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madelynraemunson · 12 days

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— along for the ride ☆

🐃 the tag team (co-writers): @joshlmbrt @swiss-mrs @mediocredreams 🩶

eddie x fem!reader

a/n: reading flight of icarus and finding out eddie is from tennessee REALLY husked my corn 🤠 also, this may or may not have been inspired by the bull fight scene in hoard

cw: daydream p in v sex, riding, eddie gets a hard on watching reader ride, innuendos, play on words

Stamina. Strength. Strategy. Safety. The Four Important S’s when it comes to bull-riding.

‘Support’ is your unofficial fifth. You’ve generated quite the following after showcasing your riding skills at Whisky Jim’s every Saturday night, the ooohs and aaahs of your spectators filling the air as the spotlight drenches your cute… calculated… perspiring body.

Bull-riding at the dive bar every weekend has become a favorite hobby of yours. It’s a perfect outlet for all the stress, the rough-and-tough of it all perfectly counterbalancing your slow-as-snails, but somehow busy and draining 9 to 5. Riding gave you something to look forward to.

“Look at her go,” an onlooker coos in admiration. “She’s got life by the goddamn horns.”

You toss your head back, glossy lips parted in excitement as the crowd’s appreciative hoots and whistles filled the air. You could get used to this. You have gotten used to this.

Even with the world at your feet, things were starting to get boring again. And you are constantly craving something wild, something new. Something or someone that will make like the bull by sweeping you off your feet and taking you out for a spin.

Someone like Eddie Munson, perhaps.

Eddie isn’t sure what drew him… here out of all places. But something about the rowdiness compels him as he climbs out of his van, Halen and into the bar, boots scuffing the hard wooden floor. But the flight-risk metalhead is determined to find out, itching for adventure as he saunters with feigned confidence into the southern saloon.

He flags down the closest bartender, a country heartthrob of a man with black hair and blue eyes. The Casanaova places a coaster down in front of him as Eddie steps up to the plate. “What’ll ya be havin’?”

“Anything local,” Eddie replies, more of a question, unsure of what exactly is available. “Anything hoppy.”

“Bottle or Tap?” the man follows up after a curt nod, mindlessly running a hand over his thick mustache.

“Tap. Pint, please.”

The bartender gives another nod before disappearing to fulfill Eddie’s request. Meanwhile, the outcast takes this short window of time to look up and down the bar at the different patrons.

All from different walks of life. But all here for presumably the same reason.Whisky Jim’s is decently packed, but for the most part, the crowd is congregated either in booths, at tables, or in the middle of the floor.

A glass is placed onto the coaster. The same deep country twang effectively regains Eddie’s attention.

“Wanna start a tab, brother?” The older man asks with a polite grin, eyes crinkling up at the sides as he does.

Eddie offers a polite smile in return.

“Uh, sure. Thanks.”

The bartender studies him intently this time, crossing his arms over his broad chest.

“First timer?”

Eddie clears his throat uneasily, kicking at the peanut casings at his feet to avoid contact with the John Wayne of a man that was in front of him.

“Obvious?”

The man cackles at Eddie, the slight patronization of the old-timer’s demeanor making him want to evaporate. But the amused blue eyes and downturned smile indicates it’s all in good fun, much like his uncle Wayne who always liked giving him a hard time whenever he made himself too small.

“Son, you couldn’t stick out further if you were a dog’s balls.”

A fellow bartender laughs at the man’s remark. Then Eddie joins in. It was pretty funny.

“You just don’t really look like the kind to be into square dancin’, is all,” the bartender remarks as he narrows his eyes at Eddie. Eddie shrugs and takes a sip of his beer, slightly wincing as the first sip hits him.

“Well, you’re not wrong. Just thought I’d explore a bit outside of my usual.”

“What’s your name, kid?”

“Eddie.”

“Greg.” The bartender gives him his hand to shake. “You from around here or you comin’ from outta town?”

“Hawkins.”

“Not too far from home then. And it seems you came on a good night.”

And as if on cue, the crowd towards the middle of the building erupts in cheers. Eddie briefly glances over his shoulder in the general direction before turning back to Greg with a curious head tilt.

“What’s happening?”

Greg nods his head over in the direction of the crowd.

“Bull Ridin’ Night.”

Your thighs are wrapped around the firm leather seat as you’re whisked around in one fluid motion. You turn to give your rapt audience a wink. The crowd eats up your presence, evident by the adorn kisses they blow your way. You buy into the theatrics, pretending to catch them before putting them in your back pocket for later. It only riles the audience up more.

“They bring that thing out on Saturdays,” Greg explains. “Between the Karaoke Nights and the Hoedowns, Bull Ridin’ is one of the most popular.”

Eddie tries another glance in that direction, but due to the crowd, he doesn’t have the best view of who is actually riding.

“You gon’ give it a try?”

Eddie’s head whips back around to the older man to find a teasing smirk on his face. Eddie shakes his head.

“I… don’t think so.” He chuckles. “I’m not the most balanced or coordinated person.” He admits that with a grimace and another sip of his Hawkins Pale Ale.

“I’m just teasin’ ya, boy. HEY!” Greg whistles at the bartender next to him. “Who’s up there now?”

The coworker throws a quick glance over their shoulder before replying. There’s a bashful smirk when they reply,

“Who do you think?”

The crowd erupts again, cheers and whistles alike. Who else gets this kind of crowd engagement? No one else other than you, of course.

“Looks like my girl is up there breakin’ hearts again.” Greg lets out a soft laugh.

Eddie gulps as his breathing shallows. A girl? Up there? On that thing?

Eddie, once again, nearly strains his neck trying to get a glimpse of the rider. When he fails, Eddie turns back to the bar, downing the final quarter of his pint, before looking back at Greg.

“Fetch me a bottle for the road, yeah?”

Greg issues him a chuckle, grabbing the empty glass and handing him a bottle version of that very ale, while Eddie sets off on his curiosity journey to the middle of the floor.

“Boys will be boys.” Greg’s female coworker remarks with sassy pursed lips.

Eddie closes in on the crowd, slipping through the few empty spaces between the onlookers with half-assed ‘Excuse me’s. Though no one was paying him any mind. And when he settles by the barrier, just a mere two rows behind, he finally gets the perfect view of you.

Eddie couldn’t fight the grin that spread across his face at the sight of you working the crowd. He watches as you give a practiced flick of your hips to get the crowd going and the enticing jiggle of your breasts under your tight shirt. Drew in Eddie’s eyes like a laser beam. The thin material was stretched taut, giving a hint of the perfect tits underneath as you arched your lower back and thrust your chest forward to keep your balance.

“Christ,” he exhales sharply, in awe of your natural performance, the boisterous, unpredictable gravity of the machine whirling you around as you wrestle to hold on.

His eyes drink in the sight of the soft, rounded curve of your ass that peeked out of the bottom of your faded Daisy Duke’s as you lean forward to steady yourself in the saddle.

WHOOSH!

The bull jerks sideways and you flex your thighs and circle your hips in the saddle to keep yourself astride. The plush skin of your upper thighs press tightly against the seat and your upper body sways in rhythm with the bull’s movement.

You were born to ride.

“That’s how you do it, Indiana!” a spectator hoots in adoration as you cling on for dear life. “That’s how you do it!”

You give a deep roll of your hips to meet the thrust of the machine, causing Eddie to run the tip of his tongue along his bottom lip before sucking in a shaky breath. Your hips… the way they roll… is almost hypnotic, and Eddie’s brown doe eyes can’t help but linger on the sliver of skin that peeks out, black, intricate swirls of cyber-sigilism that tease him slightly.

Fuck.

“God, she’s so pretty…” he thinks to himself. “And she knows how to ride.”

Eddie’s eyes trail to the white of your knuckles, his own fingers gripping the bottle of his beer when his eyes slide up your arm and land on your face.

The front of his pants start to feel uncomfortably tight. Eddie adjusts himself as discreetly as he could, but even the soft brush of his fingers against the strained denim causes him to hiss under his breath.

“Ride it, cowgirl!” an audience’s comment centers Eddie once again. “LET ‘EM KNOW!”

The way you matched the bull’s gyrations and anticipated its every move made him weak in the knees, and as he watched you swirl your hips in the saddle like a modern day Annie Oakley he couldn’t help but wish it was him straddled between your shapely thighs instead.

As Eddie stood there watching, the dull roar of the crowd faded into the background. At that moment it was just you and him.

In his mind he’s already lassoed you to his bed; and you’re sat astride him like a cowgirl in your saddle, hands splayed on his chest for balance as you lowered yourself onto his throbbing cock. And you’d bite down on your plush lower lip and let out a soft moan as you sank down onto him slowly, taking your time and adjusting to his size.

“Oh, Eddie,” he could almost hear you purring. “It’s so big.”

And he’d chuckle with false modesty and rub a hand tenderly along your thigh as if to soothe the delicious stretch of his thick girth.Then once you adjusted, you’d move, meeting each unpredictable roll of his hips with your own as you mastered the rhythm of your very own long-haired bucking bronco.

And he’d be gripping you tight with each deep thrust, pistoning, plowing himself into you while watching his cock disappear into your slick pussy over and over with each forceful snap of his hips. And with every strained mewl he milks out of you he’d press you down by the hips and drill into you further, your weak cunt just about ready to tap out on top of him. This handsome bull’s sure a challenge, you’d be thinking to yourself. Eddie is a ride you wouldn’t be able to survive.

———

The crowd disperses when the show is over. Eddie stands a bit straighter when you finally leave the middle of the floor, eyes darting towards the plush smirk that your soft lips create. If it’s even possible, he thinks you look even more heavenly. He’s sure you don’t even realize what you’re doing to him.

Little does he know that for you, he’s taken that same effect. You’ve grown so accustomed to everyone here that a new face has captured your attention. And you felt him staring at you, with a gaze so impassioned that you just about almost lost your footing up there. But you pulled it off real well, attempting to shake off the redirection in the form of a dramatic bounce of your tits.

It perplexes you. A man making you that nervous? Up until late, it’s become rather unheard of. You want to know this man and see for yourself what his energy is all about.

Eddie finds himself fixing his appearance when he notices your legs striding over, clearing his throat as his palm slides over the stubble that he had been trying to grow.

“You know it’s kinda rude to stare the way that you do,” you remark.

“How so?” Eddie challenges. “Everyone else is doing it. What makes me different from everybody?”

“That’s what I’m trying to find out,” you smile at him.

Eddie shifts his weight onto the counter, bringing the bottle up to his lips, taking another gulp. His eyes dart everywhere -- the metal buckle of your belt, the skin that was shiny with dried sweat, your hands that tap at the sticky countertop of the bar, the way your lips wrap around the tip of your bottle and the liquid that slips out and down your chin that he greedily wanted to tongue away.

“Funny,” you observe. “I’m here every Saturday and I’ve never once seen your face.”

He thinks he’s looking over at an angel, really, heart beating faster when he realizes it’s him that you’d made an effort to come up to. Made an effort to get to know.

“Interesting that you saw me.”

“I see everything from up there. And you’re a newcomer, I can tell. Sticking out like a sore thumb in the best way.”

You invite him into your energy, closing up the distance between the two of you with a graceful stride in his direction.

“You were amazing,” Eddie says to you. “Really know how to put on a show, cowgirl.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Eddie insists. “Spotlight loves you. Killer crowd engagement as well.”

“You a performer too?”

“Depends who’s asking.”

“Mmm, I don’t know…” you sigh dreamily. “Just a fellow performer lookin’ for some tips and pointers.”

Not much needs to be said to know that you two ache for each other, judging by how the intimate dive bar grows non-existent for as long as you two are captured in the forcefield of each other. Eddie thinks that there would be absolutely nothing better than giving you some pointers, his hand leaving the bottle, some of the liquid sloshing around the precipitating glass, heart pounding in his ears as he nods quickly. One rowdy night wouldn’t hurt anybody, he thinks to himself. And it’s very apparent that, the stunner that is you, wants take him for a spin.

“So what do you say, cowboy?” you cock an eyebrow at him. “Why don’t we ride off into the sunset, just you and me?”

dividers by: @animatedglittergraphics-n-more @saradika @mikeykuns

#eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson headcannon #eddie munson one shot #eddie munson x reader #country!eddie munson #eddie munson imagine #stranger things #stranger things 4

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holllandtrash · 1 year

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last call | max verstappen

pairing: max verstappen x reader

a one shot based on the song last call by jamie miller, i highly suggest listening to it 'Cause when it's last call I wanna be your first call I wanna be your ride home You're gonna be my downfall

word count: 7.4k tags/warnings: soft and sweet, alcohol consumption

Max Verstappen was a lot of things.

He was a world champion, for starters. A two-time world champion, a title he carried proudly. He was on his way to claim that title for the third time, but he didn’t let the arrogance or the ease of it get to his head, there was still work to do this season.

He was a son and a brother. He cared about his family more than the media would ever know, always painting him as some sort of villain on and off the track to which it got to the point that Max simply stopped trying to change people’s opinions. His family knew who he was, he didn’t need to make any adjustments for them.

He was a friend, and a damn good one if he said so himself. To be fair, it was difficult to see the mates he grew up with when his job took him around the world and back, but he never forgot his roots. He cherished any time he got to spend with those in his close circle. He had a rule too, no phones. If he was with his friends, nothing on his phone mattered. That was also why he was deemed ‘antisocial’ during any breaks, however long. God forbid he not take any photos of him having a good time to prove he knows how to have a good time.

Last but most certainly not least, on Friday and Saturday nights in Monaco, he was a chauffeur.

Your chauffeur.

Neither of you were quite sure when this whole arrangement started, but did that really even matter?

Max pulled up alongside the curb of the club and sent you a text. A minute later you came walking out the doors, a grin plastered on your face as you said your goodbyes to your friends.

As you walked around the front of the car, Max tried to not let his gaze linger on the way your skirt showcased the length of your legs and how in a matter of a seconds you’d be sitting next to him and he’d be thanking his lucky stars he drove a manual so he had a reason to keep his hand off of you.

You climbed into the passenger side of his car, the seat was already adjusted to your height. There was an unopened bottle of water in the cup holder. An artist you listened to was already quietly playing through the speakers. Even if Max didn’t get a heads up that you were going out tonight, he knew what to do when you called him.

He knew that if the seat was pushed back you would complain, jokingly. He knew that you’d ask if he had water somewhere in his car and he knew that you’d ask for help to connect your phone to Bluetooth, if it hadn’t already died.

And while Max liked that routine, he also liked seeing your face light up when you realised you no longer needed to ask for anything.

“Hi,” you turned in your chair to face him. You were smiling, but you had been smiling all night. Did you mean any of them in the last few hours? The answer was unknown, but you certainly meant it now. You took one look at Max and you couldn’t help but smile, it was your body’s natural reaction, just like how you turned to face him as soon as you sat down.

“Fun night?” He asked. He always asked that, but you both knew he didn’t care about what you got up to inside the walls of the nightclub. If he cared, he would have joined you the number of times you politely asked him to when you saw him in passing when you left the flat. But Max just wasn’t a nightclub kind of person.

“Yeah,” you sighed, running your fingers through your hair. “Yeah, Rina’s a bit of a handful, but it was fun.”

“You stayed out late,” Max pointed out, but not in a type of way you would expect a parent to discipline their kid. It was simply Max calling attention to the time, the same time as always.

This was a habit you had fallen into, unintentionally.

Wherever you were, whatever establishment, when their bartenders yelled for last call, you pulled out your phone and called Max. The call for the last round of drinks was your reminder that you needed to go home and luckily, there was someone who would pick you up, every time, without fail.

It was convenient that you two lived in the same building. It may have been in passing that Max offered for you to ever call him if you needed something, but neither of you expected it to spiral into this.

He was just being friendly. It was the neighbourly thing to do.

Which is why you were hesitant the first time you called Max when you needed a ride home. But all of your friends had left you, you lost your credit card somewhere on the dance floor and in your state of mind, you were in no position to try and walk the streets of Monte Carlo alone.

So you called him, apologising about a dozen times but through the line you heard him get up from bed with a quiet sigh. You heard the jingle of keys and it wasn’t long before you finally heard Max’s car roar to life and he told you he’d be there in ten minutes.

That pattern of sounds became music to your ears before you knew it. The faint grunt as he stood up, the keys twirling around his finger, his car turning on.

Breath, keys, car. It was clockwork. It was something you pretty much expected at this point when you called him.

And Max, well Max knew it was pointless to even lay down, but he did on the off chance you didn’t go out. You always went out.

Max had a good heart. He wanted his friends to be safe and somehow, you had wormed your way into that layer of his life. You were one of his friends. And he would rather you call him every Friday night than have to wake up in the morning and not know if you got home at all.

It was convenient that he was home for the break. He was in Monaco. He could be there for you when you needed him, and he would be.

But that pegged the question, what did you do when he was away? When he was racing? When he was across the globe fighting for championship points, who did you call to pick you up at the end of the night?

Max never asked. In fact, the topic of his job never came up with you. You knew he was a Formula 1 driver, he mentioned it subtly, well he thought it was subtle, it really wasn't. And when you said “Oh yeah, my dad watches that. He likes Josef Newgarden,” Max bit his tongue so as to not tell you that your dad was referring to an IndyCar driver, a completely different series.

You knew very little about the sport. Even with Monaco being the pinnacle track of Formula 1, you never bothered to learn about it or keep up with it. Maybe that’s why Max found it so easy to talk to you in the first place. You never once saw him as a driver. You just saw him as your neighbour and on some nights, your chauffeur.

So one could imagine his surprise when you brought up his career during that drive home.

“When do you go back?” You asked, slight hesitancy in your tone as this was not a topic you knew well, your vocabulary was limited. “To racing?”

“Two weeks,” Max answered. “It’ll be my home race.”

He pulled up to a red light and glanced at you, instantly recognising that the term home race was not one you were familiar with, but you nodded as though you did.

“It’s in the Netherlands,” he further clarified. Your mouth formed an ‘o’ shape as you were reminded that he was Dutch.

“That’ll be fun,” you added.

Why was this awkward? Neither of you were usually ones for small talk. Usually you would get in the car and talk about the characters you saw that you knew he’d get a laugh at. You would be chatting his ear off, that was part of the routine.

And tonight, you were struggling to fill the silence. Max couldn’t tell why.

You knew why, however.

It was because when you were out tonight, your friend Rina was whisked away by someone who asked to dance with her. She blushed, her cheeks and neck turning bright red before saying yes and taking his hand to lead her towards the dance floor.

You watched with amusement, happy for your friend, but there was that sinking feeling of jealousy settling in the pit of your stomach. Granted, the man she was dancing with was not your type. He was tall, too tall, with dark features, an arm of tattoos. Sure he seemed charming and he certainly knew how to dance, but you weren’t jealous he had chosen Rina instead of you.

You were jealous that your friend had someone to dance with.

And you had been asked a few times by strangers to join them under the lights, but you turned down all of them. They weren’t people you wanted to spend your time with. They didn’t give you butterflies when you thought about the potential of starting something new with a stranger from the club.

No, you got those butterflies when you climbed into the passenger seat of Max’s car. They were faint, they came as fast as they went. They could have been mistaken for nausea if you weren’t certain you only had two drinks tonight.

But they were there.

Which led to your next thought, if Max ever asked you to dance, you’d say yes in a heartbeat.

And you had been attracted to Max since the first day you saw him, basically, but you kept those feelings to yourself, even as they grew from a physical attraction to more.

Recently, however, they had been getting harder and harder to ignore.

So maybe that’s why you were struggling to move past this silence right now. You were suddenly looking at Max in a very different light. He was your friend, yes, but he had proven time and time again that he would show up for you, that he wouldn’t hesitate to pick you up no matter that hour. None of your other friends made that commitment to you.

But you would never act on any of it. The thoughts, the feelings. Max had never once hinted that he was interested, he was just nice. He was wholesome, despite what you had heard in the media. He was just looking out for you.

So when he walked you to the door of your flat that evening, you said goodnight like you usually did and you headed inside.

You had no idea that Max lingered in the hallway for a minute, debating with himself whether or not he should knock on your door. He’d done it before, making up some excuse to talk to you for just another few minutes.

Because the truth was, Max enjoyed the time he spent with you, even if it was limited to those car rides from the club to your apartment complex. He liked not knowing which version of you would climb into the passenger seat. While you were almost always talkative, there were times when all you wanted was a coffee at an ungodly hour. There were times when you were complaining about the people you met. There were times when you couldn’t stop laughing to the point that Max had to pull over because your laughter was angelic and contagious and he wasn’t about to risk getting into an accident because the two of you couldn’t contain yourselves.

Max liked the fact that you always called him at the end of the night.

For some weird reason, he liked that you were thinking of him. It made him so unbelievably happy to know that when the bartender yelled for ‘last call’ at the end of the night, he was your first call.

But those phone calls were only ever restricted to Friday and Saturday nights. And only when he was in Monaco. While you didn’t understand Formula 1, you must have followed it a bit to know when he wasn’t home. You never called him during a race weekend.

Except that one night last year when he was in Austin. It was just after 2am in Monaco, but Max was sitting down and having dinner in his hotel room. For you, it was early Sunday morning. For him it was still Saturday.

And it was because you didn’t recognise the pattern, you didn’t hear the breath, the keys, the car, you instantly knew that this was a weekend where he was away. He was working, racing, whatever he wanted to call it.

“Oh fuck,” you blurted out before Max could say anything. Your exclamation was met with a hefty laugh. He wasn’t annoyed in any means that you had called him while he was away, just a bit surprised is all.

“I can order you an uber,” He instantly offered. You heard the sound of him shifting on the bed and his voice then echoed as it bounced off the walls of his hotel room, like he turned on the speakerphone, like he was already looking for the app to order you an uber from halfway across the world.

“I can do that myself,” you argued.

The line was silent for a moment. You were both thinking the same thing. Why didn’t you just always call an uber? Why did you always rely on Max to drive you home?

Neither of you voiced that question. You had your own answers, but if they didn’t match up then that would lead to an entirely different conversation, one that you could do without, one that had the risk of ruining whatever sort of pattern you had fallen into.

“You okay? Did you have a fun night?” Max moved on, not wanting to think about how you were probably ordering that car for yourself. If he was in Monaco right now, he’d already be in the elevator down to the parking garage.

