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starlightvld · 3 months

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Up in Smoke

(Also on AO3)

The first time Ghost rips the cigarette from Soap's mouth, drops it on the ground, and stomps on it as he passes by, Soap is too stunned to say anything for a full ten seconds. They've only been working together consistently for a couple of missions, and even as his superior officer, the audacity of the action floors him.

By the time his brain restarts, Ghost is long gone.

The second time Ghost steals Soap's cigarette, he bursts out in a string of Scottish curses and tackles Ghost from behind before the wanker can drop it on the ground. An impromptu sparring match ensues, fists and curses flying.

Afterward, he doesn't feel much like a cigarette anymore — not with the split lip, anyway. Besides, the buzzing under his skin that usually drives him to smoke is just... gone.

Price catches wind of the incident, of course, and calls them into his office a few hours later. By that time Soap has calmed down enough to be... maybe not okay with it, but at least able to see the humor.

"What's this about you muppets scuffling by the smoking area?"

"Just a little sparring to blow off steam," Soap says.

"Ghost?"

"Nothin' to worry about, Captain."

"No? I've got one soldier who looks like he just got back from a bar fight, and the other..." He squints at Ghost. "He get a hit in on you, too?"

"Yeah," Ghost replies in that deadpan tone of his. "Coupla black eyes."

It's a joke.

Ghost is telling a joke. And it's objectively not funny. It's not. But Soap bursts into hysterical laughter all the same.

The corners of Ghost's blacked-out eyes crinkle.

Price rubs his temples before dropping his hand on his desk. Soap presses his lips together to contain his laughter.

"Sparring happens in the gym. I'm sure you know the place. It's where we have things like mats and gloves. I catch you two bare-knuckle fighting again, and you will regret it."

And it's enough to sober Soap up. He avoids Ghost as he ducks away to catch dinner.

The third time... well, no. He supposes that's really the fourth time.

Because the actual third time, Soap had come back from a shit mission where everything went wrong. Intel was faulty, exfil was delayed, and people under his command died. It didn't happen as often in SAS as it had in the regulars — the soldiers here were well-trained and hard to kill — but that made it all the worse.

When Ghost tried to pluck the cigarette from his mouth, Soap growled.

"Back the fuck up, Lt. Or Price is gonna be disappointed in both of us."

Ghost paused, and their eyes met. Slowly, Ghost lowered his hand.

"Wanna talk about it?"

"Fuck no."

"Thank God."

Soap didn't have it in him to even huff a laugh. He took a long drag and blew the smoke away from Ghost as a peace offering.

To his surprise, Ghost didn't leave. He spun around and leaned against the wall with his arms crossed. They stood there together, utterly silent, as Soap let the heat and sting in his lungs soothe the beast inside that wanted to rip the world apart.

When he was done, though, he was surprised to find he didn't want another. Usually after shit missions, he'd stand there and smoke half a pack before his hands would stop shaking.

He finally met Ghost's eyes. The man quirked a barely visible brow.

"S'pose we should take it to the mats this time?"

Ghost pushed off the building and started walking. Soap followed like a lost child looking for a way home.

The fourth time is in Chicago. His hands are shaking not from losing soldiers but from almost losing his own life. The cigarette trembles in his grip as he stands outside the bar, the biting wind turning his fingers and probably his lips blue. He lifts it to his mouth, inhaling deep—

And then it's gone.

The whine that bubbles up from his gut and bursts from his throat is nothing short of humiliating. But God. God. He needs it.

"Not now. Please, Ghost."

"Why?"

Ghost hasn't thrown the cigarette down. Yet. He cocks his head to the side and gives Soap a long look. Soap can only tremble from the cold and a need that goes deeper than a simple hit of nicotine.

"I just... I need it."

The cigarette drops to the ground, but Soap doesn't have time to lament the loss before that same hand is curling around Soap's neck and pulling him into a fucking massive chest. The other arm comes around Soap's shoulders and...

Ghost just stands there, holding him. And Soap can't help melting into the warmth and solidity of the man who saved his life just hours ago. He dares to curl in deeper. To raise his hands and clutch at Ghost's jacket. To let a few, silent tears escape his tight control.

Finally, his muscles relax. Ghost must feel it, because he turns and leads Soap back toward the bar.

"Why do ye even care?" Soap mumbles from his spot tucked into Ghost's side.

"Because those things'll kill ya."

Soap supposes the "I like you alive" is implied at this point.

Soap loses count after Chicago. He gets stretches of days when Ghost is on a solo op or out with one of the other operators when he can smoke in peace. So he does.

At first.

He's been hooked since he was a rebellious teen trying to make his mark on the world. He's tried to quit multiple times, but it never seems to stick. The first bad mission or adrenaline-filled near miss and he's back at whatever smoking spot he can find, puffing away.

He finds himself trying to cut back, though, even when Ghost is away.

Any time Ghost is on base, all bets are off. In addition to darting by and making a grab for it or sneaking up behind him and flicking it out of his hands, Ghost has gotten more creative. Sometimes Soap will pull out a cigarette only to find he's "lost" his lighter. Sometimes the cigarettes themselves go missing — he clutches his chest and mourns all that wasted money whenever a whole pack disappears.

He supposes it's all just going up in smoke anyway, though.

He should be angry. But in truth, it's almost a relief to hand over the reins to Ghost. To let the man help him by annoying the shit out of him until he wants to give up on it entirely.

Which is definitely the point. Ghost has made that perfectly clear.

So, whenever he gets the urge to calm his racing thoughts or overactive mind with a cigarette, he finds Ghost and annoys him instead. They talk, or spar, or simply sit in silence together, doing their own thing. Ghost doesn't often touch him — their moment in Chicago is still the closest Soap's ever gotten to the elusive Ghost — but he also doesn't push Soap away when he slumps into Ghost's side after a hard day or leans over his back when he's sitting at the table in the 141's common area on base.

The urge doesn't go away, of course. And sometimes, when things get really bad, Ghost will just sit or stand with him like he did the third time. Still, he finds himself smoking less and hanging out with Ghost more.

The last time Ghost steals a cigarette from Soap, he simply stands beside Soap and holds out his hand. Soap immediately knows something has gone terribly wrong. Still, he's too invested in the game now to not hand the cigarette over.

He nearly keels over when Ghost pulls up his mask and takes a long, hard drag. Soap watches in fascination as his cheeks hollow, his neck muscles strain, his lips curve around the paper. It's erotic in a way he really shouldn't be thinking about in regards to his emotionally unavailable superior officer, but the knowledge hasn't stopped him yet. Since that day in Chicago — probably before if he's honest — he's only ever wanted to be closer.

Ghost coughs a little and hands the cigarette back.

"Fuck. Just as disgusting as I remember."

"Ye used to smoke, then?"

"Before I joined up, yeah. Hated it, though."

"The smell? Or—"

"Everything. The taste, the smell, the heat..." Ghost trails off, his hand rubbing over his bicep in a strangely specific way. He shakes his head and looks back at Soap. "Not your problem, Johnny. Forget about it."

Soap's hand is darting out, fingers curling into Ghost's jacket, before he's properly thought through the action. Ghost pauses before turning back. They stare in silence for a moment until—

Soap stubs out the half-burned cigarette and drops the butt in the trash. He licks his lips. Glances up at Ghost. The mask is still sitting on his nose, and Soap stares at his lips for longer than he should before pulling the pack out of his pocket and throwing it in the trash, too.

"Cannae have ye thinking I stink, can I?"

"Too late."

But Ghost's throat bobs with a hard swallow. Soap wets his lips, takes a step closer, and uncurls his fingers to slide his hand up Ghost's chest until his fingertips are resting on Ghost's shirt collar.

"I dinnae think it is."

Ghost turns and walks away. Soap closes his eyes and drops his hand, internally cursing his impulsive behavior. The scuffing of boots walking away from him is like nails on a chalk board.

Until they stop, and a gruff voice calls out, "You comin'?"

A slow smile slides across Soap's mouth. "No' yet."

A huff — exasperation? laughter? a bit of both? — before, "Better get movin' then."

And Soap has never been more glad to follow an order.

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daisykihannie · 17 days

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Auntie (H.HJ)

pairing: auntie!Hyunjin x afab gn!reader

warnings: smut, NSFW, fluff (if you squint), established relationship, crossdressing, mommy kink, spit, exhibitionism, public sex, choking, mirror sex, degradation, praise, etc.

a/n: a huge thank you goes to @httpdwaekki for helping me proof read the final draft since my ADHD refused to focus <3

Hyunjin has always been so pretty. He was the definition of a pretty boy, your pretty boy. His slender figure was accented with lean muscles, his angular face. He had a sharp and strong bone structure that was contrasted perfectly with more soft and feminine features. His eyes were catlike and striking, making his expressions almost dangerous. He truly was the most beautiful mixture of feminine and masculine beauty.

It didn't matter if you were backstage for one of his performances or on the sidelines outside the scope of the cameras during the filming of SKZ code episodes, interviews, promotions, or even live streams. You could always be found watching in awe as stylists crafted stunning outfits that painted him as their muse in a creation of elegant gender neutrality, highlighting his most feminine and most masculine assets. Using makeup to sketch the most breathtaking images of pure unfiltered beauty directly onto his features.

You were staring at your boyfriend in awe as he got dolled up for the newest Skz code episode, the return of Skz Family. You'd expected him to yet again be put in that god-awful, insulting black bob wig that always pissed you off as it hid just how beautiful Hyunjin was. Instead, the stylists began to tie his gorgeous golden brown locks into an elegant but messy bun, adding accents of wispy waves that framed his face in a way that added to his femininity in a way you'd never expected.

It wasn't anything new for the members to witness you being transfixed and nearly hypnotized as the stylists worked their magic. What was new was the way your eyes darkened as you watched it happening. You could feel your mouth salivating at the sight of the stylists adorning him in elegant, golden jewelry and soft makeup to make him look so utterly female.

He was still seated in the stylist's chair as they worked on him when your gaze traveled over him hungrily. Desire began settling into your bones, unlocking something so new and raw inside of you at your boyfriend transforming into such a gorgeous woman and it took you completely by surprise. Your gaze had caught his fiery one that was staring back at you through the mirror, a curious smirk settling onto his plump lips that were glossed in a sticky pink sheen.

You had to forcefully pry your eyes off of him as the stylists were adding the finishing touches. You trained your eyes to the floor, the feeling of slick heat sticking to your underwear was now painfully obvious as you shifted in your seat, still feeling his burning gaze on your skin making you shrink into yourself. You had to squeeze your thighs together to try to calm the arousal pooling in your lower abdomen.

You almost jumped out of your skin when you felt the burning touch of Hyunjin's fingertips gently trace lines across the expanse of your shoulders. You were wearing a tank top so you were able to feel every tingle that erupted into goosebumps on your skin that followed his touch from your right shoulder, across the nape of your neck, and ended at the other shoulder when he sauntered behind you and landed at your side, the one furthest from the stylist chair.

You sucked in a sharp breath through your teeth, still refusing to look up when his long slender fingers wrapped delicately around the back of your neck, squeezing slightly at the veins on either side of it causing a blissful head rush to form. You were already crumbling under your pretty boyfriend's touch and he'd barely done anything. It was very rare for you to become this weak so easily and it took both of you by surprise but Hyunjin seemed to be enjoying your loss of composure significantly more than you were.

He kept his advances subtle, targeting every single one of your weaknesses throughout the filming. During every break, the other members would chat with each other, drink water, eat a snack, or check their phones but Hyunjin would always land that piercing gaze on you. The fire of desire that burned through his irises left you feeling hot to the touch, exposed, vulnerable, and oh-so weak.

Sometimes he'd find his way back to your side and you'd feel a large hand landing on the top of your thigh, down by your knee while he continued chatting with the members. Those long slender fingers drawing patterns on the skin of your inner thigh with featherlight touches. The intimacy of the action, as he trained his attention on his members, was causing shivers to run up and down your spine.

The filming seemed to drag on painfully slow while your boyfriend continued to tease you in ways that no one would be able to catch onto. It was like a naughty secret spoken without words between the two of you as your arousal continued coursing through your veins and you had to fight every single tell of your body to keep anyone from catching on.

You were squeezing your thighs together the best you could without having to shift in your chair, and you were biting back soft whimpers that threatened to escape every time Hyunjin displayed his masculinity while appearing so unbelievably feminine. That was accomplished through his man spread, sitting unladylike the way he knew you loved, flexing his arms that were displayed past the loose sleeves of the blouse he wore when he grabbed something, or raising his voice in a deep and domineering tone.

"Cut! Okay, good job boys. That's it for today. So after you're ready to leave, go ahead and go out to the vans, and everyone should go get a nice dinner while we pack up here. Then you can all go back to your dorms since you guys have the rest of the night off." their manager told the group of boys who erupted into their usual post-film banter. Minho was first to go to the stylists, getting his wig and makeup removed, changing out of his Hanbok, and changing into more casual clothes.

You helped the staff pack up in the meantime. They were all telling you that you didn't have to help but you insisted just like with every single shoot in the past. You'd grown pretty friendly with their staff and managers having been Hyunjin's partner for a while now so it was easy to fall into casual conversation while you worked with your back turned to the boys.

"Hyunjin-ssi, let's get that makeup off and get you into your casual clothes." the stylist said while using a hand to call the taller man over. He stood up and was about to walk over until his eyes landed on you, the red blush still very obviously painted across the back of your neck and reaching the tips of your ears. A smirk pulled at the corners of his lips and he began to make his way towards you instead of going straight to the stylist.

You jumped slightly when you felt the featherlight touch of his fingertips graze the slightly exposed skin of your lower back where your tank top had ridden up as you helped the staff. A tingle shot up your spine and once again you had to bite back a whimper. "Noona, I think I wanna keep this on, is that okay?" he purred.

His hand landed on your right hip as he stood behind you with his right side facing your back, looking at the stylist. His hand on your hip was hidden by being on the opposite side from the staff you were helping and his grip became tight on your hip bone as his fingers dug into the supple flesh, sure to leave bruises.

You couldn't help but stand up a bit straighter and look over your shoulder to see your boyfriend beaming brightly at the stylist, standing tall and looking so nonchalant. There was no sign that he had such a powerful hold on you as his Noona just hummed softly, nodding at him and calling Felix over instead to get his Makeup off and fix his hair.

Throughout the rest of the members getting undressed and dressed in more casual clothes, you could feel Hyunjin's eyes burning holes into your flesh, unaware if his eyes ever left you. Even as the nine of you filed into the vans to go get dinner, his eyes were trained on you and his hand naturally found its home on your upper thigh.

"How's that pretty boy fetish of yours doing hmmm?" he hummed into the shell of your ear. His warm breath fanned over the skin of your neck and a shiver ran through your body as your head snapped in his direction. A pout on your lips and your big boba eyes meeting his feline ones.

"It is not a fetish." you quietly hissed through clenched teeth, ignoring his actual question since you already knew he was only asking because he knew how poorly you were holding up.

"What? Not gonna answer me?" he egged on and you rolled your eyes at him before returning your attention to scrolling through TikTok on your phone as you were doing before hearing his snide remark.

You heard him huff out a chuckle right next to your ear and he looked back out his window in the van, squeezing the flesh of your inner thigh making you jump slightly, having to bite your tongue to hold in the yelp that threatened to escape.

When you guys arrived at the restaurant, there were masks and hats fitted to everyone's face including your own as you were guided to the section of the restaurant the company had rented out to ensure privacy while you all ate. Hyunjin sat on your left side and Minho was seated on your right, your body being comfortably fitted between the two men.

Everything went on as normal during dinner, conversations floated easily through everyone at the table while everyone was eating to their heart's content, some pulling out their phones at times while they ate. Hyunjin's hand was still settled on your upper thigh as always and you could still feel him watching you at times but everything felt normal for the first half of dinner.

That was until you felt Hyunjin's fingers slowly snake their way further up your leg and his fingertips slipping under the fabric of your shorts. The tip of his middle finger was not even a millimeter from your clothed core when you caught his wrist in your hand, stopping him from being able to move. You held his hand in place and shot the taller man a glare to say 'not in front of them' which he only smirked at before turning back to his conversation and continuing his advances.

He was stronger than you so your grip didn't stop him from lightly running the pad of his middle finger over your drenched slit, not that you tried very hard to stop him in the first place. Your arousal that'd been building all day was now painfully obvious to your boyfriend as he touched you over your soaked underwear. You could hear a soft groan escape his throat as he felt your arousal drench his fingers instantly. Luckily Changbin was shouting at the perfect moment, his groan going undetected by anyone but you.

