.
Of course, he had plenty of experience and relationships before, but none of them lasted until now when his hair was already graying and wrinkles were starting to riddle his face here and there. John wasn’t insecure about his age, no, because that would be foolish, really, rather it was the fact that he had no one to share with all the years that were ahead of him.
What John also had a hard time getting used to was driving the busy streets of London with its crazy drivers after months of not getting behind the wheel, which brings him to this moment. Well, it really was on him for trying to get somewhere after happy hour in all the pubs in the area ended, he should’ve probably anticipated some drunk idiot would want to drive back home today. John wasn’t in the right headspace at the moment to fill out all the paperwork and figure out who was in the wrong. His thoughts were far away from here. Probably all the impact from the airbag and the hit.
He’s had it worse before, of course, so some bruises and scratches here and there wasn’t something he couldn’t handle. John felt some pulsing pain in his knee, making it harder to stand upright, and a bit of an ache in his neck from the whiplash, but again, it wasn’t as bad as getting thrown into the wall by an explosion or falling out of a damn helicopter.
So now he has to spend the whole evening working out things with the police and that drunk idiot who bumped into him, freezing his ass off in the rain. Just perfect. John feels a surge of annoyance and exhaustion wash over him, he pinches his brow, letting out an impatient sigh. Cops have arrived on the scene already and started examining the two collided vehicles, after putting around some traffic cones so some other lucky fellas don’t decide to join in on the fun. From his spot on the sidewalk, John can also see the paramedics, who had to get involved because as soon as cops started questioning that drunk guy, he decided to scrunch into himself and show the world all the contents of his stomach. As if it needed to get even more complicated than it already was.
“Excuse me, sir? You’re the other…driver involved in the accident?” John suddenly hears a voice, a bit on the quiet side, which brings him out of his thoughts that involve strangling somebody in a variety of different ways. And oh, his nights instantly become tens, if not thousands of times better when he sees the owner of said voice.
Judging by the identifying markings you were a paramedic, and a very cute one at that, with your dull green uniform and a big jacket on, brows tied together in a concerned expression. Oh, and your eyes, they looked absolutely lovely in the low streetlights. Price is taken aback for the moment, forgetting every word in his vocabulary. He feels his heart starting to beat faster, blood flowing through his veins so fast he’s sure if it wasn’t for the evening darkness he’d most likely resemble a tomato. But then John realizes he must say something because just staring at you would just make him seem like some old creep. And he absolutely didn’t want that.
“Yes, that would be me.” He speaks up after clearing his throat. You nod to that, attentive gaze still on him. John then adds on after a short pause, which took him to let out a deep sigh. “You need me for anything?” Anything. Something. Please.
“Just checking up.” John feels his heart melt at that small smile that grazes your lips, making it obvious you’re satisfied with his answer. “You seem to be holding up better than the other driver.” You joke in an attempt to either lighten up the mood, which John appreciates, or to calm yourself a bit. It didn’t escape him how you seemed a little shaky. It was Friday night, so today’s shift might have been rough on you. Always the Friday nights.
“Well, anyone would hold up better than that bloke.” He jokes with a bit of abandon, a low chuckle escaping his lips, as he starts to overthink himself. John suddenly feels like a dumb teenager, which is never a good sign, especially when there is someone he’s interested in right in front of him. Price feels like his laugh is too rough, stance is too relaxed and everything is just a bit too much when your eyes are on him. Oh, he’s so going to embarrass himself.
“True, but let’s not tell him that.” You give a quiet laugh and John’s worries die down a little. Not completely, but enough to let his eyes get glued to your face. “How are you feeling? Is there any abnormal pain, anything unusual or out of the ordinary?” Oh, so you’re the type to get straight to business, huh? Interesting. Price liked that. “If there’s anything wrong we’ll get you right to the hospital.” Price declined when he got asked about the hospital before by another paramedic because there was no way he was going to spend even more time out of his house because of some minor scratches. But if it meant you’ll be there, he’s calling dibs on the seat beside you in the ambulance truck, dear lord.
“My knee’s complaining a bit, love.” John can see your eyes going as big as two shiny coins when you hear that pet name, which, to be fair, slipped out completely unintentionally. However, by the way you instantly light up in another shy smile, he can tell you don’t really mind it, so his nervousness caused by this… “happy accident”, comes down again. “Some bruises, but I’m not about to hold you up because of those.”
