#and yes these are traced.. it was for fun so *shrug*

[pucksandpower]

Hall Pass

Charles Leclerc x Reader

Carlos Sainz x ex!Reader

Summary: Carlos’ desire to fantasize about other women leads you straight into his teammate’s arms (or in which your boyfriend chooses a famous actress as his hall pass while you decide on someone much closer to home)

The hotel suite is bathed in the warm glow of the setting sun, casting long shadows across the plush carpet. You sit on the edge of the king-sized bed, your fingers idly tracing the intricate patterns on the duvet cover. Across the room, Carlos leans against the ornate writing desk, his arms crossed over his chest and a pensive look on his face.

“Y/N,” he begins, his voice low and measured. “We need to talk.”

You look up, meeting his gaze with a mixture of curiosity and concern. “What’s on your mind?”

He shifts his weight, uncrossing his arms and shoving his hands into his pockets. “I’ve been thinking ... about us. About our relationship.”

Your heart skips a beat, a knot forming in your stomach. “Oh? And what have you been thinking?”

Carlos takes a deep breath, his eyes darting around the room before settling back on you. “I love you, Y/N. I do. But ... I can’t help feeling like we’re stuck in a rut.”

You furrow your brow, confusion and hurt mingling in your chest. “A rut? What do you mean?”

“It’s just ...” He pauses, searching for the right words. “We’ve been together for so long, and it’s been great. But don’t you ever wonder what else is out there?”

You stand up, taking a step towards him. “Carlos, are you saying you want to break up?”

He holds up his hands, shaking his head quickly. “No, no. That’s not what I’m saying at all. I just ... I had an idea.”

“An idea?” You repeat, your voice laced with skepticism.

Carlos nods, a hint of excitement creeping into his tone. “What if we each got a hall pass?”

You blink, taken aback. “A hall pass? Like ... permission to sleep with someone else?”

“Exactly,” he says, snapping his fingers. “But not just anyone. We each choose one person, and if we ever happen to meet them and the opportunity arises, we’re allowed to go for it. No hard feelings, no guilt.”

You stare at him, trying to process his words. “Let me get this straight. You want us to choose people we can cheat on each other with, guilt-free?”

Carlos winces at your phrasing. “It’s not cheating if we both agree to it. Think of it as ... spicing things up. Adding a little excitement to our relationship.”

You cross your arms, mirroring his earlier stance. “And you think this will solve our supposed ‘rut’?”

He shrugs, a boyish grin spreading across his face. “It could be fun. Just imagine the thrill of knowing we both have this secret possibility out there.”

You shake your head, disbelief coloring your voice. “I can’t believe you’re seriously suggesting this.”

“Come on, mi amor,” Carlos coaxes, taking a step towards you. “It’s not like anything will actually happen. We’ll probably never even meet the people we choose.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Then what’s the point?”

“The point is the fantasy, the excitement,” he explains, his eyes lighting up. “It’s like ... buying a lottery ticket. You know you probably won’t win, but the possibility is thrilling.”

You chew on your lower lip, considering his words. Part of you wants to shut down this ridiculous idea immediately, but another part is intrigued by the challenge. “And you really think this will help our relationship?”

Carlos nods eagerly. “I do. It’ll add a spark, keep things interesting.”

You sigh, running a hand through your hair. “I can’t believe I’m even considering this.”

“So ... is that a yes?” Carlos asks, hope evident in his voice.

After a long moment, you nod slowly. “Fine. But we set some ground rules first.”

Carlos grins, clapping his hands together. “Of course! Whatever you want.”

You hold up a finger. “Rule number one: we tell each other who we choose. No secrets.”

“Agreed,” Carlos says quickly.

“Rule number two: if anything ever does happen, we tell each other immediately.”

Carlos nods. “Absolutely. Honesty is key.”

You take a deep breath. “Okay. So ... who’s your choice?”

Carlos’ grin widens. “Margot Robbie.”

You can’t help but laugh. “Seriously? Margot Robbie?”

He shrugs, looking pleased with himself. “What? She’s gorgeous, talented, and there’s practically zero chance I’ll ever meet her, let alone have the opportunity to sleep with her.”

You shake your head, amused despite yourself. “Well, at least you’re being realistic about your chances.”

Carlos chuckles. “Exactly. It’s the perfect choice. Exciting, but safe.” He leans forward, curiosity sparking in his eyes. “What about you? Who’s your hall pass going to be?”

You pause, pretending to consider your options carefully. In truth, you’ve already made your decision, a plan forming in your mind. “Well,” you say slowly, “I think I’ll choose ... Charles.”

Carlos’ brow furrows in confusion. “Charles? What Charles?”

You allow a small smirk to play across your lips. “Charles Leclerc.”

The color drains from Carlos’ face as realization dawns. “Charles ... Leclerc? My teammate, Charles Leclerc?”

You nod, feigning innocence. “That’s the one.”

Carlos sputters, his earlier confidence evaporating. “But-but you can’t choose him!”

“Why not?” You ask, your voice sweet. “He fits all the criteria. He’s attractive, talented, and exciting.”

“But he’s my teammate!” Carlos exclaims, running a hand through his hair in agitation. “You see him all the time!”

You shrug, echoing his earlier nonchalance. “So? You’re the one who wanted to add some excitement to our relationship.”

Carlos paces back and forth, his earlier enthusiasm replaced by panic. “This isn’t what I meant! I chose someone I’ll never meet. You chose someone you could literally bump into tomorrow!”

“Carlos,” you say, your voice taking on a patronizing tone, “are you saying you don’t trust me?”

He stops pacing, turning to face you with wide eyes. “Of course I trust you. It’s just ... it’s Charles!”

You take a step towards him, your expression hardening. “Let me ask you something. Did you really think this through when you suggested it? Or were you just hoping for a free pass to fantasize about other women without feeling guilty?”

Carlos opens and closes his mouth, struggling to find a response. “I ... that’s not ... I didn’t mean ...”

You cut him off, your voice sharp. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you thought you could have your cake and eat it too. You’d get to keep me while indulging in your little fantasies about Margot Robbie or whoever else catches your eye.”

“Mi amor, please,” Carlos pleads, reaching for your hand. “That’s not what this was about at all.”

You pull away from his grasp, shaking your head. “No? Then what was it about? Because it sure as hell wasn’t about improving our relationship.”

He runs his hands over his face, frustration evident in every line of his body. “I just ... I thought it would be fun. A little harmless fantasy to spice things up.”

“Well, congratulations,” you say, your voice dripping with sarcasm. “You’ve certainly spiced things up now.”

Carlos looks at you, desperation in his eyes. “Can we just ... can we forget this whole thing? Pretend I never suggested it?”

You shake your head, a bitter laugh escaping your lips. “Oh no, Carlos. You don’t get to backtrack now. You wanted a hall pass? You’ve got one.”

“Please,” he begs, reaching for you again. “I was being stupid. I don’t want this.”

You step back, avoiding his touch. “Too late. What was it you said? No hard feelings, no guilt?”

Carlos’ face crumples. “I didn’t think ... I never imagined you’d choose someone like Charles.”

“Maybe you should have,” you snap. “Maybe you should have considered how I’d feel about you wanting permission to sleep with other women.”

He hangs his head, shame written across his features. “I’m sorry. I really am. Can we please just talk about this?”

You shake your head, moving towards the door of the suite. “I think we’ve talked enough for one night.”

Carlos’ head snaps up, panic flashing in his eyes. “Where are you going?”

You grab your purse from the nearby chair, slinging it over your shoulder. “Out. I need some air.”

“Y/N, wait!” Carlos calls, his voice rising in desperation. “You can’t ... you’re not going to ...”

You turn back to face him, your hand on the doorknob. “Going to what, Carlos? Use my hall pass? Isn’t that what you wanted?”

He shakes his head vehemently. “No! I mean, yes, but not like this. Not with Charles!”

“Why not?” You challenge. “He’s attractive, available, and conveniently located just down the hall. Isn’t that exciting?”

Carlos’ face contorts with a mixture of anger and fear. “You wouldn’t. You’re just trying to teach me a lesson.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Am I? Are you willing to bet on that?”

He takes a step towards you, his voice pleading. “Mi amor, please. I’m begging you. Don’t do this.”

You open the door, pausing in the threshold. “You know, Carlos, you were right about one thing. This definitely isn’t boring anymore.”

As you step into the hallway, you hear Carlos’ voice rising behind you. “Y/N! Come back! We need to talk about this!”

You let the door swing shut behind you, cutting off his desperate pleas. As you walk down the corridor, your heels clicking against the polished floor, a small smile plays across your lips.

You have no intention of actually going to Charles’ room, of course. But Carlos doesn’t need to know that. Let him stew in his own jealousy and insecurity for a while. Maybe next time he’ll think twice before suggesting something so foolish.

As you reach the elevator, you can still hear Carlos’ muffled shouts echoing from your suite. You press the button for the lobby, a mix of emotions swirling in your chest. Part of you feels guilty for causing him such distress, but a larger part feels justified in your actions. He needed to understand the consequences of his thoughtless suggestion.

As the elevator doors slide closed, you let out a long breath. It’s going to be a long night, but perhaps this will be the wake-up call your relationship needed. Not in the way Carlos had intended, but in a way that forces you both to confront the real issues lurking beneath the surface.

The elevator begins its descent, carrying you away from the drama upstairs and towards an uncertain future. One thing’s for sure — your relationship will never be the same after tonight. Whether that’s for better or worse remains to be seen.

***

The hotel bar is a sanctuary of soft lighting and hushed conversations. You sit perched on a high stool, nursing a glass of red wine and trying to quiet the storm of emotions raging inside you. The bartender, a middle-aged man with kind eyes, keeps glancing your way, clearly sensing your distress but respectfully maintaining his distance.

You’re so lost in thought that you don’t notice the figure approaching until he speaks.

“Y/N? Is everything alright?”

You look up, startled, to find Charles Leclerc standing beside you, concern etched across his handsome features. For a moment, you’re struck by the irony of the situation.

“Charles,” you manage, forcing a smile. “I’m fine, just ... needed some air.”

He raises an eyebrow, clearly not buying your act. “At the bar? Must be some very alcoholic air.”

Despite yourself, you let out a small laugh. “Caught me. Mind if I buy you a drink to keep my secret?”

Charles slides onto the stool next to you, a warm smile playing across his lips. “Only if you let me buy the next round and tell me what’s really going on.”

You hesitate, swirling the wine in your glass. “It’s ... complicated.”

“I’ve got time,” Charles says softly, signaling the bartender. “And I’ve been told I’m a pretty good listener.”

As the bartender sets a Moscow Mule in front of Charles, you take a deep breath. “Carlos and I had a fight.”

Charles nods, his expression neutral. “I see. Do you want to talk about it?”

You laugh bitterly. “Oh, you’re going to love this. He suggested we each get a hall pass.”

Charles’ brow furrows in confusion. “A hall pass? Like in school?”

“No,” you explain, taking a sip of your wine. “A relationship hall pass. Permission to sleep with one chosen person if the opportunity ever arose.”

Charles’ eyes widen in surprise. “He suggested that? Really?”

You nod, feeling a fresh wave of anger wash over you. “He thought it would ‘spice things up’. Add some excitement to our relationship.”

“And how did you feel about that?” Charles asks carefully, studying your face.

You sigh, running a hand through your hair. “Honestly? I felt ... hurt. Betrayed. Like I wasn’t enough for him anymore.”