You had to put all of your focus on chewing the food that was in your mouth while breathing normally, making sure you didn’t choke on the food as you ate. Not letting out any of the moans or whimpers bubbling in your throat as his fingertips slipped under the fabric of your underwear and began to slowly drag through your wet folds. Although it was easier for him to remain calm compared to you since he wasn't the one being teased and toyed with under the table, you could still see he was struggling a bit too. The tent in his pants that was twitching painfully as he remained present in his conversation was a dead giveaway.

Hyunjin's fingers were beyond drenched by now, your grip on his wrist was tight as your nails dug into the skin on the inside of his arm, creating small red crescents indented into the paler flesh. He played with your clit for a while, causing your legs to twitch under the table, luckily going unnoticed by Minho who was sitting closest to you aside from your boyfriend, before sliding his middle finger inside your desperate hole and curling his finger to press against your plush walls.

Feeling the wet silk of your walls wrap around his digit made his eyes roll back slightly, a growl coming from his chest as his adam's apple bobbed in his throat with a harsh swallow. He leaned over you, pressing a kiss into the hair at the top of your head before leaning lower to whisper in your ear. His self-control was about to snap and he knew you were about to cum on his fingers from the way you clenched around him. He couldn't have you cumming in your pants, it'd make too much of a mess and he couldn't live with himself if he let all of your delicious fluids go to waste, so he decided that needed to do something about this.

"I think I'm ready to eat my dessert. Meet me in the restroom." was all he whispered against the shell of your ear before removing his finger from inside you, a quiet but desperate whine escaping your lips at your denied orgasm and he slipped out of the booth. Your glassy, half-lidded eyes watched him as he left and shoved his middle finger that was just buried inside of you into his mouth to suck your juices off of it while he maintained eye contact and disappeared around the corner. Luckily the entire exchange went completely unnoticed by the rest of the group.

When Hyunjin got into the bathroom, he locked the door behind himself and leaned against the sink, waiting for you as he palmed himself through his pants. Missing the taste of you, his fingers made their way back into his mouth, a deep guttural groan ripped through him in response to the addictive taste of you exploding across his taste buds as his eyes rolled back in bliss.

After a couple of minutes, he heard you knocking a beat on the door so he'd know it was you. You didn't even have a chance to finish the beat before the door flew open and you were yanked into the bathroom roughly by the wrist and your back was slammed against the door. Hyunjin was ravishing your mouth in an instant as he pushed his thigh between your legs and caged you against the door with his body. You could feel the wet spot forming on the fabric of your shorts and meeting the pale skin of his muscular thighs. The shorts he'd worn for the shoot had rode up his thighs a bit when he pushed his leg flush against your core causing the exposed skin to be in direct contact with the now soaked, thin fabric you wore.

"Are you gonna be good and let me taste you hm? Let Auntie Hyune make you feel good?" His voice was deep and sultry as he spoke his words against your swollen, spit-slicked lips as the two of you separated from the heated kiss. You let out a whine and nodded frantically in response, a small broken "p-please?" fell from your lips in the form of a whimper as your lust-filled eyes landed on his own set of red and swollen lips, the lip gloss making the spit that covered them look even messier.

He wasted no time sinking to the floor on his knees as he used his fingertips to slide into the waistband of your shorts and underwear, pulling them down to your ankles in one swift motion. He quickly got to work, placing wet, open-mouthed kisses on the inside of your right thigh while he lifted the other one to place it over his shoulder. Your back was still pinned against the door for support and the scent of your arousal was flooding his nose, making him feel intoxicated.

His kisses continued for a bit longer on the inside of your thigh and the hand that held your other leg on his shoulder squeezed and kneaded at the flesh. Getting lost in the feeling against his hand while sucking hickeys to the inside of your thighs when a long, needy whine left your lips. His eyes finally met your glistening core before flicking up to your pleading expression, a smirk on his lips when he saw just how fucked out you looked without him doing much to you yet.

"P-Please Jinnie... touch me..." you whimper while maintaining eye contact and watched intently as he brought his face close to your core. Not yet allowing himself to taste you while his nose nudged softly at the hair on your pubic bone, teasing you a bit. "I don't think that's what you should call me right now baby~" he purred as the air from his words fanned across your throbbing clit, a shiver running through you and a whimper that matched it falling from your lips.

"Try again and if you get it right, you'll get a reward. Auntie will make you feel so fucking good~" he purred out and his eyes met yours, his gaze was borderline feral, and his need was written all over his face as he licked his lips. He needed you in his mouth right that second and you were taking a little too long to think of what to call him. His patience thinning, deciding to pinch the flesh of the thigh on his shoulder, eliciting a yelp from you.

"Mommy! please... please touch me mommy..." you begged the man on his knees for you. A low primal growl filled the small space of the bathroom before his self-control snapped and he dove into your heat like a man starved. His skillful tongue was lapping at your juices while he was grunting and groaning against you, your addictive taste filling his mouth once again.

His hands moved to your ass, nails digging into the plumb flesh and pulling your heat impossibly closer to his face as his tongue swirled around your sensitive bundle of nerves. Your thigh that was planted on his shoulder was beginning to tremble and your fingers wrapped around his hands that held your ass firmly. You didn't want to mess up his pretty hair by locking your fists into his hair like you normally would so his hands were a good substitute.

High pitched whimpers fell from your lips as he quickly worked you close to your orgasm, that knot in your abdomen tightening when he started pushing his tongue in and out of your heat, fucking you open on it. Your soft "ah ah ah"s began mixing with Hyunjin's deep groans and the sound of him slurping and lapping at your sloppy cunt.

"M-mommy fuck... I- I'm..." You were close, so painfully close but you knew you didn't have his permission to cum so it took all of your remaining effort to hold it all back as his tongue never slowed down against you. Your head lolling forward as you tried to hold yourself up on shaking legs.

"So good for mommy~ go ahead, Angel. Cum on mommy's tongue." he cooed against you before resuming his desperate feast of you. That's all you needed to let that knot finally snap and you doubled over, cumming all over your boyfriend's pretty face as he slurped, continuing to work his tongue inside and against you through the aftershocks of your orgasm. His tongue settled into a lazy pace as he watched your face that was painted with that beautiful fucked out expression he loved so much. After a short while of this, your breathing started to settle again and he pulled away.

He hadn't realized that you were using him to hold yourself up until your thigh was removed from its place over his shoulder and your knees buckled, causing you to almost fall to the ground but luckily he caught you easily. His cock was still painfully hard in the gray shorts he wore as he scooped you into his arms, moving the both of you so you could sit on the sink as your legs trembled.

He took his place standing between your legs as he began planting soft kisses on your head, temple, and cheek to bring you back to reality. Aftercare was his specialty, it didn't matter if it was a quicky, oral, or him ruining you and fucking you dumb on his cock, he always made sure to give you the best aftercare. "That's it my pretty baby, you did so good for me. I'm so proud of you love." he praised you and continued his soft kisses all over your face as his hands gently massaged your hips.

"Hey baby?" he cooed after a few moments as you came back down fully, his comfort helping you not go into sub-drop and you hummed in response, looking up at him with heavy and almost sleepy eyes. Your juices still covered his nose and chin as he looked at you with so much love and adoration as if you'd hung the stars in the sky.

"The only thing here to clean you up with is paper towels and that's gonna be too rough on your pretty skin. Can mommy use her tongue to clean you up?'' His words were filthy but the deliverance was sweet and loving, almost innocent. "Yes... Mommy can." you cooed back and he smiled softly.

He gently licked the skin on your thighs, around your still pulsing core, and along your folds, being careful not to go crazy from the taste again and push you into overstimulation. Once he was satisfied with his job of cleaning you up, he came back up to stare into your eyes and one of his large hands were resting on your cheek as his thumb rubbed softly across the pink blush that'd settled there.

"My turn to clean you up. Can't have mommy going back out there with her pretty face covered in my juices." you cooed and pulled him into a soft but heated kiss, your tongue tasting yourself on his lips first before making its way around his chin, jaw, nose, and cheeks with small kitten licks to make sure there was no evidence left of what had just happened.

The exchange was loving and innocent but you knew he wasn't done with you. He hadn't even gotten to cum yet and you'd never let your beautiful boyfriend go without his release after he's earned it with the performance he'd just given you. When you were about to ask him if you could suck him off there was a banging at the door.

"Oi! Y'all need to hurry up and quit fucking in there! some of us actually wanna go home." Chan's voice boomed and the both of you stared at each other with wide eyes, having been caught before you both erupted into laughter. Your legs were more stable now as you hopped off the counter and got dressed again. His cock was now mostly soft in his pants, and his face was clean again, both of you perfectly put back together as if nothing had happened aside from the sheen of sweat on your skin.

When you both made it back to the table, hand in hand, you were met with some teasingly annoyed faces and some mischievous smirks as you both were eyed up and down before everyone stood, filing out of the restaurant with hats and masks back in place before climbing back into their respective vans to head back to the dorm. The ride back was silent with everyone full from the filling meal, some napping in the car, and others on their phones.

When the van you and Hyunjin were in, along with Chan, Changbin, and Jisung, arrived at the dorms, you all climbed out and grabbed your bags. The four of you climbed up the steps to the front door with Chan leading the way and unlocking the door for the rest of you. Once you were all inside he locked the door back and you all took off your shoes and put on the slippers at the door.

You were the last one in and as you stood up straight once your slippers were fitted perfectly to your feet you noticed that the other three were staring you and Hyunjin down. Eyeing you both up and down and you suddenly felt shy under their pointed stares.

"So, Jinnie..." Chan hummed out, gaining your attention and your boyfriend's. Chan had his arms crossed against his chest, looking like a dad who was about to scold you. "Is there a reason you suddenly wanted to keep your Auntie outfit?" he asked, his suspicion showing in his tone.

Hyunjin couldn't help but smirk and look at you where you stood stiff, eyes wide and avoiding everyone's eye contact. Seeing you like that made a huff of laughter leave Hyunjin's nose before he looked back up to Chan. "I think Y/N-ie could answer that question a lot better than I could. Isn't that right Angel?" his hand landed on your hip, pulling your body close so your sides were pressed flush together.

"I- it's... N-no um..." you were mumbling and trying to come up with any words to say that wasn't "apparently I have a mommy kink and like to fuck my boyfriend while he crossdresses." but your mind was blank, unable to think of anything except getting wrecked by Hyunjin while he was dressed as Auntie Hyune.

The three producers continued to stare you down and a flush rose along your neck reaching your cheeks and turning your ears a bright shade of red. Jisung's face contorted into an expression of disgust as he was the first to realize, being the horniest person to exist, of course, he'd be the first to figure out the kinky shit.

"OH MY GOD- EW! I DIDN'T NEED TO KNOW ABOUT YOUR CROSSDRESSING KINK HYUNG!" Jisung whined and covered his face and Changbin and Chan seemed to realize then, a smirk growing wider on Hyunjin's face and you shrunk into yourself in embarrassment.

"Soundproof headphones and locking ourselves in our rooms. got it." Chan groaned and turned to hide in his room, the other two following suit and leaving you and Hyunjin standing there alone.

"Well, we've got plenty of time and no need to stay quiet baby~ now, let mommy take care of you," he growled as he pulled you by your hips flush against his hardening cock, lips attacking your own in a feverish kiss, tongues dancing together outside of your mouths for a moment before your lips connected again.

"THEY WEREN'T EVEN ON YET!" you heard Changbin's voice carry through the dorms, a chuckle leaving both you and Hyunjin in response before he lifted you by your thighs, earning a yelp from you in surprise as your legs wrapped around his waist and he carried you to his room, his lips attached to your neck. He kicked the door shut behind him once the two of you were inside before he let your back land on his bed.

He climbed over your body, caging you against the mattress while he nestled himself between your legs. He continued painting your skin in gorgeous blooms of red and purple. His hips were languidly grinding into your core, his needy cock finally getting the friction he'd been craving, his movements eliciting a high-pitched whine from you as your hands slipped their way under the billowy white fabric of his blouse.

Your fingertips explored the pale flesh stretched over his sharp dancer hips before moving a bit higher. Your fingertips were light, barely making contact with the skin making the touch tickle but in the most intimate of ways. The tips of your fingers settled on the last rid of the cage you'd found home in, the one that held you inside his heart and safe from the world.

Your thumbs rubbed circles into the muscles of his abs, pushing in periodically to massage the tender flesh, the feeling causing Hyunjin to let out a moan that was swallowed by your feverish kiss that hadn't broken since he'd gotten you on the bed.

Both of you feeling dizzy from the lack of oxygen was the only reason the two of you separated. He continued the movements of his hips that matched your hips rolling against him as his forehead came to rest on your shoulder. He let out a shuddering sigh mixed with a moan, the noise becoming one of your favorite ones he'd ever made.

"Does Mommy need a little help?" you purred, suddenly feeling a bit more dominant than you had in the restaurant bathroom. Your words caused Hyunjin's hips to stutter momentarily as a broken whimper fell from his swollen lips. You felt him barely nod against your shoulder, your hands continuing their massaging of his sides until the pad of your index finger grazed his sensitive buds.

He let out another whine, allowing you to take over the grinding as he kept his focus on not cumming in his pants yet and keeping his body weight supported by his arms as they trembled.

"Mommy, can I please take off your clothes? I need to see mommy's pretty cock." Your words were a sweet mix of desperate, submissive, dominant, pleading, and demanding. The subtle authority in your voice was met with Hyunjin moaning before pushing himself up off the bed to sit back on his haunches, keeping himself nestled between your thighs, home to him, exactly where he belonged.

"Please, angel? I need to feel you so bad, I need your skin on mine. I need you so fucking bad." His sentence was almost a whine at first before shifting into a deep growl on his last sentence. He was actively fighting an internal battle of wanting to dominate you in every way and have you fucked dumb by his cock and wanting to give you all the control and beg you to use him as your toy until he can't even remember his own name.

Having noticed the struggle, you carefully removed each article of his clothing, pressing soft kisses along the flesh as more and more of his gorgeous body was exposed. You didn't wanna do anything to force him into a decision that he may not be happy with so you were giving him a moment, using all of your self-control not to jump on his cock the second it was exposed to you.

His cock was so so pretty.

A pretty, pale cock with a blush pink tip. It was leaking pre-cum as he watched you taking a moment to just admire his body. The way your eyes shone with love and adoration, lust and hunger, was something he'd never get used to.

Hyunjin carded his fingers through your hair, his eyes never leaving yours when you looked up at him with the softest, most innocent look while drooling over the sight of his cock, finally making a decision.

He didn't voice his choice, primal urges taking over as his hand wrapped around your throat and squeezed the sides enough to cut off blood flow. At the same time as an almost pornographic noise left you, he was leaning forward as he pulled you in closer by your throat. His lips on yours again with a growl and you opened your mouth to get oxygen again.

He took your open mouth as an invitation to lick into your mouth with his lips separated from yours. Both of your tongues fought for dominance in a messy drooly battle that had saliva drenching both of your chins as it leaked down from your lips and tongues. It was so unbelievably hot, you didn't think kissing could get any more filthy and arousing than this until Hyunjin pulled away just enough to spit onto your tongue that was still out for him and a shudder ran through your body.

"Now, why don't you be a good fucking slut for mommy and let me use that sloppy cunt of yours huh?" His words were harsh, in the best of ways. Before you could choke out a response, you were pushed back onto the bed and Hyunjin ripped your clothes off of you, hating how you were far too covered for his liking and the barrier of clothes didn't let him get close enough to you.

Once he had you completely exposed to him, he manhandled you into the position he wanted you. He sat on the edge of the bed with both feet planted firmly to the floor, you were kneeling over his lap with both knees on either side of his thighs. You were holding yourself up over his cock facing the giant full-length mirror that faced the bed, your eyes meeting each other in the reflection as you both silently devoured the lewd sight.

"You're gonna do exactly as I say, got it?" he asked in a deep tone, a whimper escaping your lips in response before nodding and maintaining eye contact in the mirror. You were biting your bottom lip as you awaited his instructions but you saw his large hand come up and be pulled back before it came crashing down onto the side of your ass hard and fast, too fast for your brain to even register it. A high-pitched yelp left your throat and your eyes screwed shut.

"Use your fucking words, Angel. You know better than to break the rules," he said through clenched teeth and your eyes opened again to meet his. Your breathing was a bit quicker and shakier than before as you opened your mouth to give him a proper response.

"Y-yes ma'am, I- I'll be good. I promise." you whimpered softly and a low guttural groan was ripped from his chest at the way you'd called him ma'am, the name making his cock twitch underneath your still hovering and dripping heat. Your hole acts like a faucet with a never-ending flow of your arousal in response to the pretty man behind you.

"You're gonna let me split you open on this pretty cock that you go dumb for and while I wreck you, you're gonna watch everything. You aren't allowed to look away or keep your eyes shut or there will be consequences. Understood?" his hands landed on your hips again as he awaited your consent. His words were a demand but if you genuinely didn't consent to this demand for any reason at all, then that would be the end of it.