“Oh, well, that’s alright, come with me and I can check you out…” You stutter over your words while talking a bit too quickly and once you understand what you said, an annoyed groan comes out of you. Way to embarrass yourself. “I mean, check your knee out in the ambulance, alright?” You again shoot him a smile. Which probably is in vain, since he’s a patient at the moment, and you’re at work, and that’s very much frowned upon, but what can you do? You don’t meet a man like that everywhere. He looks a bit rough around the edges, but that’s part of the charm.
“I’m sure your hands are already full with that hero of the day over there, I’m good.” What. The fuck. Are you doing. John. The only chance he gets to talk to you and he’s blowing it, for fuck’s sake. He didn’t know why he said that. Maybe not to seem desperate in a very self-sabotaging way, but that’s just. Oh, John, you’re too old for playing some damn games with someone you like.
“You know what? I insist.” Your voice is lower and rougher. And when you top it off with another one of your sweet smiles and a gentle touch on his shoulder? John is a gone man. Turning into a much, a putty, if you will. God, for this perfect smile he was ready to smash and repair every single house appliance and pipe in your house.
“Alright then. Anything for you, love, lead the way.” And you did, with your hand resting softly on his back, helping him forward. John wished you would’ve been bolded with your touch, so he could feel more than just a light graze, but still. It felt good.
And then he finds himself in the back of the ambulance truck, this cramped, tiny space making him hold his breath from being so goddamn nervous in your presence. You told him to take a seat while rummaging through some cabinets and various medical bags for something. Seemingly not finding anything that you needed you spoke up to him again.
“Okay, now let me see your knee, sir.” You mumbled while kneeling in front of him, your eyes concentrated on the man. He didn’t mind you calling him sir at all. John was so used to being called that, but right now it just spread that very pleasant warm feeling inside of him.
“Well, I’m not taking my pants off. Not without a dinner first.” Price chuckled, as he tried rolling up one of his pants legs. And, well, his statement wasn’t that far from the truth. The whole deal with examination was a bit awkward to begin with, so he didn’t want to make it even worse.
“I’ll think about it, big guy.” You chuckle, as you finally start looking at his knee, small, feather-light touches sending sparks over Price’s skin. So, you enjoyed teasing him like that, huh? In combination with that nice, sweet smile? Oh, John is sold. He definitely should you invite somewhere while he still has time on his leave. But before he can open his mouth to make a brave offer you speak up again. “Looks like you have a minor sprain in here, your knee’s all swollen. I’ll apply some elastic bandages, that you’re going to have to wear for some time and redo yourself. But overall you seem to be doing good” Price couldn’t help but feel like that last remark wasn’t about his health.
“Yeah. Yeah. That’s all fine with me, love. Do what you have to.” You only nod in response, spending some time rummaging in the cupboards once again and emerging victorious with a roll of elastic bandages in your hands. You return to your previous position in front of John, and adjust his knee with a firm hand, mumbling a quiet “Hold still, please”. Oh, he’d freeze for centuries if you had asked him to. But he does, and as you wrap the bandage around his knee, which just kept pulsing with hot pain, he couldn’t help but admire you. The trained movements, the concentrated gaze, the warm touch…Maybe he really should act on his thoughts. Maybe it’s his chance. Maybe something can work out and this accidental meeting will become…something more.
Price wanted it to become something more.
His imagination ran rampant, picturing you wearing some nice and fancy, in case you do agree on a date. John totally should not be thinking this when you were right there, finally putting some finishing touches on his knee bandaging, so he forced them out of his mind and cleared his throat. Here goes nothing. But before Price can even utter a single sound you’re already being called over by your colleague. Guess he’ll just have to wait until you’re free of your duties, huh?
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oct0bra1ns · 3 months
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Just did my nails and in the hour it took I thought of this so do with it as u please
I don’t know if you’ve ever done anything like this
But like any type of yandere monster recreating your house/ room perfectly and then bringing you there and their super happy bout it and like ‘look what I made! Don’t you just love it? 😊😊”
like a demon? Omgmgmg or some hot vers of boogie man
idk tbh I have a lot of ideas I’m just trying to give u som of my mind
like summoning a demon bc why not? A bitch was bored 🌝 and it’s all scary and shit and you’re just totally chill, “hey man, didn’t mean to summon you- you wanna just like? I don’t know…go back to hell?” And the demon is obv offended
so it follows u around menacingly and yeah
ur his now ❤️
anyways do with this as u please 💕💕 I love ur writing sm btw, I hope the food u eat always taste good and yr pillows are cold on both sides!
