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octaviasdread · 19 days ago

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Yummm hiii can I please get a classic burger for here, with onion rings and a margarita please?

Order #3

Now Serving!

Main Course: Charlie Dalton x FemReader

Ingredients: 18+, MDNI, smut, enemies to lovers, semi public sex, dirty talk, no use of protection, fluff, no use of y/n

Meal: Charlie smut, enemies to lovers, with semi public sex.

Total: $30.67 = 3k words

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You did not want to attend this party. It wasn’t that you didn’t enjoy parties or had something else going on. This party was specifically for poetry class students which meant your sworn enemy from the last semester was most definitely going to be an attendance. It boiled your blood that the accounting major student who had taken Poetry 101 for fun, was somehow always getting a better grade than you as an actual Literature Major. After a while it became less about the poetry and more about finally getting the same or a higher grade than him. To think you had once thought of the class as fun and easy.

Yet your roommate Emily dragged you along anyway, after doing your hair and makeup, and forcing you in a dress tighter than you’d normally wear. It didn't stop you from stewing the whole way, arms crossed tightly over your chest and already daydreaming of the various liquors that infiltrated a punch bowl and would soon make this night somewhat bearable. If you were going to have to face the overbearing and cocky boy, at least you could do it with a stimulant of some kind.

“Wow, who knew the literature students could be this fun,” Emily says the second you spot the party. There are students everywhere, drinks in their hands, and music from a live band playing loudly from inside. It’s crazy to think these were the same students who enjoyed the same books as you and wrote essays for fun.

“I don’t see fun, at least not without a drink in my hand,” you tell her and she rolls her eyes before stomping towards the house, in search of the alcohol to get you to shut up.

You tag along, a little smug and side eyeing all the other students who were really letting loose before summer began. You might have been one of them if you didn’t immediately feel the hairs on your arms stick up from his presence. Half hung over a girl on the couch in the living room, a black beret on his head, and a smug smile on his face, was none other than Charlie Dalton, the bane of your existence and cockiest boy to ever exist. You wished you could rip the damn thing off his head and chuck it across the room.

“Here, drink this and shut up,” your roommate says as she returns to your side, handing you a cup with a liquid a shade of red you’d never seen before. Your eyes never leave the boy, watching him like he might attack if you look away for too long.

“God I wish someone would put him in his place,” you grumble, tipping the liquid down your throat and trying not to cough at the strong amount of alcohol that goes down.

“I think the only person who can do that is you,” she replies before stalking off, uninterested in your one sided beef. Charlie had participated in this little contest of yours, teasing you and returning every glare, but you had initiated it every time. What shocked you is how he never questioned your hatred or rivalry but instead participated as if it was some fun game.

After a few hours and a few more drinks your hips start to sway to the live band a little, letting the enjoyment of a carefree and fun night finally seep in. A part of you was still hyper aware the chestnut haired boy was loitering somewhere around the party, probably attached to his third girl of the night, but you could finally accept the semester was over. You had passed and had made it one more year closer to your degree. It was something worth celebrating whether the presence of the boy bothered you or not.

“Looking good,” Levi, one of your classmates calls, spotting the way you finally accept the party and a blush fills your cheeks. You’re not sure why you’re embarrassed, you had every right to have just as much fun as they all were.

“Thanks Levi!” you call back which only makes him grin and let out a hearty laugh from across the room.

“Hey I don’t know if Emily found you but she was looking a little bit ago, said if we saw you to tell you she was upstairs, third door to the right,” he tells you and you give a thumbs up, finishing the last gulp of your fourth or maybe fifth drink. Abandoning it with the various others, you start for the stairs in search of your friend who more than likely needed advice about some boy she liked here or a wingwoman to get his attention.

“Emily, you in here?” you ask carefully, pushing the door open to a pitch black room. Your hands fumble against the walls for a light switch but come up short, confusing you further.

“Yeah, over here,” she calls and you furrow your brows, confused why she would be sitting in the dark at a party of all places.

“Why are the lights off, I can’t see shit,” you grumble, stepping blindly into the room. You only had a little light from the door that was halfway cracked open so when it disappears with a slam you know you’ve just been shut in.

“I’m sorry but this is for your own good, there’s a chain for the light!” Emily’s voice now muffled by the door calls through the door and anger strikes you where you stand.

Desperate fists bang against the door as you call out at her and try the locked handle, confused why she’d trap you in a dark room all alone. When it’s certain she’s not going to respond you blindly search for a chain, cursing when you feel it hit your face. The same time your fingers finally grasp around it and tug, the door swings open and a body gets shoved in, before slamming closed again. Now bathed in light, eyes struggling to adjust to the drastic change, you discover it’s not a room but a large linen closet, and in front of you stands the one person you despised more than anyone.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” you scramble for the door again, ignoring the boy and slapping your hand hard against the wood.