"Please Mommy, I- I need you inside of me... n-need to be so f- ah!" when he slammed your hips down, stretching you open on his cock with so much force it felt like your ass would be bruised, you knew you didn't even stand a chance.

A growl erupted from his chest at the feeling of your silky walls wrapping around his length, clenching around his sensitive cock, and sucking him in further than he imagined possible. Considering you were sitting fully down on his lap, his cock buried to the hilt and his pelvis now drenched in your liquids. The feeling caused his eyes to threaten to roll into the back of his head, no matter how many times he felt you around him, he could never get used to just how good you felt.

"Feel that? Can you feel Mommy's cock carving out that sweet hole of yours? hmm? This hole belongs to me, it's fucking molded to the shape of my cock. All. Fucking. Mine." His final words were met with punctuation between them in the form of him lifting you momentarily before slamming you back down onto himself with an unrelenting force.

"All- fuck! all yours- ngghh- mommy. I'm mommy's- Oh my god! Mommy's t-toy..." you're words mixed with loud moans, sure the entire neighborhood could hear just how amazing your boyfriend was making you feel and surely 3racha's headphones probably weren't canceling enough noise as you were practically screaming for the man who was truly using you like a Fleshlight.

Your eyes never left the mirror and you could see Hyunjin was struggling to thrust into you in this position. You wanted to ask him if he wanted to adjust but you were trying so hard to catch your breath that you couldn't speak. Each harsh snap of his hips was met with him slamming you down to meet his thrusts, knocking the wind out of your lungs each time.

As if he could read your mind, he used his grip on your hips to lift you up till only half of his cock was buried inside of you and held you still. He leaned back and planted one hand on the mattress behind him to hold himself up and the other arm wrapped tightly around your waist as he pulled you back a bit to be supported against his chest.

"Knees up and put your feet flat on the mattress baby." you obeyed his damn and got into a squatting position, making sure to keep his cock from slipping out of you as you adjusted. In the new position you could see a small bulge in your lower abdomen under where his arm had locked you to his chest, his cock pressed so deeply inside of you that you could see him inside you.

"Would you look at that~" he cooed as he admired the bulge in the mirror, moving his hand so his fingers rested softly on top of it and he rolled his hips just a bit so he could see and feel his cock moving inside of you and filling you up. A growl left him and his eyes fluttered blissfully at the filth of what was happening.

"Just look at how Mommy's cock carves out your insides with her cock, so fucking perfect for me baby." he cooed, the flip between degrading you and praising you was making you feel a bit dizzy in the best way. He felt you clench around him and your juices flooding his cock in response to it all and he couldn't hold back anymore.

The new position allowed him to thrust up into you at a brutal pace, his tip slamming into that sweet spot inside of you repeatedly and abusing it. Wanton moans and whines were punched out of you with every slam of his cock, mixing with strings of curses and his name. His own animalistic groans and growls along with some more high-pitched whines and whimpers from him filled the room.

"F-fuck.. mommy that's so- ah! so g-good. L-look so good f-filling me up" Your eyes were fighting to roll back into your head as your brain started turning into mush with how incredible you felt and that familiar knot was forming again deep in your lower abdomen.

"That's my perfect slut, such a pretty fucking cum-dump. Want Mommy to fill you up hmm? Wan' mommy to pump you full of her babies? Breed you like the dumb pup you are?" his words came out a bit frantic as his cock was twitching desperately inside of you, his own impending release not far away.

"Please! fuck! wan' mommy's cum! please please please fill me up, I've been good!" you begged him, your words slurring together as you felt yourself close to going completely brain-dead on his cock. His release didn't take long after hearing you screaming and begging for him, his hips snapping into you one last time and pulling you down fully. You felt his white-hot ropes filling you up and your own orgasm ripping through you, squirting all over the reflective surface of the mirror and your eyes finally rolled back into your skull.

You arched hard against Hyunjin's chest as you came and your head rolled back against his shoulder and his grip remained tight around your waist. Using his arm to rock you on his cock to work both of you through the aftershocks of one of the most mind-blowing orgasms you'd both ever felt, both your chests heaving desperately to fill your lungs with oxygen again.

You stayed like that for a few moments, your walls naturally fluttering around the cock still buried deep inside of you and pushing him to overstimulation. Letting out a hiss in response, he lifted you off his cock to lay you down on the plush mattress next to him. A whine leaves your trembling frame at the empty feeling, the noise earning a coo from your boyfriend and he lets his hair down from the bun before allowing himself to collapse back onto the bed again, next to you.

The both of you cuddled for a while, still sticky with sweat and Hyunjin's cum leaking out of you but you were too tired to care. He recovered a lot faster than you, noticing the puddle forming under you that was made of both his and your releases. He placed a lingering kiss on your temple and climbed out of the bed to grab a wet washcloth from the bathroom, returning to get you as clean as he could knowing you were battling sleep and unable to take a shower. It'd just have to wait until the morning.

He left your side again, placing the rag in the hamper before moving to your wardrobe. He slipped on some boxers and a pair of light grey sweats to sleep in and grabbed you a new pair of underwear and one of his oversized tee shirts for you to sleep in. He carefully got your almost asleep form dressed and climbed into the bed, avoiding the wet spot left over from his cum he'd cleaned up, and pulled you close to his body.

You fell asleep almost instantly when you felt his body wrap around yours. It didn't take long for him to fall asleep as well, soft smile on both of your faces.

You both woke up the next morning, entering the living area of the dorms to be met with a grumpy-looking 3racha.

"Really? Did you really have to fuck until damn near 4 in the fucking morning?" Chan groaned out.

"Seriously, we can't sleep with those bulky ass headphones which we could still slightly hear your screaming through with the volume turned up all the way." Changbin retorted.

"The last, and I mean the LAST thing I needed to hear so early in the morning is Hyunjin Hyung being called Mommy over and over again." Jisung finished off and he shivered dramatically and all three of them started fake gagging. A deep red blush painted your cheeks as you tried to shrink and hide your face in your hands with a groan. Hyunjin's cockiness never left him and he let out a laugh, making his way to the kitchen for breakfast. You trailed close behind him in shame, head still low as you looked through the gaps in your finger to watch where you were going.

Neither of you would be able to live this one down but it was completely worth it. You knew you'd get to fuck Auntie Hyunjin again and that alone was enough to make up for the embarrassment and teasing you'd be putting up with for the next few weeks.

#skz smut #skz #skz imagines #stray kids #skz x reader #daisyhannie #straykids smut #stray kids fanfic #hyunjin #hwang hyunjin #Hyunjin x reader #skz hyunjin #hyunjin smut #auntie hyunjin #auntie hyunjin smut #auntie hyunjin x reader

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honeydazai · 2 years

Text

Tighnari -> breeding

content: nsfw, breeding kink, praise, mentions of pregnancy and creampies, Tighnari has a knot | reblogs & comments appreciated!

~0,7k words | kinktober masterlist

Tighnari was a gentle lover.

He was attentive and kind, always aware of what exactly you needed when you needed it; the pace with which he fucked you with was usually slow and deep. Sensual.

He liked to press his lips just below your jaw whenever he pushed into you, pressing loving kisses to your skin until he had bottomed out, and he made sure to make you cum at least once before he took you properly.

He had each of your preferences memorised perfectly; he knew whether you preferred him to lick or suck at your clit, whether you enjoyed having your nipples played with or not, and he never failed to make you absolutely lose your mind in pleasure, all your muscles turning to jelly.

Tighnari was a gentle lover, until he suddenly wasn't.

Unaware, dare you say naïve, as you were, you hadn't known about ruts, though they appeared to be quite a big deal if the way Tighnari was currently pounding into you was anything to go by.

His narrow hips slapped against your own, his nails were digging into the soft skin of your waist and you cried out sharply at a particularly hard thrust.

Your back arched off the bed, your eyes fluttered closed, and, God, you were almost sure that the head of Tighnari's dick was hitting against your cervix with how deep he was, with how full you felt.

“So good for me, aren't you?” His voice was raspy, lower than usual, and it sent a shiver up your spine. “God, you feel fucking perfect around me, so hot and tight. You're such a good girl.”

The praise earned him a needy moan from you, the noise high-pitched, and you couldn't help but clench around him. The sudden tightness caused both of you to groan.

“You're so pretty like this.” Tighnari's breath was warm against your neck; suddenly, he reached down to feather his thumb over your clit, and you whined, the noise breathy. “Gorgeous, really. And you'll be even more stunning after I've filled you up.”

Without even meaning to, you tightened around him, wet walls pulsing as heat rose to your cheeks because of words. This really wasn't something you had ever imagined but, suddenly, you found yourself unable to think of anything but him filling you, getting you pregnant.

Tighnari's chuckle had a mocking tone to it. “Oh? Seems you liked that, didn't you? Is that what you want, love?” A grunt as he pushed into you again. “For me to fill you up until you're dripping with my cum? For me to breed you?”

You whined in response, the noise utterly needy. Sweat dripped down your neck, arousal coiled heavily in your abdomen, and everything felt so damn hot — your clit was throbbing, your lips open as more high-pitched sounds fell from them. “Please—”

“So you do?” Tighnari huffed out a laugh, though his grip on your hips tightened. His next thrust had you all but keening; your sight blurred when, suddenly, your orgasm crashed over you without a warning. The constant stimulation of your clit was overwhelming. “That's cute, darling. I'll just do that then.”

Pain and pleasure mashed together into one confusing emotion as Tighnari kept fucking you through your orgasm, his pace unrelenting; you whimpered pathetically as your wet walls pulsed around his cock, all but sucking him in despite the dull ache in your abdomen.

“Please”, you eventually choked out, though forming coherent words seemed like a herculean task right now, “Please, Tighnari, fuck—, want you to knock me up, please.”

You moaned as your words made his dick twitch inside of you, and your thighs trembled when liquid warmth filled you up moments later, his dick growing in width and, oh—, the sensation of your cunt being stretched even wider was overwhelming, indescribable, and tears welled up in your eyes before you knew it.

“Ah. I forgot to tell you about the knot, didn't I?” Tighnari's smirk was cheeky, his ears twitching. You merely whimpered in response. “Just be glad for the brief break you're getting. Once it goes down, I'll take you again and again.”

Your cheeks seemed to grow impossibly more hot as he leaned down, green eyes sparkling with mirth. “After all, we want to make sure it really takes, right? We'll have to go for quite some more rounds if you really want to end up pregnant. But don't you worry, love. I'll breed you properly.”

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1d1195 · 19 days

Text

Toothpaste II

Here's the rest: Toothpaste

Here on 1d1195.tumblr.com we throw ethics and patient-doctor boundaries out the window. Proceed with caution.

~2.1k words

Warnings: Some smutty thoughts and innuendos present. We're getting there... 🤭

Now she was situated in the chair once more; looking prettier than she did last week. Perhaps because she was no longer in pain. Harry felt a bloom of pride swell within him. Grateful he could take the tears and pain away from her. She was too pretty to be sad.

Harry was insistent that she come back in for him to check on her teeth and the cavity he filled. He wanted to make sure that everything was correct and that she wasn’t in pain. He was analyzing her X-rays and consulted his colleagues to see if there was something he was missing when it came to her susceptible teeth. The thought of her in pain—especially after making her cry for several moments during her appointment—made him utterly distraught.

It took every spare ounce of decorum and professionalism in him to not give her his personal phone number. When he read her new patient form that she submitted online, he thought he was just being kind. He didn’t have anything to do that particular Wednesday she needed to be seen, so to him it was no big deal. He thought she was exaggerating—not that he thought patients exaggerated in general, but the idea of her pulling her own tooth out in the hardware store...

There was a reason one of the secretaries had Harry look it over while she laughed at the hyperbolic words on screen. But when Harry saw her, something shifted inside him. He didn’t know she was going to be pretty. So pretty it was hard to believe her teeth were stuffed with so many fillings. He read her dental history for the better part of the hour waiting for her to arrive. It felt like he knew her. The little quips that she expressed in previous appointments: “I’m in pain. Again. I always thought it was a joke that dentists were sadistic. But I think you like seeing me here.”

But the physical beauty was more than he ever could have anticipated. She was dressed for her job, and she was stunning. It made him wonder how anyone managed to work at all. It was hard for him to focus on his job while he was looking into her mouth. He never wanted to kick himself more than making her answer her boss’s phone call. He could see the resignation in her eyes. If Harry hadn’t intervened, she would have gone back to work. Completely in pain and he wouldn’t have gotten to fix her up. Wouldn’t have convinced her to come back in a week to make sure everything was alright.

“Good morning, love,” he smiled kindly. She grinned back.

“Good morning!” Her voice was cheerful.

Harry busied himself with putting on gloves, checking the computer, and making sure that everything was in place for his examination. “Y’seem t’be in better spirits,” he shouldn’t have felt so prideful. It was his job to fix teeth. But something about her made him feel that way. It wasn’t just that he made her feel better. It was the fact that she looked happier and more relaxed.

“I think you should refill all my current fillings. I wasn’t in any pain. Not even from the Novocain or anything,” she sounded proud herself. It was adorable. Harry was thinking the least professional things about that sweet face of hers and how badly he wanted to kiss her. It didn’t help that he would spend the better part of his examination staring at her mouth. It was a bad profession to fall in love with someone. A sweet gentle smile like hers? He was royally screwed—she didn’t even need to talk.

He chuckled at her assessment. “Thank you for the vote of confidence, love. S’kind,” he pulled the mask over his mouth and sat on the little stool and grabbed the little mirror and dental probe to press to start examining. She opened her mouth instinctively without him having to say a word. Of course it wasn’t otherworldly, but he thought she was. So, it meant something to Harry. It was silly and insane, but he couldn’t help it. She was adorable. It made him nauseous to think she’d be in pain and continue working. Moreover, working for that sorry excuse for a man that screamed at her loud enough Harry could hear through the phone pressed to her ear. “Feeling better?” He asked quietly.

“Uh-huh,” she mumbled around the tools in her mouth. “Muh bett-ah”

He smiled; grateful it was covered by the mask on his face. He was sure he was smiling at her the way he wasn’t supposed to. He was glad he had the glasses and light to hide the adoration that was surely in his eyes as he watched her. “Good,” he nodded firmly.

“I got laid off,” she said. “I didn’t even realize how much I hated it,” she shook her head with distaste coloring her features. “I loved my work, but I hated my job. Does that make sense? Probably not,” she shrugged with a giggle that made Harry almost gleeful with the sound. “But I went right to a temp agency, and I’ve already had two job interviews. My boss didn’t write me a letter of recommendation, but the HR woman was happy to do so for me. Apparently, she was really sad I was let go,” she frowned. “I guess I caused the least amount of drama in the entire building, and it was right of me to stick up for myself. That’s what sick time was for,” she bit her lip. “So, thank you.”

“Me?” Harry couldn’t contain the surprise on his face or in his voice. He pulled the mask from his mouth, removed the goggles and light. Confusion lined his face as he tilted his head at her. “I jus’ fixed y’cavity love. S’my job.”

“But you made me stay so you could do that. If you didn’t tell my boss off, I probably would have gone right back to the office before you had a chance to help,” she explained.

He was glad his assumption was right, but it made him sad. Frowning, he tutted disapprovingly at her. “Love, s’not good.”

She shrugged. “It’s irrelevant now. I’m happy for the first time in like two years. Money is a little stressful, but I got a severance to keep me afloat. They have to give me insurance through the end of the year or until I get a new job so...” she shrugged. “I have good references. Plus, I always have dental school,” her smile was so cute. Like a secret for just the two of them. It nearly made him blush.

He chuckled. “Well...m’glad y’happy. If y’have trouble finding a job let me know. I know people...and I was serious. I’d hire y’in a heartbeat.”

“I’d be useless, Dr. Styles. I know next to nothing about dentistry other than my own history—”

“Harry,” he said quietly. A reminder that he told her to call him that last week.

She bit her lip. “Harry,” she repeated just as soft. Like she wasn’t supposed to say it. “Anyway, thank you,” she repeated, gratefully. “But I think I need a little break. I took that job because I was fresh out of college and wanted my foot in the door. I can wait a minute before taking a new job. I can research and make sure I don’t just like my work but my job too.”

God, he wanted to kiss her. “Well, m’offer stands,” he started to remove his glove from his hand.

“Actually,” she said and pointed to one of her molars in the back of her mouth. Harry left the glove in place. “One of my old fillings has a rough edge, could you look at it? I was so stressed-out last time I didn’t even get to ask.”

“Who was this dentist, love?” He frowned. She giggled sweetly leaning back in the chair. Harry grabbed the little mirror off the tray of tools. He didn’t replace his goggles or his mask. He just reached gently for her lower jaw and held the mirror in front of her lips. “Open.”