Charles reaches out, hesitating for a moment before gently placing his hand over yours. “Y/N, you’re more than enough. Any man would be lucky to have you.”

You look up, meeting his intense gaze. “Thank you. That ... means a lot.”

He squeezes your hand before pulling away, taking a sip of his drink. “So, what happened next?”

You feel a mischievous smile tugging at your lips. “Well, I agreed.”

Charles nearly chokes on his drink. “You did?”

You nod, unable to suppress a small chuckle at his reaction. “I did. But not for the reasons Carlos wanted.”

“Oh?” Charles leans in, curiosity sparking in his eyes. “Do tell.”

“Well,” you say, lowering your voice conspiratorially, “Carlos chose Margot Robbie as his hall pass.”

Charles snorts. “Of course he did.”

“Exactly,” you agree. “So when it was my turn to choose ... I picked you.”

For a moment, Charles is speechless, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. Finally, he manages to sputter, “Me? You chose me?”

You nod, feeling a blush creep up your cheeks. “I did. You should have seen Carlos’ face. He was furious.”

Charles runs a hand through his hair, looking both flattered and bewildered. “I ... wow. I don’t know what to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything,” you assure him quickly. “I didn’t choose you because I actually intended to ... you know. I chose you to teach Carlos a lesson.”

Charles nods slowly, processing this information. “And did he learn his lesson?”

You shrug, finishing off your wine. “I don’t know. I left him screaming in our hotel room.”

“Y/N,” Charles says softly, his voice full of concern. “I’m so sorry you’re going through this. You deserve better.”

You feel tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. “Do I? Sometimes I wonder ...”

Charles reaches out again, this time cupping your cheek gently. “Listen to me. You are an incredible woman. You’re smart, funny, beautiful ... any man would be lucky to have you. And if Carlos can’t see that, if he’s willing to risk losing you over some stupid fantasy, then he doesn’t deserve you.”

You lean into his touch, feeling a warmth spread through your chest that has nothing to do with the wine. “Charles ...”

He leans in closer, his voice low and intense. “If you were with me, I would treat you like the queen you deserve to be. I would never even think about another woman, let alone ask for permission to be with one.”

Your breath catches in your throat, your heart pounding in your chest. “Charles, I ... we can’t ...”

He pulls back slightly, his eyes searching yours. “Why not? You have a hall pass, don’t you?”

You shake your head, trying to clear the fog of emotions clouding your judgment. “That’s not ... I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

Charles sighs, dropping his hand from your face. “I know. And I would never want to be the reason you and Carlos break up. But Y/N, you have to know ... I’ve had feelings for you for a long time.”

Your eyes widen in surprise. “You have?”

He nods, a rueful smile on his face. “How could I not? You’re amazing. But you were with Carlos, and I respected that. I still do. But seeing you hurt like this ... it kills me.”

You feel tears spilling down your cheeks now, unable to hold them back any longer. “I don’t know what to do. I love Carlos, but after tonight ... I don’t know if I can trust him anymore.”

Charles pulls you into a gentle hug, his strong arms wrapping around you protectively. “It’s okay. You don’t have to decide anything right now.”

You bury your face in his chest, inhaling his comforting scent. “I just ... I feel so lost.”

He strokes your hair softly, his voice a soothing murmur. “I know. But you’re not alone. I’m here for you, whatever you need.”

You pull back slightly, looking up into his eyes. “Thank you. You’re a good friend.”

He smiles, but there’s a hint of sadness in his eyes. “Always. But Y/N ... I want you to know that if you ever decide you want more than friendship, I’m here. I would never hurt you the way Carlos has.”

You feel a flutter in your stomach, a mix of excitement and fear. “Charles, I ...”

He shakes his head, placing a finger gently on your lips. “You don’t have to say anything. I just wanted you to know.”

You nod, suddenly very aware of how close you are, of the electricity crackling between you. “I should ... I should probably go.”

Charles nods, but makes no move to let you go. “Probably. But do you want to?”

You bite your lip, torn between desire and duty. “I ... I don’t know.”

He leans in, his lips barely brushing your ear as he whispers, “Come up to my room. We don’t have to do anything. We can just talk or watch a movie. But I don’t think you should be alone right now.”

You shiver at his closeness, your resolve weakening. “Charles, I ... what if someone sees us?”

He pulls back, his eyes meeting yours with an intensity that takes your breath away. “Let them see. You haven’t done anything wrong. You’re allowed to have friends, to seek comfort when you’re hurting.”

You take a deep breath, knowing that you’re standing on the edge of a precipice. One wrong move and everything could come crashing down. But looking into Charles’ eyes, feeling the warmth and safety of his presence, you find yourself nodding.

“Okay,” you whisper. “Let’s go.”

Charles stands, offering you his hand. You take it, allowing him to lead you towards the elevators. As you walk, you can feel the eyes of other patrons on you, but Charles’ steady presence beside you helps you keep your head high.

In the elevator, you stand close together, the air thick with unspoken tension. Charles’ thumb traces small circles on the back of your hand, sending shivers up your arm.

“Charles,” you say softly as the elevator begins to ascend. “I need you to know ... I’m not using you to get back at Carlos. Whatever happens tonight, it’s because I want it to.”

He turns to face you, his free hand coming up to cup your cheek once more. “I know. And I want you to know that whatever happens or doesn’t happen, tonight doesn’t change anything. I’ll still be here for you tomorrow, and the day after, and every day after that.”

You lean into his touch, feeling a sense of peace wash over you for the first time since your fight with Carlos. “Thank you.”

The elevator dings, signaling your arrival at Charles’ floor. He leads you down the hallway to his suite, fumbling slightly with the key card before pushing the door open.

As you step inside, you’re struck by how different it feels from the suite you share with Carlos. Where your room is cluttered with both of your belongings, evidence of your life together, Charles’ suite is neat and minimalist. It feels like a blank slate, a fresh start.

Charles closes the door behind you, leaning against it as he watches you take in the room. “So,” he says softly, “what now?”

You turn to face him, suddenly feeling nervous. “I ... I don’t know. This is all happening so fast.”

He nods, understanding in his eyes. “We can take it slow. Why don’t we sit down, maybe order some room service? We can talk, or not talk. Whatever you’re comfortable with.”

You feel a rush of affection for him, grateful for his patience and understanding. “That sounds nice.”

Charles moves to the phone, quickly ordering a selection of snacks and another bottle of wine. As he hangs up, he turns back to you with a shy smile. “I hope you don’t mind, I ordered your favorite.”

You blink in surprise. “You know my favorite wine?”

He shrugs, a faint blush coloring his cheeks. “I pay attention.”

You feel your heart skip a beat at his words. How many times had you had to remind Carlos of your preferences?

As you settle onto the plush sofa, Charles takes a seat beside you, close but not touching. “Y/N,” he says softly, “I want you to know that you’re in control here. We don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with.”

You nod, feeling a mix of gratitude and desire. “I know. And I appreciate that, Charles. But ...”

He raises an eyebrow. “But?”

You take a deep breath, gathering your courage. “But I think I want to kiss you.”

Charles’ eyes widen, a look of surprise and joy spreading across his face. “Are you sure?”

Instead of answering, you lean forward, pressing your lips to his in a tentative kiss. For a moment, Charles is still, as if he can’t believe this is happening. Then, with a small groan, he responds, his hand coming up to tangle in your hair as he deepens the kiss.

As you lose yourself in the sensation of Charles’ lips on yours, his strong arms pulling you closer, you feel a sense of rightness settle over you. You know that there will be consequences to face tomorrow, difficult conversations to be had. But for now, in this moment, you allow yourself to forget about everything else and simply feel.

When you finally pull apart, both breathing heavily, Charles rests his forehead against yours. “Y/N,” he whispers, his voice thick with emotion. “I’ve wanted to do that for so long.”

You smile, running your fingers through his hair. “Me too. I just didn’t realize it until now.”

He pulls back slightly, searching your eyes. “What happens now?”

You take a deep breath, considering your words carefully. “Now ... now we take things one step at a time. I can’t make any promises, Charles. I need to sort things out with Carlos, figure out what I really want.”

He nods, understanding and a hint of sadness in his eyes. “I know. And I’ll respect whatever decision you make. Just know that I’m here, Y/N. Whatever you need.”

You lean in, pressing another soft kiss to his lips. “Thank you. For everything.”

As you settle back into his arms, feeling safe and cared for in a way you haven’t in a long time, you know that whatever the future holds, this night has changed everything. And for the first time in a long time, you’re looking forward to what tomorrow might bring.

***

The soft morning light filters through the curtains, a sliver landing directly on the warming skin of your face. You stir slowly, awareness creeping in as you realize you’re not in your own bed. As your eyes flutter open, you find yourself nestled in Charles’ arms, his steady heartbeat a comforting rhythm against your cheek.

For a moment, panic flares in your chest as you try to piece together the events of the night before. But as memories flood back, you relax, remembering that while you and Charles shared kisses and conversation, nothing more intimate transpired.

Charles shifts beside you, his arms tightening slightly as he wakes. “Good morning,” he murmurs, his voice rough with sleep.

You tilt your head to look up at him, a small smile playing on your lips. “Good morning.”

He brushes a strand of hair from your face, his touch gentle. “How are you feeling?”

You take a moment to assess, surprised by the sense of calm that settles over you. “Better than I expected, actually.”

Charles nods, relief evident in his eyes. “I’m glad. I was worried you might regret ... well, everything.”

You shake your head, sitting up slightly to meet his gaze. “I don’t regret anything. Last night ... it made a lot of things clear for me.”

He raises an eyebrow, curiosity and hope warring in his expression. “Oh? What kind of things?”

You take a deep breath, steeling yourself for the conversation ahead. “I think ... I think I want to be with you. Not just for a hall pass, not just for one night. I want to see where this could go between us.”

Charles’ face lights up, joy radiating from every feature. But then, just as quickly, concern clouds his expression. “Y/N, as much as I want that — and believe me, I do — what about Carlos?”

You sigh, running a hand through your hair. “I need to end things with him. Properly. What he did, suggesting that hall pass ... it was just a symptom of bigger problems in our relationship. I see that now.”

Charles nods slowly, sitting up beside you. “Are you sure about this? I don’t want you to make any rash decisions because of one fight.”

You turn to face him fully, taking his hands in yours. “I’m sure. Last night, talking with you, being with you ... it made me realize what I’ve been missing. The respect, the understanding, the way you actually listen to me. I want that. I want you.”

A smile spreads across Charles’ face, but there’s still a hint of hesitation in his eyes. “You have no idea how happy it makes me to hear you say that. But ... are you sure you want to do this now? Maybe you should take some time, think things through.”

You shake your head, determination setting in. “No, I need to do this now. If I wait, I’ll just be living a lie. Carlos deserves to know the truth, and I ... I want to start this — us — with a clean slate.”

Charles squeezes your hands gently. “Okay. If you’re sure. But I’m not letting you face Carlos alone.”

You blink in surprise. “What do you mean?”

He meets your gaze steadily. “I mean I’m coming with you when you break up with him. I know Carlos, and I know he’s not going to take this well. I want to be there to support you.”

“Charles,” you protest weakly, “I can’t ask you to do that. It’s going to be messy enough without you there.”

He shakes his head firmly. “You’re not asking, I’m offering. More than that, I’m insisting. We’re in this together now. Let me be there for you.”

You feel tears prickling at the corners of your eyes, overwhelmed by his support. “Okay,” you whisper. “Thank you.”