“Yeah, it was good,” your words slurred together. Not enough to alarm Max, but he knew you. He knew that the more you drank, the more honest you were.

You proved that point about two seconds later.

“Honestly, Jordan’s just fucking annoying,” you sighed. Max could picture you running your hands through your hair, you did that often, but especially when something was eating at you and right now, it was your friend Rina’s boyfriend. Boyfriend? Boy toy? Ex? Max tried to keep up, but there was a new label every week. It’d be easier to stay up to date with your life and the ‘drama’ that circled it if you saw him more than once or twice a weekend, but he wasn’t about to put that thought in your head and potentially scare you off. What you had was fine. The late night calls, the last calls turned first calls was fine.

“What happened now?” Max asked.

“Well we literally told him not to come out, Rina’s still pissed after what he did last week- oh shit, hang on.”

While you searched for what Max could only assume was a credit card or your lip gloss or something that should have fallen out of your pockets by now, he thought back to what Jordan did last week.

You sighed heavily into the receiver, “...what was I saying?”

“Rina’s still mad,” Max reminded you. “She hasn’t forgiven him for getting drunk at her parents anniversary dinner?”

You laughed, “God you have a better memory than me. I had to ask Rina why we were giving him the cold shoulder tonight.”

Point for Max.

Why did this little victory mean so much to him?

“Anyway, he tried to make it up to her tonight by buying all of her drinks but then his card declined like an hour in, who lives in fucking Monte Carlo and can’t afford drinks? He’s a fake, is what he is and Rina deserves so much better. I have a theory he’s-”

“That he's from Nice,” Max finished with his own chuckle. “Want me to hire a P.I. to look into it?”

There was a pause and then a very serious, “Can you actually do that?”

“I could but I was joking,” Max said. He could picture your pouty bottom lip. It was a good thing you weren’t actually with him. He probably would have given in and found a private investigator within an hour.

“Oh I think my uber- yeah that’s it,” you said, more to yourself than to him as your voice trailed off at the end. “I’m sorry for calling. I knew you were in Austin, I just- I forgot. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologise,” Max told you. “You don’t ever need to apologise for calling me. You know that if I was home I’d come pick you up, right?”

A faint inhale, one that held so many feelings that your words could never express, “I know.”

“Get home safe, okay?”

“I will,” you assured him. “And good luck today. Or- tomorrow, I guess. I know you’ll kill it.”

This was how Max knew you weren’t keeping up with Formula 1. He had officially claimed his second world championship title last weekend in Japan. He could quite literally sit out of the remaining races and still hold enough points to safely stand at the top of the driver standings.

But he wasn’t going to tell you that because he knew you’d instantly feel bad for not knowing, for not congratulating him. In your head, the championship fight went until the end of the season and typically it would, but this year was different for Max.

Max just said thank you and you both hung up. You climbed into the backseat of an uber where there was no water waiting for you and you didn’t dare ask for the driver to play Harry Styles. Max laid back on his bed, pushing his tray of room service aside as he stared up at the hotel ceiling.

When he returned that following Monday, Max was surprised to see dark blue streamers hanging on the outside of his door. There was a card shoved halfway underneath the door and he opened it up, looking at the delicate handwriting that read ‘heard you’re a world champion or whatever, let me know if you want to celebrate, I don’t mind picking you up for a change’.

Max laughed as he read the card. It was very you. You didn’t give two shits about the driver championship and Max loved that. He loved that you found reasons to be his friend outside from the fact that he was a Formula 1 driver. You didn’t care that his name came with power, wealth, fame, but you still showed your support with the little you knew about racing. You were a good friend to him.

And that’s what it was. Friendship. Why else would you have written, ‘I don't mind picking you up for a change’? You weren’t offering to celebrate with him, you were offering to be the designated driver after he went out with his group of friends, the friends that did care about his career.

Max would have gone out and celebrated with you. He would have said yes in a heartbeat, if you asked.

But you didn't. The closest that you came to going out with him was when you politely invited him to join you on your evenings out with your close circle, but Max was an afterthought. You never knocked on his door and invited him out, it was only if you passed him in the hallway or if the elevator doors opened and he was standing on the other side.

And Max said the same thing every time. ‘Nah, you have fun. Let me know if you need a ride home.’

Max thought you were just being friendly, neighbourly, but the truth was, you were waiting for the day where he said ‘Yeah, why not?’.

You never went out of your way to ask him out because of the rejection you had received in passing. How embarrassing would it be if you knocked on his door only to be met with the same rejection? To see the look of pity on his face as the door slowly shut.

There was a lot of uncertainty when it came to how you saw him or how he saw you and the only thing that was certain, was that you were friends.

So that’s why Max didn’t knock on your door now and make up some excuse about how you left his lip gloss in his car. He returned to his room and found himself staring up at the ceiling of his flat at 2:30 in the morning, something he had gotten quite used to, until sleep took over as he was thinking about how maybe next time, maybe next Friday, he’ll make a proper move.

But a wrench was thrown into his plans when your name lit up his phone screen a few days later. It wasn’t weird that you were calling him, what he couldn’t understand was why. It was a little after three on a Wednesday. Your conversations, the phone calls, the late night drives, they were confined to weekends.

Max answered though, maybe you left work early and accidentally drank too many sangrias on a patio. He’d pick you up, of course, this was just very unlike your pattern.

He expected to hear the slurring of words. He could understand drunk you enough to piece together what you were saying.

But the sharp inhale through your words, this was new. It was clear you were actively trying to not cry into the phone, trying to hold yourself together but Max heard it as your meek ‘hi’ came through the receiver.

And god did it break him.

“Where are you?” Max asked, already sliding his shoes on practically sprinting towards the elevator. Of course it was stuck on the main floor. No matter how many times he pressed the button, that steel boxed moved too damn slowly for his own good.

“Horizon,” you sniffed. Max recognized that restaurant. “I’m sorry, I didn’t- I didn’t know who to call. Can you-”

“I’m already on the way.”

It wasn’t far. Max pulled up outside the restaurant in under ten minutes. You were sitting on a bench, dark shades covering your eyes but Max caught the way you raised your hand to wipe your cheeks before climbing into the car.

He didn’t even think to grab tissues before leaving his flat, but he had a feeling you would just deny them anyway. If he knew anything about you, he knew you weren’t one to cry. You had a very hard exterior, you felt things deeply, but you didn’t cry. Not in front of other people.

“Can we just- I don’t know, can we just drive for a bit?” you kept your gaze on the road in front of you. This wasn’t like you and Max would do anything to see the light in your eyes, to see your bright smile that made getting out of bed at 2 in morning worth it every time.

Max nodded, getting the idea that you didn’t want to talk. Or if you did, it would be on your own accord. You crossed one leg over the other and Max glanced at the beige romper you wore. He didn’t point out the dark red stain on your hem, but you rubbing at it was certainly not going to get it out. He could only assume it was wine? Did you spill wine on yourself at lunch? Who were you even out for lunch with?

And then he noticed you playing with the ring on your middle finger, again this wasn’t like you. You didn’t fidget and if you did, you’d play with the strands of your hair.

Max had seen you drunk, he’d seen you a few drinks in, he’d seen you sober.

He’d never seen you so upset over something before, though. The silence in the car was heavy. Whatever was on your mind, he wished there was a way for him to take some of the weight off of you.

He wasn’t travelling in any particular direction, just aimlessly around Monaco, but after the seconds turned to minutes, Max saw you visibly relax against the seat of his car.

“Do you know what I do?” You asked him, pulling your sunglasses off.

You both turned your faces towards each other. Faint mascara smudges stained the corner of your eyes. Your cheeks were still rosy, your jaw was clenched in anticipation of the rest of the conversation. This wasn’t the you that Max was used to, but it was a version of you he wanted to get to know. He wanted to know every side of you, even the sides you tried to hide behind sunglasses and spilled wine and choked back tears.

“Job wise?” Max asked for clarification. “Yeah, you’re ah- an environmental consultant? Right?”

You were a little impressed that he knew, but to be fair, you’ve had hundreds of conversations with Max and you weren’t sober for all of them. The discussion of jobs probably slipped your mind.

“I like my job,” you stated.

“Good. That’s important.”

“So why do I feel stuck?”

Max licked his lower lip, “Elaborate.”

“I’ve been doing the same thing since I graduated,” you told him, looking out the window again. Slowly, the Monte Carlo skyline was disappearing into the side mirrors. “And I like it, I do. I like the company I work for. I like the people I work with, but why does it feel like that’s the only thing I have going for me in life right now?”

“I’m sure that’s not true,” Max sighed, but if he was being honest, he had no idea. What he knew about you was minimal and it killed him.

You nodded, but it was just out of politeness so as to not argue that he was wrong.

A few more minutes passed before you inhaled the heaviest breath your lungs could take.

“My sister’s engaged. Rina’s moving to Milan at the end of the summer. My brother travels for a living and I just- I’m not doing anything.”

So that’s what this was about. Max was smart, he could put the pieces together. You talked about your siblings a bit, but you never mentioned your sister getting married before. The way you were looking down at your hand throughout this drive told Max that this late lunch was you meeting your sister so she could announce the good news.

And something as big as that would undoubtedly send someone spiralling, making them question their own life choices, the path they were on. As long as Max has known you, you’ve had the same job, same friends, no partner.

Your best friend moving was not new either, you had excitedly told Max about her job offer a few weeks back, but maybe it was just sinking in now. Everyone around you was moving onto bigger and better things and you were, as you put it, stuck.

“I think I need a change of scenery,” you admitted quietly.

Which was not what Max wanted to hear.

Selfishly, he didn’t want you to leave Monaco. Even though he was the one who was gone so many weeks out of the year for the races, he liked knowing you would always be there when he returned home. That you were just down the hall.

Before Max could try and talk you out of moving, you reached across the centre console and put your hand over his, the one that rested on the gear stick. This wasn’t the first time you had done this, Max knew you to be a little handsy when you were drinking, but you seemed to be sober this time.

“I’m sorry for calling you,” you said, even though you really didn’t need to apologise. “I didn’t know who else to call and I just, I needed to breathe.”

Max found comfort in that.

That he was someone you could clear your head with, that you didn’t need to put on an act around him. In a way, you trusted him. You must have if he was your first call after your sister dropped a bombshell.

When the two of you found your way back to the apartment complex, Max walked you to the door like he always did. Your flushed cheeks had returned to its normal colour. Your eyes no longer looked glossed over. And the smile you gave him seemed genuine.

You unlocked the door and pushed it open and something in Max screamed now or never and before he knew it, he was reaching for your hand to keep you from going inside. He pulled you back to face him and the expression you wore was unreadable.

Max froze.

Something that he never did.

He was always calm and collected, always ahead of his thoughts, always knew what to do and when to do it.

But that was thanks to his training and his training only prepared him for driving at ridiculous speeds and navigating dozens of race tracks and thinking on his feet in tough situations while he sat behind the wheel of an F1 car.

His training didn’t prepare him for how stunned he would feel as he met your eyes, grabbing your attention for the first time outside the safety net of his regular car.

Whatever Max wanted to say, it had now vanished and he had no choice but to rely on the words that he had told you many times before.

“You know you don’t need to apologise for calling me, right?” Max said, his hand falling from yours.

“I know,” a faint breath of laughter followed your assurance.

“And for the record-” Max paused. “I don’t think you’re stuck. I think you’re right where you need to be.”

Max’s words stayed with you for the next few days. In fact, they were all you could think about, even when you met Rina Saturday night at your usual spot. She had ordered you a drink, she was a few in herself already and you had barely taken a sip when she brought up the idea of you moving to Milan with her.

You almost spit out the cocktail, “I- what? Move with you? Rina, my job’s here.”

“Yeah but you’re so experienced, I’m sure you could find another one in Milan,” Rina stuck out her lower lip. “I just don’t know what I’m supposed to do without my best friend.”

While you might have contemplated moving a few days ago, you weren’t sure you were really ready to leave Monaco. This was your home, you loved it here. Despite what you said to Max about feeling stuck, his words were burned into your mind.

You weren’t stuck. You had no reason to leave. You wanted to be here.

You just had a momentary lapse of judgement.

“I’m not moving, Rina,” you sighed, connecting your hand with hers. “But I’ll visit and you can too. I’m still your best friend, even if we’re in different countries.”

She knew better than to plead her case any more, deciding that spending the night drinking and dancing was more fun than thinking about her upcoming move.

And before you knew it, the DJ made an announcement for the last call at the bar and you were pulling out your phone to call Max.

“Why don’t you just tell him how you feel?” Rina said, or rather, yelled, as the music was still blaring. She saw his contact on your screen, she saw the way the corner of your lips were pulled upwards when you thought about being with him shortly.

“Because I don’t feel anything,” you shouted back. It was a lie. A bold faced lie that your friend saw right through but didn’t push you any more on it.

She walked with you to the curb. Max rolled down the window and waved to her, offering her a ride as well. But Rina denied it, she knew this was your time to be with Max.

“Get home safe, I love you,” you called out, hand gripping the handle of the passenger side door. Rina blew you a kiss and then you climbed in.

Max reached into the backseat and grabbed the bottle of water he had tossed there when he left his apartment. He waited until taking a sip before asking if you had a fun night.

“Yeah, Rina asked me to move to Milan with her,” you answered, wiping the corner of your mouth. You looked at Max expectantly, trying to gauge what his answer would be. Surely the man who told you that you were in the right place wasn’t going to encourage you to move.

Max just hummed and put the car into drive. He waited until you were a few minutes away from the club to say anything, as if seeing Rina standing on the sidewalk in the rearview mirror was somehow going to make this conversation harder.

“What did you-” Max stopped himself and chose something else to say, “You’re not moving, though. Right?”

And then you saw it. The way his eyebrows furrowed in concern. The way his hand clenched over the gear lever. The way his jaw tightened as he fought with himself before asking if you were in fact leaving.

Max didn’t want you to go.

That thought alone made your stomach turn in knots, but not the kind you felt when you were sick. You were most definitely not sick, you could have been floating on cloud 9 when you realised Max wanted you to stay in Monaco.

“Are you kidding?” You retorted, feeling a burst of confidence. Maybe it was the alcohol, but you had been drunk before and never once tried flirting. No time like the present. “Think of how inconvenient it would be for you to drive to Milan every time I go clubbing.”

Max chuckled, his features softening as the lines around his lips made an appearance. God you loved his smile.

“Oh so you’re staying for my sake? Well that’s- that’s really kind of you. Thank you.”

He stopped at a red light and turned to you. The heavy weight that was lingering on his shoulders when you mentioned moving had disappeared instantly. You weren’t going anywhere. You would still be here when Max returned from his races. You’d be here during the break. You’d be here, calling his phone on those Friday and Saturday nights when you needed a ride home.

“Can I ask you something?” Max spoke quietly, waiting until you nodded before getting something off his mind that had been there since this whole driving arrangement started. “Who do you call when I’m not in Monaco?”

Your smile was soft as the corner of your lips were tugged upwards. Max, if he wanted to, could have convinced himself it was the alcohol that caused you to be all smiley, but he also wanted to believe he had something to do with it.

Dropping your gaze for a moment, you parted your lips, closed them again, and then took a breath as Max waited for your response.

“Max, I don’t go out when you’re not in Monaco.”

He was thinking he didn’t hear you correctly. Maybe you said you called some guy named Marco. That made more sense. You called a back-up rather than put your evening social life on pause while he was away.

He needed clarification, “What?”

You laughed this time, looking out the windshield. The traffic light was still red, but Max didn’t need to rely on the soft glow of the street light to make out the shade of pink that was climbing up your neck and cheeks.

“I don’t go out clubbing when you’re not in Monaco,” you repeated. He had heard you correctly.

Max wasn’t sure what to think.

He felt like an idiot, for starters. If he had known you wanted to see him, to spend time with him, he would have put an effort in to join you during your nights out. Or better yet, maybe he would have asked you on a date.

But he was clueless. He didn’t know that you relied on those calls at the end of the night because you were too shy to actually ask him out like a normal person would. You were too afraid of stepping outside of this pattern you both fell into because what if it didn’t work out?

Now it was all out in the open. The only reason you went out as much as you did when he was home was because you used it as an excuse to call him, to see him.

The blaring of a horn from the car behind him caused Max to shift gears, quite literally and metaphorically. He took off, having missed the light turn green, and his attention went back to the road.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to look at you, he did. He very much wanted to continue this conversation but he was at a loss for words.

The silence only grew during the drive back to your building. In the corner of his eye, he could see you shifting in the seat. You kept turning your phone on and off, hoping there would be texts to distract you from this hush that had fallen over the car. You were overthinking everything now, did you say the wrong thing? Would it have been better if you didn’t say anything?

Max too was overthinking everything. Had he misread signs you had tried to give him? Was he now making things worse by not acknowledging what you had said? With each passing second, it became more and more unbearable as you sat in anticipation for what sort of conversation was going to come next.

When Max finally pulled into the parking garage underneath the building, you couldn’t have reached for the door handle faster. You wanted to go inside, to forget you had said anything. God you even debated deleting his number from your phone so you didn’t risk calling him again the next time you went out.

But Max was quick too.

He knew he had to do something to make up for how painful this car ride was, something that showed you he was on the same page as you, that he too looked forward to the moments he was home just so he could wait for your phone call.

He stepped out of the car when you did, walking around the front instead of heading towards the elevator. You kept your eyes down, planning on just walking right past him, and you would have, had Max not grabbed hold of your hand and pulled you into his body.

His fingers moved from your hand to your waist as his other hand cupped the side of your face and you finally looked at him for the first time since you got into the car.

Now it was your turn to be at a loss for words, but that didn’t matter anyway. It wasn’t like you had time to say anything before Max took that leap, crossed the line, and pressed his lips to yours.

And it was everything you had been waiting for.

Max leaned against the hood of his car as you slid your hand up his shirt, grabbing the thin material as you wasted no time in kissing him back. His mouth was tender and soft as it moved against yours, both of you feeling the same intensity that had been building up for weeks, maybe even months now.

It took everything in Max to not drag you back into the car and pull you on his lap in the driver's seat, an image that he had painted in his head a while ago. Instead, his grip on your waist just tightened, holding you against his chest the way he had been wanting to for a while now.

Your nose brushed against his when you pulled back, your gaze lingered on his lips before finally darting upwards.

The parking garage was quiet, there was a low hum that came from the pipes above you. The overhead lights did nothing to set any sort of mood, but you couldn’t imagine a better place to share a first kiss with Max.

You weren’t in the safety of his car, a place that had become so comfortable to you. By waiting until you stepped out, by stopping you from walking to the elevator, Max was showing you that this was something he wanted and he wanted it when the car ride was over. He wanted it before you called him, before you went out for the night, before the weekend even started.

He relaxed against the hood of his car, both of you sharing similar looks of serenity. There was no more confusion, no more wavering uncertainty.

His fingers brushed through your hair before bringing your lips to his once more.

And then there it was, that smile of yours that made getting into his car two in the morning so fucking worth it.

“What are you doing next weekend?” Max asked. He now knew the answer wouldn’t be going out with friends, that was reserved for when he was home.

You shrugged, “I’m not sure, why?”

“Well you said you wanted a change of scenery, right?” Max recalled your conversation from earlier this week. “How about the Netherlands?”

“You want me to come to a race?” You were probably the last person who should be invited to a Grand Prix and Max knew this, he even laughed at your doubtful response.

“I really do,” he said.

“I don’t know anything about Formula 1.”

Max rubbed his thumb over your side, the simple gesture was enough to have your body curving against his once more.

“I have all of next week to give you a crash course,” he pointed out. “If you’re interested.”

And of course you were. There’s nothing else you wanted more than to spend your evenings with Max, to learn more about his career, to learn about him. When your lips curved upwards into another smile, Max knew you were on board.

“Okay,” you nodded slightly. “On one condition.”

“Which is?”

“You go out with me the next weekend you’re in Monaco.”

Max dipped his head back and laughed. You rested your hand at the nape of his neck, pulling his face back to yours.

“I’m serious.”

“I know you are,” he chuckled. “And I will, but we’ll be leaving before last call.”

“That’s fine with me as long as you still take me home,” you pressed your lips together tightly, trying to contain your eagerness for the night that was still far in the future. Max brushed his thumb over your lower lip. He too was thinking ahead.

Not just to that upcoming weekend, but every weekend after and all of the days inbetween.

Coming home to Monaco was always something he looked forward to, but now he had even more of a reason to anticipate the breaks between races. You two didn’t have to wait until a Friday evening to see each other anymore.

He didn’t have to be your first call at the end of the night, but you both knew he still would be, and so much more.

He’d be your first call when you got home from work and you’d be his when he landed in a new country. You’d be the first person to call him after watching his winning performance of a race and likewise, you’d be the first person he wanted to talk to, the first person he wanted to celebrate with.

There’d be a lot of firsts moving forward, but you didn’t need to wait until last call anymore.

masterlist here

this was mostly for @tsarinablogs and @estevries

#max verstappen x you #max verstappen x reader #max verstappen #max verstappen au #max verstappen fanfic #max verstappen one shot #mv1 #mv 1 fanfic #max au #f1 one shot #f1 instagram au #f1 requests

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reiding-writing · 5 months

Note

Ok hear me out read is an art professor and she invites the team to come to a showcase she planned for her student and the whole night is filled with her and her student laughing with each other and her fawning over her students and Spencer is in awe at the relationships she’s built while teaching

(Sorry for the long ask🤍)

favours [ s.r ]

Summary:

You’re in the final preparations for your students’ art exhibition, all you need now is as many people to attend as possible, leading you straight to your fellow professor and major mild work crush, Dr. Spencer Reid, to ask him for a personal favour.

WARNINGS: n/a

pairing: professor!spencer x fem!professor!reader

genre: fluff, two pining idiots in love

wc: 3.5k

masterlist!!

a/n: did i hyperfixate on this request bc it was so damn cute and proceed to write the whole thing in one sitting instead of over multiple days like i usually would? yes, yes i did.

thank you for requesting <33 the idea that someone genuinely thinks my writing is good enough to specifically want to read more of it makes me cry happy tears inside

Three days.

Three days until your class’ art exhibition, scouted by some of the most profound Art Directors in the country.

It was incredibly important, and you were pulling every string you could to make sure that your students got the absolute best results from it.