“Let me out Emily, I’m not doing this!” your voice is venomous, angry and loud enough that even Charlie recoils a bit. He knew he should have questioned it when Levi said he wanted to show him something upstairs but he wasn’t nearly as annoyed with this predicament as you were.

“I don’t care, me and Levi are going back to the party and we’ll check back in an hour or so. Either way you need to get over this rivalry before Fall semester,” Emily calls back and you go to argue but stop yourself when fast footsteps belonging to the pair take off down the hall. Leaving you and Charlie locked together and away from the party.

“Really, it could be worse,” he finally says, voice making you stiff when you consider the fact you actually have to confront him.

“Maybe for you, but this is quite literally my worst nightmare,” you tell him as you turn around, aware there was only about a foot between you considering how small the room was. It was the most ideal of places but you were sure Emily didn’t put climbing out a window past you. It was evil and genius.

“Oh yeah? And why’s that ?” he asks curiously, arms crossing over his chest as he leaned against the shelf behind him. His ease with you made your skin crawl considering being this close to him was constantly testing your fight or flight reaction.

“You irk me,” you tell him sharply, leaning forward to convey how deeply and instead he just laughs.

“As if I haven’t noticed, Doll. What I’d like to know is the reason why, I haven’t done anything to you,” he counters and you grumble, kicking weakly at the door as if a miracle could happen at any point and free you of this confinement.

“I don’t like that you’re better at poetry than me. I’ve studied it my entire life, every detail and rule, and yet somehow you thrive with no effort at all,” you tell him and what you don’t expect is the amused chuckle you get after your angry words, trying hard to make him realize and understand why he bothered you so much.

“You see that’s your problem, there are no rules to poetry. Anything can be poetry. I don’t give a fuck what Pritchard said or how many stanza’s I need. If poetry is going to mean anything at all, then it should come from your heart, and not be constricted by some fake rules,” and you hate that even these words sound like one of the best poems you’ve ever heard.

“Fake rules? It's what we study, Charlie. It’s the whole point,” you tell him pointedly, finger poking into his chest as you try and get your point across.

“No it’s not, the whole point is for what you’re writing to mean something. I’d rather a poem be real than crafted to sound perfect,” he tells you, hand grasping the finger that sticks into his chest and you grumble despite the fact his words make sense.

“Okay and if that’s true, how the hell does an accounting student know that and I don’t?” you ask bitterly, ignoring the tight grasp on your hand from warm skin. You don’t want to admit that his cologne makes your knees a little weak and the close proximity dizzying. You despised Charlie but you also weren’t blind to his attractiveness.

“I had a good teacher, in High School I mean. Me and my friends would study it, write our own, and sneak out in the dark of the night to share it with each other. Only time in my life I felt free so when I write it now, it reminds me of how good things can be,” he says earnestly and you hate that it’s endearing, that he actually has plausible reason, and maybe you had judged him too harshly.

“If that is true why did you play into my hatred then, you could have just told me this from the beginning?” you ask him, tugging your hand back from his own to try and keep some sort of control.

“I liked you, thought you had fire, and it helped you’re one of the most gorgeous women I’ve ever seen,” he says and your body relaxes, heart speeding up as his words sink into your bones. He had put up with your shit all this time because he liked you. Even if it included mean comments and teasing the other, he had done it this whole time to have a relationship even if it was enemies.

“Oh my God, I’m so dumb,” you crumble against the wall behind you, feeling stupid for treating him so badly all this time. It was no wonder your friends had locked you in here, you had been so blind. What you don’t expect though is the heavy hand that lands on your waist.

“I wouldn't say that, I mean I let it go on for so long cause I thought it was hot. You hating me only made me want you more,” he admits and something electrifies the space between you, the anger and distaste fizzling out, and discovering he has some of the prettiest brown eyes you've ever seen. You're not sure why, but your eyes drop to his lips, returning only a second later to find he had seen you do it.

No more words need to be shared between you both, instead he has you pressed flat against the closet wall, and lips hot against your own. Your arms instinctively wrap around his neck, kissing him back more eagerly than he had. His body is filled out and strong against your own, grounding you and making you realize this whole time it was never hate. It had been lust.