Charles leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “Always. Now, why don’t we get cleaned up and face this together?”

An hour later, freshly showered and steeled for the confrontation ahead, you stand outside the door to your suite with Charles by your side. Your hand trembles slightly as you raise it to knock.

“Hey,” Charles says softly, catching your hand in his. “It’s going to be okay. I’m right here with you.”

You nod, taking a deep breath before rapping your knuckles against the door. For a long moment, there’s silence. Then, just as you’re about to knock again, the door flies open.

Carlos stands there, his hair disheveled and dark circles under his eyes. His gaze flicks between you and Charles, confusion quickly morphing into anger.

“What the hell is this?” He demands, his voice rough.

You step forward, trying to keep your voice calm. “We need to talk.”

He laughs bitterly, throwing the door wider. “Oh, now you want to talk? After disappearing all night? Come on in, let’s have a nice chat.”

As you and Charles enter the suite, you can’t help but notice the state of disarray. Empty bottles litter the coffee table, and it’s clear Carlos hasn’t slept.

“Have a nice night?” Carlos spits, slamming the door behind you.

You flinch at the sound, but stand your ground. “I’m sorry for leaving like that. But we need to discuss what happened.”

He rounds on you, anger blazing in his eyes. “What’s there to discuss? You used your fucking hall pass, didn’t you? With him?” He jabs a finger at Charles, who remains calm but alert beside you.

“No, Carlos, I didn’t,” you say firmly. “Charles and I talked, that’s all.”

Carlos scoffs, pacing the room like a caged animal. “Oh, you expect me to believe that? You disappear all night, then show up with him in the morning, and I’m supposed to think nothing happened?”

Charles steps forward, his voice level. “She’s telling you the truth. Nothing happened between us last night.”

Carlos whirls on him, fury contorting his features. “Stay out of this, Leclerc. This is between me and my girlfriend.”

You feel anger bubbling up inside you at his possessive tone. “That’s just it. I’m not your girlfriend anymore.”

The room goes deathly silent as your words hang in the air. Carlos stares at you, shock replacing anger for a moment before his face hardens again.

“What did you just say?” He growls.

You stand tall, drawing strength from Charles’ presence beside you. “I said I’m not your girlfriend anymore. I’m breaking up with you.”

For a moment, Carlos looks like you’ve physically struck him. Then, with a roar of rage, he sweeps his arm across the nearest surface, sending glasses and bottles crashing to the floor.

“You fucking bitch!” He shouts, advancing on you. “You sleep with my teammate and then have the audacity to break up with me?”

Charles steps between you and Carlos, his voice low and dangerous. “Back off. Now.”

Carlos sneers at him. “Oh, defending your new whore, are you? How noble.”

You push past Charles, anger overriding your fear. “That’s enough! I told you, I didn’t sleep with Charles. But even if I had, it would have been my right. You’re the one who suggested this stupid hall pass in the first place!”

Carlos laughs bitterly. “Oh, so this is my fault now? I suggest a little harmless fantasy to spice things up, and you use it as an excuse to cheat on me?”

“It wasn’t harmless!” You shout back. “It was hurtful and disrespectful. Did you ever stop to think how it would make me feel, knowing you wanted permission to sleep with other women?”

Carlos runs his hands through his hair, frustration evident in every line of his body. “It wasn’t about that! It was just a game, a fantasy!”

You shake your head, feeling a wave of sadness wash over you. “That’s the problem. Our relationship isn’t a game. It’s not something to be risked on a whim. And the fact that you don’t understand that ... it just proves we’re not right for each other anymore.”

Carlos’ anger seems to deflate, replaced by a desperate pleading. “Y/N, please. We can work this out. I’m sorry about the hall pass thing, okay? I was an idiot. But don’t throw away everything we have over one stupid mistake.”

You feel tears welling up in your eyes, but you blink them back. “It’s not just about the hall pass. It’s about everything. The way you take me for granted, the way you never really listen to me. I deserve better than that. I deserve someone who respects me, who values me.”

Carlos’ gaze flicks to Charles, understanding dawning in his eyes. “And you think he’s that someone? My teammate? My friend?”

Charles steps forward, his voice soft but firm. “I’m sorry it happened this way. I never wanted to hurt you. But Y/N is right — she deserves better. And I want to be the one to give her that.”

For a moment, you think Carlos might lunge at Charles. But then, to your surprise, he crumples, sinking onto the edge of the bed with his head in his hands.

“How long?” He asks, his voice muffled.

You move closer, but stop short of touching him. “How long what?”

He looks up, his eyes red-rimmed. “How long have you two been ... feeling this way about each other?”

You exchange a glance with Charles before answering. “Honestly? I didn’t realize how I felt about Charles until last night. When he was there for me, really listening and supporting me ... it made me see what I’ve been missing.”

Carlos nods slowly, a bitter smile twisting his lips. “And you, Charles? How long have you been in love with my girlfriend?”

Charles takes a deep breath, meeting Carlos’ gaze steadily. “A while. But Carlos, I swear to you, nothing ever happened between us until last night. And even then, we didn’t sleep together. I respect you too much for that.”

Carlos laughs humorlessly. “Respect me? You’re stealing my girlfriend and you talk about respect?”

You feel a flare of irritation at his words. “He’s not stealing me. I’m not a possession. I’m making my own choice.”

Carlos stands abruptly, moving to the window and staring out at the city below. For a long moment, silence reigns in the room. When he finally speaks, his voice is quiet, defeated.

“Get out. Both of you. I can’t ... I can’t look at either of you right now.”

You take a step towards him, your heart aching despite everything. “Carlos ...”

He whirls around, his eyes flashing. “I said get out! Take your things and go. I’ll have the rest sent to you.”

You nod slowly, knowing that pushing further will only make things worse. As you move around the room, gathering your essential belongings, you feel a profound sadness settling over you. This is the end of a significant chapter in your life, and despite your certainty that it’s the right decision, it still hurts.

Charles waits by the door, a silent, supportive presence. When you’ve finished packing a small bag, you join him, pausing at the threshold to look back at Carlos one last time.

“I’m sorry it ended this way,” you say softly. “I hope ... I hope someday you can forgive us.”

Carlos doesn’t respond, doesn’t even turn to look at you. With a heavy sigh, you step into the hallway, Charles close behind you.

As the door clicks shut, you lean against the wall, suddenly feeling drained. Charles wraps an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close.

“Are you okay?” He asks gently.

You nod against his chest, taking comfort in his warmth. “I will be. It’s just ... it’s a lot.”

He presses a kiss to the top of your head. “I know. But you’re not alone. We’ll get through this together.”

You look up at him, managing a small smile despite the turmoil of emotions swirling inside you. “Together. I like the sound of that.”

***

The soft glow of the setting sun filters through the curtains of Charles’ hotel suite, casting a golden light across the room. You sit on the plush sofa, your legs tucked beneath you, a glass of Prosecco cradled in your hands. Across from you, Charles leans against the minibar, his own glass in hand, a soft smile playing on his lips as he watches you.

“What?” You ask, feeling a blush creep up your cheeks under his intense gaze.

Charles shakes his head, his smile widening. “Nothing. I just ... I can’t believe you’re really here. With me.”

You take a sip of your Prosecco, savoring the crisp, bubbly taste. “I’m having a hard time believing it myself. But I’m glad I am.”

Charles moves to join you on the sofa, settling in close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating from his body. “How are you feeling? After everything that happened with Carlos ...”

You sigh, leaning back against the cushions. “Honestly? I feel ... lighter. Like a weight I didn’t even know I was carrying has been lifted.”

Charles nods, his expression thoughtful. “I’m glad. But I want you to know that I don’t expect anything from you. If you need time, space ...”

You cut him off by placing your hand gently on his arm. “I appreciate that. But I’ve had years of space with Carlos. What I want now is to be here, with you.”

His eyes light up at your words, and he leans in, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. As he pulls back, you can’t help but smile at the joy radiating from him.

“You know,” you say, taking another sip of your Prosecco, “I have to admit, I was surprised when you ordered this.”

Charles raises an eyebrow. “The Prosecco? Why?”

You shrug, a wry smile tugging at your lips. “Carlos always insisted on ordering Spanish cava. He said it was better. I never had the heart to tell him I preferred Prosecco.”

Charles looks at you incredulously. “You’re kidding. He never noticed?”

You shake your head. “Nope. I mean, I drank it, of course. But ... I don’t know. It just never seemed important enough to make a fuss over.”

Charles sets his glass down on the coffee table, turning to face you fully. “Y/N, listen to me. Your preferences, your likes and dislikes — they’re important. They matter. You matter.”

You feel tears prickling at the corners of your eyes, overwhelmed by the sincerity in his voice. “Thank you. That ... that means a lot.”

He reaches out, gently wiping away a tear that has escaped. “It’s the truth. And for the record, I’ve known you preferred Prosecco since that team dinner in Monza two years ago.”

Your eyes widen in surprise. “You remember that?”

Charles nods, a soft smile playing on his lips. “Of course. You lit up when they brought out the Prosecco. Your whole face changed. I’ve never seen someone so happy over a glass of bubbly.”

You laugh, feeling a warmth spread through your chest that has nothing to do with the alcohol. “I can’t believe you noticed that.”

“I notice everything about you,” Charles says softly, his hand coming up to cup your cheek. “I always have.”

You lean into his touch, your heart racing. “Like what?”

Charles’ thumb traces gentle circles on your skin as he speaks. “Like how you always twist your hair around your finger when you’re deep in thought. Or how you bite your lip to hide your smile when you’re trying not to laugh at one of the guys’ bad jokes.”

You feel a blush creeping up your neck, touched by his attention to detail. “What else?”

He grins, his eyes twinkling with mischief. “Well, I know you have a secret stash of gummy bears in your purse for long flights. And that you always hum Dancing Queen under your breath when you’re in a good mood.”

You gasp in mock horror. “Charles Leclerc, have you been spying on me?”

He laughs, the sound rich and warm. “Not spying. Just ... paying attention. Is that okay?”

You nod, feeling a lump form in your throat at the tenderness in his gaze. “It’s more than okay. It’s ... it’s wonderful.”

Charles leans in, pressing his forehead against yours. “You’re wonderful. And you deserve someone who sees that, who appreciates every little thing about you.”

You close the distance between you, capturing his lips in a soft, sweet kiss. When you pull back, you’re both a little breathless.

“Charles,” you murmur, “I think I’m falling for you.”

His face lights up with joy. “That’s good, because I’ve already fallen for you.”

You laugh, feeling lighter than you have in years. “Oh really? When did that happen?”

Charles pretends to think for a moment. “Hmm, probably around the time you yelled at that journalist for asking me stupid questions after my DNF in Canada.”

You groan, hiding your face in your hands. “Oh god, I forgot about that. I was so embarrassed afterwards.”

He gently pries your hands away, his eyes shining with admiration. “Don’t be. It was amazing. No one’s ever defended me like that before.”

You shrug, feeling a bit sheepish. “He was being an ass. You didn’t deserve that after the race you had.”

Charles pulls you closer, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “See? That’s what I mean. You care. Deeply and fiercely. It’s one of the things I love most about you.”

You snuggle into his side, reveling in the warmth and safety of his embrace. “You know, it’s funny. I always thought I was happy with Carlos. But being here with you ... it’s making me realize how much I was missing.”

Charles presses a kiss to the top of your head. “Like what?”

