#or when they explain shit to you really softly and gently

[rafestacenda]

HAUNT ME GENTLY— chapter one

WARNINGS— drowning, implied death & almost death

the heart monitor beeps. the hospital lights are bright. too bright for rafe’s vision after being alone, unseen, and unheard in pure darkness for so long.

he’s not sure how he survived it. the sinking yacht, the harsh waves rocking the boat as the storm hit hard, the screaming and crying out for help from his many business partners and investors on board.

a cold shiver runs down his spine at the memory. he for sure, thought that was the end. the end of his life. he thought he was gonna die right then and there as the yacht sharply tipped back and he was thrown off the deck with a big splash, the cold sea uncomfortably enveloping him. he couldn’t see. couldn’t breathe. couldn’t even try to swim back up to the surface before everything went pitch black.

shortly after he awoke, the nurse explained to him that he was found on shore by a young woman who had called the ambulance. ‘pale, dying’ she had described him to the operators on the phone.

when he had asked about the woman, the nurse was strangely hesitant, mumbling a few not-so-helpful descriptive words of her appearance before leaving the room.

weird.

until now. now, his eyes are wide open, staring up at the white ceiling above. he’s finally unhooked from all the stupid iv and vital monitors, he’s never felt freer.

the sounds of heels clicking against the tiled floor of the hospital is heard. just another visitor he thinks.

until the footsteps grow louder and suddenly— the door swings open.

there, you stand in the doorway in your pink strap, babydoll dress paired with matching mary janes and thigh-high lace stockings. your bouncy blowout cascades down your back as he glances up to meet your doe gaze.

holy fucking shit if you weren’t the sweetest damn thing he’s ever looked at his whole life.

“hi.” you speak softly. quietly. fuck, even your voice is sweet.

he has to mentally pick up his jaw from the ground as he swallows, looking you up and down in a way that would’ve looked like he was shamelessly checking you out to the other people— not that that was really his intention anyway.

“who are you?” he asks, his breath hitching.

you smile. soft. “i saved you.”

his eyes widen and his lips part momentarily in shock. genuine shock.

you? you were his savior?

“i’m guessing the doctors didn’t tell you it was me?” you almost question him, but not quite. you observe his reaction, tilting your head as your gaze never leaves him.

“uh, no.” he admits.

you smile again, gracefully seating yourself on the edge of his bed as you tell him your name.

fuck, fuck, fuck.

the way you sat down was perfect— your name was perfect. you were perfect. he couldn’t find a single flaw in you even if he tried.

rafe slightly shifts in the bed, heart drumming rapidly against his chest.

the room feels colder now. or warmer. he can’t tell. he can only stare at you, unable to tear away his gaze. his voice is grave when he speaks, almost in suspicion. “you just happened to be on the beach when i washed up?”

you swing your legs gently where they hang off the edge of the mattress. your stockings brush against the stiff hospital sheets. “i live nearby.”

your response is blank. your eyes are as empty as your tone. not cold, not happy— just, blank. it almost scares rafe. not just because of that, but also because you say it so simply. like it was just a coincidence. like you weren’t the reason he was breathing in this exact moment.

“thank you.” he says with a slight shaky breath. he stares at you, harder than before. he observes your pretty face, your long lashes that flutter when you blink, your plump lips.

“it’s not a big deal.” you hum, shaking your head. your hair bounces gently in the movement.

there. there it was.

you, acting like it was a normal occurrence. to save strangers whose bodies wash up on shore, unsure of whether they were alive or not.

you glance up at him, noticing his gaze that never leaves you, “you stare a lot.” you point out bluntly.

he blinks, mouth open to say something before he closes it again. he’s taken aback by how straightforward you are. your words don’t even register in his mind at first until a small, barely noticeable smirk forms on his lips.

“you’re pretty.” he tells you shamelessly.

caught off guard, your brows raise up ever so slightly, but you don’t say anything. just stare at him like you’re waiting for more.

he shifts, pushing himself up on the bed, “look, i wanna thank you—”

“you already did—”

“no,” he cuts you off gravelly. “i wanna thank you properly.”

your face scrunches in confusion before it softens. you don’t interrupt this time.

“let me take you out. we can get dinner, or whatever you want.”

you stare at him for a moment, smiling solemnly. “you don’t have to.”

“i want to.” his voice is stern, like he won’t take no for an answer (he really won’t.)

your expression is soft as you stand up, smoothing out your dress as you exhale out your nose. “okay. maybe next time.”

his heart skips a beat at your response and he almost smiles until you turn around.

“wait— where are you going?” he sits up sharply, ignoring the stinging pull at his side.

you tilt your head to the side, looking at him one last time, that same soft but sad, unreadable expression on your face.

“can i get your number atleast?” he calls out to you almost in a panic.

you don’t respond. you only smile at him before walking away. your walk is entrancing. you move so gracefully, so elegantly— like a ghost.

and just like that, you slip out the door with a soft click, leaving him there questioning what the hell just happened.

taglist: @maybankslover @fastlovela @zanydruid @mattyskies @cokewithcameron @saviorcomplexrry (dm or ask to be tagged)

[goldeunoias]

I’m such a fucking sucker for men who go all soft toned when speaking to their significant other or like a kitten or something like shit man you guys understand what I mean right like

[adorechris]

your presence — chris sturniolo (2)

includes … counter sex, p in v, making out, awkwardness, cumming inside (don’t do it please), slight size kink, aftercare, chris being a sweetheart

not proofread !!

1 2

you walk back downstairs to the living room, trying to act like nothing happened. but the memories of what just happened keeps flashing in your mind.

nick and matt both look up at you. “is chris coming down here soon?” nick asks, shifting to make more room for you. you sit down next to nick, matt on the other side of nick now.

“uh…i—i don’t think so.” you stammer out, your mind going blank. you couldn’t just lie to them—but you couldn’t let them know that you just saw chris have an orgasm.

matt gives you a puzzled look. “you don’t think so?” he questions, making you look up at him.

“well…he was sleeping, so.” you lie, your eyes never meeting his. you hated lying to them. you felt guilty. but you just knew chris would be pissed if you told them.

nick and matt simply nod, not thinking too much into it. they turn their attention back to the tv. you look at the tv, staring at a corner blankly. your thoughts keep traveling back to him. how his eyes rolled back briefly, how his cheeks flushed with embarrassment, how attractive he looked—

no. you never thought of him as anything more than one of your best friends. until now…who could blame you though?

around an hour later of laughter and bickering, nick and matt fall asleep. your eyes feel heavy yourself, but you fight off sleep. for now, at least.

nick has his head resting on your shoulder, matt snoring softly, his chin to his chest. you sigh, a smile on your face at nicks sleeping habits. he’s always done this, almost every sleepover.

but you don’t move him. instead, you get out your phone, scrolling on it mindlessly.

everything suddenly reminds you of chris. your stomach flips as you rememeber what happened just over a hour ago. your thighs press together at the thoughts.

you giggle quietly at some stupid video on your phone. you hear someone coming downstairs, and instinctively you look up.

chris.

you shift, sitting more upright. you gently lift nicks head up, careful not to wake him, to a more comfortable positon.

when your and chris’s eyes meet, his cheeks flush and he immediately goes to the kitchen. he opens the fridge, hoping you don’t come up to him.

but you do anyways. you feel like you need to talk to him about it for some reason. as if it’d help things be less awkward. you stand up quietly, walking over to the kitchen. you stand on the other side of the fridge door, waiting for him to close it.

when he shuts it, he flinches a bit at the sight of you. clearly not expecting you there. “shit—“ he mumbles, putting his pepsi down on the counter.

“uh..hey.” you say quietly.

“hi.” he says back.

gosh, this is so awkward. he shifts his weight on his feet, rocking back and forth subtly, his eyes never meeting yours. he stares at the ground as his hair just barley covers his eyes. you swallow thickly.

“about earlier, look chris—“ you begin, but he’s quick to interrupt you.

“don’t talk about it. please.” he pleads, looking up at you, his eyes wide and pleading. it’s clear he felt embarrassed, but damn, this was nothing like him.

“no—no it’s nothing bad. i just don’t want it to be awkward between us.” you explain. you hesitantly step closer to him.

“it won’t be. i…don’t think.” chris mumbles out. he stuffs his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants awkwardly, his actions completely contradicting his words.

“well, if it helps…i don’t see you any different.” you try to say to make him feel better. but it didn’t really do anything. something chris has always been good at is keeping eye contact. like now. despite his embarassed demeanor.

“oh. well thats—that’s good, right?” he breathes out, chuckling softly.

you nod slowly, watching as he shifts. his eye flicker up to yours once more. this time they stay longer. more intent. his blue eyes seem darker—maybe it’s the dim lighting on the kitchen, maybe it’s just in your mind.

“are you sure? that it’s a good thing, i mean.” he asks, his voice almost cautious; hesitant. “it feels different now.”

“different?” you repeat, tilting your head slightly as you look into his eyes.

chris pauses, unsure. like he doesn’t wanna ruin everything. as if he could with a few words. “it’s just—i’ve never done anything like that. not while thinking about you, at least. not when you were right there.” he explains, his voice quiet. low.

the way you continue to look at him makes him want to say more. but there’s nothing left to say. nothing he can think of, at least. “did you hate it? or…think it feels different now?” he asks, not wanting to press to far, but wanting to know.

your breath hitches, and you shake your head slowly. “i didn’t hate it.”

chris steps closer, hesitantly. your guys’ chests are almost touching, but not quite. he doesn’t want to mess up more than he thought he already did. his hands are still in the pockets of his grey sweatpants, his shoulders tense.

the air feels thicker now. heavier, almost.

“look…i haven’t stopped thinking about it. i get embarrassed every time.” he breathes out, his eyes trailing down you before they meet your eyes again.

your cheeks flush. “then why’d you ask me to not talk about it?”

“because if we do…” he sighs, his breathing getting a bit deeper. “i don’t wanna do something stupid.”

“something stupid?” you question dumbly, your voice quiet.

he hums, his lips right in front of yours now. you feel his breath on your face. your thighs clench together instinctively. you feel your own breathing get shallower.

“like kissing you. or—or touching you.” he says quietly, his breath hot, his eyes trailing all over you.

you stare at him for a second, taking in the words. realizing the moment. “i wouldn’t mind.” you respond. his eyes lock on yours as you say this.

one of your hands trail up his back, to the back of his neck. he stares into your eyes for a moment before he slowly closes the gap between you two, placing his lips on yours in a hot, desperate kiss. one that pours all of his feelings into it. your eyelids flutter closed as you kiss him back, pressing your body impossibly closer to his.

the kiss is hesitant but hot at first. but it quickly turns deeper once your hand moves to his hair, tugging it lightly. the kiss is hungry—more urgent. his fingers twitch before they move. one to your waist, the other cupping your cheek, like he can’t believe this is happening.

and neither can you.

“i didn’t know you’d feel like this about me.” he mumbles against your lips, never breaking the kiss.

“neither did i.” you respond, the kiss getting sloppier.

he chuckles lightly, but before either of you can respond, he’s slowly backing you up until your hips meet the counter. his hand that was on your waist dips beneath your shirt, feeling the warmth against your skin. you sit up on the counter, your legs dangling off, wrapping them around his waist. the countertop is cold against your thighs, a stark contrast to chris’s touch.

he pulls away, looking into your eyes with such hunger. “if this is too much,” he murmurs, “tell me to stop.”

“please, don’t stop.” you say breathlessly. that’s all he needs. he kisses you again—sloppy and hot—before his lips trail down your jawline, tasting you. you exhale at the feeling, like a relief.

his hand under your shirt moves up, and he realizes you have no bra on. he pulls back, and you help him take your shirt off.

he admires you as he sees your body. it’s better than he could’ve imagined. he swallows thickly. “fuck, you’re beautiful.” chris compliments before his hands carefully play with your breasts, the feeling better than you expected. you moan, but he kisses you again.

his hands roam now, touching everywhere he can. like he can’t get enough. he breaks the kiss only to take his tank top off—which you help him. it’s clearly you both need this. you glance down, seeing the noticeable bulge in his sweatpants. your thighs clench and you don’t need to check to know your panties are soaked.

you hesitantly place your palm over his clothes bulge, making him groan, burying his head in your shoulder. thats a good sign.

his body presses against yours, your legs wrapping around his waist again. “i don’t wanna mess this up.” chris admits quietly, lifting his head up to meet your eyes.

“you won’t.” you assure him. then when you say that, you tug at his sweatpants, to which he pulls them down. your eyes travel down to look at his bulge.

his dick slaps against his abdomen, his dick thick and long. your eyes widen, looking up at him. “you’re huge.” you breath out, completely forgetting you already knew that from earlier.

he chuckles, shaking his head. “you’re ridiculous.” he says before he pulls down your shorts and panties in one go. you lift your hips up to help him.

he slowly runs a finger through your heat. teasingly slow. the action makes you moan out quietly, your eyelids fluttering. “so wet, all f’me hm?” he asks his voice low and gravelly.

you nod desperately, your eyes locking on his once more. “n—need you.” you say.

you know he’s big—you also know that you need to feel the stretch. the stretch that would burn so bad yet hurt so good.

he looks up at you, smirking. his cocky demeanor finally returning. “yeah baby?” he asks, bringing his finger up to his mouth, tasting you.

you nod, whining quietly. the sight is so hot. he grabs the base of his dick, pushing your hips forward slightly off the counter. one of his hands snakes to the small of your back, helping you stay in place. your stomach curls with anticipation and excitement.

he slowly pushes in—the burn delicious. you moan out, completely forgetting nick and matt are asleep in the living room. chris groans, pressing his forehead against yours. he keeps eye contact with you until he bottoms out.

you feel so full. “fuck—i needed you.” he says, not moving his hips yet. he lets you adjust.

after a few moments, he slowly starts thrusting in and out of you. you whimper, gripping his shoulders. “you’re so big chris…” you moan out, your eyelids fluttering. his eyes stay locked on yours, watching your face contort into one of pleasure.

sweat builds on chris’s brow, and he looks into your eyes as he sees your eyelids fluttering. he smirks almost cockily. “yeah? y’feel me hmm?” he says breathlessly.

you nod desperately. you moan out louder when he picks up the pace, the wet sounds of skin slapping against skin filling the room. “yes—so—so good—fuck—“

he slowly and sloppily connects his lips to yours, almost missing them completely in the process. he kisses you, muffling your moans and his groans.

wet slapping sounds fill the room, and chris parts his lips from yours. his jaw falls slack as he pants louder when he feels your walls clench around him. he adjusts you, pushing you closer to him, making the tip of his dick hit the spot that makes you see stars. you moan louder, biting your lip to try to suppress the sounds.

his pants begin to sound a bit like a whine, making you peel open your eyes. when you do, the sight is beautiful.

his brows pinched together, his jaw slack, eyes squeezed shut, thrusts becoming sloppier, it’s clear he’s struggling to keep up.

you move one of your hands to his hair, the other cupping his jaw. you tug on his hair lightly, making him let out a whimper. a whimper. he didn’t mean to. he slowly opens his eyes, meeting yours.

“fuck—i—mmppmm…” he struggles. “b—baby m’close.” chris moans out, his eyes struggling to stay open. his thrusts become impossibly sloppier, his eyes pleading up at you. he looks so submissive. as if you won’t let him cum.

“chris i’m close too—please—“ you beg. you don’t even know what your begging for. the two of you completely forget matt and nick are only in the other room, sleeping peacefully.

his thrusts speed up, repeatedly hitting the spot that made you see stars. “chris—m’cumming—fuck!—“ you cry out before your body tenses, your legs shaking as you cum hard. your eyes shut, letting out uncontrollably loud moans. he fucks you through your orgasm, prolonging it.

as you come down from your high, his thrusts are sloppy, desperate, it’s clear he’s at the edge. you whine at the slight overstimulation, but ultimately you don’t mind.

“p—please let me cum—i need it…” chris whines, his eyes threatening to roll back every few seconds as he tries to keep them on yours.

“cmon baby, be a good boy and cum for me, yeah?” you say in your sweetest voice, to which he nods quickly like an absolute slut.

he whines loudly, his body practically shaking as he cums. his hips still, his eyes roll into the back of his head, and his dick twitches as it releases warm ropes of cum inside you. his jaw falls slack, his head burying in the crook of your neck.

after he finishes, he slowly lifts his head up, his eyes meeting yours. “did i hurt you? was that okay?” chris asks, the two of you panting lightly.

“that was amazing, chris.” you say, smiling softly and tiredly.

he looks visibly relieved. “okay, okay i’m glad.” he breathes out. he slowly pulls out, careful not to hurt you. you both whimper at the feeling, and you feel so empty.

chris stands there for a moment, recovering from his intense orgasm. when he somewhat does, he grabs clean wipes to clean you up. he kneels down between your legs as he carefully cleans you up. you sigh, the feeling nice.

“i didn’t know you could whimper like that.” you comment jokingly. he looks up at you, his cheeks flushing.

“don’t mention it.” chris says jokingly. once he cleans you up and makes sure your okay, he helps you get clothed.

he puts your panties, shorts, and baggy shirt back on. you sit on the counter, your legs still shaking subtly. chris clothes himself. you try to stand up as he’s getting his clothes on. but you suddenly grab onto him, making him turn, worried. “are you okay?”

you giggle sheepishly. “yeah, i—i can’t really walk…” you admit quietly. chris’s cheeks flush with embarrassment but also pride.

“guess i’ll have to carry you.” chris suggests, to which you nod. he picks you up bridal style, carrying you upstairs to his room. the two of you giggle the whole way. chris glances over to make sure nick and matt are still asleep.

“shh, shh i don’t want them to wake up.” chris whispers.

“s’probably too late.” you respond quietly, jokingly. right now, it doesn’t matter to either of you.

it’s not awkward anymore. and neither of you are embarrassed.

a.n. - i hope you guys like it!!!!!

🏷️@cayleeuhithinknott , @izzylovesmatt , @sturnlovematt22 , @urfavvbilliemunch , @awesomesauce12345 , @sturkneeohloww , @sturnsxbbyeilish , @chrispycremedonut , @chrisgirltillidie , @sturnslotto

[bumblebeesfromvenus]

Eye Candy 🍬

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Jason Todd × chubby/curvy!reader

FINALLY. I've been wanting to get this out for forever but shit kinda hit the fan and I'm also sick right now lol

This is pure comedy. So much fun to write!! This is for all my thick girlies <3

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Jason wants you to meet his brother (Dick) and his best friend (Roy). As if that wasn't enough of a bomb, doubt starts to creep into your mind at the realization that your curves would make you stand out like a sore thumb in the Wayne family. Jason proves you wrong by taking you to a bar and letting Dick and Roy walk right into a trap.

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"You want me to what?"

"Hey, it's not that big of a deal-... yeah, no, it's... it's a big deal." Jason winced, brows furrowing while he flexed his hands around his mug.

Coffee- of course it was, though it was far too late in the day for even more caffeine, or so you'd scolded him once again.

You were staring at him, slack jawed, eyes widened just slightly as a brief huff of disbelief left your lips.

"Jay, you just told me you want me to meet your family. In what world is that not a big deal?!" You exclaimed, your tone a little more screeching than you'd liked.

He sighed, shoulders dropping ever so slightly, his eyes turned away as a frown etched itself onto his features.

"It's just Roy and Dick, s'not really meeting my family." He mumbled, toying with the handle of his cup, scratching his nails against the ceramic.

"Look, you don't have to, alright? I just thought-... I guess I don't really know what I thought."

Your heart ached. You've never seen him so defeated. So utterly downtrodden. His back slouched, head hung low while his gaze was focused on anything but you.

That heartbreaking glimmer in his eyes that never failed to make your own water.

Gently, you pried the mug from his grip and set it aside, taking his hands in yours.

The action made Jason avert his attention back to you, looking like a kicked puppy.

"I do want to meet them. I really, really do. Because they are your family, whether you want to admit it or not." You smiled softly, watching as he lit up immediately, a huff of relief making his chest feel lighter.

"I'm just nervous. And worried, I suppose? What they'll think, you know. I'm sure that I'm not exactly what they imagine when they think of your girlfriend." You chuckled nervously.

Jason, on the other hand, looked confused. Eyes narrowed, You-can-see-the-gears-turning-but-nothing-is-happening confused.

"What in the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

You cackled at the expression on his face and the goofy tone of his voice.

"Okay, let me put it like this. You're family is a bunch of buff, unfairly jacked and lean super geniuses. Not to mention how good the girls look. And Kori? She's a literal space princess! I just feel like I don't quite fit in. Can you imagine someone like me at one of those Galas? They would lose their minds-"

"'Someone like you? You mean a gorgeous, beautiful, stunning plump lady with a brain so big I sometimes wonder how your neck is still intact? You mean someone like that? Because we could use more of that, trust me." He chuckled dryly.

"Also, you're hot as fuck." He deadpanned, blankly staring at you.

You playfully rolled your eyes, tracing the space between his knuckles.

"A. I know, B. you're biased. I mean, they all probably expect you to date some super model." You explained, sighing.

You knew your worth. You knew that you were beautiful and perfect just they way you are, even beginning to love yourself.

But when challenged with a family full of hotties like the Wayne's plus Gotham's elite, it was hard not to feel just a little out of place with all your curves, bumps and pudge.

Jason's lips were pressed together in a thin line before he inhaled sharply and pinned you down with his gaze.

"Alright, first of all, they have no expectation of who I'd date because I was fuckin' dead, and when I came back my only interest was revenge and smashing peoples heads in. If anything they thought I would die alone."

The bluntness of his words and the expecting raise in his brows had you shell shocked, and pleasantly surprised.

"You're making problems for yourself that don't exist, ladybird." His tone turned soft as did his eyes, enveloping your heart in a blanket of warmth.

"So, respectfully, you don't have a point." He concluded for you, leaning back against the couch with a satisfied noise.

"Huh, I guess I don't." You breathed out, a smile spreading on your face while Jason already sported a wicked grin.

"There ya go. Now, can I brag about my hot, smart and curvaceous girlfriend to my dickhead brother and loser best friend? Because, sweetheart, you're one hell of a woman." He smirked, leaning in to get you all hot and bothered by his proximity.

You bit your lip, trying to act unaffected by his antics.

"Okay, fine," You groaned, feigning annoyance, "But only because I love you." You finished, failing to hide the smile on your face.

In one swift motion, Jason grabbed you and pulled you into his lap, your back pressed firmly to his chest. You let out a startled noise that morphed into a laugh.

"See? Just had to butter you up a bit, pretty girl." He nosed at your neck, a grin showing off his pearly whites while his arms were snaked around your middle.

"What can I say? You have a way with words." You smirked, looking back at him over your shoulder.

Jason chuckled and turned you in his lap, making you face him.

"I do have a very skilled tongue, as you know." He winked at you, kneading the fat of your hips in his hands.

You groaned and rolled your eyes before grinning and pinching his cheek.

"So, you up for tomorrow? It'll just be at a shitty bar somewhere. They won't judge you, I promise. And if they do, they can take it up with Fuck-" Jason raised one arm and flexed his bicep, "and You." With a wide smile, he lifted his other arm, and you watched as his muscles practically inflated.

You giggled, squeezing his arm with an approving nod of your head.

"I'll be there. I just have some errands to run, so I'll meet you at the place, yeah?" You replied sweetly, pressing a kiss to the tip of his nose.

Jason's face scrunched up at your kiss, making him look like an adorable little bunny.

"Sounds good, ladybird." He replied, smiling.

There was something hiding beneath that smile, though. Something sinister. Mischievous. You squinted your eyes at him.

"... What are you up to?" You asked suspiciously, crossing your arms over your chest.

"Who? Me? I'm not up to anything." He replied sweetly, batting his lashes at you.

"Mhm." You hummed, searching for a hint in his teal eyes.

You could see his resolve cracking, his gaze breaking from your for just a split second. You continued to stare at him. Jason cleared his throat and gave you a tight smile before striking.

Quickly, he pushed you off his lap, making you stumble to the floor of your living room on shaky legs before he lowered himself to the ground, hooking one arm around your knees and hoisting you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

You screeched, digging your hands into his hoodie so you wouldn't fall.

"What the fuck! What are you doing?!" You screamed, cracking into a smile when you heard Jason cackle mischievously.

He moved quickly, rounding the couch and any obstacles with ease.

"Well, you see, I've been stumblin' over my words all day. Care to help me loosen up my tongue at bit, doll?" He grinned, hurrying to your bedroom.

"Jason!-"

Your voice burst with a laugh before you were interrupted by a loud crack when his hand met the back of your thigh.

You gasped, quickly followed by a slap against his clothed back.

"Remember that name, angel. I have a feeling you'll be using it a lot tonight."

.·:*¨༺ ༻¨*:·.

"So, she coming?" Roy asked curiously, settling back into the deep-set lounge with his drink.

The redhead was seated in the middle, between the brothers, earning a shove and an annoyed eyeroll from Jason.

Dick snickered, taking a sip of his beverage.

"Why are you so obsessed with my girl, dude?"

"We just wanna make sure she's real. I'd hate to break you out of Arkham again, little wing." Dick grinned from behind the rim of his glass.

"Wow." Roy clicked his tongue, nodding along to the diabolical comment.

Jason only stared at his brother blankly, blinking once, then twice.

"Too far?" Dick asked, wincing slightly.

"Whaddya think, dickhead?" Roy sighed sharply.

"You should be so glad that I'm in therapy. Otherwise I woulda wiped the floor with you right now." Jason mumbled, taking a swig of his drink.