You’d asked almost everyone you knew to be in attendance, hoping that the more people who attended the exhibition, the more likely the scouts were to pick up your students from the amount of attention their pieces were getting.

That’s what lead you here. Stood outside of Dr. Spencer Reid’s office.

You had always been fascinated with his roots as an FBI Agent, not to mention his overwhelming intelligence in every subject you could possibly think of.

You can vividly recall the first time you met almost a year ago, and how he talked your ear off for almost an hour about the intricacies of the print of Monet’s ‘Woman with a parasol’ hung up in your office.

How it was actually a painting of Monet’s wife and son that he’d painted to capture one sunny and slightly windy day that they’d spent as a family.

How Monet helped create the genre of impressionism paintings through his works in the early 1860’s.

How oil paints were, and continue to be, some of the most widely used mediums due to its sheer versatility, and how easy its materials were to find.

And you explicitly remember how you questioned how this man wasn’t at all educated in the fine arts despite knowing so much about it.

You give three short knocks on Spencer’s office door, praying that he wasn’t currently in a lecture or busy with something else.

“Come in,” You give an internal sigh of relief at his voice on the other side of the door, pushing it open and peeking your head inside first before entering and closing the door behind you,

“Oh,” Spencer blinked up at you as you entered, clearly not having expected it to be you, but his expression showing that he wasn’t disappointed that it was you either. “Are you alright?”

“I need a favour,” You cut straight to the point as you walk across his office, noting the copy of Vincent Van Gogh’s biography on his desk as you pull out the chair on it’s opposite side, it definitely not being something he’d usually read on his breaks.

That’s something you’d remembered about him. As much as Spencer Reid could talk for hours on practically any subject you could possibly think of, he was not one for small talk.

Spencer raised an eyebrow at you slightly. “A favour?”

You nod with a slightly pleading expression, silently begging him to accept before you even ask him the question. “So my students have their final exhibition this Saturday and it’s being scouted by some really important people and I really want it to go perfectly for them so I’m trying to rally as many people to attend as possible because popularity means attention and attention means a higher likelihood of getting scouted-”

You fall into a ramble of a tangent, only stopping when you’d physically couldn’t keep going due to a lack of oxygen, taking a sharp breath in through your nose.

“Long story short, I am practically begging you to come. You can bring anybody you want, you can bring everybody you know if you want to.” You tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, your eyes desperately pleading with him to humour you. “I just really want this to go well,”

Spencer almost melted at your expression. You were clearly very passionate about your students and their futures and the expression on your face made any resolve for him spending his Saturday night curled up in his study like he usually would fly straight out of the window. “What time should I be there?”

Your shoulder’s visibly relax at his question, and you reach a hand across his desk to grasp at his, giving it a small squeeze. “Oh my god thank you you have no idea to much this means to me,”

Spencer mourns the loss of your hand on his as soon as you pull it back into your lap.

“The exhibition starts at six, but I want to give my class a test run of what the experience will be like before they’re actually bombarded so could I ask you to be there for around five-thirty?”

“Five-thirty is perfect,” His tone matches his expression, soft, pure, and completely willing to help you out with whatever you ask of him.

“I really owe you one for this, thank you so much Dr. Reid,” You sing Spencer’s praises in your head as you stand, clasping your hands together as you make a mental reminder to pay him back later.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

“You’re down bad huh?”

He’d expected Morgan’s teasing, but that didn’t mean that his cheeks didn’t flush red at the comment. “She’s just a friend Morgan,”

“Just a friend my ass,” Morgan rolled his eyes. “Doesn’t that new episode of Doctor Who come out tomorrow, at six o’clock? You know, the one you’v e been raving about for the last two weeks about not wanting to miss?”

He couldn’t really deny deny that. He had been going on about wanting to watch that new episode, and how he wouldn’t miss it for the world. Yet here he was, declaring to the team that he was going to be spending his Saturday evening at a university art exhibition instead.“I can record it and watch it when I get home,”

“Mhm, sureee lover,” Spencer rolled his eyes with a small sigh at Morgan’s tone, beginning to regret his request for the team to accompany him. “Are you going to come or not?”

“Oh I’ll be there alright,” Morgan gave Spencer a sharp pat on the shoulder as he vacated to the kitchenette, and Spencer glanced towards JJ and Emily who both served him a short nod and knowing glances.

He was doing this for you. He could endure some teasing from his team. It’d be fine.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

He noticed you before you noticed him, kneeling on the floor behind one of your students pieces to adjust the angle of the standing light so it would best show off the painting’s vibrant colours. You’d always had an eye for details like that.

He didn’t notice the unconscious smile that breached his features as his eyes landed on you, but Morgan definitely did.

“Ooh, look at you all blushing and smiling,” Morgan elbowed Spencer in the side lightly, to which Spencer cleared his throat and subconsciously adjusted his shirt collar, straightening his features out once more. “Shut up Morgan…”

“It’s the pretty lady with the skirt right?” Garcia leaned up on her toes to look over Spencer’s shoulder as you got up from your kneeling position, floor length skirt swaying loosely with your movement as you walked around the canvas to see if the change in lighting had made a difference.

Spencer had to consciously suppress a sigh. Maybe bringing the team here to witness him silently fawn over you was not the best idea. “Yes, she’s- the one with the skirt,”

He rubbed that palm of his hand down his face, turning to the group. “Stay here, i’ll be back in a minute,”

He gave them a glance as he made his way over to you, silently warning them to behave themselves like they were a group of children in a sweet shop.

“Hey,”

You turn on your heels at the sound of Spencer’s voice, your skirt twirling with you as your eyes first land on Spencer’s chest before looking up towards his face. “You’re here, oh thank god,”

You take his arm and pull him to stand beside you, turning his body to look at the canvas. “Do you think the lighting is right? Or is it still too shadowed on the bottom right hand corner?”

Spencer’s mind goes completely blank as you physically move him to where you want him to be, caught up on the warmth of your hand on his arm rather than your question. “It uh…”

He takes a second to recompose himself as he stares at the canvas in front of him, an array of vibrant coloured dots arranged in the vague silhouette of an autumnal park. “It looks perfect to me,”

Your nod indicates he gave the right answer. “Good, okay, that’s good,” You tap your hand against his arm for a second, biting the inside of your cheek as you analyse it for a few moments more.

“I uh- brought some friends with me-” Spencer nods towards the team with his head. “Well- they’re technically my co-workers but i’d still say they’re friends-”

Your eyes follow Spencer’s nod towards the six people gathered by the entrance, greeted immediately by a wave of smiles, and you mirror them with your own as you look back at Spencer again. “You are a literal god among men,”

You give his arm a squeeze before breaking into a half jog towards his team to introduce yourself, leaving Spencer to follow you with his eyes as he tried to hide the blush covering his cheeks.

“Hi, it’s a pleasure to meet you all, I hope i’m not interrupting too much of your Saturday night,” You won’t lie and say you’re not nervous to meet them, especially considering Spencer had mentioned the group being his co-workers and therefore FBI Agents, but you keep a positive expression on your face nonetheless.

“Oh don’t be silly, this is probably the most exciting Saturday night any of us have had in a while,” The petite blonde woman at the front of the group waves off your concern with a small laugh, one that you mirror with a small sigh of relief.

A few short introductions later, you send the group on their own personal missions, each set with a printed out sheet of paper containing various questions about the art pieces to ask your students, hoping to prepare them for the inevitable onslaught they would endure when the exhibit opened in 18 minutes.

18 minutes.

The glance at the clock hung on the wall reminds you of your time constraint as you eye the hall for any of your students in need of help.

Sure enough you find yourself repositioning a line of clay pottery whilst one of your students adjusts the small carpet under column they’re perched on to make sure they don’t fall off balance and accidentally shatter before the doors open, caught in pleasant conversation as you explain the best way for the glazing to gloss in the light.

“You really are down bad aren’t you?” Morgan’s voice interrupted Spencer’s unapologetic staring in your direction, and he sighs as he turned to give Morgan a pointed glare.

“Oh come on Reid, it’s so obvious,” Spencer has half the mind to stuff the sheet of paper in his hand in Morgan’s mouth to get him to stop talking.

“She likes you too you know,” Both Morgan and Spencer turn in tandem towards the new voice, one of your students who’d incidentally overheard the conversation as he focused on hanging up a black backdrop behind his full-body sculpture. “She talks about you in class all the time,”

Spencer’s cheeks automatically blush a dark shade of red at the revelation, not at all helped by the muffled chuckles coming from Morgan. “She’s sketched you a bunch too, she uses them as examples in our realism classes,”

Spencer thinks he might implode in this moment. You’ve talked about him in your classes? You’ve drawn him and shown them in your classes?

“Apparently your hair is perfect and she really likes the shape of your nose,” The student shrugs, only half invested in his own explanation as he staples the black fabric to the wall.

Spencer subconsciously brings his hand up to the bridge of his nose, tracing his fingers down it as he imagines what else you might’ve said without him knowing.

“Ooh, looks like the lover boy’s got a chance,” Spencer nearly does stuff his paper in Morgan’s mouth at that statement, pushing his arm as he shook his head, only causing Morgan to laugh further.

“Five minutes guys! Pack everything that you’re not using away! Remember, your art is your baby, treat it like it’s the most important thing to ever exist, and don’t forget to compliment your own abilities!”

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

“You’ve really got your whole heart in this haven’t you?” Spencer catches you mildly off guard as you lovingly watch your students promote their art pieces to the viewers of the exhibition from afar.

“Why wouldn’t I?” You chuckle softly at the question, turning your head slightly to look at him standing next to you. “I find no greater achievement in life that watching aspiring artists take their shot. Especially if i’m the one who’s had the pleasure of guiding them.”

“It’s really sweet of you to put so much of yourself into helping your students, i’m sure they’re all really appreciative,” Spencer could read the love you had for your students all over your face, and it only served to drown him deeper in his adoration for you.

To see someone put so much time, so much effort, so much love, into something that they ultimately had no benefit in was really admirable, and it was one of the things that he’d come to adore about your character.

It wasn’t just the fact that your hair shone in the overhead lighting, or the fact that you smiled like an angel sent down from the heavens. It wasn’t the lingering touches between you when you’d spend time together or the fact that you’d gone out of your way to read one of his favourite books during your lunch breaks so that you’d have something to talk about.

It was just you. You as a person. Even your flaws were flawless and he couldn’t understand how it was physically possible for someone to be so… perfect.

“Do you really like the shape of my nose?” The comfortable silence between you is broken by Spencer’s question, the words falling out of his mouth before he has time to think them over.

“Wh- I-” You immediately fall into a state of mild panic, your features flushed and your eyes darting around the hall as you attempt to maintain your composure. “How did- Who told you that?”

“I uh…” Spencer mirrors you in his flusteredness, internally punching himself for allowing the question to leave his mouth. “One of your students did… With the sculpture-”

He half-points in the direction of the full-body sculpture, a small semi-circle of people surrounding it as they examine the art and talk to your student about it, and you purse your lips as you make a mental promise to yourself to out the plethora of sketches he’d made of his classmate at his graduation as payback.

“You- have a very drawable face,” You nod exaggeratedly as if it was going to get you out of the conversation, although Spencer’s apparent obliviousness rendered that strategy useless.

“..Drawable?” His eyebrows furrowed slightly, leaving small wrinkles above the bridge of his nose and casting his eyelids in a small shadow that you would die to take a picture of and recreate in charcoal.

“Uh, yeah, drawable, you’re an easy person to draw,” You shrug slightly, trying to offset your awkwardness as nonchalance, as if you drawing Spencer whilst he was bent over a book in the lunch room was a totally normal thing for anyone to do. “You’ve got nice facial features…”

You will yourself to stop talking because you know if you continue you’ll end up saying something that throws you right in the deep end and you’ll never mentally recover.

“Oh-” Spencer’s face flushes further if that’s even possible, a beautiful rose colour painting his cheeks that would make an absolutely perfect art piece. “Thank you-”

“No problem-” The two of you fall into a slightly awkward silence after that, and you find momentary solace in watching one of your students fall into what seems like an enrapturing conversation with one of the scouting directors about the nature of her painting.

“Hey uh- Dr. Reid,” You tear your eyes away from the exhibition and back towards Spencer again, surrendering to the inevitability of you having to push your way through the awkwardness between you if you wanted to continue your conversation with him. Which you did. Very much. “I’m uh- sorry if I made you uncomfortable by sketching you without your permission, that wasn’t my intention at all,”

“Oh- no it’s completely fine-” Spencer waved a hand in front of him as if to wave away all of your worries. “It’s really flattering actually,”

His sentence was joined by a small laugh as he raked his fingers through the curls at the base of his neck, the curls covering the inside of your most prized sketchpad. “And you don’t have to call me Dr. Reid all the time, Spencer is perfectly fine,”

He offered you a soft smile that made your heart flutter, and you find yourself only capable of responding with a nod, unable to form a coherent string of words in your head.

“Maybe you can show me them some time,”

You blink up at him for a second before you realise he’s talking about the sketches. “Oh, uh, they’re not very good-”

“I’ve seen some of your pieces, you’re incredible,” Spencer shakes his head at your assessment of your drawings. “’Don’t forget to compliment your own abilities’, it’d be a little hypocritical to tell your students that and then downplay your own don’t you think?”

You mentally curse his judgement as you’re reminded of his eidetic memory, something you’d found entirely fascinating when he’d first explained it to you.

“That’s not fair-” You let out a small laugh of exasperation, tucking your hair behind your ear.

Spencer smiles at your internal panic, and he decides now is a good of a time as ever to just make the leap. He liked you, and he was fairly certain that you liked him too.

“Do you remember saying you ‘owe me one’ a few days ago when you first asked me to attend the exhibit? If you show me your sketches we can call it even,” Spencer’s eyes trailed over every one of your features as your micro-expressions changed whilst you deliberated the question.

“And whilst we’re at it, maybe we can- go and get coffee together or something…” Spencer tried to ignore the pounding of his heart against his chest as he extended his proposal, and your eyes immediately flicker up to his as he finishes speaking.

“Like- a date?”

“If you’d like it to be…” The two of you were both horribly flustered by now, both of you practically radiating your emotions for each other.

“I- Yeah… I’d like that,” You smile that gorgeous, perfect smile up at him and he swears his heart melts into a puddle at the sight.

“Perfect..”

Thank god for mutual favours.

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #mgg #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds fluff #asks 🫶

531 notes · View notes

taeghi · 10 months

Note

CAN U PLEASE WRITE AN ENHYPEN MFM THREESOME!!! i love ur writing and i need this lol <3333

triad of hearts || (m)

⁂ pairing : boyfriend!jake x reader x boyfriend's bestfriend!heeseung

⁂ summary : what happens when your boyfriend finds out you have feelings for his best friend?

⁂ warnings : SMUT, pure filthy smut. minors dni!

⁂ word count : 5,600

⁂ taglist. : @whoslai @lufcxx @mimikittysblog @chiiiiiiiiis @weyukinluv @starggukies @prettykia @novacontreras @seuomo @luvitria @nshmrarki @seongslutt @bleepsnorp @enhaz1 @enhastolemyheart @luvleyk @heeverseblog

the sun cast a warm glow through the curtains of the cozy apartment where you and your boyfriend jake, and his best friend, heeseung found themselves spending a lazy saturday afternoon together. the atmosphere was relaxed and filled with the familiar sounds of laughter and easy conversation.

the living room was adorned with comfortable furniture and decorated with trinkets that showcased the shared memories of the trio’s adventures. the couch was strewn with colourful cushions, a soft throw blanket draped over its arm, inviting anyone who passed by to snuggle up. the coffee table adorned with a few empty cups and a board game they had played earlier, bore witness to the laughter that had echoed through the apartment.

you sat beside jake on your couch, your heart filled with so much affection for him. you cherished your deep connection and admired his unwavering support and understanding. your relationship was truly built on trust, love, and shared dreams. an you were grateful for every moment you spent together.

however, you couldn’t help but feel a flutter of butterflies in your stomach whenever heeseung was around. his magnetic personality, quick wit and genuine kindness had captured your attention from the first time you met. heeseung was more than just jake’s best friend; he had become a great friend to you as well, someone who you could confide in and rely on.

as your trio lounged in the living room, you engaged in light banter, reminiscing about your college days and sharing stories of your recent lives. you found yourself stealing glances at heeseung, his infectious laughter resonating in your ears, and his warm smile lighting up the room. you admired his intelligence, passion for music and his ability to make everyone around him at ease.

jake, oblivious to your internal struggle, leaned back on the couch, one arm casually draped over your shoulder. he shared playful conversation with heeseung, their bond as best friends evident in their easy camaraderie. jake’s presence brought comfort and familiarity to you, and you cherished the way he made you feel safe and loved.

as the afternoon stretched on, your emotions became entangled internally. you yearned for the freedom to express your true feelings but you also felt an overwhelming sense of loyalty and commitment to jake. you grappled with the fear of disrupting the harmony of their friendship and the potential repercussions on your relationship.

your heart ached as you imagined the possibility of jeopardizing the beautiful connection you had with jake. you reminded yourself of the love you had built together, the countless moments of happiness you had experienced and the future you had envisioned. but deep down, you knew you were attracted to heeseung and you had to navigate these emotions delicately.

but, unbeknownst to you, jake had noticed the stolen glances and the subtle change in your demeanor whenever heeseung came over.

when heeseung left that night, jake, his playful nature ever present, couldn’t resist the urge to confront you about it. with a mischievous grin tugging at the corners of his lips, he turns to you, your eyes meeting.

“y/n, is there anything that you wanna share that’s going on in the beautiful mind of yours?” jake asked you, his hand coming up to brush fallen hair out of your face. “anything about heeseung in particular?”

you could feel your cheeks flush slightly, caught off guard by jake’s perceptiveness. you felt a mixture of panic and relief, unsure of how to respond. your eyes darted towards your lap, not being able to look at jake anymore. “jake- no, nothing. you know we’re just friends.”

jake’s smile breaks out into a laugh as he listens to your reply. his eyes twinkle with amusement at your shy demeanor. “c’mon y/n, we’ve been together long enough for me to see how you act around someone you like. i can tell there’s something more there. and it’s perfectly okay. just be honest with me.”

your eyes widened in surprise, your heart pounding in your chest. you searched jake’s face for any evidence of anger or jealous, but found nothing but warmth and understanding.

you gulp, “you mean, you’re not upset?”

“no, not at all. i know you still love me, and you’ve developed feelings for heeseung as well. i trust you completely.” jake’s warm smile matches the rest of him. “besides, it’s not like i haven’t noticed the way hee looks at you, too.”

you feel your breath catch in your throat, eyes widening with a mix of surprise and relief. the weight of all your unspoken anxieties began to life, replaced with a newfound sense of openness and honesty.

“you’ve noticed?” you ask your boyfriend curiously.

jake nods, “of course. i may be your boyfriend but i’m not blind!”

you laugh at him, “so you’re really okay with it?”

with a shrug jake nods again, “yeah, but how’re we going to tell, heeseung?”

your apartment was filled with anticipation, the air thick with nervous excitement. you and jake sat side by side on the couch, their hands intertwined as you prepared to have a conversation that would change the dynamics of your relationship forever. you had spent countless hours discussing your desires and fears and now the time had come to share your intentions with heeseung.

your heart raced in your chest as you stole a glance at jake who met your gaze with a reassuring smile. your love had grown and evolved and you had come to a realization that you and jake wanted, or needed to have a threesome with heeseung. your hearts beat in unison, filled with a mix of excitement and apprehension.

a knock on the door interrupted your thoughts, signaling heeseung’s arrival. jake rose from the couch and went to welcome his best friend, inviting him into the apartment heeseung was so familiar with. heeseung entered the room, a warm smile spreading across his face as he greeted his friends.

“hey, guys! what’s going on?”

jake motioned for heeseung to take a seat, his voice filled with mixture of nerves and determination. “we have something important to talk to you about, hee.”

heeseung’s eyebrows furrowed as his curiosity piqued. he settled into a chair that he’s sat in a million times before, his eyes darting between you and jake. “alright, what’s up?”

you take a deep breath, summoning all of your courage possible. you looked into heeseung’s eyes, your voice gentle as you speak. “heeseung– i see the way you look at me.” you notice the hard gulp heeseung takes as his eyes widened, “and i know you must see the way i look at you two, so. uh, we were just wondering if uh, uh,”

“if you’d be willing to have a threesome.” jake finishes for you, almost nonchalantly.

heeseung instantly starts laughing when jake finishes the sentence. and it makes you want to be sucked back into your shared couch you love so much. “are you guys serious?” when you and jake both nod heeseung seems to calm down, “i mean, sure why not?”

jake and you exchange a look of excitement, anticipation filling both of you. “really?” you ask your boyfriend’s best friend.

“yeah, but when?” heeseung shrugs, sitting back comfortably into his chair.

“uh, now?” you suggest, and you can’t possibly miss the way heeseung and jake look at each other, being able to read each other’s minds so easily after being friends for half of their lifetime.

instantly, heeseung and jake are pulling you to your shared bedroom. their expressions filled with a mixture of excitement and nervousness, like they had planned this moment together.

jake provided reassurance, his eyes filled with love and deep understanding. your heart raced with anticipation and vulnerability. heeseung followed closely, his presence offering an additional layer of comfort and support. his eyes met yours, conveying a mix of warmth and friendship, assuring her that it was all going to be okay.

as you entered the bedroom, jake left your side to light the few candles you had in your bedroom. the soft glow casting flickering shadows across the room, creating an atmosphere of intimacy and romance. your bed was adorned with plush pillows and silky sheets, inviting her to sink into its embrace as heeseung pushed you down onto the bed.

“should we uh, talk about what’s allowed, or something?” heeseung speaks, his eyes glancing up from you to jake. jake shrugs and looks at you to answer.

“i trust you, both. anything’s okay. if any of us want to stop then we say red, right?” you look at jake with a comforting smile. heeseung nods, agreeing with the one term you’ve come up with.

with sense of reverence, jake and heeseung sit next to you on the bed. their fingers starting to caress your shoulders. their touch is both tender and respectful, so different than how it will be again in such a short span of minutes.

jake’s first to grab your face and pull you into a kiss, grabbing the hem of your crop top and lifting it up over your breasts. your bra is leaving your breasts from being completely exposed. jake doesn’t hesitate to massage your right breast with his hand.

you glance over at heeseung, who’s watching your boyfriend grope your tit and he seems hesitant.