You take a moment to gather your thoughts. “Well, for one thing, this. Just sitting and talking, really talking. With Carlos, it always felt like we were just going through the motions, you know? Like we were playing the roles of the perfect couple without really connecting.”

Charles nods, his hand rubbing soothing circles on your arm. “I get that. It’s easy to fall into patterns, to stop really seeing each other.”

“Exactly,” you agree. “And it’s not just the big things. It’s the little stuff too. Like ...” You pause, a memory suddenly surfacing. “Oh! Like the flowers.”

Charles raises an eyebrow. “Flowers?”

You sit up, turning to face him. “Yeah. Carlos always sent me these huge bouquets of red roses. Which, don’t get me wrong, were beautiful. But ...”

“But they’re not your favorite,” Charles finishes for you.

You blink in surprise. “How did you know that?”

He grins, looking a bit bashful. “Remember that charity gala in Milan last year? You spent at least ten minutes gushing over the centerpieces.”

You gasp, the memory flooding back. “The peonies! Oh my god, Charles, how do you remember these things?”

He shrugs, his eyes soft as he looks at you. “Like I said, I pay attention. Especially when it comes to you.”

You feel your heart swell with affection. “Well, Mr. Attentive, what else have you noticed about me?”

Charles pretends to think hard, tapping his chin dramatically. “Let’s see ... I know you prefer your coffee with just a splash of milk, no sugar. You always double-knot your shoelaces before a run. Oh, and you have a secret obsession with cheesy 80s power ballads.”

You laugh, playfully swatting his arm. “Okay, now I know you’re making things up. There’s no way you could know about my power ballad addiction.”

He raises an eyebrow, a mischievous glint in his eye. “Oh really? So if I were to start singing Total Eclipse of the Heart, you wouldn’t immediately join in?”

Your jaw drops. “How ... how did you ...”

Charles grins triumphantly. “Team karaoke night in Singapore. You thought everyone was too drunk to remember, but I wasn’t as far gone as I let on.”

You groan, burying your face in your hands. “Oh god, I’m never going to live that down, am I?”

He gently pries your hands away, his expression soft and sincere. “Hey, no hiding. I loved it. You were so free, so happy. It was beautiful to watch.”

You feel tears prickling at your eyes again, overwhelmed by the depth of his feelings. “Charles ...”

He cups your face in his hands, his thumbs gently wiping away the tears that have escaped. “Y/N, I want you to know that I see you. All of you. The good, the bad, the silly, the serious. And I love every part of it.”

You lean into his touch, your heart racing. “I’m starting to see you too, Charles. And I ... I think I might be falling in love with what I see.”

His face lights up with joy, and he pulls you in for a deep, passionate kiss. When you finally break apart, you’re both breathless and grinning.

“So,” Charles says, his voice low and husky, “what do you say we order some room service? I’m thinking ... chocolate lava cake for dessert?”

You gasp in delight. “How did you know that’s my favorite?”

He winks, reaching for the room service menu. “I told you, mon cœur. I pay attention.”

As Charles calls down to place the order, you lean back against the sofa, a contented smile playing on your lips. You can’t help but marvel at how different this feels from your relationship with Carlos. With Charles, you feel seen, heard, understood in a way you never have before.

When he hangs up the phone and rejoins you on the sofa, you curl into his side, feeling perfectly at home in his arms. As the night deepens around you, filled with laughter, deep conversations, and stolen kisses, you know that this is just the beginning of something beautiful. With Charles, you’re not just being loved — you’re being cherished, appreciated for every little thing that makes you who you are.

And as you drift off to sleep in his arms later that night, the taste of chocolate and Prosecco still lingering on your lips, you can’t help but feel that you’ve finally found where you truly belong.

***

Carlos stands at the edge of the pit lane, his eyes fixed on the scene unfolding before him. You and Charles are huddled together by the Ferrari garage, laughing and talking animatedly. The sight sends a sharp pang through Carlos’ chest, a mixture of anger, jealousy, and regret swirling in his gut.

He watches as Charles leans in, whispering something in your ear that makes you throw your head back in laughter. Carlos grits his teeth, remembering a time when he was the one to make you laugh like that.

“They look happy, don’t they?” A voice says beside him.

Carlos turns to see Lando standing there, a sympathetic look on his face. “What do you want?” Carlos growls, not in the mood for conversation.

Lando holds up his hands in a placating gesture. “Just checking on you, mate. I know this can’t be easy to watch.”

Carlos scoffs, turning his attention back to you and Charles. “I’m fine. It’s not like I care what she does anymore.”

Even as he says the words, Carlos knows they’re a lie. He does care. He cares so much it feels like he’s being torn apart from the inside.

He watches as Charles pulls out a small package from his pocket, handing it to you with a flourish. Your eyes light up as you unwrap it, revealing what looks like a bag of candy.

“What’s that about?” Carlos mutters, more to himself than to Lando.

Lando squints, trying to get a better look. “Looks like ... gummy bears? Huh, I didn’t know Y/N liked those.”

Carlos feels like he’s been punched in the gut. “She doesn’t,” he says automatically. But even as the words leave his mouth, he sees the way you’re beaming at Charles, popping a gummy bear into your mouth with evident delight.

“You sure about that?” Lando asks, raising an eyebrow.

Carlos doesn’t respond, his mind racing. How had he never known you liked gummy bears? Had you ever mentioned it? Had he ever bothered to ask?

He’s pulled from his thoughts by the sound of your laughter again. Charles is holding out his phone, showing you something on the screen. As you lean in to look, Charles’ arm slips around your waist, pulling you close.

Carlos feels his hands clench into fists at his sides. He wants to look away, but he can’t seem to tear his eyes from the scene.

“You know,” Lando says carefully, “maybe you should talk to them. Clear the air.”

Carlos shakes his head vehemently. “There’s nothing to talk about. She made her choice.”

Lando sighs. “Look, mate, I know you’re hurting. But-”

“But nothing,” Carlos snaps. “Just drop it.”

Lando holds up his hands in surrender. “Alright, alright. I’m here if you need to talk, though.”

As Lando walks away, Carlos continues to watch you and Charles. He sees the way Charles’ hand rests on the small of your back, the way you lean into him as if it’s the most natural thing in the world.

Suddenly, Charles looks up, his eyes meeting Carlos’ across the paddock. For a moment, they just stare at each other, an unspoken tension crackling between them. Then, to Carlos’ surprise, Charles says something to you and starts making his way over.

Carlos straightens, steeling himself for the confrontation. As Charles approaches, he can see you watching anxiously from a distance.

“Carlos,” Charles says, his voice cautious. “Can we talk?”

Carlos crosses his arms, his jaw clenched. “What’s there to talk about?”

Charles sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Look, I know this situation is ... complicated. But I want you to know that I never meant to hurt you.”

Carlos laughs bitterly. “Hurt me? You stole my girlfriend. How did you think that was going to make me feel?”

Charles shakes his head. “I didn’t steal anyone. Y/N made her own choice.”

“Right,” Carlos spits. “And I’m sure you had nothing to do with that.”

Charles takes a deep breath, clearly trying to keep his composure. “I won’t deny that I had feelings for Y/N for a long time. But I never acted on them while you were together. Never.”

Carlos scoffs. “Oh, how noble of you.”

“Carlos, please,” Charles says, his voice softening. “I know you’re angry, and you have every right to be. But can’t you see how happy she is?”

Carlos’ eyes flick back to you, standing by the garage and watching them anxiously. He hates to admit it, but you do look happy. Happier than he can remember seeing you in a long time.

“She was happy with me,” Carlos insists, but the words sound hollow even to his own ears.

Charles gives him a sad smile. “Was she? Really? Because from what she’s told me, there were a lot of things you never noticed about her.”

Carlos feels a flare of anger. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” Charles says carefully, “that sometimes we take the people we love for granted. We stop seeing them, really seeing them.”

Carlos wants to argue, to defend himself, but he finds the words sticking in his throat. Because deep down, he knows Charles is right.

“Did you know,” Charles continues, his voice gentle, “that her favorite flowers are pink peonies? Not red roses?”

Carlos blinks, caught off guard. “What?”

Charles nods. “Or that she prefers Prosecco to cava? Or that she has a secret addiction to 80s power ballads?”

With each revelation, Carlos feels like he’s being hit with a fresh wave of regret. How had he missed all of these things? How had he failed to notice what made you, you?

“I ...” Carlos starts, then stops, unsure of what to say.

Charles puts a hand on his shoulder, the gesture surprisingly kind given the circumstances. “I’m not telling you this to hurt you. I’m telling you because I want you to understand. Y/N deserves to be with someone who sees her, who appreciates every little thing about her.”

Carlos nods slowly, the fight draining out of him. “And that someone is you?”

Charles smiles softly. “I hope so. I’m certainly trying to be.”

They stand in silence for a moment, both looking over at you. You’re still watching them anxiously, clearly worried about what they might be saying to each other.

Finally, Carlos speaks, his voice rough with emotion. “Just ... just promise me you’ll treat her right. Better than I did.”

Charles nods solemnly. “I promise. With everything I have.”

As Charles turns to walk back to you, Carlos calls out, “Charles?”

Charles pauses, looking back over his shoulder.

“Thank you,” Carlos says quietly. “For loving her the way she deserves.”

Charles gives him a small, understanding smile before continuing on his way. Carlos watches as he returns to you, sees the way your face lights up as Charles pulls you into a comforting embrace.

As he turns to walk away, Carlos feels a mix of emotions swirling inside him. There’s still pain, still regret, but there’s also a glimmer of something else. Something that feels a lot like acceptance.

He realizes now that he had taken you for granted, had failed to see the beautiful, complex person you truly were. And while it hurts to admit it, he knows that Charles sees all of that and more.

As he makes his way back to his own garage, Carlos makes a silent promise to himself. To pay more attention, to really see the people in his life. Because he never wants to make the same mistake again, never wants to lose someone else because he failed to appreciate them.

And as he glances back one last time, seeing you and Charles walking hand-in-hand, laughing and lost in your own world, Carlos feels a weight lift from his shoulders.

It’s not easy, and it still hurts, but he knows now that this is how it should be. You deserve to be with someone who knows you, truly knows you, inside and out.

And as much as it pains him to admit it, that someone isn’t him. It’s Charles.

With a deep breath, Carlos turns away, ready to face whatever comes next. He’s lost you, but in doing so, he’s gained a valuable lesson. One he won’t soon forget.

[nikkento-writes]

It starts with a distasteful joke from Gojo. "I bet Nanami's pretty vanilla in bed, am I right?" He nudges you playfully as he sips on his lychee mocktail in the restaurant. Your boyfriend excused himself to use the bathroom and Ieiri went out for a smoke, leaving you alone with Gojo, who you met for the first time just a little over an hour ago.

You're shocked that he'd even ask such a personal question, especially since your relationship with Nanami is still four-months fresh. Unsure how to respond, you simply laugh, not answering. When he continues to stare at you through his blindfold, your smile falters. "You're being serious?"

He smirks, clearly egging you on. "I just can't imagine our little strait-laced salary man being very fun in the sack. No offense."

You're torn between changing the subject all together into something less inappropriate and defending your lover's honor. And unfortunately for you, as the anger inside you begins to bubble at Gojo's tactless words, you choose the latter. "If you must know, he's very, very fun in the sack." You cross your arms over your chest, glaring at him. 

He shrugs, the shit-eating grin still on his face. "I just can't see it. But as long as you're satisfied, that's all that matters."