"It's the Piña Coladas talking." His brother chuckled awkwardly.

Jason just snorted, leaning against the soft cushions.

"To answer your question, yes, she's coming." Roy lit up, excitedly setting his beer down on the table.

"Really? So we get to meet the fabled ladybird, huh?" The redhead grinned, bumping his shoulder with Jason's.

He only shook his head and playfully rolled his eyes at Roy.

"Why didn't she come with you, then?" Dick asked, brows furrowed.

"Had to stop by the craft store." Jason replied simply, finishing his drink.

"Oh, so it's like that? You really did get yourself a pretty little thing, didn't you?" Dick smirked, watching as Jason chuckled in response.

"Dickhead's right. They not only make pieces of art, they are ones." Roy agreed.

Dick scoffed at the nickname.

"She's pretty alright. Looks like she belongs in the Louvre." Jason responded with a smile, then immediately regretting that decision when Roy and Dick began to look like the cheshire cat.

"Ooooo, Jay's in looooove." Roy teased with a chuckle.

"Did little wing find an even littler wing? That's adorable." Duck sniffled, wiping a faux tear from his lashline.

Jason grumbled in response, flipping them off.

"At least I didn't cheat on my girl." He mumbled sharply, hiding behind his second -or third?- glass of the night.

Dick's smile fell and he was reduced to a muttering mess, pouting like a child.

"God, you guys are actual children. Can I have one night-"

they both glanced at Roy when he stopped speaking, his lips parted as he stared at the entrance of the bar.

"You're lettin' flies in, carrot top." Jason said blankly.

Roy let out a low whistle, loosely gesturing to the bar before a smirk cracked on his face.

"Look at that piece of Eye Candy over there."

Dick followed his line of sight.

"Fuck me." He cursed, eyes wide.

"Look at those hips, jesus-"

"Now that's a woman."

Jason was mid sip, uninterested in this mystery woman ordering a drink at the bar. But, he glanced up anyway, only to choke on his drink when his eyes landed on you.

He sputtered, coughing as he felt the alcohol go up his nose.

"Woah, she got you good, didn't she?" Roy teased with a laugh, patting his back.

"Yep.." Jason croaked out, holding back a laugh.

"I'm telling ladybird." Dick said quickly.

Snitch.

"When will she be here anyway? It's been a while." He questioned, pulling up his sleeve to take a look at his watch.

"Soon, soon.." Jason replied, clearing his throat.

"Man, she could sit on me, and I'd thank her. And that rack-"

Roy continued letting his eyes trail over your body.

As amusing as Jason found this little misunderstanding, he couldn't help but grind his teeth and clench his fists.

Meanwhile, Dick delivered a slap to the back of Roy's head.

"Pervert! You don't talk about women like that." He scolded the redhead.

"Says you! As if you don't wanna be suffocated by those thighs or-or knock out on that tummy, I know you do!" Roy said sharply, pointing an accusing finger at Dick.

"Of course I do, but I didn't say it out loud, now did I?" He replied in a condescending tone.

"You fucking-"

"Oh, look, she's approaching us." Jason said nonchalantly, leaning back into the cushions with a grin, watching as the petty bickering between his brother and best friend stopped immediately.

"I call dibs! I saw her first." Roy said quickly, straightening his posture and trying to look unbothered while you approached.

"God fucking dammit." Dick cursed, being left to grumble with his Piña Colada.

He looked at Jason, who was comfortably leaned back with a smirk.

"How are you so chill about this?!" Dick asked irritated.

"You'll see." Jason grinned.

You walked towards them with a smile, the drink you'd just ordered at the bar in your hand. Roy put up his most charming face and quickly cleared his throat.

"Hello there, sweethea-"

his entire face dropped when you placed a hand on Jason's shoulder and pressed a kiss to his lips. His hands instinctively went to rest on your hips, giving them a gentle squeeze.

"Hi, baby." You greeted sweetly.

"Hey there, ladybird." Jason grinned, glancing at Roy and Dick.

The redheads jaw was on the floor, speechless while his gaze flitted between you and his best friend. Dick was just as shocked, but quickly broke out of it.

"THAT’S LADYBIRD?!" He yelled, earning harsh stares from other guests.

Dick quieted down with an apologetic smile and leaned closer to Jason.

"You fucking asshole! Why didn't you do anything? You let us say all those things-" at the realization Dick went pale.

"He's gonna beat our asses." Roy mumbled, still staring at you and Jason.

"... Fuck."

You just stood there dumbfounded while Jason had a grin on his face that made a shiver run down Roy's spine.

"What things?" You asked, you brows furrowed in confusion.

Jason pulled you into his lap, resting one of his hands on your thigh.

"Don't worry about it, angel." He said softly, pecking your cheek.

"How the hell did you end with such a charity case as Jason?" Roy asked bluntly, slumped in his seat, defeated.

"Excuse me?" You sputtered with a scoff.

"That's a lot of nerve coming from someone looking like an affair baby." You shot back.

Dick burst out laughing, Jason cackling along side him while Roy only stared at you.

"And she's feisty? Fuuuuuuck.." He whined.

"Nice to meet you, ladybird." Dick gave you a friendly smile and nod, still wiping the tears from his eyes.

You returned the smile before leaning in to whisper into Jason's ear.

"Is the rest of your family also like this?"

"Like what?"

"Loudmouth assholes." You replied, staring straight at Roy who looked like you just slapped his mother.

Jason laughed, throwing his head back when he saw Roy's face.

"Ah, no. Some of them are quiet assholes."

Dick scoffed, immediately defending himself and his siblings with big hand gestures.

You chuckled as you watched.

"Don't be sad, carrot top," Jason began, giving Roy's shoulder a squeeze, "You couldn't handle her if you tried."

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

Jason loves fat girls. Argue with the wall <3

Let me know what you think! 😚🩷

More of Jason and others -> 💫

《DC Taglist》: @allysunny @arkhamknightscxnt @gaozorous-rex-blog @hellonhells-x

Comment to be added 🐝🫧

─── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ────── ⋅ ∙ ∘ ☽ ༓ ☾ ∘ ⋅ ⋅ ───

[isasweetie]

hii my love! can you please write something about assistant!reader x rafe sneaking off to the kitchen pantry (like the one in the show) and making out? maybe it starts with rafe calming her down because she forgot to do something for sofia and rafe reassures her—and somehow they start making out. i probably wrote alot, but thank you anyway, and even if you don't write, i love your work so much!

love u angel bby <3

rafe is such a kind man, the least he could do to calm you down was give you a kiss ♡ (sirens!au)

you were a mess of a girl when you stormed into the kitchen, the staff instantly leaving the room to give you space. mascara running, nose sniffling and twitching like a bunny, eyes wide and glossy like a fawn… all because you had forgotten to pick up sofia’s favourite napkins for the upcoming gala.

rafe cameron hears your gentle cries from upstairs, instantly stomping down to see what the commotion is about. his muscles are a bit tense, the billionaire on guard in case there’s any danger.

it’s a bit of a shock when his eyes land on you, holding onto the counter with trembling hands. why on earth was his wife’s assistant crying all alone in the kitchen?

his shoulders soften underneath his polo shirt as he hurriedly walks towards you, going to hold your shaky hands and pry you away from the marble counter. “hey— hey, what’s goin’ on, sweetie?” he asks, eyebrows furrowing in confusion and concern.

“sofia— she wanted polar bear white napkins for the gala and— and i forgot so now we’re stuck with the stupid cerulean blue napkins from last year!” you cry gently, squeezing his big hands back, too emotional to care that it’s rafe who’s comforting you. “she’s going to be so upset.. oh rafe, she’s already frustrated at me for not reminding the gardeners to water her tulips, she’s going to fire me!”

“woah, woah..” he sighs, trying to calm you down. “shh, don’t think she’s gonna give a shit, alright? i really don’t,” he assures gently.

it doesn’t seem to help, because you cry again and your eyes squeeze shut. “no, she’s going to fire me! cerulean blue is so last year, it’ll be so embarassing when her guests come and—“

he shuts your cries and complaints up with a gentle kiss to the lips, as if testing the waters. it seems to work, because when he pulls away, you’re quiet and confused. so he leans in again, giving you another, longer kiss. “better?” he asks gently after, minty breath kissing your face.

oh, how you love his kisses. you shake your head no, sniffling, possibly just wanting more. rafe is a gentleman and he senses your neediness, so he kisses you again. you’re brave enough to kiss back this time. he lifts you on the counter as you practically sit in your own tears, his lips not leaving yours.

one of your manicured hands goes to his bicep, the other on his scalp and scratchy buzz cut. his tongue pertrudes your lips, going to invade your mouth. every movement he does is slow, gentle … he knows you’re fragile right now, so he’s going to treat you as such.

when you pull away for breath and your wet lashes flutter as your eyes open, you ask, “didn’t you say we weren’t supposed to do this anymore?”

he displays a little half-smile, finding your question sweet. “yes, but when i see one of my workers upset, i’ll do whatever it takes to fix it. i’m a generous man, aren’t i?”

“yes sir,” you answer his question softly, confirming that he is generous. “but i’m not technically your worker, m’sofia’s,”

“y’get paid by me, though,” he explains simply, and you nod gently at his logic.

so when he leans in again, you don’t stop him. he’s just doing his job, after all.

[jamminvroomvroom]

as sick as it sounds, i loved you first. 2

LN x fem!leclerc reader

PART 2 OF 2 -> read part 1 linked HERE!

here we go again guys, you know the drill! follows directly on from part 1 because of the silly word count :(

warnings: warnings: 18+!! minors GO AWAY! smut, angst, fluff, kinda enemies to lovers? kinda? r is charles sister oop, miscommunication, both of them are down bad for eachother but they are also extremely dumb! breeding kink, size kink, pain kink (if u squint), unprotected p in v (don’t be silly!)

part 2: 6.1k words

8. i have you.

“you never told me why.” lando blurts.

the sun is setting outside, the pair of you sprawled out over your hotel bed. he’d been in your room for a few hours, tangled with you between the linen sheets. it’s thursday in brazil, and he’d made a beeline for your hotel room after media day wrapped up. he couldn’t explain the anxiety he felt, pooling thickly in the pit of his belly, but it subsided as soon as he saw your pretty face, peeking through the crack in your door.

he’d stayed after, a habit that had been developing of late, when you were both at home in monaco, but it was unusual on a race weekend. you’d pulled out your laptop to do some work, and chucked the remote at him, telling him to put something on netflix. he’d just smiled and obliged, more than willing to stay with you.

“told you ‘why’ what?” you look up from your laptop, confused.

“why you haven’t really been with anyone else.” his voice is small, scared he’s overstepping but he figures he’s seen you naked one too many times to get shy.

“oh.”

you stare off into the dim light of the room for a second, collecting your thoughts, reliving it all.

“you don’t need to tell me, sorry if that was weird-“

“no, uh, it’s fine. it’s a bit tragic really, embarrassing.” you start. “there was a guy, a couple of years ago. he was on my course at uni. he was perfect, flowers on my doorstep once a week, romantic dinners overlooking the harbour.” you reminisce, smiling sadly. “we went on a few dates and he was selling it all perfectly, it was like he was telling me everything i wanted to hear. i trusted him, so i slept with him. it was my first time.” your breath hitches. “next thing i know, he’s telling everyone that will listen that he’s best friends with charles leclerc and that he’s fucked an f1 drivers sister. and, you know, monaco is small. charles and arthur beat the shit out of him.” you laugh, but it doesn’t reach your eyes, which are now glossed over with fresh, stinging tears.

lando slides closer to you, tentatively wrapping an arm over your shoulder.

“it’s always been hard, you know? people trying to get close to me so that they could get close to charles. all my life, it’s been the same shit. i just wanted someone to want me for me, just once.”

you’re crying now, and lando wants to die for causing it.

“hey, ‘m so sorry, honey. i shouldn’t have asked.” he shushes you, pulling you close. he kisses the top of your head gently, and you snuggle further into him.

“no, it’s okay. wanted you to know. that’s why i like this. us.” it comes out just above a whisper.

“that’s why i like us too.” he murmurs. you look up at him, scanning his face.

“what’s your story? charles said something to me once about a bad breakup.” you ask softly. lando sighs.

“she wanted the lifestyle more than she wanted me.” he shrugs.

“i’m sorry.”

“don’t be. i’m better off.” i have you, he wants to add.

“i like the fact that we can’t hurt eachother that way.” you breathe, voicing the sentiment that you’ve both shared since the very first time you were together.

“i like it too, honey. more than you know.”

-

9. ache.

a weight lifts off of him in vegas.

brazil had been a shit show, one that he wanted to forget. one that left him awake for two days avoiding your calls, until you snapped him out of it by showing up at his place anyway, and giving him the best head of his fucking life. he’d slept like a damn baby after that.

he had a week off, after, which he spent in your bed more than his own, and then he was promptly off to nevada, awaiting your arrival a few days later and fixated on clawing something back after brazil, even if it was just pride.

well, that fixation didn’t amount to much, but at least you were there, somewhere, watching and waiting. charles is a wreck, though, storming away from parc ferme, which means you’ll be with him, instead of with lando. he feels selfish at the way it stings.

he’s exhausted when he leaves the track, dead on his feet in the elevator up to his room. he can’t bring himself to join max or george and celebrate. he’ll make it up to both of them another time. his phone buzzes in his pocket and he pulls it out, recognising your contact. he doesn’t even fight the smile that pulls at the corners of his mouth.

packed something special for you. you gonna come find out what?

he’s in love with you. has been for a while.

the attention you pay to him for himl, the way you tease him and laugh with him and let him lose himself in unravelling you. your quick wit, mesmerising eyes, the way you switch languages when he scrambles your brain and you can’t think hard enough to keep speaking english. he’s a goner, and he knows it.

he doesn’t bother replying, just makes a beeline for your room. he’s spent enough time in it already this weekend to make it there without much thought. you’d even left him a keycard, which he retrieves with nimble fingers from his wallet, letting himself into your suite.

he calls your name, rounding the corner and he could die right there, just at the sight of you.

you’re lamplit, knelt on the middle of your bed, wrapped in nothing but intricate, baby pink lace.

“my god.” he pants, jaw dropped. you’re ethereal, gorgeous, a delicate gift wrapped up just for him to open.

“do you like it?” your eyes are wide, daunted.

“what the fuck did i do to deserve you?” he stalks to the end of the bed, shrugging off his jacket, his hoodie, until he’s left in a white vest and team joggers. he kneels down at the foot of the bed, ready to crawl over you. “i love it.”

you flush, grinning sweetly as he crawls over you, pushing you back into the mattress.

“you did this all for me?” lando asks, stroking over a lacy bra strap.

“thought you deserved it.” you purr, but your facade slips for just a minute. “is this okay? never done this before.” you glance up at him with round, doe eyes that make him swallow hard, melting further into you.

“‘s perfect.” he promises. “you’re so perfect.”

lando kisses you softly, his warm skin pressing into yours. you moan quietly into his mouth, holding him close. he thumbs over the lace adorning your bust, stroking it. you squirm every time he brushes your skin.

“wanna be on top. wanna try it.” you pant into his mouth, watching closely as he groans, eyes fluttering as he imagines the sight.

“only if you keep this on.” he bargains, flipping the pair of you over.

you sit up on his lap, smoothing your hands over his chest as his find your hips. he steadies you, playing with the band of your panties, tracing over the pattern.

“can’t believe you did this all for me.” lando coos, taking the opportunity to take it all in, you, flustered and breathtaking, straddling him. dressed up all for him, all his.

“you deserve it.”

“do you think you’re ready for me? lemme see.” his hand skates between your thighs, pressing the pads of his fingers against the crotch of your underwear. he applies pressure against the wet patch that he feels, licking his lips. “were you thinking about me when you were getting all dressed up? thinking about how i’d touch you?”

“yeah,” you nod frantically, grinding down on his fingers. “wanted you all day but i wanted to be good for you.” you pout. you’re gonna kill him, he thinks.

“always good for me.” he applies more pressure, toying with your clit through the lace, the sensation making you quiver, bucking your hips.

“just want you inside of me, lando. i’m ready.” you plead, palming over his sweats. your hand travels further, finding his between your legs. you tug your underwear to the side, and he feels just how wet you are for him.

“you sure, baby?”

there he goes again. baby. your tummy twists.

“yeah, lan, i want it to hurt a little.” you sound so sweet for him and it shreds the rest of his self restraint.

lando sits up just enough to rip off his vest, taps your thigh so that you lift up for a second, long enough for him to shrug off his sweats. when he’s bare, he paws at your hips, helping you to adjust. your fingers wrap around his length and he jolts, mouth falling open as you swipe the head of him through your slit. you sink down, taking just the tip, but it feels like the first time all over again, the angle creating delicious pressure that burns through your pelvis. your eyes squeeze shut and he swirls his fingers over your sides.

“take it easy for me, love.” lando urges, looking up at you with concern.

“i like it. promise.” you choke out, eyes rolling back at the pleasure, the burn.

you continue to slide down on him, sinking further and further until you’re flush against his pelvis. you roll your hips experimentally, your clit brushing against the thatch of hair at his base and you squirm, sensitive.

“want me to help?” he asks through gritted teeth.

“wanna do this for you.” you pant, rocking your hips against his.

the angle is brutal, so intoxicatingly good, and you can already feel yourself leaking all over him. you build up a rhythm, slow and steady, watching the ripple of his abs everytime you sink back down on him, the way his curls fan over his forehead, the veins in his arms bulging as he grips at your waist tighter and tighter.

“you look so pretty, baby, taking me like this.” lando sighs, helping you pick up the pace. you cry out, leaning backwards, fingers gripping his firm thighs.

“it’s so good, you feel so good.” you whine, arching your back.

he’s entranced by the way your breasts bounce, fighting against the skimpy bra and he sinks his teeth into his plush bottom lip, eyeing you hungrily. one hand leaves your waist and travels to the cups of your bra, tugging so harshly that you hear the threads break. he frees your tits, watching in delight as they fall out of the lace confines.

“you’re so sexy, honey, look so beautiful. you’re all mine, aren’t you? this is all for me, right?” lando’s eyes roll back in his head when he feels the way you clamp down around him at his words. he’s gonna fill you up, he thinks, mark you as his from the inside out.

“yeah, lan, all yours.” you slur, fighting the urge to cum. “‘m all yours.”

he can see that you’re tiring, the ache setting in, so he pulls you forward, until you’re chest to chest, wrapped up his his thick arms.

“i’ve got you, baby.” he swears, holding you close as he rolls his hips, fucking up into you.

it’s all too much like this, the constant pressure on your clit, the head of his cock tapping against your cervix, the thrumming of his heart, the cold sweat of his chest peaking your nipples. you let out a strangled cry of his name, and you see white, your nerve endings overstimulated and fried. all you can hear is his voice, pulling your through it and out the other side.

“did so good for me, baby, such a good girl. took it all so well, love.”

you’re limp on top of him, a dead weight curled around him like a life force. there’s nothing that could make him move you, and wouldn’t let you go unless you asked. you lay there in silence, your mixed release leaking out of you. your heart rate steadies, about as much as it can with him around, and you feel yourself blinking away sleep, exhausted. lando notices, of course he does.

“let’s clean up.” he suggests, sitting up carefully with you on his lap.

“carry me?” you request sleepily, a lazy smile painting your face.

“as you wish.” he jokes, bowing his head.

your legs wrap around his waist as he shuffles off of the bed, and he walks to the bathroom, setting you down on the marble sink top. he leans into the shower, adjusting the temperature and turning the water on. he lets it heat up and turns back to you. no words are exchanged as he peels your ruined panties off, as he unhooks your bra and drops its all onto the counter. he tugs you off of the side, guiding your under the stream of water, the warmth making you relax into him. he’s more than happy to prop you up.

“my legs ache.” you giggle, resting your cheek against his shoulder.

“was it worth it?”

“definitely.”

“good.”

he cleans you, massaging soap into your skin, and washing it off. you stay close while he does the same for himself, passing him different products as you clean up together. it’s quiet, nothing needs to be said, and you wonder if this is what life with him would be like. domestic and easy.

“stay.” you let yourself ask, croaking the request out into the silence. you’re both drying off, and he’s gathering he’s clothes.

“i thought you’d want me to go.” he looks like a deer in headlights. cute.*

“stay.” your repeat, and this time it sounds like a plea. he slides his boxers on.

“okay.”

he’s like a furnace under the covers and you can’t help but curl into his side, legs wrapping around eachothers. there’s no going back from this, you fear. he’s thinking the same thing. you kiss his chest as you fall asleep, just a quick press of your lips to his pec, but it makes him hot all over. if the lights were still on, you’d see him blushing. he returns the favour with careful peck to your hairline. you both nuzzle impossibly closer.

“has it ever been like that for you?” you whisper into the darkness. you hear the change in his breathing.

the question is loaded; have you ever felt like this before? was that just sex to you? what are we? what is this? do you want me how i want you?

“never.” it’s barely a whisper

you fall asleep with a smile on your face.

-

when you wake up, he stirs, bronzed arms tightening around you.

“go back to sleep.” he grumbles, pulling your back to his chest.

“i need to catch my flight.” you reply, turning around to face him.

you’re stunned when you see him smushed into the pillow, lips pouty, eye lashes fluttering to clear away sleep. he looks so pretty in the morning light, and you wish you’d asked him to stay the night sooner.

“just fly with me.” lando mutters. you freeze.

“lan, you know i can’t do that. what would that look like?”

“who cares?” he half shrugs behind you, and you wriggle away, sit up in bed.

“uh, me? i care, lando. i can’t be seen flying around with some other driver, do you know how much that would complicate things?”

“some other driver.” he huffs. that gets his attention, and he sits up. “what so we can sneak around, and you’ll let me fuck you, but being on an airplane together is crossing the line?” he grunts sarcastically. you narrow your eyes at him.

“don’t say it like that.” you scold.

“how should i say it, then? i thought maybe this meant something more to you.” he’s standing from the bed now, hurt thick in his voice, and you panic, reaching out for him, but he’s finding his clothes.

“it does! it does mean something to me but… lando, i can’t put charles in that position. i can’t put myself in that position.” you reason weakly, standing and rapidly moving towards him. you pull him to face you, holding onto his shoulders. “don’t go, please.” you whisper, cupping his cheek.

he stares down at you, dejected, a wounded animal, and pushes your hands off of him.

“i, uh. i care about you. a lot. too much, i think. i can’t go through this again, and you can’t hurt your brother. so…” he breathes shakily.

“so?” you plead, shaking your head. “don’t do this, we can…”

“i’m not gonna be ‘some other driver’, honey. ‘m sorry.”

“lando-“

“its okay. this was good while it lasted, and i know you’re gonna find what you’re looking for, without all of the, uh,” he gestures around blindly. “the complications.”

“don’t go.” you whisper, catching his hand. tears pool in the corners of your eyes, distorting him.

“go catch your flight.” he smiles sadly, finally dressed, and then he’s gone.

you stand frozen, taking stock of whatever the fuck just happened.

i care about you.

good while it lasted.

you’re gonna find what you’re looking for.

complications.

you choke out a sob, stumble backwards onto the foot of your bed when it hits you.

you’d already found what you were looking for, and now, he was gone.

-

you’re supposed to go straight to qatar with charles, but you beg him to get you a flight home instead.

he can hear that you’ve been crying, and tells you that he’ll kill anyone that you need him to. you promise it’s fine, through even more tears, tell him that you’ll fill him in when he’s got a minute to breathe.

the ticket lands in your inbox and you flee. you spend the twelve hour flight watching love actually, crying into a glass of wine, and wondering if you should get gracie abrams’ lyrics tattooed on your forehead.

i love you, i’m sorry would be quite fitting right about now.

when you land, you don’t even go home, making a beeline for alex and charles’ apartment instead. when alex lets you in, confused to see your face, leo does laps around your feet. you drop your bags and fall into her arms, sob until your throat is raw and your eyes are bloodshot.

“i fucked up.” you wail, breathing hard.

“lando?” she asks, tentative. she has a knowing look, and your eyes nearly fall out of your head.

“what? how did you-“

“well let’s just say that we saw the DM he sent you, and arthur was actually sat opposite me when you said you were with him.” she admits. you gasp.

“does charles… does he…?”

“oh, sweetie, charles knows nothing. although he did ask me what shoe size you wear after coming to your place a few weeks back. he said something about a pair of birkenstocks that looked huge compared to your other shoes, and i told him that was just the style.” she snorts, and you slap your hand over your forehead.

“oh, jesus.” you whine, hiding your face in your hands.

“wanna tell me what happened?”

“i don’t even know, he asked me to fly with him and then i said it would complicate things, that i couldn’t been seen with, quote on quote, ‘some other driver.’” you sigh.

“some other driver? oh, girl.”

“yep.”

“were you guys dating…? or?”

“no! lately things had been a bit more,” you pause, gathering your thoughts. “intimate? i don’t know. i definitely have feelings for him.”

alex looks at you sympathetically, strokes your knee soothingly.

“have you told him that?”

“no, i didn’t know how and now he’s done with me.” you wince, a fresh wave of tears pricking your eyes.

“maybe not, sweetie, maybe you if you told him how you felt, he’d understand. is charles what you’re worried about?”

“charles, the fans, all of it.” you whimper.