“it’s okay, seungie, you can touch me, ya know.” you tell him, and his eyes glance up from your breast to your face, a sheepish smile on his face when he realizes he was holding himself back for no reason.

when heeseung leans forward, pulling your bra cup down to expose your nipple, he doesn’t hesitate anymore and sucks your nipple into his mouth. jake is quick with your other bra cup, pulling it down to expose both of your breasts now. jake’s fingers squeeze your nipple, making you moan out in pleasure already.

heeseung stands up just as jake’s right hand starts to trail down your body, cupping you over your shorts. jake’s mouth attaches itself to your nipple, sucking it into his mouth sharply. heeseung quickly gathers himself into the situation as his hand comes up to circulate your throat. heeseung kisses the top of your nose, as if saying “this is it” before delving his mouth onto yours. his mouth on yours is so different than how jake’s feels. but you love it.

as heeseung’s tongue explores your mouth for the first, jake’s hand slips into your shorts, you hear him chuckle when he feels how wet you are. jake’s fingers start to massage your clit into circles, making you moan into heeseung’s mouth.

heeseung pulls away from your mouth and throat, letting you make eye contact with your boyfriend. jake’s fingers are pressing into your clit harder, making you moan out to him, letting him know that he’s making you feel so good already. you feel heeseung start to unclasp your bra from behind you, slipping it off of your shoulders with your shirt.

jake smashes his lips onto yours, both of your lips forming smiles as you kiss. your hands trail down jake’s lean body, feeling the hints of his abs under his shirt as you kiss.

when jake pulls away from your face, heeseung is quick to grab your jaw, making you turn away from jake. heeseung’s eyes glance down your bare body, “you look so fucking good.” you smile up at him at his compliment before he’s pulling you back into another kiss. his tongue roams your mouth, but it doesn’t take away from jake’s tongue swiping at your nipple again.

heeseung gives you one last quick kiss before he’s pulling away and going towards his jean button. jake presses a kiss into your temple as he stands away from you as well, his hands roaming your chest as he does, not being able to stay away from you before he trails down to your panties again. jake’s hand finds its pace as heeseung’s leading your hand to his cock.

when your hand reaches his cock you gasp slightly, not expecting it to be so long. its a lot different from jake’s. its thinner, and paler and definitely longer. and the red tip is pulling you in, wanting to quickly put it in your mouth. your hand starts jerking heeseung’s cock slowly, almost teasing him.

heeseung’s hand finds it place back on your throat, adding pressure on it to make your head be thrown back onto your shoulders as you still sit up on the end of your bed. jake’s lips find yours as you can look up at him again as he stands beside you, his fingers relentless as they circle your clit.

“so fucking sexy,” you hear heeseung mumble out into the room, barely above a whisper as his words blend with your moans leading into jake’s mouth. jake’s tongue darts across your lips, wanting access into your mouth, which you grant him.

heeseung suddenly pulls onto your necklace, pulling you away from jake to look at him. a mischievous smirk plays on his lips and it only intrigues you more into what this night has to offer.

heeseung’s hands grab your shoulders and pull you so you’re on all fours, your face eye level with ihs hard, pretty cock. you feel jake’s hands on your back, trailing down and hooking onto your shorts. your boyfriend easily takes off your shorts, leaving you in only your panties. jake’s hand smooth your ass before he delves into your pussy, eating it out from behind.

you’ve always loved jake’s tongue. it never took long for you to cum on jake’s tongue since he was so fucking good with it. he was always able to reach every spot of your pussy that would be able to make you feel so good. you moan out a curse with your boyfriend’s name, loving the way his tongue easily finds and circles your clit.

heeseung’s hands are on your face as soon as jake’s tongue enters your pussy, guiding your mouth to his hard cock. his cock is almost instantly in your mouth. heeseung’s hands landing in your hair as you try to take the most of him at once, wanting so badly to please your boyfriend’s best friend.

your moaning from jake’s tongue switching from fucking deep inside of you to swiveling around your enlarged clit. you can feel cold air on your pussy from how sloppy jake is making your pussy. he’s practically making out with it. your moans only further please heeseung as his dick drives further down your throat. your tongue doing circles around his member before sucking in your cheeks around his cock.

“oh my god, yes.” heeseung moans out, his head falling back onto his shoulders as you bob your head up and down his hard dick. “that feels so fucking good.” heeseung’s hands stay in your hair, helping you fuck his dick into your mouth.

you hear jake behind you taking off his jeans, not wanting his tongue to come off from your pussy. “you taste to fucking good too, baby. always.” you hear jake mumble and you imagine just how wet and glossy his lips must look right now, mixed with his spit and your juices.

jake’s hand slaps your ass and then grabs it, making you groan against heeseung’s cock. then his hands grab the inner part of your thighs, flipping you over onto your back and off of heeseung dick.

jake and heeseung start to undress themselves, and you struggle to find where to look. your boyfriend’s body is athletic and tan, meanwhile his best friend’s is pale and lean. both of them are beautiful and you can’t believe what’ about to happen.

“do you want to go first, seungie?” jake asks heeseung with a smirk.

heeseung glances at you and when he meets your desperate look he agrees. jake and heeseung switch spots and heeseung pushes your legs up. he’s more rough with you than jakes and you love it. heeseung puts one of his knees beside your body on the bed and the other remains on the floor as he stands. jake crawls onto the bed so he’s sitting beside your head, his hard dick hanging around your face.

“condom?” heeseung glances up at you both as he’s about to put his dick inside of you.

“baby?” jake glances down at you for an answer.

“it’s fine, i wanna feel you raw.” you tell heeseung, trying not to laugh at heeseung’s face when you reply. jaeke only laughs and leans over your face to peck your lips.

heeseung doesn’t hesitate to slip his cock into your wet pussy, groaning as your walls begin to grip his cock. you can’t help the moan that falls from your lips when heeseung lifts one of your legs onto his shoulder, his hands holding you down onto the mattress on your ribs. his cock quickly finds a drilling pace, and fucking you roughly.

jake’s hand circulates your throat, successfully blocking your oxygen as heeseung quickly pounds into you. his cock even feels different as he slides in and out of you. it curves less than jake’s does, but it’s veins make sure to rub perfectly against your walls.

you keep eye contact with jake as his best friend fucks you and his hands around your neck.

heeseung’s fingers quickly enter your opened mouth, collecting your saliva before his fingers are emeting your clit and roughly circling it like jake was doing earlier.

“oh my god, hee!” you cry out, eyes switching back and forth from jake and heeseung.

“yeah? does his cock feel good, y/n?” jake’s voice is deep as he asks you, fingers tightening around your throat as you try to nod. “like feeling another man’s cock deep inside of you?” his fingers completely let go for you to speak verbally now.

“y-yes, jake, feels so good.” your voice is shaky and out of breath.

jake leans down and kisses you while heeseung’s pace does not let up. his fingers practically sliding around your pussy as his cock continues to pound into you from and upwards angle.

one of jake’s hands is squeezing and tweaking your nipple, while the other one is keeping your head up so you can acth heeseung fuck into you. you’re trying to not let your eyes keep rolling into the back of your head as heeseung starts hitting your g spot everytime he pushes into your wet walls.

heeseung drops your leg, letting it encircle his waist now. at the movement, jake decides to press the tip of his cock against your lips, waiting for you to open your mouth. when his dick enters your mouth he doesn’t hold back from the groan he releases. “fuck, yes.” your boyfriend's voice is guttural as you suck your cheeks in to surround his cock.

“i want you in my pussy too, jake.” you look up at him through your lashes, your neck moving to wet your boyfriends dick. at the mention, heeseung pulls out of you, and jake follows so they’re switching positions.

jake’s lifting your leg up with his hand, pushing it so your knee is towards you and he so so easily slips his dick inside of you. heeseung’s at your head, kissing your forehead softly, so much different than how he was pounding into you a second ago.

“did so well for me already, baby.” heeseung’s whispering into your hair, making you moan out at his words and jake’s dick finding your g spot instantly. jake’s cock curves more than heeseungs, and he knows your body so well already that your g spot easily findable.

jake’s thumb starts rubbing your clit as fast as he’s pushing in and out of you. heeseung’s switching from watching your boyfriend fuck you to watching your face contort up into pleasure. heeseung’s hand wraps around your throat again as he nods at you, understanding how good you must be feelings.

“you look so fucking good, our good girl.” heeseung speaks to you, his voice raspy and it turns you on more.

“oh god, yes!” you cry out, your back arching from the pleasure, “don’t stop! don’t stop!” it’s hard to speak with heeseung’s hand wrapped around your throat but you don’t mind, just needing to tell them to not sotp as the pleasure was building in your stomach.

you hear jake moaning out softly as he fucks into you at a steady pace now, his thumb not stopping on your clit either. “god, your pussy’s so tight, baby, yes.” his words make you clench around him more as they go straight to the coil in your stomach. you love the attention from both sets of eyes, both of them wanting to make you feel good, both of them not leaving your side as the pleasure continues to build and build.

jake drops your leg, his hand reaching for your breast again, knowing how you love your tits played with during sex. heeseung’s hand leaves your throat and starts to guide his dick into your mouth gently, wanting you to be prepared for the incision. as his dick enters your mouth he lets out a quiet, deep groan. a groan that you would’ve missed if you weren’t paying such close attention to him.

you let heeseung start to fuck his dick into your mouth at his own pace. so now jake and heeseung are using both of your holes, pounding into you at the same time. jake’s grip is on your rib cage as he starts pulling youd own to meet his thrusts.

“oh my god, baby.” jake’s eyes roll the back of his head as he watches you get your mouth fucked by his best friend.

heeseung pulls his cock out of your mouth, loving the way a string of your saliva and his precum connect his cock to your lips before his breaks. jake pulls his dick out of your hole completely. you watch lazily as he bends down and starts to tongue fuck your pussy again. you moan out his name at the realization that he’s eating your juices and his and heeseung’s precums all together.

“just like that,” you let out tiredly, the pleasure making your eyes roll to the back of your head again. you feel heeseung push your hair out of your face and then he’s mocking jake’s position earlier and holding your head up so you can watch your mouth messily eat you out.

you see jake’s tongue swipe in and out of your folds and his mouth, his eyes closing as he fully concentrates on making you feel good. “that’s it baby, tell jakey how good he makes you feel.” heeseung speaks into your ear.

“feels- feels so fucking good, jake. please.” you tell him desperately, moving your hips against his face now.

heeseung presses kisses into your neck and presses lazily. and jake responds with a deep groan against your heat, making you jut your hips into his mouth at the vibration.

jake stands up, setting the pace for heeseung to stand up again, and then both of them are re-entering your holes. they find a pace quickly which you allow them too as you lay there, pleasure taking over your body and mind.

your shared bedroom is full of swears, moans and groans as the three of you are being taken over by the pleasure you’re all giving and receiving. the room smells of sex and sweat and neither of you feel as if you're even close to being done. you see jake cover his mouth with his hand, a sign that he’s close but trying to put off. and heeseung’s eyes are completely closed as he continues to fuck his hard dick into your mouth. he loves the way you just know to circle your tongue around his tip every time he stalls at the back of your throat.

heeseung pulls out, giving you some time to breathe as jake continues to thrust his cock into you. you don’t notice him looking around your room, but feel him get off the bed. “hey, what’s this?” heeseung asks and jake stops fucking into you. you swallow harshly before turning to look at heeseung who’s now holding your vibrator that’s plugged into the wall.

jake breathlessly lets out a laugh as he glances from heeseung to you, “do you want the vibrator, baby?” you nod in response, hearing heeseung’s laugh match jake’s.

“how about you show me how you like to use it then?” heeseung asks into your ear. he’s holding your vibrator over your body, letting you grab it from him.

as you turn on the vibrator, the noise fills the bedroom. jake slips out of your pussy and you shiver at the feelings of your walls clamping over nothing. heeseung and jake switch spots again. now your boyfriend is at your head and his best friend is in between your legs.

when you let the vibrator hit your clit, a loud moan escapes your mouth from sensitivity. your whole body arches forward, and it’s jake grabbing your hair that pulls you back so you’re flat against the mattress. you hear both of them laugh at your reaction, but you feel too good to say anything.

you feel heeseung start to push his dick into your pussy again, along with the vibrator pressing straight onto your clit. jake leans down, giving you a deep kiss as he jerks his cock off with a free hand.

“oh-oh my god,’ is all you can say over and over and over again as heeseung starts to push short and deep thrusts into your pussy with his cock. jake’s other hand massages your tits again.

“fuck, you look beautiful, right now.” heeseung tells you, his hands holding onto the underneath of your thighs for support as he fucks into you. the vibrator threatening to make you cum at any second now.

“feels, so- so good,” you repeat yourself and can only see jake’s sly smirk as he looks down over you.

“yeah?” jake speaks to you, “my baby feels good with seungie’s dick inside of her?” when you nod jake presses a kiss into your head, “yeah? almost like you’re a slut.” your walls clench around heeseung’s cock and it makes him jerk forward harder into you, a straight chain of events. “say you’re our slut.”

you have to gulp down the salvia in your mouth before you can speak, “i’m your guys’ slut.”

heeseung groans at how obedient you are, your juices pooling out and around the bed sheets now.

“then if you’re our slut you can take both of us, right? i know you want both of us in your tight little pussy.”

“oh god, jake!” you cry out, your hand coming to clasp onto jake’s arm that’s holding him up over you. “yes! i want it!”

“heeseung, stop.” jake commands the other man, which he immediately does. you take the time to glance at heeseung’s face. his black hair is pushed out of his face, and there’s sweat dripping down his forehead. his pupils are dilated from pure pleasure. heeseung slips out of you as jake begins to lay down. “c’mere, baby.” jake grabs your sides and helps pull you off of your back and so now you’re sitting atop him, his cock lazily pressing against your pussy. “you really wanna take me and seungie?”

“yes, please.” you start grinding down onto his cock, “want it so bad.”

jake throws his head back at your response and groans.

“okay, baby, sit back on my cock for me.” you lift yourself like jake says, and sit down again with his cock positioned into you. you both groan as his cock slides deep up inside of you. he fucks into your slowly for only a few thrusts, wanting you to get comfortable with the position. “okay, hee, c-come here.” jake stammers as he feels your walls clench around him at the thought that heeseung will also be inside of you.

you feel heeseung crawl behind you, and you gasp for a moment when you feel his cock start to push beside jakes.

“it’s okay, y/n.” heeseung whispers from behind you, pressing a kiss into our shoulder, “remember our safe word?” when you nod heeseung presses a kiss into your neck and biting, making sure to lick the spot after to make you shiver.

heeseung starts to push more and more into you, the stretch is a lot, even though both boys are doing their best to distract you. jake’s got his thumb pressing soft circles into your clit, and heeseungs biting and licking every spot possible on your neck and shoulder.

with a final pop into your pussy, heeseung enters and it makes the three of you hiss together. the two of them continue trying to distract you until you’re nodding and telling them to move.

they move slowly at first, together. their dicks rubbing against the others and your wet walls. it feels so dirty and sloppy but you love it. everytime they push in a loud wet squelch comes from your pussy, showing just how wet your pussy is. jake’s hand leaves your clit and instead massage and tweak both of your nipples, making you throw your head back onto heeseung’s shoulder. but jake’s previous hand on your clit is replaced by heeseung, and then you’re truly being stimulated everywhere.

you start to meet their thrusts, wanting so badly to finally come undone, together with them.

it only takes a few more thrusts from the three of you as one to get you to come. your words being mixed with moans and their names as you’re telling them to not stop. the orgasm is hard when it hits you from being built up so many times to just not cum. from so long of taking each of their dicks and tongues the orgasm finally snaps and it’s making you feel so fucking good wrapped between your two favourite people.

your orgasm makes your walls tighten and get even more wet, which triggers heeseung’s and jake’s orgasms as well. you feel both of their dicks twitch against each other in your pussy as he slowly thrust into you and then their cum as well. it’s so dirty as the three of your cums mix together in your pussy walls, but it only turns you all on more.

when they stop moving, you finally flop over, both of their dicks slipping out of you and making you cringe at how empty you feel. but the tiredness soon takes over and you can’t do anything about it. you feel both of them moving around on the bed. and you hear them whispering and moving around the bedroom. you feel kisses on your shoulder, and then warmth of a blanket being pulled over your body. you’re too tired to physically smile, but you’re definitely smiling in your head before sleep consumes you from being so mentally and physically exhausted.

the soft morning light filtered through the curtains, gently casting a warm glow over the bedroom where you lay nestled between jake and heeseung. as you slowly stirred awake, you felt a comforting sense of love and security enveloping her.

and some pain from the night before.

you blinked your eyes open, the events of the previous night flooding your mind. you glance at jake, his peaceful face inches away from your own, and then at heeseung who was still gently sleeping beside you. a smile tugged at the corner of your lips as you realized the feelings you had all explored together the night before.

jake stirred as he felt your gaze on him. his eyes met hers with a sleepy and loving smile on his lips that you love so much. “good morning, pretty.” his voice is raspy when he speaks.

“morning, baby.”

heeseung began to stir, his eyes fluttering open as he adjusted to the new morning light. he met your gaze and a soft smile spread across his own face.

“morning guys, how are you feeling?”

“sore, but happy.” you speak truthfully and laugh when both of them whine and apologize for your pain.

jake reached out, intertwining his fingers with yours, “i had a lot of fun last night guys, i’m glad we did it.”

“me too,” you reply instantly and both of you turn to heeseung.

heeseung chuckles, “yeah, me too.” he reaches over and pushes your fallen hair out of your face.

“would you guys want to do it again?” jake asks you both, almost shy.

heeseung nods and then turns to you, “yeah i would,” you reply honestly, “but not right now because i am still so so tired.”

both of them lean in and kiss your checks, all of you giggling together with a promise of a next time, and next time after that, and a next, next time after that.

but for now, you all huddled in close, forming a warm, cuddle of warmth and pure affection. in that moment, all of you were aligned, and you all shared something special. you all felt a sense of peace and contentment while you allowed yourselves to drift back to sleep, your bodies intertwined and hearts connected. the soft rhythm of your breathing even out together.

as you surrendered to the embrace of peaceful sleep, you found solace in the knowledge that you were surrounded by love, acceptance and a shared commitment to one another’s happiness. and together, the three of you would continue to explore your relationship, whether your actions from the night before complicated it or not. together, you will allow yourself to bloom and grow, caring for each other with understanding, and cherishing every moment of your special connection with your boyfriend and his best friend.

@ taeghi, 2023. do not repost or reuse in anyway.

PLEASE REBLOG IF YOU ENJOY, AS LIKES MAKE IT HARD FOR WORK TO BE SPREAD AND ENJOYED BY OTHERS :)

stay safe everyone :)

#smut #enhypen #enhypen smut #jake smut #heeseung smut #jake #heeseung

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bleuside97 · 7 months

Text

That Night Was Different

paring: richclubowner!Jungkook x lonely reader

genre: one night stand au smut

summary: looking for excitement you unexpectedly found someone who gave you everything you had wished for.

warnings: smut, n*pple play, coochie eating, praising kink.

This month was no doubt one of the most difficult for you. You maintained a stable position in retail that provided you with a satisfactory income, just enough for taking care of your bills. Unfortunately, it was announced to you that due to some financial struggles, the company had to let some employees go, including you. As a strong and resilient woman, however, you refused to give up and started looking for other jobs. But no luck seemed to be on your side, and to make matters worse, your landlord raised the rent. So, overwhelmed by all the stress, you decided to head to a young upscale club called "Dionysus." in Central Seoul, South Korea. To have some drinks to forget all your worries for a while. You've been coming here everyday for a month. The same night every night.

On a cold Saturday night you were sitting alone at the bar. "Alone yet again." Y/n muttered under her breath to herself. Being an introvert for so long has had its benefits but right now you were met with the down sides. In such an uplifted environment you couldn't help but feel drained. You didn't know why but you suddenly didn't want to be there anymore. Your eyes advert to the sixth shot glass you ordered and just been placed in front of you. For a moment you only stare at the alcohol. "You'll be the death of me." You say before gulping the bitter substance down your throat. It burns your esophagus and makes a quick disgusted face before slamming it down on the rough wooden table.

Your eyes gleam with wonder as you observe the recently developed nightclub. With its large dance floor shining brightly in neon lights and illuminated by spotlights and a shimmering disco ball, the atmosphere practically oozes excitement. All around, drunken and flushed bodies move along to the beat of the thumping music; jumping and swaying in a joyous and carefree manner. You can't help but smile along with them. The vibrant, pounding sound resonates within your body, making your heart beat faster. You don't know what it is, but a sudden urge compels you to take a leap of faith and join the others on the dance floor, letting the infectious music guide your body.

The rhythm of the song shifted into a captivating, slow melody. Deliberately, you began to move with a seductive grace, allowing your hips and legs to sway freely, independent of any outside influence. Your arms glided slowly down your body, accentuating every curve. Suddenly, you could feel the presence of another body behind you. His hands lightly gripped your waist, subtly indicating his presence without interrupting your movements. In perfect synchronization, his hips matched your pace, creating an unspoken harmony. Your gaze was drawn to his muscular arms, belonging to a handsome man with an olive complexion. He pulled you closer, intensifying the connection, inviting you to feel his undeniable presence. Maintaining a steady rhythm, you bit your lip, longing for increased tension. His hands on your hips guided you as he turned you to face him.

It was like a fantasy come to life, as you gazed upon this breathtaking man. With long, black locks framing his chiseled features and captivating doe-shaped eyes, he exuded an aura of charm and allure. His tight-fitting shirt showcased his sculpted chest, the muscles beneath emphasizing his strength. Utterly captivated by him, you were unable to look away. Sensing your reaction, he smirked, radiating confidence. His right hand glided from your hip, up along your side, until it reached the nape of your neck, holding you gently but with purpose. Leaning close, he whispered in your ear, "Come with me to my table."

Before you can even consider, your involuntary movements had agreed for you. You nodded your head, following closely behind him amidst the sweltering crowd of flushed bodies on the dance floor. The sensation of being amidst the flurry of the dance floor was something you had suddenly yearned for. The anticipation of what the night would bring fueled your excitement. A magnificent gold and velvet stanchion rope stood as a barrier at the entrance of the elevated section. Swiftly, the security personnel removed the rope, granting you both access. As you stepped into the new setting, you felt a sense of liberation. The section was occupied by individuals most likely of a similar age. Their closed and self-assured expressions hinted at their elevated status. You felt out of place amidst them. Jungkook found an unoccupied seat on the lounge chair and graciously offered it to you. In a relaxed posture, he placed one arm on the headrest of the couch while the other remained nestled in the space between his spread legs.