"I am very satisfied, thank you very much!" you emphasize, cheeks hot now, annoyed. Before you explode on him, Nanami and Ieiri return, so you try to contain your rage as much as possible throughout the rest of dinner.

You intend to keep his outrageous comments to yourself, not wanting to start any unnecessary drama, especially with Nanami who is above this type of ridiculousness. But remembering Gojo's smug expression makes you irate all over again. That night, while you're cuddling with Nanami, you share the story. "So, Gojo said something funny to me while you were in the bathroom." As you recount the short conversation from earlier, you keep it light-hearted, laughing about it as if it doesn't grind your gears (which it does). In all honestly, your sex life with Nanami is amazing, and while it's nobody's business but your own, you can't help being bothered that certain people think otherwise. 

When you're done, Nanami doesn't respond right away, processing it all before he speaks. "Interesting." His voice is steady, though you can sense a hint of annoyance in his tone. "He's an idiot," he adds, holding you closer, grazing his lips on your forehead. 

You giggle, snuggling into his chest. "I know."

"But...you are satisfied, right?"

The waver of uncertainty in his voice breaks your heart and you almost regret telling him. "Of course I am! You know I am!" you answer confidently, peering up at him.

He kisses your forehead. "You promise?"

Grabbing both his cheeks, you smooch him on the lips. "I promise."

Gentle kisses soon turn into sloppy ones as Nanami rolls on top of you, surrounding you in his strong and muscular body. It happens quickly; the blanket is shrugged off, clothes are stripped and scattered on the floor, your legs are spread wide for him as he eats you out voraciously, proving how much fun he can be in bed. He makes you orgasm twice like this, getting it nice and wet for his hard cock, throbbing in his fist as he strokes it. “Ride me,” he demands, laying on his back, licking his lips while you mount him.

You oblige, sinking down on his cock slowly, adjusting to his size. “Fuck, Kento,” you whine, wiggling on his lap until he bottoms out.

“Feels good, huh sweetheart?” He traces your mouth with his thumb, teasing it.

“Yes. So fucking good.” You suck on his fingers, rocking back and forth on his lap. 

He fucks you like this, his feet planted on the bed, bucking his hips up into you at a steady pace. Suddenly, his phone rings, interrupting for a moment. He glances at it, his expression tensing, showing you the name displayed on the screen: Gojo Satoru.

"Answer it," you say, grinding on him with a wicked smile on your face. "Prove him wrong."

For a split-second, he looks at you like you're crazy. But something in him snaps, probably the same thing that made you so angry earlier. Sometimes, you just want to prove yourself right. 

He picks up the phone, putting it on speaker. Gojo's voice rings out. "Nanami, I feel terrible. I said some inappropriate things to your girl - "

"Fuck me, Kento," you whine, bouncing on his lap as he thrusts up into you faster, entire body hot and electric with pleasure. 

Nanami has the phone in one hand and the other that was just in your mouth playing with your clit now. Through labored breaths, he says, "Sorry Gojo, I'm a bit busy being an absolute bore in bed. Isn't that right, kitten?" 

He holds the phone closer to you while you moan your boyfriend's name, your third climax of the night approaching quickly. "Kento, Kento, fuck me Kento!”

Satisfied, Nanami sets the phone down on the bed, gripping your hips to pound up into you, the squelching of his cock pummeling into your wet cunt so erotic and lewd. “Gonna fill you up, sweetheart. Gonna breed this slutty little pussy.” Over the edge now, he shoots his load inside you, letting out his own husky moans. He hastily lifts you off him to eat you out one last time, his cum leaking down from your cunt onto his chin as he sucks on your swollen clit until you come on his face, moaning obscenities incessantly. Completely spent now, you pull off him to cuddle, kissing each other messily as you both come down from your high. 

"Ahem." Gojo's voice startles you as you realize that neither he nor Nanami bothered to hang up the call. Horrified, the two of you wait with bated breath for his response, noting the suggestive ruffling in the background. "I apologize. I stand corrected."

[mapis-putellas]

Show off

Pairing: Alexia Putellas x Reader

Words: 1400

Warnings: none

Summary: Alexia challenges you to a pull-up competition.

Notes: this was fun to write. Enjoy <3

[Prompt list]

"Amor, come on!" Alexia complains as she loops her arms around your waist and rests her chin against your shoulder, peppering your face with soft kisses.

You roll your eyes exasperatedly. "Ale, I've already said no. You only want to do it to prove how much stronger you are than me." You pat her hands placatingly as you step out of her arms to continue with folding the laundry.

"What? No. That is not the truth," she exclaims in mock offence as she clutches at her chest. "You have been practicing, yes? At the gym with mapi?"

Tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear as you turn to face her. "Yes, I have. But it's been a week. How much progress do you think I would have been able to make in seven days, ale?"

Alexia shrugs as she easily lifts herself onto the counter, "I do not know. A lot?" She kicks her legs absently, ignoring the way you glare at her when her feet -clad in shoes might you add, hit the white cupboards below.

You sigh in relinquishment. "For you, maybe, but I'm very much a beginner. You, my love, are not."

"Sí, I know. But por favor, amor? For me?"

Alexia wasn't one to beg. In your three and a half year relationship, you think you’d only heard her do so a handful of times and the majority of those were in the bedroom. Otherwise, she could be very convincing when coaxing you into doing what she wants, so there was ultimately never any need for her to beg.

"Ale..." You trail off.

Alexia slides off of the counter, her feet landing on the floor with a soft thud. She makes her way over to you, large hands rising to cup your cheeks before leaning down and pressing her lips oh so tenderly against your own. You sigh on resignation as your own hands rise to rest on either side of her waist, fully aware that she had once again gotten her way.

A few moments later you pull away, eyes rolling when you were immediately met with a smirk.

"Okay. We can do a pull-up contest. But I have one condition." You warn.

Alexia nods seriously. "Sí, mi amor. Anything."

"Any teasing, smack talk or bragging, you're on the couch tonight. Understand?"

"Smack talk?" She tilts her head to the side.

You cup her face, tracing the pads of your thumbs beneath her eyes. "It's the act of criticizing another person. Which you will not do to me when you win."

Alexia immediately shakes her head as she takes your hands and places a gentle kiss to the insides of your wrist. "I will not bebé. Promise."

Prior experience has you want wanting to believe her, but figuring you would be nice and give her the benefit of the doubt, you let out a quiet sigh before begrudgingly nodding your head.

You can't help but laugh at the way her face lights up as she all but yanks you into her arms, your feet now dangling in the air as your hands clutch to the back of her shirt.

God, you were such a sucker.

"Okay, okay. When?" You breath, wiggling out of her arms before turning and placing the folded clothes into the laundry basket to be put away later. Or, well, whenever you get around to it if you were being completely honest with yourself. Probably sometime next week.

Your hand was immediately grabbed the second it was unoccupied, and you allow her to pull you out of the kitchen and towards her small home gym. There was a pull-up bar fixed to the doorframe, yoga mats and dumbbells in corner of the room along with many other pieces of equipment you’d yet to learn the names of.

"I will go first, amor," she pulls off her shirt leaving her in a black sports bra and red shorts. "You count, yes?"

Your eyes whip up from where they'd fallen down to her six pack, and you nod silently, watching as she smirks before raising her arms and grabbing onto the pull-up bar with ease. She was going before you could blink, arm muscles becoming more prominent as she lifts herself up and down like it was nothing.

Your eyes somehow seem to drift down to her six pack again on their own accord, and you decide it would probably be best to ignore her laugh so her ego didn't get any bigger than it already was.

She was back on the floor before you could even notice she was done, slightly out of breath as she rubs her hands together and makes her way over to you. Your eyes slowly climb up her body until they were staring into her own.

"Amor, did you count?" She reaches up and closes your mouth, and you flush heavily as you push her hand away and cross your arms against your chest. “You did not, did you?”

"Yes, I did." You feign your assertiveness a lot more confidently than you felt, and Alexia rolls her eyes knowingly as she nods her head in begrudging acceptance.

"How many?"

"Huh?”

“Pull-ups, bebé. How many?”

“Uhh…”

"Let's say, twenty, yes?" She grins, and you sigh dejectedly before nodding.

"Sure. Twenty." There was no way in hell you were going to be able to beat that. Seemingly having more confidence in you than you did in yourself, Alexia coaxes you over to the bar with a gentle hand on the small of your back.

"Ready?" She braces a hand on either side of your waist, and you take a deep breath before nodding and reaching up your arms. She lifts you with ease, making sure you had a good hold before rounding your body and standing a little in front of you.

Ignoring the fact your hands were beginning to burn already, you use all your strength and pull your chin up and over the bar with a quiet grunt.

"Sí. Muy bien bebé." Alexia praises, and you smile slightly as you once again pull yourself up and over the bar. You mange to repeat this three more times before your arms start to burn. Feeling a little pathetic at only being able to complete five pull-ups in comparison to Alexia’s

twenty, you grit your teeth and somehow manage to pull yourself up two before times before sending Alexia a look that says get me down.

Alexia steps forward and loops her dams beneath your behind immediately, and you let out a sigh of relief as you let go of the bar and rub your sore hands together.

Supporting your body with ease, Alexia looks up at you with a proud smile on her face. You can't help but mimic it as you circle your arms around her shoulders.

"Buena chica," she praises, leaning forward and kissing your chest. You flush just slightly. "I did not think you could do that many."

"It was only seven." You shrug.

"No no." Alexia shakes her head as she bounces you up slightly to get a better grip, your legs now hooked around her bare waist. "How many could you do before?"

"One, I think?" you struggle to recall the specific number due to Mapi yelling at you. Carry on chica. You got this! Use those chicken arms! You’d been quite offended honestly.

“Maybe two?" You doubt yourself.

"Exactamente! And you did seven today. That is five more, no? You are getting strong." She grasps your bicep between her hand and gives it a squeeze, making you laugh quietly as your own hands tangle through the baby hairs at the nape of her neck.

"Soon I'll be stronger than you." You muse, wiggling your eyebrows playfully.

"No, amor," Alexia states seriously, and you tilt your head to the side. "No one is as strong as me."

"Oh, is that so?" You laugh, and Alexia grins smugly as she makes her way back over to the pull-up bar. You stare at her in confusion, aware she was up to something but not knowing what.

"Hold on tight." Is all she says in place of an explanation, and you can't help but yelp when she lets you go and reaches for the bar above you both.

Complying and wrapping your body completely around her own as tight as you physically could, you stare gobsmacked as she begins doing pulls-up with the same ease as before.

"Show off." You grumble, Alexia's laugh echoing around the room.

**

Tags:

@simp4panos @girlgenius1111 @goldenempyrean @codiemarin

[likedovesinthewindd]

Can you do a fic of jealous art donaldson?

yes omw 🙏🏽🙏🏽this is a bit short tho sorry bb

What the two of you had was not exclusive. That had not been said explicitly by either of you but safely assumed by both. It was an unspoken agreement you two had reached at some point during this whole affair: you weren't looking for anything serious right now, just some harmless fun.

You didn't like to call it what you both knew it was — friends with benefits — because it felt too impersonal to say so. Ironic, considering being impersonal was exactly what a situation like yours required.

But it wasn't; there were way too many nights that ended with your head resting against his chest, his hand tracing patterns across the top of your arms and between your shoulder blades and lips pressing soft kisses to the top of your head after he had asked you to stay the night. Too many times where you were the first person he'd call after a hard day, just needing to hear your voice to feel better. Too many times, he'd look for your face in the crowd on the pavillion, a smile stretching across his face when he'd find you sitting front row.

