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wifeyoozi · 14 days

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Jeon Wonwoo : zip it, strip it

w.c : 2.2 k ┊ synopsis : Wonwoo can't stand his roommate's progressively slutty online shipped clothes anymore┊ content warning : smut , friends to lovers, slight degradation (/slutshaming?) kink, unprotected sex (wrap the willy guys) , Lazada shopping , big dick wonu agenda , reader has slight size kink , oral + fingering (f rec)

a/n : mdni !! not completely beta read and still a little sloppy (the smut part) 😭

Wonwoo knows he is losing his mind. And it was solely and entirely because of you.

You, his roommate, best friend, and for quite a while now, his one-sided love.

Wonwoo wasn't exactly the most extroverted person. So the way you two became friends was only because you had once stumbled whole ten minutes late to the lecture in your first year college days once, and sat beside him for it was the only empty seat. And somehow you had engaged him in a conversation. And then somehow you had started sitting beside him everyday for the next four years. And then somehow you had just embedded yourself in his life (and heart) like that.

The reason you two decided to get one apartment together was because how much money you could save from rent and groceries with that. And it be fun. Of course it was your idea and your words. But Wonwoo was a sucker in love and he'd blindly agreed for it.

It was a little awkward at first. You always tried to keep your stuff to yourself and not make a mess of the whole house and not indulge too much in Wonwoo's personal space, knowing he was the one who loved to keep to himself.

But the initial formalities wore off eventually. It started with forgetting a half empty coffee mug on the coffee table, no coaster. And then leaving your books on the couch, promising to pick up later to never really doing it. And then mixing your clothes with Wonwoo's in the laundry basket.

But Wonwoo didn't mind any of it.

All of it was just so ... Domestic.

It almost felt like he was married to you. And as much as he tried to stop himself from indulging too much in that thought, it always creeped back up in his mind everytime you fell asleep on his shoulder after your routines sunday movie nights.

His ears grew red everytime he thought of it - you as his wife, in your little home.

And that's the whole problem. You kept making him have fantasies about things he knew he could never have. But he just couldn’t stop.

His patience had really only been tested since very recently. You had recently come across Lazada - the wondrous online shopping platform for cheap and the poor people. “Look the prices are so less, wonu-ya! For a dress that cute!” you’d exclaimed that day, bouncing as you showed him the phone with the lazada tab opened,a cute pink floral summer dress on display. “And the first order has free shipping!”

A few dresses had arrived and wonwoo saw you try out the new clothes one after the other, most of them perfectly fitting your figure. He loved seeing you smile like that, happy over getting good quality clothes at a lower price.

The real problem arose now.

The summer was getting only hotter. And Lazada was on your head like a fever. And you kept ordering increasingly more and more revealing clothes now.

Wonwoo told himself he didn't mind. You were not his something. You were not together. He shouldn’t be deciding what you wear.

But he also felt his jaw tighten everytime he saw you in a new and a more revealing dress ordered online. Saw you twirl on your toes as your little summer skirt flared, showing the sight of your safety shorts inside. Saw you wear a tight thigh-length shiny party dress when you went clubbing with your friends. Saw you sit on the couch with all of your friends in short denim shorts, riding up and up as you sat in all inappropriate positions.

He’s been trying to hold his thoughts a lot, he really is. But he has got a little bit of a limit too, and he really just wants nothing more than to put his teeth on your thighs and your neck and mark them up red and blue. You really don’t know how much power you were holding onto him.

But thats not even all of it.

Since it was summer, you had decided to roam around the house in little satin negligees. Fucking negligees.

The first time you wore it, wonwoo had to stop breathing and take hold of every muscle in his body to not get embarrassingly hard in front of you. It was so tiny, it was just like a little piece of cloth clinging on you. You had given him a little twirl show, “isn’t it so cute? I love its pink colour so much!”

Wonwoo itched to tear the pretty pink off you.

He didn’t though. Because he had a little self-restrain left in him.

He wondered if you were really as innocent as you acted or did you know the effect you had on him. He was a man after all. He swears its like you know how big a crush he has on you. You are just playing with him too much.

Thankfully you didnt wear negligees more often after that, at least when he was at home.

Right now, wonwoo is opening the door to your apartment slowly. It's quite late, he doesn't want to wake you up accidentally.

“Wonu-ya!” you call out from inside your room, “Wonu-ya, ah, great you're home! Can you come in for a bit, please? I need some help.”

Wonwoo hums, taking off his bag on the couch and going inside your room to see what you possibly needed help with and-

His breath stopped, eyes dilating, starting to feel his pants tightening a little.

You were wearing a lacy sheer negligee. Again. And it was even more provocating than last time. It was a deep purple colour, contrasting perfectly with your pretty skin tone. Your bare back was completely exposed to him, your hair pulled aside over your shoulders and the dress completely unzipped. You were looking back at him, a hand reaching back in a way that your pose wasn’t helping making it any less provocating. Your legs were slightly spread on the bed, your silky thighs on perfect view for him with your night shorts fitting you like underwear.

“Wonu-ya, can you help me zip? I can’t reach it!” you pout at him, your lips looking glossed up and puckered out and he wanted nothing more than kiss and bite them red.

No way he was misinterpreting this, no way you were not doing this on purpose.

“y/n, do you realise i am a man?” he wasn’t growling, but he was holding the urge of it.

“Hm, i know,” you say, looking at him with big not-so-innocent eyes, “but i trust you!”

So wonwoo gulps down, and sits behind you on the bed, beginning to zip your dress up. The lace hugs you tighter as he does, highlighting your delicate curves and features. You feel so small under his dark gaze, his big hands could hold the entirety of your waist. He can see your colourbones from this angle and he just wants to bite and kiss all over them so bad.

He unknowingly rests his hands on the curve of your back. His heart is beating loudly, he could feel it in his ears. You lean back into his touch like a satisfied cat.

“y/n,” his voice is angry and restrained, “what are you trying to do?”

You sigh, looking back at him, your gaze seductive from under your dark lashes, “are you really asking? Do i have to say it out for you?”

The grip on your hips tightens. “Are you sure about it?”

More and more you act up like this, more and more he feels like a lusty caveman with no coherent thoughts in his mind other than those of desire. He took a heavy breath as you twisted your your waist to look back at him, your hand snaking up to rest on his chest. He glanced down at your hand, and then involuntarily at your cleavage visible from the thing your call a dress.

“Oh, for fucks sake, Wonwoo, I have not been whoring myself out like this for you to not fuck me!”

“Mark your words,” that was the last sane thing Wonwoo would speak that night before crashing his lips with yours.

You moaned immediately, feeling his rough lips fight against your softer ones. You climbed on his lap, feeling his hardness pushing against your thighs immediately. He kisses you intensely and aggressively, his teeth grazing against your lower lip. His mind was fogging up, intoxicated by your taste. Your strawberry lip gloss was on his lips and on his tongue and your arms were tight around his neck, one hand tangled in his hair, playing and pulling it.

The more sounds you made into the kiss, the harder his bulge pressed against you. You pull away momentarily, catching your breath and panting. His glasses were fogged up.

“Shit, Wonwoo, what fucking monster are hiding in those pants,” you mumbled, looking down to his crotch and reaching to touch him, but he holds your wrist before you could.

“You did this to me, baby,” he said, pulling off his glasses, not caring to even see where he threw them, “and I'm gonna make you take care of it.”

You knew how strong Wonwoo was just by looking at his big and built body. But you didn't realise how much that would help making you wetter as he manhandled you and pinned you down on the bed. Both of his knees encaged your hips, as he unbuttoned his shirt and took it off swiftly.

You chest faltered looking at his gorgeous body. It's not the first time you had seen him shirtless - y'all have had enough beach trips in your friendship for that. But this was different, you could thirst over him now, touch him and feel him up. Besides, he'd built up so much more than when you had last seen his naked torso the time y'all went to pool together.

You mumbled a fuck under your breath, your hand reaching to touch his abs. He chuckled. “Like what you see, huh?”,

Wonwoo doesn't give you a chance to answer, holds your wrist down and hold you down as he attacked your lips with his once again. You whined in his mouth, and that just made him kiss you deeper, hotter, wetter. His kisses went south to your jaw, down your neck. He nipped on the sweet skin of the crook of your neck, sucking and biting and bruising it. Marking it. Marking you.

His hands left your wrists to travel across your body, slipping under your dress and touching your warm waist. His hands are cold against your skin. You hear a tssrrt, and you look down to see Wonwoo ripping off your slip dress, and pulling it apart to expose your bare breasts to the cold air.

He tears apart from neck to look at your tits, and you feel your nipples harden under his gaze. He licks his lips vilely, before grabbing your boobs in his hands. He shoved his face in between the valley of your boobs, taking a breath full of your scent there before taking out his tongue and devouring you like a starved animal.

He looked up at you like that.

And his once so innocently handsome face looking so damn sinful right now, his eyes staring at your with deep lust. “I can't even count the number of times I've secretly oggled at these beautiful things, wanting to do all the ungodly stuff with them. Fuck, y/n.”

You moaned as he took your right nipple in his mouth, sucking harshly as his hands reach to play with your left. Your hands snake up his hair, clutching a handful, tugging it.

You gasp when his hand suddenly slipped down your shorts and panties, touching the skin right above your cunt. “shit, wonu!”

“Fucking slut,” Wonwoo mumbled against your skin, “making me desperate for you for so long, just because you're a cockslut.”

“Only for you,” you mutter under your breath, as Wonwoo's fingers inch downwards.

Wonwoo chuckles, “say that again, baby,”

“I am only your cockslut, Wonwoo,” you said, face red with shame and lust.

Wonwoo chuckled more as he dipped his fingers between your folds at those words. You let out a loud and erotic moan, legs clenching reflexively. Wonwoo played around the sensitive skin for a while before he found the throbbing bundle of nerves which got him the reaction from you which he was waiting for.

His fingers continued to rub over your clit in circular motion, lips moving downwards to kiss and lick and nipples at the skin of your belly. He managed to make the entirety of your torso cover in his spit in absolutely no time. “Lift, babe."

He pulled your shorts and your panties off your legs in one swift motion. Your legs shyly closed instinctively, but Wonwoo spread them back apart by you knees, “oh, you're shy now?”

He didn't expect a reply, diving into the heat between your legs. He kisses your inner thighs and your outer folds and gave your clitoris a few kitten licks, making you moan like a bitch in heat. He shoved his tongue in your hole, licking up your juices like a starved child.

“Fuck, you're so damn tasty, my love,” he mumbles as he explores your cunt with his tongue. You yelp at how deep his tongue reaches inside you, tickling against your g-spot.

You pull his face away with all of your strength when you feel the tension in your lower abdomen starting to build, “fuck, wonu stop,”

He stops immediately, looking up at you with concern for second, “shit, baby, I'm sorry, did i overstep-”

“No,” you interrupt, too desperate, “no, wonu. I, uh, i am close, but I don't wanna cum like this,” you say shyly, watching the concern in Wonwoo's eyes turn into the dark lust again, “fuck, I want to cum on your cock, Wonwoo.”

Wonwoo smirked. “Scared me there, baby, and all for a cock? You want my cock, yeah? I'll give you some.” Wonwoo unzipped his jeans and wriggled out of them and his boxers, freeing his red angry cock which slapped against his toned stomach.

Your mouth watered at the sight. You just didn't happen to be kidding when you called that thing a fucking monster. You reached out to touch it but he slapped your hand away. Wonwoo pumped his dick a few times, coating it with your slick on his fingers, before lining it with your hole, wasting no time.

He trusted in deep, making you let out a choked sound. You winced at the initial sting as Wonwoo waited a second in you to let you get used to his size. He pulled out slowly, leaving only his top inside, before hammering back in, making you moan again.

He did it a few times before catching a stable pace, and you felt the coil in your stomach form again already. “ahh, wonu, need you to touch me,”

“Shit, nothing is ever enough for you, is it? Always begging and whining for more,” Wonwoo said, marking his sentence with a slap on your thighs before reaching his fingers to play with your clit, flickering and fondling it between his index and middle.

He bent down to kiss you again. You grabbed his broad muscular shoulders, your nails digging in as you reached nearer to your climax. It seemed so did Wonwoo, by the way his breath hitched in your mouth.

“Fuck, princess, where do I come?” Wonwoo muttered in your mouth.

You grabbed onto him tightly, legs squealing his hips as you were just on the book, “inside me? You could do that, I have the morning-after pills.”

You feel Wonwoo hum in your mouth as he increased his pace again, chasing both your orgasms.