You settled down beside him, avoiding eye contact. In fact, you instinctively stiffened your posture on the couch as you sensed his piercing gaze. There was a slight eerie silence between you. "May I get you a drink, my dear?" he smoothly inquired, his gaze filled with thoughtfulness. "Pleasure meeting you I'm Jeon Jungkook." He removes his hand from between his hand and offers it to you. You take it. "Y/n." You say with a charming smile. "Y/n..." He holds your hand and kisses the back of your hand. "A beautiful name for a beautiful woman." The intensity in his eyes was undeniable. "I see something exceptional in you," he replied in a suave, charismatic tone. "To the extent that I believe you are the most stunning being I have laid eyes on in a considerable time." "Don't I feel like a rare gem amongst the ordinary?" you chuckled, amused by your own remark. "How do you justify deeming me special?" He smirked and playfully winked at you. "You are more than just a rare gem, my dear. You are the brightest star illuminating the entire night sky; your radiance is so captivating that it becomes impossible to look away. You are a true masterpiece."

Unimpressed you chucked, "Is this how you're gonna win me over?" Y/n scoffed shaking his head at the lame small talk. He smiles confidently in response. "I'm going to treat you to every wish of yours and to everything you could ever want. I want to show you the time of your life." He gives you another confident smirk. So you're a genie?" You sarcastically asked.

He chuckles confidently, not deterred by your sarcastic tone. "If I am, what wish would you make if I could grant it?" He asks as he leans forward slightly, his eyes twinkling with interest. She backs up a bit at his closer contact but remains quiet. "Oh come on, love," he says mischievously, giving your arm a squeeze. "Let me win you over." He smiles at you. "I know you like me already. So let me prove to you that I'm serious." "Oh. Such rumors don't exist." You turn looking away. He chuckles. "Oh you don't?" Jungkook asks with a sly smirk. "I know you're playing hard to get." His demeanor becomes confident once more. "You're playing this little game of cat and mouse as if I don't know exactly what you're trying to do." He gives you a playful wink to show that he knows you're playing along with him. "Let me be your man i know I can treat you like a princess. Tell me what you want and I'll give it to you." She gets up all close and personal to his beautiful face, "You know what I want." He looks at her with a mystery to her answer. "A night where I can have blissful fun and forget about my life, just for one night. I wish for the best night of my life."

He looked at her with a sad expression for a moment, a pause before answering. "I've been watching you for a while, y/n, I watch you come into my club every night for the past month. At the same time every night. I don't want you alone in your hard times." You stopped talking and just listened to him. He twists lip ring before continuing, "I'll give you an offer." You immediately shake your head. "Oh I'm not like that. No Thank you, sir."

You get up to leave but he pulls you back down. "Before I can tell you, Let me give me your wish, y/n." Y/n thinks for a moment. Wondering if this is the right thing to do? Who knows what she is getting herself into. Jungkook smirks at the kiss that you place on his hand. "I told you I'd make you feel something," he purrs. "This is just the beginning, love; I plan to show you many nights like these." He gives you a flirtatious wink and holds you closely against him. "Follow me," he says as he leans in close before pulling away. He motions with his hands to follow him and begins to walk out the door, motioning for you to follow him with his hand. Jungkook leads you from the bar and into what appears to be a private suit in his club guarded by security his best men. Before coming to a halt. The security grants him and you access. He unlocks the door with a key. Opening it to a grand suite. You are awfully impressed. "Close your eyes," he commands. "Trust me. You'll love what I have in store for you."

You close your eyes with hands unsure of this was safe. He doesn't waste time before he's kissing you sensually, licking your bottom lip asking for entrance. You open your mouth his tongue swirls around yours and fights for dominance as you let him have it. Spending some time making out, getting to know each other with your mouths he begins to kiss down your neck leaving open mouth kisses down your neck behind your ears occasionally nipping at it. He rips your dress and your bra and attacks your left boob. Sucking on your nipple and palming the other one in his other hand. “Hmm? You like this don't you?" His tongue begins to swirl around the nipple. You bite your lip and you have to force your eyes to look at the ceiling. Jungkook’s inked hand reaches down your lower back. His subtle touches leave a trail of shivers, until his pads brush over the slope of your ass. He squeezes your cheek, firm fingers kneading into your skin.

Leaving you breathless Jungkook's hand graze the sides of your body. As you continue kissing, Jungkook’s hands creep bare body up your thighs until your panties are revealed. His hands press further toward your inner thighs, and you gasp into the kiss when his thumb pushes against the seat of your underwear.They have been damp for a while now and you know he knows this, so you aren’t surprised when he breaks the kiss to smirk. With hon many times you see him smirk tonight it makes you want to punch him. "All for me?" He chuckles before removing your panties. He pushes you to the nearest wall and begins playing with your pussy. He spreads your wetness with his finger. Your hand on Jungkook's shoulder squeezing it when he brushes past your clit. His finger dwells there, putting pressure on your swollen clit. Then Jungkook’s hand is reaching for you again. He brushes a finger over your hole, and your body twitches from the sensitivity. He slides that finger through the wetness and then uses the lubrication to push only the tip of his finger in. he dips it in and out, teasing the nerves at your entrance. Your hips impulsively start to rock, a shaky whimper rolls past your mouth.

Then quickly transitions to his tongue is on your pussy. Using both his spread your cheeks open for better access. His tongue dives between your folds, inciting breathless whimpers from you. His head nudges your entrance. You inhale sharply ready for him inside you. He pulls out his cock out of pants and sdjust the tip to your entrance. Brushing the tip against your quivering hole. Jungkook pushes his cock inside "You can take it.” Jungkook’s hand finds your tit, firmly palming the smooth flesh. “You’re gonna take my cock like the good girl you are, right?” You only cry out in pleasure. He continues to thrusts deeply in you. “Damn, you feel so fucking amazing,” he grunts, a harshness surrounds his tone. Jungkook loses himself. He finds his rhythm and thrusts inside your pussy with sharp motions. “So fucking pretty.” A hand travels over your ass to your spine and back. “The prettiest girl,” he rasps. A smack on your butt was given. The pain leaving your walls clenching around his thick cock. He grops your breasts as you both reach your climax. Collapsing in your shoulder. He whimpers in your ear.

a/n: alot of mistakes and im not sure if i like it too much so i will be editing it alot tmrw but enjoy fkr now

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won4ver · 2 months

Text

✈︎ cherry lips

Heeseung loves the cherry aftertaste on your lips.

pairing : bf!heeseung x stoner!gn!reader

warnings + genre : established relationship. slightly suggestive at one part. kissing. weed. heeseung eats food from your mouth.

wc : 1.1k

a/n : can’t stop writing about heeseung. got this idea while listening to cherry waves by deftones. not rly sure what to tag this as lol

Entrancing silhouettes of indistinguishable shapes danced around the room in delicate pirouettes. Colourful amourous clouds broke apart in sequences of obscure bubbles- colliding in a mist of smoke.

A breathy giggle left Heeseung’s lips as he watched you exhale a new puff, a lazy smile gracing his lips as he admired your appearance from under his heavy eyelids.

The clouds of smoke surrounded you like a second skin, the coloured air around the two of you showcasing your complexion like a spotlight.

He watched the azure scene with a strange feeling creeping up through his pores, the sensation was almost akin to jealousy.

The blunt that you inhaled from moments before was now hanging loosely between two fingers, discarded to the side for a brief moment.

Low music played throughout the room, notes floating through the air as they collided with the smoke. Your rustic record player stood proud beside your vintage vogue magazines, the Saturday Night Wrists vinyl nearing its end.

Heeseung could feel his mouth fill with desire as your cleavage became more prominent with your leaning torso. Your outstretched arm reached across the table separating the two of you, long nails aiding you as your fingertips grabbed a small glass.

Even with his eyes closed he could’ve guessed what you reached for, cherries. In your words, cherries and weed are a stoner's wet dream. Heeseung would’ve never believed that hypothesis before he met you, but after getting a taste of your cherry lips he could do nothing more than agree.

Lee Heeseung wasn’t a stoner but he was fully prepared to drop thousands on bowls if it meant that he got to witness said wet dream. Nothing tasted better on his tongue than the combination of his three new favourite things; you, the aftertaste of weed on your lips, and the secondhand cherry juice.

He watched with bated breath as you lifted the crimson fruit to your lips, knuckles tightening as you seductively bit into the saturated flesh.

He could practically feel the juice of the cherry run down his chin, an exact mirror the the sight he was salivating at. His eyes zeroed in on the sweet nectar slip from the corners of your lips.

He could feel your eyes staring through him as your tongue slowly peaked out, licking the juice collecting on your lips. His pants tightened as the fruit tainted your skin in a layer of red tarnish.

You placed the stem back into the glass, purposely avoiding putting it against the other untroubled ripe fruit. You tried to keep the sky smile from falling on your lips when you noticed your boyfriend's eyes following your hand. You successfully kept it at bay before you gave him your best innocent look, pouting your lips with the cherry still sitting on your tongue.

“It’s too messy” You whined, your little act hypnotizing him tenfold compared to the mystic clouds. You knew he bought your act the second he stood up from his spot, lazily walking around the small table separating the two of you within seconds.

He dropped down beside you, the entire right side of his body touching yours as he threw his arm around the back of the couch. “C’mere, I’ll take care of it” He widened his legs, manspreading enough to accommodate your body.

He motioned for you to get up with two fingers, quirking an eyebrow at you in confirmation. You slowly stood up, your tights cladded knees replacing the spot you were sitting in.

The blunt in your fingers was passed over, now between Heeseung’s lips as he inhaled.

You sat your body against Heeseung’s, leaning your shoulder against his broad chest as you sunk into his embrace.

You leaned your head against his collarbone, cheek squishing against his bare skin as a quiet sigh left your lips. Eyes closed for a brief moment as your high reached a pause.

Heeseung could feel your jaw moving as you chewed the cherry, your small bites warming his chest as the intimacy of the situation settled within him. He removed the blunt from his lips, putting it in the hand that was wrapped around your waist.

He raised a hand to grab the cup out of your hand, placing it against your legs that were spread across his own. He brought it up to your lips, putting it directly under your lips, “Here baby, spit it out.”

The small cherry core pushed out from between your lips, landing into the cup with a small thunk. “Want more” Heeseung bit his lip as you requested more, thoughts running wild due to the proximity between your lips and his own.

Heeseung just hummed, fingers plucking out the best-looking cherry, placing it against your lips without a word. Your red doe eyes stared up at him as you opened your lips, teeth closing down around half of the cherries surface.

Since you were now laid up against him, Heeseung now had the perfect sight of the red trail racing down your chin. He tutted as he saw you preparing to lick it off, small sounds of disapproval leaving his lips, “do I need to teach you how to share?”

Before his question could raise any confusion in you, Heeseung brushed his nose against yours as his head tilted for a new angle.

His eyes closed in pleasure as his tongue connected with the sweet juice, his tongue licking the line off your face.

His lips replaced his tongue as it reached your lips, only using his tongue to separate your lips to accommodate his tongue.

A small moan left his lips as he took the cherry from your tongue and onto his own, pulling away from you as he chewed the fruit.

At this moment he was almost completely certain that he’d never tasted anything sweeter, the taste of you and the cherry mixing in a satisfying blend.

“You taste so good, my favourite taste” he whispered to you, eyes opening to see your shocked expression. He playfully winked at you as your face morphed into anger when you felt the absence of the cherry on your lips.

“You stole my cherry?” You didn’t mean for it to come off as a question, the disbelief growing as your boyfriend once again hummed.

“Of course I did, cherry. Your lips tasted too sweet, I needed more” He brought the blunt up to your dropped jaw, placing it against your bottom lip.

“Come on, don’t you want more?” He used his thumb to close your mouth, nodding to you as he saw you inhaling. “Good girl, now open your mouth” He pulled your chin down, putting his lips across from yours as he maintained eye contact.

“Shotgun me”

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cupid-styles · 7 months

Text

the first date

a sugar daddy h blurb!! in which harry just wants to show mia how much he adores her, but it turns out they both have some reservations to hash out.

word count: 2.5k

content warnings: none! a little bit of angst but all gets solved in the end<3 lmk if you wanna see any other blurbs from these two ! :)

masterlist | talk to me

"Mia—"

"No."

"Mia—"

"No."

"Please?"

Mia lets out of a huff as she pulls her legs into her chest. For the past hour or so, Harry's been trying to convince her to let him take her out on a date — in his words, their first official date, despite going out to dinner the night that they met.

It's not that she doesn't appreciate the way Harry tries to woo her and constantly make her feel special, but it can get so overwhelming, especially because he's him. Gorgeous Harry with a stupidly perfect face, a stupid amount of money, and, for some reason Mia's yet to understand, a stupidly large crush on her.

Over the past month or so as they've begun seeing each other more seriously, Mia and Harry have been content with their little routine of cooking dinner at his place, watching crime shows, and the occasional event Mia will accompany him to, but Harry's a romantic. He wants more, especially since he hasn't even asked her to be his girlfriend yet. He wants to show her everything she deserves.

And, unfortunately for her, she can hardly resist that little puppy dog pout he does, and it makes her want to lean over and smush her face into his feather-filled pillows.

"If I say yes, I don't just wanna sit at dinner or whatever it is rich people do," Mia says, tucking her bottom lip between her teeth.

Harry chuckles at that and wraps a loose arm around her shoulders, bringing her back into the comfort of his side. As usual, while her words have a bite, her actions never do.

"So, what you're saying is... you want me to plan something special for you?"

Mia rolls her eyes before pushing her face into the crook of his neck. She inhales quietly, letting the musky, warm scent of his cologne invade her senses.

"I'll go on a date with you." she mutters into his skin.

"Hm?"

"I said," she removes her face from his neck just for a moment, repeating her words barely a decibel louder, "I'll go on a date with you."

Harry smirks and lifts a hand to run it through her hair, smoothing the messy strands. "You're cute. Thank you for humoring me."

"Mhm," she replies, pressing back into the gentle grasp he has at the back of her head, "Can we go to bed now?"

"Whatever you want, baby."

. . .

From: Harry🫀

Clear your schedule for tomorrow, please. I'm taking you out on that date you agreed to.

Less than 24 hours from Saturday, that's what Mia receives. In classic Harry fashion, his texts are always cryptic, a true showcase of their age gap. (She's been trying to convince him to use emojis more, but he's insistent on his claim that they're unnecessary. Still, he'll use the occasional red heart or smiley face, and it makes Mia's lips curl up into a small smile.)

They typically spend Friday evenings together, but tonight, he has some sort of work event that required his attendance, and Mia just didn't have it in her to pull on an uncomfortable dress and heels and pretend to laugh at his employees' jokes. She appreciates how understanding Harry is, and when she said she needed a night in on her own, he was more than happy to do that.

(After getting off the phone earlier that day, he also sent her $100 on Venmo with the description, Order yourself some takeout on me and make sure you get dessert, too. 🍰)

And her evening alone was actually quite nice — she sent Harry a picture of the dinner she ordered from her favorite diner, complete with a piece of cheesecake. She watched three episodes of Gilmore Girls, worked on her crochet project (a half-assed attempt at a scarf for Harry, but it wasn't going all that well), and basked in the scent of the pumpkin vanilla candle she snagged from the shops last weekend.

But now Mia's panicking. Because she was honestly banking on Harry forgetting about that date he insisted on taking her on, especially since their schedules are so busy. She should've known better — Harry never forgets a thing when it comes to her — and now it's 20 minutes past midnight, and she's trying to come up with some excuse to get out of it.

It has nothing to do with him. Truthfully. She adores spending time with Harry. He just... spoils her so much, and the thought of him setting up something official so he can do even more for her is enough to make her head spin. Even over the past month, Mia sometimes has gotten in her head and questioned why Harry was even interested in her. She didn't see what she had to offer the same way he did. On her worst days, she was just some girl eight years his junior who managed to get a lucky break.

Eventually, that's what she falls asleep thinking about. It's the only thing that calms her heart rate enough as she curls up on the couch, snuggling the sweatshirt Harry left behind a few days ago. She promises herself that it's just a fluke, that he'll realize he can find someone better, more mature, and on the same stature as him before the sun rises.

. . .

Mia is starting to realize that Harry knows her a little too well.

Because she doesn't say anything about her minor breakdown last night, and he still shows up to her apartment at half past 10 with coffee and a bagel from her favorite bakery. Not to mention, it's seriously out of the way for Harry (he lives in the opposite direction, so it's not like he stopped on the way over), and Mia has no choice but to swallow her insecurities down and wash them away with the iced pumpkin chai he brought her.

Harry's dressed in what she affectionally refers to as his "weekend clothes" — a stark difference from his typical suits and blazers during the week, instead opting for trousers or baggy jeans and soft cardigans. Meanwhile, she's still in her pajamas, zoning out and staring into space as she sips on her coffee.

Harry clears his throat from beside her, ripping her from her thoughts. "Are y'alright, Mi?"

"Hm?" she asks, turning to look at him with slightly widened eyes, "Yeah, I'm fine. Why?"

"Well, it's been 15 minutes and you haven't said anything. I know I make fun of you for rambling sometimes but I like to hear your voice, y'know."

She can tell that Harry's attempting to make light and she smiles gently, murmuring out, "Sorry, just tired."

"'s alright. Are you feeling okay enough to go on our date today?"

"Sure," she forces out, tucking the straw between her lips, "What are we doing?"

"That's a surprise, love," he says with a lopsided smirk. "Go ahead and get ready, hm?"

Mia nods and shuffles upstairs to her bedroom, willing herself to get rid of the negativity clouding her thoughts. She knows she's in a funk and she's not being fair to Harry and she wishes she could just flip a switch and be... better, somehow. She breathes deeply as she washes her face and swipes her skincare over her face, quickly getting dressed and meeting Harry back downstairs.

"Pretty girl," he coos from the couch, pushing his phone back into the pocket of his trousers, "Ready to go?"

She hums and follows him out, locking the door behind them and walking out to his sleek car. Mia knows it's an expensive one — it has all those nice features, like seat warmers and tinted windows — but she's never been a car person, especially if her modest Honda Civic is anything to go off of.

Harry's a good driver, and she's grateful for the way she feels just a little bit more at ease in the passengers seat of his vehicle. He plays soft indie music that she doesn't know but still finds comfort in, probably because it comes from him.

With his hand grasping her knee, he squeezes it gently as he pulls into the parking lot of their presumed destination. They pass a sign that reads botanical gardens, which makes Mia's heart warm. She'd mentioned a few weeks back that she'd been wanting to visit the gardens for the longest time but hadn't had time.

"We're here," Harry announces softly, putting the car into park. "I hope this is okay. You said you didn't want to go out to dinner and I know you wanted to come here before they close for winter."

Mia swallows, realizing there's a small lump forming in her throat. She clears her throat and nods, blinking owlishly — and if she's not entirely too off base, she thinks she notices the slightest twinge of nervousness in Harry's own voice.

"This is perfect, Harry," she murmurs, looking out the window to assess the plush mazes of greenery, an abundance of seasonal flowers seemingly everywhere. "Can we go in?"

He grins, making his eyes crinkle. "Yeah, we can go in."

In true Harry fashion, he pre-purchased the tickets earlier this morning, prepared as ever. Mia's breath hitches in her throat as they walk through the array of marigolds, mums, and chrysanthemums, her face in pure awe at the smattering of warm colors.

"D'you like it?" Harry asks quietly, catching the shell of her ear. The only other people visiting today are other couples and small families, quiet murmurs being exchanged so not to disturb the peaceful scenery.

"It's beautiful. Thank you so much for taking me, H."

"'Course," he wraps an arm around her shoulders, "Y'know I wanted to be a florist when I was younger?"

Mia looks up at him, a surprised smile on her lips. "Really?"

"Yeah. My mum had a gorgeous garden that I loved spending time in. She told me that I could make a living doing it and I became obsessed with idea of spending my days with flowers."

"That's so cute." she replies, giggling at the thought of a younger version of Harry, traipsing around the garden with his mom back in London.

Harry's steps pause as they pass a particularly bright bunch of hydrangeas. He pulls his phone out of his pocket and Mia shuffles to the side, assuming he wants to photograph the flowers.

"What are you doing, baby?" he asks, "I wanna take a picture of you in front of the flowers."

"Oh." Mia mumbles, making Harry chuckle. He playfully guides her to stand besides the white and blue-hued flowers and raises his phone up, peering over his sunglasses to see better.

"Smile, sunshine."

She giggles and flashes him a quick grin before quickly stepping around him, grabbing his phone out of his grasp.

"Your turn, old man," she smirks, switching spots with him.

"Old man, huh?" Harry teases back as he crosses his arms over the expanse of his chest. "That's not what you were calling me when we were—"

"Okay!" Mia exclaims, passing his phone back to him after taking a few quick pictures, "Let's keep walking, hm?"

He lets out a loud laugh, ducking his head back slightly as Mia scurries away. He's fast in catching up with her, hooking his arm through hers with a playful twinkle in his eyes.

"You seem more at peace here," Harry notices lowly. "I know you said there wasn't, but... was there something bothering you this morning?"

Mia swallows nervously. She knows the switch in her energy was apparent, mainly because the nerves had effectively faded away when she saw Harry's casual planning of their date. She also knows it wouldn't be fair to continue acting as if everything was fine, when she'd nearly talked herself into a tizzy the night before.

"I just get overwhelmed, I think."

Harry nods. As they approach a bench, he stops their leisurely pace, sitting down on the faded wood. He pats the spot next to him and wordlessly encourages Mia to sit.

"Overwhelmed about what?"

She sighs, "Not... not you, exactly, but maybe your lifestyle. I have a habit of convincing myself that this is all a joke. You're so much more established than me, and I just feel like you'll eventually find someone who actually matches you so much better than me."

"Mia," Harry croons through a concerned expression, "That's not true at all. Just because of our... age difference, and yeah, I know we're in different places in life, but... that wouldn't deter me from being with you. Ever."