So, at times, it was hard to say the two of you haven't become close over the last few months because you definitely have. It was also harder to admit to yourself that the only reason you even gave Henry, the boy in your economics class, the time of day was because you thought it'd help take your mind off of your ever growing crush on Art. You'd regret it immediately after, feeling as though you were stringing the poor guy along.

You felt ten times worse when Art had asked you about it, too.

"What's up with you and Henry these days?" he had quietly asked as his mouth continued its painstakingly slow pace down your body, pressing feather light kisses to every area of exposed skin.

Your hand ran through his blond hair, frowning at the mention of Henry. "Nothing," you answered, "why do you ask?"

He shrugged as he lifted his head, resting his chin on your chest. Both of your hands ran through his hair now. "I'm just curious," he reassoned, shifting his head to kiss the skin peaking from the top of your bra. "I just don't really like him," he added.

"That's too bad," you sighed as his warm hands gripped your upper legs, bringing one higher to rest on his hip, "because I have a date with him tomorrow night."

It almost scared you how fast he stopped what he was doing, looking up at you with eyebrows furrowed. "Really?" he asked, scowl deepening when you laughed, the sound reverberating through his chest.

"No, I'm just joking," you said, thumb smoothing over the crease in his brows as you watched his face soften. "I just wanted to see what you would do."

He huffed, head bending down to place another kiss to the soft skin above the soft lace trimmings of your bra, hands continuing to rub your legs gently. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were jealous," you laughed, the sound quickly turning into a shriek when he lightly bit you in retaliation to your teasing.

"Of course I'm jealous," he sated very matter-of-factly, lips now between the valley of your breasts, kissing the bra's little bow. "Why are you jealous, Art?" you asked softly, gently lifting his head so that he'd look at you again. "You know why," he sighed, eyes closing when he felt your nails lightly scratch against his scalp.

"I wanna hear you say it."

His eyes reopened, moving up your body until you were face to face. You held his face in your hands, and he kissed the corner of the mouth. "Because," another kiss to the other side, "I want you all myself," he admitted. You smiled unabashedly at that, body warming at his admission. "You could have that if you asked," you countered, and he hummed in amusement. "Can I be your boyfriend? Would you like that?" You rolled your eyes playfully, pretending to be in thought for a moment. "I'd like that."

[ataliagold]

you told me once that i'm selfish (and i kissed you hard, in the dark)

For @astrangersummer week 4 prompt 'outside'. Title from Letter to an Old Poet by boygenius.

Pairing: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson

Rating: General

W/C: 1430

Tags: Established Steddie, minor angst, fluff, hand-holding, Steve just wants to go hiking but Eddie's not keen on the idea, until he is, despite a minor argument these boys are so soft for each other, slightly selfish Eddie but he apologizes, Eddie gets a cool stick

Summary: Steve is used to spending time doing what Eddie wants to do. On a hot summer afternoon, the tables are turned when Steve asks Eddie to go hiking with him and Eddie is...not so thrilled about it.

___

“A hike?”

“Yup.”

“You want to go…hiking?”

“Uh huh.”

“You want me to go hiking with you?”

“Yes, Eddie.”

“…I’m not sure that’s the best idea.”

“Why not?”

“Well, we could do…something else. Go to the arcade! Catch a movie, get drunk by your pool…I can come up with many alternatives to hiking, big boy.”

“I want to go, it’s one I used to do often years ago. It’ll be fun, just try it. It’s summer, we should get outdoors, enjoy the sun.”

“I’m not really an outdoors kinda guy, Steve. I thought you knew that by now.”

Steve’s shoulders had slumped a little at that. He’d watched as Eddie screwed up his nose at Steve’s suggestion, as he shook his head vehemently, as he rolled his eyes a little at Steve’s insistence that it would be a nice way to spend their Sunday.

Eddie didn’t want to go. That was ok; Steve wouldn’t make him. It had been stupid to even ask him in the first place, he supposed – Eddie was right, it really wasn’t his sort of thing.

Except…Steve had spent long evenings watching Eddie and the kids playing their campaigns, had listened as best he could as Eddie rattled off ideas and suggestions to him for the next D&D session, had sat through the frankly terrible horror movies that Eddie was rapt with, always let him play his music in the car, shrugged it off good-naturedly when Eddie complained about his taste in music…

Steve been hoping maybe Eddie would try something that he enjoyed, just for a day.

He knew Eddie hated sport and practically any form of intentional exercise; hell, his boyfriend reminded him of that frequently, grumbling when Steve and Wayne were glued to a game on TV or when Steve was busy shooting hoops with Lucas. Usually, Steve didn’t care – he knew they had different interests, loved Eddie enough that it didn’t matter.

But sometimes, Eddie’s jibes about him being a jock or a philistine or uncultured just…stung a little, especially considering Steve never bit back with his own insults, had left those days long behind him.

“Yeah, ok,” Steve mumbled eventually. “I’ll just…I’ll ask Lucas or something.”

Eddie shook his head. “He’s at Mike’s this weekend.”

“Oh. Well…never mind, then.”

Eddie sat up, grabbing for Steve’s hand. Steve let him take it, but with little enthusiasm.

“We can do something else, though,” Eddie said brightly. “Wanna rent a couple of movies, get high? I’ve still got some of Argyle’s stuff left, we could…Steve?”

Steve’s hand had gone weak in Eddie’s, his gaze drifting downwards. “Hmm?”

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

Eddie shuffled closer, tilted his head to try and catch Steve’s eye. “Steeeeevie,” he hummed.

“What?” Steve said, snapping a little.

Eddie recoiled slightly. “What’s got your panties in a twist?”

Steve snatched his hand back, pushing off Eddie’s couch to stand up. “Nothing, it’s fine. I’m gonna go for this hike, I’ll see you later.”

Eddie frowned, hopping up to block Steve’s path. “On your own?” he questioned.

“Well, you clearly don’t want to go, so…”

Eddie’s face softened. “Steve -”

“No, it’s fine. You hate the outdoors, you hate exercise, you hate…” Steve trailed off.

Eddie reached out, traced a hand across Steve’s cheek. “What, sweetheart?”

Steve sucked in a breath. “You hate everything I like,” he mumbled, not meeting Eddie’s eye.

Eddie’s eyes widened, realization crossing his face. “Stevie…I…I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you wanted to go so badly. Let me just…I’ll get changed, and we’ll go, ok?”

“No, you don’t want to.”

“I do.”

Steve scoffed. “You don’t.”

Eddie nodded slightly, chewed his bottom lip for a moment. “I didn’t want to,” he admitted eventually. “But…you do things you don’t want to do for me all the time, and I know I’m not…as good at doing that as you are. So, the afternoon is yours. You want to hike? We’ll hike. I can’t promise I won’t pass out halfway, but I’ll be there.”

Steve gave him a long look. “You’re sure? And you won’t complain?”

“Well…maybe a little.”

Steve rolled his eyes, waving a hand in frustration.

“Ok!” Eddie back-peddled. “Ok, I won’t. Just…I have one request.”

“What?”

“I want to carry a cool stick.”

*****

Eddie got his stick.

Steve led them on the wooded path that branched off from Lover’s Lake, that looped its way slowly up a hill to a lookout spot over the forest. Eddie traipsed along behind him, swatting at invisible orcs with his stick, occasionally skipping off to one side to pick up and present Steve with various stones and small rocks he found along the way, the ones he deemed pretty enough to gift to him.

Halfway up, despite sweating and breathing a little harder than he should be, (smoker’s lungs, he’d given Steve as an excuse) Eddie seemed to putting in a lot of effort for Steve.

“This is…kinda cool,” he admitted.

“Really?” Steve raised an eyebrow at his boyfriend.

Eddie nodded, whacked at a bush with his stick and grinned. “Yeah. At least it’s shady here too, it’s not so fucking hot.”

Steve smiled. “Told ya. Wait till we get to the top, too. I think you’ll like the view.”

“About that…how much steeper does it get?”

A short time later, and only one little moan from Eddie about the hill, and they broke through the trees and onto a rocky outcrop with a little bench seat. The trees sprawled out below them, shades of brown and burnt orange, Hawkins nestled off to one side.

“Wow,” Eddie breathed, bent over next to Steve with his hands on his knees as he got his breath back.

Steve, not puffed in the least, nodded in agreement. “It’s nice, huh?”

“It’s like…Lothlorien.”

“…sure,” Steve offered, having no idea what his boyfriend was talking about.

Eddie slumped down on the bench seat, fingers tracing over the initials carved everywhere into the old wood.

“You on here, Stevie?” he asked.

Steve nodded, dropping to his knees and searching the edge of the seat for a moment. There, etched permanently into the wood, were the weathered initials S.H.

“Here,” he said.

Eddie smiled, touched his fingers to the marks. Quietly, he scratched his own into the wood with a sharp stick, right next to Steve’s initials.

“Looks good,” Steve observed.

Eddie looked up at him, took his hand. “Steve?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For…not taking enough interest in the things you like.”

Steve sighed, sat down beside him. “You don’t have to, Eds. I know you don’t like a lot of the things I do, it’s -”

“Don’t say it’s ok,” Eddie interrupted, holding his hand tighter. “I mean, maybe I don’t like sport and stuff. But you don’t like D&D, and I know you hate horror movies, but you don’t complain about it, and you always come along even if you don’t enjoy something.”

“I…I like spending time with you,” Steve said quietly.

“I know, and I love you for it.” Eddie’s free hand gripped the edge of the seat. “And…and I like spending time with you too, and I want to be able to do some things that you enjoy too, it’s only fair.”

“Well…did you enjoy this?” Steve asked, almost shyly.

Eddie nodded. “Yeah, actually. Nearly had a heart attack near the top there, but aside from that…” he grinned as he pulled a small laugh from Steve. “I’d like to go again. Wherever you want to go, I’ll be there.”

“I’d like that, Eds.”

“Good.” Eddie dug around in his pocket for a moment, producing a smooth black stone and plopping it into Steve’s hand. “For you,” he said, smiling when Steve turned it over in his fingers.

“It’s cool, Eds. Thanks.”

Eddie’s smile was wider than the sun.

He leant in, kissed Steve long and slow under the fading July sun.

By the time they reached the car again, Steve’s pockets were laden with little stones that had caught Eddie’s eye along the path. Despite them weighing down his shorts, he couldn’t bear to toss any of them away – he’d find somewhere to put them in their room.

As Steve started the beamer, he was surprised to see Eddie eject the Metallica tape in the player and replace it with Steve’s well-loved Tears for Fears one.

He threw a surprised look at Eddie, who shrugged in return.

“It’s well overdue for your turn, sweetheart,” he murmured softly.

As the familiar notes of Head Over Heels spilled over them, Steve reached for Eddie’s hand.

He didn’t let go the whole way home.

___

[astrxq]

Since your request are open and you want to experiment with jace🫣, I was wondering if you could write modern!jace from best friends to lovers, something fluffy and cute<3

Flickers of Friendship

modern!jacaerys velaryon x fem!reader

words: 4.8k

notes: feedback is appreciated!! warnings: making out, aged-up characters.

The gentle hum of the refrigerator filled the kitchen as you stood there, staring blankly at its contents. It was nearly midnight, and the soft glow from inside illuminated your face in the otherwise dark room. You weren't really hungry; it was more of a habitual late-night wandering that brought you here.