Pairing: Yandere Monster x reader Tw: manipulation, mentions of bringing harm to others , yanderes, notes: big brain, the best ideas always come when you're doing your nails tbh and THANK YOU, I HOPE THE YEAR GOES AMAZING FOR YOU. reblogs and comments are appreciated!
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CONSIDER, the monster had already been admiring you for a while now, taking note of the style you wear, the food you eat, and trying to find what kind of house you'd like so all these things could add up as a plus point when you finally summon him.
Yandere monster who wastes no time in trying to get you to come home with him but the moment you ask him to go back sheepishly, he gives you such an offended looking, asking you what he lacks for you to try to send him away.
Eventually, he gets you to let him stay, allowing to choose whether you want to stay here or go back with him, either way, he'd making sure you lack nothing and are well looked after. He takes pride in knowing your tastes and admires the way your face lights up when you see what he's done for you.
If you choose to stay here, he changes his appearance to fit the standards of the humans whenever outside but in the house, he has no problem flaunting the markings on his skin and horns. To fit in, he uses his influence and power to build up a company from the ground, one where signing a contract with him means selling your soul for success.
He isn't concerned with competition, all he cares about his making sure you're well taken care of but do not mistake this for him being laid back, he's always at your side at parties or anyplace you go to keep other pests away from you, any idiot who dares to approach you will become bankrupt and deal with many things they've been trying to hide or they will be caught in an unfortunate accident.
If you choose to go back to his realm, the way your spoiled only amps up, being from one of the most influential families back home, you've basically become royalty. Of course, his people are not so accepting at first but seeing as he ranks way over them, they keep quiet, his family on the other hand will adore you, admiring the chaos you bring along with being their son's partner.
Always at his side in every event, not as an object to be admired but as his partner and equal and anyone who tries to approach him about how you make an excellent pet will be made an example of what not to do.
Loves picking out clothes for you that are from his realm, tailoring them to fit you perfectly and making sure that above anything else, you love the way it looks.
Any freedom you had back in the world is basically gone in his world, the people here are horrible, you never know when they'll decide to change their mind and try to show off.
octo notes:hmm, thinking of naming him deimos :p
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mattphobiia · 24 days
Note
ok so... i was wondering if you could write a matt or chris smut where they are in the podcast studio with the reader (their gf) and thye try to not get caught
(please tag @mattsfavwh3re)
PODCAST.
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disclaimer: heres some more smut AGAIN, im rlly treating you all right now😭😭 also this was suggested by @mattsfavwh3re so thank you!!! hope you enjoy this ml😛😛 also working on more requests so pls be patient🙏
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the triplets and i all sat in our spots before nick began to set up the cameras to record as they all opened up todays video topic. i was sat next to matt with an extra microphone as they introduced me as their guest, matt's girlfriend. i waved over to one of the cameras before smiling as they all laugh, making me feel confused and nervous. did i do something wrong already?
"thats the wrong camera." matt whispered in my ear, making me freeze in embarrassment as i sigh. "don't worry about it, other guests make that mistake." his hand slowly reaches under the studio desk, resting onto my thigh before we all engaged in the topic.
meanwhile, his hand rubbed against me in slow circular motion as each movement of his moved further up until he was at my inner thigh, nearly making me choke mid sentence.
"are you good?" nick asked concerned while i reach over to grab my bottle of water, taking a quick sip before gaining my composure.
"yeah, let's continue-" i cut myself off when matt suddenly slips my underwear to the side while his index and middle finger hovered over my folds before spreading them apart, making me shudder at the sudden contact. one finger was now touching my clit directly as i bit my lip hard, nodding along to nick and chris while matt stayed quiet, trying to hide his smirk.
the tip of his finger now dragged along agonisingly slow as both now pressed against my clit and rubbed softly in slow circles. with no warning, he suddenly inserted his fingers inside me before slowly thrusting them in and out. my hand nearly flew under the desk as i tried to grab his wrist and pull him away, but his grip was stronger than mine. his leg hooked around mine under the desk as my legs were now forced to widen. i felt my whole body sweat as i felt my nerves rise higher and higher. my heart was practically pounding against my chest, nearly letting out a moan as i squeezed my eyes shut, resting my head against the cold surface of the table.
"guys! are you even paying attention? seriously, whatever you two are doing needs to stop." chris groans, rolling his eyes at us both while nick stops talking to look at us both.
"what even are you doing?" nick asks hesitantly, an unreadable expression on his face, but before i try to speak up, no words could come to my mind.