“the fans can be, well, intense, but take it from me, if lando’s worth it, none of that matters. is he worth it?”

you pause, weighing it all up. the way he’d been with you, so gentle and caring, considerate and interested in you. he’d made you feel safe and satisfied, and everytime you caught him looking at you, you felt that first initial spark all over again. you could laugh with him, push and tease and not just be charles leclerc’s little sister. you look forward to seeing him, feeling him, speaking to him. all of this together feels heavy, but you want to bear it.

“he is.” you whisper, looking at alex nervously. “oh, god, what do i do?”

“i think there’s a paddock pass with your name on it that you should make use of.” she tells you, wrapping you in a tight hug. “and if charles has a problem, tell him he has to go through me.”

-

10. pizza and pasta.

max fewtrell sips his coffee in the hotel lobby, waiting for keegan to join him. it’s hot in qatar, dry and bright, ornate.

his phone buzzes.

message request from: yourusername

HI SORRY ARE YOU IN QATAR????

he probably looks like a cartoon character, eyes bulging out of his skull.

another message comes through.

this sounds insane and i’m sorry that this is like, the first time we’ve ever spoken, but i need a huge favour. like a really really huge favour.

max scratches the back of his head, pulling a face at his phone. baffled wouldn’t even begin to cover how he feels.

he picks up his phone, and opens the messages.

-

lando over exerts himself keeping away from you. the sprint race had been a breeze compared to staying away, out of your reach. it hurts like hell, but it’s a necessary evil for both your sakes.

he wants to sleep, do nothing else but collapse onto his mattress, phone silenced and curtains drawn as tightly shut as they can go. he unlocks the door to his hotel room. the light flashes green, and he relaxes, finally. until, he doesn’t.

there’s a faint sound coming from down the short corridor that separates his front door from his sleeping area. it’s not max, he’s just left him outside his own hotel room, and it’s not keegan, either, for the same reason. he wonders if he has another stalker, braces himself and picks up the first thing he can find. a shoe. useless, he thinks.

lando creeps down the corridor, poised and ready, jumps out of his skin when you round the corner before he can get there. you yelp, bracing yourself against the wall.

“what the fuck, i thought you were a murderer!” lando huffs, throwing his head back.

somehow, the sight of you is worse than any murderer could ever be.

“putain! god, i’m so sorry! so sorry!” you squeak.

“how did you get in here?”

“funny story,” you tilt your head to the side, trying to look harmless. “max let me in.”

“verstappen?” lando asks, face twisting with confusion.

“no, idiot. fewtrell.” you reply, duh-like. “i can go, i know this is crazy and weird and a total violation, but i had to talk to you.” your voice softens and lando seems to finally relax. he’ll kill max later.

“this is batshit, actually, but i respect the grind.” lando shrugs. “what do you want?” he sounds harsher than intended, closed off, but you suppose you deserve it.

“i’m sorry about what happened last weekend.” you inhale shakily. “i… i care about you a lot, too, and i have done for a while but i was too scared to say it. i realised as soon as you left that i never ever wanna hurt you like that. never want you to feel like i don’t lo- care about you… like that.” you catch yourself, not ready to say certain words. he gets the gist.

“i don’t wanna be some hookup anymore. it was fine at first, when i thought that’s all i could have from you, but i know that it’s not. i want you.” lando states, his words poignant. “whatever pace you need, whatever you want from me, i wanna give it to you.”

the space between you dissipates.

“i saw you, you know, watching me from your garage all those months ago, like you were trying place me.” your voice is barely above a whisper. “admittedly, i kinda wanted to punch you for ruining that dress, but i also, really really secretly thought you were cute.”

“well, if we’re being honest, i really wanted to fuck you the first time i saw you.” he jokes crudely, and you slap his chest. “in my defence, i was blackout drunk.”

“asshole.” you mutter. you’re so close now that his nose bumps yours.

“i think you like it.” he whispers.

“yeah, i really do.”

your lips meet his urgently, homecoming. it’s been too long since you’ve had him in your hands, touched him and felt him breathe against you. the kiss is passionate, frantic, and you know you’re in love with him. you’re certain.

-

an hour later, you’re tucked into bed with him, a movie that you’re not paying attention to playing idly on the tv. pizza crusts lay on a plate, the leftovers of your impromptu dinner date.

you’ve covered your degree, how he got into racing, what you do for work, who you’re friends are, family dynamics.

you learn that his favourite colour actually is yellow, and he learns that you’re favourite drink is red wine. he prefers pizza, you prefer pasta. you like flat whites, and he doesn’t like coffee at all.

“after abu dhabi, i’ll take you on a real date. i promise.” he sounds excited as he says it, and you melt into his side.

“oh yeah?” you ask, looking up at him, your cheeks smushed against his shoulder. he tucks your hair behind your ear, thumb stroking your cheek tenderly. he just hums in response, gazing down at you.

“gonna talk to your brothers as well.” he murmurs, dipping down to peck your lips.

“not just yet.” you whisper. he furrows his eyebrows.

“why?” he doesn’t sound upset, maybe a little deflated.

“i wanna enjoy this a bit longer, at least go on a real date before, you know, they kill you.” you keep your tone serious, holding it together well. he bursts out laughing, squeezing you closer.

“and here i was worried that you were ashamed of me.” he’s grinning toothily, boyish and pure, and you kiss him again, deeper.

“never.” you coo.

-

11. daylight.

abu dhabi is a distant memory by the time you get back to monaco. you were happy for your brother and your boyfriend.

yeah, that’s what you get to call him now.

your first date had been effortless and yet so intricately perfect, lando planning it down to the last detail. flowers delivered to you the morning of, picking you up at the door, telling you just how beautiful you looked. your table had been waiting for you, candlelit, dressed immaculately. a bottle of red wine served as the centrepiece, your favourite kind. swoon.

he orders pizza, you order pasta. halfway through, you switch plates.

you wake up the next morning in his arms, content and satiated, still bare from the night before. your phone is buzzing, stirring your both out of your deep sleep. you ignore it.

“c’mere.” he begs, breath fanning out across your neck and you wriggle backwards, further into his arms. your naked skin moulds with his, and you can feel him, ready and waiting against the curve of your ass. he’s still half asleep, and so are you, but you spread your legs just enough for him to swipe himself through your folds and slip right in.

you groan at the stretch, he shushes you soothingly, clinging to your frame. everything is so warm and heightened.

“so ready for me.” he whispers, kissing over your shoulder, hips making the most minimal, languid thrusts that make you dizzy.

“want you like this every morning.” you purr, hiking your top leg up even further. he’s basically on top of you now, his body half covering yours.

lando drags your hips back to meet his, breathing heavily against the back of your neck.

“anytime you want me ‘m here. ‘m yours.” lando mutters, eyes rolling back in his head when you clench around him. lewd sounds are exchanged between your lazy bodies, so worked up, two powder kegs desperate to explode.

it happens in waves, powerful orgasms washing over your bodies like the sunlight through the curtains. it’s bright and warm and leaves you buzzing underneath him, electrified.

“good morning.” you smirk, rolling over to face him.

he’s already sunk back down into the mattress, a satisfied grin on his face, eyelashes dusting the tops of his cheeks where his eyes have fallen shut. he looks angelic, and if it wasn’t for his devious ways, you’d hail him a saint.

“very good morning, baby.” lando pants, scrubbing his hands over his face.

“you look so pretty.” you breathe, raking your nails through his hair. he groans, shivers of pleasure radiating through his scalp and down his back.

“not as pretty as you.” he surges forward, pinning you to the bed, the pair of you a hazy mess of limbs and laughter, so wrapped up in eachother. he’s peppering you with kisses, all over you face and your chest, further and further down your body.

round two is about to commence, and you’re more than excited, ready to welcome him back between your thighs, when you both here a loud, repetitive thud coming from faraway. lando pulls back, trying to pinpoint the sound.

“is that the door?” he says to himself. “sorry, baby. need to get that.” he frowns apologetically. you sigh, waving your hand in understanding, watching as he grabs a robe.

-

charles nearly chokes on air and fury when he gets the all caps message from arthur, followed by one from lorenzo, then his publicist.

arthur: HAVE YOU SEEN TWITTER? i don’t know if i should laugh or cry

enzo: be nice to her, don’t be a little bitch

publicist: Charles, we will need to address this news immediately and conclude whether the photos are out of context or not. Meeting scheduled on the shared calendar.

first question: what fucking photos? did someone catch him picking his nose in public?

second question: who does he need to be nice too?

third question: can he not go five fucking minutes without some impending media crisis?

he opens twitter and doesn’t need to look hard, because there on his screen is a picture taken the night before of his precious baby sister, and there is lando fucking norris with his tongue down her throat.

alex asks him where he’s going, watching him storm out keys in hand. he doesn’t respond with anything but a growl and a mutter of your name. alex’s eyes go wide, reached for her phone.

to: your number

girl he knows! idk how but he KNOWS!

for once in your life PICK UP THE PHONE

JESUS OKAY i just saw twitter…

OKAY im tracking charles location rn and looks like he’s near lando’s?

MISS LECLERC PLEASE! HELLO?????

it was nice knowing you babe.

-

you pick up your phone as lando leaves the room, scrolling absentmindedly through your notifications. your interest peaks, however, when you see about a million texts from alex, and even more missed call. in fact, you have literally thousands of notifications, and your blood runs cold.

you’d been so careful last night, surely it hadn’t leaked. your blood runs cold when you open your text chain with alex. the aggressive knocking on the door suddenly makes harrowing sense and you spring from the mattress just in time to hear the front door click.

“is she here?” you hear charles bellow, voice laced thickly with anger.

“uh… who?” lando tries, he really does, but he’s not a good liar. you wince, grabbing anything to cover your dignity: lando’s sweats and a t-shirt. you scramble out of the bedroom, sliding down the corridor from the sheer speed you’re moving at.

“fucking hell.” charles sighs, wincing at the sight of you. “of all the people on the planet, you pick my rival? you pick him?” charles barks at you. you close your eyes, focusing on your breathing as your chest constricts. “i told you. i specifically told you not to mess around with him, and c’mon, i don’t ask you for much.” charles throws his hands out in frustration.

“charles, listen to me,” you keep your voice calm and steady. “we’re not messing around, we… we’re together.” you confirm, watching his jaw tick.

“together? with him? do you know how many girls probably think they’re in a relationship with him? half of the portuguese modelling industry is linked to him.” charles laughs incredulously, disgusted. your eyes narrow, watching lando crumble into a million pieces in your peripheral.

“don’t you dare ruin this for me! and how can you come into his house and speak to him that way? my god, charles, you don’t get it, do you? i can never be happy with anyone because of you! everyone, everyone, uses me to get to you and, god, i finally found someone who cares about me and couldn’t give less of a shit about who you are and you don’t approve? shall i stay single and lonely and in your shadow forever? should i go for some greasy hedge fund legacy who wants to fuck any leclerc he can get his hands on? huh? i’m sorry if you don’t approve, truly, i am, but you will not have a say in this.”

charles stays silent, as does lando, the only sound in the hallway being your heavy breathing, a symptom of your monologue. you feel the ghost of lando’s touch on your waist, soothing you from your outburst, and you lean into his touch, looking up at him. his eyes are reassuring, the only source of comfort.

charles watches intently, the silent communication between you both, and it knocks him for six. ultimately, he wants you to be happy, but it begs the question: can lando make you happy? the way you truly deserve? he sighs, pinches the bridge of his nose, lets out a muttered string of expletives.

“will you look after her?” he stares daggers at lando, watches the way the brit straightens up.

“i will.” lando nods firmly, eyes sincere.

“and you won’t hurt her? you won’t fuck her around?” charles looks like he’s desperately pleading, but his voice is commanding, no margin for error.

“i promise.”

“and you’ll make her happy?”

“i’d do anything for her.”

your head snaps towards lando, the tears you’d been holding back finally breaking the dam. charles watches closely, steps backwards towards the door. there isn’t space for him here right now.

“okay. i- okay.” you watch the way charles backs down, and he finally meets your eyes again. “ma chére, je suis désolé.” he tells you solemnly. you nod, lips in a thin, hard line. you can feel lando nudge you forward.

“come here, loser.” you groan, opening your arms for your brother. charles meets you half way, squeezes you tight. he gently kisses your forehead and turns to leave, not before shooting lando a look that says ‘i’m watching you.’

you turn back to your newfound boyfriend, tears still falling, but you pay them no mind.

“well done, baby.” he affirms, thumbing away your tears.

“i love you, lando.” you whisper, threading your fingers into the curls at the nape of his neck. “thank you.” his eyes glaze over, total adoration swirling in the pools of green.

“so glad you said that because i absolutely love you too.” he laughs, hauling you in for a kiss. it’s a mess of tears and laughter and a weird sense of serenity.

“you might wanna call your publicist. pictures of last night leaked.” you mumble against his lips.

“at least we don’t have to sneak around anymore.” he shrugs. “i’ll call later. got things to do.” he picks you up effortlessly, throwing you over his shoulder. you squeal, and he teasingly slaps your ass.

you catch sight of the apartment as he walks you through it, and you think about the first time you saw it, under the cover of darkness, covert and clandestine.

you much prefer it in the light of day.

you prefer lando in the light of day, too.

yourusername and landonorris just posted on instagram:

liked by: francisca.cgomes, alexandrasaintmleux, oscarpiastri and others.

yourusername: oops!

comments on this post have been disabled.

-

thank god that’s over lmfao - thank you for reading!!

taglist

@boysthatgovroomvroom @welld0nebaku @thegirlinthefandoms @mcmuppet @japanesekel @vinvantae @ggaslyp1 @dr3lover @smiithys  @rachstash @infinitebells @fizzpopsnap101 @gaily19 @icecoldtires @mysticalnightenthusiast @thatchickwiththecamera @oyesmendes @disneydaydreameralways @canyouseethesainz @ferrarifwendvale @fcbformulaeri @tony-stank3 @maih23 @soleilgrec @carolineworld @anthonykatebridgerton @allywthsr @iamasimpingh0e @ophcelia @lovelynikol16 @coffeehurricanes @jennx03 @blueflorals @lqvesoph @sidcrosbyspuck @better-dead-than-smeg @buendiabebeta @pjofics @kovalcin @wintergilmore3 @for-writing-shit @youdontknowmeshh @im-an-overthinker @jule239 @darleneslane @jazzy722

[delicioushottubpeanut]

♡ babysitter

oneshot - inspired by that one edit

fandom: five nights at freddys (movie)

paring: mike schmidt x fem!reader

warnings: nsfw 18+, dry humping, sexual tension, kissing, friends to lovers, cumming in pants, submissive mike, foul language, teasing, smut, riding, dom reader, consensual sex, age gap, minors dni..

You've heard a lot about him from Abby, mainly bits and pieces that she's told you, but nothing really about him and the only thing he really says to you is that he's eventually going to pay you back. But you always refuse.

The old couch squeaks softly as he sits beside you, a gentle hand goes to reach your face but hesitates.

He’s been very busy for a while now that he has started his new job at a security guard that was shut down ages ago. When he comes home he's always so tired, like he's a different person. As if he cannot relax. You hear the door open and slam back as it he closes it.

"Oh, sorry, I didn't hear you come back.." You whisper, groaning whilst you move out of the position you had been in for a while. Yawning as you gently wipe your eyes.

Mike looks at you, half-smiling as he leans against the cushions. He's tired, you can tell. "Sorry if I woke you, you looked exhausted, so I just wanted to cover you," he whispers back, stretching his arms. "Did Abby go okay for you?" he asks.

"I told her it's bedtime an hour ago, but you know how it is with little ones." You joke.

"Abby was great, she missed you, though.." You smile sheepishly, shifting on the coach to face him. "How was work?" You ask, seeing the slight bags under his eyes.

Mike chuckles softly, leaning his head back and letting out a deep sigh as he stares up at the ceiling.

"It was long," he sighs. "I mean, I've gotten used to it, of course, but god, it's draining..." He leans forward and rests his elbows on his knees, looking off to the side and fiddling with his fingers, trying to find the right words to explain what just happened at work. He seems hesitant to say.

"You okay? You can talk to me if something is bothering you." Hesitantly placing your hand on his shoulder, slowly forcing him to look at you. You've known him for years due to babysitting Abby, but he's never opened up.

"Well... it's just..." Mike sighs again, still not meeting your eyes. "...Abby asked me some questions about stuff today."

He rubs the back of his neck, shifting in his seat as if he's about to say something and then thinks better of it. He leans back against the coach, letting out a frustrated grunt as his eyebrows pinch in frustration. "I... I just can't tell her."

"Is there anything I can do to help?" You whisper, staring at him, waiting for a response.

Mike's face softens a little, looking over at you before he sighs, shaking his head. "It's nothing. Abby asked about the job, and... well, it got me thinking..." He shrugs his shoulders again, still looking off to the side.

"Look, I'll tell Abby about it myself, I don't... I shouldn't put it on you..." He sighs one again, staring at the floor.

"If you need me, don't hesitate." You place your hand on his thigh, squeezing it for reassurance. Gaining confidence, you slowly move your body off the couch and sit on his lap.

"Oh..." Mike says quietly, his face turning bright red as you place your hand on his thigh. He looks down at you, his expression of uncertainty on his face changing as his eyebrows rise.

He's speechless, frozen in shock at your touch, and his entire face is practically bright pink. He's suddenly a lot warmer, his chest heaving as his heartbeat picks up speed. "... Y- you're..." he says with the last of his breath, his brain having trouble finding the right words to say.

"Is this okay..?" You grind against his lap, whispering against his ear.

"Shit..." He stammers, his brain desperately trying to process what you're doing. He looks confused, his eyes drifting down to you as his mind races.

"What... what are you... n- no, it's... we can't..." Mike stutters, trying to find a way to reject you. But the longer you're in his lap, the harder it is for him to say no.

"Just relax, Abby is fast asleep in her room.." You grind harder against him, using your index finger to tilt his chin up, making eye contact when you suddenly hear him whimper.

"T- this isn't the time..." he mumbles in response, his eyes closing at the sensation and his whimpers becoming more noticeable.

"W- we shouldn't be doing this..." he whispers, his arms hesitating in the air for a moment before they eventually wrap around your waist. He's still torn between going along with it or saying no, his heart racing as he gazes at you.

"Beg for me to continue." You stop moving your hips, feeling his arousal throb against your ass. Wanting to see how he would react.

"P- please... God.." he whispers, the breath catching in his throat and his voice turning raspy.

He looks at you, his eyes pleading, his body quivering under your control. His heart is pounding out of his chest. He swallows, looking up at you as his entire body screams for you to keep going while his mind fights back.

"You can do better than that.." You tease, breathing against his neck, gently creating bruises as you feel his slightly breath hitch.

Mike whimpers loudly when he feels your bites, his muscles tensing as he tries to relax.

"H- I- please, don't stop..." he murmurs hoarsely, sounding completely different than you've ever heard before. He whimpers again, his head tilted back as he tries to hide the pleasure in his face. He can't believe what he's doing, but he can't turn away.

"Good boy.." Slowly reaching to take off your top, revealing your covered breasts as you start to grind against him, pushing your panties to the side, creating a wet spot on his jeans.

Mike looks down at you, taking in the view as your top is removed, his face getting even pinker as his heart races.

He swallows nervously in response to your wetness, his eyes trailing down your body before they eventually turn back to your face. His cheeks are bright red, his breathing heavy as he glances back down at you, looking into your eyes as you look into his. He takes a long, drawn-out breath, his entire body quivering with anticipation.

"Just take what you want, Mike, no one is stopping you.." You tease, eagerly watching his reaction.

"I- it's..." Mike starts to say, but he can't say no to you, not right now. He leans back, pushing himself deeper into you like he can't help himself, the breath catching in his throat as he takes in the sensation. His eyes are closed as he tries to ignore his own morals.

His eyes snap open, his lips parted as he whispers, "More.."

"You close?" Whispering seductively, moving harder as you feel your climax coming fast.

"Oh, god..." Mike breathes out, his face red, and his eyes roll back into his head. He moans, bucking his hips up against you, feeling himself come close to release as he cums in his pants, feeling you come down from your high.

[rowarn]

PLEASE, LOVE ME. PT2

simon riley / reader

FIND PART ONE || read the full thing on ao3

tags: childhood friends, friends2lovers, virgin!reader, soft!simon, protective!simon, afab!reader, hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending, MDNI

cw: reader is over 20, pining, masturbation (reader), loss of virginity, explicit workplace sexual harassment/assault, so much crying, one-sided love, not-really-unrequited love, vomiting, panic attacks, depression, crying, sex related shame, PTSD (reader), codependency but cute, self-deprecating thoughts, slut shaming, wet dream, dry humping, simon fucks up tho, reference to suicide & suicidal ideation, really nasty argument, reader hits simon sorry, apologizes tho!!!, reader struggles to orgasm, drinking, fooling around while drunk (no sex), breast play, fingering, orgasm denial, simon's a tease, p-in-v, cunnilingus, multiple orgasms, creampie, mating press, missionary, simon's dirty mouth, dirty talk, wet&messy, big cock, uncut simon bc i said so, reassurance & encouragement, some pain upon penetration, clit spanking, post-coital crying!!!!!!, aftercare, briefly edited so apologies for any lingering mistakes

note: this is part two and contains the gratuitous smut portion ur all looking forward to &lt;3

you've loved him since you were children. after a confession when you were 14 went rejected, you vowed to never let your feelings be known again. but after an incident that left you hurt and fragile, you find it hard to keep that promise.

PART 2: 17.9k total: 35.8k

Things seem to get much better between you. Your anger and resentment towards Simon diminishes significantly and you can finally say you feel comfortable around him again. You wouldn’t say you’ve forgotten everything that happened, you fear that the entire ordeal has left its scar on you. 

But you finally feel ready to truly begin to work on yourself and get to a better place mentally. 

You’re humming to yourself as you dust the surfaces in your living room, cringing in disgust when you see how dusty a particular shelf was. 

Just as you go to give it another swipe, your front door opens and Simon stumbles in, huffing from effort as he carries two armfuls of groceries. 

“Simon!” you cry out, watching with wide eyes from the stepstool you stood on as he ungracefully dropped them on the floor, “Why did you bring them all up here like that?”

“Didn’t wanna make another trip,” he explained lamely, flexing his hands as he looked over all the bags.

“Okay, I guess,” you chuckle softly. 

Simon finally looks up at you, “What are you doing?”

“Cleaning,” you shrug, waving the duster at him, “I haven’t felt like doing it until now so might as well get it done when I feel like it!”

He’s quiet for a moment before he steps over the bags of groceries.His boots thunk heavily on the floor as he approaches you. Suddenly, he wraps an arm around your middle. You squeak in surprise when he very carefully and gently pulls you off of the stool and places you back onto your feet. 

Then he walks away like nothing happened, snatching up a couple groceries up from the floor to take to the kitchen. 

You decide not to comment on his behavior and simply choose to grab a couple of bags and help him out. When you get inside the kitchen, he’s already stuffing things into the refrigerator. You place the bags down and go back to pick some more up, transferring all the bags of groceries near him so he can easily put them away. 

You notice one of the bags has some piping, lightbulbs, wires, and other things you can’t identify. 

“What’s all this?” you ask, holding the bag out to him when he turns to look.

He grunts, closing the fridge, “Gonna fix some shit around here.”

“Why?” you ask, scrunching your nose up as you place the bag on the counter.

“Shithole needs it,” he mumbles, moving to start opening the cabinets, “Since you refuse to let me move you out of this place, I’m gonna make sure it at least functions.”

You hum and nod your head. Simon had attempted to convince you to move out and into an apartment of his own choosing but you flat out refused. He was already paying the rent on this place, you weren’t going to let him spend more money for a different place – because you know Simon would choose somewhere that would cost a lot more than your current flat. 

But you couldn’t deny, the idea of Simon doing a little manual labor around the apartment made your heart flutter in your chest. The way he took care of you and was willing to get his hands dirty just to make sure you were comfortable. The little domestic tasks you could imagine him doing. 

It almost felt like something a husband would do. 

You felt your cheeks flush immediately at the train of thought. How embarrassing and juvenile to think something like that

“I can cook dinner!” you mumble after clearing your throat. 

Simon actually has the audacity to laugh. You frown as he shakes his head, closing the cabinet before turning to you. 

“Absolutely not,” he says.

Your jaw drops, “Why?!”

“Because,” he steps closer, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead before breezing past you, “You’re a terrible cook, love.”

You open your mouth to retort but can only huff. Because he’s right. The last time you tried to make dinner for the two of you, you had confused cayenne with cinnamon and made the most diabolical stew known to man. He vowed to never let you cook anything that required more than boiling water since. 

You pout your way back to the living room, mumbling a petulant, “Fine…” as you went.

You didn’t catch the broad grin on Simon’s face as he watched you sulk away. He was just happy to see your vibrance returning before his very eyes.

True to his word, however, he began to do some random odd jobs around the apartment. He changed that damn leaky faucet in the kitchen first. He would never admit it but it was beginning to drive him completely mad. He swore he could hear it dripping into the metal sink basin in his dreams.

Then he fixed the piping in the bathroom so they would stop all that god-awful clanking that practically woke up the entire complex. But after that, he figured he might as well fix the piping under the sinks as well.

That’s when you saw him. On his back, big body sprawled out as he worked underneath the cabinet, wrench in hand and soft grunts of effort coming from him. His t-shirt rose up just a bit, exposing a small stretch of tummy and his happy trail. Every once in a while, you could see his muscles flex and it made your mouth go completely dry. 

You felt like a Victorian man seeing his first ankle on a woman. Ridiculous. 