You reach your high first, vision whitening and body going limp at the sensation, feeling the happy harmones release in your veins. Wonwoo comes soon after - you involuntarily spasming around his dick giving just the right amount of stimuli for him to cum deep in you, his semen hot inside.

He pulled out, hissing a little, and fell on the bed beside you. You rolled over lazily by his side, dumping your arm around his chest and resting your head on his shoulder. He scoots closer, cuddling you in.

“Shit, that was so…” you didn't even have enough words to describe a sex that good.

Wonwoo chuckled a little. “I tore your new dress, sorry for that.”

“Don't worry about it,” you giggle, “Lazada has a new sale coming. I'll buy many more for you to tear in the future.”

#svt #seventeen #svt smut #svt x reader #seventeen smut #seventeen x reader #wonwoo #jeon wonwoo #wonwoo x reader #wonwoo x you #wonwoo smut #wonu #wonu smut

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luveline · 6 months

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i have a request for bombshell!reader if you're up for it!! <33 maybe somehow the team finding out that they're *actually* together and their reactions to it!! it would be soo funny i think naisnakaka 😭 thank you and i hope you have a good day!!

thank you lovely, you too ♡ fem

Emily isn't expecting it. She's been betting on you both for months, she has money in the pool, but knowing you're together versus really truly seeing you together are surprisingly separate things.

Spencer has you up against a wall. It's funny but it isn't, how shockingly intimate the moment is, how you're looking at him like he's hung the moon just for you. “It's not a bad thing,” you're saying, a hand pressed softly to his front.

He's not kissing you or anything salacious, he's not even really shoving you, he's just got his hands on you, one on your shoulder holding you to the wall and the other just under your arm. “I know it's not, don't worry–”

“I do worry. I don't want you thinking that anything about you is wrong.”

Emily should walk away. This is clearly private, but she's just never seen you both like this. She had her suspicions, that behind the shy touches (and the more confident ones from you) and secret smiles was a real, intimate relationship, but to see it displayed in front of her has her jaw dropping.

“I don't think that," he says quietly, ducking his head in a way that forces you to make eye contact. Emily might call it brave, but it would be better labelled as comfortable. Spencer's not shy because he knows he can be vulnerable with you, and he's reassuring you now because you can do the same. “Why would I think that?” He kisses you.

It's sudden. Emily almost gasps.

He pulls away, says, “You don't need to think about that kind of stuff, angel, I know who I am,” over your lips, and then he kisses you again.

“I just love you,” you say, words half lost in the kissing and the quiet.

Emily shakes herself and backs away, guilt like lead in her fingertips. She should not have watched so long, no matter how curious, but it's not as though you're in a private place, it's a shared conference room—

“What's with the face?”

Emily waves her hand, as if to say, don't talk, but Morgan's a fiend and JJ not much better, looking over Emily's shoulder eager for the drama. “What, Prentiss?” Morgan asks.

“Y/N and Spencer,” she whispers, giving in.

Morgan's face is a picture, and predictable. He shuffles around Emily and JJ follows, her lips parted in surprise.

Morgan peeks inside, and doubles back, pushing JJ before she can get a look. “Wait!” she insists in a whisper shout.

“That's not PG viewing.”

Emily saw it herself, but she still can't believe it. Nor can she believe when you appear from the conference room together unabashed ten minutes later, Spencer's hair in disarray, his cheeks (and his whole face) a rosy pink. You sit at your desk and Spencer touches your shoulder, promising you a cup of coffee.

You're smiling as you reapply your lipstick. Your teammates look on in poor acts of casualness.

“You guys are perverts,” you murmur, rubbing your lips together to spread the colour evenly.

“I– we–” Emily sits back in her seat, defeated. “You could've told us.”

“Should've,” JJ says.

“Thought you guys already knew.” You put the cap back on your lipstick and beam at them. “I'm not subtle, am I? But don't tease him too much, okay? We wouldn't want to torture him.”

“Come on,” Morgan laughs.

Spencer returns with your coffee. He's not subtle, either, come to think of it, putting your coffee mug carefully on your coaster. “That okay?” he asks.

You don't even try it. “That's perfect, handsome, thank you.”

He strokes the soft line of your jaw with the back of his finger, a split second touch that practically glances off of you, and heads back to the kitchenette. Morgan gets up, presumably to chase him down for congratulations, while the girls move in.

“It's actually funny how it happened,” you say immediately. “I kissed him by accident.”

“How do you kiss someone by accident?” JJ asks. Emily nods furiously in agreement.

“Surprisingly easily,” you say, looking as pleased as a person can be. “It was a few weeks ago, we were in the police precinct in Jacobsville…”

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid oneshot #spencer reid scenario #spencer reid drabble #spencer reid fic #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds x reader

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livwritessometimes · 8 days

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1 Step Forward, 3 Steps Back - Lando Norris

: Lando Norris x singer!reader

: y/n is tired of this roller coaster ride

: Part 2 | Part 4

: Masterlist

…

Yourname added to their story!

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| kellypiquet replied to your story

-> my fav girlies 💕

Yourname: ❤️

*liked by kellypiquet*

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-> stop spreading false information

maxverstappen1: 🙅🏻‍♂️🙅🏻‍♂️

Yourname added to their story!

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-> whatever helps you sleep at night 🤷🏻‍♂️

Yourname: next time it’s on sight 🥊

-> ✌🏻😚

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Yourname: Not a lot going on 💤

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User65: solo dates are the best! No one can convince me otherwise

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User09: Pretty 💕

kellypiquet: ahh so that’s where my black jacket was

-> Yourname: 😋😋

User67: Where is landooo?? Feel like it’s been ages since I’ve seen y’all together

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y/nupdates: Singer Y/N L/N caught crying at the fashion show she was attending. The singer seemed a little upset throughout the event and even shed a few tears towards the end. What could have caused her to display such emotions in public!!

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F1updates: Y/N L/N couldn’t seem to hold back her tears as she watched the Miami Grand Prix. This is the second time this week that the singer was caught crying, could the race be getting to her or is there something else going on?? We can only hope that she is doing well.

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-> 🧡

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F1paps: L/N was seen leaving a restaurant in tears. The singer was reportedly waiting at the restaurant for someone (possibly Lando Norris) and seemed to be arguing on the phone. L/N was captured crying in the car as she drove away from the restaurant. This is not the first time the singer has been seen crying in public. Is this all a publicity stunt, or is there something going on behind the scenes?

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👤: kellypiquet

Yourname: Fixing something you didn’t break ❤️‍🩹

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kellypiquet: My beautiful girl <3

-> Yourname: 🫂 ilysm

maxverstappen1: my fav freeloader 🤭

-> Yourname: I’ll tell P what you said 😤

-> maxverstappen1: Now now, that’s no need for that, let’s have a peaceful conversation 😀

-> Yourname: too late now 😙

User38: it’s so nice to see you finally laugh and joke around, I hope you stay like this forever

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Yourname: Haven’t had the best month as you guys can tell, but the only thing that helped me throughout this tough time (besides my amazing friends) was writing. 1 step forward, 3 steps back is yours to play, sing, cry, enjoy.

Putting it into words wasn't easy, but I'm glad I was able to do it. Hope you like it and sorry if you’re able to relate to it <3

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charles_leclerc: masterpiece 🎶 lmk next time if you need a pianist I might have someone in mind 🤔

-> Yourname: tysm Charles 😂 definitely

alexandrasaintmleux: been playing this on repeat, you’re such a talented soul 💖

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lemmetreatya · 11 months

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Oh what about Miguel getting sick and the reader taking care of him?

AHHHHH!! i know he hates being looked after too ��😩 so stubborn

“i don’t want you looking after me.”

as soon as miguel says those words, a hefty sneeze leaves him. you can only tut, ignoring his nonsensical request as you place his honey, lemon and ginger tea on the coaster.

“i dont care about what you want. right now, you need medical attention.” you say with concern.

“medical attention is such a harsh phrase.”

at this rate, miguel is borderline pouting as he turns his head away from you and into the back of the couch.

“well, what else d’you suppose i use?”

miguel starts to lightly groan towards the back of his throat. it sounds like a deep, scratchy alternative to purring and so you can definitely tell he feels unwell.

“cuidado suena vago. me gusta…el cuidado. usa cuidado.” [1]

you have to concentrate to work out what hes muttering about. its only after several seconds where you work out that he was speaking in spanish.

“cuidado…” you repeat to yourself. “nursing? care? so you want me to use care instead?”

miguel groans again but this time he’s cosying into the back of the couch. for someone who was so adamant they didn’t need looking after, he was definitely displaying actions of wanting someone to pay attention to him.

“mhm. care.” he mutters.

with a sigh, you lean over to the other side of the couch to retrieve a blanket before wrapping it over him.

“fine. ill give you care, yeah?”

as you tuck the blanket under either side of him, you mumble softly to yourself

“gosh, you’re such a big baby.”

you know in any other circumstance, he wouldn’t have let you get away with saying that about him but surprisingly, miguel entertains you.

“if im such a baby then you’re gonna have to reaaaallly take care of me.” he mumbles.

surprised by his response, you slightly pause. once again it takes you a few seconds to acknowledge what he’s saying but once you do, you’re laughing aloud.

“yeah. yeah, i really am, aren’t i?” you muse before softly soothing your hand over his head.

———————————-

[1]: care sounds vague. i like care. use care

#miguel #miguel ohara x reader #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o’hara #miguel ohara #miguel x reader #atsv x black reader #atsv #atsv x reader

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lolapiastri · 2 months

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his sinful secret | p. gasly

warnings: smut, heavy religious imagery and themes, a sinful amount of dirty talk, like pierre cannot stfu, heavy degredation, everyone gets head, choking, a some praise, spitting, this is like actual filth maybe being ill makes me horny idk

author's note: i'm blaming this filth on the fact that i'm under the weather rn but jesus christ be fucking warned, she's a roller coaster

pierre prided himself in his religion. it was important to him, that belief in a higher power was the faith he needed to live the life he did. it seemed the driver life was one full of jealousy, gluttony and lust, but he was determined not to fall victim to the sins like so many before him.

so he payed his dues. he went to church whenever he had a free sunday, said a silent prayer for his friends and family every night, gave thanks to the lord before every meal as a token of appreciation.

his religion wasn’t a joke to him, it never would be. it was a belief that kept him sane, kept him in order, kept some sense of purpose and responsibility in his life. it wasn’t something that he would pick and choose whether to follow or not. he was all or nothing with his belief, and he chose all.

until he met you.

you were his sin personified, his dirty little secret. whenever you two were together all thoughts of his religion left his mind, as he now existed to serve you, to worship in between your thighs, listen to your moans as if they were gospel. it was like any holy thought left his mind the second your skin brushed over his.

he never wanted to give into the temptation. he saw you as a challenge, a sign to resist sin and stay thinking holy thoughts. but when you showed up at the club in a tight white dress, hair tumbling over your shoulders as your hips swayed provocatively to the music, he knew that nothing could stop him taking you home that night, and many a night after that.

which is how he ended up knocking on your flat at 9pm on a monday evening, the day after a tough race where he just felt useless. a double dnf for alpine followed by a race without points. he felt horrible, felt like a failure, and all the comfort that his producers and members could give him could never make him feel as good as you could.

the warm orange hues of a southern french sunset lit up your apartment as you swung open the door, the golden hour glow accenting the faint highlights in your hair. you were underdressed for pierre's standards, normally revealing yourself to him in a lacy set he bought for you, or sometimes even nothing, looking like a greek statue as you left nothing to the imagination.

today was different. you weren’t expecting him; you had no warning to any chain of events about to follow. so you opened the door to show yourself in a white linen shirt, almost certainly his, that was so large on you it was practically a dress, that you had been lounging around your flat in.

pierre didn’t care, however, thinking you were still as stunning as ever. the white made your tanned skin seem darker, and with a few buttons undone your cleavage was truly out on display, a teaser at what he would truly see later. a pair of large hoops hung in each ear, with a small chain around your neck with ‘10’ engraved on it finishing the look. he loved that necklace, a sign that you and him had some kind of connection, even if it was only through a piece of jewellery.