“Not even dinner first?” She asked quietly, with a smile. It was a reflex. Flirty and inappropriate beyond his wildest imagination. This time he did actually blush. His own lips parted, and his eyes flicked to hers unsurely and he almost released her jaw. “Oops,” she giggled, feigning innocence. Harry was so startled he didn’t know what to say to her. The words were lost. She flirted with him. It made the pit of his stomach flutter with butterflies and his heart skipped a beat. How was she so casual about it? She was so cute and so pretty he couldn’t believe it. “Sorry,” she whispered more seriously. “It just slipped out,” she promised. “I’ll be professional,” she assured him, straightening her posture and her eyes seemed to lack the light and playfulness that he witnessed only seconds before.

But he didn’t want her to be professional. He wanted to make another joke. Or lock the exam room door and take her up on the offer. But he needed to relax before his scrubs left little to the imagination for her innuendo and how it affected him below the waist. He cleared his throat and peered in her mouth trying to focus on the task when all he could focus on was how pretty her mouth was open and waiting for him.

He shook his head. “Fuck, love,” he mumbled.

“S-tha bah?” She asked around the tools in his mouth. Her eyes widening with fear again like they did last week.

“No,” he shook his head. “S’nothing. I’ll fix y’up in a minute,” he mumbled removing his hands and turned back to the computer to occupy his mind and hands before he did something stupid.

“A dentist has never cursed at my teeth,” she continued.

“Mm,” he was trying to play it cool. He didn’t want to think about what she said. Even though it was adorable and funny. Even if it was on the inappropriate side.

But Harry didn’t care if it was inappropriate.

“I have. God,I have,” she shook her head. “Sometimes I think I should just get dentures. But I need better insurance for that.” He didn’t even crack a smile, staring at his computer, trying to keep his composure. “Me and this mouth,” she mumbled. “Between what I say and my teeth I just always ruin something here.”

“Y’didn’t,” he sighed. “Y’didn’t ruin anything,” he murmured.

“You won’t even look at me. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. It was inappropriate and honestly rude. You’re a professional. You’re taking care of my teeth doing my job. I’ve dealt with enough sexual harassment seminars in the workplace to know that was out of line and I shouldn’t—”

“I liked it,” he turned to her and caught her gaze, cutting her sentence off. Her lips were partially open, not helping any of the inappropriate fantasies that were plaguing his mind at all. She was speechless. Harry thought it was the first time in their two meetings that he had seen her speechless. “M’not supposed to.”

“Right,” she whispered quietly. “I’m sorry,” her cheeks flushed with the same pink color as the bubblegum toothpaste that the little ones requested in the office. “I...I won’t do it again,” she promised looking at her lap shyly.

“S’not what I meant. It was funny and cute,” he smiled at her. The first sign he was breaking when he really shouldn’t have. But she was a consenting adult. There weren’t any explicit laws in thinking she was cute and adorable. He wanted to get to know her more. It just wasn’t his best idea. Sighing, he rubbed his jaw. Caution to the wind. “Can I take you to dinner?”

She smiled, and despite so many cavities when he could clearly see her gums and teeth were otherwise so well taken care of, she had the best smile. A perfect smile. All that dental work must have stressed her beyond belief. There was a mischievous glint in her eye, and he should have known the second he suggested they get dinner what she would say. But he was so enamored already he wasn’t thinking clearly, obviously. In just two short appointments it was easy to see she made his mind all jumbled. But he should have known already what she would say, all the same.

“Just so I’ll open wide?”

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iwas-princess · 1 year

Text

iwaizumi hajime • wedding bells

“wait- what’s that?”

the question was seemingly harmless, just a simple ask of misunderstanding and curiosity. but to you, it made your heart stop momentarily and you swore that you felt your soul dying and leaving your body to die.

“um, what? what’s what?” you asked, acting as if he wasn’t pointing right at the very obviously titled pinterest board of yours.

you both were snooping through each other’s phones, giggling about dumb photos or apps you both had and creating teasing inside jokes that would become meaningful in your relationship, when suddenly, he found the one thing that slipped your mind when you handed him your open phone— the wedding pinterest board.

you created it the moment you knew you loved him, hand selecting every detail that you desired your big day to include, even going as far as pinning lingerie that you wanted underneath your dress for him to rip off of you at the end of your reception.

it wasn’t unusual for women to go this, you’ve heard of it being a very common interest that most have when in love, so you’ve never felt insecure when showing your female friends or looking at whenever he sent you a text that had your heart bursting late at night— but you knew that men didn’t feel the same.

you’ve seen girls all over social media venting about their boyfriends calling them weird or obsessive when they discovered the ceremony plans, making a reaction of disgust and shattering their romantic girl’s dreams. you were utterly terrified of hajime reacting that way, for your relationship was practically perfect and you didn’t want something so… trivial to get in the way of that.

“this, baby. what’s ‘me n iwa’s wedding’?” a smirk quirked on his lips as he read the title out to you, his chest feeling full and stomach leaping with butterflies as he realized how much you loved him.

the cover photos were of floral arrangements on a long table outdoors, most were shades of both of your favorited colors and beautifully organized set tables. interested, he clicked on the board, ignoring all of your meme collections and driving his attention to your romantic interests.

“nothing!” you defensively answered, snatching your phone out of his hands but he was quick to grab it back.

“baby, c’mon, let me see.” he chuckled, his eyes flicking to your stunned and embarrassed face before retorting back to your phone.

you whined, nervous and humiliated as he carefully inspected each photo, taking in your preferences and custom selections.

most didn’t surprise him, having already known that you would favor certain colors and styles when it came to designs, but some were so gorgeous that he couldn’t believe they existed. your hopes for your wedding were high, leaving impression that he was who you were happy to tell stories of you both to your future grandchildren.

the ceremony matched every photo that was meant for it, proof that you had your little heart set on one idea. it was beautiful, he thought, and just your taste. but what really caught his eye, was the dress.

he could picture it all now, you walking down the isle in your dream dress, holding the bouquet you had already picked out with a smile on your face as he stood at the alter, teary eyed as he watched you make your way to seal forever with a kiss. your throughly thought out wedding was the setting, every detail he just discovered being in his vision.

“iwa, come on. stop it, i’m already embarrassed.” you whined before finally forcefully yanking your phone out of his hand.

he snapped out of his imagination as soon as your phone left his hands, the dress his eyes were trained on disappearing into only your eye sight.

he blinked for a few moments, trying to gather his thoughts on what exactly just occurred within a few minutes time.

a blush spread across your cheeks as you watched in horror his stuned expression. this was it, he was going to say something heart wrenching and left you crippled in your bed for days after at his denial.

instead, a smirk spread across his face as he turned to you.

“so, you wanna marry me huh?”

you rolled your eyes, although very embarrassed that the words flew so recklessly in the air. as if it was some big secret that you wanted your long term relationship to turn into a marriage.

“no, i wanna marry your hunky arms.”

he laughed, a genuine rawr of laughter as he crossed his bulky arms over his large chest.

you would be lying if you say that you weren’t looking at the way they bulged out of his hoodie.

“oh, princess. always so obsessed with my arms, aren’t you?” he teased, but his voice was airy and sweet, as if he adored you.

“sure.” you mumbled as you tried not to boost his massive ego too much in one hour.

you both were silent after, you contemplating whether you not you should delete the wedding board or not, while he stared at the floor smiling faint as he thought about how lovely that vision was.

you thought for sure that his silence meant something awful, that he wasn’t as flattered as he seemed to be or that was all he felt of it, flattery. he couldn’t have taken it as serious as you did, you were positive of that. no man did, not even your loving hajime.

the silence was killing you, the uncertainty of what his real reaction was eat you up with each passing moment until you finally couldn’t shut up anymore.

“i know it’s weird, and seems obsessive that i already sort of planned out our wedding. i mean, you haven’t even proposed and we never really spoke about marriage, i don’t why i put as much thought into it as i have been. i’m sorry you found out about it, i’ll delete-“

“i’m gonna marry you.” he disrupted your nervous ramble, although his attention seemed to be on anything but you.

you blinked for a moment, soaking in what exactly he just said.

“i will.” he said, “i’m going to marry you, y/n. and it’s going to look just like that, maybe even better.”

you couldn’t believe it, couldn’t fathom that this was the result of your teasing evening.

“and i’ll propose soon enough, don’t worry your pretty head about that.” he nodded, eyes still trained on the carpet. “but, we will get married eventually. this i promise you, my princess.”

tears welled in your wideded eyes, both shocked and utterly love struck at his confession.

“i-iwa-“ you whispered, emotions advent in your voice before he cut you off once more.

“don’t delete it. keep it. we’re gonna need it in the future. it’s not obsessive or weird, i promise. it’s so fucking adorable and i don’t think i’ve ever been anymore in love with you then i am now. stumbling across that will be the highlight of my whole life until it happens, and even then not even the birth of our possible children would top that.” he was looking at you now, starring kindly at you as tears started to fall down your emotion-ridden face.

he was quick to lean over and place his hands on both sided of your cheeks and wipe the tears away, smiling at you.

“don’t cry, baby.” he cooed. “i love you, and this is everything i want too. you’ll marry my biceps soon, and you’ll never have to worry about going without them.” he teased, sealing it with a wink.

you laughed breathlessly through tears.

“i love you so much, hajime.”

“i love you too, princess, now kiss me.”

#iwaizumi 🌷#iwaizumi fluff #iwaizumi #iwaizumi x reader #iwaizumi x reader fluff #iwaizumi x chubby reader #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu x chubby reader #haikyuu fluff

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cherry-leclerc · 2 months

Text

method acting ☆ cl16

genre: series, glimpse of angst, fluff, humor, strangers to friends/roommates to lovers, a bit of back and forth

word count: 4.2k

cherry here!...and it all comes crashing down.

ch. one ch. two ch. three ch. four ch. five ch. six

Chapter 5

Life, as you fear, is falling apart as you're confronted with a serious case of writer's block that puts your career on the line. As a solution, you're roommate helps you plan a solo trip to the Amalfi Coast for a much needed break but it doesn't take long for you to meet a certain Monegasque who lays passed out on the beach.

For years, you spent time behind a screen, mindlessly running after Eleanor with a notepad, messy hair sticking out like a madwoman. It must’ve been quite the sight for your fellow colleagues. A constant cycle of proving yourself to others—to your own fucking parents—that what you were doing was going to be all worth it at the end. It was only right that you were utterly exhausted.

Now suddenly, there’s this boy. He has the prettiest watercolor eyes you’ve even had the pleasure of admiring, the cutest dimples, a charming nose, most feathery lashes, pinkest lips, and above all; a heart of gold. You’ve been thrown the toughest battles—the kind you would’ve fought alone if it weren’t for Amelia and Roman—but the universe has rewarded you.

In the span of a month, Charles has completely won you over. From his boyish grin to his dominating smirk. There was just something about him that fell into place with you; like a puzzle piece. The Monegasque never failed to make you feel giddy all over, butterflies soaring freely inside your stomach.

Only now, there were a different type of eyes lurking back at you. Livid, you almost flinched at the thought of them turning red. Resentful, the kind you only thought you knew. Broken, like the glass plate laying at your feet.

But the worst had to be the betrayal, written all over them.

And you knew at that moment. This was the last and only summer.

“Wouldn’t it be scary if I just zip down because a shark bit my leg?” you ponder, gently threading through the tides. The green eyed boy tilts his head in amusement. If he hadn’t taken the time to understand your wild imagination, or dark humor, then he would’ve rolled his eyes and yawned. Instead, he slowly nudges your calf, lighthearted, droplets sliding down his face.

“Not so much as scary, but rather impossible. Sharks don’t swim near the Amalfi Coast.” You nod, though there’s a skeptical aura that lingers as you fix your snorkel. The brunette sneaks a loving glance, taking in your rosy state, scrunched nose when you swallow a gallon of sea salt water. He laughs. “You should keep an eye out for jellyfish, eh. Now those are a problem.”

“Jellyfishes and I are friends. They would never intentionally hurt me. C’mon, let's go back.”

The day had started early. Four fucking a.m. The Monegasque had hurled you out of bed, declaring that time was running out and he needed to spend all of it with you. The day prior, he had promised he would always text, call, and visit. It made your heart flutter and pounce all at the same time.

Hence, snorkeling. It was a fun and quick activity, so naturally you agreed with a killer pout as you squinted at the bright sun, despite it being the crack of dawn. Signaling to a glimmery oyster, you excitedly nod when he makes his way over. Once you reach the surface again, you clap with delight. “Can you open it for me?”

He doesn’t answer, but rather focuses his attention on snapping it wide. You can feel your eyes shimmer at the sight, an electrifying pearly white. Almost greedily, you pinch it in between your fingers, bringing it up to parade. “That is absolutely stunning. Oh my God, do you think I could turn it into a ring?”

His lips curl. “I’d say so.”

After that, you both settle into a comfortable silence. The sun was blazing hot at this point, and still there was a breeze. Just when your face would start to dry up, you would dip back in and beam at the Monegasque. He grins, crinkles, hugging the corner of his eyes. He allows himself to swoon when you wink up at the rays of sunshine. “So, I was thinking…”

“Mhm,” you murmur, orbs trained on your newly prize possession.

Nerves fill the brunette’s veins, sharp hands gently massaging his jaw, letting out a shaky breath. You furrow your brows, cocking your head to the side. Is everything alright? Charles sheepishly smiles. “Well, I, uh, was wondering…” He trails off when your lips wobble, hinting that you knew what this was all leading up to. “Would you like to go out on a date? With me,” he adds shyly.

“You were kind enough to seek me a gem,” you hum. “I would love to, Charles.”

“Wonderful,” he sighs in relief. “I-I-I know we sort of skipped a couple steps a few days ago,” he stutters anxiously. Your cheeks burn up at the reminder of him in between your legs. “So— but—I’m definitely glad that we’re able to—ouch!” he yelps in pain, teeth gritting. You fill up with panic, frantically eyeing the clear water.

“What? What?” you urge. “It’s a shark, isn’t it? I knew they would find a way!” The 26 year old barely had a chance to fill you in on what was really going on, but couldn’t really do much when you zoom out, popping the pearl into your mouth safely, floppy arms threading fast to the point that they became sore.

“There’s no—oh my word.” He grimaces, a painful expression mapped out as he, too, follows you out as quickly as he can. As he limps over to you, you scream, shiny jewel falling straight onto the ground.

“Charles, Charles, Charles.” Your stomach drops, fingers jittery, “There’s a jellyfish wrapped around your ankle…”

“You’re all caught up,” he grunts. “Get it off!”

You squeal when he lifts his leg up at you. “I can’t! Can’t you kick it off or something?”

He clenches his jaw, heavy pants filling the air. “And risk getting stung again? No, thank you. I drive for a living! I need this thing off.” He flings his leg and the transparent sea-creature disconnects, landing straight into the water. He stares back astonished and you simply laugh loudly and maniacally. You did it! “Yes, now pee on it.”

“Oh—hell no. What is this? A kink of yours?” Your nose scrunches up with clear disgust, as if you just caught a whiff of a baby’s diaper. Charles scowls. It’s supposed to help—do you think I want to do this? You gag, adamantly shaking your head. “No, no, I’ve read about this! We can add vinegar!” Briskly grabbing your essentials, you grip his wrist, already dragging him to his car.

He tears up—though, denies it—almost kicks you, and groans like a baby, but survives his injury. “Better?” Barely. Washing your hands, you share a stern glare. “At home remedies. Godsend.” He sulks deeper into his seat, wet hair trapping his face. Once you dry your hands, you plop down next to him, pecking his lips. “Grump.”

A beady eye pops open before snapping back shut. “I’d like to see you get stung.” You gasp theatrically, playfully swatting his shoulder. He chuckles, hauling you atop of him. You almost giggle like a teen, but manage to tune it out. “How ‘bout our date?”

“How about you rest? Cha, we can go out tomorrow.”

His bright eyes dim. “But we only have a few days left…”

Your mood comes crashing down as well, downcast eyes flickering like fireflies. “Then I should get ready, no?” His lips turn upward. “Meet me by the door in fifteen.”

It’s a rush, digging through your suitcase, trying to find the perfect dress, the perfect flats. You lose a good chunk of hair as you comb through it, due to the salty water, but manage. You briskly fly through your makeup routine, slather your body with perfume and lotion, and dash back downstairs, finding him already standing there.

Charles was at edge up until that moment. His tenseness slips away as soon as he sees you, looking as beautiful as ever. There’s a harsh tan going on, but even that makes you all the more breathtaking. He’s not too bad himself and you know it when you blush. From his linen navy blue shirt to his denim jeans, you swoon.

“You smell like honey,” he stammers. “You look lovely.”

“Grazie.” A beat. “You got a few new ones.”