Sure, you’d seen Simon shirtless countless times – hell, you walked in on him completely naked once or twice. But there was something particularly…delicious about him like this. Unaware, casual, just doing work. 

It made a swell of heat settle in your abdomen. You squeezed your thighs together as you watched him. His biceps flexed and bulged, making the sleeve of his t-shirt grow taut around his skin. His muscles moved underneath the tattoos inked into his skin. 

You dragged your eyes down his body, past his pecs, past the sliver of tummy. You imagined yourself crawling between those thick thighs and unbuckling his belt, tugging at the button of his jeans. You imagined getting to see his cock chub up inside his boxers before you would pull it out and wrap your lips around the leaking tip. 

Salty, you imagine. You’ve always heard that men’s cum and pre-cum would be salty. Would Simon’s taste as bad as some of your friends had told you back in highschool? You hoped not. You couldn’t imagine not enjoying every part of him – even his cum.

You wanted him to shoot in your mouth, let you taste it. You wanted to milk it out of him, give him no choice but to cum down your throat.

“Are you just going to stand there or do you need something?” his voice startled you out of your thoughts.

Wide eyed, you looked to meet his gaze but you found he wasn’t even looking at you, still staring at the piped overhead.

“Um,” you cleared your throat, floundering for an excuse as to why you were ogling him like a piece of meat, “I didn’t want to interrupt you. I-I was just wanting to make sure the shower was okay to use?”

He grunts, letting out a soft sigh  before pushing himself out from under the sink, closing the cabinet before wiping his brow with the back of his hand, “Yeah, go ahead and shower, love.”

You give him a tight-lipped smile, casting one last glance to see that his t-shirt had fallen back into place. Disappointing. 

You trudge out of the kitchen and into the bathroom. Softly, you close the door and turn on the shower. The pipes don’t clang when the water shoots through them. It brings a smile to your face.

Once you’re stripped and standing under the warm spray, you let your hands wander your body. First, you cup your breasts, watching your nipples harden under your own touch before you slide one hand between your thighs. There’s a slickness between your folds that's distinctly different from the water, it’s slippery and sticky. But it makes your touch against your clit easy. 

You bite your lips to keep quiet, scared to death that Simon could hear you from under the sound of the water. You make quick, tight little circles against your clit. The bud is hard and twitches under your fingers. It makes the breath stutter out of your chest. 

You need more room, you realize, hiking your foot up onto a shelf. It spreads you open just a little more, gives you a little more access for your fingers to play. You sigh, head tipping forward to watch as you circle your own clit. 

But the more you touch yourself, the faster that tingling, warm sensation dissipates. You huff through your clenched teeth, frustrated. 

Usually, you could at least feel the beginning of that peak forming but this time…not even close. So you shamefully close your legs and go about your shower as if nothing happened, taking care to wash the slick from between your thighs especially.

As you lay in bed that night, Simon breathing deeply beside you as he slept, you were lost in thought. 

Surely, you were in the wrong for thinking about Simon like that – for getting wet at the sight of him. And then sleeping soundly next to him as if you weren’t some kind of pervert. Maybe you should just confess and apologize to him. 

No. You quickly admonish that thought, glancing over at his prone form. You couldn’t bear to see him be disgusted by you. He’d already rejected you years ago, finalized it and put the nail in the coffin so you would never be dumb enough to do it again. 

What would he do if he found out about your…attraction to him? He practically lived with you now, after everything happened. He was in your flat more than he was on base now. It was only a matter of time before he caught you with your hands dancing in your pants. 

Your cheeks flushed at the idea. Part of you thought it hot – for him to find you needy like that, desperately playing with your clit as you try to make yourself cum. 

But on the other hand, you could see the wrinkle of disgust in his brow and sneer on his face as he walked away. That outcome was not worth it, you decided. 

With a sigh, you rolled over so your back faced Simon and closed your eyes for the night. 

You both should have known better that the fragile peacefulness between the two of you was just that – fragile, balancing on a delicate precipice that could shatter at any moment. 

The ring of his phone was the break. 

“Answer that for me, love!” he called from the kitchen where he was busy preparing dinner. 

You leaned forward to check the number. It wasn’t in his contacts but Simon never got calls from people unless he knew them. So you slowly slid the button over and accepted the call. 

“Hello?” you mumbled into the phone.

There was a beat of silence before a woman’s voice responded in kind, “Hello?”

“Um…” you swallowed down the apprehension that settled in your chest, casting a glance towards Simon’s back as he stood over the stove, “Who may I ask is calling?”

“I’m looking for Simon,” she said, sounding much more coy than a second ago. She knew his real name and that irked you. People from work always referred to him as Ghost, only those he considered trustworthy or friends were privy to calling him Simon. 

“Um, he’s busy at the moment, can I take a message?” you ask, loud enough for Simon to hear in the kitchen if he was interested in intervening. But he didn’t move. 

“Sure!” she giggled, “Tell him that Victoria really wants to see him again and to call me so we can!”

You swallowed around the lump in your throat, “Y-Yeah, sure. I’ll let him know…”

“Thank you,” she cooed in a sultry tone, “Oh! And tell him I really had a great time last time we were together and that I’m looking forward to a repeat performance.”

“Yeah. I’ll do that,” you assured, hoping you didn’t sound as tense as you felt. 

She giggled before the call disconnected and you were left glaring at his stupid stock phone wallpaper.

“Who was it?” Simon comes to the archway of the kitchen, leaning against the wall. You can’t hear anything cooking anymore so you assume he’s finished dinner.

“Victoria,” you spit the name out like it’s poisonous, “Says she wants to see you again and she had a fantastic time with you last time.”

Simon shifts where he stands, looking down at his feet before looking back up to you, “Alright. I’ll call her back later.”

That sends knives straight through your heart. It aches so badly that you want to bite your own tongue off to make it stop. 

Jealousy, you realize. You’re fucking jealous. Some girl calls and asks for his dick and he just says okay? 

He’s not yours, you tell yourself. He can fuck whoever he wants. 

But that does nothing to quell the inferno raging inside you. 

There’s other feelings brewing inside you; rejection, fear, loss.

You feel bitter that you’re right there and he would still never choose you. He’ll always choose someone else because he doesn’t see you like that. It feels like he’s throwing it in your face, just spitting at you to show you that he doesn’t love you like you love him. He never has and he never will. You’ll never be an option to him because he doesn’t want you.

Then you’re scared he’s going to leave you. He’s going to go to this Victoria chick and leave you all alone so he can get his dick wet again. Just like last time. Maybe he’ll like it so much he wants to stay with her. Maybe he’s going to leave you behind so he can start a new, happy life without having to worry about the dead weight that’s been dragging him down since he was 8. You. His responsibility. His problem. 

You’re so scared that he’s going to be ripped from your grasp. That you’re going to lose him to someone else and it’s going to be you and your pathetic one-sided love for the rest of your life. Fuck, you’ve loved him since you were 4. You’ve loved him for so long that it makes you nauseous to think about. How many people loved one person for this long? 

Please, you wanted to cry to him, please love me. 

Please, just love me back.

“So you’re gonna go then?’ you finally find your voice, bitterness and resentment thick in your tone, “You’re gonna leave me to go to a booty call again?”

He stands up straight at that. Arms cross over his chest, he watches that way you glare at him, heated and teary-eyed. Hurt. 

He knew you still weren’t over the way he left you that time – when you needed him the most. You’d been ignoring the residual hurt that lingered, intent on pretending that everything was fine. He had been doing his best to make up for it but it always felt like one step forward and two steps back with you. 

“I’m not going anywhere,” he assures softly, “I’ll call her back to tell her that it won’t happen.”

He tries his best to remain level-headed and soft, to be reassuring like he knows you need. But your expression doesn’t change. You continue to glare at him with that furious, hurt look in your eyes. 

Suddenly, you stand. 

“I don’t believe you,” you hiss, turning your back to him, storming down the hallway. 

He almost winces when he hears how hard you slam the bedroom door. He thinks about going back there to talk to you but decides against it. You need some space to calm yourself down. 

He eats the dinner he made for both of you alone, putting your half in the fridge for later. He goes about the apartment, locking the door and turning out all the lights. Then he gets to the bedroom door and goes to turn the knob and it doesn’t budge. 

Despite himself, he laughs. He jiggles the knob, jerks the door a little harder like it’ll open with a bit of force. And it might, it’s a flimsy ass door if he’s being honest – he’s forced bigger and heavier doors open before. 

He snaps your name, humor gone from his voice. You don’t answer. 

“Open the damn door,” he snaps, trying the knob again. He gets silence in return so he slams his fist against the surface. The sound is loud enough that it makes his own ears ring, “I said open the door. I’m not playin’ this game with you, sweetheart.”

“Sleep on the couch, Simon!” he hears your wobbly voice call back. Of course you’re in there crying, he thinks.

“I’m not sleepin’ on the fuckin’ couch,” he hisses, leaning his forearm against the door, resting his head against it with a sigh, “Open the door and let’s talk.”

“Don’t wanna talk to you,” you whine, bratty as all hell. He would have laughed if he wasn’t so damn pissed, “Why don’t you go sleep with Victoria since you like her so much.”

You don’t know why you say that last part. You don’t want him to go to her, you don’t want him to go anywhere. The thought of it brings more tears to your eyes. 

Simon is silent on the other side of the door for a long while. You almost think he walked away and succumbed to the couch. You wouldn’t actually let him sleep on that awful thing, of course. You just…you don’t know what the end goal here is, if you’re honest.

“Fine,” he finally spits, “If that’s what you want, I’ll fuck off and find Victoria.”

You hear the floorboards creak under his weight as he walks away. You sit up straight in bed at that, eyes wide as you listen to him stalk through the house. You swear you hear the jingle of his keys and that’s what has you lurching out of bed in a panic.

You almost trip over the sheets as they tangle around your legs but you manage to free yourself and wrench the door open.

“Simon!” you practically shriek, rounding the corner of the hallway to find him standing with his back to you, facing the door.

He’s got his hoodie and mask on, boots firmly on his feet and keys in hand. He stands still, back straight as his shoulders rise and fall with his breathing. But he waits.

“Don’t go,” you find yourself whimpering, “‘M sorry. Come to bed, okay?”

He doesn’t move and that makes your heart pound in your chest. You know he’s pissed, can see it in the way his fists stay clenched at his sides. His fingers twitch and he makes a move for the doorknob and you surge forward, wrapping yourself around his other arm, yanking him away from the door as hard as you can. 

He lets your weight knock him off balance, lets you drag him away from the door. He lets you tug him down the hallway, sniffling and crying as you do. 

“J-Just…” you find yourself frantically tugging his mask off, tossing it away before you rip the hem of his hoodie up. He doesn’t help you or fight you as you try to take it off of him. He just stares blankly at you, like he’s assessing you. You hate it. “G-Get ready for bed, okay? Just…we can go to sleep.”

“Why do you make this so fuckin’ hard for me?” he finally breaks his silence, the question cold and calculating. Like he’s tired. Exhausted, “I keep tryin’ to make it up to you. But every time something goes wrong, you throw everything back in my face and you act like you hate me again. I can’t keep…” he trails off, shaking his head before he sits at the foot of the bed, hands clasped together and head hanging between his shoulders.

“I love you,” you blurt out, a sob breaking out of your lips as you do. Simon doesn’t move. Your hands cover your eyes, as if being blind to his reaction will make the rejection hurt less, “I love you and i-it just keeps messing me up inside. I’m sorry.”

“You love me?” he asks, still no emotion in his voice. 

When you peek at him, he’s in the same position as before, hands clasped, elbows on his knees, head bowed. You have no idea what expression he’s wearing and you’re scared to find out.

“Yes,” you hiccup, sniffling softly, “I’m sorry.”

“Why are you apologizing?” he asks softly, almost solemnly.

“I promised,” you cry, another choked sob escaping you. 

“Promised..?” he doesn’t sound cold anymore, just confused, “The fuck’re you talkin’ about?”

“W-When I was 14,” you whimper, shame filling you as you recall your now-broken promise, “I-I told you I liked you and you said you didn’t feel the same. You told me to never bring it up again and I promised I wouldn’t. B-But…” you sobbed again, stopping yourself from finishing the sentence.

“Fuckin’ hell…” he breathes, bringing his hands to his face, scrubbing them up and down vigorously in a way that looks like it hurts. Then he laughs. 

He fucking laughs. 

It’s like your worst fears come to light. He’s laughing at you, at your confession. At your feelings. A fresh wave of tears fill your eyes and fall down your cheeks. You bite your lips to keep from making your sobs audible anymore. You didn’t want him to laugh at that too. You hang your head, wringing your hands together behind your back anxiously as Simon quiets down. 

“Shit,” he breathes, getting to his feet. He stands before you, cupping your cheeks and forcing you to look at him. He frowns when he sees the utter despair on your face, the heartbreak in your eyes, “No, baby. No, no. I wasn’t laughin’ at you.”

Baby. You catch onto it. He’s never called you that before. 

You dash the spark of hope that it causes. 

He rubs his thumbs under your eyes, wiping the tears away. 

Then, he leans forward and slots his lips against yours. 

It’s like fireworks explode in your chest. Your heart races so fast that you feel lightheaded. You can’t even respond to the kiss in time before he pulls away, your mind is moving too fast for you to process any meaningful thought. But he kissed you. 

Simon kissed you.

“What?” you finally manage to whisper, looking up with wide, shocked eyes, “Why did you..?”

He looks confused for a second, still cupping your cheeks as he looks into your watery eyes, “You really have no idea?” Your brows furrow immediately and you shake your head, “How I feel about you?”

“You feel..?” you dumbly repeat. 

He smiles softly, thumb rubbing softly over your cheekbone, “You really think I don’t feel the same?”

“B-But when…when we were kids I…” you stumble over your words, the truth you’ve believed this entire time seemingly false, “You s-said you didn’t feel the same.”

“Jesus, love,” he huffs softly in disbelief, “You were fourteen. I was seventeen. You were way too fuckin’ young for me, it wouldn’t have been right.”

“B-But then…” you stutter, reaching up to wipe your cheek, “When did you..?”

He shrugs, “Not sure exactly. Suppose sometime after you turned 20 was when I realized I felt somethin’ for you.”

“So you really…” you whisper, snagging your hands into his hoodie to pull him close, “You really…I mean…”

“Love you?” he smiles softly, “Of course I do.”

You lean forward and press your lips to his. He hums, wrapping one strong arm around your middle to pull you even closer. His lips work magically over yours, taking control of the kiss with ease. You easily melt into it, following his lead. It’s not as easy as you thought it would be and you hope Simon doesn’t notice. 

But he does, of course he does. 

He pulls away and smooths the palm of his hand down your cheek before it comes to rest on your jaw. His thumb slides over your bottom lip and he hums.

“You ever kissed before?” he asks, voice calm and level with no teasing to it at all.

Still, heat explodes all over your face. Embarrassment overrides the euphoria of your requited feelings. You try to pull away but Simon’s much stronger and he won’t let go unless he wants to. 

“Hey, don’t run,” he coos softly, turning your face to look back up at him, “I was just askin’.”

“No,” you mumble, still burning with embarrassment, “I-I’ve only ever liked you so…”

“Fuckin’ hell…” he whispers, letting you step back just a bit so he can look over you, “Is that right?”

“You should know that,” you mumble, feeling small under his scrutiny, “You know everything about me.”

“Didn’t think datin’ history was somethin’ you felt like sharin’,” he shrugged off.

“Well, now you know,” you mutter, your gaze glued to the floor.

“That I do,” he hums in agreement, reaching out to brush a hand down the length of your arm. 

A soft, quietness falls over the two of you. You’re not sure what to do and it seems he’s content where he is. He’s watching you, tracking every little shift and fidget you make until he finally seems to take pity on you.

“Let’s get to bed,” he says softly, giving you a soft nudge towards the bed. 

You take the opportunity to dive into bed, yanking the blanket over you as Simon strips himself out of his boots and hoodie. You go to look away as he yanks his belt free with practiced hands but you can’t seem to. He slips the belt out of the loops and drops it on the dresser before unbuttoning his jeans and slipping them off. 

Your mouth waters at the sight of him in a tight pair of navy boxer-briefs slung low on his hips. You can make out the shape of his–

“Enjoyin’ the view?” he mumbles half-heartedly as he turns to root through the dresser to find some sweatpants. 

“Sorry…” you mutter shamefully at being caught. 

He chuckles under his breath, pulling the sweats on before he rounds to his side of the bed and drops onto the mattress, “Nothin’ to be sorry about.”

He leans over you and turns out the tableside lamp. Then he settles into his pillow with a soft sigh.

“Si..?” you whisper.

“Yeah?” you can hear the smile in his voice.

“Are we um…” you clear your throat, “I mean like…are we…together now..?”

You feel him roll over and toss his arms around you. You squeak when he tugs you towards him roughly, securing you against his chest before he kisses the top of your head.

“Do you want to be together?” he asks, muffled by his lips pressed against you. 

“Yes,” you whisper quickly, wrapping yourself around him almost possessively.

He tilts your head up and carefully slots his mouth over yours again. You sigh happily at the feeling. 

You notice that he keeps it a lot slower than he had before, moving his lips carefully against yours. Like he’s trying to make it easier for you to keep up. It makes your cheeks flush again but you sink into the pillow and let him kiss all he wants as you do your best to match his movements. 

His body shifts, torso hovering over you as he rests his weight on his elbows on either side of your head. Your hands rest against his shoulders and simply get lost in the kiss. 

After a moment, he deepens the kiss, sinking into you with his chest pressed against yours. You whimper and wrap your arms around his neck, carding your fingers through his cropped hair. 

One of his hands moves, coming to grip your waist, fingers sliding up the hem of your shirt. It’s like a dream come true. Literally. 

All those nights you spent with your hand between your thighs, thinking of him. Thinking of him touching you like this – with his hand sliding your shirt up a little further every second. You even feel that familiar wetness soaking your panties.

Then why was your heart racing from anxiety instead of excitement? Why did you feel a fearful tremble setting in your thighs, as if your knees would be knocking together if you were standing. Why were you scared?

Before you can stop yourself, you’re shoving your hands against his chest with a weak, “No!”

Simon is off of you in seconds but you can feel his gaze on you in the darkness. You struggle to catch your breath as you lay there, heart pounding in your ears. Your head hurts, you realize with a wince.

“Um…” you find yourself attempting to appease him, “I-I don’t…I’m sorry, I…”

“It’s alright,” he whispers sincerely, settling down into bed with a content hum, “Nothin’ to worry about, love.”

You scoot closer to him and hesitantly place your head on his chest. Simon’s arm wraps around your back and tucks you even more snug against him. You close your eyes and will yourself to relax and sleep as you feel Simon’s comforting hand rubbing your back. 

Neither of you talk about it in the morning. Or the day after that. Or the day after that. You don’t bring it up, even though you want to, and Simon doesn’t try touching you like that again. Part of you wants him to, you’ve been dreaming about his touch for years but once you finally get it, you freak out?

You can’t stop beating yourself up over it. 

But then you think about the anxiety that it had caused. The apprehension. How uncomfortable it felt – how you wanted his hands off of you. 

You sighed, flopping onto your side on the couch where you sat. Your mind was buzzing annoyingly from your thoughts. 

Regardless of your problems, you were happier than ever with him. He was finally yours. Wholly and truly yours. It was bliss. 

“Got a call,” Simon says, snapping you out of your daze, “Gotta leave.”

That makes you sit up, “Leave?”

You finally notice that he’s got his bag packed – the one he only takes when he’s getting deployed. You’re on your feet in seconds, following him to the door. He’s wearing his skull balaclava so all you can see are his eyes – sad, apologetic.

“H-How long?” you ask, unable to ignore the ache in your chest as you watch him.

“Few weeks, probably,” he mutters, placing the bag down so he can tuck his feet into his boots.

He straightens up with a grunt before turning to you. He sighs, gloved hands cupping your cheeks when he sees how sad you look – like a kicked puppy. You wish you could feel his bare hands on you but can’t find it in you to ask. 

“I don’t want you to go,” you find yourself mumbling.

It’s selfish and even a bit cruel of you to voice that desire. Simon’s thumb strokes your cheek in that sweet way he always does and you melt into him. He lets you thump your head against his chest as you suppress your cries, biting your lip so you can keep your tears at bay. 

“I know,” he softly whispers, stroking your back as you cling to him, “I know, but I have to.”

“I know,” you mumble, finally looking up at him. You know your eyes are glassy and you make sure to blink back the tears so they never overflow, “Just be safe and come home, okay?”

He lifts his mask up just enough to expose his lips before he leans down to kiss you. It’s a whole body experience this time. He clutches you against him like his life depends on it, gloved hands fiercely gripping the back of your t-shirt. His lips move smoothly against yours, hand coming up to cup your jaw so he can tilt your head and pull you even deeper into his kiss. He pulls away when he needs to breathe, smiling when he sees the dazed, lovesick expression on your face. He tugs his mask down and lets you go but you stay as close to him as possible. 

“Make sure you stay warm,” he coos, “Gonna start gettin’ real cold in a couple days.”

“I will, Si,” you assure him.

“Left some cash for you to do your shoppin’,” he adds, “I know you’re a shit cook but I left a list of some easy recipes. Don’t burn the flat down.”

You snort and playfully smack his shoulder, “I’ll just buy some cup noodles in that case.”

He rolls his eyes, pinching your side to make you gasp from the ticklish feeling, “Don’t even think about it.”

Your grin falters when his phone makes that obnoxious beeping noise that lets you know it’s something urgent. He sighs, the tranquil happiness between you two broken immediately. He kisses your forehead through his mask and pulls the front door open.

“Keep this locked,” he mutters, stepping past the threshold, “I’ll be home soon.”

He closes the door and you’re left with an emptiness that overcomes you. You’ve always been scared for him when he has to go off on missions – you know that his job is extremely dangerous and he could lose his life at any moment. That thought alone makes a nauseous pit settle in your stomach. You push down the feeling of bile rising in the back of your throat and click the lock on the door with a sigh before you go about your day, trying your best to keep your mind off of him and where he might be in the world. 

True to his word, however, the temperature drops bitterly cold within 2 days after he leaves. There had already been a chill in the air that drove you to turn the heating on just a bit but now it was full blast. But now, it was dipping to freezing and you were anticipating the arrival of snow soon enough as well. 

You wake up one morning, however, and your apartment is bitterly cold. You sit up, confused before climbing out of bed. Your feet are immediately freezing as you step onto the floor. You hiss, wrapping your arms around yourself as you stumble over to the radiator in your room. You touch it and find absolutely no heat emanating from it. 

All the radiators are the same. Absolutely no heat. 

You curse, realizing you have no idea what you’re supposed to do. You curl up on the couch under a heavy throw blanket as you type with bitterly cold fingers into Google, looking for anything that can help you. But it’s to no avail. You can’t understand a thing. 

Your next thought is to call the building manager but you know that’s pointless. The useless man never actually helps with any work for his tenants. 

There’s no way in hell that you can afford to call someone to come and fix the problem. You have money for groceries but if you spent that you wouldn’t have anything to eat. You sigh, resolving yourself to bundling up and trying to stay as warm as you can. 

You pile all the blankets you have into bed and pick out only your thickest, warmest sweaters. 

This is going to be miserable, you think. 

The snow comes just a short week later and it feels even colder. You venture out of your flat to go to the grocery store, picking up ingredients for the dishes Simon wrote down for you and also some cans of soup that you can cook to stay warm. You also throw some boxes of tea and some hot chocolate in with it, figuring why not. Warm drinks will help. 

It’s almost 3 weeks of living like that. It’s miserable and makes your bones ache from how stiff the cold makes you feel. You make sure to eat nice, hot food to keep yourself warm and make frequent cups of warm drinks so you can keep your hands warm for as long as you can. You do your best. 

The worst is showers, though. When you’re standing under the blisteringly hot spray, it’s bliss. But the second you step out and your wet body is hit with the freezing air, you couldn’t have felt more miserable. 

The night Simon walks through the door, he finds you bundled up on the couch sipping a cup of hot chocolate. 

“Simon!” you gasp excitedly, tossing the blankets off to take a running leap at him. 

He huffs contentedly when he catches you in his arms, letting you embrace him for as long as you need. He strips his mask off and brings you in for a delicate kiss.

“Let me wash up,” he mumbles, stalking through the apartment.

“Um, before you do, Si,” you catch him at the entrance to the hallway. He turns to you and looks at you with a brow raised, “The um…heating is broken so…just letting you know when you come out of the shower it’s gonna suck.”

“Ain’t nothin’ I haven’t dealt with before,” he mutters and pauses, “The fuck you mean it’s broken?”

“Heating cut off a few weeks ago…” you shrug, wrapping your arms around yourself as you start to feel the cold creep in again.

“A few weeks ago?” he hisses, running a stressed hand through his hair, “Fuckin’ hell. You didn’t call someone to fix it?”

You pout as he raises his voice, clearly frustrated, “I couldn’t afford it, Si! I had the money you gave me for food but I wasn’t gonna spend that to get the heating fixed. You know the building manager is a piece of shit, not like he was gonna call someone.”

He sighs, crossing his arms over his chest, seemingly thinking something over. Then he turns on his heel and storms into the bathroom, slamming the door.

“I’m sorry, Simon!” you call through the door, “I didn’t know what else to do! Please, don’t be mad.”

The shower turns on and all you can do is look up and sigh in exasperation. The second he’s home and he’s already pissed at you. 