"If you stare any harder, you might just melt the ice cream," a familiar voice teased from behind you.

You didn't need to turn around to know it was Jace. His presence was as familiar to you as your own shadow, a constant in your life for as long as you could remember. You could picture the amused smirk on his face without even looking.

"I'm contemplating the mysteries of the universe," you replied dryly, finally closing the fridge door and turning to face him.

Jace was leaning against the doorframe, his dark hair slightly tousled from running his fingers through it – a habit he'd had since you were kids. He wore an old t-shirt and sweatpants, his usual nighttime attire. Even in the dim light filtering in from the living room, you could see the glint of humor in his eyes.

"Ah, yes. The great philosophical question: to snack or not to snack," he quipped, pushing off the doorframe and sauntering into the kitchen. "That is the question."

You rolled your eyes, but couldn't suppress the smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. This was how it always was with Jace – easy banter, comfortable silences, and an inexplicable ability to make you smile even when you were determined not to.

"What are you doing up?" you asked, hopping up to sit on the counter. Your legs dangled, not quite touching the floor.

Jace shrugged, mirroring your position on the opposite counter. "Couldn't sleep."

"Your Spidey senses tingling again?" you joked.

He grinned, tapping his temple. "They're never wrong when it comes to you."

There was a brief pause, a comfortable silence settling between you. It was moments like these that you cherished most – just existing in the same space, no need for words or explanations. You'd known each other for so long that silence was never awkward; it was a shared language of its own.

"So," Jace said after a while, his voice softer now. "What's really keeping you up?"

You sighed, knowing he'd see right through any attempt to deflect. "Just thinking about that group project due next week. I'm worried we won't finish in time."

Jace nodded understandingly. "The one for Professor Harrison's class?" When you confirmed with a nod, he continued, "Want me to take a look at it tomorrow? Two heads are better than one, especially when one of those heads is as brilliant as mine."

You snorted, reaching out to swat his arm playfully. "Your humility never ceases to amaze me."

"M’just stating facts," he defended, catching your hand before you could pull it back. His thumb absently traced circles on your palm, a gesture so natural and familiar that neither of you seemed to notice. "Seriously though, I'd be happy to help if you need it."

The sincerity in his voice made your chest tighten with affection. This was Jace – always ready to lend a hand, always there when you needed him. You squeezed his hand gratefully. "Thanks, Jace. I might take you up on that."

He smiled, a softer version of his usual grin. "Anytime. That's what I'm here for."

You sat there for a moment, hands still linked, before Jace suddenly hopped off the counter. "Come on," he said, tugging you gently off your perch. "If we're going to be up, we might as well do something fun."

"Jace, it's past midnight," you protested weakly, even as you allowed him to lead you to the living room.

"Exactly," he said, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Perfect time for a movie marathon. You pick the first one, I'll make the popcorn."

Before you could argue further, he was already back in the kitchen, the sound of popcorn kernels hitting the bottom of a pot following soon after. You shook your head fondly, knowing resistance was futile. This was classic Jace – spontaneous, thoughtful, and always knowing exactly how to distract you from your worries.

You settled onto the couch, pulling the soft throw blanket over your legs as you scrolled through your shared streaming queue. By the time Jace returned with a large bowl of popcorn, you had picked out an old favorite – a cheesy comedy you'd watched together countless times.

"Excellent choice," Jace approved, setting the bowl on the coffee table before plopping down next to you. Without hesitation, he lifted the edge of the blanket and scooted closer, his warmth seeping into your side.

As the opening credits rolled, you felt the tension from earlier slowly melting away. Jace's arm found its way around your shoulders, a casual gesture that felt as natural as breathing. You leaned into him, your head finding that perfect spot between his shoulder and chest.

"Thanks for this," you murmured, your eyes fixed on the screen but your attention on the steady rhythm of his heartbeat.

Jace's response was to pull you a little closer, his fingers absently playing with a strand of your hair. "Always," he said simply.

And as you sat there, wrapped in the cocoon of warmth and familiarity that was Jace, you couldn't help but think that maybe sleepless nights weren't so bad after all. Not when they led to moments like these – quiet, unassuming, yet somehow more intimate than any grand gesture could ever be.

The movie played on, but neither of you were really watching anymore. You were too caught up in the comfort of each other's presence, in the unspoken understanding that had defined your friendship for years. And if there was a flutter in your chest when Jace's lips brushed against your forehead in a fleeting, almost unconscious gesture – well, that was something to contemplate another time.

The first rays of sunlight filtering through the living room blinds roused you from sleep. For a moment, you were disoriented, unsure why you weren't in your bed. Then you felt the steady rise and fall of Jace's chest beneath your cheek, and the events of last night came rushing back.

You must have fallen asleep during the movie. Jace's arm was still draped around you, his hand resting lightly on your waist. The TV screen had long since gone dark, and the bowl of popcorn sat untouched on the coffee table.

You lay there for a moment, not wanting to disturb the peaceful quiet of the morning or the warmth of Jace's embrace. It wasn't the first time you'd fallen asleep together like this, but something felt different this time. There was a flutter in your stomach that you couldn't quite explain.

Carefully, you tilted your head to look at Jace's sleeping face. His features were relaxed, lips slightly parted, dark lashes fanned against his cheeks. A lock of hair had fallen across his forehead, and you had to resist the urge to brush it away.

As if sensing your gaze, Jace's eyes fluttered open. He blinked a few times, confused, before his eyes found yours. A slow, sleepy smile spread across his face.

"Morning, sunshine," he murmured, his voice husky from sleep.

You felt your cheeks warm at the endearment, even though you knew it was just Jace being Jace. "Morning," you replied softly. "Sorry I fell asleep on you."

Jace's arm tightened around you briefly in a gentle squeeze. "No complaints here. You make an excellent blanket."

You laughed quietly, finally pushing yourself up to a sitting position. Jace followed suit, stretching his arms above his head with a groan. His t-shirt rode up slightly, revealing a sliver of skin above his sweatpants. You quickly averted your eyes, suddenly feeling flustered.

"What time is it?" Jace asked, running a hand through his messy hair.

You glanced at the clock on the wall. "Just past seven."

Jace groaned again, flopping back onto the couch dramatically. "It should be illegal to be awake this early on a Saturday."

"Says the guy who dragged me into a midnight movie marathon," you retorted, poking his side.

He squirmed away from your finger, laughing. "Hey, that was for your own good. Can't have my best friend stressing herself into an early grave."

The fondness in his voice made your heart skip a beat. You stood up quickly, needing to put some distance between you and the confusing feelings swirling in your chest.

"I'm going to make some coffee. Want some?" you asked, already heading towards the kitchen.

"Is that even a question?" Jace called after you. You could hear him getting up from the couch, his footsteps following you into the kitchen.

As you busied yourself with the coffee maker, Jace leaned against the counter beside you, watching your movements with a soft expression you couldn't quite decipher.

"So, any big plans for today?" he asked, reaching past you to grab two mugs from the cabinet. His arm brushed against yours, sending a small shiver down your spine.

You shook your head, both in response to his question and to clear your muddled thoughts. "Not really. I should probably work on that project some more."

Jace nodded, setting the mugs down next to the coffee maker. "Want some company? I meant what I said last night about helping out."

You turned to face him, touched by his offer. "You don't have to do that, Jace. It's your day off too."

He shrugged, a lopsided smile on his face. "What else am I going to do? Besides, I like spending time with you. Even if it involves boring schoolwork."

There was something in his eyes, a warmth that made your breath catch in your throat. For a moment, you just stared at each other, the air between you charged with an energy you couldn't name. The gurgle of the coffee maker broke the spell. You turned back to pour the coffee, grateful for the distraction.

"Okay," you said, handing him a steaming mug. "But fair warning: it might involve a lot of complaining on my part."

Jace's fingers brushed yours as he took the mug, lingering a second longer than necessary. "Bring it on. I happen to be an excellent complaint receptor."

You laughed, "Well, aren't you just the perfect friend? Sacrificing your Saturday for little old me."

"What can I say?" Jace grinned, taking a sip of his coffee. "I live to serve."

"My hero," you deadpanned, but your smile gave you away.

As you both stood there, sipping your coffee and trading playful jabs, you couldn't help but feel a sense of contentment wash over you. This was familiar territory – the easy conversation, the shared laughter, the comfortable silences. But there was also something new simmering beneath the surface, a current of awareness that hadn't been there before.

You found yourself noticing things you'd never paid attention to before – the way Jace's eyes crinkled when he laughed, the dimple that appeared in his left cheek when he smiled, the gentle timbre of his voice when he spoke softly.

It was confusing and exhilarating all at once, and you weren't sure what to make of it. But as Jace launched into a detailed plan for tackling your project, his enthusiasm infectious, you decided to push those thoughts aside for now.

You had a whole day ahead of you, just you and Jace. Whatever these new feelings were, they could wait. For now, you were content to bask in the warmth of his presence and the promise of his company.

The morning sun climbed higher in the sky as you and Jace settled into your shared workspace – the small dining table tucked into the corner of your apartment. Books and papers were strewn across its surface, your laptop open to a half-finished document. Jace sat beside you, close enough that your elbows occasionally brushed as you worked.

"Okay, so walk me through what you've got so far," Jace said, leaning in to look at your screen. His proximity sent a small thrill through you, one that you tried to ignore as you began explaining your project.

As you talked, Jace listened intently, his brow furrowed in concentration. It was a look you'd seen countless times before, but today it made your heart skip a beat. You found yourself stumbling over your words, distracted by the way his hair fell across his forehead, the sharp line of his jaw, the warmth of his arm against yours.

"...and that's where I'm stuck," you finished, realizing you'd been rambling. "I just can't figure out how to tie it all together."

Jace nodded thoughtfully, then turned to face you. His knee bumped yours under the table, and neither of you moved to break the contact. "I think I see the problem," he said, his voice low and close. "You're trying to connect too many ideas at once. What if we approach it from a different angle?"

He reached for your laptop, his hand brushing yours as he took control of the touchpad. You inhaled sharply at the contact, a jolt of electricity running through you. If Jace noticed your reaction, he didn't show it, instead focusing on rearranging the sections of your document.

As he worked, explaining his thought process, you found yourself watching him more than the screen. The way his lips moved as he spoke, the little crease between his eyebrows when he concentrated, the gentle timbre of his voice – it was all suddenly, intensely fascinating.

"What do you think?" Jace asked, turning to you with an expectant smile. You blinked, realizing you hadn't heard a word he'd said.

"Uh, could you repeat that?" you asked, feeling heat rise to your cheeks. "I think I zoned out for a second."

Jace's smile turned teasing. "Am I boring you already? And here I thought I was being brilliantly insightful."

You laughed, shoving his shoulder playfully. "You? Brilliant? Never."

"You wound me," Jace clutched his chest dramatically. "After all my hard work and dedication."

"Your ego will survive," you retorted, but there was no bite to your words. Just fondness, warm and familiar.

Jace's expression softened, his eyes meeting yours. For a moment, neither of you spoke, caught in a gaze that felt charged with unspoken words. Your heart raced, and you found yourself leaning in slightly, drawn by some invisible force.

The sudden blare of Jace's phone alarm shattered the moment. You both jumped, the spell broken.

"Shit," Jace muttered, fumbling for his phone. "I forgot I promised to call my mom this morning."