He’s generally a cool guy, but you always strike him with some type of new feeling. He burns up, softly grazing his nose where a few freckles pop up. “That always happens when I’m out in the sun for too long. Ready?” You purse your lips, skipping towards him.

When you were eight, you had your first date. You suppose that really depends on how you see it. You mother had tried to become friends with a few ladies from the local book club and you always found yourself tagging along. Obligated, more so. His name was Joey and he had two missing teeth, so every time he spoke, a lisp would come through. It made you giggle cutely as you would lick your melted ice cream off your forearm. Eventually, your mother felt the right to storm out, pulling you away, and you never saw or heard of him again.

At eighteen, you had your last. You should've known from his name alone. James. He was tall, blond, a complete know-it-all, but he had noticed you. The crush slowly died the moment his eyes trailed to the next pretty girl, and the next, and the next.

Now, you’re mid-twenties and this feels like the right choice. He isn’t missing a row of teeth, he buys you ice cream and never once rushes you, he’s tall and proud, and has a set of chocolate curls. Most importantly, he has eyes for you and only you. It was as sweet as it could get.

“Can I ask you something?” Charles raises a brow, humming along. Twirling your pasta against the metal fork, you prop your chin on your palm. “What were you doing that day at the beach? Where we first met.”

Crimson red slashes his already burnt face as he chokes on his wine. “I wouldn’t want to ruin your perspective over me.” He drums his long fingers. “I was taking a nap.”

“Oh, well, I know that, but you were basically a goner!” You teasingly whistled. “I’m a curious little monkey, so please, enlighten me.”

The Monegasque tsks, relaxing his wide shoulders. He circles the restaurant instantly before leaning in across the table. “That day I was feeling particularly stressed. I was dealing with a lot of things and I don’t remember much after that. Except when a friend gave me a so-called magic potion.” He takes a sip to fix his dry throat. “Oh it did wonders, I tell you.” Absolute wonders, he mouths.

Your eyes widen. “Like…drugs?” you hiss, bewildered at the possibility. He cringes and nods, floppy hair bouncing. Your mouth forms a silent O, then nibble on your bottom lip, letting go. “I didn’t take you for a—”

“Me either.” You hear the sound of plates crashing down as you flinch and you both turn your attention to the apologetic waiter. The older couple look pissed, bitterly curse out the poor man, and blink as if they weren’t the vulgar ones. Charles rolls his eyes, then sighs. “I don’t think I could ever understand people like that.”

“Ruthless?”

“Took the words right out of my mouth. It’s ugly. Makes them look so out of touch with reality, which I suppose is true.” Green eyes flicker to the waiter once again before getting up to help. Tonight is really only the first time he’s gone out without his supposed disguise, so it’s obviously made your stomach flip at the thought of someone recognizing him.

Which they do.

“Charles Leclerc?” The accent is thick—and clearly Italian—as they step closer, phone already whipping out. The brunette turns, a lopsided smile drawn. “Holy shit! It’s really you! Can I please have a picture?” After a few minutes of chatter, the Monegasque excuses himself from the group, looking a bit suffocated.

“Being tackled in public? That’s what stresses you out, right?” His breath gets caught in his throat, but doesn’t make a move to shut the claim down. He answers by turning his attention to his lap. You sigh. “What did you take and who gave it to you?”

“You probably don’t even know him—Daniel. He’s quite the man, knows lots of people, and thought it would help. It did. Coke. I-it was my first and only try, I promise.”

You release a further breath. “You’re old enough to know your wrongs from rights. I trust you.” He eases up. “Doesn't mean you should rely on that.”

Charles looks up with a frown. “I feel like a fucking scumbag. I mean, does it make me a bad person to dread meeting fans sometimes? They’re always supporting me—it’s the least I could do.”

“You’re only human, Cha. You have your good and bad days. They would understand.” He shrugs, smiles, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Do you remember what you told me that day you cooked that godforsaken meal?”

He nips the air. “You said it was delicious!”

You snicker, glad to see his humor coming back. “I lied. No, but you told me I had to stop pleasing everyone around me. Focus on myself. You said that. And I advise you to do the same.”

He’s heard this countless times. With Charlotte, which he only tuned out angrily, blaming her for not understanding his duties. Carlos, narrating how he of all people should understand. Pierre, smacking his head before walking away, already annoyed that too many people had tried to help, how he got called out on repeat. But with you, he simply nodded, somewhat agreeing. Not completely, but enough. That itself was a lot when it came to him and his stubbornness. Something inside of him told him he would do whatever you asked him to. It was a scary—liberating—feeling.

The last time he felt this was with…

A wave of realization slithers across his features. Charlotte. That last person he felt this familiar feeling was for Charlotte. And even then, their relationship felt foolish compared to anything he’s ever felt for you. There were sparks flying when you fluttered your doe eyes back at him, when you called him out on anything he does with a witty sense of humor…

He’s been fucked ever since the tiny ballerina kissed the hot-headed Stormtrooper.

“My words of wisdom are pretty clever,” he voices, smirking. “You’re right. I should focus more on myself.” Pause. “Thank you. For everything. For taking the time to get to know me. Not many bother these days.”

You want to cry at the gratitude written all over his handsome face, the sound of his disbelief, like a kid who genuinely thought they’d be picked last for a game of tag.

��You're very important to me, Charles.” You gently take his large hand into your smaller one. He stiffens. “You won’t ever forget that, right?”

“Not even if I try, no.” Then he presses a warm kiss onto your skin, and you feel him smile against it. “Anything you say or do would take me forever to overlook, to erase.” More pressure expands through your already firm chest, ragged breaths. “Something tells you’re a once in a lifetime type of person. How could I ever let that slip away?”

You excuse yourself in a flash, tears threatening to spill after his touch felt words. Just when you thought you couldn’t feel more two-faced, he somehow squeezes your heart around his fist, and you deserve every ounce of shame, of guilt.

After a round of paper towels that you dab as harsh as soft Kleenex, you force a bright smile in the mirror, shooting a quick thumbs up and storming back out to your date.

The 26 year old was concerned about the hazy interaction, perturbed eyes blinking as you got up as if you had just seen the Devil himself, unbeknownst that you felt like one. He’s left anxiously waiting, tapping his shoes against the shiny tiles, leg bouncing up and down with anticipation. Cursing underneath his breath, he stands up and makes his way to the women's restroom. He receives a few baffled glances when he bolts down the hallway.

“Jesus Christ,” you yelp, finding Charles right in front of you when you swing the door open. His green eyes narrow like knives, carefully analyzing your pink nose, red rimmed eyes. “You scared me—”

“What did they say to you?”

You frown. “What are you talking about?”

His hands make their way up to cradle your face, thumbs grazing your temples. You raise a neat brow. “Did anyone follow you? See you? Were they rude? My fans aren’t normally like this, I promise they’re sweet, but if they did anything to you, I swear to God—”

Instantly shaking your head, you let out a nervous giggle. “No one said anything, don’t worry. I just really had to pee. Promise.”

This is what he was most afraid of when he first opened up to you, to go out in public. Charles was terrified at the image of your privacy being invaded, much like his. For hurtful words or actions to be aimed at you. And then you blink up at him with a sour expression because he knows you just cried, he obviously grew protective. Leaning down, he meekly kisses your forehead. “What’s wrong then? You hate me that much?” he jokes.

You bite back a smile. “Something like that. How about we go somewhere dear to us?”

Added to the torment of what you were feeling, you didn’t think things could get any worse—and yet.

Today. By today. Get it done.

Aghast, your delicate fingers come up to your berry lips, pinching at them nervously before biting down on your thumb, re-reading Eleanor’s message. Friday. You originally had until Friday. It’s only Wednesday. Sure, only a forty-eight hour difference, but still. You wanted to hold onto the most valuable time possible if you could. You try convincing her to change her mind, but it was a worthless battle. You knew once she had her mind set on it, then that’s exactly what had to happen.

By today.

You’re sobbing, panting, your vision is blurry as you type on your phone, angry as you fiddle against the tiny screen. Who could you really be mad at? Eleanor? No. Charles? No. The universe? Tempting, but no. It was all you. If you hadn’t mentioned having a possible exclusive for the sake of saving your job, then you wouldn’t be tangled in this mess.

You can’t go down that way, it’s ladies only!

I’m terribly sorry, but I have to check on my wife.

You recognize his urgent voice, deep and raw. His words aren’t true, but it fucks you up just the same. Hurrying to slip your phone back inside your purse, you quickly fix your appearance before opening the wide door, finding Charles mid-knock.

“Jesus Christ. You scared me.”

“Back where we started,” the green eyed boy chirps when he spots the tiny pub that sits atop of the hill. “It feels as if we were just here yesterday. This is fantastic.”

“I didn’t think you loved it that much,” you poke fun, bumping your hip against his. His watercolor eyes flicker to yours for a brief moment, then focusing back at the old shed.

“Things can surely change in the span of a month.”

The implication was as clear as daylight, but it only flew past your head as you enthusiastically ran up, smiling back at him. Nico is still there, serving drinks with a cheshire grin, when he spots you. “I remember you! How have you been, cara mia? Is Italy treating you well enough?”

You buzz, tippy toeing as you sheepishly try to spot the main reason you came back. “Oh, definitely. I think I might stay. Do you, um, happen to have—”

“Got it right here,” he says, gloved hand wrapping around the familiar liquid. You blush, ordering a round—bottle—and making your way back to the Monegasque. As soon as the tray hits your table, he throws a dubious stare, thanking the older man. “Huge fan, Mr. Leclerc.” He extends his Ferrari merch with a timid grin. “Do you mind?”

Charles returns the warm smile. “Not at all.” He signs away sloppily, but professionally. Nico zooms cheerfully, eager to boast out to his co-workers. You giggle. Very nice, very nice. He shrugs nonchalantly. “Does my kind gesture get me a kiss?”

“We’ll see,” you mumble, looking away before he spots your pink cheeks.

He sighs dramatically. “Do you really think it’s for the best if you drink this crap again? Do you remember the last time you had a sip?”

“I’ll go easy. This shit is good.” Throwing your head back, you gulp down the sweet alcoholic drink, eyes squeezing tightly before you huff. “Exactly. Try some.” The brunette does, but steady, a careful eye always lingering onto you. You don’t get drunk this time—rather tipsy. You tell yourself it's because you don’t want to wake up with a killer headache tomorrow, but you know that’s far from the truth. It’s simple. You just didn’t want to forget the last moments you had with him.

His adoration would only last so long.

Clicking your phone open, you clumsily had it over to him. Record me. He huffs, but amusement colors his orbs. “Here we go again…” You snicker playfully, marching over to the lady at the piano. You’re back, she pronounces.

“I am.” You laugh. “Do you happen to play guitar?”

She shakes her head sadly before lighting up. “But Nico does. Nico!” she screams as the man rushes over. “You play song for pretty girl standing right here?” Volentieri, he chirps, looking for his rusty instrument. After a bit of discussion, you twirl back, walking to the center stage.

“I can still recall, our last summer. I still see it all.” Charles laughs, throwing his head back like a little kid as he reminds himself to keep your phone steady. “Walks along the Seine, laughing in the rain. Our last summer, memories that remain.”

The guitar is a lone act, but fills up the room as if there were a band. Occasionally, the keys of the broken piano fill the room as you smile gently. From the way you dance to the way you smile, Charles lives for every moment, taking in your happiness.

You should have seen the foreshadowing. The song. The plates that crashed during dinner. The stare. It was all laying right out in front of you, and you stupidly chose to ignore it until it was too late.

“Our last summer, walking hand in hand…” You trail off the moment his eyes turn dark, furrowing to the screen then back to you, as if trying to come up with a possible explanation. He stands up abruptly, chair squeaking so loud that everyone’s heads turn to look. “No,” you whisper in disbelief when he walks out, leaving you like an open love letter.

“No, no, no, no, no.” Flying down the stairs, you trip a couple of times, concerned glances shared between Nico and the older lady. None of it matters as you run after Charles.

Anger must give you wings because he’s long gone when you reach the open air. Dirt crunches underneath your heels as you desperately try to catch a sign that he’s around. When he’s not, you instantly call a cab, rudely directing him to your shared Airbnb.

He loves you; he's sure of it the moment you tuck a strand of hair behind your jeweled ear, slightly hesitant as you try to refresh Nico’s mind over what song you wanted. He even practices a few strings before winking over at you.

He knows it the moment you reach a certain note that makes your voice crack, smiling shyly, giggling through your singing.

And you loved him all too late.

Draft is perfect. Green light, publish it. We can talk about your promotion when you get back. Congratulations. Hard work really does pay off.

He recognizes the name as soon as it blares across your screen, still recording you, spinning across the stage without a care in the world. He feels inanely invasive when he clicks on the email, but pushes the feeling away with the fact that this appeared to be good news, and was there really any harm to that?

Charles Leclerc: The Man Behind the Helmet.

He reads through, spotting your name swiftly.

Sat down with him…

High on the beach—a desperate tactic to release some much needed stress during the off season…

Golden pin, prancing horse. Gifted from the late, Hervé Leclerc…

Fearful of what’s to come once Hamilton enters the picture later in 2025…

He’s skimming but it’s enough for him to wonder if he’s experiencing true headache right now. Your voice cuts off, turning pale as you blink back at him. Fury enters his veins as he storms out, not caring about what you must think. He hears you chasing after him, but manages to climb into the first cab he sees.

What he hates the most is that he still feels like a complete idiot for leaving you behind. For marching out without a single word.

For being so stupid.

taglist: @blueflorals @starmanv @coolio2195 @lovrsm @weekendlusting@chanshintien @brune77e @myownwritings @timmychalametsstuff @milasexutoire @alesainz @c-losur3 @darleneslane @togazzo @urfavnoirette @namgification @lpab @d3kstar

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fadedin2u · 5 months

Text

pick up and roll the dice (ch. 1)

read in between the lines, i know you love me…

Summary: You’ve been best friends with Ellie since she moved into your neighborhood in elementary school, and now, you’re sharing a dorm room together at college. What could go wrong when you both start reading between the lines? Based on the song Hold On by The Internet.

word count: 2.5k

content: childhood best friends!au, dealer!ellie, fem!reader, college!au, modern!au, hurt/comfort, ellie’s a little bit of a player, ellie is a simp (not surprising), art major!ellie, kinda slow burn??

warnings: sexual harassment (mentioned), drug usage (weed), lots of cursing (what do you expect), men (mentioned), expect nsfw chapters in the future so MDNI 18+

notes: this is my first fic i’ve written for tlou, and it’s about damn time bc i’ve been lurking in the ellie williams x reader tags for months lmao, hope you enjoy! next chapter should be out by the end of the weekend! reblogs/likes are much appreciated :) let me know if you want to be added to the tag list!

You’re welcomed into your dorm room by the smell of pot smoke. You walk in, already in a foul mood, shaking with adrenaline and anxiety. You drop your bag on the floor and kick off your shoes.

Ellie, your roommate and close friend since childhood, is sitting on her twin bed, leaning out the window as she smokes a joint. She’s dressed casually in a pair of old sweatpants and a t-shirt, her auburn hair haphazardly thrown up into a half-bun, most strands too short to all be gathered into a single bun. When she catches sight of you, she immediately can tell something is up.

“You okay?” Ellie asks, tapping the ash from her joint out the window.

You walk over to Ellie’s bed and melodramatically collapse face-first with a “Hmmph.”

“I’m dropping out.” You deadpan, your voice muffled by Ellie’s duvet.

Ellie takes a long drag from her joint and exhales a puff of smoke before turning to you, her eyebrows raised. “Huh? What?”

She sits up, holding the joint between her fingers before she gestures for you to clarify.

“You can’t drop out. What’re you gonna do all day? Sit around and eat Oreos?”

You stay face-planted onto Ellie’s bed.

“Yup. And I’ll be lazy and happy.” You say.

It takes every ounce of self-restraint inside of Ellie to not shove you off of her bed right this second. Instead, she leans forward and nudges your shoulder with her knee.

"Babe. Honey. Sweetie. Angel-Face. Get up. You sound like a dumbass right now.”

You roll over, and Ellie notices that your eyes are red and puffy, clearly having cried before coming back to the dorm.

“Hey! I’m having a crisis!” You exclaim, folding your arms over your chest.

Ellie’s face softens and her eyebrows furrow, concerned. “Hey… What’s going on? Want some of this?” She offers the joint to you.

You take it gratefully, taking a long drag. You shake her head, looking down at your miniskirt. “I really need to stop wearing this skirt in public… When I was walking back here, two dudes started following me and saying weird, gross shit. I tried telling them off, but I must have looked so pathetic that they just laughed… They followed me almost the whole way here.”

You pass the joint back to Ellie, saying sarcastically, “So, yes. In conclusion, I’m dropping out.”

Ellie is stunned silent. Her high buzz instantly fades and she reaches out to put a comforting hand on your shoulder. Ellie doesn't say anything at first, but she looks down at you with a worried expression on her face.