“you alright?” you asked, eyes scanning from head to toe. it was rare for pierre to show up without telling you, if he ever had. there was a silent agreement that he would let you know when he needed to release energy, to be in your presence, to succumb to the sinful energy you supposedly emitted.

he shook his head. “fucked the race yesterday. now wanna fuck you.”

and there it was. the switch that flicked where pierre ignored his religion, ignored the purity and goodness he was supposed to uphold, and you became the deity he worshipped.

his hands grabbed your face as he pulled you into a needy kiss, calloused fingertips rough against your smooth skin. the kiss held a thousand emotions: anger, upset, disappointment, lust, love, and enough passion to knock you back on your feet, needing the stability of pierre's hands to stay upright.

he always kissed you like it was his last on earth, like he may never get to do this again so he was going to savour every second of it. and he was so passionate - maybe because he was annoyed, maybe because he was stressed, or maybe because you were the only person who got to see this pierre. this raw, untamed, animalistic pierre who you adored seeing so much.

he slowly edged you back into your room, hips pushing against yours ever so slightly, enough to encourage your hips up against his, creating the tiniest bit of friction to ease the growing need between your thighs. you heard him shut the door behind you, never once taking his lips off of yours, befor his hands slid from your face to your neck.

you let out a quick gasp as he squeezed into your skin, feeling him smirk into the kiss as your breathing got shallower and shallower. he often did this. pushed your boundaries as far as he could push them. watched as your slowly cracked under the euphoric torture he performed on you.

he pulled back from you, letting out a chuckle as you chased his lips. he looked down, easily towering over you, a look of fake-pity etched all over his face.

“look so pretty with my hands wrapped around your neck, huh?” he asked, almost certainly a rhetorical question as he squeezed that slight bit harder, looking down at your thighs rubbing against each other, determined to find some relief from the ache in your core. “and you love it as well, love it when i choke you, when i treat you like a slut.”

his words went straight to your core, and you couldn’t rebute them without the lie showing all over your face. pierre eased up on your neck, hands now trailing down your body, over your rib cage, counting down with such an intent focus you would think it’s the first time he’s ever seen your body.

“wearing my shirt, must have missed me?” he asked, tone nonchalant but undertone the opposite. the agreement is that you don’t miss each other. you don’t have feeling for one another. you fuck. that’s it.

you took in a deep breath as one hand crawled under the white linen and felt the material of your underwear. lace, of course. pierre's favourite. you were aware of how his race went yesterday, and you were planning on sending him some photos to ease the pain. you did that often, when things weren’t going so well for him in the f1 world, a little pick me up in the form of barely lit lingerie pictures and videos of you moaning his name.

“never,” you teased, your hands rising over his shirt, pulling it off his body and exposing him in all his glory.

my god, was he stunning. you had never seen another man like him, one so broad and muscly yet slim and defined. his skin had grown darker in the past few weeks, undertone becoming more and more golden as his hair lightened under the european sun. he’d been keeping his hair long lately, and though you weren’t a fan at first, when you gripped it while he was your legs it was safe to say it grew on you. his eyes had a chill behind them, one only you were lucky enough to see, which told you that he had one hundred wonderful and wicked ideas to try out with you.

“white lace?” he questioned, having a peek under the shirt, the colour not normal for you. pierre liked navy, so that was what you normally wore, as well as black and red. he didn’t even know you owned a white set, and he had seen a lot of lingerie on you.

you hummed. “you like it?”

he loved it. loved the way the white material contrasted your skin, the way the quickly fading light bounced off it making you glow, the way he could already see the wetness collecting from your arousal. and most of all, he loved the way you looked angelic in it, look like the heavens yourself had sent you, because nothing you ever did was angelic. you were never angelic when you sucked him off, let him fuck you into oblivion, enjoyed being degraded and teased, and when you dressed the part, it somehow made everything more dirty for him.

“would love it more if you got on your knees.” the suggestion was an order, and of course you obeyed, sinking into the cold wooden floor of your bedroom and looking up at him with blinking eyes.

he looked majestic, light pouring out from the window behind him. and when he went to unbuckle his belt, your mouth already starting salivating in preparation, knowing what was coming. pierre must have been able to sense your eagerness, as he let out a wry chuckle looking down on you.

“always so fucking desperate for it, aren’t you?” all you could do was nod in response, leaning forward as mark slid his trousers down to pull his dick out from his boxers.

you were still in awe every time you saw his cock. sure, you’d been big dicks before, but pierre's was something in of itself. it was as majestic as his body was, and taken care of the same way.

you went to take it in your mouth, but pierre quickly tangled a hand in your hair and pulled you back, letting out a soft chuckle as a pout appeared on your lips.

“honestly, i don’t fuck you for two weeks and you forget all your manners. you think you just get to suck my cock? you think you’re worthy of that? dumb little girl.” his degrading words went straight to your core, you having to resist the urge to squeeze your thighs together as you looked up at him pleadingly.

“please, pierre,” his hand tilted your head up, nothing stopping your eyes from baring into his, seeing the devilish glint in his eye, “please.”

“please what? come on, good girls know how to beg properly,” he teased, watching down evilly as you whined at his harsh words.

you took in a deep breath. “please let me suck your cock, pierre.”

he nodded. “keep going.”

“please, just wanna make you feel good. please let me suck it, all i wanna do,” you were unravelling, slowly losing any previous willpower you had to resist his charm, diving headfirst into the depths of hell you two created together. it was a beautiful chaos, a place the two of you could completely unravel and just be morsels of sex and passion. “please, pierre, just want your cock in my mouth.”

“fuck, your such a whore for me. never seen such a lovely girl want cock so bad. but you’re not a lovely girl, are you?” you nodded, so desperate for him. “that’s right, baby, you’re a desperate little slut who’s only thought is dick, so why don’t you show me how much you love this one, yeah?”

his words would be the death of you. they were your bible, you would have done anything he asked you do when he was speaking in that deep, honey tone, french accent getting thicker and thicker as he lost himself in the moment. whatever he preached in church, said as he prayed, these were the opposite of that. these were the thoughts that hid in the back of his mind until he was around you, and then they were an unstoppable spew of sin and lust and as many other unholy emotions he could think of.

you sunk down on his cock as soon as you had permission, taking as much in as possible before starting to bob your head, swirling your tongue when you rose to the tip of his dick. he let out a deep groan when you choked around him, his length still too big even after a few months of sucking him off. his hand tightened around your scalp, guiding you up and down and up and down.

you pulled back to catch a breath, a string of saliva still attached to his dick, creating a link between you. pierre watched as you licked it up, before replacing your mouth his your hand, throwing his head back as your thumb rubbed over his tip.

“tell me how much you love this cock, baby,” he grunted, his words not surprising to you. when everything seemed to be going wrong in his life, pierre thrived on the praise of others. his parents, his mechanics, his engineers, and in this state you. any words that made him feel appreciated, needed, loved, he thrived on.

“love it so much, baby,” you panted, “so so much.”

and with that you started sucking again, still using your hand on everything you struggled to fit. his breaths got shallower and shallower as you kept going, feeling the muscles in his chest tensing as he got closer and closer to his high.

“look at you on your knees for me,” the hand in the back of your hair tilted your head towards the mirror you had in your bedroom, and the sight was one you were sure would be engraved in your memory for years to come.

it was like a renaissance pairing, the way the two of you looked. both glowing in the sunset light, sweating clinging loose strand of hair to your foreheads. pierre's mouth was hung open, defined abs clenched, looking completely gone with pleasure. your back was arched while on your knees, thighs clenched together as your mouth swallowed pierre down, tears slowly building in your eyes, threatening to break loose and paint your cheeks with mascara stained water.

“want me to finish in your mouth?” he groaned, obviously so near to the edge. but he always asked. no matter how intense anything was, pierre always asked.

you hummed in agreement around his cock, sending vibrations through the sensitive skin and bringing his orgasm that little bit closer. he took complete control now, fucking your face with sporadic, wild thrusts, before pulling back and waiting for the orgasm, your hand guiding him through it.

“open your mouth, baby,” he grunted, on the brink of the most sinful euphoria he could feel, “stick your tongue out for me- there you go. pretty little slut on her knees for me. never seen such a beautiful girl act like such a whore-”

and with that he came, covering your tongue and lips with his cum, groaning as he finally got the high he’d craved after the last two weeks. you carried him through it, keeping your mouth open until he’d completely finished.

“show me your tongue, baby,” he panted, a maniacal laugh appearing when you eagerly showed him your face. “god, you’re so good for me, you look so pretty covered in my cum, huh? go on, look at how messy you are for me.”

you turned you back to the mirror, and you got a proper look at how gone you were. your tongue was still out, eyes dazed over, nose to chin covered in pierre's cum, with your cheeks stained with mascara tears.

he pulled your head back, forcing you to look back up at him, before he leant over and spat in your mouth, the most sinful action of the night.

“swallow it up, yeah, there you go,” he almost whispered, and you did as he said, taking everything he had given you and the rest that he swiped in from your cheeks. “god, you’re always such a good girl for me.”

he was always softer after an orgasm, like he suddenly became aware of how harsh his words were, how you could easily take them the wrong way. you never did, but you appreciated the effort, and you appreciated him.

wait. no you didn’t.

“up you get, baby,” he cooed, helping you stand up and immediately wrapping your legs around his waist, carrying your through your flat like it was his own. he had spent so much time here it might as well have been.

he placed you down on the bed, letting you lean against the frame as he dimmed down the lights, leaving the room in a small, romantic glow. he finished undressing himself, before finally turning all of his attention to you.

this is where it became a sin.

see, pierre didn’t believe that pre-marital sex was a sin. well, whether or not it was he was more than happy to partake in it. what was a sin, however, was worshiping false deities. yet that’s exactly what he did to you.

after the agression you had just experienced, pierre knew it was time to turn his attention to in between your thighs, somewhere he could sit for hours and never get bored. it was a form of worship, how he treated you, one that he could never admit to the universe, a secret shared between the two of you.

his hands ran up your bare thighs, kneading them as his mouth followed, leaving a trail of wet, sloppy kisses along your skin. your legs spread automatically, a sigh of pleasure already coming from your mouth, just the motivation pierre needed to keep going.

"fuck, baby," he gasped, as one of his fingers stroked over your panties, feeling your sticky wetness caused from pierre's dirty words earlier, "fucking soaked for me, huh?"

"yes," you sighed as one of his fingers found your clit, making ever so light circles over the lace, "only for you, pierre."

"i know, baby, god you look so beautiful like this."

and he wasn't lying. with your back arched, a thin layer of sweat coating your skin, his shirt bunched up around your ribcage so he could see the rise of fall of your stomach as your breathing got shallower. he thought you were majestic, undenyable beauty, something to be worshipped.

so that's what he did.

he pulled your panties off and dived straight into your pussy, nose hitting your clit as his tongue worked wonders, lapping up the wetness and causing pornographic sounds to emit from your throat. god, was he good at eating you out, and when he added to fingers and curled them against that spot inside of you, you knew you were not lasting long.

"baby- oh my god, pierre- i'm gonna cum," you whined, hips bucking so much pierre had to use one of his arms to hold you in place.

pierre chuckled against your clit, the vibrations just bringing you closer to the edge. "yeah, i'm making you feel good."

"so good, pierre, so so so good."

and that was enough for him. sometimes he would make you beg, have you crying from the edging he would put you through, but he knew he was harsh earlier, and you had been so good your deserved to come.

"come for me then, baby," he grunted, fingers speeding up their pace, "come all over my fingers, make a mess of me, baby."

he words tipped you over the edge, the feeling of euphoria washing over you as pierre carried you through your high, breathing finally slowing down as pierre abandoned your pussy and staring leaving open mouthed kisses against the soft flesh of your thighs.

"think you can go once more for me?" he asked between kisses, and however tired you were you always wanted to please him, always wanted to make him feel good.

so you pulled him over you and braced yourself as he pushed inside of you, the stretch making you hear colours as his lips finally connected with yours for the second time that night, tongue exploring your mouth until he was fully inside of you.

"never gonna get over how good you feel wrapped around me, baby," he mumbled against your lips, pleasure evident on his face, "so fucking warm and wet, this pussy was made for me, wasn't it?"

you couldn't even respond, mouth stuck in an o-shape as he began to thrust in and out, his tip hitting your cervix as he picked up the pace.

"don't know what i would do without this cunt, think i would go insane not knowing this is always here for me, because it is, isn't it? this is my pussy."

pierre told himself he would hold back but he just couldn't help it, the feeling of being inside of you driving him crazy as his hips snapped against yours. only pierre's sinful words and the sound of skin against skin filled the room now, the feeling ever so dirty and sinful, just the way you both liked it.

"my fucking pussy to do whatever i want with, my playtoy, that's what you are, yeah?" he teased, and all you could do was whine in response as you grew closer and closer to your second orgasm.

"just a set of holes for me to use, aren't you? can't even speak because i'm fucking you so good, huh? just a cumdump for me, a slutty, pretty, cumdump. you want my cum, my pretty little whore?"

all you could do was nod, hoping that was enough for pierre right now. he chuckled, but you could tell he was close by the way his thrusts were growing irregular. and he could tell you were close by the way you clenched around him.