"I was just nervous about today," she mumbles with a shrug, "I love that you enjoy taking care of me and doing nice things for me, but sometimes it does feel a bit... much."

"What would you qualify as being too much?" he questions, nibbling his nails, "Sending you money for dinner? Paying for your nails? Your bills?"

Mia smiles gently at his immediate worrying, placing a hand to his thigh for a semblance of comfort. "All of that is wonderful, H, and so, so helpful. But... maybe the weekly flower deliveries... and you definitely don't have to send a car to take me to your place whenever we have plans. There's also no need for me to get a new dress every time I accompany you to a work event."

Harry nods, a perplexed look on his face as if he's mentally checking off boxes, ensuring that he keeps track of her asks.

"Okay. I can do all that. Am I... doing anything else that's making you uncomfortable?"

Mia's stomach immediately twists into knots, a sharp pang of hurt shooting through her body. She turns to look at the wounded expression on Harry's face and she wants to grab his cheeks and smush them together, promising that she's here, she just can't quite verbalize that right now.

"You're not making me uncomfortable, Harry, not at all," she rushes out with a shake of her head, "I just... I don't know. Maybe I want to level the playing field a little? I know when we started this we were different, but... I don't want it to feel like that. Does that make sense?"

He nods slowly, the cogs turning in his brain as he processes her response.

"Yeah. I'm sorry if I was overcompensating at all. I just want you to be happy, Mi."

For the first time, she can see the insecurity radiating through his facial expression. His eyebrows are pulled together and a small frown curls at the edges of his lips as he picks at the skin surrounding his nails. It's then that she realizes: She's not the only person in this relationship that's feeling it. He's scared of losing her, too.

"I am happy, Harry," Mia says, willing her voice to sound as strong and confident as she feels. "With you, I'm so happy."

He looks up at her, his eyes slightly widened. "Really?"

"Of course. I love spending time with you, going to events as your date, hanging out at home together. I wouldn't change a single thing about us, H."

Harry grins at that, reaching forward to intertwine the fingers together as his posture straightens. "I feel the same way. I really like you, Mia. I... I want you to be mine. My girlfriend."

Her heart warms at the admission. She ducks down to catch his lips in a kiss, firm but soft, a silent gesture of mutual affection.

"I'm already yours, Harry."

#writing #harry styles blurb #Harry styles #harry styles one shot #harry styles fan fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fic #harry styles imagine #fanfic #harry #harry styles fanfiction #Harry styles x reader #harry styles oneshot #harry styles smut #Harry styles fluff #harry styles writing #harry styles angst #sugar daddy h #Harry styles x you

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luvkyu · 6 months

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rivals ( lee donghyuck/haechan ) part one

donghyuck x male!reader

maybe donghyuck's school rival isn't as bad as he thought?

content : 2k words, angstish/fluff at the end, high school!au, academic rivals trope, toxic parents ( reader's ), just a little crying ( reader ) but hyuck is a sweetheart about it so it's fine <333

( a/n ) only proofread once :[ part two will be out hopefully soon

part two

"haechan."

"..haechan?"

"lee donghyuck!"

donghyuck snapped out of his trance, turning his head toward his deskmate.

"huh?"

"class is over," jaemin said with a small snicker. he exchanged glances with jeno, who now stood beside his desk while clutching his bag over his shoulder.

"staring daggers at y/n again?" jeno teased.

donghyuck clicked his tongue in disgust as he looked back at y/n.

"he's top of the class again. he's a menace."

"pfft," jaemin scoffed, "he's a menace? he literally just studies and basically never talks. he's the opposite of a menace. he's actually very nice."

donghyuck only gave his friend a side eye in response.

"he's nice?" jeno asked, genuine.

"mhm! he lended me some money for lunch last week. he hasn't talked to me since, or asked me to repay him."

"he's a menace," donghyuck insisted. "next test, i'll get top of the class for sure. and he'll be stuck with second."

"that's what you said last time.." jeno muttered.

"hey!-"

"guys!" renjun's voice suddenly infiltrated their classroom. "you're like, the last ones left in here. c'mon."

"tsk." donghyuck gently flicked jeno's head as he stood up and gathered his books. jaemin laughed again, the three of them finally leaving with renjun.

y/n still sat at his desk while slowly packing up his bag, actually the last student left. a small smile tugged at his lips as he thought about what he'd overheard.

"haechan is very loud for such a gentle looking person," he mumbled, before snickering.

"n/n!"

y/n looked up at the sound of his nickname. mark now stood in the doorway of his classroom, waiting for him.

"can i walk you home?" mark asked happily.

"you always walk me home."

mark smiled and nodded, "i know. but i still like asking."

y/n rolled his eyes. as his neighbor and best friend, mark was always very attentive to y/n. especially since all y/n ever did was sleep, eat, and study. mark always wished he'd be more social - he thought it'd do him some good to stop worrying about his grades so much. but y/n's parents would definitely disagree.

after walking for a while, the pair finally made it to their neighborhood. y/n seemed way too in his head today, and it made mark worry even more.

"are you coming to the dance showcase tonight? jisung and i have been practicing for weeks."

y/n sighed and shook his head.

"can't. i'm tutoring tonight. i'm sorry."

mark frowned at first, but quickly perked up.

"that's okay! i'll get someone to video it for you," he assured. "what about tomorrow? you can hang out since it's saturday right?"

"sure, that's fine. wanna see a movie or something?"

mark nodded eagerly, "love to!! we can go in the evening and you can stay the night at my place if you want."

y/n nodded and gave him a small smile.

"sounds good. good luck with your dance tonight, let me know how it goes."

"mm! see you tomorrow!" mark replied.

donghyuck walked into the local public library, a small prance in his step. he always enjoyed tutoring other students, as odd as that may sound.

he found a small table and began setting out his study materials while waiting for his tutee. the smile that had been resting on his face, however, did not last long. after looking up, he found that y/n was sitting at another table not far from his. he scowled under his breath.

"our teacher got the top students to tutor others, but we were supposed to find different places. tsk." he quickly stood from his chair and trudged over to y/n.

"..." donghyuck waited for y/n to look up from his book, but the male was stubborn. or maybe he just didn't care enough to spare donghyuck a glance.

"if you're going to speak, then speak. if not.." y/n spoke while making a shoo gesture with his hand. donghyuck's brows furrowed.

"why are you here?" he asked, not caring about the rude tone of his voice.

y/n finally looked up from his book. donghyuck was pretty, y/n would give him that, but that was about it.

"i'm tutoring chenle. and what about you? are you stalking me?"

donghyuck felt a surge of panic run through his body. "wha- no?! i'm supposed to be tutoring here. you go somewhere else!"

y/n simply gave the other a blank stare. "sure," he answered sarcastically. "i'll go somewhere else, stand up chenle, and he'll fail our next test. then it'll be your fault. you really wanna be the reason chenle fails? i thought you were better than that, lee donghyuck."

"you-.." donghyuck clenched his jaw.

"y/n..?" chenle's voice broke between the two. he gave a small, awkward bow as donghyuck moved aside.

"chenle! ready to get started?"

chenle nodded while looking nervously at donghyuck. he didn't like seeing him aggravated, nor did he wanna get in the middle of something between him and y/n.

"i can give you guys a minute if-"

"no," donghyuck stopped him, "we're done."

y/n sent donghyuck an insincere smile before watching him go back to his table to continue waiting for his own tutee.

their tutoring sessions lasted about two hours, and the whole time, donghyuck would steal disgusted glances at his rival. he kept wondering how jaemin could say he's actually nice.

"maybe he's not nice to you cause you always give him such a hard time," jaemin had once argued. donghyuck scoffed. no, that couldn't be it. y/n had to be the problem.

donghyuck looked up from the paper he was supposed to be reviewing. y/n had a kind smile on his face as he moved his pencil from question to question, explaining the answers to chenle.

"yeah, he's definitely the problem," he whispered in annoyance.

"huh?"

donghyuck perked up, remembering the pupil beside him.

"mm? oh, nothing! let's go over these."

his student nodded as donghyuck slid the worksheet over to him. donghyuck's eyes naturally drifted to y/n one more time before taking a big breath and beginning to review the paper.

rain.

it just had to be raining when y/n stepped out of the library to start his way home. he sighed and stopped under the last awning of the building.

"fucking great," he muttered.

taking his phone out, he scrolled down to his mother's contact which he had at first planned to call. but then, he thought, his parents were the last people he wanted to see or be driven home by. so with that, he began walking.

usually, walking home was no problem for y/n. it was around a twenty minute walk to his neighborhood from both school and the library, as the two were only a couple blocks away from each other. his walks gave him time to listen to music and enjoy the weather, or just to be on his phone without the prying eyes of his parents.

but today, y/n could already feel the rain starting to soak through his clothes. the water dripped down from his hair and onto his face, making him let out another sigh.

"maybe i'll get sick this weekend and have an excuse not to study," he hoped quietly. his small smile fell after thinking about it for a minute. "if i get sick, they'll blame me for walking in the rain, though."

crossing his arms, he walked faster and lowered his head. while watching his shoes slap the puddles on the ground, his mind kept wandering. he felt incredibly sad. he wished his parents could just be his parents, instead of borderline dictators. education didn't mean anything to him, and yet he tried so hard to be top of his class just to earn some kind of validation from them.

before he knew it, he was crying. not a heavy sob, just quiet tears that blended with the rain while the color of his eyes faded into a tint of red.

suddenly, the rain stopped hitting him. his brows furrowed. the drops were still hitting the ground around him, but he couldn't feel them.

"idiot. you'll get sick if you keep walking in this weather," donghyuck scolded. y/n looked up to see the male holding a black umbrella over themselves. as much as he hated donghyuck, he was freezing, so he took the offer and mumbled a quiet, "thank you."

donghyuck had never been this close to his rival. their shoulders were touching, and he thought he should've hated it, but instead there was a small, exciting spark running up his spine.

"why are you walking?" donghyuck asked. when y/n didn't answer, he leaned over to see the other better under their umbrella. his face dropped with the realization that y/n was crying.

"ah.." he stood back up straight, unsure of what to say now. he hated that he felt bad for someone he was supposed to despise. but y/n was, after all, just another person.

"are you okay?"

y/n scoffed as he wiped his tears. "if i said yes, i'd be lying."

donghyuck nodded and looked around a bit awkwardly. he never thought himself good at comforting people, but he'd definitely try.

"wanna talk about it?"

y/n suddenly stopped walking. he could feel the rain hit him again when donghyuck kept walking, taking the umbrella with him. he turned in surprise before hurrying back to y/n to shield him from the water.

"why are you being nice to me all of a sudden?" y/n asked.

donghyuck met his eyes, quiet. y/n's eyes looked tired and strained from his tears, but beautiful despite this. he almost felt entranced from his gaze.

"i dunno.." donghyuck mumbled, "you're just a person, right? regardless of whether i hate you or not. and i don't mind listening if you wanna talk."

y/n's lips thinned into a line as he thought about it. he looked down at his soaked shoes.

"i don't wanna go home," he muttered out.

donghyuck frowned. something was definitely wrong, but he'd feel wrong if he pried into y/n's home life.

an idea struck him as they arrived at a sheltered bus stop. he pulled y/n's arm and finally lowered the umbrella to sit him down on the dry bench. donghyuck could see that the male was beginning to shiver, his jacket turned to a darker drenched color.

"take that off," he said while tugging at the wet fabric of y/n's sleeve.

"what?"

"take it off. you'll definitely get sick if you keep that on. take mine," donghyuck said while holding his now discarded jacket out to his rival.

y/n's brows furrowed in concern. "but you won't have anything to wear.."

donghyuck shrugged, "i'm dry. and i like the cold. really, please take it."

y/n nodded and slowly took his jacket off. it felt gross to handle such a wet piece of clothing around his body, but the dry and heavy fabric of donghyuck's jacket quickly made up for it. he sat back and snuggled into it with a content smile.

"thank you."

donghyuck nodded and set the other jacket aside. he could tell y/n was trying to keep his smile at bay, but he decided not to pester him about it. what mattered was that he was safe and dry now.

"..why don't you want to go home?" he finally asked. y/n's smile faltered.

"my parents are home."

donghyuck didn't really understand, but he didn't plan on being any more nosy. he looked around and spotted a restaurant behind the bus stop, deciding to focus on that.

"have you eaten?"

y/n looked at him in slight confusion. "what?"

"have you had dinner yet? we can go eat together before you have to go home."

"where?" y/n realized right after he asked that it didn't really matter where. any place would be better than a house with his parents.

"maybe that place?" donghyuck answered.

y/n turned to see the restaurant donghyuck was pointing at. he'd actually been there a few times with mark, so he quickly nodded.

"yes please."

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shadowwingtronix · 7 months

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Saturday Night Showcase> American Dragon Jake Long

BW Media Spotlight's Saturday Night Showcase> American Dragon Jake Long

Created by Jeff Goode, American Dragon Jake Long is that other cartoon Donnie Basco is famous for voicing besides Avatar: The Last Airbender. This time he gets to be the hero, the title character of Jake Long, the latest “chosen one” who must protect and sometimes battle the secret magical underground of fantasy and mythological creatures hiding among the residents of New York City. Being an…

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#American Dragon Jake Long #Animated series #Cartoon #Disney Channel #Donnie Basco #kids TV #Saturday Night Showcase

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cherry-holmes · 7 months

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Glimpse of a life with Javier Peña (series)

Chapter 3

MAIN MASTERLIST

Summary: You found yourself in a complicated situation, but thankfully Javi is there for you.

SERIES MASTERLIST

Previous chapter

Pairing: Javier Peña x Female Reader

Word count: +3.5 k

Warnings: Swearing. Angst and comfort. Reader is attacked. SMUT. Male masturbation. Mention of P in V sex. Mention of fingering. Mention of oral sex (f receiving). Mention of hair pulling. Cumming inside implied.

A/N: Hi! Here's the third one! Hope you like it!

I'm taking requests!

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••Diego was quite a character. His jokes weren't as funny as Javier's, and he wasn't as enchanting, but, you know, he had his own charm. Kind of.

He was a military man, designated by the Colombian government to the DEA's search block as reinforcement. You had seen him with Javier and Murphy several times, working closely with them, going on raids, and capturing a couple of Escobar's sicarios.

He had a certain maturity about him, which was expected given his background, but there was also an air of smugness that occasionally crept through. Perhaps it was his confidence in his military training or the nature of the dangerous work he was involved in. Either way, it was clear that Diego was a capable and intelligent individual.

As you continued talking, you began to appreciate the depth of Diego's knowledge about the operations and the challenges faced by the DEA in their pursuit of Escobar. However, you also noticed that he was a straightforward and serious man. When you attempted to inject humor into the conversation, he either didn't catch it or chose to ignore it.

You couldn't help but compare your conversations with Diego to the ones you had with Javier. You missed Javier's sense of humor and the feeling that he genuinely listened and cared about what you were saying. In contrast, Diego appeared more focused on showcasing his job and emphasizing his importance in the Cartel's pursuit, as if he were trying to impress you. He rarely asked anything meaningful about you beyond work-related topics.

Despite Diego's competence and the insights he shared about DEA operations, it felt like something was missing in your interactions. You valued genuine connections and meaningful conversations, and it seemed that Diego's agenda was primarily centered around work. The stark contrast to your rapport with Javier left you with a sense of longing for the easy camaraderie you once shared.

Speaking of Javier, it seems like he's been avoiding you. You've caught him turning away when he spots you in the office kitchen, and even Diego mentioned that Peña appears to be taking on extra responsibilities during the raids, almost as if he's trying to keep his distance. You tried to ignore these facts, but your brain wasn't cooperating. Javier Peña lingered on your thoughts all the time.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

It was Saturday night, and you had just finished your pending work early. You had spent the day deciding whether or not to accept your friends' invitation for a drink at the bar to celebrate Marta's birthday. You weren't used to going to bars and drinking at night, especially when you were living alone in a foreign and dangerous country as it was Colombia in those times. But you did love dancing, and you were in the mood for a fun night with your friends.

You gathered your things, getting ready to go to Marta's office and let her know that you were joining them. However, as you were doing so, Diego knocked on your door.

"Hey, are you heading home?" he asked, leaning in your doorway.

"No, actually," you began, "It's Martha's birthday, and some people from her department are going for a drink." You hesitated and then added, "Would you like to come?" You asked him out of politeness, as he didn't seem like the type to enjoy that kind of environment. He could always decline, of course.

Diego shrugged. "Why not?" He didn't look convinced about it but didn't say anything more.

You weren't convinced either. He was nice, but you didn't feel like you had clicked with him. He was a very different person from you. However, you thought that at least that night, you wouldn't need to look for someone to dance with.

"Let's go, then," you finally said.

As you arrived at the bar, there were a lot more people from work than you had expected. You spotted your friends at the back and joined them.

After greeting your friends, you searched for an available chair. As your eyes roamed the table, you froze when your gaze crossed Javier's. He had just set his glass down on the table, and he looked equally surprised to see you there. He stared at you for a few more seconds before shifting his gaze to a point behind you, and then to Murphy. When you felt Diego's hand on your back, you knew exactly why.

The night began, and your friends engaged in lively conversations and laughter about various topics. However, you couldn't fully concentrate on the festivities. You kept locking eyes with Javier, who didn't seem to be enjoying the evening. According to what you overheard from Murphy, he had been somewhat coerced into attending.

As the night wore on, almost all of your friends paired up for dancing, including Steve Murphy, who had brought his lovely wife, Connie, to the dinner. However, your date seemed more interested in talking to a couple of his colleagues about his merits and exploits in the field than taking you out to dance. Diego had been drinking more than anyone else, even surpassing Javier, and now he was talking loudly and intensely. You felt uncomfortable and, honestly, embarrassed.

Even Javier, who wasn't dancing, had someone to converse with. It was Celia, a secretary with big blue eyes and long dark hair. There was a moment when she was asking the waitress for another drink that Javier looked at you with a peculiar expression. It was evident that he wasn't enjoying his company either. You offered a small smile but didn't attempt to interrupt their conversation. Celia seemed determined to conquer Javier that night.

After finishing your second margarita, you stood up and excused yourself to use the ladies' room. Javier gave a nod of acknowledgment, while Celia shot you a sharp look for interrupting her moment with her target. Diego, on the other hand, continued talking, seemingly oblivious to your departure.

You washed your hands, and while looking at your reflection in the mirror, you decided that you wanted to go home and get some sleep. You had made up your mind to approach Diego and ask him to take you home. Additionally, on Monday, when you returned to the office, you planned to thank Diego for his considerate attention but let him know that you weren't interested anymore. It was clear to you that this evening was not turning out as you had hoped.

But, to your unpleasant surprise, as you walked out of the bathroom, you felt a grip on your arm. Looking up, you saw Diego's drunken, angry eyes fixed on you. You froze in that moment and let him drag you through the sea of dancing bodies to the parking lot.

The cold air outside was a stark contrast to the hot and lively atmosphere inside, leaving you feeling vulnerable. You didn't know what was happening.

"Let me go!" You squealed, attempting to break free from his grasp. "What the hell is wrong with you?" you added as he finally released you, and he cornered you near his car.

"Do you think I'm stupid?" he asked, his words slurred from the alcohol.

"What? No... What are you talking about?"

Before you knew it, his hands were on either side of your head, trapping you between his body and his car, his rancid breath in your face. You instinctively shrank back, scared and confused about what was happening.

"You think I didn't see how you and that motherfucker of Peña were looking at each other?" he said, his tone furious. You had no idea where this sudden aggressive behavior was coming from. You had no idea what he was talking about. You had only exchanged a few words with Javier, and there was absolutely nothing inappropriate about it.

"Diego, you're completely mistaken," you replied, your voice quivering but determined. "There's nothing between me and Javier. We're just colleagues, nothing more."

Diego's eyes bore into yours, and for a moment, you feared he might not believe you. But then, his anger seemed to escalate, and he slammed his hand against the car window next to your face. You let out a startled scream.

"Do not fuckin' lie to me!" he shouted, his voice filled with rage. "You don't think I know about your little affair with him?"

Your heart pounded in your chest, and you were completely taken aback. "What? What affair?" you asked, your voice trembling.

Diego let out a bitter, humorless laugh. "Oh, don't play innocent," he sneered. "Don't act like a saint! I know that Javier fucked you for two weeks until he got bored."

Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment and anger. "Pardon me? We didn't, and if we did it's none of your damn business," you retorted, your voice firm. "Now let me go. I wanna go home."

"Oh, of course you're gonna go home," he said as he opened the door of his car and tried to force you to get in, "You're going home with me."

"Are you crazy? You're hurting me," you squealed, using all or you using all your strength to put up resistance, but he was much stronger than you. "No! Let me go!"

"You think you can play a teasing bitch and get away with that with me?" He groaned and you felt desperation creasing in you. "Get in the fucking car, NOW!"

You didn't know how you managed to turn around and connect your knee with his crotch, successfully freeing yourself and sprinting out of his reach. The adrenaline was surging through your veins as you made a desperate escape.

You were prepared to fight for your life, but as soon as you reached the outskirts of the parking area, you spotted Javier approaching. Relief washed over you, and you rushed toward him, not even minding the way your fists clenched his shirt as you looked at him with an imploring expression.

Javier gently took you by the arms, his eyes carefully studying your beautiful yet terrified features as he tried to make sense of your quivering mumbles. But a drunken and furious voice called your name from behind, sending a shiver down your spine. What happened next unfolded so quickly that you couldn't comprehend how things had escalated so fast.

Javier swiftly positioned you so that you were as far behind his body as possible. When you turned toward Diego, you couldn't help but gasp in surprise as you found yourself staring at the barrel of a gun pointed at you. In response, Javier, the trained agent he was, smoothly drew his own firearm from his back and aimed it at Diego. Your hands clung to Javier's arm, your fear palpable.

"Lower that weapon, Ibarra," Javier's voice was firm and composed, laced with an unmistakable warning. "Don't make a choice you'll regret, one that will ruin your life and your career."

Diego laughed sharply but lowered his gun. You realized he had drawn his weapon to threaten you, not expecting Javier's sudden intervention. You shuddered at the thought of what might have occurred had Javier not appeared when he did.

He stumbled back to his car and hastily departed the parking lot, the tires screeching on the pavement as the engine roared away. Javier, having holstered his gun, turned his attention back to you.