"she beens complaining that she doesn't feel well." matt adds in, feeling relief wash over me before i pull his hand away whilst he was distracted. "i think we should just have a break and continue later."
we both immediately got up from our places as i nearly rushed out of the room, matt following behind me while chris and nick glanced to each other across the room, giving confused looks. when i shut the studio door, i slapped matt on his arm, looking at him with a death stare.
"what was that?!" i yell, grabbing onto his shirt in frustration as i pull him closer to me. i wasn't actually mad, but it was just something you wouldn't usually expect from him.
"awh, am i not allowed to have fun?" he smirks, his hands now resting on my waist, pressing a small kiss to my lips.
"i didn't say that! just don't do that with your brothers there." i sigh, resting my head against his shoulder. "can we go relax now?"
he nods, beginning to interlock his fingers between mine while holding onto my hand gently, now walking away from the podcast studio as we make our way outside.
"i love you." matt smiles.
"i love you more, idiot."
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MASTERLIST
a/n: i feel like this isnt my best fic but guys pls im so thankful for all ur reblogs, likes and the support🥹 thank you all so much i appreciate you SO MUCH, you motivated me so much and have gotten me through work (i hate my job), my account is slowly growing and im so happy people like my work! like i say, suggestions are open for anyone but just remember that i have my own personal life so it could take awhile for me to write yours. i do see all my requests! anyways, have a nice day all of you:)
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stellamancer · 6 months
Text
(un)mentionables — fem!reader x satoru gojo
notes: real talk. i used to have this really cute light blue lingerie set and that was the inspo + aleks talking about gojo's massive dick ripping through lacy panties. that doesn't happen here, though, sorry lmaoo. uh. don't know what else to say. this is part of the infinite loop ficverse.
wc: 1.3k
contains: fem!reader (no pronouns or gendered language), suggestive situations but not anything explicit, pre-relationship (one day i'll write this established relationship fic for these idiots but not today)
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You think you might as well be dead.
Ultimately, you have no one to blame but yourself for this; you should have known better than to let Gojo grab the spare water bottle from your overnight bag. In fact, you should have known better than to let him anywhere near your overnight bag. It’s not that you think him the type to just go rifling through your things without an ounce of respect for your privacy; it’s just that you know that Gojo has a knack for putting you in mortifying situations as if he’s being paid to.
“Well, well, well, what’s this?”
You whip your head around so violently that you feel a pulse of pain throughout your skull, but it is quickly forgotten when you see what this is. Gojo has certainly found the water bottle you’d offered him, but, somehow, looped around the bottle’s neck is a pair of lacy, sky blue panties that you’d haphazardly thrown into your overnight bag.
There’s little that you’d like more than passing away right here on the spot.
Gojo gingerly plucks your underwear from the bottle and shoots you a roguish grin, his eyebrows lifting suggestively. “Didn’t think you were the type to wear lace.”
You scowl and march over to him, hand whipping out to snatch your panties back from him. Surprisingly, he lets you, and you ball them up tightly in your fist. “You’re right, I prefer cotton.”
“Then where did those come from?” Gojo points at the bright blue fabric peeking through your fingers.
“How is that any of your business?” you snap.
“Just curious,” Gojo says nonchalantly. He’s still smiling though, and it annoys you.
“Curiosity killed the cat.” You roll your eyes as you toss the panties back in your bag behind him.
“And satisfaction brought it back,” Gojo finishes the entire idiom. Of course he’d know the last half of it. “Since you’re saying that, does that mean you’re going to tell me?”
Your eye twitches as you weigh your options. Refusing is the most obvious and natural option, but Gojo is nothing if not persistent. He won’t shut up if he really wants to know that badly. You don’t know why he would, but then again, he probably just would pester you for the sake of being annoying. Sometimes, it’s easier to just give him what he wants so you can move on. So that’s what you decide to do, looking away as you admit, “...it had a matching bra that was really cute.”
Gojo is silent. Unnaturally so. You would have expected him to fire off some wise ass quip, so this response, or lack of, is actually a little unnerving. Starting to feel a touch concerned, you look at Gojo, and though you cannot see the focus of his gaze with that blindfold in the way, you can just tell that he’s staring at you.
You’re not sure if you should feel proud over the fact that you’ve rendered the famous motor mouth Satoru Gojo speechless.
It’s over in an instant though, as his mouth moves to finally speak.
“Show me.”
His voice is low, quiet, as if he’d breathed out the words without even realizing it.