You sulk over to the couch and flop down, tossing your blankets over you as you grab your mug. The hot chocolate is still warm but not as hot as it was. It’ll have to do.

Simon comes out of the shower, gets dressed warmly, and joins you in the living room. He doesn’t even look at you as he makes a move for his bag that he left by the door. You almost think he’s going to scoop the bag up and storm out the door. You sit up, ready to stop him but instead, he stoops down and zips it open. He pulls out his wallet and approaches you. 

“What are you doing?” you mumble, watching him flip the thing open.

It’s old and worn, a simple black leather wallet. He’s had it for as long as you could remember and you’ve put the poor thing through the washer and dryer so many times that you’re shocked it's still intact. 

He pulls out a bank card and promptly hands it to you. Your brain stutters to a stop as you look at it.

“Take it, fuck sake,” he mutters. He sounds annoyed but the way he looks away and his ears turn pink you can tell he’s…shy. 

Simon Riley is fucking shy right now.

You take the bank card out of his hand and look at it, flipping over in your hands, “Why are you giving this to me?”

“So you can use it,” he mumbles, slamming his wallet shut and tossing it onto the table, “That way, in case anything happens you can withdraw from my account for what you need. If an emergency happens and I’m not around, use it.”

“Simon…” you mumble, looking up at him, “Are you sure..?”

“Course I’m sure,” he scoffs, taking a seat beside you before softly rattling off four digits.

“Huh?” you dumbly ask.

“It’s my pin,” he responds, grabbing one of the blankets you have piled on the couch and tossing it on his lap.

“That’s my birthday…” you say softly as you repeat the numbers over and over in your head, “Your bank pin is my birthday?”

He snatches the remote up from the table and turns the TV on without another word. But you can see how pink the tips of his ears are. It makes you beam and before you know it, you’re curling snugly into his side. 

“Love you, Si,” you whisper, earning a kiss to the top of your head in response.

Simon calls the next morning to have someone come by and fix the damn heating. You listen to the man rattle off some information to Simon about what the problem was but it makes virtually no sense to you so you resolve yourself to sitting on the couch and waiting until it’s warm again. 

But even when it’s nice and toasty inside, you still plaster yourself to Simon’s side, snuggling as close to him as you possibly can.

“I want you to meet my team,” Simon says one morning while he’s making some eggs. 

You’re standing by the toaster, waiting for it to pop up but his words make you turn to him, “You mean 141?”

“Who else?” he huffs, flipping one of the eggs. It sizzles loudly in the pan, “They wanted me to go out with them tonight. Thought you could join us.”

“Really?” you realize how incredulous you sound and then try again, “I mean really? That’s okay with you?”

He nods, plating the eggs, “I think it’s time they met you.”

“I-I’d love to,” you say, unable to hide the excitement you feel. 

You catch a slip of a smile on Simon’s face before the toast pops up and distracts you. 

You have to dig into your closet that evening, after a shower, to find something nice to wear. You figure an occasion like this calls for something a little nicer than just jeans and a t-shirt like you usually wear. But you can’t find much of anything. 

“What’re you huffin’ about in  here?” Simon asks when he walks in, towel wrapped around his waist. He’s still dripping wet from the shower and you can feel the way your mouth fills with saliva at the sight. 

“I uh…don’t know what to wear…” you respond, turning your back to him just as he slips the towel off. Your cheeks feel like they’re on fire, imagining Simon completely naked behind you.

“Wear those nice jeans you got,” he mumbles, grunting as he gets himself dressed, “And that little blue top you got.”

“The cropped one?” you ask incredulously, a brow raised as you turn to him. He’s got some jeans on now and he’s meticulously unfolding a black t-shirt so he can put it on, “I haven’t worn that in a while, how’d you even remember it?”

He shrugs, the muscles in his back rippling with his movement before he tosses the shirt over his head and pulls it down, covering his skin once again, “It’s cute. We’re just goin’ to the pub, love.”

“Okay,” you mumble, reaching into the back of your closet to pull the little shirt out, “If you’re sure this will be okay.”

“I’m sure,” he chuckles softly, grabbing his balaclava off the dresser. But he doesn’t put it on yet. Instead, he sits on the bed and watches you change.

You’re acutely aware of his eyes on you as you strip your shirt off. You keep your back to him, trying to ignore your racing heart. You don’t feel uncomfortable at all, instead you feel…excited. 

Your mind runs wild, imagining him stepping up behind you, kissing your neck and cupping your bare breasts in his big hands. They’re a little rough from his line of work and you wonder what they’d feel like against the sensitive skin of your tits, thumbing your nipples and pinching them a little meanly. 

“C-Can you hand me a bra?” you find yourself asking.

He grunts in acknowledgement and the bed creaks when his weight moves off it. He opens one of the drawers and is behind you in a second. His body heat permeates through his shirt as he presses his chest against your back. 

He slings your bra over your shoulder, holding it with one finger by the strap. You can’t help but tilt your head back to look up at him. He’s towering over you, pretty, brown eyes looking down his nose at you. 

You realize in this position, he could clearly see your breasts but he keeps his eyes on yours. You take the bra from him and he lets you, simply staring into your eyes with that stern silence he has about him.

“T-Thanks…” you find yourself whispering, mouth feeling particularly dry.

He grunts, lips quirked up just a bit before he turns his back and walks back to the bed. You let out a quiet, slow breath, willing your heart rate to go back to normal.

Simon was so exhilarating. Just being around him sets your heart racing and fingers trembling. 

You put your bra on and slip your top over your head, ignoring the sticky feeling in your panties as you do. 

“I don’t know, Si,” you mutter, turning to face him, “I-It’s a little tight on me now.”

The fabric once hugged you nicely but now it was snug. It molded around your breasts, even showing the lines of your bra. The neckline was low, giving a good show of cleavage – it didn’t help that Simon picked one of your more well padded bras. 

Simon looks up, his eyes immediately falling to your breasts. He sucks in a quick breath and looks away, licking his lips.

“Looks fine,” he mutters, standing to pull one of the drawers open again. He searches for a second, brows furrowed until he pulls out the jeans he was talking about. The ‘nice jeans’ as he called them, were just some low rise jeans you’d only worn about 4 times.

You look dumbly at them as he drops them into your hands.

“These?” you scoff, “Simon, I can’t–”

He quiets you with a kiss to your forehead, “Trust me, love.”

He steps out of the room after that, leaving you to your own devices. You’re thankful that you can change your panties without him seeing how saturated and sticky they’ve become because of him. You bury them in the laundry basket and remind yourself that you should do the laundry before he does because you’d be mortified if he found them. 

You don’t even look at yourself in the mirror, afraid you’ll feel too self-conscious if you see what you look like. But you trust Simon’s judgment on what he thinks would look good on you – and you can’t deny that dressing up how he likes feels nice. 

You step into the living room, intent on pulling your shoes on when Simon catches you with an arm around your waist. You gasp as he turns you to face him.

“You look lovely,” he whispers, smoothing his hands up your sides, thumbs slipping under the hem of your shirt to stroke your skin.

You swallow thickly as your heart starts racing in your chest again. He leans down and pecks your lips but pulls back before you have the chance to kiss back. 

“Let’s go,” is all he adds before walking away, leaving you no choice but to follow like the lovesick puppy you are. 

Walking into the bar, your heart pounds painfully in your chest from pure anxiety. Your hand is clasped tightly in Simon’s as he easily moves through the crowd. You suppose his height makes it easy to see over people. 

“You alright?” he asks, leaning down to whisper in your ear.

“Haven’t been in a bar since I worked at…” you trail off, giving him a half-hearted shrug.

“If you wanna leave, just say the word,” he mutters, giving your hand a squeeze.

“N-No,” you shake your head, shooting him a wobbly smile,”I wanna meet your team at least.”

He smiles reassuringly and gives your hand a tug to encourage you to follow him. He leads you right to a table situated in a corner, three men laughing and drinking. 

“There he is!” the one with the mohawk cheeks, holding up his pint in celebration.

“Shut up, Soap,” Simon grumbles petulantly as he pulls out a chair for you.

Soap, you note to yourself. You know them by name but you’ve never actually seen the faces to put to them. Soap looks like you imagined, a broad grin and pretty, bright eyes – you imagined them green but they’re blue. 

“And who is this lovely companion of yours, Simon?” an older man with a hat and mutton chops asks with a kind smile, eyes on you.

Simon says your name before he sits down with a grunt beside you.

“Price,” your boyfriend supplies when you look curiously at him.

The man in question holds out a hand which you take and softly shake, “Nice to meet you.”

“Had no idea Lt. had someone waitin’ for him at home,” Soap says, a teasing lilt in his voice. 

So you’ve met Soap, Price, and that leaves; your eyes land on the quiet guy sitting back in his chair, a cool smile on his lips. He meets your gaze and his smile broadens – not teasing like Soap’s but purely kind.

“You can call me Kyle,” he gives you a polite nod.

“Gaz, then?” you question, tilting your head to the side. Kyle looks surprised, eyes flicking to Simon who shifts uncomfortably in his chair, “He’s talked about all of you before. I only know your call signs though.”

“John will do fine if you’d like,” Price says, tipping his beer back to take a chug.

“Simon calls me Johnny,” Soap adds, “You’re welcome to as well. Anyone important to the Lieutenant is important to us.”

Out of the corner of your eye you see Simon roll his eyes. It makes you smile. He leans over, nudging you with his knee, “You want anything to drink? I need one.”

“No thank you, Si,” you reply, intent on having a clear head for the night. You’ve never been much of a drinker anyway. 

When Simon’s gone from the table, you suddenly feel incredibly out of place. Price and Kyle have the decency to not stare you down but Soap seems keen on keeping his baby blue’s right on you and a goofy little smile on his face.

“Um…” you shift uncomfortably as you look back at him.

“We’ve never gotten to meet anyone from Ghost’s private life before,” Soap says, saving you from having to think of what to say, “Just shocked s’all.” 

“You’re gonna start giving the poor thing the creeps with your ugly mug,” Kyle chuckles which also makes Soap laugh.

“Sorry about that,” Soap lifts his glass and cheers to you before tipping it back. 

He grimaces slightly as it goes down before slamming his glass back on the table.

“It’s alright,” you respond, “Si’s not really the open book kind. So I understand.”

“How long have the two of you known each other?” Kyle asks.

You find yourself wondering where the hell Simon even is but answer regardless, “Since we were kids. Um, we lived next door. His mom and mine were friends, I guess.”

Soap nods his head, elbows on the table as he gives you his full attention, “You guess?”

You hum, “I’m 3 years younger than Simon. The way it was told to me by my mom is that…his mom came over and,” you couldn’t fight back the smile as you recalled the story.

“Oh this has got to be good,” Soap nudged Kyle excitedly at your grin.

“Told my mom that Simon didn’t have any friends and that he was a…soft-hearted boy and she wanted him to have some friends,” you giggle, holding a hand in front of your face to hide your laughter, “So she wanted to set up playdates with me even though I was still a baby. My mom didn’t have the heart to tell her no.”

Soap tosses his head back and laughs, “No fuckin’ way.”

“I’m shocked to say it but that actually makes him sound cute,” Kyle adds, unable to hide the laughter in his voice either.

“Don’t let him hear you say that,” Price says, but there’s a smile on his face, “Simon’ll knock you out cold on this table.”

“So you and Simon have been together since?” Kyle asks, glass cupped in both hands.

You nod, “Only time we’ve been apart is when he enlisted and had to go off for a few years to train.”

Soap opens his mouth to say something but a large figure finally drops down into the seat next to you. Simon has a glass of bourbon and a glass that he slides over to Soap who catches it with ease.

“Thanks, Lt,” he nods, taking a sip before making that disgusted face again.

“What are you lot talkin’ about?” Simon asks, drumming his fingers against his glass.

“We were discussin’ all your dirty secrets,” Kyle teases with a charming grin.

“Nothin’ too damning I hope,” Simon huffs before he takes a large gulp of his drink. 

The other three men all hide their grins behind their glasses. 

The anxiety you had felt at the beginning of the night is long gone. The task force is full of jokes and laughs and even Simon seems like a different person. 

With you, he’s kind and even soft. He’s by no means gentle or patient. 

But this side of Simon is so jovial and comfortable that it warms your heart to see. He drinks a few glasses and by the end of the night, he’s got a relaxed, lidded look in his eyes that lets you know he’s got a bit of a buzz going on. 

“It was lovely to meet you,” Price says when you all walk out of the bar.

“I really enjoyed meeting all of you as well,” you smile, letting Simon tuck you into his side with an arm wrapped around your waist.

“Get him home safe,” Soap teases, your smile only widening when you hear Simon huff in annoyance. 

You bid goodbye to the three of them and make your way to the car with Simon, plucking his keys out of his hand and forcing him into the passenger seat despite his grumbled protests of how ‘he’s not that drunk’.

When the two of you finally get into your apartment, you let him lock up and turn out the lights while you go to the bedroom and get ready for bed. 

“You looked really nice tonight,” Simon mutters when he finally walks in as you crawl into bed, “I’m glad you liked them.”

“I’m glad they liked me,” you huff, leaning back into the pillows, “They were all really nice guys.”

“Yeah,” Simon hums, tugging his shirt off of his head, taking his mask with it, “They’re good people.”

You nod your head and tuck your knees to your chest while he gets undressed. He slips on a plaid pair of pajama pants and shoves the drawer closed with his hip before yanking the blanket back to make room for his large body. 

You bounce a little on the bed when he drops his weight onto it. He smacks his pillow a couple times before he lays back and sighs. It’s clear he’s still a little buzzed from the way he fights to keep his eyes open.

“Simon?” you ask, turning to face him. 

That makes his eyes open back up before he looks at you, “What?”

“Can I kiss you?” you ask. 

He snorts and it makes you smile. He reaches out and wraps his hand around the back of your head. You let him tug you down, pressing your hands against his firm chest as you kiss him. 

His hand travels down your back as he sighs into your mouth. You pull away briefly to look into his eyes before you kiss him again, this time deepening it as much as you’re able. Simon sighs contentedly, his other hand coming up to caress your arm. 

“I like kissin’ you…” you find yourself whispering against his lips.

He groans at that, the sound going straight to your core. You feel yourself clench around nothing, already starting to leak into your panties. 

“Yeah?” he coos, cupping your cheek, thumbing over your lips, “You can kiss me all you want, love.”

You whimper, surging down to kiss him again. His hands grip your waist, intermittently squeezing you, like he doesn’t know what to do with his hands. 

Suddenly, you feel the warm, slick slide of his tongue against your lips. You whimper and pull back, brows furrowed.

“Shh, love,” he coos, pulling you close again, “Jus’ relax and let me…”

You huff, struggling to catch your breath as he urges you to meet his lips again. You feel his tongue again and eagerly open your mouth, letting him taste the inside of your mouth. You shyly meet his tongue with yours and feel his grip on your waist tighten as he groans in his throat. 

You’re sure you’ve soaked well through your panties by now. There’s an ache in your clit that you long to reach down and relieve – or better yet, have Simon relieve. 

You bet his fingers would feel so damn good against you. You find yourself whimpering into the kiss at the thought alone. Simon lets out a husky laugh into your mouth before pulling away. 

A string of spit connects your lips before it breaks and vanishes. 

With a surge of confidence, you toss your leg over his waist. He grunts when your weight settles on his hips, on his cock. It’s chubbed up against his thigh from kissing you and he knows you can feel it. 

“What’re you doin’, baby?” he huffs, unable to stop his hands from traveling up the front of your body. 

You grab his wrist and boldly slide it under the hem of your shirt. He bites his lip to keep from moaning when he feels your bare breast fill his palm. You see the way his eyes start to roll back before he looks at you again. It makes you throb in your panties and you can’t resist grinding against him a little before he grabs your waist and stops you.

“Si…” you whimper, pressing your hands against his chest, “‘S wrong?”

“Can’t,” he clears his throat and sinks into the bed, “Can’t do this, love.”

“Why not?” you ask, feeling a pit of disappointment in your gut, “You don’t want to? I just thought…”

You feel your face burn with humiliation as you slide off of his lap. Simon lets you, simply laying there on his back, eyes closed and a knit between his brows, as he evens his breathing out. You fight back tears as you sit there, biting the inside of your lip anxiously. 

“Not…not tonight, sweetheart,” he finally says, reaching over to pet your hair, “Been drinkin’ ‘nd I want to be sober for it, yeah?”

It would have been a solid excuse if it didn’t sound so flimsy coming from his lips. Like he doesn’t even believe it himself. 

“Yeah…” you offer, giving him a wobbly smile before turning out the light. 

You’re too embarrassed to cuddle into him that night. 

“Can I ask you something?” you find yourself muttering as you relax on the couch with him, watching some old movie he picked out, “As long as you promise not to get mad.”

He snorts, taking a sip of his tea, “Won’t get mad.”

“I just want to know…” you clear your throat and sit up straight a little more, going over the question in your head, “Why did you leave that night…leave like that, just to have sex?”

He tenses up immediately, you can feel it. He shifts where he sits, spreading his legs just a little wider so he can sink deeper into the couch, “We already talked about this.”

You wince at his clipped tone, knowing you’re stepping into dangerous territory, “I know but…I want to know the real reason.”

He catches his bottom lip between his teeth and sighs, keeping his eyes trained on the TV, “You think I was lyin’ to you?”

Now he sounds mad. You quickly shake your head, “No, Si. I-I’m not trying to start a fight, I swear. I don’t think you were lying. I just think you…weren’t telling me everything.”

He sighs. You can see the way his jaw ticks when he clenches it, “Is that right?”

“Yeah,” you breathe, scooting a little closer to him, placing your hands on his chest, smoothing his shirt down a bit, “It was just…out of character for you, Si. I was really upset and you knew that. It wasn’t like you to just…leave. Just to get laid.”

He finally looks at you, just out of the corner of his eye. You meet the look, offering him an encouraging smile to show that you’re not upset or anything. 

“All night,” he finally mutters, “You’d been kickin’ in your sleep. Kept wakin’ me up.”

You nodded, a look of confusion on your face. You had no idea where this was going.

“You started sayin’ my name,'' he continued, “Moanin’ my name. Fuck, it was drivin’ me crazy.”

Your face flushes hot when you hear that. It all suddenly comes rushing back to you – what you’d been dreaming about. 

“You threw your leg over mine and I could–” he cuts himself off, his throat moving with how hard he swallows.

“Could what?” your voice comes out shockingly breathy. 

He catches it, looking at you. You can see the way his pupils widen immediately when he meets your gaze. It’s like he can see right through you, see the fact you’re dripping into your panties again. Just from this conversation alone. 

“I could feel how fuckin’ wet you were,” he brings a shaky hand up and runs it through his hair before he leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, “Couldn’t fuckin’ deal with it. I had to…let it out somehow.”

“So you knew that I wanted you…like that?” you find yourself asking.

He scoffs and shakes his head, “Didn’t think about it like that. Figured it was just a dream and that’s all it was.”

“Wasn’t just a dream,” you assure, scooting closer to him.

Simon’s breath catches in his throat when you lean over him, resting your hand on the arm rest on his other side, letting it support your weight. You stand on your knees, making you just a little taller than him before you lean down and kiss him. 

He remains completely still, like he’s processing. His hands flounder in the air for a second before he’s carefully pushing you to sit back down. You slump against your heels and look at him, perturbed.

“Why..?”

“I need to make dinner,” he says lamely. 

“Simon…” you admonish, knowing he’s lying. 

He gets up, knees cracking as he does. He winces a little bit before he bends down to pick up the blanket that fell to the floor when he stood. You kept your eyes on him, worrying your bottom lip between your teeth. You almost let him go but before you can stop him, you grab his arm. 

“I don’t know what I’m doing, Simon,” you mutter, “I keep trying to make things go further with you but I just keep making a fool of myself and I–”

“‘S not you,” he assures softly, taking your hand in his, “‘S all me, baby.”

“So why…” you frown, “I want you.”

He shakes his head, “Night you told me how you felt. You sounded scared.” 

You remember, the way his touch had made anxiety fill you. You had wanted him, of course, but for some reason it had just been so damn awful at the same time. You hadn’t really dwelled on why that was. 

“It wasn’t ‘cause of you, Si,” you assured, shifting so your feet were on the floor rather than under you, “I promise. I-I was just nervous, I think. That’s all.”

“I don’t want…” he licks his lips, seemingly thinking over his next words carefully before he says them slowly, “I don’t to hear you sound like that with me again. ‘S why I’ve been avoidin’ it. ‘Cause I don’t want you to get scared again.”

You shake your head, rising to your feet, stepping in front of him. You take his hands in yours and squeeze them, “I don’t want to make a fool of myself with you, Simon.”

He frowns, “You know I would never think poorly of you.”

You smile and shrug, “I know that. I think…that time was just…too soon. After that night at the bar and everything that happened. And then the fact I’m so inexperienced that it’s laughable. I think…I just wasn’t ready for it. I needed to go at my own pace and I have been.”

“I don’t want you to push yourself,” he hums, “I know that night at the bar was terrifying,” he brings a hand up to brush over your cheek, “I understand if you’re not goin’ to be ready for a long time. It’s normal to not be ready after what happened to you.”

You huff, “I’ve been trying to show you that I’ve been ready for a while now, Si. I was anxious at first, yes. But now it’s…like a good kind of nervous.”

“A good kind of nervous?” he mutters, hands moving to your hips to pull you closer. Your breath hitches in your throat and you nod dumbly, “Tell me all about it.”

“L-Like my heart races,” you breathe, “And I feel scared that I’m gonna do something silly and embarrassing but like I want to learn and…and I want to do good for you.”

“Fuck,” Simon groans, dropping his head to rest on your shoulder, “Can’t say shit like that to a man like me, love.”

“Why not?” you whimper, feeling your knees tremble in excitement when you feel his hands start to wander.

“‘Cause…” he whispers, running his hands up your sides, “Makes me think some nasty shit, sweetheart.”

You swallow thickly at the promise in his voice, “Simon…” 

You sound so wrecked already and it makes him moan softly in your ear, “Tell me about it, baby.”

Just like that, you’re spilling your guts to him, “Get so wet for you, Si, all the time. I want you so bad that it hurts.”

“Yeah?” he breathes, finally pulling his head from where he was hiding in your shoulder, tilting your chin up, “Where’s it hurt, baby? Hm? Right in that needy little cunt?”

You whimper immediately, looking up at him with wide, hazy eyes and nod, “T-Tried to touch myself. Thinkin’ about you made it hurt so I couldn’t help myself. Thought about you when I did.”

He hums as you babble to him but his mind latches onto one particular word, “Tried, baby? What do you mean "tried?”

Your cheeks burn hot at the slip up. Would he think you were silly for it?

“C-Can’t do it right,” you confess softly, hoping he doesn’t see how embarrassed you are, “Try so hard but n-nothin’ ever happens.”

Simon moans at that. Loud and unbridled, “What’re you sayin’, baby? That you can’t make yourself cum, s’that it?” You shake your head bashfully, “Fuckin’ hell. That’s adorable.”

“D-Don’t tease me, Si,” you whimper but the seat of your panties is so fucking wet that it’s sticking to you. 

He hums, a predatory smile spreads across his face, “Am I bein’ mean, love?” You nod your head, tearfully staring up at him. It only makes his smile widen, canines popping out, “‘M sorry. Can’t help myself when you tell me ‘bout how you touch your pretty little pussy and just can’t make yourself cum like you need. Think I can do it for you, hm? Want me to try and make you cum?”

You vigorously nod your head, uncaring how fucking needy you look to him. He’s offering to give you what you’ve wanted for years – to give you a real, honest to God orgasm. And you weren’t going to let this chance slip away. 

“Want you on the bed,” he suddenly whispers, “On your back, lose the pants but keep everything else on.”

With a jerk of his head in the direction of the bedroom, you take off. You hear him chuckle behind you at your excitement. He makes sure the door is locked before he heads back to the bedroom. 

You’re there just like he asked, pants pooled on the floor, leaving you in nothing but an old t-shirt of his and a pair of the cutest little lilac colored panties he’s seen. You’ve got your knees pinned together, clenching your thighs but laying perfectly still in waiting for him. 

“So fuckin’ good for me,” he praises, grinning when you whimper and tremble at his words, “Oh, sweet thing likes to be praised, huh?”

You nod your head, “Wanna be good for you, Si.”

“That’s sweet, baby,” he coos, reaching to the back of his collar so he can tug his shirt off of his head. 

Your heart hammers away in your chest when he crawls onto the bed, hands on either side of your head. He looks so big like this, on top of you, completely blocking any view you had of your ceiling and instead filling your viewline with just him. He leans down and kisses you, humming contentedly when you eagerly kiss back. Your hands find purchase on his shoulders as he uses one hand to tug your legs open so he can slot himself between them. 

You cry out when he presses himself against your core. He’s wearing nothing but his jeans but you can feel the heat radiating through the thick material. 

“Shit, look at that,” he whispers, leaning back on his heels to admire the nice little wet patch that has stained your panties, “You already this wet, baby?”

“Kissin’ you always makes me this wet, Si,” you sweetly confess and oh, you are just so precious. 

His hands slide up your stomach, moving your t-shirt up and up until it sits crumpled under your chin. Your tits are bare and move with every gasping breath that you take. 

Simon’s hands are just as rough and warm as you’d expect them to be. His thumbs come up and glide over your nipples until they harden into stiff little peaks for him. 