She puts out her half-finished joint, and scoots forward on the bed towards you. Her expression is stern and angry, and she seems utterly furious on your behalf.

“Did those fucking pieces of shit touch you? Did you call the cops?”

As she’s speaking, Ellie’s entire demeanor changes, and it’s obvious how upset these men made her. Ellie always seems to have a lot of rage built-up inside of her, but it’s amplified now.

You bite your lip, looking down.

“They didn’t touch me… I didn’t call the cops. I wasn’t thinking clearly, I should have called someone, but I was so freaked out, and… I’m sorry, Els.” You say quietly.

Ellie grabs your arm and pulls you towards her.

"It's okay, babe. It's not your fault."

Ellie leans forward to hug you tightly, rubbing your back.

"Those dickwipes should have never said anything to you. Let alone touched you. If they ever do that again, you tell me, and I'll take care of it."

Ellie takes a deep breath and sighs. She leans back against the wall and pulls you with her, keeping you close. You allow yourself to be pulled into Ellie’s hold, grateful, and you feel tears press at the back of your eyes.

“I’m sorry, I really don’t want to cry again.” You say, hiding your face in Ellie’s shoulder.

Ellie wraps her arms around you tighter, comforting you.

"Hey. It's alright to cry. Let it all out." She murmurs soothingly. "Don't be ashamed. You were just fucking harassed."

She holds you, continuing to rub your back and kissing the top of your head. Ellie feels sick at the thought of you hurting or struggling alone.

You sniffle as a few tears run down your cheeks, still hiding your face in Ellie’s shoulder.

“I just don’t understand what I can possibly do in those situations. And I feel like they happen all the fucking time.”

You wipe your face, “Like fucking yesterday! When I got catcalled at 8AM by the construction workers working on the new science building, and I was just trying to get to class!”

You shake your head, “I just feel so helpless in those situations, because they don’t even see me as a real person.”

"Well, you gotta make them see you as a force to be reckoned with." Ellie says, her voice stern.

She pauses, and lets out an exhale.

"These guys obviously aren't going to stop catcalling and harassing women, so either we ignore the comments, or we learn how to respond. It's a fucking shame that it has to be this way but..."

Ellie sighs and leans back. She rubs your shoulder with one hand, and her other hand gently rests on your thigh.

You feel your cheeks go hot, hyper-focused on Ellie’s hand on your leg.

“But, Els… I can’t fight for shit. There’s no way those guys could ever be intimidated by me the way you can intimidate them.”

You wipe your face, embarrassed by your tears. “Like, how could they possibly see me as anything other than a ‘slut who’s asking for it’, if I recall what they wouldn’t stop saying to me correctly.” You say, quoting the men who followed you home.

Ellie leans in a little closer and rests her head on your shoulder.

"I think that my girl can kick ass and dish it out as good as she takes it." Ellie's expression looks serious, and she gently squeezes your thigh as she speaks.

"Like, have you ever seen those videos on Instagram where girls absolutely own some big dudes? That'll be you, dude. Trust me, I know exactly what you're capable of. You just gotta learn how to take up space."

You laugh a little, wiping your face again.

“Is this you telling me that I need to take a boxing class?” You ask, raising an eyebrow.

Ellie chuckles, and smiles as she squeezes your leg again.

"Hell yeah. Take a boxing class. I wanna see you punch a fuckin' guy's lights out the next time he wants to harass you."

Ellie pauses and takes a deep breath.

"If you're worried about money for lessons or fuck-all, you know I got your back, right?" Ellie says earnestly. "And if there's any guy who's giving you problems, just say the fucking word and I'll kick their ass for you."

You laugh again, sniffling as you hug Ellie.

“My knight in shining armor.” You joke.

You pull back, taking a breath. “Thank you though, seriously. Today was just an overall shitty day, and I’m just glad that I get to come back to our dorm and be with my best friend.”

"Anytime." Ellie's expression is soft as she smiles at you.

Ellie glances at the joint on her bedside table, and glances back at you.

"Wanna hit that? Or are you tapped-out?"

You go to pick up the joint, and use Ellie’s lighter to re-light it.

“Me? Tapping out? Please-“ You say as you smile at Ellie, taking a drag.

Ellie chuckles, watching you with a fond smile.

You pass the joint to Ellie. “Besides, I’m chilling the fuck out tonight. Today was garbage, and I don’t want to keep thinking about anything.”

Ellie chuckles and shakes her head as she takes the joint.

"I feel so bad that you had such a fucking awful day. I know you've been going through some stuff recently, so today was the absolute last thing you needed."

Ellie inhales a long drag, and looks down at you.

"Can I ask you something, though?"

You nod, “Yeah, what’s up?”

You take the joint, hit it, and pass it back to Ellie.

Ellie takes another inhale and holds the smoke in for a moment.

"Do you ever just... like... hate men?" she looks at you. "I mean, you know... with everything you experience, and the guys you described today. Like, you ever just look at a guy, and immediately start hating him?"

Ellie pauses, taking another hit, "I mean, it's all I can think about, half the time, and I just... I can't fucking stand them most of the time."

You sigh, taking a hit from the joint and nodding.

“Yeah. I wish I didn’t. I wish that most men didn’t act the way they do, but they do. It’s kinda hard not to hate people who objectify and demean you every day of your life just for existing.”

Ellie pauses before speaking, "Do you think that Joel might ever be like that? I mean, I don't think so. He's a good guy and all. Just... you never know."

Ellie pauses and sighs. She's obviously been worrying about this for a while.

"Am I being dumb? Am I being stupid for thinking like that? I don't know. I just… I'm worried that, one day, people I love like Jesse and my dad are going to turn out to be a couple of fucking perverts."

You pause, having known Joel for years, taking a hit from the joint.

“I- I don’t know. I think they’re good people, especially Joel, but you never really know, until they slip up,” You say.

You squeeze Ellie’s shoulder, “I do really think that Joel is one of my favorite people I’ve gotten the chance to know, and I have crazy high standards for men. Your dad would never do anything to hurt you, and I don’t think he’d do anything to any one else either.”

You pass the joint to Ellie.

Ellie takes the joint and inhales, then passes it back to you.

"Yeah, you're right. You're totally right, and I know that. It's just hard, because I have such a negative image of guys right now, but you're right."

Ellie leans back and relaxes, "I just feel like I've been having some trust issues lately, and it sucks, and I've been… paranoid about people."

She pauses, and her voice starts to falter. "I just don't want to be let down like I have, you know?”

You nudge Ellie’s leg with your knee, “Hey. I won’t let you down. Or, at least, I’ll always try to not let you down, no matter what.”

You smile at Ellie, “We’re a team. Always have been, always will be.”

Ellie's eyes light up, “That's right. We will always have each other's backs. We’re always going to be there for each other."

Ellie takes a hit from the joint, and leans back. "I love you, you know that? Even though I've been a total bitch, these last few weeks… I need you more than you could possibly know."

Ellie pauses and looks down at you. "You are, without a doubt, the best friend I've ever had in my whole life."

You take the joint from Ellie, hitting it with a smile on your face as you internally curse yourself for getting flustered. Your head feels fuzzy from the weed.

“The feeling is mutual.” You say, passing Ellie the joint.

“I never got to ask, by the way, but how was your date with that girl… Kaylee? Karlie?” You ask to change the subject, trying to remember the name of Ellie’s latest of many campus flings.

Ellie laughs, "It's Kylie." she corrects, smirking and nudging your thigh.

"The date was a fun distraction, even though Kylie is a complete airhead. And, uh..." Ellie pauses, her face warming with embarrassment.

"...she tried to kiss me, and I completely froze.”

Ellie takes a hit and shakes her head, "I can't believe that I turned her down! She's cute and a fuckin’ cheerleader. I should have gone for it, I probably ruined my chances with her."

You laugh a little, pushing down the spikes of jealousy piercing your chest.

“Ellie Williams froze when a girl tried to kiss her?” You tease, knowing that Ellie is normally fairly bold.

“What happened? Were you too nervous or something?” You ask, taking a hit from the joint and passing it back to Ellie.

Ellie's face is a mix of embarrassment and frustration as you tease her. Ellie pauses, thinking.

"...Well, I froze because... I… I don't know. She seemed like a nice girl, but she's so... shallow."

Ellie sighs, taking a hit from the joint, and leans back.

"I'm a horrible dater, I know. I just have such a hard time connecting with people, I don't know."

You frown, “Hey. Don’t beat yourself up. She just doesn’t sound like the right girl, and that’s totally fine. You don’t need to get mad at yourself for not having an instant connection with a girl just because she’s hot.”

You pass the joint to Ellie, “Okay, you have the rest.”

Ellie smiles at you as she takes a hit and holds it in.

Ellie lets it out and shakes her head. "...Yeah, you're right. I just think I'm just trying so hard to find a connection with someone, y'know?"

"It's just hard to really trust someone new… I've been hurt by a lot of people in my life, and the last thing I want is to get hurt again." Ellie explains, her freckled cheeks rosy.

You sigh, “It is really scary to be vulnerable like that with people, I… I really fucking get that.”

You play with the hem of your skirt as you talk, “But there are people who are good, and trustworthy, and won’t leave you in the dust. I mean, you’re proof of that for me.”

Ellie's expression softens as she looks over at you

"I guess we are really similar in that way. We're both traumatized, we're both paranoid, and we're both distrustful. Fuck, who could blame us?" Ellie says with a shrug.

Ellie pauses, "I'm just glad I have you. You're the only people who I think I can really be myself around. Everyone else can fuck off. But not you."

Your stoned, hazy mind is thankfully quiet as you lean against Ellie, the two of you sat side-by-side on her bed.

Ellie’s cheeks get more pink as you do, her eyes half-lidded and red as she pulls you into her.

“Just… Relax. You really fucking deserve it.” Ellie says softly, her voice low and raspy from the smoke.

You nuzzle your face into her shirt, closing your eyes as you melt into her, and everything is good.

Ellie looks down at you, her pupils dilated and cheeks flushed. She looks back up at the ceiling, clenching her eyes shut as she thinks, I’m fucked.

chapter 2

texts with ellie and reader

#Spotify #ellie williams #tlou2 #tlou #ellie williams x reader #ellie x reader #ellie williams fanfic #ellie tlou #rose writes #pick up and roll the dice

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doumadono · 8 months

Text

Warnings: smut w/o plot, cunnilingus, fingering, rough p in v, dirty talking, f!reader, doggy style, voyeurism Synopsis: Toji and you reunite after a lengthy separation

MASTERLIST

"I can't wait to taste every part of you," Toji purred with anticipation, his voice oozing sensuality.

Toji drew you into a languid, deep kiss, his tender lips caressing yours with deliberate slowness. Your mouth yielded to his, and his strong tongue explored every inch. You arched your head backward, granting him full access to your eager mouth. Toji seized the opportunity, his tongue sliding in and out, initially with a deliberate rhythm that gradually quickened. His kiss was commanding yet perfectly in control. Each stroke of his tongue danced over the contours of yours, a tantalizing symphony of mouths, lips, and tongues merging into a passionate, erotic choreography uniquely your own. As your mouths melded in this sultry embrace, an electric tension built between you, evident in the moist desire that began to seep between your trembling thighs. The urgency grew palpable. You yearned for him as much as he craved to see you stripped bare, an irresistible temptation that demanded immediate satisfaction.

"Aren't we going to your bedroom, babe?” You asked.

"No, ascending those stairs is a luxury I can't afford right now. I ache to sense your flesh pressed against mine," Toji insisted.

He had an uncanny knack for saying the most alluring things at precisely the right moments. Without delay, Toji shed your garments as you both entered the living room. For a brief instant, he left your lacy bra and matching panties in place. The sheer, white lace bra outlined your nipples tantalizingly.Even though Toji loved when you wore lingerie, he needed you raw and bare right now. With a deft motion, he encircled you and unfastened your bra. Aside from your lace panties, you stood naked, your body an exquisite sight. When the light from the living room window reflected onto your eyes, you were utterly breathtaking.

"Mmmm, you're absolutely stunning," Toji whispered as his hands traversed your curves, from breasts to waist to hips.

Toji sensed a trace of modesty as you stood almost bare before the uncovered window. You allowed his hands to explore your form freely. His lips met yours in an impassioned collision, tongues entwining. You surrendered to his passionate kiss, your lips yielding like butter to his unyielding steel. As you pulled away to catch your breath, your gaze drifted toward the window, only to discover that the curtains were drawn up, offering an unobstructed view of the street outside.

"Wait, the curtains are open, and there's a man walking in front of the house!" You whispered, your voice lowered as if the man outside could overhear you.

"I couldn't care less who's watching. I need to be inside you, right now!" Toji demanded, his voice turning colder.

With those words, Toji swiftly guided you to his spacious chaise lounge near the window. He gently pushed you onto the chair, removed your panties, and spread your legs wide. Toji was a man of considerable size, and he desired unobstructed access to your needy cunt. As he drew closer to the entrance of your arousal, a faint trace of your alluring scent filled his senses, and he smirked. Toji reveled in your aroma, and it intoxicated him. He leaned back slightly, savoring the anticipation, and began placing slow, deliberate kisses on your inner thighs. His aim was to tease you, to make you yearn for the moment when his tongue would finally caress your eager clit.

Toji began to delicately explore your most sensitive spot, alternating between soft kitten licks and gentle suctions on your clit. Occasionally, he ventured to dip his tongue into your tight, eager core. With a deep understanding of the rhythm you craved, Toji skillfully worked to unlock the release he yearned to taste.

"Oh! Toji! I can't hold back much longer!" You moaned, lost in pleasure.

"I want you to cum for me, baby, all over my mouth," Toji ordered huskily.

Driven by your escalating moans, Toji intensified his movements. His mouth's moisture mingled with your own intoxicating juices, causing your cries of ecstasy to grow louder. The intensity of your pleasure was such that anyone outside might have heard your passionate cries, as you were perilously close to the window. "Wait, Toji! Someone might see us," you gasped, your voice filled with a mixture of desire and concern.

"Fuck it, I don't care who watches. I want to hear you surrender to me completely," Toji asserted, his desire unwavering.

Toji knew exactly how to bring you to the brink of ecstasy. He continued his skillful attention to your sensitive clit, while simultaneously sliding two calloused fingers into your cunt. Your hips responded with a rhythmic undulation, as your entire being was propelled into a cosmic journey with each of Toji's tantalizing strokes, both with his tongue and fingers. As the electric currents surged within your pulsating depths, an overwhelming desire overtook you, and you pulled Toji's head closer to your already dripping pussy. "Oh, my God! Oh, my God! I'm about to cum!" You cried out in sheer ecstasy as your head lolled back.

Those words were like a sweet melody to Toji's ears. After the waves of your climax washed over Toji's mouth, he withdrew, gazing down at your swollen, glistening folds. His desire to witness your private porn show further on, so he continued to tease your slit, tracing his fingers along the silken contours of your quivering petals. Yet, Toji resisted the temptation to plunge his fingers deep into your velvety embrace again, savoring the delicious anticipation of making you beg for more. Your arousal was palpable, and the glistening evidence of your desire trickled down your trembling thighs.

"Please, please, I need you inside me," you pleaded with an urgency that mirrored your burning need.

"Oh, Y/N, you'll soon feel every inch of me," Toji replied with a husky promise. "I've waited for this moment, and I won't hold back. Are you ready for me to take you hard?" Toji withdrew his fingers from your slick folds and brought them to your lips, a wicked gleam in his eyes. "Can you be a good girl for me and taste your own sweet essence?" He inquired, his fingers sliding sensually in and out of your eager mouth.

You remained wordless but avidly sucked on his fingers, as though they were your last taste of ecstasy. It was a clear signal that you were primed for more. Toji's other hand skillfully worked your breast, reveling in the exquisite sensation of pinching your responsive nipples until you released a pleasured yet pained cry. The symphony of your sounds served as a seductive soundtrack that only intensified Toji's arousal, making his shaft grow even harder in his pants.

Your impassioned cries echoed your weeks-long anticipation for his touch, and Toji was well aware of his mastery over your body. As you teetered on the precipice of desire, you acted on impulse, seizing Toji's hand and trying to guide his fingers back inside your eager core. However, he restrained himself, denying you what you craved. Your pleas and whimpers for him to claim you filled the air. "Please, fuck me. Use me completely. I ache for your cock within me," you moaned, your voice dripping with desire.

Swiftly, he pulled you from the chair, pivoting you to face it. With practiced ease, he unzipped his pants, then placed your ass in the perfect position to immerse his cock deep into your pussy. Taking you from behind while partially upright was a sensual delight that neither of you could resist. "Fuck, I'm going to take you harder than I've ever taken you or I'll go nuts," Toji exclaimed with unrestrained passion.