A strange feeling runs straight down the length of your spine, leaving you breathless, the staccato rhythm of your heartbeat almost deafening you. That was unexpected; his words, his tone, all of it.
You gawk at Gojo, trying to figure what to make of it, and he is still in a way that he never is. His lips are slightly parted, and you have no doubt that he is still staring at you, but you cannot even begin to imagine the shade of his eyes right now. Is it the bright shining aquamarine of the sky? Or the dark glimmering sapphire of the sea?
You don’t know. You don’t know. You want to though; you want to know. You want to rip that blindfold off to find out. You want to memorize every shade and every hue. You want to—
When you realize where your train of thought is heading you shake your head, senses returning to you with a start. You don’t know how two words managed to hijack your thoughts like that, but you will have none of it. Back on track, you demand, “Why the hell would I show you?”
Gojo’s lips curve upwards into a familiar grin, and you’re secretly relieved that he seems to be back to normal too. “Feelin’ shy? We’re both adults here.”
You know what he’s doing, but you’re not playing that game. There’s a lot of things Satoru Gojo can goad you into, but this is not and will not be one of them. “That’s beside the point.”
“Thought you said it was cute,” Gojo says, not giving up.
“Oh, trust me, it is,” you respond. “But I’m not showing you.”
“Why not?”
“I— Gojo, you can’t seriously be asking me this,” you groan.
“I’ve seen you in a swimsuit before,” Gojo points out matter-of-factly. “Is there really a difference between that and lingerie?”
His question gives you pause. Technically, you see his point. Technically. But he’s not quite right. “You are not someone I would be showing my lingerie off to. We are not like that.”
“Meaning you showed it to that loser ex-boyfriend of yours?” Gojo asks flatly.
You actually bought the set after you broke up, but Gojo doesn’t know that. “And if I did?”
(Annoyance, white hot and all consuming eats a hole in Satoru's stomach. He doesn't get why he's so mad. It makes sense. It makes sense.
You'd dated that lame excuse of an assistant manager for nearly a year, so it would make sense if he'd seen you—
Splayed beneath him. Disheveled. Exposed. Sky blue lace hugging your hips. A soft smile playing at your parted lips, kiss swollen and hungry for more, begging for more.
God, Satoru wishes he—
His entire body feels hot. Satoru's not sure if it's the rage or something else.)
"You and him aren't like that anymore, so I don't see the problem," Gojo says with a shrug.
If you could kill Satoru Gojo you would do so in a heartbeat. "Gojo, don't be ridiculous."
"Can't help it; it's my speciality," he says, cheekily sticking his tongue out. He tilts his head to the side, and though you can’t see directly, you can just imagine the expectant look in his eyes.
"I’m not showing you.”
Gojo pouts. If he thinks that’s going to convince you, he may as well quit his job as a jujutsu sorcerer and start a career as a stand-up comedian. “Do you really think it’s fair to let dumb losers see the supposedly cute lingerie when super cool and strong sorcerers like me get left in the dark?”
“Life’s not fair,” you dead pan at Gojo. Though it’s not like someone like him would really get that. “And he’s not a loser, you are.”
“Oh, so does that mean you’ll let me see?”
“I—” You start before grumbling. This is getting nowhere. At this rate the both of you will be bickering back and forth until the end of the night and you, for one, would like to have dinner (not with Gojo). “You know what, fine. I’ll show you, but if and only if, we run across some freaky-ass curse that melts clothes.”
You think your proposition is impossible. In fact, you're sure of it. So much so, that you think Gojo will call you out on it.
But he doesn't.
Instead, he grins with eager childlike excitement. "Really? You serious?"
You don't get his reaction. He does know that the chances of that happening are basically one in a bazillion, right? But then again, Gojo is a complete weirdo so you don't question it. Shrugging, you answer. "Yeah, sure."
Finding said freaky-ass curse that melts away just clothes sounds damn near impossible, so you don't see the harm in agreeing. There's basically no way you'll run into one, meaning no way you'll be giving Gojo an eyeful of your cute lacy sky blue lingerie.
You find out that Satoru Gojo must be the luckiest bastard on the face of the planet, because you end up eating your words two weeks later.
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gojo why are you so pathetic lmao.
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munson-blurbs · 1 year
Note
Hello! Could I possibly request something with a lovesick Eddie trying to win over the reader? He’s watched and studied rom-coms with Dustin to get his plan in action doing the basics of walking her to class, carrying her books, complimenting her, etc. but it typically ends with him inadvertently embarrassing himself. Super fluffy ending though!