Then his mouth is wrapping around one, swirling his tongue around it before pulling off with a lewd pop. His hand pinches the other nipple, rolling it between his fingers as he listens to you whimper and sigh. 

“Please, Si,” you whine, “I-It hurts, please.”

“It hurts?” he hums, leaving a fleeting kiss against the nipple his tongue was torturing just a moment ago, “Where? Hm?”

His hand travels down your body, cupping your cunt through your panties. You gasp, arching your hips just a bit to grind against his palm. He lets you, before he meanly pins your hips down with his other hand. 

“Where, love?” he smooths the pad of his thumb over the seam of your cunt through your panties. The fabric is saturated with your slick, letting him see every part of you through shape alone. His thumb finds your clit, the little bud poking out through the fabric from how hard and swollen it's become, “Here? ‘S it your pretty clit that hurts, love?”

You nod, eyes rolling back in your head when he presses his thumb against the bud, trapping it under his finger so he can roll mean little circles over it. You’d be mindlessly rutting your hips by now if he didn’t have his other arm slung over your hips to keep you pinned nice and still like he wants. 

It already feels so different than when you touched yourself. Maybe because it’s him or maybe because he’s so experienced. 

That thought makes you equal parts jealous and equal parts turned on. He’d slept with plenty of people but now he was using that expertise to make you feel good. 

“Can you take them off, please?” you whine, pitchy and sweet from arousal. 

“Asked so sweetly for me,” he coos, hitching his thumbs into the band of your panties before giving them a firm tug. 

You quickly lift your hips, letting him tug them down and off of your feet. You expect him to toss them away but instead he holds them up, thumbing over the slickness in the crotch. You watch him with wide eyes as he analyzes it. Your  breath hitches when he suddenly brings them towards his face and licks a wide stripe of the fabric, moaning when he gets a good laste of your syrupy sweet slick.

“Simon!” you gasp – admonish, leaning up to snatch them out of his grasp. 

His eyes open, he hadn’t even realized he’d closed them, to look at you. He licks his lips like a dog licking its chops when it tastes something real delicious. 

He doesn’t even comment on what he just did or the pure embarrassment that is written all over your face. Instead, he grips underneath your knees and yanks you down the bed towards him so your hips are situated in his lap. 

“Jus’ let me touch you, love,” he whispers, “I’ll work a nice little orgasm out of you in no time, yeah?”

You nod your head because you trust him. You know he’s going to be able to give you what you need so badly. You don’t even question it – especially when you feel how good it feels when he uses his thumbs to spread your folds open for him. He groans when he sees the sticky strings of slick that display just how turned on you are. 

Pretty little hole clenching sporadically around nothing, dribbling more creamy arousal that makes his tongue feel like lead in his mouth. A pretty clit that twitches and throbs under his scrutinizing gaze. But you make no move to cover yourself and hide from his gaze. 

He finally touches the bud directly and it’s like electricity strikes through you. You lose control of your body as your back arches and your thighs violently twitch. Your cheeks burn when you hear him chuckle softly at your reaction.

“Sensitive,” he huffs, a crooked little grin on his face as he brushes his thumb over your clit again, garnering the same reaction as before from you, “Fuck, can’t believe you’re this sensitive and can’t make yourself cum.”

“‘S cause it’s you, Si,” you sweetly confess.

And it’s true. Having him touch you like this directly – feeling his callused skin over the most sensitive little part of you is euphoric. It doesn’t feel anything like when you touch yourself at all. It feels magnified, you feel like a live wire and everything feels like too much. But you don’t do anything to impede him because you trust him more than anything – especially like this, with your body. 

He replaced his thumb with his middle finger, prodding at your entrance. You almost think he’s going to press inside you but he doesn’t – instead, he gathers your slick up on his finger and drags it up to your clit. He softly circles the bud, cock kicking against his thigh when you sigh and croon so sweetly for him. 

Your cunt makes sticky noises as he continues doing this, gathering your arousal and lathering your precious bud up with it so he can so softly play with it. His touches aren’t enough to actually work you to the edge, it’s much too slow and soft but it feels good. He waits for you to relax against the bed, lashes fluttering as you whimper and twitch on the bed for him.

“There you go, sweetheart,” he whispers, leaning forward to press a kiss against your trembling thigh, “Relax f’me. Want you nice and soft for me so I can get my fingers in this tight little cunt.”

You gasp at that, partly in excitement and also in apprehension. You’ve never actually put anything inside yourself before – except once, you put your finger in and it burned so you never tried it again. 

“D-Dont…” you find yourself muttering, making him freeze. He thinks you’ve changed your mind, anxiety getting the better of you and he’s fully prepared to propel himself away from you at a moment's notice, “Be gentle, okay?”

His gaze softens when he looks at you, “Won’t hurt you, love. I promise.”

You remain relaxed for him when he carefully prods you with his middle finger. He keeps his thumb pressed against your clit, not rubbing it or anything, just keeping a nice pressure that keeps you sagged against the pillows. 

It doesn’t feel anything like when you tried that one time with yourself. Everything is so much wetter and more pliant. It’s like your walls just suck the digit in, even though it’s so much bigger than your own finger. 

You sigh softly when you finally have something to clench around. Simon gives you a sweet kiss to the spot right underneath your belly button in silent praise. He keeps his lidded, brown eyes on your face, watching every little expression you make with rapt attention. 

He slowly and carefully fucks his middle finger into you, feeling the way you slowly relax around him, soaking his skin with your arousal. He smooths his free hand up the length of your body, abandoning your clit to wrap his palm around your breast. You place your own hand over his, encouraging him to squeeze harder. 

“How’s that feel, love?” he asks, still sliding his finger in and out of you.

“Okay…” you reply, keeping your hand over his on your chest, “But it…um…”

“What?” he urges, “Tell me what you feel.”

“I-It feels nice but…” you trail off and he hums, nodding his head.

“Doesn’t feel good?” he finishes for you. You nod your head and he laughs softly, “I know, baby. Jus’ tryin’ to get you used to the feeling and then I’ll make it feel real good, alright?”

“Okay,” you whisper but he can tell you’re not too convinced that it’s going to feel much better.

You’re worried that the same thing is going to happen – it’ll feel really good and then you’re never going to be able to climb over that wall. You hate to imagine disappointing him, failing to get off. You’d hate for him to put all this work in and you just can’t cum in the end. 

“Hey,” he coos, “Get out of your head, pretty. Don’t worry about a thing, alright?”

You take a deep breath and slowly let it out, allowing yourself to relax against the bed again. Simon waits for you to be nice and pliant around his finger before he starts to fit his ring finger alongside it. He catches sight of the furrow in your brow when he stretches you around two of his fingers. It burns but when Simon brings his thumb back to your clit, tapping against the bud, it vanishes. Your thighs twitch and you whimper, walls clenching in time with the little taps until the burning vanishes completely.

“There we are,” he praises, “Knew you could do it, sweetheart.”

“A-Are you gonna add another?” you find yourself asking.

“Later,” he responds, scissoring the two fingers he has snug inside your cunt, “‘M a big man, love. Gonna need you nice and stretched for me.”

You whimper at that, walls clenching around his fingers as he slowly begins to fuck them in and out of you. Your cheeks burn when you hear the loud, squishing noises your hole makes every time he stuffs them back inside. 

After a moment of just getting you used to being stretched on two of his thick digits, he suddenly crooks them up and hits something inside you that makes your back arch. It causes a tingling feeling that you’ve never experienced to heat your tummy every time he touches it.

“Simon!” you squeal, trying to clench your thighs closed but his broad shoulders keep them open, “Th-That feels-!”

“I know, baby,” he coos cockily, grinding his fingertips against that little spot that makes you so gooey and creamy around his fingers, “Feels real good right there, I know.”

Your back arches and your jaw drops. You can’t do anything but moan and cry out as he fucks against that spot. He’s urged on by your sounds of pure pleasure, eyes flicking between where he’s got your pretty cunt spread open and the euphoric expressions you can’t do anything to hide.

It’s so precious, seeing you so open and loud for him. You don’t do anything to hide your sounds of pleasure nor do you even think of faking any of them for his sake. Every little thing you’re feeling, you express, and you can’t help yourself because it’s all so new and so much.

That hot, tingling feeling in your core only intensifies with every experienced stroke of his fingers. Your eyes are rolling back every time he touches that magnificent spot inside you, abusing it with his fingers until your walls are soft and malleable for him again.

And then he brings his index finger into it. He’s even more slow and careful as he fits it in beside the other two fingers. It doesn’t burn like when he had given you his second finger but it’s a certain stretch that simply feels strange. 

He gets you stuffed open on his three fingers, up to the third knuckle. You’re spread so wide and squeeze his fingers so tight that it makes him moan when he thinks about what it will feel like around his cock. 

If you’re this tight around just his fingers then you’re going to feel positively euphoric around him. 

“Simon…” you coo, reaching down to card your fingers through his hair. 

He grunts in acknowledgement, but is unwilling to part his gaze from the sight of the creamy mess you’ve begun to leave on his fingers. Your pretty clit is twitching and so swollen, glistening from your juices and he suddenly has the inescapable desire to wrap his mouth around it. 

You’re not even looking when he decides to do it. It’s like he can’t stop himself. 

All you feel is something wet and hot wrap around the little bud. You practically wail at the feeling of his tongue sliding against it. Your feet kick aimlessly, hitting his back and shoulders as you flail beneath his body. 

You sob his name, yanking harshly on his hair in a way that hurts but he’s not going to stop you. He knows it’s mean to do this, not even warning you or easing you into the feeling before he’s suckling your clit. His tongue slips in circles around it, flicking it with the tip of his tongue. His ears practically ring from how loud you’re crying out for him. 

His three fingers remain buried inside you but he’s hardly able to move them from how tight you’re squeezing them. All he can do is grind his fingers against your g-spot but it only makes your pretty body more twitchy and makes you squirm even more beneath him. He has to hold you down so you can’t get away. 

He doesn’t want your precious pussy to be ripped away from him, your juices are making his taste buds tingle – you taste so damn good. 

That familiar heat begins to grow in your core – one you’ve experienced many times before by yourself. You cry and wail for him, sobbing his name and gripping his hair. 

“S-Si, don’t stop, please, please, please–” you choke on your own cries, slamming your head into the pillows as your back arches painfully hard. 

He grunts lowly, blonde lashes fluttering as he watches your body’s pure, unfiltered reactions to this pleasure. He knows you’re getting close, can feel you clenching around him and your clit pulsing on his tongue in time with your heartbeat. 

You feel yourself reaching that wall, the one you can never overcome. But it feels different this time, the pleasure isn’t slowing. It’s not fading like it always does when you’ve got your own fingers on your bud. 

It always seems to slip out of your grasp by this point.

This is it, you think. You’re going to cum. You’re finally going to fucking cum. 

Then everything stops.

His tongue is gone from your clit and his fingers are nowhere to be found. Simon’s shoulders rise and fall as he watches your face flicker through a range of emotions before your eyes fill with tears and you look at him – utterly pitiful and hopeless.

“Wh-Why…” you finally whisper, tongue feeling heavy in your mouth. 

Your cunt pulses and throbs around nothing, the heat of your orgasm quickly dissipating, leaving that horribly empty and unsatisfying feeling in its wake. 

“Sorry, baby,” he coos, genuine and soft as he leans up to kiss your face, “That was mean, huh? ‘M sorry. Jus’ want you to have your first orgasm on a cock, love.”

That doesn’t do anything to quell your disappointment but you nod anyway, wiping away some stray tears that trickle from your eyes. 

“Please,” you breathlessly whisper, “Please, Simon. Want your cock, please. I-I was so close. It felt so good,” you start babbling, eyes falling to the hard outline of his cock in his jeans, “I wanna cum so bad, Si. Y-You promised. Please, just give me your cock. Please? Please? Simon!”

Simon’s mouth goes dry as he hears your babbled begging. Fuck, you’re absolutely aching for it. All you can think about is cumming. He never thought he’d get to hear you beg for him like this, so pathetically. You should be embarrassed, begging for cock like this when you’ve only just now gotten your first taste of being stretched open. Yet here you are fuckin’ crying for it.

His cock drools pre down his thigh, he can feel how wet his boxers have become from how much he’s leaking it. He’s aching in his jeans – he can’t pretend he doesn’t want it just as badly as you do.

“Shit, alright!” he snarls, wrapping a hand around your throat to force you to look at him. You gasp at the rough treatment, “Jus’ shut up and I’ll give it to you, yeah?”

You obediently nod your head, still staring up at him with those wide, teary eyes. He tries to act like his hands aren’t fucking trembling when he yanks his belt off. He doesn’t think he’s ever felt this needy – this excited to get his cock inside a pussy. 

But it’s you. You’re special. 

He loves you. This isn’t like the one night stands and hookups he’s had in the past. This is different. 

He feels like a fumbling teenager the way he clumsily yanks his belt out of the loops and shoves his jeans down his thighs along with his underwear. His cock, big and heavy, hangs under its own weight – it never slaps up against his stomach. He wasn’t just chatting shit when he said he was a big guy. 

He wrapped his hand around himself, giving it a few, firm tugs. He feels your eyes on him, watching the way he touches himself and it sends heat through him. He scoots closer to you again, pulling back his foreskin to show the fat, leaky head that he meanly taps against your clit. 

You gasp a cute little ‘ah!’ when he does that brings a smile to his face. He can’t say he’s the best lay for a virgin because he’s so big and he’s a brute – it’s in his nature. But he’s trying his best for you. 

“Alright, baby,” he coos, leaning on one forearm above your head, draping his big body over yours. He easily manhandles you into position, caging your knees against your chest and wrapping himself around you, “Just relax for me, hm? Can you do that f’me?”

You nod your head and shakily put your hands on his shoulders, cupping his jaw to bring him down to kiss you. He sighs into your lips, using his free hang to grip the base of his cock, prodding against your hole. You’re so slippery that it slides out of you and slips up your clit. You whimper at the feeling, thighs twitching at the stimulation. 

When he finally starts to press inside, your nails bite into his shoulders. It stings – it hurts. He’s so big, making your poor little cunt burn the deeper he presses himself. The head pops in and your hips jump at the feeling, his cock slipping back out. 

He huffs, dropping his forehead against your shoulder, “Fuck, sit still.”

“S-Sorry!” you whimper, “I’m sorry!”

“Shh,” he sighs, kissing your cheek, “‘S okay, baby. Hurts, huh?”

“A little,” you whimper, trying to downplay it so he won’t stop.

He hums and presses a kiss against the corner of your mouth. He knows that working an orgasm out of you before making you take his cock would be the nice thing to do but he’s selfish. He wants to feel your orgasm around his cock – where you deserve to have it. 

It’s your very first orgasm after all. It needs to be good and he knows he can make it real good once he can get you speared on his cock. 

So he grips himself again, sitting up for just a moment to lewdly spit on your pussy. It hits your clit and trickles down where he catches it with the head of his cock. He leans over your body and starts to push in again. This time he tucks his arms under your shoulders and pins you impossibly against him, leaving you with nowhere to run when he starts to press into you. 

You whimper, feet kicking against his back when he pushes deeper than before – past the head. He knows it hurts, you’re stretched beyond your limit and he waits with bated breath for you to say the word and tell him to stop. 

But you don’t. 

You just grapple your arms around his waist and dig your nails in. His skin is sweaty by now and it makes getting any purchase on him difficult. You let out a watery little whimper that has him freezing. You’re speared on half his cock when he finally looks at you. 

Your eyes are teary and they slowly drip down your cheeks.

“Do you want to stop?” he asks, brushing some away with his thumb.

You immediately shake your head, no hesitation, “No! K-Keep goin’, Si.”

“Don’t cry, pretty,” he shushes, keeping his grip under your shoulders and his hips pinned firmly against yours so you can’t squirm when he starts pressing in again. Your mouth opens in a silent gasp, eyes fluttering from the ache that settles where he’s stretching you wide, “‘S okay, just take a deep breath. ‘M almost in, love, you’re doin’ so fuckin’ good for me. Takin’ all of my cock so deep, just like you deserve. Hear me? This cock s’all yours now, yeah? Can have it whenever you need it.”

Your walls spasm around his cock as he talks, making him groan low in his chest. He’s almost there, can feel his balls starting to tap against you the deeper he gets until finally, his hips meet yours and you wail. 

He prods painfully against your cervix and he knows that it’s uncomfortable but he’s not willing to pull back just yet. He needs you to get used to being stretched and stuffed full of every inch of him. He takes care to do slow, gentle grinds, his pelvis catching your clit that eventually makes you relax. 

“That’s it,” he praises, “Just relax and let me make you feel good.”

He finally eases off of you, balancing his weight on his forearms on either side of your head, hovering over you. He slowly pulls his hips back, watching you slump against the bed when he finally stops pressing on your cervix. 

He finally starts fucking you, sliding his cock out just a bit before rolling his hips forward again. It's slow and soft, just testing the waters and getting you used to this new stimulation. 

It feels entirely different from his fingers. His cock is bigger, fills you so much more, touches deeper. 

His cock reaches spots deep inside you that his fingers didn’t even reach. But he’s permanently pressing against that spot his fingers were torturing. It feels so fucking good. 

Simon can see the way your eyes roll back as he carefully fucks you. Your first cock and you’re taking it so damn well. It makes him want to see how much more you can take but he knows he needs to ease you into it, he doesn't want to overwhelm you.

“Si…” you sigh softly, blinking as you struggle not to float off and become drunk with pleasure. 

“I know, pretty,” he coos, kissing your cheek before leaning back on his heels, fastening the thrusts of his hips. 

You can’t keep quiet now, mouth falling open to let out the most precious sounds of pure pleasure. You’re staring at him with wide eyes, like he’s hung the moon and stars in the sky just for you. His cock fucking throbs at the look of wonder that crosses your face. He knows you’re getting close, can feel how tight you’re clamping around him and he can see how much you’re creaming around him – making a mess at the base of his cock and in the thatch of curls there. 

“You gonna cum?” he coos, grinning when you shake your head, “Of course you are. I can fuckin’ feel it, baby. Know you got one for me, go ahead. Cum on my cock real nice, c’mon.”

“C-Can’t,” you whimper. It’s too much. You’re so wet. It’s fucking messy but you feel yourself at that damn wall, hanging on a thread and waiting for euphoria to come but it doesn’t, “Please! Simon! Please, I-I can’t! Please, please, please…”

“Fuck,” his hisses when he hears you begging to cum on his cock, “Come on then, baby. You can do it. Just let it go, let me fuck it outta you.”

You toss your head back into the pillows as a sob is ripped from your chest. As if he can sense how much you’re struggling, he brings his thumb down to press against your clit. Your eyes fucking roll, only the whites of them visible. You clench down around him like a vice and it only takes a couple little swipes of his thumb for you to tumble over the edge. 

It feels unlike anything you could have ever imagined. Pleasure soars through you and your hearing cuts out. It feels like you lose control of your body, unable to do anything but thrash and twitch as he fucks you through it. You’re not sure if you would prefer him to stop or keep going because it’s all so fucking much that it hurts. 

You’re gushing around him, drenching his cock in sticky, creamy cum that drips in thick strings down his balls. Holy fuck.

It feels like hours that you’re speared on his cock, cumming and cumming before it finally leaves you and you collapse against the bed. You’re still twitching, entire body shivering until he finally slows his thrusts to soft little rolls of his hips. He takes his thumb off of your clit and you’re thankful because it was starting to become unpleasant. 

You swallow despite how dry your mouth is, eyes finally focusing on him. His brows are furrowed and his bottom lip is tucked into his mouth. Pretty, brown eyes are locked on you and you suddenly feel shy. 

Had he been watching you the whole time? You hoped you didn’t make any ugly faces or embarrassing noises. 

“Fuck,” he coos, seemingly sensing your shame, “That was a fuckin’ orgasm, love.”

You’re panting, you realize. And you’re tired. You’ve never felt more relaxed in your life. 

All you can think is that you’ve been missing out on that your whole life? Now you’re not sure you’ll be able to even live without it ever again. 

Simon’s hands cup under your knees and pin them to your chest. You gasp as he bends you as he sees fit. You’re limp, so completely drunk on the pleasure you just experienced that you simply let him. 

But you realize he’s even deeper like this – and it doesn’t hurt like it did before. He’s pressing against your back wall and it actually feels good. You feel so sensitive inside, like you can feel every twitch of his cock. 

He’s still languidly dragging his cock in and out of you. It’s a fucking mess between your legs, you’ve cum so fucking much that it’s everywhere. He’s never been covered like this before and it’s fucking hot. 

Your cum sticks between the two of you in little strings that break and reform every time his hips meet and leave yours. Your little clit is puffy and swollen from your orgasm and he wants to press his thumb against it again but he knows the poor little thing is much too sensitive still. 

Your legs flop uselessly as he fucks you, eases you past overstimulation until you’re sweetly cooing for him again. He takes that chance to fuck you properly again, intent on finding his own orgasm deep in your cunt. 

His heavy balls slap against your ass. He wants to cum. He plans to make himself cum like this, just using your pretty pussy. But then he sees your eyes widen again and your lips part almost curiously and his eyes narrow.

“You feel it again, huh, sweetheart?” he goads, shifting his weight on his knees so his hips are pressed even closer to yours. 

“C-Can’t,” you whisper, the same thing you had before. But it’s different now, “W-Won’t be able to, Si.”

“S that a challenge, love?” he teases, a crooked little smile on his face. You sleepily shake your head, “Hmm, I think I can fuck another one out of you. One orgasm won’t be enough, two is a good number for now. Until I train this little cunt to cum for me all night long.”

You whimper, reaching out the claw at his forearms where he pins your knees to your chest. You’re held so uselessly open, cunt completely vulnerable to his fat cock stuffing you full. His pelvis hits your clit in a way that makes the little bud tingle and your cunt clenches pathetically around him with every thrust he gives you. 

Sweet little ‘ah, ah, ah’s’ are punched from your lungs every time he sinks completely inside. He’s gripping your knees harshly, squeezing where he has a grip as his own orgasm starts to creep up on him but he’s going to give you another orgasm. He has to make you cum again, to see you lost in pleasure like that once more. He knows that will push him over the edge, give him what he needs. He wants to cum with you, fill you up while you’re in the throes of pure pleasure that only he has ever given you. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he gasps, fighting the feeling of his own eyes rolling back in favor of watching you. 

He loves the way you wear everything you feel on your face. From the looks of wonder when it feels really good to the little rolls of your eyes when he makes it hurt just a bit. It’s so cute. 

Makes him want to play around with that little part of you – be a little mean to you. 

“Cum,” he growls, fighting his own orgasm down, “Fuckin’ cum right now.”

“I can’t!” you wail, kicking against his hold on your knees, pressing down to spread you open even further. 

His hips slam against yours, loud slaps and slick noises of your gooey cunt filling his ears, “You can. You will. Cum, sweetheart. You better fuckin’ cum.”

But you shake your head. It’s so close, you can feel it. It’s creeping up on you and you want it so bad. You want to feel that pleasure again. But you’re not even sure you’re going to be able to cum again, it feels so much more sensitive than before. It’s too much. 

Simon bares his teeth, letting go of one of your legs to drift between your thighs. Your eyes widen, you think he’s going to rub it again – it’s so sensitive that you’re not sure you’ll be able to take it. 

But instead, he does something else.

You hear it before you feel it, a soft little slap followed by the feeling of being electrocuted. Simon watches you with lidded eyes to see how you react. Just like he expected, you wail and your body gives a mean twitch at the impact. 

So he does it again. 

And again. 

And again.

Not too hard, just enough for it to hurt a little bit. A sting against a terribly sensitive little bud. It’s mean – he’s mean. But he can’t fucking help it. 

He needs you to cum for him again.

“Cum,” he snarls, giving your clit another slap.

As if on command, it sends you over the edge. Your legs kick out and he has to abandon your clit to hold you down, pinning you harshly to the bed as he uses all his weight to fuck down into your spasming little cunt. You’re cumming so hard around him that you stop breathing. He hears the hitch of breath and doesn’t hear the exhale. All you do is lay there, cry for him and cum.

He finds his end just as violently, tossing his head back to moan into the room as cum erupts from his cock. His thrusts grow sloppy as he milks the orgasm out of himself, voice breaking as he whimpers from how fucking good it feels. 

Like no orgasm he’s ever experienced. It’s like he can’t stop cumming, filling you up so much that it oozes out from around his cock. 

You’re trembling underneath him when he finally comes down, tearfully gazing up at him with your mouth agape, struggling to catch your breath.

“N-No more,” you pathetically whimper, legs twitching from the aftershocks, “C-Can’t take anymore, Si.”

“Shh,” he shushes, letting your legs go so you can relax comfortably as he pulls his cock from your pussy.

It’s twitching and clenching sporadically, still coming down from your orgasm. It makes his cum drip out of your cunt, a mess that spreads to the already messy sheets. Your cum and his mix together to make a sticky, gooey mess that makes his mouth water. He wants to eat it up, stuff his tongue into your tight little hole and swallow it all down. 

But he can’t. Maybe next time, he vows.

His cock gives a valiant kick at the thought of getting to do this again. He sits on his heels, gazing at his messy cock as if softens. He feels dazed, almost drunk. 

Then he hears the softest little sniffle from you and his eyes snap up to your face to find your crumpled expression and tears falling down your face. You cover your face with your hands and earnestly begin to cry.

“Hey, it’s alright, love,” he coos, laying beside you to tuck you into his chest.