"you wanna cum? tell me who's making you feel this good."

you mustered up all the energy you had left to speak, hoping the words came out of your mouth. "you, pierre, only you can make me feel this good."

"tell me you belong to me," pierre didn't even know what he was saying at this point, the words leaving unconciously, his sinful desires becoming more and more evident in the world.

"i'm yours, pierre. every part of me is yours, i belong to you. god-"

"yeah, that's right, i'm your fucking god," he grunted, and that word, even though it's not what you meant, made both of you come undone together, a moan leaving both of your mouths as pierre collapsed against your chest, chests rising and falling as you attempted to calm down.

pierre pulled out, ever so gently, and knelt on the floor at the end of the bed, watching as some of his cum escaped from your swollen pussy. gently, he used his finger to scoop it up, and push it back into your cunt, before leaning back over to meet your lips in a kiss.

"thank you," he muttered, "for this. hope i wasn't too harsh."

you chuckled. "a little, but you know i like it. shit, though, i would have called you god sooner if i knew it would get that reaction."

with those words, pierre froze. those words should have never been said, should have never been put into the universe. it reminded pierre of his sin, of everything you tempted him towards. with no other option, he chose to escape your lustful allure, and made a mental note to pray tonight.

"gotta get back to the office, usami will be expecting me," pierre left one final kiss on your cheek before leaving.

you pouted, so many unspoken words floating on your tongue. stay. be mine. i love you. yet none of them were said, instead sending him a sad smile before grabbing your phone from your bedside table, just hoping deep down he felt the same way.

if only you knew you were just his sinful secret.

#f1 smut #formula one smut #formula 1 smut #formula 1 blurb #formula one imagine #formula 1 imagine #pierre gasly #pierre gasly smut #pierre gasly imagine #pierre gasly fanfic #pierre gasly blurb #f1 imagine #f1 blurb #f1 x reader #f1 fic

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totally-tech-unsavvy · 2 years

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Found at my very catholic grandparents house. I don’t think they know

#it’s funnier if I don’t tell them #like a little inside joke with myself #love knowing it’s there #prominently displayed #oh what a lovely coaster #what a clever pun #this is the gay agenda #bi pride

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wildemaven · 3 months

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strangers : poolside | dave york

pairing: dave york x f!reader word count: 6622 content warnings: 18+ blog; ANGST, soft!Dave, established relationship, miscommunication (like a lot), mentions of alcohol and food, workaholic Dave, morning breath, Dave’s stupid phone, talks of marital woes, slight exhibitionism, breast/nipple/clit play, a random handsome stranger, jealous Dave, talk of having or wanting children, a kiss of fluff, implied/alluding to infidelity (there is none, reader just doesn’t know this), reader is mentioned wearing lingerie and a bathing suit- but zero description features, no age given but it’s implied she’s at least over 30, no y/n, established relationship, this is au- no Carol or kids, if I missed anything let me know. notes: ahh! I’m so nervous for this chapter!! But so excited for it also. I’m so glad I took my time with it so it could be exactly what it needed to be— which is kinda of a roller coaster of emotions. While the story is completely fictional, this has felt very cathartic to me because I dealt with a lot of similar thoughts/feelings as the reader. Anywho! Biggest thank you to @gnpwdrnwhiskey for literally holding my hand through this and helping me work through it. 💕 strangers masterlist | previous | next | inspo board | playlist

The soft glow of the television bathes the hotel room in a soft ambient flicker. Faint colors and scene changes adjust the room’s atmosphere. Actors silently exchanging words back and forth, expressions all the more dramatic with the muted volume. The movie you’ve been looking forward to seeing, long forgotten, playing out in silence across the screen.

As expected, the bed is better than anything you have ever slept in. Its plush mattress, divine and soft. Similar to what you assume it might be like to doze off among the clouds. It braces your bodies with ease through shifting positions as the evening extends into the early hours of the next day.

The intricate structure of lace and mesh material felt exquisite on your skin. Molding over your body like it was made for you and only you. The cups of the teasing bra cradling the weight of your breast, pushed up on display, enticing enough to bring a man to his knees— the plan at least. Taking your time, admiring yourself in the bathroom mirror once everything was in place. Your eyes roaming over your body, letting your hands follow suit. Imaging all the ways Dave would map over your skin in the same manner. The prospect for what was to come was thrilling. Desire blooming in your veins. Arousal warm and already pooling in the crotch of your panties. It was evident, your body filled with pent up lust, ready to be satiated by your husband.

You delicately dotted drops of perfume to your skin— base of your throat, behind your ears, inner wrists. The warmth from your pulse points amplifying the lush fig and sandalwood notes, blending with your natural pheromones instantaneously. Before rejoining Dave, you slipped a hotel robe over your body, concealing the lacey number with wild anticipation.

His hands, gentle where they met your body with a soft caressing motion. Not rushed or seeking more than they were ready for. Blazing heat emitted from him, scorching your skin with a fieriness you so desperately craved. They stilled. Lingered.

Dave. Your voice cautious, velvety sweet, calling out to him.

The sounds that fell from his lips were beyond anything you could have prepared for. A booming roar reverberated through him. Filling the room. Consuming you. As quickly as the rousing fuse had been lit, it had just as quickly fizzled out mid burn.

Dave’s snoring was like a shock to the system. The warm buzz of arousal dissolved into a cold emptiness as you lay in bed alongside Dave’s sleeping form. No amount of lace or lack thereof, seemed to be enough to seduce the sluggish man, already nodding off when you had come slinking out from the bathroom. Propped up on pillows, his eyelids growing heavy with each forced blink as stared blankly at the television. His dinner plate picked over and discarded onto the nightstand.

This scenario you knew all too well— and regularly. The build up, always so hopeful. The prospect of Dave having his way with you, pure exhilaration. Your body so desperate, in need of a release that didn’t hail from a hurried moment alone with a tiny vibrating wand before crawling into bed with Dave’s sleeping form.

Your brain refused to shut off as you lay staring up at the ceiling, willing away tears. You finally settled on the only thing that made sense at this early hour. He no longer desired you like he once did. No amount of time or vacations away could restore that connection. Then there was also that outcome that you dreaded the idea of entertaining— maybe it just wasn’t you he desired.

The whole evening had been on a constant loop. Replaying and taking precedence over your usual fictional fantasies that unfolded upon entering a heavy slumber. The hotel suite balcony offered a reprieve from the room, quietly sipping your coffee alone.

It was mid morning when you decided to crawl out of bed, in desperate need of something to numb the dullness that settled behind your eyes. Sleep did little to ease the tornado of thoughts that swept through your mind as the sun rose over the coast of California. Your brain had a funny way of tormenting you with fabricated information. On high alert the minute it sensed uncertainty, in search of answers to unasked questions.

As the coastal fog burned off, you were able to properly take in the view. A colony of gulls flew by, their collaborative squawking was every bit as annoying as it was captivating.

Fellow early risers strolled the sidewalks below, coffees and large water bottles in tow, all absorbed in their little private worlds. Couples hand in hand, in search of the perfect ocean view to start their day. A strange feeling of resentment had crept in. These strangers, carrying on with their lives, seemingly unaware of the jealousy you harbored for their happiness.

Your thoughts trail back to Dave and the evening again. It was only the first day and the optimism around this vacation was starting to wane.

“Shit— I must have really needed some fucking sleep.” Dave groans as he joins you on the balcony, his hands rubbing the sleep from his eyes. The sheet wrinkles embedded into the side of his face matched the similar ones on his cotton pajama pants and gray sleep shirt. His sleep etched voice is one of your favorite things to wake up to each morning. “I don’t even remember falling asleep at all.”

His body molds into yours, caging you in against the edge of the balcony. He’s warm and soft first thing in the morning. Like a moth to a flame, his lips find your skin. Tiny wet pecks from the base of your neck to your temple.

There was a point in time where things in your marriage felt very easy and Dave wasn’t always so invested in his work. You never felt like you were competing with files and phone calls for his undivided attention. The infatuation he held for you was palpable, leaving little room for doubt or worry.

When you met Dave there was an enigmatic quality about him. Neither of you were in a relationship or seeking out one, but also not completely opposed to the prospect of exploring one if something happened to fall into your laps. A chance meeting at a bar when his drink had literally fallen into your lap led to the rest of the evening spent tucked away in a dimly lit booth. The buzz of alcohol had you talking his ear off, and he allowed you to do so, consuming every little detail about you.

Dave shared minimal information about himself. Very on brand for his reserved but alluring demeanor. Aside from basic introductory facts, the only real thing you knew about him was his recent discharge from the military and his onboarding career in the CIA.

By the end of the night, you felt there was something intriguing about Dave, completely drawn to him. He was kind, generous and clearly the greatest listener. Ideally, he was someone you could see yourself with, wanting to know the ins and outs of who he was. So much so, you gave him your number. Scrawled across a beer soaked napkin, the ink bleeding out as each digit was carefully written out. He even said he’d call, leaving you with a kiss on your cheek before rejoining his buddies and calling it a night.

It was a week before you heard from him again, nearly giving up any hope he would be even remotely interested in you.

You learned that Dave’s walls were strong. Built of the strongest concrete. Resistant and impermeable to the elements. Over time his walls couldn’t withstand the depth at which you were willing to endure for him. Slowly crumbling and exposed. Finding that underneath the rubble was a man who was all in. A man who loved hard and never once made you question his loyalty to you.

“We can blame it on the jet lag.” You laugh softly into the coffee mug, taking another sip— definitely in need of more.

“Good morning, Honey.” He says, nudging his aquiline nose into your cheek, instinctively turning into him.

“Morning, Babe.” Dave turns you, the top of your robe slides off your shoulder— exposing the lace set you were still wearing.

“You’re still wearing it. Didn’t even get the chance to peel it off of you like I wanted to last night.” Pulling at the robe belt, the front falls open. Dave’s eyes widened, taking you all in, his irises now a deeper shade of his usual brown. “

“Yeah, well—“ You huffed, suppressing the impulse to acknowledge the hurt that was still ever-present.

“Fuck— Baby, I’m sorry. I'm two for two now. Let me make it up to you?”

Dave’s hands breach the inside of your robe. His hips flush to you— he’s hard, morning wood ready and eager. His deft fingers slide up the length of your spine, your skin covered in goosebumps once he reaches the clasp of the bra.

“Morning coffee breath— I’m gonna go brush my teeth.” Your head swerves his oncoming kiss, pulling the front of your robe closed again.

A hitch in your confidence. Curling in on yourself as you dislodge your body from where he has you pinned. That hot coiling response building in your lower abdomen, moments ago desperate for the way Dave wants you, now subsiding to a low simmer.

“You— um, have those calls you still need to make this morning?” You ask him, standing half way through the door, turning enough to catch the sunlight illuminating the bafflement on Dave’s face.

“Uh— Yeah. Still need to make those calls.” Dave’s dejected tone hits you like a bucket of ice. His head hanging and palms digging into his eyes.

“How long do you think it should take?”

“Few hours, give or take. Done by noon at the latest.”

“Okay. Maybe, if you’re up for it when you’re done— maybe we can go to the pool? Lounge a bit. Have some drinks. I got some new bathing suits, and have been dying to wear them. I think you might even like them.” An olive branch in the form of you served on a platter wearing minimal clothing. The likelihood of Dave accepting is rather favorable.

It’s unmistakable, devouring you— all conspicuous like and intense. Surveying every inch of your form leaning against the doorway.

Up the length of your smooth bare legs. The front of the robe flapping with the ocean breeze offering a peek of thigh and black lace. The fingers of your free hand toy with the collar, making it lay askew across your chest. A single breast exposed to cool morning air, nipple tight against the sheer material.

His gaze finally meets yours, shoulders lowering to their normal level. The slightest lift at the corner of his mouth, tip of his tongue gliding over his full bottom lip. Both of you landing on the same page, temptation reciprocated with blatant irresistibility.

“Yeah— Yeah, we can definitely do that.” He replied, his smile widening, the corner of his eyes crinkled— the Dave you fell in love with all those years ago in his truest form.

“Okay. I’ll order us some breakfast then. More coffee too. I drank the whole pot.” There’s a giddy feeling erupting inside of you. It seems like it’s been ages since you’ve seen Dave smile— genuinely smiling.

“Not surprised by that one bit. Hey—“ Capturing your attention before you’ve completely left the balcony. “I love you, you know that right?”

“Of course I do. I love you, too.”

Maybe it’s complacency that makes you feel like things within your marriage are stagnant, even borderline dull as of recently. The lack of regular intimacy, a normal thing all couples encounter at some point through their years together, not a telltale sign of extramarital meandering. Maybe that’s also not a bad thing. Just a season of life. A small hiccup in your otherwise normal and loving relationship.