This is adorable and I loved writing it <3
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Warnings: angst-to-fluff, some language, spoilers for 80s movies
WC: 2.4k
Divider credit: @firefly-graphics
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“You coming to Hellfire today?” Eddie asks you, munching on a pretzel. You weren’t an official member, but you like sitting in and watching campaigns, sometimes secretly helping the freshmen defeat their sadistic Dungeon Master.
You shake your head. “Sorry, Eds,” you shrug apologetically, “Robin, Nancy, and I are gonna catch a movie.”
His eyes widen and he grins excitedly. “Oh, shit! Which one? Eliminators?”
The prospect of the three of you watching an over-the-top sci-fi movie–without Eddie or Dustin nagging you–sends you into a fit of laughter. “Uh, no,” you manage between giggles. “We’re seeing Pretty in Pink.”
Eddie wrinkles his nose. “Isn’t that, like, a chick flick?”
“Yes, and we are chicks,” you say slowly, enunciating each word like it’s a novel concept for him. “Why, did you wanna join?”
Eddie would watch paint dry if it meant spending time with you, but he doesn’t say that. Instead, he rolls his eyes. “Not a chance,” he scoffs. “You girls enjoy your Molly Ringworm.”
“It’s Ringwald, dingus,” you retort, borrowing Robin’s favorite insult for the occasion. “And we will. It’s nice to pretend that guys can actually care about a girl beyond getting in her pants.”
He’s about to ask you if you lump him into that category when Dustin, Lucas, and Mike plop their trays onto the table. They’re chatting excitedly about the upcoming campaign, a conversation Eddie usually never shuts up about, but the older boy is uncharacteristically quiet.
“Hey, Y/N,” Nancy taps you on the shoulder with a smile. “Robs and I were just about to finalize our plans for tonight, if you wanna sit with us.”
You nod enthusiastically, eager to leave the table now that the topic has switched to which cheerleaders are the easiest. “See you perverts on Monday!” you call out behind you, walking side by side with Nancy.
“Hey, sheep,” Eddie interrupts their riveting conversation suddenly. “Do I give off ‘douchebag’ vibes? Like, ‘only being nice to chicks for sex’ vibes?”
“If you are, it’s not working very well,” Mike snorts, only to have a pretzel lobbed at his head. 
Dustin, however, is more perceptive to Eddie’s concerns. “Did something happen with Y/N?” he asks, glancing over at you.
“Don’t stare at her!” Eddie hisses, pressing his fingers over his eyes in exasperation. How do these two have girlfriends and I don’t? he wonders silently. “She mentioned something about liking chick flicks because that’s the only time guys treat girls nicely without trying to sleep with them.”
“Okay, and…?” Mike responds, earning him another pretzel to the head. This one lands in his mop of hair. 
“And, what if she thinks that’s the only reason I’m nice to her?”
“To be fair,” Lucas pipes up between bites of pizza, “you do wanna sleep with her.” He quickly joins Mike as one of Eddie’s snack throwing targets. “Dude, you’re not gonna have any pretzels left if you keep chucking them at us!”
“Can someone just answer my question?” Eddie growls, standing up and pacing around the table. “Because if I’m gonna ask her out–”
“Not gonna happen,” Dustin mumbles under his breath. Eddie glares at him. “What? You’ve been saying that you’re gonna ask her out for ages now, but you never do!”
“Well, now I’m not, if she thinks I’m just some creep,” the metalhead grumbles. “I’d have to be one of those corny idiots from those movies for her to take me seriously.”
Dustin slams his hands on the table, startling everyone. “So be one of those corny idiots!” he exclaims. “Do you think I wanna sing The Neverending Story every time I talk to Suzie? No, I do not. But I do it because it makes her feel special and loved.”
“How would I even do that?” Eddie throws his hands up in frustration. “I’ve never watched any of those dumb movies.”
Dustin’s grin spans his entire face. “Oh, don’t you worry, my friend,” he says. “I’ve got a secret weapon.”
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Turns out, Dustin’s secret weapon is Steve Harrington. More specifically, using him to check out as many romantic comedies as the boy can carry, completely ignoring the three movie maximum policy.
“Okay,” Dustin begins, pushing his way into Eddie’s trailer. “We’ve got The Breakfast Club, Sixteen Candles, Footloose, Terms of Endearment, and Y/N’s favorite, Grease.” He plops the video cassettes onto the table with a thwack.