“I-I don’t know why I’m crying,” you sob, wrapping your arms around his waist as you cry into him. 

“It happens,” he assures, “It was a lot and you’re just a little overwhelmed s’all. Just let it out, baby.”

And you do, weakly sobbing into his chest until it feels like you can’t cry anymore. He holds you through it all, rubbing your back and cooing sweet nothings in your ear until you grow silent. 

“Alright, love?” he asks.

“S-Sorry, Si,” you sniffle, finally pulling out of the spot in his arms you were hiding in, “I-I don’t want you to think I didn’t want it or that it was bad. I just…”

He gives you a soft smile, leaning forward to kiss you. It’s short and sweet, “I don’t think that. Like I said, it happens. Sometimes people just cry after sex, nothin’ to worry about.”

“Are you sure?” you sniffle, wiping your cheeks dry when the tears finally stop.

“Positive,” he sits up, “Let’s get cleaned up, alright? We need to change the damn sheets, fuckin’ hell.”

You giggle as you look down at the sheets where a very visible dark spot is sitting where you once laid. You don’t even have time to be embarrassed before he’s swooping you off of the bed and escorting you to the bathroom.

It’s too small for both of you to fit but you make it work. He wipes you down with a warm cloth before hopping into the shower to rinse and clean himself before he gets out and lets you do the same. While you do that, he changes the bedding completely and replaces it with new sheets and blankets for the two of you to sleep in together. 

When you finally stumble into the bedroom, he wraps his arms around you and urges you onto the bed. You giggle as you flop onto the bed before he crawls in after you and covers the both of you up, wrapping himself around you until you’re tucked securely against him. 

“I take it you liked it?” he finally whispers.

You shyly nod, “I-It was um…fun.”

“Felt real good, huh?” he teases, grinning wolfishly when you whimper.

“Y-Yeah,” you whisper, “It felt really good. I already want to do it again.”

Simon groans, hugging you tightly before shaking his head, “You’re gonna be insatiable. Gonna give my cock a run for its money.”

You giggle, affectionately petting his hair before he looks at you with the softest expression you’ve ever seen. It’s like his eyes are sparkling in the low light of the bedroom. He leans forward and ever so softly kisses your forehead, then your nose, before he reaches your lips. He pecks them softly, pulling back for just a second before he kisses you again. 

“I love you,” he whispers, so soft that you almost miss it. 

And your heart begins to race. You almost struggle to find the words to reciprocate. But when you do, he smiles and tucks you against him again, big arms wrapped around you like a bear hug.

It’s almost surreal. You can’t believe you’re here after everything – with him. 

Like you’ve dreamed your whole life, he loves you just like you love him. 

PART ONE.

do not modify, translate, or repost

[draftbeerbibi]

FOR ME, IT WILL ALWAYS BE YOU - Sylus x Non MC!

Summery: you find yourself in lads universe after a particularly close interaction with truck kun. How does life go from here after arriving in the N109 zone leaders backyard when MC hasn’t arrived yet?

Disclaimer, Sylus might be OOC, since i’m not very good at writing so bear with me. This will be multiple parts! Also, this was not proofread, so sorry if there are mistakes!

Masterlist

It wasn’t supposed to go like this.

These past few months you had been working yourself to the absolute bone. Summer had started and the restaurant you worked at was packed every single day.

You worked hard to keep your smile on your face, but there had been an increase of the rudest people to ever grace the planet, and they all simultaneously decided to grace you with their presence.

Every single day was a battle. You didn’t feel like you fit in anymore, colleagues living their lives, while yours felt like it was stuck in place. Every day was the same shit over and over again.

And then it happened.

You were on your way home from a particularly difficult shift, anticipating flopping on the couch to unwind with some love and deepspace. A game you had been playing for over a year now, making everything doable, when out of the blue a truck slams into you at full speed.

You feel all the air get blown out of you, as bones break. You hear people screaming, yelling for an ambulance.

This is it?

After all your hard work, this is how you die?

You scoff as unconsciousness pulls at you.

You awake with a jolt. Artificial grass prickles at your skin as you take in your surroundings.

“Am i dead?” You mumble, looking around in shock. No hospital lights. No pain. No nothing. You’re about to stand up when you feel something around your waist. It tightens as it spins you around hard. A sharp hiss of pain slips out as you are turned to someone.

“Who are you, and how did you get in?” The voice sends a shiver down your spine, as you recognise it immediatly.

Sylus.

How could you not recognise him? You had spent everyday after work with him. Interacting with him in destiny cafe, praying for a day you might get to see him, even just for a second.

You stare at him blankly. How does one even explain this situation? Would he believe you? Why would he? Would you believe someone if they casually dropped that they were from a different universe?

Questions and answers course through your mind till you feel his evol tightening even more.

“I said, who are you, and how did you get in?” His voice was sharp and menacing. His eyes glowing a dark crimson, as the wind softly swayed his hair. He truly looked divine, even when shooting daggers at you with his gaze.

“I-i don’t know how i got here. One moment i was on my way home from work, and now i’m here.” You confess, fear tugging at your heartstrings. You had seen him on your phone screen countless of times, but absolutely nothing could have prepared you for how breathtaking this man was in real life.

His eyes narrowed as a mocking grin spread across his face.

“Right, i’m supposed to believe you just ‘happened’ to land in the most tightly secured backyard of the whole N109 zone.” He scoffed. His eyes roamed your body, his eyebrow slightly tilting as if contemplating. You didn’t look fit enough to pull off a stunt like this. Cuz ur not.

“Trust me, don’t you have camera’s here?” You plead, his evol still tight around your waist. You feel it prickling, almost like electricity. Uncomfortable.

He raises an eyebrow.

The twins emerge from behind him, and even with their masks on, you can feel their curiosity radiate off of every inch of them.

Without a word he steps in the house, with you still tightly bound in his evol. He gracefully steps into his office as he places you not so gently into a chair.

“I’m not really in the mood for ‘games’ right now, so i do truly hope you’re telling me the truth.” He cocks his brow at you as he settles into his chair. You can’t help but be mesmerised by the absolute power and control he radiates just from sitting down.

He knows what he’s doing. Always. Even the smallest things are thought out before they can happen. You look at his face as he checks the footage, and to his surprise which he manages to hide very quickly, you were telling the truth. One moment the backyard looks peaceful, unperturbed, and the next, you’re there. It happens in the blink of an eye. No lights, no fireworks, nothing. Just sudden existence.

He looks at you, almost through you as he contemplates.

"It seems like you were telling the truth, kitten" The way he enunciates the word kitten sends goosebumps flying over your arms. The timbre in his low voice echoes through his office. How on earth were you going to survive this?

"I told you, i mean, who would be foolish enough to break into your territory?" You all but scoff. It's true though. Breaking into his lair, which in and off itself is impossible, would be a death sentence. Sylus was soft and mellow with MC in the game, but he never extended his kindness to anyone else.

It's a war in your head. At least your innocence is proven, but what about the rest? With nowhere to stay, how were you going to convince big bad boss man to keep you alive long enough to look for a way back. Could you even go back? Are you dead in your world?

His voice snaps you out of the war going on in your head.

"Explain"

"Huh?" You look at him sheepishly.

"Explain how you ended up in my backyard. I don't sense that you have an evol, or, anything for that matter, so how on earth did you get here?" His eye softly glows in the dim office. His features sharp, as the moon accentuates every line. Divine.

"Like i said, i was on my way home from work when-" The thought of the truck stops you dead in your tracks. The feeling of your bones crushing and consiousness fading still lingering beneath your flesh.

"When i got in an 'accident', i guess." Your voice got softer with each passing word. It was hard to make sense of what was happening. Though it was a literal answered prayer to be face to face with Sylus, the circumstances were far from ideal.

"Accident?" You could hear the amusement in his tone, he was intrigued. However, the thought of going into the details made you want to throw up, so you decide to change the subject.

"Could i stay here?" You blurt out the question, wincing at the lack of thought. All you could think about was needing a place to stay, but you didn't mean to throw it out there so haphazardly.

He raises his eyebrow, a small smirk appears, so small anyone would have missed it. But not you. You have spent so much time with him, he basically felt like you knew him better then yourself.

"Hmm? Bold aren't we, kitten?" All you can do is stare at him, what else are you supposed to do? You were literally throwing yourself in the dragons lions den.

"Here's an idea, you can work for me, i'll give you a spare bedroom in the eastern wing, close to the twins. If i do manage to find anything on you though, you can count your days."

Your mouth is agape. It's that easy? Suspicion creeps up, how could it not? You knew Sylus, and you also knew you were not MC. What was in this for him? But you were bone dead tired. This whole ordeal had sucked every last ounce out of you, and against better judgement, you nod in agreement.

He smirks.