As Toji pressed his sturdy shaft into you, the sensation of your wet, velvety walls enveloping him sent shivers of pleasure coursing through his body. "Fuck!" He growled. He fought the urge to lose control, initially setting a deliberate pace that gradually gained momentum. With each forceful thrust, your voice crescendoed, echoing the building intensity.

"I should ease up, baby, or this'll be over before it begins," Toji groaned, his voice strained with desire. "But damn, you feel so incredible. It's a challenge to rein myself in, fuck!"

Toji, determined to savor this long-awaited moment, withdrew from your slick cunny in an attempt to slow down. However, the cool air surrounding his throbbing length seemed to conspire against him, guiding him back into your welcoming warmth. He could see his thick veined shaft was covered with your sweet juice when he pulled out of you again.

He could hear his hips slapping against your ass repeatedly as he jack-hammered into your sweet cunt. Though Toji fought for control, the weeks of anticipation and desire were now driving him to merge completely with you. There was no turning back; you were his, and he was yours.

In a fleeting instant, he buried himself deep within your cunt again, pinning your head further into the oversized lounge chair. Withdrawing again, he gripped your supple ass cheeks, parting them slightly to witness his powerful entry into your dripping core. As your slick essence glistened, even your tight little entrance beckoned. Toji's patience waned, his need to release overwhelming his restraint. Without hesitation, he thrust his engorged member back into your slick, eager core.

Ecstasy overtook you, and your impassioned cries filled the room as Toji fervently jack-hammered his thick length deep inside you.

"I can't hold back! I'm going to cum soon! Y/N, are you ready for me to cum inside you?" He growled in a voice you barely recognized.

"Yes, yes!" You cried out eagerly.

Toji loved fucking you from behind, showing no mercy as he drove into your pretty, little pussy.

Your moans harmonized with the forceful thrusts, a symphony of shared desire spiraling out of control. Your need mirrored his, an insatiable craving that drove you both relentlessly. With every powerful thrust of him, the tension within Toji swelled, his impending orgasm coursing from his balls into the throbbing shaft of his dick. Your stuttered pleas for him to go harder, the sensual moans, and desperate whimpers only fueled his fervor. He knew you might be tender afterward, but he cared not. This was a primal need he had to fulfill. "Darling, I'm so close," Toji grunted, his rhythm slowing as he reached around to gently stroke your trembling clit. He knew this touch would propel you to the brink of no return.

"Oh, Toji, I'm about to cum too!"

"Give in to it, my love. Cum all over my cock," Toji commanded.

Your release flooded his shaft, each wave of your orgasm coaxing him to release. Toji drove into you one final time, an intense force of passion. His arousal pulsed, feeling his essence rush from his core, through his shaft, and into your heated, swollen, abused pussy. With each throb of his climax, your velvet depths drew out every drop of his essence.

Your shared ecstasy echoed in your husky breaths, a profound intimacy you had just experienced. Gradually, your breathing returned to a steady rhythm. Toji gently lifted you from the chair, turned you around, and enveloped you in his strong embrace. As he looked down, he noticed the imprints of your hands on the chair's arms. Without a second thought, he nuzzled his face into your neck, placing soft kisses there.

When you finally opened your eyes, your gaze drifted outside the window once more. You spotted the silhouette of a tall man standing beside the bushes near the window, the same figure you had glimpsed earlier. He had evidently moved closer for a better view. Realization dawned that this stranger had been watching the entire passionate encounter, yet instead of embarrassment, you met his gaze with a confident smile.

Unfazed by the voyeur's presence, you and Toji kissed passionately. Your connection, both physical and emotional, was paramount.

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sunflowersteves · 10 months

Note

hiii I want to know what a drunk reader x Miguel O’Hara would look like, like I just see him taking care of reader while they’re obviously drunk 🤭

ugh he’d be so caring I just know it, I love this grumpy man fr

warnings || alcohol, reader is drunk, pure fluff, protective miguel, f!reader, not edited

masterlist

Miguel sat on the couch in the living room, knee bouncing up and down as he waited. He checked the clock in the corner of the room. 3:35 am. Thirty-five minutes late.

He tried to not let his mind race with the possibilities but it starting to create a dull ache that rested on top of his chest.

What if someone kidnapped you? What if you were hurt? What if someone was bothering you? What if your friend got too drunk too?

He had forced himself to close his eyes. He needed to calm down. He took a very deep breath, letting his shoulder muscles fluctuate with his chest.

You told him that you were going out with a group of your friends, as one of them has gotten engaged recently. You wanted to celebrate over drinks, cocktails, and dancing. His eyes widened at the elegant dress that slid over each curve of your body—you had him utterly stunned. He smiled wide, then pressed a sweet kiss to your cheek and wishing you much fun. You told him that your friends would drop you off at 3:00.

Well, it’s 3:37, now.

His eyes flickered to the headlights that protrude light through the large living room window. He recognizes the blue Sedan that one of your friends has. He could feel the pressure of your whereabouts lift from his shoulders.

He lets out a huff, “Dios mío.”

His ears perked up at the sound of your giggles from outside of the door. He stands up, fast, and practically launched himself to the front door. He just needed to see if you were okay.

When he finally opens the door, your friend—the one that has your arm wrapped around her shoulder for support—greets him. “Hey, Miguel.”

His eyes run up and down on your form in an attempt to detect anything that could be wrong. Luckily, he found none. He could tell you were drunk, though. Your lips were pursed, your eyes were dazzling under the moon, and your clothes had shifted to the side. The sight made him internally smile.

“Hi.” He says, voice naturally gruff. “Thank you for giving her a ride.”

She smiles, looking at you before turning her attention back to Miguel. “I made her drink some water on the way home, but she’s still pretty out of it.”

He nods and takes a step closer. “Thank you. Drive home safe.” Your friend nods back and lets him take over. He isn’t even halfway out the door of your shared home before you notice him.

“Miggy? Baby?” You quietly whined. Once you fully recognized who was in front of you, your hands reached out immediately. You were grabby—but swaying and stumbling your way over to him.

“I’m right here, querida. I’m right here.” He soothes. You finally land in his chest and you seemed attached to him like a koala. You would refuse to let go if someone asked.

“Mhmf.” You say, most likely it was supposed to be his name but the sound got muffled against his wide chest.

His heart thumps across his chest at an alarming rate from the pure, sparkling smile that spreads across your cheeks. All he could think about was that he was the cause—him.

He gently lifts you up into his arms. You seem to snuggle into him even closer. “Let’s get you inside, yeah? Es hora de acostarse.” You sweetly mumble against him as a response.

As he carries you through the living room, your drunken eyes took note of the half-eaten tamales and the empty glass of lemon water that sat on the counter.

He sits you down on the counter with your legs tangling above the cabinets. You giddily smiled as his stature found a home between your legs. “Hi, Miggy,” You slur.

His lips couldn’t help but curl into a smile. “Hi, pretty thing.” He picks up the fork and hovers his hand underneath. “You need to eat a little, okay?”

You pout, head swaying just a bit. “Can I get a kiss first?”

He swore that his heart palpitated. It spiked rapidly at the way you blinked up at him with your lips deepening the pout.

“Of course you can, mi corazón.”

He leans in and presses a sweet peck onto your glossy lips. You start to lean back, but not before he gives you another gentle kiss. You squealed in glee. He just couldn’t help himself when you were this adorable.

Once you part, you open your mouth wide. He spoon feeds you small bites of the food and watches you chew each time. There was something about taking care of you that felt so therapeutic to him. Maybe it just reminded him how much he truly loves you.

“Such a good girl.” Your body tingles at the whispers of praise that Miguel sends your way. You can’t help but give him a toothy smile.

“Ready for bed?” You nod, happily, and lift up your arms. His towering shoulders and super-strength arms lift you up into his arms once more.

You could feel your eyes start to droop from the delicious food. The water was sobering you up a little too. “‘M sleepy.”

He presses a kiss to your forehead. “I know, sweet thing. It’ll just be a minute.”

He gently sets you down on the bed. His eyes rake over you as he takes in the way you stumbled less out of his arms. He nods at himself, a needed confirmation that you’re okay and he’s taken good care of you.

He pads off into the closest, causing you to whine. He smiles at your neediness to be around him when you weren’t sober. All you needed was his body to curl around yours while you went into a deep slumber.

He places your pajamas next to you on the bed. You contently watch as he sinks his knees to the ground. He very carefully takes the high heels you wore off of your feet. He then gets up, and places them back on the pretty shelving you made for all of your heels.

Once he comes back into the bedroom, he has to stifle a laugh. You had hiked up half of your dress and were trapped under the confusing layers. You had wanted to help, but got stuck. “Couldn’t have waited for me?” He teases.

“I couldn’t!” You exasperated. You move your body in an attempt to detangle yourself, but find no luck.

You can hear the snickering from your partner, and you huff. He wished he could have Lyla take a picture, but he’s not that evil.

“‘M here, querida. I’ve got you.”

He helps you out of your dress and then helps you into your pajamas. You smile at the soft, silky material. It feels like home.

He walks away into the bathroom and you can see the light illuminate into the bedroom. Just as you were about to let yourself fall into the bedroom, Miguel came back out.

He had a makeup wipe in one hand, and a toothbrush in the other. He takes the wipe and gently starts to rub it against your face. He moves aside just for a second, to place a sweet kiss to your now bare lips, before turning back and rubbing the wipe against your skin once more.

He turns, just for a second, and throws away the wipe into the trashcan. Then, he picks up your toothbrush.

“Open wide, baby.”

You do exactly as he says and he starts to brush your teeth. The two of you are in complete silence, besides the bristles that clean your teeth. You stared at the lovely man in front of you and wondered how you got so lucky. Little did you know, he thought the same thing.

“Okay, amor. We’re all done now.” He gets up from the floor and saunters off into the bathroom. You hear the rush of running water, but you pay no mind as your eyes slip closed.

You hear the flipping of the light switch and the faucet turning back off. “Miguel.” You plead out into the air. You wanted to snuggle into his chest and have his arms wrapped around your form.

“Comin’, querida.” You watch him pull the covers down and then he proceeded to crawl into the bed.

You enveloped him almost immediately and it caused him to softly chuckle. His arms wrap around you entirely and you bury yourself into him.

He softly breathes out, it was something akin to a content sigh.

“Sweet dreams, pretty thing.”

You smiled and pushed your nose into his neck. You slurred just a little. “G’night, handsome.”

#miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara x you #miguel o’hara x y/n #spiderman 2099 x reader #spiderman 2099 x you #miguel o’hara fanfiction #spiderman 2099 fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #across the spiderverse #across the spiderverse fanfiction

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gretavanlace · 4 months

Text

Sugar II (part 7)

Jake Kiszka x reader

18+ only! Minors do not interact!

Warnings: graphic sexual content, language, angst, cheating, choking (barely, and only if you squint) fingering, etc

Hello lovelies! I hope everyone has had a wonderful holiday season and a very merry Christmas (if you celebrate). So sorry for the wait, but I trust you’ll understand…things get so crazy this time of year! Please excuse any mistakes you find, I did some under the weather editing. Xoxo love you all ❤️

True to his word, he was knocking at your metaphorical door the second their brief intermission allowed, and now you find yourself trudging along beside him through a nearly deserted parking lot outside the town cinema that is conveniently attached to the mall.

The mall sees little action these days as it is - throw in the fact that it’s early afternoon smack dab in the middle of the week and you’ve got yourself a recipe for isolation.

Which was exactly the plan all along. It’s a small town, and questions are the last thing you need.

When he’d pulled up in his rental, some luxury sedan with sleek black paint and deeply tinted windows, you couldn’t help the giggle that bubbled out of you. How out of place he looked…he would’ve seemed more at home on a tricycle.

Now, after a hug that felt too intimate in the unforgiving glare of the sun, he holds the door open for you, ushering you inside, ever the gentleman, when his phone begins to hum in his pocket.

“Here,” a credit card, black and heavier than standard plastic, slips into your palm as he nods towards the popcorn and candy, “Go wear it out.”

“Trying to get rid of me, Kiszka?” You tease, leaning in conspiratorially, “Am I your dirty little secret?”

With a roll of his eyes, he shuts you down. “Dirty? Yes. Secret? Not so much.”

He tilts his phone to display Josh’s name trilling across the screen. “You’re welcome to say hello, if you’d like. But I honestly detest the thought of sharing you right now. Sounds torturous.”

Your eyes travel over him like he’s a fucking meal. Linen pants cuffed lazily at the ankles to display scuffed and worn boots. Light blue button up, barely buttoned and hardly hiding the softness of his stomach, which you long to gnash your teeth into. Coins and medallions clink about against his chest, locks curling like ribbons along the shoulders of his midnight onyx blazer…no, on this you two can agree, you’d rather not share him either.

“Don’t let him talk so long that I have to miss you.” You smile with a wink that sizzles the blood in his veins as he watches you make your way over to the concession stand.

In keeping with yet another promise, he stands beside you before the popcorn has even been buttered, ready to follow you into whichever darkened room you’ll be inhabiting together for the next couple of hours.

When you fold into your seats, you find yourselves utterly alone.

A half an hour in, and you’re deeply regretting your choice. Something more PG would have been a lifesaver. You should have opted for something animated, for christ’s sake.

Watching them twist through the sheets, his hands dipped into her waist as she rocks above him in the gorgeous, cinematic lighting would normally have no more than a minute effect on you…especially given how little you’ve paid attention to the actual plot.

But he’s so near. You can feel the warmth of his body heat. You can smell that woodsy hint that lilts through his aura, paired with the ghostly remnants of a cigarette he’d swear he never smoked. If you leaned in just a fraction of an inch, your lips could play against the corner of his jaw. And again, you’re alone, so alone, in the cool darkness of this deserted theater.

Watching them this way with him so close has your heart banging about in the cage of your chest like a bird, stunned and frightened. Intense. Inescapable.

It’s the middle of the afternoon. The sun is beating down upon smoldering asphalt just outside these walls, bathing this town, in which you’ve built a life, in blinding light. Outside, it’s just another Wednesday…but here, with him next to you, quiet and concentrating on the two strangers making love on screen, you could be a thousand miles away. An alternate reality where in which only you walk the earth - Jake’s hand in yours as he strolls along beside you.

“Care to share what you’re thinking so hard about?” His question hushes out, though there is no one else around to hear it, but his eyes remain fixed ahead.

“I’m not thinking about anything.” You bristle gently…he knows you far too well for it to ever feel fair.

“I am.” His head tilts towards yours, but still he watches on. “Would you like it if I shared, instead?”

“Didn’t anyone ever teach you that it’s rude to talk at the movies?” You tease, simply to avoid whatever you know to be coming, “You really are spending too much time with Josh.”

A thought seems to suddenly occur to him, flickering a nearly visible lightbulb above his head. “Do you ever miss the way it used to be? With Josh? Before I came along and fucked everything up?”

His hand, which has been linked loosely with yours since the lights went down, offers a tiny squeeze. A reassurance that whatever the truth is, it will be alright to say it.

“Never.” And that really is the honesty of it all. “I miss the way things were when it was the three of us sometimes…but I think that’s really only because I miss you. I miss him too. But so differently. And I miss Sam and Danny. I miss…” you fall silent, searching for words that won’t come, and finally settle upon, “everything.”

“You don’t have to.” He is still refusing to look at you, though your eyes are heating his cheek with the intensity of your gaze in the dark. “You don’t have to miss anything, anymore. You can come home, baby. You should come home. I want you to come home. I need you to—” his throat catches, and you watch his lips fold in against the vulnerability.

“I am home.” You argue, wishing you could take it back the second you’ve whispered it into existence.

“Why?” Finally, finally, he turns to catch your eye. “Because of him? I’m so sick of hearing about him it isn’t even funny. And not just because I’m jealous - which I most certainly fucking am - but because it’s such bullshit.”

Trying your hardest, you muster a bit of astonished annoyance, though you feel none of it “My life is bullshit?”

His response is matter of fact as he turns his attention back to the couple still feigning ecstasy before you “Yes, it is.”

“That’s real nice, Jake.” Now your irritation feels a bit more concrete. How dare he so nonchalantly sit here in the dark and try to poke holes in what you’ve cultivated in his absence? “What isn’t bullshit, then? Our pretend life that you choose to live inside? Or the one from years ago that you can’t let go of?”

Another squeeze of your hand comes tender and comforting, “I’ll let that slide because I know you don’t mean to be hurtful…and because I know you’re scared.”

“I’m not scared,” you pull away and begin to miss his touch instantly. “I just…I have a fucking life, Jacob. And you seem hell bent on ruining it.”