“Jesus Christ.” Eddie buries his head in his hands. “What did I get myself into?”
“You can thank me later when you finally have a girlfriend,” Dustin retorts, ignoring his friend’s mild irritation. “Now, where should we start?”
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By Monday morning, Eddie’s brain is buzzing with ideas to be the perfect rom-com boyfriend. He waits for you at your locker before first period, leaning up against it as you approach.
“How was your movie night with the girls?” He remembers Dustin’s advice to ask you questions about yourself, rather than launching into another story about his DnD campaigns.
“Good…” You eye him suspiciously. “Is there a reason why you’re blocking me from opening my locker?”
“Oh, shit, sorry,” he sputters, jumping back and smacking into another student passing by. “Son of a–”
You grab your math textbook from the top shelf, rolling your eyes at his antics. “Well, nice talking to you.” You’re not sure what’s gotten into him, but it’s weirding you out.
“Wait!” he calls out, and you turn back around slowly.
“What is it?” you ask crossly, “I’m gonna be late for class.”
Eddie rubs the nape of his neck with his palm, unable to make eye contact with you. “Jus’ wanted to say that you’re pretty…” When you don’t reply within a nanosecond, he starts stumbling over his words. “Pretty nice, and stuff. No, just pretty. You’re pretty. N-not that you’re not nice, b’cause you are; you’re, like, really nice. But you’re also pretty. So, yeah. You’re pretty.”
Your brows furrow in confusion. “Are you okay?” What you really want to ask is, is this some kind of prank?
Eddie nods, fidgeting with the frayed edges of his denim jacket. “Y-yeah, I’m okay. Are you, uh, okay?”
“Mhmmm,” you stretch out your response, backing away. “I’m gonna head to math before I get detention.”
What the hell was that? You wonder incredulously. The only time you’ve ever witnessed him being so tongue-tied was when he was paired with Chrissy Cunningham on a science project. But he was hopelessly in love with her; you were just his best friend. You’d have to ask one of the Hellfire freshmen what was going on. Maybe they’d have some insight.
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You don’t get a chance to talk to Dustin, Mike, or Lucas before Eddie’s trying out his next move. He’s at your locker again between third and fourth period, desperate to redeem himself after his flustered performance this morning.
“Lemme walk you to class,” he blurts out. 
“Eddie,” you laugh, “we have the same class now. You’d know this if you bothered to show up.”
“Oh. Right.” Actually, he has been showing up, partially because of his determination to graduate, but mostly because you’re there. “Then, can I carry your books for you?” He reaches for your composition book and pencil case before you have the chance to answer, and you pull away from him.
“Are you gonna throw my stuff in the trash or something?” You warily cock your eyebrow. 
“No!” He seems genuinely confused and slightly offended at your assumption. “Why would I do that?”
“I dunno,” you shrug. “Why else would you do nice things for me?”
Eddie crosses his arms over his chest. “So that’s what you think of me, huh?” His eyes mist over, so angry that he’s about to cry. “Just another dumb guy who’s either trying to fuck you or fuck you over?”
“What are you talk—“ you start, but he cuts you off. 
“Forget it,” he mutters under his breath, walking in the opposite direction. “Told Henderson this was a stupid idea.”
“Where are you going?” you call after him. “Class is the other way.”
“‘M ditching!” Eddie retorts, pulling out a cigarette and lighting in before he even reaches the doors. 
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You’re sitting in your room, highlighting and writing in the margins of the tattered copy of The Grapes of Wrath you’ve been assigned for English class. You can barely concentrate, though; your mind is consumed with thoughts of Eddie’s string of bizarre behavior. 
The compliments, offering to walk you to class, trying to carry your books—what was that all about? 
You vaguely remember him mentioning something about Dustin; the two of them were thick as thieves and basically attached at the hip. Eddie was the older brother Dustin never had. If anyone knows what was going on with him, it’s Dustin Henderson. 
“Hello?” Dustin’s bored voice comes through the receiver, probably expecting the call to be for his mom. 
“Hey, Dustin. It’s Y/N,” you begin nervously. “Do you have a sec to talk about Eddie?”
“Um, yeah,” he replies, caution evident in his tone. “He seemed really upset at lunch today. Did something happen?”
You exhale, a bitter laugh escaping your chest. “That’s what I was calling about. He was being super weird this morning, and then he got mad at me, like, out of nowhere.”
“Weird…how?”