As promised, it’s noon by the time Dave wraps up his final phone call and you’re both sitting atop the roof of the hotel. Basking in the sweltering rays of the California sun is exactly what was needed after being cooped up in the room all morning.

Breakfast in bed while Dave paced the length of the balcony. One phone call after the next, all varying in degrees of duration and intensity based on how animated Dave’s hand gestures and contorted expressions were. You had delivered his plate of eggs, sausage and toast during his first call, leaving it on the small table along with a fresh pot of coffee. He kissed you and mouthed a ‘thank you’ before sinking his teeth into the burnt buttered bread and continuing his meeting or whatever it was he was doing.

The minute he walked in announcing he was finished, your two piece suit was on and you were throwing Dave’s swim trunks at him from across the room. Tote bag containing pool lounging necessities— sunscreen, sunglasses, current book, wallet —was packed and waiting by the door. Your sheer excitement filled the room, a contagious feeling in the way Dave was mildly laughing at your frantic antics.

Either you both were the only ones staying at this hotel or no one else found joy in a gorgeous rooftop pool like you did. In the few hours spent lounging poolside, there was one, maybe two, other guests that also had an afternoon by the pool on their itinerary, too. There was a silent understanding among everyone that they stay in their respective spaces, evenly spaced out.

No one was complaining though. Fewer people meant less people lined up for cocktail refills at the bar. Fewer obnoxious conversations you didn’t have to drown out while focusing on the romance novel you were close to finishing. Zero avoidance of bodies in the water while Dave and you took a dip to cool off. Aside from visiting the pacific, this is how you intended to spend the rest of your days in California.

The moment you dive into your book, time and everything around you becomesa faint distraction from the fictional world you're absorbed in. The sheriff with his cowboy drawl and ridiculously handsome mustache, falls for the sweet baker. A reunion of past lovers, doing life together somewhere on the east coast in the small town they both reside in. A typical smitten cowboy vying for her love and attention at any chance he gets. There’s a permanent smile plastered across your face, dog-eared corners for future you to return to with the intention to relive the passages all over again. Page by page, you’re so engrossed with their whirlwind romance— you never want it to end.

The book consumes you longer than you planned for. So much so, you're unaware of the fact that Dave is no longer immersed in the LA Times he picked up in the hotel lobby earlier. The inked paper now folded neatly and discarded on the ground next to your tote.

Dave’s tortoise colored shades blocking out the sun and hiding the fact that he’s passed out. For how long, you’re not sure. Breathing is light and rhythmic. His usual thundering snore trades for small puffs of air from his parted lips. His bare golden chest, now a pale shade of red— shit!

Folding the current page of the book, tossing it to the end of your lounge chair, you sit up in search for more sunscreen for Dave, and yourself. Sifting through the contents of your tote, finding the bottle conveniently at the bottom. Hating the feeling of residual lotion getting between your jewelry, you remove your rings and toss them into a secured pocket inside the tote.

“Dave? Babe, wake up!” Gently nudging his bare shoulder to wake him.

“Hmmm—“ Dave grumbles a string of incoherent sleep laden words, lifting his head in your direction.

“Sorry. You passed out and I was so caught up in my book, I didn’t realize the umbrella shade wasn’t covering us anymore. You’re not completely burnt, but we’ve been here for a while. Sit up and let me put some more sunscreen on you.” You motion for him to sit forward, then squeeze a heaping amount of lotion in your hand, tossing the back into the tote.

Dave hissed, his back arching as you smooth the lotion over his warmed skin, allowing himself to ease into your touch after a few tensed moments. His head hangs below his shoulders as you continue to work the sunscreen over every inch of him that’s exposed to the blazing sun.

“Fuuuuck— that feels nice.” He groans when your touch switches to a different pressure. Adjusting your focus from protecting him from the harmful rays to pampering him, working out the built up tension he carries around daily.

Your fingers dig into the meat of his back as they glide up the length of his spine, pinching and squeezing over the rounded muscles of his shoulders. Thumbs pressing into the tender spot in his neck he’s been rubbing at for the better part of the last few weeks, craning his neck to the side. So relaxed you can barely make out his mumbled appreciation. “That fucking knot has been bothering me— Ouch! Fucking hell, woman!”

“Shh! So dramatic.” You laugh, easing up on the pressure. Your hands still lingering, smoothing over his broadness, taking advantage of the closeness.

“Oh, quit it. Those hands always were fucking magic, though. Already feels better when I move it.” Demonstrating how limber and loose it feels, rolling his head from side to side.

Were. His use of past tense doesn’t go unnoticed. It might have just been an unintentional slip, but its use isn’t lost on you in the slightest. It feels like it’s been ages, since you had explored each other— more than just a fleeting brush of hands. Reveling in an endless honeymoon phase, well beyond the traditional sense. You can only assume he had that same realization too, hence his choice in using were instead of are. But this moment feels too good to dwell on the logistics of proper past and present tense, so you push the thought aside.

“I’m sure if you play your cards right, there’s plenty more magic these hands can do later.” You playfully purred, not missing the way Dave’s eyebrows jut up from behind his sunglasses— that catches his attention.

You settle back into your lounge chair, sliding the straps of your bikini top down and off your arms, turning it into a makeshift strapless top as you prepare to cover yourself in a fresh layer of sunscreen.

“What are you doing?” Dave tilts his head forward, just enough so he can peer at you over his glasses.

“What does it look like I’m doing? I’m reapplying some on myself, too.” Running the oily lotion up your arms and shoulders.

“Here. Let me help you. Seems only fair.” His hand reaches out to you.

“It’s fine, Dave. I can manage.”

You’re not sure why you're shocked by his offer. Probably because you just assumed he would be diving back into reading up on worldly news. Top slimy politician was fighting for his life against rather damning accusations— the man is guilty, solely based on public opinion polls and your inherent duty as a woman to always believe the woman. Research shows more couples are putting their careers first, waiting to have children well into their thirties— that one does catch your eye, making a mental note to snag the article at some point. Sure, you can manage, but you also don’t want to. Not with him right here, so willing and capable.

“Don’t be stubborn, Baby. And don’t think I won’t drag that sweet ass of yours over here if I have to. Give me the bottle and sit down.”

It feels incredible. You have to remind yourself that you’re both in a public setting. This isn’t the time nor the place to let the salacious side of you self-indulge, but Dave’s hands are inducing the most carnal thoughts and it’s taking everything in you to not haul him back up to the room.

Dave had practically hauled you into the chair. Maneuvering you both into a comfortable sitting position, his legs spread and feet planted firmly on the ground and you practically sitting in his lap.

The task at hand is long forgotten, no longer a priority or even a relevant thought as you melted into him. His chest firm against your back, thighs caging and tight against your own.

It’s when his hands cup your breast that nearly sends you into another dimension, so brazen and menacing. A practiced musician, slowly plucking each string of his beloved instrument as the chords play the intro to his well rehearsed song. Rolling your peaked nipples between his fingers, the fabric of your top adding just the right amount of pinched pulsation. Your eyes fluttering shut as your head falls back onto his shoulder, stifling a moan as pleasure surges through you.

“I swear to god, Dave— fuck! Someone is going to catch us! ahh! Y-you need to s-stop before…”

“Hmmm. I don’t know, Baby— I think you want them to see. Want them to catch my hands all over you. Hear the sounds I’m able to pull from you. I could probably fuck you right here and no one would even care.” Dave murmurs into your ear. A husked sonorous tone that has you completely surrendering to him.

He seems to have this whole thing thoroughly thought out in a brief amount of time. Keen to his surroundings, already having scanned the entire area, aware of the people situated in cabanas on the far corner of the pool— paying no mind to either of you. His methodical nature takes hold, even as exposed as you are, he’d never put you in any situation he didn’t have complete confidence in.

“Dave—“ Your body writhes with each continuous change in motion, the way he’s oscillating between a dizzy tweak of your nipples and the sudden dart of his tongue grazing your ear lobe.

“You’d like that wouldn’t you. It’s been so long— fucking miss the way you feel, Baby.” Fuck. He’s not wrong.

You might have even mentioned you would be into it at some point. All vulnerable and the slightest possibility of being detected. It was more thrilling than you had expected it to be. You weren’t even ashamed how you were so absolutely turned on by your own boldness.

“Please—“

“I bet you’re fucking wet for me too. Hmm? Would take much— pull those skimpy little bottoms to the side, bet I’d slide right in.” God you were! Unquestionably so, and throbbing.

His hand traveled to where you’ve been craving him for so long, fingers brushing the top of your bathing suit bottoms.

“Christ! Don’t you d-dare put those lotion covered fingers anywhere near my— Fuuuuck!”

Dave wouldn’t dare, but that doesn’t mean he won’t work around it. His hand cupping your clothed mound, your eager hips rocking against the heel of his palm. His face smashes into your cheek when he feels how wet you are, your bottoms sticky with arousal and clinging to your pussy as he slides two fingers back up to your aching clit. Groaning as he takes your lobe between his teeth and gently bites down.

“Tsk tsk!” Clicking his tongue in a menacing manner. “Eyes open, Baby. Need you to keep watch, can’t have anyone seeing you while you fall apart.”

You’ve missed this side of him. Spontaneous sex was always something that was a regular occurrence in your early relationship even well into your marriage. You always looked forward to the days he’d come home without so much as a hello when he walked through the front door. His briefcase and coat were abandoned somewhere in the entryway— I missed you so much today. Need you right now —and then he was fucking you like a starved man against the wall in the hallway.

“Dave—“ Your lashes flutter, the sun unforgiving as you fight to keep your eyes focused on your surroundings. Your body so desperate for pleasure, so willing to succumb, just needing a little help to get there.

Each tender circle he draws over your clit has your brain muddled with bliss. A restrained whimper escapes, doing your best to concentrate as Dave continues to work you into a euphoric mess. But it’s so hard when your body has been yearning for this, all of this, for so long.

Your nails bite into his thighs as your lower abdomen begins to tighten.

“Baby, you’re gonna have to be quiet. Those gorgeous sounds are gonna get us in trouble.” Fuck! Almost there! So fucking close—

BUZZ BUZZ BUZZ

“Dave— is that…” The lounge vibrates, halting Dave’s movements. The orgasm that was just starting to barrel towards you, vanishing from your grasp.

“Shit! I, uh, think someone saw us—“ What?! No one is even paying attention!

Dave extricates himself from the chair, adjusting his sunglasses and his pronounced erection bulging under his swim trunks. He hastily grabs for some things as you sit perplexed by the sudden change in his demeanor. Your sexy audacious husband is gone before your eyes— leaving you with the tight lipped cryptic Dave, who you can’t seem to get a read on.

“What the fuck, Dave!” Watching as he slips on his sandals and throws his shirt over himself, playing no mind to a single button.

“Let’s finish this later— when we get back to the room, hmm? I’m gonna… go get us more drinks.” He says as he kisses the top of your head and heads in the direction of the bar. Hoping he brings back some shots, because you’re gonna need something strong to take the fucking edge off.

“Yeah— sure…” You say. Stunned and breathless.

You're not sure if you want to cry, scream or laugh as you crawl back into your chair. Maybe a mixture of all of them. What a sight that would be.

That brief glimpse of the fun adventurous Dave was intoxicating, even now your body is still buzzing and aroused. There’s a pang in your chest at how quickly he was able to mold back into the man you’ve needed for the past year, yearned to have back. Then instantly closed off and distant as if it never happened. Maybe the sun was getting to you, that whole moment some fucking hallucinated fantasy.

Rather than dwell on it, you push the hurt aside. You reach for your book and settle back into the chair. Finding where you left off and jumping back in with the handsome sheriff, who literally worships the ground that this woman walks on— must be nice.

“S’cuse me ma’am. Sorry to bother you, but is this seat taken?” A deep voice breaks your concentration, realizing he’s in fact asking you if the unoccupied seat next to you is available.

A man in his mid forties, maybe early fifties is standing at the foot of the chair next to you. Your sunglasses hide the fact that you're giving him a once over, noting every detail about this random stranger who’s decided of all the empty seats, he wants the one next to you.

His hair is slightly disheveled in a deliberate manner. Peppered streaks of gray throughout his curly locks. He’s wearing green and red plaid swim shorts and a worn dark blue t-shirt, kind of an odd pairing but it seems to work for him. You notice a dimple hidden beneath the gray scruff that almost hides his angular features. He seems harmless and rather handsome— plus, it would be rude to turn him away with no explanation.

“Nope. Feel free to use it.” You smile at him kindly and go in search of the words you had just read.

“Thanks so much.” He says as he removes his shirt and settles down on the lounge chair.