On the same page for the first time in your entire relationship, you kiss him deeper, humming when his tongue tangles with your own. Your desire for him brings his hands to roam your body, something he’d been wanting to do since he saw you in this dress. On instinct he wedges his knee between your legs and you surprise yourself by grinding down onto it. It’s a drastic change and it could be the alcohol or the newly discovered feelings for him. Either way you needed him badly, and you needed him now.

“Are you sure about this?” he asks when he pulls away for air, breathing heavily and trying not to get dizzy from how good you feel in his arms.

“Yes, please. I need you Charlie,” you whine and he nods, quickly kissing you back, no longer hesitating. You’re wetter than you want to be, it should be embarrassing, but when his hand dips beneath your skirt he doesn’t tease you at all. Instead he groans into your mouth like it’s a gift you’re already this turned on for him.

“This may be your nightmare but it’s my dream,” he mutters, circling your clit with his fingers, and wishing he could tear your panties to shreds. You moan softly at the feeling, not wanting to waste anymore time like you had this whole semester. You grasp his length over his pants, hard and straining against the fabric, and he twitches against your palm.

“Just shut up and get inside me,” you demand and he nods, backing away to pop the button of his pants and drag them down before tugging his T-shirt off. You follow suit, removing your panties and pulling the skirt up to give him more access. His cock angry and red grazes his abdomen, and a part of you shivers with anticipation.

Closing the distance again, he tugs the straps of your dress down, freeing your breasts, and letting his calloused hands grope them. He looks on with adoration and it catches you off guard when one of those hands lifts your leg around his waist and grinds his length against your heat. You whine desperately as he lines himself up with your entrance, pushing in slowly which you’re thankful for considering you didn’t have much time to warm up.

“You okay?” he asks when he’s flush inside you and you nod, unable to find the words. When you press a soft and intimate kiss to his bare shoulder, he can’t stop himself from grabbing your other leg, and sinking even deeper into you as your feet leave the ground and you get sandwiched between him and the wall.

“Feels so good,” you mumble into his neck, trailing wet kisses and tasting his skin as if you’d forget after this was all over. Your words bring him to draw back and drive back in, pounding you against the wall with every deep thrust. Had there not been a band playing downstairs, almost everyone could probably hear you.

“You’re so perfect,” he mutters and your fingers tangle into his hair, knocking the beret off his head just like you had wanted earlier, before kissing him deeply. He continues his pace, thrusting into you as his lips mesh with your own. It’s dirty, hot, and fast, but somehow it feels right. Even if your friends could come back any second and find you.

“I’m close,” you tell him when he starts hitting just the right spot. Your words encourage him to remove one of his hands and find your bundle of nerves. He rubs quickly, working you over without losing his pace, and it’s no surprise you cum quickly, trembling against him as he continues to fuck you through it. When he’s certain you can’t squeeze him any tighter he finds himself finishing as well, spilling into you as his hips stutter and knees buckle. The both of you almost fall to the ground but he quickly catches himself.

“Wow,” you say after a beat, head resting softly on his shoulder, and he nods. Slowly he backs away from the wall, helping you down, and both wincing when he slips out.

“You could say that again,” Charlie says, finding a small towel on the shelf he leaned on not so long ago and moving towards you. You blush when he cleans himself from you before delicately pulling the straps off your dress back up. It’s intimate and sweet and you practically melt when he finishes it with a kiss to your nose.

“Does that mean we’re done hating each other?” he asks as he retrieves your panties and his own clothes, handing the fabric over to you. You giggle as you pull them up your legs and pull your skirt back down over yourself.

“Maybe, I’ll have to sleep on it,” you tease as he dresses himself as well, grabbing the beret from the ground and shoving it into his back pocket.

“And to think I was going to offer a sleepover,” he smirks and you blush at the same time the handle on the door jiggles and it swings open. Had it been a minute sooner you both would have been caught.

“So, did you two settle your differences?” Emily asks, arms crossed and foot tapping expectantly beneath her. You and Charlie share a look before turning back to her.

“You could say that,” you finally respond and Charlie snorts, hand falling to his chest as he allows himself to laugh.

“Well, I’ll take it. If you two fight again I’ll lock you somewhere other than a closet,” she threatens as she steps out of the way, allowing you two to leave. You both shuffle out into the hall, smelling like sex and burning with a desire for more of each other.

“Sounds fun,” Charlie tells her before wrapping an arm around your shoulder and your roommate gives a confused look, eyeing you both closely as you head for the stairs.

“Goodnight Emily,” you call out and it’s then she realizes you were leaving the party with the boy. When you’re both out of sight, she breaks out into a grin, jumping with victory.

The rivalry finally settled between you two, at least for now.

#gnawing on my keyboard #poet minor beret charlie save me #🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️

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