"You're shaking," he observed, removing his black leather jacket and draping it over your shoulders. "Are you okay? What happened?" His tone was filled with concern, but then he lowered his voice, sounding almost dangerous as he inquired, "Did he hurt you?"

You shook your head, unable to look at his face as you were still trying to process everything that had just happened. In the days you and Diego were talking, he had never shown any signs of aggression. It had taken you completely by surprise.

"Thank you, Javier, I..." you began, but a crack in your voice made you stop. However, you managed to swallow the lump that had formed in your throat and composed yourself. "I'm going to go home now. Thank you so much, really."

You were about to take his jacket off, but he gently placed his warm hands on top of your cold ones to prevent you from removing the fabric.

"Please, allow me to take you home," he said. "It's late, and you're still in shock."

"I'm fine," you responded, trying to catch your breath, which seemed to have escaped from your lungs. But you couldn't hold back the tears any longer; they rolled down your cheeks.

"Hey, it's okay now" Javier didn't know what to do. Should he hug you? His concern was evident as he gently touched your arm, offering support and comfort. "Take your time," he said softly, his voice laced with genuine care.

You nodded, appreciating his understanding. "I... I didn't expect any of this," you managed to say, still shaken by the recent events.

He gave you a reassuring smile. "I know. It wasn't your fault," he assured you. "C'mon, it seems like it's starting to drizzle."

"You don't have to worry about me, Javier," you began. "I really, really appreciate what you did for me, but I can take it from here. I'm gonna call a taxi."

"I know you're mad at me because I was a dick to you," he responded, "I'm sorry, okay?" he said, sounding a bit annoyed, but sincerity shone in his dark-brown puppy eyes. "I was rude to you, and I'm ashamed of that. Now, please, I can't let you walk home alone at night."

Javier couldn't believe that you actually looked down the dark, empty street to consider his offer, but he was patient. Then, you turned back to him, your teary eyes captivating him.

"Fine. Thanks," you said, and he guided you to his truck. Javier reached for the handle before you and opened the door for you, and you got in.

As you settled into the truck's passenger seat, you couldn't help but feel a mix of emotions. Fear and relief still coursed through your veins. Javier closed the door gently and walked around to the driver's side, getting in and starting the engine.

The sound of raindrops hitting the roof filled the cab as you both sat in silence for a moment, the weight of the recent events hanging in the air. You stole a glance at Javier, who kept his eyes on the road, his face reflecting a sense of responsibility and concern.

With a sigh, you finally broke the silence. "Javier, I appreciate what you're doing. I feel like I owe a big one."

He glanced at you briefly, his expression softening, his grip on the steering wheel relaxing slightly. "You owe me nothing, bonita," he said and you felt butterflies fluttering in your stomach, "I'm just glad you're safe."

He asked you where do you live and you gave him directions. After a couple of more minutes in silence, he talked again, "I really mean it, I'm sorry for treating you like that the other day." He stopped on a red light, and turned his face to looked at you, "You must know that I'm not an ass-hole... all the time," he added in a playful manner that actually made you smirk.

You watched the city pass by through the window, lost in thought. Finally, you couldn't help but ask the question that had been on your mind.

"Why do you care so much about what do I think about you?" you inquired, curiosity lacing your voice.

He get a bit nervous, but made his best to play it cool. He shrugged as if it was nothing. "I like you... I mean, as a friend." He clear his throat, and tried not to met your gaze, still very concentrated on the road. "Is it hard to believe?" He added.

"Well, you have quite a reputation, agent Peña," you replied.

"Do I?" He responded, still playing along. Javier was very aware of his reputation as a playboy and a heartthrob. He didn't care about that, until he met you. The thought brought a genuine smile to his face as he navigated the wet streets. He glanced at you briefly, his expression serious. "I don't know, to be honest," he admitted. "Maybe it's because you're different, and I didn't want to ruin what we had. I know I can be an ass sometimes, but that's not all there is to me."

You studied him for a moment, seeing a vulnerability in his eyes that you hadn't noticed before. "I appreciate you apologizing," you said sincerely.

When you arrived home, the rain had settled, but the air was cooler than earlier. "Thank you so much again, Javier," you said, and he shook his head gently.

"It's nothing," he answered. "If you allow me to recommend something, you should report him to Messina," he stated.

"I don't want problems..." you began, but he adjusted himself in his seat to leaned in closer, his expression becoming more earnest.

"I understand not wanting problems, but what happened tonight wasn't okay. Diego crossed a line, and he shouldn't get away with it. Reporting him is the right thing to do, I'll back you up."

You considered his words, knowing he was right. "I'll think about it," you finally replied.

"That's all I'm asking," Javier said, his concern for your safety evident in his eyes. "Does he know where you live?" You nodded, now concerned to remember that fact.

Javier leaned forward to reach the glove compartment. You could feel the warmth of his hands on your knee, but he didn't touch you. He took out a notepad and a pen to write his name and landline number, then handed it to you. "If you ever feel insecure or even if he appears right here, don't hesitate to call me. Day or night."

You accepted the paper with a grateful smile, touched by Javier's genuine concern for your safety. "Thank you, Javier. I hope I won't have to use it, but it's good to know you're there."

He nodded, a hint of a smile on his lips. "Take care, okay? And don't worry about Messina. She'll have your back."

With a final wave, you stepped out of the truck, and Javier waited until you safely entered your building before driving away. As you climbed the stairs to your apartment, you couldn't help but reflect on the unexpected turn of events that had brought you closer to Javier Peña again, a man with a reputation that didn't quite match the caring and protective side you had seen tonight.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

It wasn't the first time Javier lay on his bed and couldn't stop thinking about you. It wasn't the first time his wandering hands slid down his body and got lost inside his boxers, neither.

He just couldn't stop thinking about the shape of your lips and the way every single dress that you ware suits you so fine every time.

Maybe it was wrong to masturbate thinking of you, but he couldn't help get hard when his mind drive itself to that kind of thoughts.

Javier cursed as he reached for his nightstand and took out the bottle of lube he kept with his condoms. He applied it on his hand and covered his already hard cock, massaging up and down, as his mind played he most sensual scenes about you.

Oh, the things he would do to you. Javier would navigate your body, placing wet kisses all over you until he stopped on your sweet pussy and start licking your vulva and sucking on your clit. He would have you screaming his name. «Javi, Javi...», he would drag you to the edge, begging to cum on his mouth. Javier would use one, two, even three of his thick fingers to fuck you as you release your sweet honey on his tongue. Then, you will beg him to have his cock ball deep into your cunt.

Javier would like to have you on your fours, your nice ass up just for him as he fingering you again to keep your pussy dripping, soaking wet for him.

Then, he would give you want you deserve for being such a good girl for him. He would grab your hair between his fingers and pull it while his cock spread your inner walls. Your eyes rolling back, your breasts bouncing with every thrust as he whisper the filthiest things to your ears.

«You're such a nice girl, taking my dick so fuckin' well»

«Your pussy feel so good clenching around my cock»

«I'm gonna fill you with my cum, baby, te voy a marcar como mía. Eres mía.»

And you will cry out his name, over and over again until you come all over his cock. Your little pussy dripping his semen and your clit throbbing.

But he won't let you rest. No, he won't have enough of you. He would make you cum at least two more times, different positions, same pleasure.

«Just like that, Javi» you would cry, words fill with ecstasy. «¡No pares, Javi! Soy toda tuya.»

Then you would sleep on his chest, your delicate arms around his torso as he brush your hair with his fingers until he fall asleep too.

Javier masturbate with that thought until he came over his belly, whispering your name to the cold air.

NEXT CHAPTER

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say-al0e · 1 year

Text

Finally

Rating: M | This is smut! No one under 18! Minors, DNI!

Summary: You have a rule; don’t pursue any of the other regulars at your favorite bar. Rooster is a regular and one night, makes you question why you ever thought that rule was a good idea.

Warnings: Protected PinV, oral (fem rec), drinking, consent is hot, pre-TGM (set in VB). (Anything else, just let me know and I can tag it)

Pairing: Rooster x fem!Reader

Word Count: 5.7k

Top Gun Taglist | Top Gun Masterlist

The little dive a few blocks away from your apartment had long since turned into something of a second home for you and your friends. Most Saturdays - if none of the girls had made more pressing pans - found you seated around a table near the door, empty glasses littering the sticky surface as you all decompressed after a stressful week. There was cheap alcohol, greasy food that was decent enough, and rarely any crowds.

Unlike other bars in the area, most of the people who filled seats on Saturday nights were your run of the mill regulars. Though the vast majority of bars in the area - new and old - seemed to cater to the large and ever-growing Naval population, the little dive never seemed to attract any particular clientele.

There always seemed to be an interesting mixture of regulars scattered about each weekend. The ones you saw most were the small group of college students - eager to flash their new, real (they swore) IDs - a few couples, a few loners who drank quietly at the bar, and a group of, in the words of your friends, obscenely handsome men.

That description wasn’t wrong, the group was obscenely handsome, but you did your best not to stare. The bar was your safe haven, a refuge from the offense of a rough week, just as you assumed it was theirs. As such, you thought it best not to pursue any of them.

Things could get messy - the bartender had slept with a handful of one-time regulars who had since stopped appearing - and losing your favorite bar to a night that may or may not be worth it was the last thing you wanted. Avoiding them seemed practical, however, just because you decided that you shouldn’t didn’t mean you didn’t want to.

The group of men was never loud, no more so than any of the rest of the patrons in the bar, but there were moments of light that showcased their personalities. Their voices tended to carry on slower nights, when it seemed to be just your group and theirs, and you’d gotten to know a fair deal about them.

The most revolutionary piece oof information you’d gleaned from their conversations was that the one they called Rooster was the one who’d caught your eye.

Rooster - whose real name you never heard uttered by any of his companions - was at the bar most weekends. He was one of the quieter members of the group, usually choosing songs at the old jukebox in the corner and grinning as he nodded along, but never failed to laugh when the group lobbed half-hearted taunts his way.

There was a boyish charm about him, despite his size and relative quiet, and it did nothing but make you wonder.

If anyone asked, you’d argue that the duality of him was what drew you in. He was easily among the tallest men in the bar at any given time, with broad shoulders and defined biceps. There were a handful of scars smattered across his skin and, every so often, a handful of bruises to accompany them.

The men he ventured into the bar were so obviously Navy, even without the uniforms but Rooster carried himself easily. The rigidity you’d come to expect from soldiers, pilots, and sailors - living so close to the largest Naval base in the world gave you plenty of experience with them - was missing entirely, replaced by gaudy Hawaiian shirts and a playful smile, and that was that.

Somehow, in only a matter of months, Rooster managed to capture your attention and kept you coming back for more, week after week.

Everyone seemed to notice.

Both sets of friends - yours and his - wagged eyebrows and snickered whenever your paths managed to cross. Endless amounts of whispering, begging you just to say hello to him, plagued you nearly every weekend and if you glanced at his table, you assumed he was being given the same treatment.

It seemed impossible that he wasn’t, given you seemed to have caught his eye, too.

Night after night, piercing brown eyes met yours across the bar. A soft smile, hidden beneath a mustache you would’ve deemed ridiculous on anyone else, was sure to accompany the warm gaze and, despite yourself, you’d grown to anticipate the shared glances.

That gaze, those eyes glittering even in the dim light of the bar, was the highlight of your night. That night was no exception.

Each time you took a cursory glance around the bar - gaze sweeping over the sticky bar top, the bright jukebox, the worn pool table, the wall covered in stickers and patches and signatures from patrons past - you always seemed to find your way back to him.

Over the course of the night, glances were exchanged - sidelong, flirty, curious - more frequently than ever. It reminded you that there’d always been something stopping you from taking him home.

The desire to keep yourself, and him, from losing your second home for a night that had no guarantee; the determination to avoid your friends’ knowing smiles and fond teasing, no matter how deserved; the desperation to keep from making a mistake by taking him home, even if it turned out to be a beautiful one.

Thoughts of what could happen - the bad, the good, the indifferent - plagued you each time you shared a glance with Rooster. As your friends sipped beer and wine and giggled about their respective partners, you allowed yourself to wonder.

There was no guarantee attached to a night spent with Rooster, however, there could be a future there. The happily ever after you quietly longed for, wrapped in an awfully tacky Hawaiian shirt and a mustache straight out of 1986, could await you. One night with him could lead to a future that saw your group of friends and his sharing a table and laughing over how long you danced around one another.

Alternatively, it could become a fond memory. There was no guarantee the intrigue you felt would last more than a night. It could end with an understanding that you were not meant to be and knowing looks shared in passing, never speaking of the night but silently agreeing to cohabitate in peace.

The worst option was the one that gave you pause. There could be heartache in a night spent with Rooster, hidden behind pretty smiles and soft eyes. The night could lead to a future in which the sight of those eyes would render you unable to step foot in your favorite bar. It could end in disappointment or hurt and that was the last thing you wanted for either of you.

Each scenario was one you’d considered at least a dozen times. Some nights, you spent the entirety of your time in the bar questioning ‘what-if’. It was why you’d avoided speaking to him, why you never allowed the glances to linger too long or the teasing from your friends to spur you into action, but something shifted.

That night, instead of allowing the negativity to take root, an unfamiliar determination took hold.

Three weeks had passed since you last saw him. During those three weeks, you wondered if he’d been sent elsewhere and you’d missed your chance. Upon realizing how devastated the thought made you, you decided that he was worth it. Regardless of what happened, you wanted to at least take that first chance.

Rooster seemed to feel the same.

There was a promise hidden in the warmth of his eyes - ask and I’ll follow, you won’t regret it - you’d never seen from him before. It had you lingering near the bar as your friends paid their tabs. You waited under the guise of patience, insisting you had nowhere to be the following day and knew they all had plans, but, really, you weren’t sure you wanted them to see you willingly offer yourself up to the man they’d been teasing you about for months.

Nothing about it was shameful, you knew that. Your friends had gone home with or taken home their fair share of partners - soldiers, sailors, pilots, baristas, musicians, artists, finance bros; you name it, they’ve slipped out of a bar with them, uttering a promise to share details upon next meeting - but this felt different.

Rooster felt different.

That thought would likely make you laugh later on - depending on the outcome of the night - but you were confident as he followed your lead.

As his friends paid their tabs, each pointedly ignoring your presence - though you knew they saw you, felt their curious glances even as you paid them no mind - and laughing, he snuck glances. With each one, the world seemed to stop to a crawl around you.

The chatter of the bar faded into an indistinct hum, a song that no longer mattered playing in the background, just as the neon lights behind the bar blurred into shapeless splotches. Rooster settled into the space at your side as he waited and warmth radiated off of him, even through the fabric of his gaudy Hawaiian shirt. You only hoped that he didn’t notice the way your grip on the bar tightened in an effort to remain upright.

For a few long moments, you kept your eyes on the shelf of bottles behind the bar, struggling to read the labels that only moments ago had been completely comprehensible, and pointedly avoiding meeting his eyes in the mirror. However, when the last of his friends stepped out of the bar and into the cool night air, Rooster turned to you.

“Bradley,” he introduced, finally answering the question you’d been pondering for months, the moment you met his eyes. His mouth curved into a soft smile, eyes shimmering and bright despite the dim light of the bar, and you had to force yourself to take even breaths as he offered his hand in greeting.

Bradley’s voice, clearer than you’d ever heard it now that it was directed at you, and lower than expected, rang in your ears as he repeated your name. It sounded perfect, as if he’d uttered it a thousand times before, and it was almost startling how his touch simultaneously calmed and electrified your poor stuttering heart.

It was difficult to remember the last time anyone had made you feel this way - if anyone had ever made your feel this way - upon first meeting but you refused to dwell. That moment was all that mattered and, for once, you were ready to take the night in stride.

With the weight of Bradley’s gaze sweeping over your skin, warm eyes roving the few expanses of exposed skin, heating you from within, little else seemed to exist beyond the present. There was no telling how long you stood, your hand clasped in his as you took the opportunity to study one another without the teasing of friends, before the moment was broken by the opening chords of Berlin’s Take My Breath Away.

Laughter, surprised but wholly amused, filled your ears as Bradley finally released your hand. “Fitting,” he teased, grinning as his gaze returned to meet yours. When you rolled your eyes, playful despite the heat rushing to your cheeks, Bradley’s grin only grew. “Are you heading out?”

“Was planning to, yeah,” you nodded with a brief glance toward the door. “Luckily, it’s a pretty short walk.”

Bradley copied the gesture, slow and understanding, as he searched your face for any hint that he’d gotten the wrong understanding. When he seemed to find none, he asked, “Let me walk you home?”At the raise of your brow, teasing, he shrugged. “It’s late,” he reasoned, “short walk or not.”

“Does the Navy encourage the buddy system or is that your attempt at chivalry?”

Despite the question, you gathered your bag and threw the bartender - who wore a knowing grin - a wave before turning to leave. Bradley waited just a moment, eager for your consent, and only followed when you tilted your head toward the door.

“What gave me away as Navy?”

The noise of the city hit you as you stepped out into the night - through a door held open by Bradley - but immediately faded into the background as he fell into step at your side. Just as you figured he would, he walked along the edge of the sidewalk closest to the street and turned to glance at you.

“I’ve lived in Virginia Beach for two years. There’s not much else you can be around here. Your friends are Navy so I put two and two together. ‘Sides, the call sign didn’t help,” you teased, grinning when he laughed and nodded his understanding. “Before we found out your friends were Navy, my guesses were either that, blue collar, or a former frat boy. But that could just be the Hawaiian shirts clouding my judgement.”

Bradley’s laughter was quiet, a little self-deprecating, but amused as he shook his head. He studied you for a moment, gaze sweeping your skin with a quiet intensity that made it difficult to keep yourself entirely together, before he turned his head to glance at the neighborhood surrounding you both. “You know, for those to be guesses, two out of three isn’t bad.”

For this to be the first time you’d actually gotten to speak to him, you found conversation with Bradley to be easier than you would’ve imagined. There was no hint of what you hoped the night would bring, only an easy banter that settled the erratic beating of your heart and calmed the nerves that prickled at your overheated skin. It reinforced the decision you were making and gave you hope that maybe, just maybe, this wouldn’t be a mistake.

“You were a frat boy? Let me guess, UVA or Tech. Unless you’re going to shock me and tell me you didn’t go to school in Virginia.”

With an easy grin, Bradley shook his head. “UVA,” he confirmed, eyes flickering to you. “You’re good. Are you always this right or am I just easy to read?” As you approached a crosswalk, Bradley took a moment to glance around at your surroundings before asking, “Which way?”

“Left at the light.” As you slowed to a stop, Bradley turned to focus the entirety of his attention on you. There was an honest curiosity there, eager to continue the conversation, and you were surprised at how willing he was to chatter on about nothing rather than rush you through the streets. “I went to UNC Chapel Hill. There are differences, obviously, but enough similarities that make it easier to see. Or maybe I just put on college-tinted goggles and never took them off. But even a broken clock is right twice a day.”

For a brief moment, the only noise was that of the city moving around you. The occasional car rushing past, the opening and closing of doors as you passed apartment buildings, the distant hum of conversations, but Bradley’s silence spoke the loudest. When you glanced at him, only to be met with a look of fond bemusement, you raised an eyebrow.

“What?”

Instead of speaking, Bradley took a step closer and lifted his hand to cradle your cheek. As he leaned in, he paused for a moment to await your consent. Brown eyes swept yours, searching for any hesitance, and when he was met with a nod, he pressed his mouth to yours.

The kiss was softer than you expected, less an impatient clashing of teeth and lips and tongue and more of an eager glimpse into the coming night, and you were met with a quiet laugh as Bradley pulled away.

“I would apologize for not waiting,” he began, eyes shining even under the dim orange glow of the streetlight and not sounding apologetic in the slightest, “but I can’t. I’ve been thinking about doing that for a while.” He grinned then, honest and endearing, and you felt your chest begin to ache as his eyes darted back to your mouth. Bradley stood still for a moment, gaze sweeping your heated skin, before he took a half-step back. He remained closer than he had and smiled as you blinked at his honesty. “Left at the light?”

“Yeah.”

Stringing together a coherent line of thought proved difficult - more so than you imagined it would when you decided to embark on this endeavor - so you offered no protest as Bradley began to move in the direction of your apartment building. He kept close to your side and you struggled to keep from sparing him glances as you wandered down the sidewalk.

When the entrance to your building grew clearer, you swallowed the nerves you’d never felt bringing anyone else home and tilted your head to look at him fully. “That’s me,” you pointed out, gesturing to the building looming ever closer. “D’you wanna come in?”

There was little doubt that you were on the same page, both interested in the same thing, but you wanted to be certain.

“If you’ll have me,” he agreed readily, head turning to meet your eyes as you approached the entrance.

With a nod, you reached for his hand and tugged him through the breezeway. Bradley followed along, hand warm in yours, and flashed you a smile each time you shot him a glance. Nerves filled the pit of your stomach - excited and anxious, eager and hesitant - as you climbed the stairs to your apartment.

To your continued surprise - though you should have expected it at that point - Bradley waited for you to make the first move as the door to your apartment clicked shut. Though he remained close, his hand still clasped in yours and eyes sweeping your face for any sign of hesitance, he gave you the power in that moment.

“Is this… can I?” Though you weren’t quite sure what you were asking, Bradley seemed to understand. He dropped your hand and, instead, reached for your hip to tug you a half-step closer.

The weight of his palm pressed to your hip, his fingers dipping beneath the hem of your top to brush at overheated skin, grounded you just enough to notice his hum of approval. In a moment of eagerness, you closed the gap and lifted a hand to the back of his neck to tug him forward.

This kiss, though just as pleasant as the first, was less patient. Though he gave you room to initiate, Bradley quickly took control of the kiss. He pressed himself impossibly closer, blanketed your body with his own as he stole your breath with each swipe of his tongue, and shuddered when you shifted your hand to rake through his hair.

In a flurry of movement, a little more frenzied than you’d expected but in no way deserving of a complaint, the outer layers of your clothes were shed in a heap near the couch. Bradley’s coat, tossed to the floor, followed by yours; your heels, kicked off near the hall closet, followed by his boots; there would be a trail for you both to follow upon his departure but, in that moment, nothing mattered outside of guiding him to your bed.