“Of course. It’s no problem at all.” You tell him.

You don’t even dare to look in his direction. You imagine this is what Eve felt like, tempted and allured by carnality in the form of an apple. Except your carnal desire is a fizzling orgasm your husband couldn’t even be bothered to deliver, now reawakening at the sight of this beautiful man.

You would never act on anything, even as beautiful as he was, you were married and you love Dave— but that didn’t mean you couldn't admire, sunglasses masking your lingering eyes.

“I’m Joel by the way. Joel Miller.” His hand outstretched to you, that damn dimple even more pronounced when he smiles.

“I take it you’re not from around these parts are you now, Joel.” You give him your name and return the handshake— his grip is rather firm, but friendly.

“What gave it away?” He laughs. There’s a hint of southern drawl woven into his rich voice.

“Well, you don’t seem like the California boy type for starters. Not that that’s a bad thing— I just get the impression you’re far from home.” You fold another page and drop your book into your bag, your attempt at reading sidelined again.

“You’d be correct then. Texas— born ‘n raised. Since we’re makin’ impressions, I’m gonna guess you’re not from ‘round here either?” He looks over to you, his arms crossed over his tanned chest. The breeze catching a few of his curls, tossing them about.

“You would also be correct. So what brings you all the way west, cowboy?”

“My daughter, actually. She’s gettin’ married this week. Fiancé’s family is out here and they’ve got connections and what not, so they’re able to do it here at the hotel. They put me up in one of the suites, bein’ I am the father of the bride an’ all.”

“Oh! Congratulations then. I’m sure you’re so excited then.”

“Yea’. Crazy seein’ her all grown up an’ goin’ off on her own. Still got one more though. She’s turning 16– little wild thing she is. Keeps me on my toes, but I love her for it.”

You get the sense that being a father is one of his favorite things. He hasn’t stopped smiling since he started talking about his kids.

“You and your wife must be so proud.”

“Nah, no wife— or girlfriend. Jus’ me and my girls. So, now that I’ve bothered you with my life story. What brings you out this way to California?”

What am I even doing in California? You think to yourself. It’s then you catch sight of your husband at the bar. Dave is already looking in your direction, leaning against the wood counter, waving at you with his phone glued to his ear.

“See that guy over at the bar? The one talking on the phone.” You wave back at Dave. You pick up on the shift in his demeanor from where you're sitting. His jaw clenched and brows furrowed enough you can make out the deep lines across his forehead. If you didn’t know any better, you would think he was shooting daggers at Joel— but you do know better, and that’s exactly what’s happening. “That’s my husband. We’re supposed to be here relaxing— not working. But he’s over there taking a phone call, when he was going to grab us more drinks and I’m here relaxing. Maybe one day he’ll actually show some interest in me again— until then it’s just work work work. Geez— I’m sorry to dump all of that personal shit on you. Like you even care about a stranger's marital problems.”

“No need to apologize— I get it. My ex and me had our own issues. Tried to work through them, for the sake of the kids n’ all.” He says, waving off your apology.

“I’m guessing it didn’t go so well?” You look out over the pool, catching a few gulls passing over. You can already sense his heavy answer before he even gives it to you.

“Well, she’s my ex for a reason. But it’s for the best. And not saying that’s what’s gonna happen for you. We love our kids and do this whole co-parentin’ thing better than when we were married. Umm— y'all got any kids?”

“Uhh— no, no kids. Yet… I think? I mean, we both talked about once our careers were established we would start trying. And we did try for a bit, but never got pregnant, which we were okay with— figured it would happen when it happens. But now, I’m not really sure if it’s what he wants anymore.” You pick at the polish on your nails.

You realize it’s been awhile since you and Dave readdressed the conversation about having kids. It’s always been idling in the back of your mind. Becoming a mother was something you would love to do. With Dave never really ever being present or interested in any sort of in-depth conversation, you haven’t really discussed where you both stand now on the topic.

“Have you asked him?”

“No. I haven’t. I probably sh—“

You’re cut off when Dave reappears, holding nothing but his phone and wallet.

“Hey, Sweetheart!” There’s a hint of irritation in his voice, his tone a slightly higher pitch than usual, though he tries to hide it as he bends to kiss the top of your head.

“Babe, this is Joel. He’s here for his oldest daughter’s wedding. Joel, this is my husband Dave. Where’s our drinks?” Attempting to ease the weird tension he brought back with him instead of your drinks. .

Dave’s glaring at Joel. His lips pressed in a tight line and his nostrils flared. Irritated? No, it’s jealousy. He’s jealous and it’s oozing from him. Dave was jealous at the attention, all innocent and friendly, that you were receiving from another man.

“Uh, nice to meet you.” Dave reaches over you, taking Joel’s hand in his. He’s friendly enough, even though his smile looks rather forced. “We hate to run out on you like this, Joel— we’ve got dinner reservations later on and the sun is starting to get to me. You don’t mind if we head to the room early, Babe.”

“Yeah, of course, Baby. Let’s go— you probably need more water and some rest before dinner.” You get up from the chair to pull your cover up dress on and begin to gather everything between yours and Joel’s chair, throwing it haphazardly back into your bag. “It was so nice meeting you, Joel. Hope your daughter has a beautiful day and you have a great time.”

“Thank you. Now you two get outta here and enjoy your evening. My brother is wanderin’ around somewhere. I’m sure he’ll end up here at some point. Nice meetin’ y'all.” Joel says, giving a cordial nod and a two finger wave.

You call out to Dave when you realize he’s already halfway to the exit, hoping he’ll snap out of whatever this thing is he’s doing. Knowing it’s more than just the sun that’s bothering him.

“Dave, what’s going on? Are you okay?” You ask, stepping into the elevator with him.

“I’m good. Got a bit of a headache. Probably just too much sun.” His thumb smashes into the floor number. The elevator doors slowly obstructing the rooftop view.

The walk back to the room felt like it was never ending. The slap on your sandals against the carpeted floor and exchanged hello’s with the sweet old lady dragging far more bars than she could handle were the only sounds echoing through the long hallway.

Dave’s body, all broad and inflexible, blocked the room door as he searched for the key card in his wallet.

“Dave? Are you going to talk to me and tell me what’s actually going on?” You ask softly.

The door beeps and Dave pushes it open. He seems to not have lost all his senses because he holds it open for you.

“Dave, will you at least look at me— please?” You toss everything you’re carrying onto the bed, watching him walk over to the floor to the large windows.

Even from behind, you know he’s wearing his sharp scowl. Proven by the way his hip is cocked out and on hand resting on his waist, head hanging with his attention on the floor. Too embarrassed to acknowledge he might have overreacted up at the pool.

“Dave, were you jealous?.” You ask, your voice velvety and sweet. Taking a few tempered steps, you close the distance between you and where he’s standing, needing him to know everything was okay. You smooth over his solid back, all brooding with his shoulder blades tightly drawn together. One hand sliding around to his chest and the other reaching for the hand hanging at his side, intertwining your fingers with his, your grip tightening around him. “Baby— you were, weren't you? It’s okay if you were, you know. It’s obviously a natural reaction to have. I know I’d react the same way if it were you and some gorgeous woman. But baby, you know I only have eyes for you and only you— always. I love you, Dave.”

“I love you and I’m sorry.” Dave sighs, his hand squeezing back. I overreacted and shouldn’t have— it's implied without him actually voicing it, but you know he means it.

“Did you still want to go out for dinner? If you’re not feeling up to it, we can just order in again so you can rest.” You ask him, resting your nose and lips against his sun warmed skin, breathing him in.

His aroma is pungent, but familiarly pleasant. A subtle note of coconut blends with his trademark spicy musk and sweat. It reminds you of the summer while you were dating, Dave whisked you away to Rehoboth Beach on the coast of Delaware. Renting out a beach house on the water where you spent every morning watching the sun flee the horizon from the front porch. Evenings spent walking near the water’s edge, recounting your favorite parts of the day and dreaming of a future together.

“Yeah, we can still go out. I just— I need a minute. Gonna get some fresh air.” He says, turning his head to tell you over his shoulder.

“Okay. I’m going to take a quick shower then.” You kiss the nape of his neck before you leave, grabbing the robe off the accent chair as you head to the bathroom.

At the flick of the switch, a soft glow of light cascades from the decorative wall sconces. Everything becomes very automatic as you move through the room, placing the robe over the sink, ridding yourself of your pool attire, thrown into a growing pile in the corner of the room. Intent on unwinding, trusting the spray of hot water will alleviate the weight of today’s tension before going out with your husband, until you hear Dave’s voice fading as he walks out into the balcony, muffled by the distant waves and passing cars.

“Hey, Ashley. It’s Dave, sorry about earlier…”

Ashley. It’s light and beautiful, and yet feels like the most threatening thing to have ever pierce through your heart. All your emotions flowing, congealing as one giant mass within your ribcage. Its numbness best describes the way you feel, hollowing out the pain in your chest. It's too much to deal with or even believe. You shut the door, avoidance being one of your worst traits— but if you don’t confront it, it doesn’t exist.

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#Dave york #dave york x reader #dave york x you #dave york x f!reader #pedro pascal #wildemaven writes #pedrostories

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teddy-bear-naps-and-random-snaps · 4 months

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flowerpotmage · 11 months

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Tight Grip, Broken Dam (1)

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You don’t question it anymore, when Miguel appears in your bed at night. He’s not there for sex, no, you’ve never even kissed—though you would be lying if you said you weren’t open to the idea of kissing him. He’s there for comfort. For rest. If only it could stay so simple.

Pair: Miguel O'Hara & GN!Reader

Notes: emotional hurt/comfort, cuddling, crying, bb got traumaaa! ambiguous relationship

Word Count: 1,092

Read this chapter on Ao3 here. If you like my work, please consider leaving kudos there as well! You do not need an account to do so.

A/N: hiiii my writer's block has been killing me, so i went back to my roots with some good old quickie comfort fic featuring spider-man. i hope the rust isn't too visible! (ps: your author [that’s me!] is nonbinary and has they/them pronouns!)

He’s there for comfort. For rest.

So when the blanket lifts and the mattress shifts under you with the fluid movement of his body sliding into place next to yours, you hum and shift to make room for him. You don’t get far before one of his arms snakes around your middle. There’s a brief moment where a TV show your mom used to watch flashes through your mind, a woman calling a man’s arms ‘pythons’ and biting her lip in a comical display of attraction. You remember the man in question, and you think if his arms were pythons, Miguel’s are anacondas.

The thought makes you chuckle through your nose.

“What’s so funny?” He whispers, his breath swirling over the back of your neck, tickling and warming the skin there in equal measure.

“Mm. Just something stupid from when I was a kid,” you mumble-whisper back, taking his hand in yours and pulling it up to cradle against your chest, your heart, fingers intertwined.

He hums, shifting and pulling you more snugly against him, resting his face on the back of your neck, the soft breaths from his nose going down the loosened back collar of your pajama shirt. It’s really just an old oversized t-shirt, one you’ve had for much too long and lined with holes around the peeling graphic that rises from the hem, but Miguel has never made you feel bad or self-conscious about it. You both understand the need to hold on to something from the past. He has his videos, and you have old clothes.

You let the silence grow, wrapping the two of you in its soft cotton cocoon. Letting out a deeper relaxed breath, you start to disentangle your fingers from his. His grip tightens, his body tensing so imperceptibly that if you hadn’t been pressed against him with nearly your whole body you wouldn’t have noticed. Even his breath catches for a moment.

“Shh,” you soothe. “I’m not going anywhere.”

He lets out a measured, shaky breath, nodding into the back of your neck. He squeezes your hand gently, and then releases it.

You hum, letting your hand rub comforting lines into his forearm, moving up and down the soft skin and hair. He’s had the forethought to take off his suit this time, at least, and donned the spare clothes you keep in your closet so that he doesn’t dirty your sheets with multiversal grime and blood.

His relaxed grip pulls you in even tighter now—his arm a roller coaster safety bar across your ribs, your back now a part of his chest instead of being pressed to it.

“You’re okay,” you whisper. “Everything is okay.”

You know it’s harder for him some days than others. The trauma of his loss, the weight of his self appointed responsibility in the wake of it, as if he can atone for his sin of having ever wanted.

And then he shivers, and with the fusion of your spine to his sternum it rolls through your own body as if it had started there. You realize, with his next shuddering breath, that he’s not shivering—he’s shaking.

“Miguel? Hey, hey,” you whisper again, shifting in his grip. The safety bar of his arm loosens enough for you to roll over to face him, and yet he still tries to hide his face in your neck, in the pillow. He’s not actually crying, not yet, but you can already see the dam beginning to spill over. It finally breaks when you try to duck your head to see his face, pulling back so you don’t go cross eyed looking for him.