Starting at the beginning, you recall everything that occurred, emphasizing the babbling that was supposed to constitute a compliment and his explosion when you didn’t let him hold your books. “He’s always playing little jokes on me; what was I supposed to think?” you finish. 
“Aw, shit,” Dustin muses. “Okay, I wasn’t supposed to say anything, but—“
“Please,” you beg him, “I just need to know what I did wrong.”
“No, it’s not something you did—well, maybe, kinda—but not on purpose,” he explains. “On Friday, when you told him about seeing Pretty in Pink, did you say something about guys in chick flicks being better than actual guys because they want more than just sex?”
“Yeah…” you say, confused. “What does this have to do with Eddie?”
“I’m getting to that part, jeez!” Dustin quips, and you roll your eyes at his attitude. “Well, when you said that, Eddie got all worried that you felt that way about him.”
“Of course I don’t!” you reply incredulously. “He’s…he’s Eddie! I know he would never use me for sex.”
Dustin presses on. “He didn’t realize that. So we watched those stupid movies all weekend, just so he could learn how you want a guy to show interest in you.”
Oh. Oh. 
“Because Eddie…” you trail off, your mouth going dry. 
“Yeah, the dude’s, like, in love with you.” Dustin spells it out. “He tries to act like nothing bothers him, but he really cares about what you think of him.”
“Shit,” you murmur. “I mean, thanks, Dustin. I’m gonna go fix this.”
“Any time,” he replies, then quickly adds, “don’t tell him I told you, or he’ll give me wedgies for the rest of my life!”
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You knock on the Munson trailer door. Wayne’s already left for his night shift at the plant, and you hear the sounds of Eddie’s guitar, so you know he’s home. 
“Who is it?” he calls from his room, still strumming. 
“It’s me,” you answer, hoping he’ll let you in. “And I come bearing gifts.”
The guitar playing stops, and you breathe a sigh of relief when his heavy footsteps come closer. 
“‘S not my birthday,” he narrows his eyes at the treat in your hand. 
“I know. I wanted to recreate the ending scene in Sixteen Candles where Jake Ryan goes over to Sam’s house, but a whole cake was too expensive.” You smile warmly at him. “I hope a cupcake will suffice.”
Eddie returns your grin, leaning against the doorframe. “Depends. What flavor is it?”
“Chocolate cake, chocolate frosting.” It’s his favorite; the man has a mean sweet tooth. “Eddie, I’m sorry that I accused you of having some sort of ulterior motive for being nice to me. But when I said that stuff on Friday—about guys using girls—I wasn’t talking about you,” you tell him. “I was thinking about the Jason Carvers of the world, not the Eddie Munsons.”
He takes a big bite of cupcake. “Apology accepted,” he says, mouth still full. He swallows before speaking again. “How did you know that’s why I was upset?”
“Psychic powers,” you tease. “And a certain meddling, curly-haired nerd who just wants you to be happy.”
“Dammit, Henderson!” Eddie groans. “Little shit can never keep a secret—“
You interrupt him, pressing your lips to his chocolate-covered ones. The kiss doesn’t last long because the two of you can’t stop smiling. 
“That’s for calling me pretty,” you tell him. “At least, I think that’s what you said; you kinda rambled on there for awhile.”
Now it’s Eddie’s turn to cut you off. “Then let me make it clear,” he says softly, running his thumb over your jawline. “Pretty, pretty, pretty. Prettiest girl I’ve ever seen.” He places a kiss on your forehead, and you feel yourself melt. 
“No more trying to be some corny movie character,” you instruct him, wrapping your arms around his waist. “I like you just as you are, Eddie Munson.”
He laughs. “Got it, boss.” He twitches his nose. “Actually, there’s one more thing I wanted to do.” When you look at him quizzically, he continues. “You know that part in The Breakfast Club, where Bender gives Claire his earring?”
“Yeah?”
“Well,” Eddie says shyly, “I don’t have an earring, but I do have this.”  He pulls his thin black ring off of his finger and holds it up. “Prob’ly be too big on you, but maybe you could wear it on a chain? And you could be my girlfriend, if you want?”
You press on your tiptoes, pecking another kiss on his lips. “Yes, Eds. To both questions.” 
He throws his fist in the air á la Judd Nelson as he kisses you back, making you cackle with laughter. 
“I can’t believe you actually watched that movie,” you tease. 
He shakes his head, as though he can’t believe it himself. “‘S all right,” he says. “You can make it up to me by seeing Eliminators on our first date.”
“Oh, absolutely not.”
~
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