“Okay,” he nods, turning in to nudge your nose with his own. “Take me home then, Sugar. Parade me through your life. Introduce me to Mr. Wonderful. Show me where you sleep. Where you watch TV with him at night. Where you take your baths, floating in the bubbles until you’re pruny and half-drunk on wine. Show me your backyard. Show me the walls he fucks you up against while you don’t think of me. Show me where you hide away from him at night to whisper sweet things to me…and not so sweet things. Let me meet your cat.”

His mouth is so close to yours you can faintly taste his minty toothpaste, “I don’t have a cat.”

“Alright,” he grins, sly as a snake, cheeks sweeping against yours as they perk with his smile, warm and soft “then just take me home and show me your pussy.”

It’s crass and ridiculous, and you know he’s said it simply to make you laugh…it works.

“So this is it, huh?” He leans forward, peering at your house through the windshield as you coast into the driveway. “No porch. No garden. But I’m going to wager there’s a welcome mat.”

His eyes cut over to you, a wickedly adorable gleam dancing about in them, “There is, isn’t there? How fucking quaint.”

How does he remember that you hate welcome mats? That you find them to be untruthful somehow, because certainly not everyone is welcome…some who find themselves at your doorstep should just go away. And how has he guessed that you do, in fact, have one? That he brought one home not long after you moved in and you hadn’t had the heart to tell him to throw it out?

Once more, you’re reminded of Jake’s uncanny ability to peer inside your head, but you refuse to stoke the fires of his ego. “You promised to behave, Jacob.”

He pops his door open and climbs out with a lazy stretch, “Oh, c’mon pretty girl, don’t tell me you believed that.”

Hand slipping from the steering wheel, you steel yourself with a steadying breath. This was a bad idea. A horrible choice. A disaster gearing up to wreak havoc…but here you are, leading the way with Jake strolling along behind you, taking in the suburban elements of your neighborhood with his hands buried casually in his pockets.

He always looks as though he has nowhere to be and all day to get there. It’s calming. Soothing. Like the invisible hand of a beloved caretaker reminding you that there is time enough to breathe. No reason to rush, it says…that gentle air about him. I don’t mind waiting. Take your time.

As you fit your key into the deadbolt, he resumes his antics, “When will Mr. Wonderful return from sea? Is there a widow’s walk where we might watch for him together on this dreadful day of pining?”

Voice warbling and pitched low, he reaches up and tugs a lock of your hair, goading you like a drunken, English pirate.

“Shut up, Oliver, or I’ll go inside and lock the door behind me.” The hinges squeak open…no turning back now.

“No, you won’t.” He scoffs, laughing lightly at his own nonsense. “Seriously, do I get to size up the competition today?”

You welcome him in, slightly dizzy at the sight of him sauntering inside…you’ve imagined him here so many times. Longed for his penchant for filling up space, fat and full, with his greater than life presence.

He makes you feel small in the most wonderful way; you are bird cupped safe and sound in his palms as he holds you close to his chest, protecting you from the world.

And maybe you should tell him these things…the way he makes you feel. His eyes would turn soft, he might touch your face with his tender fingertips and sigh your name into the room like a wisp of a breeze.

But a glance at the mantel, and the framed picture perched there, sends a tiny rush of guilt surging through your veins and you shake the moment off and instead opt for a stern…

“No, you won’t be sizing anything up today, Jake,” you move about the room to keep his eyes on you rather than in the direction of the mantel. “I’m not sadistic enough to subject him to your gleeful nastiness.”

He laughs like he’s never loved anything more, tipping his head back to expose his gorgeous throat…you yearn to bite it. “Gleeful nastiness? Sugar, you wound me.”

Rather than stride across the room to sink your teeth into him, you cross your arms, disgruntled and annoyed. “You’d have way too much fun being an asshole, and he’d be far too nice to put you in your place.”

That darkens his eyes, and you almost regret it. Almost. “Put me in my place? Are you choosing sides, sweetheart? Because it sounds an awful lot like you are.”

“Maybe I am.”

He’s moving toward you now, and you should back away, you know you should. Instead, your feet shuffle forward.

“Pretend your heart lies with him all you want,” he sweeps his lips over the apple of your cheek, “but I know better, and so do you.”

“Kiss me.” You bite your lip against the plea a second too late.

Those warm eyes of his, like coffee stirred with a splash of cream, flick down at your mouth and back to meet your gaze, and then his answer comes simply and with finality, “No.”

“No?” You’re incredulous, and admittedly stung by his rejection.

“No.” He reiterates, stepping away from you as your hands drop uselessly from his shoulders to your sides. “Take me on the tour, pretty girl. Show me this wonderful life of yours. I simply cannot wait.”

The “tour” he was so eager for is winding down as you steer him down the hall hurriedly, hoping he’ll ignore the door that is cracked and streaming light into the hallway.

Of course, he doesn’t. “What’s the rush, baby?” He smiles, feigning confusion, “What prize hides behind this one? Is this your bedroom?”

Suddenly, there is no space left between your bodies, and his is radiating a possessive heat as he backs you up into the room, guiding you along with a sure and steady arm wrapped around your waist.

“Is this where Mr. Wonderful fucks my girl?”

“Jake,” you’re protesting, but your fingers have curled into his shirt, thumb toying with one of the buttons that has likely never known what it’s like to be fastened. “Stop talking about it.”

He tilts his head in mock confusion, “Why? You like sex, I like sex, let’s talk about it, yeah? Oh, this is it right here, isn’t it? Look at this great big beautiful bed. Did you make it yourself this morning? Are the sheets clean?”

His mouth is at your throat now, licking and sucking between his terrible taunting questions. “If I laid you down right now, would I smell you on them? Would I smell him?”

“Jake, shut up,” you snap, but you’re pulling his lips in closer, hands fisting loosely in his hair.

You expect him to toss you down on the bed. To crawl on top of you. To grab you. To fuck you. To own you on the bed in some misguided show of territorial dominance.

And you expect to let him.

You expect to fight to be on top so that his hair will rest upon your pillow…so tonight you might drift away into a peaceful slumber gifted by the scent of him blurring your senses.

Instead, you find yourself pressed up against the wall, “I won’t have you in that fucking bed, even though I could, if I felt so inclined. I can tell you want it.” He sizes you up while grinding his cock into you with a delicious rhythm that’s got your breath panting out in tiny puffs already. “You do, don’t you, baby? You want me to fuck you in that bed. You want me all over the sheets he sleeps in.”

You’re ashamed, so fucking ashamed…but it’s true.

He’ll go, and you’ll miss him so terribly, and in some sick and horrifically twisted way you want him to spill on to the sheets, to leave his fingerprints on every surface. To lick across the bathroom mirror. To use your hairbrush so that there might be a strand or two of his silken waves left behind. You want him to drink from the milk carton and lounge about on the furniture. To lose the remote between the couch cushions. To tilt all the pictures uneven with his careless touch. You want him everywhere…to leave behind tiny remnants of himself once he’s gone, little pieces to ease your aching heart.

“Tell me, sugar.” He fucks himself against you with quick rolls of his hips until you’re praying his name. “Tell me the truth, baby. Tell me where you want me to give you my cock. I’m so hard for you, sweetheart.”

“In our bed,” it’s a rush of desperation as you clutch at him, dragging him closer to you…but it still isn’t enough, you wish you could crawl inside him. “Fuck me in our bed. Make me cum in our bad. Make me say your name in our bed. Please, jakey, please,”

Ignoring your disgraceful display, he continues to rock into you, gasping into the crook of your neck while his breathless moans tickle their way into your ear, “Does he make you cum in that bed? Does he take care of your pretty cunt the way I do? Does he make you shake and beg for terrible things? Hmm? Are you a good girl for him in that bed? Look at it.”

You shake your head back and forth against the wall, thrusting wildly to meet him. He’s right, he’s so fucking hard.

His palm wraps around your throat, squeezing at the sides, directing your line of sight. “I said fucking look at it. I want your eyes on that bed when I make you cum. I’m gonna make it mine without laying a goddamn finger on it. My bed, and my girl with her pretty wet pussy that belongs to me.”

“Inside,” it’s a rasping, shaking plea, and it should embarrass you and cast your eyes downward in shame…but it doesn’t. You’ve always wanted him this badly, and he knows it as inherently as he remembers the walls of his childhood home. “I need you inside, need your cock.”

��That’s it, fuck doll…” there is a filthy smirk evident in his tone, though his face is once again buried against your neck, “Beg for my cock. Tell me how badly you need it. Ask real sweet, sugar…be my very good girl.”

Your bodies writhe together feverishly until you feel like you might catch fire and burn away into ashes that will singe against his tongue like scorching want “Please, Jakey…please. I think about you all the time. I can’t clear my head, it’s always so full of you. Fuck me, fuck me, please please please…”

A painfully ragged groan rumbles out of him as his mouth, eager and starved, sucks against your throat, “Not gonna fuck you here. Not in this room where you let him touch you, not in this house where you let him love you.”

“Outside,” your teeth clench around the word until your jaw is screaming as loudly as the ache between your legs. “Take me out back, fuck me there…”

At last, his face, so beautifully flushed and dew-kissed, emerges from the crook of your neck, “You want me to take you outside and slide you onto my cock all wet and pretty? Want to let your neighbors hear what a whore you are for me? Let them hear how wet I make your gorgeous cunt? Hmm? Let them hear you whine my fucking name?”

“I don’t care what they hear…” you’re nearly mewling with need, clawing at his shoulders, clutching at his shirt, nearing your end, but so desperate to run from it because you want so much more. You don’t want this to be over without him slipped inside you, hard and hot.

“Look at me.” The insistence in his tone leaves no room for argument and your eyes flutter open to lock in on his.

A breathy, “You’re so beautiful,” trips off your tongue - a reflex that couldn’t be helped if you tried. He’s an evil, diabolical doctor banging a tiny hammer just below your knee cap.

A slow, languid blink is the only indication he gives that he’s even heard you. “You know my face, sugar?”

It’s the most absurd question that has ever been asked of you. Of course you know his face. Sometimes, it seems like you know nothing but his face.

Those sleepy eyes, that seem to see more than anyone has ever seen, down the deep and winding halls within you. His plush lips, full and pink, cruelly perfect, with a Cupid’s bow to rival the angel’s even if you stacked them all together. Rounded tip of his nose, different now, but still constantly luring your kiss. His jaw, so strong at times, so soft at others, but always begging for your tongue to trail along its path…his brow, his eyelashes, the way locks of hair display it all like a gilded edged frame adorning a wall in some ancient, European museum.

Yes, you know his face. You will always know his face. He is true north on your compass. He is the only direction in which your heart will ever willingly travel.

You nod, not trusting yourself to speak even as your hips rock against him.

“Good girl,” he presses the softest kiss to your mouth, “I want your eyes on that bed when you cum, but I want my face in your heart, and my name on your pretty pink tongue. We’re gonna fucking erase him, aren’t we?”

Suddenly, you wonder who he means? Does he mean this new rival, who really isn’t his rival at all? Or does he mean Josh, even after all this time? Does he even know which? Do you?

“No, baby…” your voice is but a whimper, and it tugs a growl out of his lungs that makes you weaker still, “I don’t want to cum like this. I need you inside of me. Make me feel good, Jakey…make me whole.”

“Not here,” he shakes his head sternly and you shrink away from his scolding, head resting against the cool wall. “Never here. Not in this house. I hate this fucking house. I want to burn it down and salt the goddamn earth.”

“Give me more,” your fingers are tearing and pulling at him frantically. You need so much from him always, you need his everything.

“I’ll give you more,” his voice sounds feral, grinding and growling like sandpaper…like he is lost and stumbling along far away from himself, as he jerks you away from the wall and slams you up onto your vanity.

Tiny bottles and tubes tumble and spill to the floor, but rather than care, you reach back and blindly sweep the rest away to make room for whatever is about to happen.

“I’ll give you fucking more,” he bites into your throat as though he wants to swallow you down and carry you around inside him. “I’ll give you fucking anything if you’ll just let me. Let me, sugar…fuck, please baby.”

“Just…” you can’t finish your thought…can’t find your mental footing while vibrating with such desperation, so you don’t even try. Instead, you begin fumbling with his belt, but he shoves your hands away.

“I told you,” he grabs hold of your face, a firm yet shaking hand tight around your chin, “Not here. Stop.”

On your fingers march, fighting with leather and metal until his voice, soft and mournful now, guides you out of the haze, “Not here, sugar. Not here.”

Everything slows in a blink, as if fate has adjusted the playback speed, and you find yourself watching with bated, yet quieting breaths as he pops the button on your jeans and lowers the zipper, eyes on your face all the while.

He slips his fingers in slowly, carefully…you are precious and deserving of his care, and he wants you to have it.

“Lean back,” he soothes, the heel of his palm grinding softly against your clit, “Let me take care of my girl.”

You’re prepared to whine and barter, but he shakes his head the moment your lips part.

“Shh, settle down, sweetheart. I’ve got you,” free hand now petting at your face, he offers you the gentlest smile. “You’re so wet, sugar. So warm.”

“Jake,” you’re rocking up to meet him now, slipping into the breathtaking haze of bliss he saves just for you.

“What, pretty girl?” God, the way he’s speaking to you…each word dripping with adoration and awe. Drenched in lust. Positively soaked in love. “Does it feel good?”

“So good,” your eyes are drifting closed now as you wade deeper into the tepid pool of your Jakey. You want to stay forever, to sink into his swirling blue waters until you’re forced to suck him into your lungs and drown.

“Eyes open.” The demand is soft and delicate, like lace drawn across your flushed skin.

You recall his earlier instruction and cast your heated stare at the bed you share with a man you could never exist for the way you live and breathe for Jake, but he shakes his head, “I was wrong…I don’t want that. Look at me, sugar. Right here, look at me.”

How could you ever want to look at anything else? Your gaze locks with his, and in reward, he curls his searching fingers and drags a high pitched moan off the tip of your tongue.

“Good girl, baby…” he nods, dropping his forehead to meet yours “So pretty. Silky little pussy wrapped up snug and tight around me like she never wants me to leave.”

“Don’t,” you’re writhing and grabbing at him now, crawling closer and closer to the edge, “Don’t leave me, Jake.”

His hand trails down from your face to cover your heart, “Is that coming from here, too?”

Watching him like this, your chest feels like it could easily cave in…like it could crumple in on itself - a balled up scrap of cheap aluminum foil crushed inside a fist. He is a sonnet come to life. A haunting song, living and breathing, watching you like you are love incarnate.

Of course it’s coming from your heart. It’s coming from your soul…or perhaps from the soul the two of you sometimes seem to share.

“I don’t know why I keep fighting this,” strangely, tears are burning in your eyes as the white hot band of pleasure stretches tighter still in your belly, “You’re all I want. You’re all I’ve ever fucking wanted,”

Satisfied, the air sighs out of his lungs as his fingers crook just perfectly and unravel you with a jolt. It is such a lazy, undulating ribbon of pleasure, unwinding through your veins like slow heat as you gasp and hush his name.

“Just like that, baby,” he coaxes, sounding far away. “Nice and slow…just like that. Shh, I’m right here. I’ve got you, sugar, I’ve got you.”

Your eyes never stray from his, even when the intensity you find in them threatens to crack your chest wide open, and when you finally come down, that’s how you both stay for so long you can almost believe the rest of the world has fallen away.

When his fingers twitch and you shiver with overstimulation, it breaks the spell and he pulls back… reluctantly sliding slowly from the cashmere grip of your cunt, only to suck those two fingers into his mouth with a muted groan of content.

“Pack a bag, sugar…” his hands cup your cheeks, fingers slick against your face as his nose tips up to meet yours, “Or don’t. We’ll go shopping and I’ll buy you anything and everything you’ve ever needed. Whatever you want, pretty girl…it’s yours.”

“I—“ you can’t seem to think straight.

“C’mon, sweetheart,” he’s teasing now, with a barely there smirk taunting his lips, “Let me steal you away and take you home where you belong. I’ll write pretty songs for you, and make love to you every morning until the sun is so envious of us it resents having to rise. Let me build you a house. Let me till a garden for my girl.”

At last, you find your voice, “I have to do this the right way, Jake. His heart deserves care. I don’t want to hurt him any more than I have to. I’m the bad guy, here.”

“No,” that soft, hidden away smile of his clutches at your heart. “I think I’m the bad guy here. I just can’t find a shit to give.”

You’ve righted your disheveled selves and are now attempting to right all the other wrongs, with you stretched out on the rug watching as Jake picks up the tiny bottles and jars that litter the floor, asking after each one…

“Highlighter? What the hell does this do? Are you a book report?” And “How many lip glosses do you even need, sugar? You only have two lips.”

…before carefully placing said product back on the vanity - when, way ahead of schedule, the garage door rumbles to life.

Your heart lurches painfully in your chest, but on his end, Jake’s eyes light up with menacing delight, “Well, what do you know, babe? It seems our dear captain has returned.”

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