The first tear rolls from his eye closest to the pillow, running a smooth path as it escapes to land on the pillowcase, and his face twists as he holds back a sob.

Immediately you pull him back to you, pulling his face against your collar bone, cradling his head and stroking his hair.

“I’ve got you,” you whisper into the hair above his ear. “I’ve got you.”

And the dam breaks, great shuddering breaths fighting their way out of his chest, up through his throat, out of his gritted teeth to land on you and the space between. The tears come in earnest, and soon your neck is wet with salt and grief, his face pressed into the juncture of your shoulder and neck as if it can protect him from whatever chases him. All the while he keeps his arms around you, his fingers fisting into the back of your shirt, digging into your skin hard enough to bruise. He doesn’t loosen his hold, not for a moment, as if any moment you could evaporate and only his embrace could keep your molecules from floating into the ether.

Eventually the shuddering gentles, then stops, the tears drying up altogether. You continue stroking his hair, your fingers gently grazing his scalp in soothing movements.

And then you do something you’ve never done before, instinct acting before you can second guess yourself at this late hour.

You kiss his hair.

His breath catches, then releases in a strong steady breeze across your salty wet skin and soaked shirt. All of the tension in his body seems to leave with it, his bruising grip going lax and his fingers releasing your shirt.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I don’t normally–”

“Don’t tell me you’re one of those ‘men shouldn’t cry’ types,” you mumble into his hair, tone light and teasing. Only now does it strike you how incredible it is that this enormous man who could probably level your apartment with minimum effort is bundled into your arms, face tucked into your neck. You wonder how it appears, him shrinking down to fit into the embrace of your much shorter frame.

“No,” he huffs through his nose. “No, I just…”

“I know,” you whisper into his hair, pressing another kiss into the soft caramel of it.

“Yeah.”

“Hard day?” you volunteer into the quiet after another moment of petting his hair.

He doesn’t answer with words, simply sighing and tightening his arms around you for a moment, pulling you closer before relaxing again. You hum, and the two of you stay like that, lulled to sleep by the soft rhythm of one another’s heartbeats and breaths.

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#miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o’hara #x reader #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara x gender neutral reader #miguel o'hara x y/n #time to add another section to my masterlist it seems

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glystenangel · 1 year

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Say You Love Me Too

Soft!Dom Choso x Afab!Reader Oneshot (Modern AU)

tags/warnings: 18+ MDNI, we gettin DOWN, best friend to lovers trope, comfort smut, choso’s a little obsessed with you, okay maybe alot obsessed, alot alot alot alot aLOT of praise, words of affirmation, scent kink if you super squint, oral sex (f receiving), nipple play, penetrative sex, raw sex, multiple orgasms, mention of a safeword but not used, one mention of cervix f*cking, one mention of drinking, aftercare and cuddles

summary: you’re venting to your best friend and he accidentally confesses to you

~4.6k words

thanks for reading and enjoy<3

_________________

“So, whats going on with you?”

You peer up at Choso over the tea he brewed from the plant riddled kitchen in his apartment, the steam obscuring his expression and thankfully your own. Although you could guess with certainty that he was searching your body language for any sign of discontent.

“Ah, nothing.”

Feigned nonchalance lines your voice, and you take another big chug of herbal liquid before setting ceramic onto mahogany. The tabletop just below your crossed ankles sports an assortment of neatly stacked books and unused marble coasters. Choso seemed to only display them for show, citing the ringless surface of his coffee table as justification for his laziness.

You two were catching up after you had asked Choso if you could come hang out. You hadn’t bothered waiting for him to reply, only reading that he had texted you back with a ‘yeah, door’s unlocked’ once you were standing outside.

He had dropped the chore he was doing to hug you as soon as you made it across the threshold, and you couldn’t help but close your eyes as you discreetly memorized his cologne. It’s a fresh, calming scent you could never fully place except in association with him.

Maybe you paid a little too much attention to that brief embrace, but you set aside your thoughts as you notice Choso staring at you expectantly. The fog of tea was gone, and you know that look. It had taken you years to recognize previously. Now, it is glaringly obvious as he sits across from you.

He drapes an arm over the back of the couch, “Everything alright? Is this about that guy you told me about?”

A corner of your mouth pulls down for a second, Choso could read you too easily.

“Oh, him?” You begin, and then you ultimately resign to clicking your tongue while making a slicing motion across your neck.

The space between his eyebrows furrows with concern, “What happened?”

You bite the flesh of your bottom lip, hesitating.

“Tell me.” Choso presses a large fist into his cheek, resting his elbow atop his thigh and staring at you intently.

It seems impossible for him to regard you with any sort of gaze less than piercing. In fact, Choso’s default state tends to sit in the realm of perceptiveness and placidity. It definitely came with the territory of having to watch over his little brothers for the entirety of his life thus far. He often had a hard time shutting off his protective instincts, even with his friends. Of course, that includes you.

You shrug under the intensity and partially dodge it by picking your tea back up, “He ghosted me.”

Choso reels back, offended on your behalf and tilting his head to the side with a disbelieving scoff.

“What the fuck?”

“It's okay, it was a couple weeks ago. I’m pretty much over it, just stings a little.” You trace a finger over the rim of your beverage, glancing at him and emitting anything but confidence.

You were over your last dating attempt, but the cowardly rejection still hurt your self-confidence. It was difficult for you to accept that someone you saw potential in had neglected your feelings, and worse, for an ungiven reason. It almost makes you doubt yourself, and you hate that.

Choso makes a contemplative noise, probably reading more of your thoughts.

The idea of that forces you to straighten your posture, “I mean there’s nothing else to it. I thought we had a connection, we liked a lot of the same shit…great sex...”

You give him a sideways glance.

Choso barely moves as you speak. The only time he does is when he blinks or swallows, the sweep of his lengthy eyelashes and dip of his Adam’s Apple punctuating his wordless reactions. The pale column of his throat stretches towards the hollow shapes of his collarbone, and you admire how they complement the strong silhouette of his shoulders. His entire frame is bulky and tall, which he claims is convenient during instances where he has to split up his younger brothers’ fights or during times when you get so plastered that he has to carry you home. The structured, milky planes of his skin are sharply contrasted by every other feature that defines the fine structure of his handsome face, all velvet, dark eyes and messily bundled strands of hair in deep shades of midnight. Even the swipe of black across his nose boldly complements the pretty set of his nose and lips. It was often a habit of Choso’s to absentmindedly tap the middle of the mark whenever he was thinking, coupled with clenching his jaw when annoyed or working hard on a task. The purpled skin underneath his lower lashes gave him a boredom marked countenance, but the gloom seemed to consistently disappear whenever he smiled.

As close as you are with him, it was sometimes hard to talk about your sex life with Choso when he always looked…like that.

Part of you has always been attracted to him, but friendship was safer. At least, that’s what you told yourself. He never said anything otherwise either, and you didn’t suspect he would.

It’s difficult to tear away from him, but you persuade your vision to analyze the cracks between the sofa cushions instead.

“Guess I missed some red flags.” You finish lamely.

Choso shakes his head, “Don’t blame yourself. That guy’s an idiot.”

You wave a hand into the air, “It’s whatever.”

“It’s not ‘whatever’.” Choso catches your eye.

You can see the broad movement of his chest tensing underneath his shirt, and the grit of his teeth in the set square of his jaw.

“I mean it’s happened before. Maybe he just had some things to work on emotionally and wasn’t ready. It’s okay.” You suggest, though you know you were being too nice with that explanation.

“It’s not. He’s an asshole.” Choso repeats, his tone even yet filled with immense reproach.

He doesn’t seem angry despite the slight scowl on his face, more frustrated. You’re not certain why though, so you decide to be blunt.

“Choso, what are you getting so worked up about?”

Choso opts for bluntness as well, scoffing incredulously, “You don’t deserve that and you shouldn’t be making excuses for him.”

You’re a bit annoyed now, it already stung and you expected at least some consolation, not to be lectured.

“You don’t think I know that? God, you’re being an asshole.”

His jaw clicks, and you dare him to say something with your eyes.

Choso goes quiet, settling in his seat as he lowers his sightline.

You wonder if you were too harsh as the air in the room seems to still. Not knowing what to say, you reach out to take his hand in yours. He doesn’t look at you, but accepts your touch and delicately wraps his hand around yours. Silence descends over you both, and a shiver runs through you as Choso brushes the tops of your knuckles with his thumb.

Then, he lifts his head. His eyes are set on yours, and you know something has revealed a shadow of itself in the way he considers you. An inexplicable something.

Somehow, you know exactly what it is.

“I would have never done that to you.” Choso finally says.

As soon as the promise leaves his mouth and your eyes widen in reaction, he bows his head and touches the smooth skin of his forehead to where your hands are still woven together.

“Shit. Sorry. Don’t say anything. Please.” He intakes a breath and you blink upon hearing the tremor running through it, “Now’s not the right time for that.”

“Choso.” You let go of his hand, cradling his face instead.

He allows it, but immediately drops his gaze once you make eye contact and tries to subtly pull back from your grasp.

“No- Sorry, I just-sorry. That’s not-” He stops himself, opting to press his lips together and seal them.

Gently, you slide your hands down to the back of his neck, tucking your chin to see if you can convince him to look at you again.

“Say it.”

Hesitation, and then you feel him melting into your touch. The skin of his cheeks is cold, but when he speaks the warmth of his breathing skirts past the heels of your palms.

“I love you.” He swallows, like the admission is poisoning him, “I…want you.”

You’ve never seen Choso appear so hopeless or apologetic.

Like it broke his heart to say it.

You don’t let the admission sink in for more than a second. You tug him forward and sense his hands startle until they automatically anchor into your waist the deeper your lips meet.

A desperate type of flavor colors the kiss, your entire body heating with unrestrained fervor as Choso’s hands move down your body and hook into your thighs. He easily hoists you up and sits you on his lap, wrapping your legs around his waist and swooning when he lets out a small moan between your lips.

Choso’s thumbs knead into the skin underneath your shirt, “Can we-”

“Yes.” You answer, and he bestows more eager kisses to your lips.

You feel him standing and you wrap your arms around his neck, swiping your tongue across his bottom lip as Choso carries you into his bedroom. Once your back hits the cool surface of his sheets, you start unbiasedly gripping fistfuls of his clothing to get it off.

“The couch would’ve been fine.” You mumble as he drags your shirt over your head.

“No.” He cages you between his arms, which are wiry and lined with veins you want to lick, “You said you hated my couch when I first moved here.”

You laugh at him remembering, and he smiles into the next kiss he gives you.

“Only the best for you.”

“So sweet.” You kiss him back, your stomach fluttering at his genuine words.

He starts shrugging your pants off of your hips, “Something about you makes me like this.”

As soon as you’re both stripped down to your underwear, the want you hold for each other slowly takes over. You fully explore the mind hazing feeling of his tongue gliding against yours, looping your saliva together and roaming your hands over each other’s skin.

A groan leaves Choso when your fingertips stroke against the fabric tented over his hardon, his grip on you tightening and you start getting shy.

Because, well, it’s Choso.

You only ever fucked him in your head and he was pretty private about what he liked from his exes.

He seems to notice your apprehension immediately, his nose hovering by the shell of your ear, “What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know what to do. With you.” You sheepishly admit.

The edge of his lip grazes your ear, “You don’t have to do anything.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure, I’ll prove it.” Choso reassures, kissing your cheek, “Just give me a safe word.”

Before you can stop yourself, you tauntingly blurt out, “Couch.”

An astounded laugh leaves him, “You suck.”

“Aw, I love you too.” You respond, smirking at the immediate effect it has on him.

He bites his bottom lip to keep from grinning, but it breaks out across his face anyway.

“Come here.” Choso leans down to capture your lips once more, mumbling sweet nothings as he trails kisses down the curves of your neck.

“Leave it to me.” He whispers, licking a spot at the base of your throat and nipping the sensitive skin there.

“I’ll make you feel good. Want to.” Choso continues, tracing your body with touches of his lips and hands so dedicated to pleasing you that you become wracked with trembles.

He tweaks your nipples with pinches of his fingers, teasing the taut peaks further with his tongue.

“Ah, Ch-Choso.” You arch your back, clutching at one of his hands as he uses the other to push the side of your hip flat to his bed.

“Wait.” He softly instructs, continuing to squeeze and lick your tits until you’re squirming underneath him.

Rushes of adrenaline roll down your body, collecting in your thudding core and visibly leaking your excitement into the cloth covering your sex. Choso is patient and attentive, and you wonder how embarrassing it would be if you came just from him playing with your tits.