Warm hands caressed your skin, dipped beneath the fabric of your top and brushed the sensitive skin of your hips and stomach, as you tugged at soft brown locks. The pair of you stumbled down the hallway, Bradley eagerly helping you shed your clothes along the way, only for him to pull away from the kiss the moment you stepped into your room.

Those eyes - the ones that flickered to you every time you entered the bar, the ones that glittered even in the dim neon, the ones that captivated you from the very beginning - raked over your exposed skin and eagerly drank in the sight of you. Though your initial instinct was to hide, the cover yourself from his scrutiny, the sheer desire in the depth of his eyes left you unable to do more than allow him to have his fill.

“You’re so beautiful,” he complimented, gaze lifting to meet yours as his hands gripped your hips.

There was no hint of dishonesty in his compliment, only an earnest honesty that made your skin heat and heart flutter. “You’re one to talk,” you hummed, lifting your hand to trace the slope of his cheek. “You’re really fucking pretty, Bradley.”

It was easy to see that he didn’t believe you - or, if he did, he would’ve downplayed the compliment entirely - but Bradley simply brushed it off and dipped his head to return his lips to yours.

The kiss he pulled you into was searing, warm and eager as he pressed you back toward your bed. There was little else that needed to be said as he nudged you to lie back and settle into the center of the bed.

Bradley was eager. When he slipped between your spread thighs, large hands gripping the supple flesh to hold you open for him, he surged forward with no hesitation. He nosed at the juncture of your thigh, pressed a blistering kiss to the top of your mound, before he licked into you with reckless abandon. There were no tentative flicks of his tongue, no bored swipes that indicated he was acting out of some kind of obligation. Instead, he swiped the flat of his tongue through your folds and lapped at you like a man starved.

In the back of your mind, you wondered - only briefly, before your thoughts were wiped completely by the press of his fingers to your clit - how much better sex with him would be if he were emotionally invested. It was already better than most you’d had with committed partners and from what you were beginning to learn about Bradley, you could only imagine emotional investment would give him room to ruin you for any future partner.

Though his size could be seen as imposing, he was careful to keep the press of his fingers into your skin balanced. There was enough pressure to feel, enough pressure to ensure reminders of his presence would be left in the morning, but not so much that it caused you real pain. When your fingers tangled in his hair and tugged, he groaned openly as he pressed his face impossibly closer.

There was a charming eagerness to his desire, a willingness to give his entire self in the pursuit of your pleasure, and were it not for the insistent press of his fingers to your aching clit, your thoughts would’ve been sent careening down a dangerous road. Though you knew so little about him, you felt yourself growing increasingly attached and only hoped he would feel the same.

The press of his fingers, larger than your own and rough enough that you imagined he worked with his hands, had your stomach tightening and flames of unfettered arousal licking at your heated skin as you tugged at his hair. Bradley had yet to remove anything more than his jacket but as he pressed his fingers deeper, you imagined the preparation would be necessary.

One fear when deciding to take Bradley home was that you would be left wanting, forced to fake it and take care of yourself later, but that was abated by your fast-approaching release. It should’ve been embarrassing, just how quickly he was able to throw you over the edge, but your embarrassment was only drowned out by the awe at his ability to read you already.

“Bradley! I’m gonna -“ The cry of his name echoed in the quiet of your bedroom, mingled with the lewd sounds of him lapping at your dripping folds as his fingers worked in tandem with his tongue, but he seemed to understand.

Bradley relented, only for a moment, to urge, “Come for me, honey.” The directive was mumbled into your skin as his gaze lifted to meet yours and, for a moment, you lost the ability to breathe. Honey eyes, blown wide with lust and darkening with each swipe of his tongue, captivated you. “Wanna taste you.”

Everything outside of Bradley - the intensity of his gaze, the feeling of his hand gripping your thigh, the insistent press of his fingers into your dripping cunt, the drag of his tongue through your folds, the weight of him pressed against your body, the heat of him burning you from within - ceased to exist.

With a cry of the only word your lust-addled brain could recount - “Bradley!” - you came.

Bradley didn’t relent.

The warmth of him remained pressed against your body, the weight of his hand splayed across your thigh and the rough drag of that fucking mustache as he mouthed at the soft skin of your inner thigh. Each touch felt magnified, as if your senses had been dialed to a thousand, but there was no ounce of upset anywhere to be found, even as he smirked at you.

“Still with me, honey?” Bradley hadn’t struck you as a cocky man but he oozed confidence as he pressed slick fingers into your hip to keep you from moving away. He glanced up at you, still settled between your spread thighs, and waited patiently for your response.

“Fuck.”

At that, Bradley laughed. The look on his face was one you hadn’t expected - pride, sure, but almost something akin to relief that you didn’t feel capable of dwelling on in the moment. Before you could question it, however, he shifted to settle above you. “This still okay?”

“Yes,” you confirmed, voice catching in your throat as his lips pressed to the heated skin of your shoulder. “More than. Please.”

Bradley hummed, acknowledging that he’d heard you, and shifted to allow you to push the Hawaiian shirt off his shoulders before he returned to pressing kisses along the column of your throat. With each press of his mouth to your skin, you sank deeper into the plush of your mattress.

Still, as you felt the fabric of the muscle shirt he’d worn beneath the Hawaiian shirt, you huffed. “It’s not fair that I’m naked and you’re still fully clothed,” you pouted, only half-confident the words came out as strong as you wanted them to.

With a laugh, Bradley easily lifted himself from you and made quick work of shucking the remainder of his clothing. His shirt, tossed into a corner to be found later, was followed by the rough denim of his jeans and, lastly, the soft cotton of his briefs.

The assumption you’d made - that the preparation of his fingers was necessary - was accurate.

“Fuck me.” The exclamation escaped unintentionally, mumbled beneath your breath the moment you caught sight of him, and you could see the dusting of pink across his cheeks and chest as he ducked his head.

“I was hoping you’d let me,” he declared, laughing quietly as he leaned in to nip at the column of your throat. “Can I?”

The objects in your nightstand clattered as you rummaged through them blindly in search of the little box. It had been shoved to the back and nearly hidden behind a mountain of other items, but you triumphantly tugged a little foil square from the depths and handed it to Bradley with a grin.

“Please.”

Bradley readily tore open the foil packet and rolled the condom on. As he shifted closer, settled himself between your spread thighs and pressed a hand to your hip to help steady himself, you tangled your fingers in his hair. Though he’d worked you open with his fingers and tongue, there was still a slight pinch as he notched the head of his cock at your entrance and pressed forward.

Another kiss, heated and desperate, stole your breath as he seated himself fully inside. He was careful to keep his full weight off of you, though you wrapped your arms around his neck and pulled him closer. After a few moments, when the slight pinch began to give way to a pleasant fullness, you shifted your hips and nipped at his bottom lip.

“You can move. Please.”

At first, the pace was slow and measured, an even rock of his hips. After a few moments, however, Bradley began to set a rhythm that stole your breath and had your nails digging into the skin of his shoulders. He pressed impossibly deeper, filled you in a way you’d never felt before, and managed to hit the spot that made you see stars with each drag of his hips.

Every moan was swallowed but each sound only seemed to make him that much more eager to please.

The weight of his body pressed to yours, heavy but in the most pleasant way; the rough drag of his fingertips as he circled your clit, tight circles that had you questioning whether to chase the sensation or push him away; the insistent press of his hips, deeper and impossibly deeper with each thrust; the gruff of his voice, deeper and deeper with each curse that left his lips.

It all culminated into an end that hit you with more force than you could’ve seen coming.

This orgasm was significantly more powerful than the first, strong enough to knock the air from your lungs and send splotches of white dancing across your vision. Bradley pushed through, eagerly swallowed your cry of his name, and chased his own release on the heels of yours.

When he came, with a swear and his forehead pressed to yours, he shifted to remove his weight from your body and laid beside you. As you both came down from your respective highs, you took a moment to study him.

In the dim light of your room, Bradley seemed even more beautiful. The slope of his nose, the curve of his jaw, the plush of his lips; now that you knew it all, had seen it and felt it and tasted it, you wanted nothing more than to give in to the urge to press yourself into his side. It was the post-release high, you knew that, but you were still half-convinced there was something more to Bradley than any other fling.

However, after a few moments of silence, filled only with the sounds of your attempts to catch your breath, Bradley shifted. He leaned over to press another kiss to your shoulder, grinning when you laughed at the tickle of his mustache against your skin, before he pushed himself out of the bed.

With great difficulty, you hid the slight sting of disappointment as he began to gather the pieces of his clothing. “You can stay,” you offered, quiet voice sounding too loud in the near silence of the room. As you watched him search for his shirt in the chaos of your room, you added, “If you want.”

“Believe me, I would love to, but I’ve got to be at work in,” he paused for a moment, tapped the home screen of his phone, and grimaced, “three hours.” He stood and tugged on his briefs, followed by his jeans, before he turned back to you.

There was an honesty in his answer that served as something of a balm, a small glimmer of hope that he was telling the truth and would’ve stayed had the timing been different, so you nodded. “I’ll walk you out, then,” you offered as you climbed out of bed and wrapped a throw blanket around your shoulders.

Bradley walked slowly through your apartment, wasting a few moments of time as he gathered the few items of his that had been tossed throughout the apartment, before turning to you in the living room. Those eyes - those damn eyes that seemed to have an unexplainable power over you - met yours before he leaned in to press a kiss to the corner of your mouth.

It was just close enough to tempt you into turning your head - giving in to the newfound urge to sink into him, to revel in the way his mouth slotted against yours - but before you could, he pulled away and offered up his phone. There was no need for words, nothing of note to say as you tapped away, diligently inputting the number you hoped he’d call.

And then, with a smile and one final press of his mouth to yours - a promise to call you mumbled into your skin - Bradley turned to leave.

There was little doubt that he would reach out - he seemed so fucking sincere, so sweet, and you knew you would see him again, even if it was just in passing at the bar - but you didn’t expect to see an unknown number appear on your phone screen quite so soon.

As you padded into the kitchen in search of water, you tapped the answer button. “Just wanted to make sure you had my number, too,” Bradley offered by way of greeting, grin evident as you heard the thud of a door shutting behind him. “Just in case.”

“Just in case,” you echoed, grinning without restraint. “I appreciate it.”

“Just being chivalrous,” he declared, not bothering to hide his amusement. “But, now that I’ve got you, what d’you think about dinner on Saturday? Might have to miss a thrilling night at the bar but, who knows? Could be worth it.”

“Could be,” you agreed easily. “And they always say, variety is the spice of life.” Dinner with Bradley would be worth it - he’d already proven time spent with him would be worthwhile - and you felt your heart begin to beat just a touch faster at the prospect of getting to know him. “I think dinner sounds good. The company might not be all that bad either.”

“I’ll be on my best behavior,” he promised, laughing quietly as the sound of the city began to filter through the speaker. “I’ll see you on Saturday, then.”

“See you on Saturday,” you agreed, grinning as you leaned against the counter and felt a flurry of butterflies swirling in the pit of your stomach. “Have a good night, Bradley.”

“Goodnight, honey.”

In all of the scenarios you could’ve dreamt, few of them left you as giddy as reality. There was no guarantee that a future in which you and Bradley became more than you were in that moment existed but, regardless of where the future took you, you were looking forward to the journey.

_________________________________________________________________

Taglist: @lulu-noodles, @holachicos, @getmyprettynameoutofyourmouth, @withakindheartx, @ssprayberrythings, @verin93, @totalwitch2, @malindacath, @alexparkxr, @hangmandruigandmav, @alexxavicry, @calicokel, @jaymum, @dracosluvbot, @little-wiseone, @specialk6802, @mandylove1000

#bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw smut #bradley bradshaw x y/n #bradley bradshaw x female reader #top gun smut #top gun maverick smut #top gun one shot #top gun maverick imagine #top gun maverick x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #rooster x reader #rooster smut #v's fics

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zadr-day · 1 month

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🫀 ⚙️ CALLING ALL CREATIVITY OOZING MEATBAGS ⚙️🫀

In addition to our Saturday movie nights, we're launching a month-long drawing prompt centred around the chosen monthly theme. This month is all about that flesh, those wires!!

Whether you're inspired to create abominations of sinew and circuit, that long-awaited alien autopsy, or just draw Zim soldered to Dib (same difference), go nuts!!

And the best part? We'll be showcasing everyone's incredible creations during the second and last movie night of each month, turning our movie nights into a celebration of cinema, counterculture and creativity. Don't miss your chance to shine! ✨

🎨Interested in submitting something for Flesh & Wire? 🎨 Post to your own blog and @zadr-day to get your art the attention it deserves. Art will be given priority RB during the month of march and onward

Alternatively, join us in the Alt-Zadr server, connect with community, hang out, play games, join us for our weekly movie night! We're always happy to add new people :)

#zadr #invader zim #zim #dib membrane

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lipglossanon · 11 months

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Dressed Up to the Nines Again (And Anything Really Could Happen)

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆

Stepbro!Leon S. Kennedy x fem!reader

(stand alone one shot)

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, stepcest, stuckage (this one I had fun with 😜), oral (m receiving), dirty talk, brief mention of water sports but none actually taking place (Leon just being mean as usual), lipstick kink kinda 🤔

not proofread! this doesn’t really have a specific time frame it takes place, just pretty much smut 🤣 ending is also abrupt 😅

Title from Saturday Night by We Are Robots!

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆｡ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡ ⋆⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡ ⋆

You’re only half listening as your stepdad tells Leon to work on the kitchen sink that afternoon while you head out with a couple of friends.

“Have fun!” your stepdad calls to you as you head out the door.

“Will do!” you smile at him and then at Leon, blowing them a kiss but being mindful to not smudge your lipstick.

But it all comes rushing back when you walk into the kitchen hours later and see Leon sprawled across the floor, his head and upper shoulders tucked under the cabinet so he can work on the busted pipe.

“Hey!”

“Hey yourself,” you say, kneeling to look at him but can’t really make eye contact since his arm’s twisted in the way.

“Thank god someone’s here, listen I tried to fix this wrench in place and it got stuck to the wall and trapped my arm like this,” he’s talking fast, “it hurts like a bitch so help pull me out.”

“Okay,” you shrug, and grab his legs to pull him back but his body doesn’t budge.

“Fuck! Okay maybe let’s try a gentler approach,” his voice echoes from the cabinet, “grab my hips and pull, maybe it’ll jar me loose.”

You kneel between his legs to grab his hips, “You sure this isn’t going to hurt you?”

“I’m hurt either way,” he sighs, “okay, I’m ready.”

You pull him hard but he only bites out a low groan of pain.

“Alright maybe, um, maybe do short tugs instead of one long pull,” he offers up.

You listen and do just that but again he only groans in pain.

“Alright, it seems like that loosened something so let’s try pulling hard one last time,” his legs shift restlessly.

For the last time, you grab his hips and really put your back into pulling. You fall back on your ass thinking you tugged Leon free… but the only thing you’ve actually done is tug down the sweats he was wearing, showcasing the fact Leon decided to not wear briefs that day.

“What the fuck?” he yells at you.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you quickly raise up, “I fell down, not like I did it on purpose!”

“I bet!” he snorts at you.

You glare at him, “Just for that you can sit here bare assed til someone else comes home.”

“Wait, no c’mon, don’t be like that,” he pleads, “I’m just stressed from being trapped under a fucking sink.”

You hum but let your eyes drag up his legs to his thick thighs, all the way up to stare at his honestly pretty cock. Biting your lip, you crawl a little closer until you’re right at the apex of his thighs.

“What’s going on?” you can hear the strain in his voice.

“You said you were stressed right?” an idea quickly forming in your head, “that’s something I can probably help with, big brother.”

His thighs spread as he groans; you watch as his cock stiffens against his thigh, quickly filling out at what you’re suggesting.

“You’re really..” he groans when he feels your fingers grab his dick and stroke it a few times, “fuck, so hot.”

You laugh at him, “For once, I get to do what I want.”

“You always get what you want,” he snarks at you but it loses its edge when you spit on his cock, “fucking hell.”

“Uh uh,” you chide, “now I’m gonna tease you and show you what it’s like.”

“Yeah?” he moans, “then show me little sis, teach me a lesson.”

You whine and lean down to kitten lick the fat, drippy head. Tugging down his foreskin, you bath his tip with your tongue tasting the salty, clean skin. Humming, you lick your way down until you reach his balls.

“Fuck, they’re sensitive, princess,” he pants, “go easy.”

“Easy, huh,” your lips brush against the skin of his balls making his legs twitch.

You kiss his sac all over, smearing your lipstick and leaving lip prints behind, “Aww there goes my makeup,” you pout.

“Makeup?”

“Mmhmm,” tongue slipping out, you lick and suck the soft skin making Leon lose his mind, “got my lipstick all over you.”

“God damn,” he groans, hips pushing up in the air, “fuck that’s so, ungh!“

You grin, kissing his balls softly, “Like that?”

“So much,” he pants, “s’fucking hot, always wanted a girl to leave lipstick stains all over my dick.”

You widen your lips and press as much of his balls into your mouth as possible, running your tongue all over until he’s dripping in spit. You pull away to lap at all the spots you missed, getting him nice and wet everywhere. He can’t stop the low grunts and moans as you tease his balls.

You glance up and see that he’s weeping precum everywhere. His dick is coated in the sticky strands. Your hole clenches down, slick quickly filling your panties making your thighs feel sticky.

“You must really like this,” you laugh at him, kissing the seam of his sac before running your tongue along it.

“God yes,” he growls, “my little sister giving me the sloppiest head I’ve ever had? Fuck, princess, I’m gonna bust early.”

You moan, nipples tightening in your bra, and move your mouth away from his balls to lick up all that bitter precum leaking from the head of his dick. Your clit throbs with want but you ignore it for now. His cock is soaked with spit once you’re finished and gently sucking on the tip.

“Yeah that’s it, suck me off, show me what you can do,” he groans low in his chest, “what a fucking wet dream this turned out to be.”

“Mmm,” you mouth against his cock making it jump and smear precum across your cheek, “big brother’s got such a big cock, don’t know if it’ll fit in my mouth.”

“Fucking hell,” he gasps, “it’ll fit baby, c’mon ya gotta at least try. And it’ll feel so good once you put it in your mouth, make you feel so nice and full.”

You moan and suck the first couple of inches eagerly into your mouth, lips stretching and jaw open wide from how thick he is in your mouth. Your clit pulsing with your heartbeat makes you rub your thighs together, but it doesn’t really alleviate any of the tension building in your core.

“That’s it, princess, fuck, s’good, you’re doing so good,” his thighs jump in an effort to keep still, “that tongue, god.”

Eyelashes fluttering from the praise, you mewl and sink your mouth further down his cock. You suck softly around the throbbing length, tongue twisting around the head as you bob your head up. Your thighs are getting wet as the slick leaks from your panties.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Leon chants under his breath, rolling his hips to bury his cock deeper into your mouth.

You press your hands down on his hips to hold him still so you can suck him off at your own pace.

“S’good,” he slurs, “perfect little mouth.”

You drop your mouth down as far as you can, the tip kissing your throat and making you gag. Pulling away, you cough, thick strings of saliva connect between your lips to his dick making you dizzy with arousal at the sight.

“You’re just too big,” you rasp, voice rough, moving one hand to jerk his wet cock, “guess you’ll have to train my little throat to take you, huh big brother.”

“Yeah, train you til you can deep throat me like the slut you are,” he rumbles, throbbing in your hand.

“Mean,” you pout at him, kissing his cockhead and letting your tongue dip into the slit.

“‘M close, princess,” he bucks up into your slick fist, “y’gonna swallow it?”

“Of course,” you moan, “want big brother’s hot sticky cum all over my tongue.”

“Goddamn,” he makes a punched out noise as you go back down on him.

All of a sudden, you feel a pair of hands tangling in your hair. You jerk back but they hold you steady as Leon rolls his hips up into your drooling mouth.

“You said you wanted it, so be a good girl and let me fuck that needy mouth,”he chuckles, “guess I should thank you, got me so hot and sweaty that I was able to twist my arm out.”

You whine, eyes watering as Leon continues to tease the back of your throat with his cock, precum dripping all over your tongue. Your cunt aches as your walls clench down on nothing.

“Look at the fucking lipstick rings on my dick,” he groans, eyes greedily watching you cough and choke on his cock as he presses deep into your throat , “gonna need to buy you different colors, try’em all out.”

Pulling off with a wet moan, he gives you a second to catch your breath before bullying his hard cock back into your swollen mouth. You squirm trying to squeeze your thighs together but your pussy’s sticking to your panties making it hard to get any friction.

“Gonna cum,” he grits out, hips stuttering up into your mouth, “gonna cream your throat, little sis. Make sure to drink it all up.”

Whining high in your throat must help him along because you feel his cock kick and throb as he spurts rope after rope of hot jizz into your mouth. You quickly swallow before the cum sticks to the roof of your mouth and tongue.

Leon holds your head still while he finishes in your mouth. He brushes a thumb underneath your eyes, wiping away the tears building up on your lash line.

He grins down at your dazed expression as you continue to suckle his cock, “Good thing I didn’t need to piss, could just hold you in place and make you drink that all down too.”

You push his hips away, letting his dick slip from your mouth all spit shiny and slick.

“You’re so gross,” you cough out, voice even more raspy than before, cunt pulsing with ignore arousal.

He grabs you arm and pulls you to his chest; he tilts your chin back as he looks over your face.

“Wanna mess up your lipstick every time, princess,” he murmurs to you, “y’look so hot and slutty.”

He kisses you hard, tongue lapping at your lips til he slips into your mouth and sucks you tongue. Pulling away, he pats your cheek then slips on his sweats.

“Let’s go upstairs,” he grabs your wrist and pulls you up from the kitchen floor.

“What?” you’re still dizzy from his kiss and the arousal thrumming in your body.

“Gotta return the favor right?” he smirks at you.

You squeal when he grabs you, swinging your legs up til he can carry you bridal style.

“Your bedroom,” you whisper, pressing a kiss to his neck.

“No arguments from me, princess.”

Lucky for you both, no one else is home for the rest of the afternoon.

#stepcest #stepbro leon s kennedy/you #stepbro!leon s kennedy x fem!reader #stepbro!leon s kennedy #leon s kennedy x you #leon kennedy x reader smut #leon s kennedy smut #leon s kennedy x fem!reader #fem!reader #leon s kennedy #lipglossanon #resident evil smut

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