The sight of him looking all pleased sends a shiver down your spine. Excitement? Fear? Both? Who knows. All you knew, was that you were going to do everything you could to prove your worth.

~~~

Part 2!

[yunzyoi]

𝐓𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐃𝐚𝐦𝐧 𝐍𝐨𝐬𝐞 (s.jy)

[NSFW] That Damn Nose [Pt. 3] - jake x f!reader

𓂃۶ৎ [ 제이크] You were just trying to survive the last High School year. Just trying to get your shit together, trying be ready to be an adult. But you had one single distraction. Jake Sim, your math teacher.

٠࣪⭑ cw/tags: smut, soft!dom math teacher jake and sub f!reader student. plot?, porn, age gap (just two years), dirty talk, phone sex, recording, fingering, masturbation, face riding, pussy eating, squirting, public, mdni. don't read if uncomfortable.

٠࣪⭑ wc: 3.08k

You had a huge crush on your math professor since the year started. But what would you do if he felt the same attraction? ᯓ★

୨ৎ

You moan softly against your hand, eyes rolling to the back of your head. Jake works his tongue on you from behind. He moans against your pussy. You had waited 'til the end of his period to ask him a question about the class but instead you got bent over his desk with his face buried in your pussy. It had been like this all week. Every day, after his period, in his classroom, he'd eat you out, every time better than the last one. Sometimes you would suck him off. Mostly, he'd prefer to have you on his face. You rock your hips back against his face and he chuckles.

"Mmh, like that, baby" He murmurs behind you as you grab the edge of the table and whine softly.

"I'm close—"

"Good" He says while his fingers press on your clit for more pleasure. You moan again. "Quiet"

You try, you really try but when the knot in your stomach explodes and your orgasm hits. You only see stars. Jake cleans you up with his tongue, helping you ride your orgasm. Once your breathe calms down, he kisses you ass cheek and bites it softly.

"God you taste so damn good, I could do it all day" He murmurs standing up to help you get off the table. He kisses your neck from behind and sits down on his chair with you on his lap. "You okay?

You nod leaning back against his body, resting your head back against his shoulder. He looks down and his cock throbs in his pants at the view of you looking so spent. You whine softly when he caresses your body. "What was that question you had about class?" He asks gently with a soft smile that only makes you blush intensely. You whine again, softly, sweetly, nuzzling his neck a little.

"The theorem" You murmur, his scent making you feel drunk. "It's so hard" You say again, all lost in the aftermath of your orgasm.

Jake chuckles, his hands holding you against him. "Oh look at you, so cuddly" He murmurs. "You liked it that much, princess?" And you nod, no shame. "Thought so"

Jake feels like he could die. Having you in his arms makes him feel all fuzzy and at the same time in so much power. You're all spread, sitting on his lap, nuzzling his neck, talking nonsense, all wet and sticky from your orgasm, a complete mess. And he knows it's because of him. He knows he did this to you. He knows you're like this only for him. And it drives him crazy.

"Jake?" You say softly seeing how he got lost in his thoughts. He snaps back quickly. "Will you explain it to me?"

Jake looks down at his wrist and frowns. "Oh, angel, I wish I could, but look, it got so late" He says looking down at you. "I'm so sorry darling"

"But the exam is tomorrow" You say, sitting straight, a little scared. "I asked you—"

"It's not that I don't want to, princess" He says. "I just cannot keep you here for longer, they'll notice you're missing" He sighs and removes some hair from your face. "Let's do something..."

"What" You look at him, waiting, nervous, you need to pass that exam.

"Later today, I'll call you, okay? And we can have like an online review of the exam" He says and right now he just sounds like any other teacher, if we forget that you're half-naked on his lap, of course. "You okay with that?"

You nod quickly, agreeing with him for an online review. You had no idea how you'd handle having his voice on your ear for that long without getting your panties off your body but all you needed to do was pass that exam with good grades because you got a B on the last exam and your mom was mad.

୨ৎ

You felt like a total mess. It was infurating, frustrating but at the same time, so hot the way Jake turned you on. He didn't even have to do anything, just his mere existence made your legs shake and your pussy throb with need. The fact that now you get eaten out by him on a daily basis doesn't help. You shake slightly, sweat all over you, hand between your legs. Yes, again, you were just touching yourself for him. Thinking about how he gets hard for you, about the times you've touched him, about the way his nose runs down your pussy. "Jake" You whine softly, bedding wet again, fingers deep inside you. You wanted more, more than just a head on a tuesday afternoon in his classroom. You wanted to have him inside you.

Every time you saw him get hard, every time you took his cock in your hands to pleasure him with your mouth you could only think about how he'd feel inside you. How he'd stretch you out, push deep, hit that spot that you can't reach. Your mind only raises with more and more thoughts. Jake balls deep into you, kisses all over you because you know he's so fucking gentle with you. Pretty pet names and praises coming out his lips while he absolutely destroys you.

Your phone rings, eyes open abruptly, the ringtone disturbing your fantasy, interrupting the perfect rythm your fingers had. You reach for it to turn down whoever is calling. You weren't expecting the name that showed up on the screen. And then it's like your brain shifts. The online review. Fuck. You remove your fingers from your pussy and pick up, still twitching with need in your bed, not knowing what to do but desperate to hear his voice.

"Hey, angel" He says softly, enough to make you gasp and squeeze your thighs together. "You okay?" He chuckles. If he knew.

"Y-yeah..." You say softly, trying to sit down but he speaks again and it only makes your head spin, falling back again, legs squeezing and moving.

"So, just calling to let you know we can start whenever you want, we'll do a little facetime so you can have a better visual of what I'll—" He stops, he knows something's off, you're too easy to read even on call. "Sweetheart are you there?" He asks.

Your heart beating like it's running marathon at the new petname. He was being so fucking sweet with you while you were here, spread out in your bed and fighting the urge to moan and touch yourself while he speaks in your ear. He called in such an unfortunate moment. Right when you were imagining his dick buried in you.

"Yes" you say, breathy. He notices immediately. "Just woke up" You lie, and he knows it.

"Just woke up?" He says, sweet, but he's smirking, like he knows and continues talking, waiting for the right second where you fall apart for him. "Oh, darling, I'm so sorry to hear that I woke you up" He says, faking this time. "If you want I can call later, maybe?

"No." You quickly say, way too fast. Like you're possessed. "Please" And there it is, falling apart.

Jake's cock throbs at your trembling voice. "Oh?" He reacts immediately. He knew that "please" wasn't you asking him to explain you that theorem. "You want me to stay, baby?"

You nod, forgetting he can't see you and then you manage to talk again. "Yes"

"I'll stay, darling" He says softly, knowing exactly what he's doing. "Do you want me talk to you, mmh?" He says, teasing, waiting to see how you'll confess what you so clearly were doing.

"Yes" You whisper, weakly, oh you were slowly falling apart. You couldn't help it, it was so easy to melt to his voice.

"How adorable, did i catch you doing something?" He asks, your heartbeat quickening, hands fisting the phone and the bedsheet, still fighting the urge to bury your hand in between your legs.

"Jake—" You try to speak, but you're almost shaking.

"Of course I did, your voice is telling me everything about it." He chuckles biting his lips. "Were you thinking of me, baby? Thinking of what I do to you every day? What I still haven't done to you?"

You moan, unable to hold back anymore. back arching off the bed.

"Talk to me darling, tell me what you want" He says softly, filthy in some way.

"Jake I—" You gasp softly. "I want you" You confess. Not like he didn't know that. "I can't do this" You continue, weak, vulnerable.

"You want me?" He asks teasingly.

"Oh yes" you whine like you're in pain from not having him.

Jake chuckles, his cock already hard in his pants. He bites his lips, thoughts immediately raising. "What are you wearing, baby?"

Your heart skips a beat when he asks that and you feel embarrassed to even answer it. "Just a shirt"

Jake almost goes into cardiac arrest at the though of you almost naked. "In bed?" You nod and hum. He smiles, finding you adorable. "Jesus christ" He whispers. "You sound desperate, what a mess" He chuckles, his hand eager to touch himself. "I bet you're soaked" You moan softly. "Yes, you are"

"Jake— Jake please" You say, not really knowing what you're begging for exactly.

"Yes darling? What do you want me to do?" He asks softly again, his hand slowly moving to his growing cock. "Want me to help, mmh?

"Oh God, yes, please" You moan gripping the sheets.

"Oh baby, why are you torturing yourself, go ahead and keep touching yourself for me" The second he gives you permission your hand is buried in between your thighs again. Fingers searching for your clit and a curse escaping your lips. "I'll guide you, baby, don't worry"

Fuck, he'll guide you. That's all there is in your mind right now. Your back arches off the bed.

"How wet are you?" He asks. It was impressive how sweet his tone always sounded compared to the filthy words he said.

"So wet, Jake, I can't—" He smiles at how overwhelmed you sound.

"Shhh, easy, just listen to my voice" He says and smirks at your whiny voice. "I want you to get your pretty fingers soaked in your own juices, then spread it around"

You moan at how dirty he sounded and immediately do as he asks. Your fingers already soaked and spreading the wetness around your pussy and even your inner thighs. Jake was loving it even though he couldn't see it.

"That's it baby, now find your clit and and give it some touches for me. Imagine it's my fingers doing it for you, do it like you know I would" He orders carefully. You're so desperate that you can't wait until he's done and your fingers are already working your clit.

You were so desperate that your clit was already swollen and so, so sensitive. You arch your back. "Jake..." You whine and he chuckles.

"Good girl" He whispers palming his cock through the fabric of his pants. "Now slide them down baby, I want those fingers sliding down your folds"

It was so dirty that you were sure you were getting way wetter at his words. You do as he says, fingers slippery and sticky sliding down. Up and down while he keeps talking. Praising.

"You like that, baby? When I tell you you're doing good?" You moan and nod desperately. He knows you're probably nodding and chuckles. "Words, love"

"Oh God, yes, please tell me I'm good"

He chuckles at your desperation, never in his life has he met anyone so desperate for him. "You're such a mess for me. You'd do anything for me to praise you, huh?"

"Yes" You say breathy and whimpery almost immediately.

Jake nearly moans at your response his hands quickly reaching his pants, undoing them and pulling out his cock. "Fuck" He whispers. "You're gonna regret saying that later" He leans his head back. "Just keep touching yourself for me, okay?"

You keep going, faster, whining loudly.

"Slide your fingers in for me" Jake orders, breathy, his hand moving up and down on his cock.

You arch your back when you do it. You're so fucking wet that your fingers go in easily. You're sure that you could fit another finger but for now, two is fine. Your hand moves fast, Jake's groans on the other side of the line pushing you closer.

"That's it, baby, just like that, such a good girl" He whisper and moans, unable to hold it. "Oh God, I wish I was there with you" He says out of breath, whimpery. "Fuck, baby, I'd make you feel so good" His hand moves relentless, up and down, squeezing, imagining it's your pussy wrapped around it.

"Jake" You moan, pussy making the dirtiest noises. "Jake, I'm gonna cum" You warn.

"Wait a little, darling, until I tell you, can you do that for me? I know you can do it" He says lost in his pleasure.

You moan in response slowing down to delay your orgasm until he tells you. All because you wanna be good and get praised.

Jake moves his hand, whimpering almost in your ear. "Fuck, baby, I want to fuck you so badly" He confesses making you arch your back and see stars. "You have no idea how much I'm holding back every time I see you"

You moan at his words. You wanna ask him why is he holding back. You've had plenty of opportunities this week yet he didn't take them. However he interrupts you.

"Fuck, I'm so close" He whispers. "Cum with me, princess"

You start moving your fingers faster again, synchronizing with him. Both of you moan and gasp and finally the orgasms hit, almost at the same time.

"Oh fuck" You hear him say. "Oh—Oh...Jesus"

୨ৎ

You set your phone on your desk biting your lip, cam app open. Your eyes sharp and your door locked. A knot in your throat from how nervous you are. You've never done this. You've always been quite reserved, never even took a single nude in your life. But lord, Jake. Jake's existence just hits you like a train at high speed. He's just that man that drives you insane. That man that makes you forget all your values. You'd do anything for him. You know for sure since the first time he ate you out two weeks ago, that exact moment is what convinced you: You'd do anything for him and more just to get his attention and specially, his praises.

After having sex through the phone with Jake last week, you and him have been texting a lot, not just sexual, but also just casual. He's always sweet, attentive and he helps you with homework. He never tells you the answers but he loves to help. He's a funny guy too and he likes to overshare about himself. He's always askinghow your day is going, how are you, if you ate. His attention makes your heart flutter.

Phone sex also happened again, and again, and again. And yesterday, after you two finished, he asked you to make a little video for him. This is probably what he meant when he said you'd regret saying you'd do anything for him just to get praised. The thing is, you don't. You don't regret it, you don't even feel shameful.

You press record and lean back, laying in your bed, legs open, completely naked. Your fingers sliding down to your tits, squeezing them, your mind easily creating the fantasies you so like to have about Jake when you touch yourself. Your hand slide lower, reaching your pussy, wet already. The single though of recording yourself for him was arousing and had you turned on all day.

You hiss at the sensation of your fingers on your clit and moan once you start moving them in tight circles. "Jake—" You moan softly, his name coming out so easily, like your lips were always meant to say that single word.

You slide your fingers up and down on your wet folds, so sticky and messy. You bring your fingers up to your face and make direct eye contact with your phone as you take them in your mouth, sucking, and then down again, placing them at your entrance. A silent moan reflected in your face when your dig your fingers in. Jake was gonna lose it, you knew it. Your fingers start moving in and out, everything on a perfect angle for the camera to capture.

You moan, feels good and the thought that Jake will watch it later and probably get off to it only pushes you closer. You moan again, your fingers desperate to reach deeper and deeper, Not quite giving you the same pleasure his fingers or mouth give you but close to make your pussy sound beautifully disgusting. You can feel yourself getting wetter, you can hear it. Your fingers are soaked, making you whine his name over and over again while shaking. You feel the stickiness spread to your inner thighs and before you know it, your hips lift off the bed and you squirt all over yourself and the bedsheets as your orgasm hits.

୨ৎ

3:30 a.m [Voice Note] Mr. Sim: "God I just came three times to that video, you looked so sexy, baby, you did so good. I swear, you're a fucking goddess."

You blush at his voice note. His voice is sleepy, tired, spent. He clearly sent that audio immediately after cuming and it just made you blush even more. And his accent behind every word only made you fantasize again.

3:34 a.m [Text] You: Really? It was messy...

3:35 a.m [Text] Mr. Sim: You did amazing

3:35 a.m [Text] Mr. Sim: The perfect mess for me

You bite your lip and smirk, feeling proud of yourself for doing it. Not a single piece of regret in your body, only that good feeling of doing something for the man you're so obsessed with and him prasing you for it.

3:38 a.m [Text] Mr. Sim: Bet you're smiling

3:38 a.m [Text] You: Nope

3:38 a.m [Text] Mr. Sim: Say no all you want but when I have you pressed against my desk you're saying yes to anything I say

His text almost turned you on again but you try to stay calm and think of an answer.

3:39 a.m [Text] Mr. Sim: Cute

3:39 a.m [Text] Mr. Sim: Nothing to say?

3:38 a.m [Text] You: 🙄

3:40 a.m [Text] Mr. Sim: You should sleep

3:40 a.m [Text] You: Okay

3:41 a.m [Text] You: Have a good night

3:41 a.m [Text] Mr. Sim: Good girl

3:42 a.m [Text] Mr. Sim: Sleep well :)

[Part 1] ₍^. .^₎⟆

[Part 2] ₍^. .^₎⟆

[Part 3] ₍^. .^₎⟆ - you're here ! (˶˃⤙˂˶)

[Prof Jake] ₍^. .^₎⟆

© yunzyoi 2025. all rights reserved.

[mindless-existence1]

Summery: Giving Shadow a little nose kiss and him getting hella flustered.

@luc1dw0rld

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The late afternoon sun filtered through the blinds of your apartment, casting warm stripes of light across the small living room. You sat cross-legged on the couch, Shadow beside you.

He was unusually talkative today, his low voice recounting something about his latest mission and how he had outmaneuvered his opponents.

You nodded along, genuinely interested, though you couldn’t help but notice how close he was sitting. Not that you minded—there was something calming about his presence.

“And that’s when I—” Shadow paused mid-sentence when he noticed your gaze fixed on him, your expression soft. “What?”

“Nothing,” you said quickly, suppressing a grin. “Keep going.” He narrowed his crimson eyes slightly but resumed his story, clearly trying to ignore your amused look.

You leaned a little closer, resting your elbow on the back of the couch and propping your head on your hand.

As he continued, you couldn’t resist the urge that had been bubbling up since you noticed how focused he looked. Without thinking much about it, you leaned in and brushed your nose lightly against his in a playful, gentle motion.

Shadow froze.

His eyes widened slightly, his words dying on his lips as he stared at you, completely still.

You pulled back just a little, unable to hide your smile. “It’s just a type of kiss people do sometimes,” you explained, your voice soft.

Shadow blinked, crimson eyes locked on yours, his expression torn between confusion and flustered disbelief. “...What?”

“Like a nose kiss,” you repeated, tilting your head. “It’s when you rub noses with someone. It’s supposed to be sweet.”

Before you could say anything else, Shadow let out a frustrated huff and leaned forward, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

His quills grazed your cheek lightly, but he didn’t pull away, staying there as if trying to shield himself from your gaze.

“You can’t just do shit like that,” he muttered, his voice low and muffled against your skin.

Your breath hitched in surprise, and a grin tugged at your lips as you raised a hand to rest gently against his shoulder. “Why not? You flustered?” You tease.

“...No,” he lied immediately, though the warmth radiating off his face said otherwise. You chuckled softly, your fingers lightly brushing over the fur on his back. “You’re really bad at hiding it, Shadow.”

“I’m not hiding anything,” he grumbled, but his head stayed tucked against your neck, his ear flicking slightly as if he was debating whether to move or stay put. “Well, for what it’s worth,” you said, your voice softer now, “I think it’s cute when you get flustered.”

Shadow let out a low, almost inaudible growl—not of anger, but of pure embarrassment. He finally pulled back just enough to glare at you, his face still tinted with the faintest blush.

“You’re insufferable,” he muttered, though the corners of his mouth twitched as if fighting back a smile. “And yet, here you are,” you teased, your grin widening.

He rolled his eyes but didn’t deny it. Instead, he leaned back against the couch, his shoulder brushing yours ever so slightly.

“Just… warn me next time,” he said gruffly, his gaze fixed on the wall like it was the most interesting thing in the room. “Where’s the fun in that?” you replied, earning another exasperated huff.

But despite his flustered protests, you couldn’t miss the way his body relaxed slightly, the lingering warmth between you speaking louder than any words could.

[marifilue]

I Gotcha Darlin'

Wordcount: 1k

Pairing: Logan Howlett x F!Reader

Warning/Tags: Angst, comfort, traumatized reader, established relationship.

Oneshot: Logan finding you sleeping after he got back from a mission

A/N: I just had a shitty day and I need to dump this

You were asleep, safe and sound when he came in to your shared room by the X-Mansion.

Logan saw the soft rise and fall of your breathing under the covers and let out a breath of his own. Finally, something steady in this goddamn chaotic world.

He stood there for a second longer than he meant to, just watching. There were burnt marks on his jacket, a smear of dried blood across his shoulder, but here—inside this room—it didn’t matter. The world outside could keep its madness. You were here. Breathing. Whole.

He tried to be quiet—unlacing his boots, setting his jacket on the chair, pressing a gentle kiss to your temple before heading for the shower. Another to your shoulder, just because. You didn’t stir.

Fifteen minutes. Hot water, scalding enough to sting even him. Just long enough to scrub away the blood, sweat, and dirt from the mission. A part of him never really came clean, but this helped. It always helped.

He stepped out with a towel slung low on his hips, steam trailing behind him as he pushed the bathroom door closed behind him—

SLAM.

It echoed sharp and sudden. The wood had caught against something on the tile, and when Logan gave it a firm tug, it snapped shut with a violent sound.

You jolted up like you’d been struck.

Logan turned, brows knitting. “Shit—sorry,” he muttered, voice low, guilty.

You were already awake. But not just awake—alert. Eyes wide, breathing shallow, heart pounding.

He walked toward the wardrobe, rubbing the back of his neck. “That old wood’s a pain in the ass,” he explained casually, pulling on a pair of boxers and a shirt. “Remind me to fix it in the morning.”

But you weren’t really listening. Not to his words, anyway. You watched him, curled under the blanket like it was armor.

"Are you okay?" you asked softly, voice shaky. Too shaky for a simple question.

Logan paused.

“Yeah,” he said, pulling the shirt over his head. “I’m fine, just the door—”

Then he heard it.

Your heartbeat.

Erratic. Spiking like fear. Like panic.

He turned his head slowly. There it was. Fear. And it wasn’t for him, it was because of him.

And god, that hurt.

You were sitting against the headboard now, arms wrapped around your knees, pulling them close under the blanket. Your eyes weren’t on him—they were somewhere else, distant. Somewhere far back.

“Oh,” you whispered, barely audible. “Okay.”

You shifted to lie down again, clearly trying to smooth it over. Pretend it didn’t happen. But Logan didn’t move. He just stood there, shirt half-on, staring at you like he was seeing something new.

Something fragile. Something broken in a place he hadn’t looked before.

“...You thought I was mad,” he said. Not a question. A realization.

You just lay back down, eyes heavy. Pulling the blanket up to your chin like it could hide the way your body still trembled underneath.

Logan stayed standing there for a while. Silent. Letting the seconds stretch. Giving you space.

You figured he’d leave it alone. Most men would.

But then the mattress dipped.

You felt the shift of his weight, the warmth of him as he slid in behind you under the covers. His arm came around your waist—slow, careful, like he was giving you every chance to move away.

You didn’t.

He tugged you closer, pressing his chest to your back, his breath warm near your neck. No questions. No pushing.

Just him.

“I will never hurt you,” he murmured, almost more to himself than to you. “Not ever.”

Your eyes burned again, but you blinked fast and said nothing.

He kissed your shoulder gently, right where he had a few minutes ago before the shower. Like he was taking the moment back and giving it new meaning. One of safety.

You finally whispered, “I know...”

His arms tightened just a little.

“I’m just... I was sleeping,” you said, like you were trying to convince yourself more than him. “And the noise taken me aback.”

“I get it,” he said, voice low, steady. “You don’t gotta explain it.”

But you did. Because if you didn’t now, you’d carry it like dead weight into every slammed door that followed.

“My dad used to slam the front door,” you said, barely louder than a breath. “One day, I misplaced his truck key and he slammed it so hard the window next to it cracked.”

Logan exhaled through his nose—sharp, controlled. His hand moved in slow circles over your side beneath the blanket.

“Sounds like he’s got problems,” he murmured.

You hesitated. “Yeah... I still can’t believe my mum put up with him all those years. Defended him even.”

A bitter laugh. “She said he was just tired. That I made it worse by not listening. I was nine.”

Logan didn’t speak. He just pulled you closer. Like maybe if he held on tight enough, he could keep the ghosts from reaching you tonight.

You could feel your muscles start to unwind—slowly, unsurely, like they didn’t quite believe it was safe yet.

Silence settled again. Comfortable, this time.

He didn’t fill it with words—he just held you tighter, like maybe he could squeeze the damage out of your bones if he stayed long enough.

After a while, your breathing evened out. You didn’t fall asleep right away, but you stopped looking over your shoulder. Stopped listening for the next sound to brace yourself against.

Logan pressed another kiss to the back of your neck, his voice barely audible in the quiet.

“I gotcha darlin'.”

Your hand found his beneath the blanket, fingers slipping between his and holding on. Like a promise.

Eventually, you drifted—not because you were tired, but because, for the first time you weren’t scared of what might happen in the silence after a slammed door.

[yukioos]

helloo i really like your write and i was thinking about Bakugou’s foreing gf from latin america, Brazil or another? And suddenly she says some expressions in her mother language like “katsuki, vem aqui!” (Katsuki, c’ mere) or even in text messages like “cadê você.” (where are u) and be gets so confused. And one day he randomly comes to reader and asks “could you say what the heck these thing means?” So reader explains some of them to him.

thanks!

having to explain your phrases to katsuki

in the common room, you were hanging out with some of the girls in one section, and the boys were separated in the other. they talked about their own interests as you talked about yours, engaging in gossip that mina heard from eijiro a couple of days ago. apparently, eijiro liked someone but was too scared to tell her, and kept it to himself until he eventually told mina.

when the girls found that out, they had the idea for you to ask katsuki because he and the redhead were best friends, even if he didn’t admit it. reluctantly, you agreed, but your boyfriend was amazing at keeping secrets. it was unlikely for him to tell you his best friend’s crush unless eijiro directly permitted him to.

so you shouted across the room, “katsuki, vem aquí!” and held your hands around your mouth.

the blonde immediately puckered up and turned his back from you to the boys in front of him. what the hell did you just say? he blankly stared at you until you made a ‘come here’ motion with your hands around, ushering him to get closer to you.

he sat on the couch next to you, where you sat criss-cross, then you laid your legs over his and placed your hand on his bicep, pulling him closer to you. he tried to hold back a smirk to no avail, and eventually gave up as you looked up at him with sweet eyes.

“hey, mina told me that eijiro likes someone. do you know who it is?” you asked, showing off a smile as the other girls giggled and watched the two of you talk.

he stayed silent for a minute before glancing away, then looking back at you. he leaned his face closer to yours and lowly spoke into your ear, “i know but i can’t tell anyone.”

once he pulled away, you whined and pouted, “katsukiiiii!”

you then leaned back and lightly kicked his thigh, when he gently grabbed your ankle and pulled you closer to him with ease. he whispered, “come to my room later and i’ll give you a few hints.”

a gasp left your mouth and you almost violently nodded, softly kicking your feet in excitement. he kissed your cheek then returned to his group, where he stayed quiet for most of the conversation.

but once the sky became dark, and your classmates began to yawn and even nod off, you decided it was time to go to bed. you didn’t see the blonde anywhere in the room, so you sent him a quick message.

katsuki lay on his bed, scrolling through his phone when he saw a text from you reading, ‘cadê você??????’ ‘katsukiiiii’ ‘answer me’ all within a couple of seconds. he scoffed, he didn’t even know what you meant by the first message. hopefully you would just follow him into your room once he picked you up. he grinned and laughed to himself before standing up and making his way to the common area, where he expected you to be.

after you waved to your friends goodbye, some of them still stayed in the common room, while others left to sleep, a warm hand suddenly engulfed yours. you rubbed the rough hand, quickly realizing it was katsuki’s. he dragged you to his room without a second thought and placed his hand on your back to guide you.

then you jumped onto your boyfriend’s soft bed and sprawled your limbs across it, you asked, “so, who does kirishima like?”

“you know her.” he stated, making your jaw drop.

“no fucking shit, katsuki! who the hell would he like that i don’t know of?!” you retorted, looking back at his muscular form and smirk on his face.

“that’s all you’re getting, whiny.” he took his shirt off and crawled into bed with you before asking, “what the hell were you even saying earlier?”

you turned to your lover and held eye contact before swinging your leg across his hip, “what d’ya mean?”

“you said it two times back in the lounge area then you texted me another one. the first one was… vem something, and,” he pulled his phone from out of his pocket and scrolled up in your chats, holding one of your messages, “this one.” it read cadê você.

you chuckled, “kats, i thought you already knew what those meant! you always did exactly what i told you to!” he had a scowl on his face and placed his hand on your stomach, trying to hide his face without seeming shy. “the first thing i said was vem aquí. i’ll confess, i got a bit agitated when you didn’t come over to me immediately.”

he guessed, “so it means ‘come here’?”

“oh, yes, good job, my boy!” you coddled him and placed his face in your hands, making him grunt and fake fight back, although he secretly loved it. of course, he would never admit it. “the second one means ‘where are you?’. that may have been a little more difficult for you though.”

he grumbled and turned his back to you, “whatever.”

you giggled and wrapped your arms and legs around him and stated, “eu te amo,” then grinned into his hair.

“what does that one mean?” he mumbled, sleep evident in his voice.

“it means i love you.”

he let out a small, “tch,” before turning back around and placing his face in the crook of your neck, trying to hide the blush that was forming on his face. he kissed your neck three times, his own way of saying, ‘i love you.’

this was super fun to make, i hope you like it! hope i got the last translation right, too! im so glad you like my writing btw ❤️

[savagebite]

Breaking up with the toxic cod men

Tw: forced feminization, Gn!reader, manipulation, non con, toxic dynamics, blackmail, threatening murder, guns, and etc. Dead dove do not eat. price uses the term “wife” on reader in a forcibly feminized way. Posted this at 5 in the morning so this might be horrible.

Price:

-Look at you! You finally stood up for yourself! Putting your foot down and telling him you don’t want to be in a relationship with him anymore because of how’s toxic he’s been.

-Remember how I said Price is a really big family guy? How he slowly turns you into his little housewife? Yeah well the wife doesn’t make the decisions in the relationship for him.

-Trys to scare you, throws your phone at the wall because it’s “filling your mind with stupid shit” and “your friends are plaguing your mind”

-Throws you in the shared bedroom and locks you in there until you apologize. When you do he does that cute little smile he does with a big ol’ hug.

Johnny/soap

-After finally realizing he’s literally drugging you and keeping you almost in a lobotomized mindset you tell him you’re done! that you refuse to keep dating him!

-Just straight up fucking ignores you.

-Refuses to acknowledge it, changes the conversation, or just walks away. Takes you so off guard you just give up after awhile.

-If you keep mentioning it he gets extremely annoyed. Will snap and yell at you, degrading you.

“You really think anyone will want you but me? You’re lucky to have me! Stop being a spoiled bitch and shut up”

Simon/ghost

-After a really bad night when he came home from the bar incredibly drunk,along with throwing a beer bottle at your head you finally get the courage to break up with him.

-He’s hung over as hell so you think he won’t have the energy to argue about it. You were sort of right. Instead he pulls out his phone and shows you the many videos he has of taking advantage of you while he was drunk.

-“How would my team like to see my stupid wife/husband getting their hole wrecked? How you’re begging to stop but so obviously wet? What then?”

Gaz:

-When you finally step up for yourself and try to break up with him after years of him manipulating you. Tired of him keeping you from your friends and missing the nights when you go out with friends.

-Flips out, immediately gets in your face and yells at you. Loams over you while slowly backing you into a wall, trapping you physically.

-“Oh so is there another guy? Huh? Felt to bad about cheating on me so you’re breaking up with me? You’re lucky to have me. Your ran through, so you really think anyone will love you like I do?”

-Somehow the day ends with you apologizing to him for being a bad partner while you cry in his lap. He softly caresses you while accepting it.

Makarov

-Somehow senses you slowly start to realize everything is waring off and his “Treat you like absolute shit and then immediately butter you up with love” tactic isn’t working.

-You don’t even say anything other than “we need to talk” before he throws you in a truck and drives you to some secluded place. Throwing you out and pinning you to the ground

-“You’re my wife. You’ve seen to much to be anything else, you either die right here right now or you stay my wife” 

Philip graves

-You finally realize he literally only sees you as a wife and not a person. He expects you to cook you dinner while doting on him when he comes home from work. He didn’t even ask if you wanted that.

-You sit him down and explain how you feel in which he apologizes so sweetly. Oh how stupid he was! He should have thought about you more! Give him one more chance?

-You cave in, giving him one more chance.

-That night he oh so gently wraps his hands around your body, erection pressing against your ass before covering your mouth and with little prep shoving it in. Growling in your ear how he owns you and your his.

-You hear his hand dig in his drawer, praying he was grabbing a condom but instead he pulls out his small revolver. Pressing it against your temple forcing you to agree to stay his partner.

-“You’re staying here, you’re not leaving understand? Unless you want your brains on the fucking sheets! You don’t? Good.”

[nghtwngs]

I need a bob fic where reader is part of the thunderbolts and they start to notice small things from their room going missing, panties, chapstick, food wrappers, etc. and one day they catch bob in the act and instead of finding it creepy they find it cute. Blah blah blah they end up fucking

18+ mdni, dark content, perv!bob reynolds x reader, vaginal fingering, implied masturbation (bob), panty stealing, no pronouns for reader, first time writing a dark fic so hopefully this isn’t completely shit haha…

“What the hell? Where is it?” You frantically search through your bag, gaining Ava’s attention.

“What is it?” she asks, peering over your shoulder.

“My favorite lip balm. Ugh, I already lost the last one I had, and it was like twenty dollars. No way I lose it twice.” You continue digging through your items to no avail, turning your head to look at her. “Right?”

She shrugs. “Maybe Alexei found it. He’s been obsessed with lip balms ever since he found out chapstick is pretty much useless. But I think your real problem is that you’re buying twenty dollar lip balm in the first place.”

“Well, I don’t have a lot of nice products…” You sigh, nearly giving up after already an hour of rummaging through all of your stuff. “That one is just the one thing I like to splurge on a little.” You huff, crossing your arms. “It’s like something is eating up all my stuff. I lost a sock the other day too. It might just be that dumb, loud washing machine Valentina refuses to replace. I think she’s just keeping it there to spite us.”

“That thing is annoying,” Ava says, “but I’ve never lost anything before. I don’t remember anyone else complaining about having lost something either. Well, except that one time two weeks ago when Alexei lost his sunglasses, and we were making bets on how long it would take him to realize they were sitting on his head.”

“Ugh, I was really so close on that one too.”

He doesn’t hear you when you arrive just outside your bedroom door or when you’re twisting the knob to let yourself in. But he does hear the shock in your sweet voice when you try to ask him, so utterly confused as to why he’d be standing in your room, “Bob? What are you…”

His hand is still deep inside the drawer where you keep all your underwear—and suddenly, it’s like everything magically clicks into place. You should probably go apologize to that dumb washing machine for falsely accusing it of theft when the real thief is right in front of you, his cheeks blushing furiously.

Bob removes his hand from your dresser, hiding it behind his back like a child caught red-handed. “I can explain—“

“—What exactly?” you ask, scoffing as you cross your arms. “That you’ve been stealing all my shit like a pervert? You could’ve just asked, you know. Were you too shy to?”

“I…” He gulps, still burning with red-hot embarrassment as he says softly, “I’m sorry.”

“You steal my sock too?” You cock your head, an cruel grin growing on your face. “What could you have possibly done with that, huh?” You step closer towards Bob, glancing down at your panty collection. “Which one were you looking for? Or were you just pursuing?”

“The… the thin, light pink ones,” he softly answers, unable to meet your eyes. “I saw them when you were doing laundry the other week…”

“You won’t find them in there.”

You hum quietly, gently grabbing the hand that had been stuck deep in your underwear drawer and guiding it towards the waistband of your tiny skirt. Bob glances up at you, and you nod slightly. Rather than lifting the fabric up, he tentatively tugs it down to glimpse at the panties you currently had on—blush pink, the pair that had him fucking your sock just two weeks ago, imagining it was you.

It’s not long before Bob has you sat in front of him on the foot of your mattress, fingers pushing in and out of your drooling cunt in a steady rhythm. His other hand paws at your chest, thumb, wet from your saliva, swirling around your hardened nipple. When his fingers find that one spot that makes your thighs twitch and your walls clench, he lets out a breathy sound of pride. The hand that had been playing with your breast moves up to your whimpering mouth, fingertips pressing against your plush lips before gliding inside.

You’d already imagined something like this before, but your imagination pales in comparison to whatever this is. His fingers are stuffed so tightly inside you that your spit begins to spill out and drip down the two fingers he’s got in your mouth. A sad, little whine escapes your throat when he pulls his fingers out of you, beginning to circle the pad of his middle finger around your wet hole. He uses more pressure, pressing it into your clenching flesh without ever pushing it back inside, eliciting more gasps from you as you beg him for more.

“B-bob,” you call his name once his fingers glide out of your mouth, whining.

You feel way too empty, but you know you’re in no position to be making demands with the way he’s got you spread out like this. The part of your brain that’s completely melted from him fingering you pleads otherwise, however.

“Hm?” He’s really not trying to tease you, but he can’t help but make you wait a little. Seeing you all needy like this for just his fingers is doing wonders for his ego. And his cock.

“I need you.”

“Need what?”

“To… make me come…” you mutter under your breath before adding on for good measure, “Please.”

“You’re so sweet,” he coos, the pads of his middle and index fingers easily finding your clit, marveling at how wet you’ve become.

Your pretty folds are drooling down your sheets, but you probably won’t mind. He’ll volunteer to wash your bedsheets if you’ll keep letting him fuck you like this. You’re squeezing around nothing, one of your hands clutching the forearm of the hand he’s got wrapped around your thigh, keeping you open for him. He hadn’t even bothered to remove your underwear earlier, only sliding it to the side and away from your slit. The pink fabric now a darker shade from your own arousal.

Bob starts to feel your peak approaching once he’s slid his fingers back inside you to give you some relief. He can’t help it when he’s got the prettiest thing moaning his name like that. Your sounds of pleasure continue to grow louder, and he feels your cunt grow tighter around his hand. He picks up the pace, quickly pistoning his fingers inside your spasming walls to help you reach your high.

“I’m—Bob, I’m gonna cum—“ With another cry of his name, your orgasm washes over you, drawn out by the continuous force of his fingers fucking you, palm meeting your clit with delicious pressure.

You let out a string of breathless curses, limp in his embrace. He kisses up your neck to your temple sweetly. Another serene moment passes before you mumble, “Do you have my black pair of underwear? I wanted to wear it today. Couldn’t find it.”

“Maybe…” he replies in a sheepish tone, plucking at the waistband of your pink panties. “But I’m glad you didn’t.”

“And my sock?”

“You probably don’t want it back…”

[kisapmta]

amateur | c. sturniolo

masterlist

summary: back in LA, nick and chris, your long distance boyfriend, stumble upon a silly little vlog you left them from boston.

pairing: christopher sturniolo x fem!reader

warnings: just some cutesy fluff

notes: ahh hi everyone this is my first ever fic! i’m kinda nervous but also really excited, pls let me know what u think <3

word count: 800

—

It’s late Thursday night, and Nick is buried in editing their upcoming Friday vlog. This week’s video compiles the boys’ most recent trip back home to Boston. While scrubbing through the raw footage, he stumbles upon an unexpected clip—one clearly not meant for the final cut.

The video begins with you holding the camera, your voice uncertain as you fiddle with the buttons. “Uh… I don’t even know if this is recording properly,” you say, the shot capturing nothing but your slightly out-of-focus bedroom. The camera wobbles a little before the clip abruptly ends. Nick smiles, calling over his brother. “Chris, come look at this.”

Chris gets up from his seat at the dining table, curiosity pulling him towards his brother in the living room. He settles beside Nick on the couch before the next clip plays. This time, your face appears on the screen as you hold the camera an arms length away. “Good morning guys—Oh my god this quality is insane I can see every single one of my pores,” you mutter, leaning in closer to examine your skin on the tiny viewfinder. After a second, you abruptly flash a peace sign and pucker your lips, before laughing at yourself. “Ew, Nick please leave this out.”

Chris can’t help but smile, his chest tightening with an overwhelming fondness at the sight of you. The soft Boston sunrise filters through the open blinds, washing your room in a warm, golden light. Sunbeams stream gently from behind you, casting a soft halo around your face. You’ve clearly just woken up—your voice is still heavy with sleep, your hair tousled, and your eyes half-closed. But even through the screen, despite it all, you have Chris completely captivated.

The video continues into your makeshift vlog, where you update the camera on your plans for the day—attending a 10am lecture followed by a three-hour lab that starts at 1pm. Halfway through, you get sidetracked by a story from last week’s lab, laughing as you recount how your friend accidentally burnt her eyelash extensions from holding the Bunsen burner too close to her face.

Chris already heard this story the day it initially happened, but he could listen to you tell it a hundred times again. Watching the way your eyes literally smile before the rest of your face follows, and hearing the sweetest sound of your laughter—he could never get tired of it.

The clip stretches on for nearly six minutes as you get distracted by all the little things you suddenly remember you want to share. Finally, you circle back to the reason you’re filming in the first place—explaining how you found the camera in your purse while searching for your wallet to put in your backpack.

“Chris, you must have forgotten it in my purse when you dropped me off yesterday, but I’ll just give it to you guys when I see you later. But yeah… how was your guys’ day?” you ask, fully leaning into the content creator persona. It takes a second of realization before you cringe, your nose scrunching with visible embarrassment as you cover your eyes with your free hand. “I’m literally talking to this camera like it’s gonna answer me. This is so weird, I don’t know how you guys do this.”

Chris lets out a soft laugh, finding your awkward struggle for something that’s second nature to him so endearing.

You sigh softly and glance off-screen. “God I really hope that all recor—oh shit, ‘battery low, please connect to power’,” you read off the viewfinder. “Oh I think it’s gonna die soon. Okay, bye guys! Chris, bye baby! Love you, please text me if you saw this!”

You obnoxiously pucker your lips, leaning in to kiss the lens with a dramatic smooching sound, but just before it lands, the camera cuts off as the battery gives out. Chris stares at the screen, his heart swelling so big in his chest it feels like it would explode.

Nick nudges him, giggling. “Dude, she’s so bad at this.”

“Shut up,” Chris says, biting back a smile. “Send me those.”

Nick glances at his brother as he airdrops him the clips and teases. “Wipe that stupid grin off your face, you look like an idiot.”

But Chris doesn’t hear him. Instead he immediately screenshots the last frame—a blurry but perfect shot of your goofy kiss. Without hesitation, he sets the photo as his new wallpaper, then finds your contact.

Baby: You should start a channel baby

Baby: Gotta teach you more about the camera though haha this vid was a little ridiculous

He sends the screenshot he took.

Baby: This was cute though

Baby: You’re beautiful

Baby: Love you❤️

Baby: Miss you

He sends the last message, knowing you’re back in Boston and likely asleep by now. Still, he can’t help but smile at his phone, already counting down the days until he can see you again. 

—

a/n: hi guyss :) this was just something quick i thought of, inspired by a clip from the boys’ vlog i came across the other day where madi was randomly filming their dining table or something lol. pls let me know what u think ahhh this was so fun!!!