Choso breathlessly rubs his thumbs back and forth over your nipples, concentrating on the growing splotch between your legs and your whimpering lips.

“Is this turning you on? You’re getting all wet. It’s cute.”

You try to keep a straight face, but you know that it’s not working. Hiding from Choso never worked.

He openly chuckles at the sight of you struggling, and you shiver from the low reverberation of it.

Choso coos at your obvious need, “Okay, okay. I’ll stop teasing.”

One last kiss to the marks he left on your chest, and then he crouches down to adorn the middle of your waist with a slow path of kisses to where you want him the most.

“So wet. Fuck, I’m getting so hard.” He mutters, pressing his lips to each side of your inner thighs.

“You don’t mind right?” He pulls at the waistband of your underwear, the sizable imprint of your arousal drenching the front.

“No.” You say quickly, bucking your hips into his face, “Want it. Please.”

He unfurls his tongue, using the pointed tip to draw a pensive line down the thin material ruined by your desperate cunt.

“I want it too.”

Sounds of satisfaction leave him more and more as he adds to the slick staining your panties. He kisses along the hems and then finally bunches them past your ankles to unceremoniously toss them on the floor.

Choso takes in the messy view of your pussy for mere seconds, and then he’s gripping at your bare ass to languidly stroke up and down your folds with the pink of his tongue.

As frantic and filthy as his motions are, he takes his time when his tongue starts swiping into your slick warmth.

You think he might be talking between noisy gulps of pussy, but you honestly aren’t listening and far more focused on how his nose periodically nestles against your clit. The malleable swells of your ass are spread apart by Choso as he continuously drools and bends his tongue into your excited walls.

He seems to like how your fluids dribble along his tongue, beading into his throat and giving him mouthfuls of your cunt.

The enthusiasm he has is so endearing that you reach for his hands, wanting to reciprocate with some sort of connection. The skim of skin has him glimpsing up at you before he takes both of your hands in his.

Choso’s thumb steadily rubbing across the tense grooves of your knuckles is so different from the firm, dizzying laps of his tongue, but you adore them both.

Once he’s collected enough of your precum on the flat of his tongue, he starts making long licks up the seams of your pussy that end with aggressively circling his tongue around the swollen flesh of your clit. Sucking at your clit, he devours every creamy drop of lust from your pussy so fast and well that you can hardly tell if he’s breathing anymore.

You possess a similar struggle, your vision turning to static and your breath continuously getting caught in your chest from how good he’s eating you up.

He’s moaning unbiasedly into you, like you’re the best thing he’s ever tasted. Like every squishy piece of your cunt is saturated with pure sugar and sex.

Choso then lets go of one of your hands, reaching his fingertips over your thigh and then placing the tips on your soaked nub. He rubs it back and forth, pressing the pads down in a bliss inducing pattern as he keeps fucking open your cunt with his tongue.

You feel every tastebud on his tongue twisting against your walls as far as he can reach, the hum of his lips buzzing electricity throughout your core.

It’s so good that you don’t even realize how many times you’ve already cummed into his mouth. All you can do is flinch and surrender under his keen administrations.

Wanton cries part your lips, and although your vision is blurry you manage to see Choso giving your wetness one last lick before he rises to kneel in front of you.

He keeps giving your clit loving attention, forcing your hips into a taut curve as he tucks his thighs beneath yours and lines himself up to your pulsing sex.

You peek over your quivering breasts to see the defined shape of his dick, the hardness twitching and grooved with aching veins. He’s as big as you expected, and just seeing his girthy cock is already making your stomach ache and twist. The head is swollen thick with a slit sheened in precum, a glob of it slithering over the sides and forming a dewy drop next to the coarse nest of hair over his balls. He holds the base while looking into your eyes, and the thickness twitches in his hand.

“Say the safe word if you need it, okay?”

Choso makes sure you’re watching him, and at your faint nod, he starts pushing in.

He doesn’t stop mashing your clit back and forth with the stickied pads of his fingers, slowly stuffing you with his cock and bringing your hips together.

“W-wait. Choso-I’m about to-!”

You’re cumming again as he puts his dick in, sliding in so effortlessly it’s like he was always meant to be there.

“Oh, fuck!” You let out a whine as you begin recklessly fucking into each other, each synced push of your hips leaving you both gasping.

“Your cum feels so good on my dick.” Choso groans, the whites of his eyes showing as he reels his hips back.

“Want more of it. Gonna keep making you cum.” He pants, pumping faster and prodding at your cervix.

He hits an eye crossing spot in the ceiling of your pussy, and that’s when your whole body seizes again.

“Stay there. S-Stay, please please please, Choso.” You nearly black out between begs, but Choso doesn’t have to hear it more than once.

“I got you, here. Here.” He grunts, clasping your hands in his again to hit that spot within you until you’re screaming.

Choso stops to look at you every now and then, tenderly scanning your face to make sure you feel nothing but pleasure.

“Oh my god!” Your nails indent crescents into the backs of his hands and he slots his tongue into your mouth in time to hush your next delight filled mewl.

“Shit, I’m gonna cum.” You can feel every stutter of his hips, and his pupils are completely blown out as he urgently searches your eyes, “Wanna cum with me?”

“Mm,” You taste the salt of your tears pooling in the corners of your mouth, “Please, Choso. Now, please.”

Instead of answering, he kisses you, forcing you to only hear the sounds of his tongue in your mouth and the squish of your pussy as its molded into the shape of his dick. It pummels into your walls until you can’t deny each other any longer.

“I’m cumming- Ah- Choso-” You weakly confess, Choso’s ropy gushes of cum following the spurts of heady fluid from your overwhelmed pussy.

“Good girl.” He says, observing you through a half lidded squint and the cloudy lens of his own uncontrollable shudders, “Good girl. Good girl. Showing me how good you feel? Thank you.”

Wispy whines prelude Choso pulling out, and he soothes his hands over the ravaged areas of your body as you do your best to hold onto his neck and stop shaking.

“Hey, it’s okay.” He murmurs into your hair, delicately kissing a spot on your jawline, “You were so good for me. Perfect.”

He lays you onto the bed, cupping your chin and dotting your face with more kisses.

“I’m gonna clean you up, ‘kay?”

You make a tiny sound of agreement, and Choso rests a hand along your body as he makes his way off of the bed, only separating at the last possible moment.

He returns quickly, wiping you off with a warm, wet cloth and then taking you back in his arms while covering you with his fluffy comforter.

“Sorry I had to go.” Choso settles you on his chest, enveloping his hands behind your lower back.

“It’s okay, thank you.” You kiss the base of his neck, sighing into his skin.

“I really like you.” He says, and you poke fun at the sudden, timid proclamation.

“I know,” You gesture to the marks he spotted all over your body, and at one you bit on the side of his throat, “I really like you too.”

“Yeah? Got a little crush?” He muses, preening at your proximity.

“Huge one.” You shift closer.

“That’s funny, me too.”

“Embarrassing.” You tease, moving your gaze to his cupid’s bow.

Choso lets out a long exhale, “I know. Can’t help it though.”

You give him a happy peck on the lips, and he cradles the back of your head as he sweetly returns it.

A pout accompanies the wave of exhaustion that floods you when you pull away from Choso, “I want to keep talking to you, but I’m so sleepy.”

“We can talk for a little longer. Whatever you like, as long as I can keep holding you.” Choso bargains, and the offer makes your heart melt.

“Sounds fair to me.” You beam, and he kisses your forehead.

“My heart’s still beating like crazy.” He admits, skating his fingers around your face.

“Mine too.”

Choso’s fingertips fall to your lips, cascading along your chin and neck before settling between your shoulder blades. A thoughtful hum leaves him as he lightly rakes his fingers across the space of skin, studying the places he bruised on your neck.

He briefly presses his lips together, “Okay, I’m going to calm down.”

Even as he says so, his breathing hitches when you wink at him.

“Okay, you do that.”

He inhales, and a beat of silence occupies the space between you too.

“God,” Choso cranes his neck to inch closer, “You smell so good.”

“Choso.” You admonish playfully, propping yourself up to create some distance.

“Okay, okay. I’m sleeping.”

He settles into the sheets, loosening his grip on you and pretending to close his eyes. You almost believe him, but your instinct doesn’t at all.

Handfuls of seconds tick by, and then he peeks his eyes open, an enamored smile cinching his mouth upwards.

“Hi.” You give him a cheeky wave with a couple of fingers.

“Hi.”

In an instant, he showers you with kisses, smushing your cheeks with a hand and making your heart swell.

“Okay. Now-” Another couple of sleepy kisses are paired with a content sound that you echo.

“I’m done.” He lets go of your face, sinking back against his pillow and genuine sleepiness now overtaking his voice.

“Goodnight.”

You snuggle into the nape of his neck, worn out from your shared affections, “Goodnight, Choso.”

_________________

The sun drapes its silken rays through Choso’s windows the next morning, muted orange urging you to wake.

A relaxing, undulating motion lulls you out of your slumber. You haven’t moved at all from your position on Choso’s chest, the solid muscle of his stature supporting your aching figure. The natural inclination to raise your head and check if Choso is awake becomes interrupted by the sensation of him tenderly stroking your hair.

And, he’s talking quietly.

“So beautiful, even asleep.” He tries to stifle a good natured laugh, but you still feel it a little between your hearts.

“I don’t think you even know how precious you are to me…how highly I think of you. I can talk to you about anything.”

“You’re gorgeous too. Drives me crazy.” He curls a strand of hair around your ear and repeats it more softly.

“...Gorgeous.”

Like it’s your name.

“I don’t think I’ve said all of this to you yet. At least when you’re awake. If you ever woke up during one of our camping trips or after party sleepovers I would probably die of embarrassment.”

He makes a thinking sound, and it ripples through you. You’re speechless.

“You know it’s kind of stupid, I always imagine talking to you. What you would say, how you might react to some good news I have. You exceed my expectations every time though. It’s pretty close to pathetic-”

Choso scoffs and it’s tinged with shame, “I hang on every word you say.”

The confession has you starstruck, you had been so clueless.

“I don’t even remember when I started falling for you, maybe a few months after we met? When I finally asked myself why I hated every guy you dated? Or, maybe after you met my brothers for the first time, and they told me I looked at you like you put the stars in the sky. I don’t think I realized it even then. Didn’t wanna freak you out, I didn’t want you to think I only wanted to be your friend to get in your pants. I’d fucking hate myself if you ever thought that.”

Deep exhales wash over you, “I hope I don’t fuck this up, for as long as you’ll have me.”

The dark haired man gives the top of your head a kiss, and then lets out another sigh.

“You’re my best friend. I love you. Every time I think about love, I think about you.”

He contemplatively plays with your hair, using another hand to draw random shapes into your back.

“I always, always think about you.”

The well of emotion in your heart nearly spills over, you don’t think anyone has ever told you anything close to the casual details Choso shares about his thoughts on you.

You try to keep your tears in, but Choso continues with a small snicker, “I’m getting ahead of myself…but that’s how I feel. I hope you wake up soon, I miss you.”

There’s a pause, and you finally can’t take it anymore, tears fall from your eyes at the doting words you unintendedly overheard.

“What’s going on? Hey, wake up.” Choso is immediately concerned, holding you close and tucking your hair away from your face.

“Nothing, I just - I’m really happy to wake up next to you. And I’m sorry I didn’t tell you how I felt sooner.”

“That’s alright. You’re worth the wait.”

Choso never seems to run short of patience or kindness for you.

He wipes at your tears, “What are we going to do today?”

You cease your sniffling, pacified by his considerate assurances, “Um, I don’t know. It’s the weekend, we could get breakfast and then watch that movie we had been meaning to last night?”

“That sounds good.” Choso kisses your cheek.

You yawn after stretching your arms out, “Oh, do you have popcorn? I really want some.”

“Some what?” Choso mumbles, caressing your sides.

“Are you even listening to me?” You jokingly narrow your eyes.

“Of course, hang on every word you say.” Choso lifts his chin, smirking.

You bring yourself nearer, nose to nose, “Oh, so you can compliment me when I’m awake too?”

He pales in epiphany, “That’s-”

You use a kiss to muffle his protest, “I was hanging on every word too. Believe me.”

Choso softens completely, a myriad of stars speckled in his eyes as he stares up at you. You drink in his utterly captivated face, the effort of last night dewing his features and blooming on his musculature.

You know exactly what he’s thinking, and he confirms it when he speaks again.

“I love you.”

“I love you too, Choso.”

_________________

End Notes:

i feel like choso likes plants bc he likes taking care of people/things🌱✨

comments and messages on this are appreciated if you'd like to leave one <3

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