You nodded, trying to ignore the pang of disappointment in your chest. "Go ahead," you said, gesturing to his room. "I'll keep working on this."

Jace hesitated, looking torn. "You sure? I can reschedule..."

"Don't be silly," you insisted, mustering a smile. "Go talk to your mom. I'll be fine."

He nodded, getting up from the table. But before he left, he paused, his hand resting on your shoulder. "Thanks," he said softly, giving you a gentle squeeze. The warmth of his touch lingered even after he'd disappeared into his room.

You stared at your laptop screen, trying to focus on the work in front of you. But your mind kept wandering back to the moment before the interruption. What had that been? The way Jace had looked at you, the way your body had gravitated towards his... it felt different from your usual interactions, charged with a tension you couldn't quite name.

Shaking your head, you forced yourself to concentrate on the project. It was probably nothing, you told yourself. Just your imagination running wild after a night of little sleep and too much closeness.

But as you worked, you couldn't shake the feeling that something had shifted between you and Jace. Whether it was a momentary blip or the start of something more, only time would tell.

An hour passed before Jace emerged from his room, looking slightly harried. "Sorry about that," he said, running a hand through his hair. "Mom got chatty."

You smiled, understanding all too well. "No worries. How is she?"

"Good," Jace replied, dropping back into the chair beside you. "She says hi, by the way. Asked when you're coming to visit again."

A warm feeling spread through your chest at the mention. Jace's family had always treated you like one of their own, ever since you were kids. "Tell her soon," you said. "I miss her cooking."

Jace laughed. "I'll let her know. She'll be thrilled – you know she loves feeding people."

As Jace settled back into work mode, you found yourself stealing glances at him. The easy familiarity between you was still there, but now it was tinged with something else. An awareness that hadn't been there before, a hyper-consciousness of every move, every touch.

You worked side by side for the next few hours, the project slowly taking shape under your combined efforts. Jace's insights proved invaluable, his unique perspective helping you overcome the roadblocks you'd been struggling with.

As the afternoon wore on, you found yourself relaxing into the rhythm of your collaboration. The earlier tension faded, replaced by the comfortable synchronicity you'd always shared. Yet, there was a new undercurrent to your interactions – a lingering touch here, a prolonged gaze there, moments of silence that felt heavy with unspoken words.

By the time the sun began to dip towards the horizon, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink, you'd made significant progress on the project.

"I think that's enough for today," Jace said, stretching his arms above his head. His shirt rode up slightly, revealing a strip of skin that you found yourself staring at before quickly averting your eyes.

"Yeah," you agreed, saving the document and closing your laptop. "Thanks for your help, Jace. I don't know what I'd do without you."

Jace's expression softened, a gentle smile playing on his lips. "Anytime," he said softly. "That's what I'm here for."

There was something in his voice, a tenderness that made your breath catch. You looked up, meeting his gaze, and for a moment, the world seemed to narrow down to just the two of you.

The moment stretched, full of possibility. You found yourself leaning in slightly, drawn by some invisible force. Jace mirrored your movement, his eyes flickering briefly to your lips before meeting your gaze again.

Your heart raced, a mix of excitement and nervousness coursing through you. Was this really happening? Were you and Jace about to...?

The sharp ring of the doorbell made you both jump, the moment shattering like glass. You jerked back, nearly toppling your chair in your haste.

"I'll get it," Jace said quickly, already on his feet and heading for the door. You watched him go, your heart still pounding, mind reeling from what had almost happened.

As Jace's voice mingled with that of your neighbor, asking to borrow some sugar, you took a deep breath, trying to calm your racing thoughts. What had that been? Were you imagining things, or had Jace been about to kiss you?

And more importantly, why did a part of you wish the doorbell hadn't rung?

The days stretched into weeks, each one a delicate dance of unspoken words and lingering glances. Your relationship with Jace remained as close as ever, yet there was an undercurrent of something new, something neither of you dared to name.

One lazy Sunday afternoon, you found yourself sprawled on the living room floor, textbooks and notes scattered around you. Jace was nearby, lounging on the couch with his laptop, occasionally mumbling to himself as he worked on an assignment.

"Hey," you called out, not looking up from your notes. "What's another word for 'fundamental'?"

"Hmm," Jace mused. You could hear the smile in his voice as he replied, "Crucial?”

With a nod, you turned back to your essay, you forced yourself to pretend not to have caught Jace looking at you with an expression you couldn't quite decipher. It was soft, almost wistful, and it made your heart do a funny little flip in your chest. But before you could analyze it further, he had already returned his attention to his laptop, leaving you to wonder if you'd imagined it.

The moment passed, as so many similar moments had over the past few weeks. Yet each one left a lingering warmth, like the afterglow of a sunset, building slowly into something you weren't quite ready to name.

Days turned into nights, filled with shared meals, late-night study sessions, and the comfortable silences that only come with true familiarity. You found yourself noticing little things about Jace that you'd never paid attention to before – the way he always made sure to make extra coffee for you in the morning, how he'd absently hum while doing the dishes, the gentle way he'd touch your shoulder when passing by.

One evening, as you both prepared dinner in the small kitchen, you reached for a spice jar at the same moment Jace did. Your hands brushed, and you felt that now-familiar jolt of electricity. You both froze for a moment, eyes meeting over the cluttered countertop.

"Sorry," Jace murmured, his voice low. "You go ahead."

You nodded, unable to form words, and grabbed the jar. As you turned back to the stove, you could feel Jace's gaze on you, heavy with unspoken thoughts. You almost forgot what you needed the jar for, too caught up in the moment.

These moments became more frequent, each one a tiny spark adding to a slowly building fire. A lingering touch while passing the salt at dinner. A shared laugh over an inside joke that left you both breathless. The way Jace's eyes would soften when he looked at you, thinking you wouldn't notice.

You found yourself seeking out these moments, craving the warmth they brought. Yet neither of you took that final step, both hesitant to disturb the delicate balance of your friendship.

As midterms approached, the atmosphere in your apartment grew tenser, filled with the stress of impending exams. You spent long hours hunched over textbooks, your mind a whirl of facts and figures. Jace was equally busy, but he always seemed to sense when you needed a break.

One night, as you sat at the dining table, staring blankly at your notes, Jace appeared beside you. Without a word, he gently closed your textbook and tugged you to your feet.

"Come on," he said softly. "You need a break."

Too tired to argue, you let him lead you to the living room. He sat you down on the couch, disappeared into the kitchen, and returned moments later with two steaming mugs of hot chocolate.

As you sipped the sweet drink, Jace put on a movie. He settled beside you on the couch, close enough that you could feel the warmth of his body. It all felt too familiar, making you remember the last time you fell asleep together.

Halfway through the movie, you felt your eyelids growing heavy. Without thinking, you leaned into Jace, your head finding that perfect spot between his shoulder and chest. His arm came around you, holding you close, and you felt him press a soft kiss to the top of your head.

The movie's credits rolled, but neither of you moved. Your eyes were closed, Jace's steady heartbeat a soothing rhythm beneath your ear. His fingers traced lazy patterns on your arm, sending shivers down your spine.

"We should probably get some sleep," Jace murmured, his voice a low rumble in his chest.

You nodded but made no effort to move. "Probably," you agreed softly.

Another moment passed in comfortable silence. Then, slowly, you lifted your head to look at him. Jace's eyes met yours, dark and intense in the dim light of the TV screen. Something in his gaze made your breath catch in your throat.

"Jace," you whispered, barely audible.

His hand came up to cup your cheek, thumb brushing lightly across your skin. "Yeah?" he breathed, leaning in slightly.

Your heart raced as you tilted your face towards his, drawn by an invisible force. Time seemed to slow as the distance between you narrowed, until finally, finally, his lips met yours.

The first touch was soft, tentative, a gentle press of lips that sent sparks coursing through your body. For a moment, you both hesitated, teetering on the edge of this new territory. Then, as if a dam had broken, the kiss deepened.

Jace's hand slid into your hair, cradling the back of your head as he pulled you closer. Your fingers gripped his shirt, anchoring yourself as the world seemed to spin around you. His lips moved against yours with growing urgency, years of unspoken feelings pouring out in a rush of passion.

You gasped softly as Jace's tongue traced the seam of your lips, seeking entrance. Without hesitation, you granted it, meeting his tongue with your own. The taste of him – a hint of chocolate and something uniquely Jace – made you dizzy with want.

The kiss was everything you'd never let yourself imagine and more. It was the comfort of years of friendship mixed with the thrill of new discovery. Jace kissed like he did everything else – with full dedication and a hint of playfulness. His teeth grazed your bottom lip, drawing a small sound from you that he swallowed eagerly. 

Your hands roamed, one sliding up to tangle in his hair, the other tracing the strong line of his jaw. Jace's free hand found your waist, fingers slipping under the hem of your shirt to caress the skin beneath. His touch left trails of fire in its wake, igniting every nerve ending.

When you finally broke apart, both gasping for air, Jace rested his forehead against yours. His eyes, when they fluttered open, were dark with desire, but there was also a softness there that made your heart ache.

"Hey," he breathed, a smile tugging at his lips.

You couldn't help but laugh softly, feeling giddy and overwhelmed. "Hi," you agreed. 

Jace's thumb stroked your cheek as he gazed at you with wonder. "I've wanted to do that for so long," he admitted.

Your heart soared at his words. "Me too," you confessed. "I just... I was afraid of ruining what we had."

"Nothing could ruin us," Jace said with conviction. He leaned in, pressing a soft, sweet kiss to your lips.

This time when your lips met, it was slower, deeper. A promise and an exploration. Jace took his time, mapping every contour of your mouth with his tongue, drawing soft sighs and quiet moans from you. Your fingers trailed down his neck, feeling his pulse race beneath your touch.

When you finally parted, you were both breathless and flushed. Jace's hair was mussed from your fingers, his lips swollen from your kisses. You imagined you looked much the same.

"Jace," you whispered again, more firmly this time, seeking his eyes. He looked at you with such tenderness that it nearly took your breath away. "What happens now?"

His expression softened further, a small, reassuring smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “Isn’t it obvious?”

Jace's smile widened, and he pressed another kiss to your forehead before pulling back slightly, giving you space but not letting go. "We should really get some sleep," he repeated, though his tone held a note of reluctance.

You nodded, feeling the fatigue of the long day catch up with you again. "Yeah, sleep sounds good."

With a soft chuckle, Jace helped you to your feet. You both moved slowly, almost reluctantly, as if savoring every moment of this new closeness. He led you to your bedroom, his hand warm and steady in yours.

As you stood together at the threshold of your bedroom, Jace's hand still gently holding yours, there was a moment of hesitation. The unspoken question lingered in the air – should he stay or go to his own room?

Breaking the silence, Jace gave your hand a reassuring squeeze and leaned in, placing a tender kiss on your forehead. 

"I'll let you get some rest," he murmured softly, his voice filled with warmth and affection. "Goodnight."

You felt a pang of longing at the thought of him leaving, but you knew that tonight was just the beginning of something new and beautiful between you. With a small smile, you replied, "Goodnight, Jace."

He lingered for a moment, his gaze searching yours as if to reassure himself of your mutual understanding. Then, reluctantly, he released your hand and turned to leave. As he walked down the hallway towards his own room, you couldn't help but watch him go, heart fluttering with giddiness.

[kayhi808]

First Crush - 3

*Abby's sticker to Bucky*

After work, the Avengers are relaxing in the common room or playing pool like Clint & Bucky. Hitting Bucky on the shoulder, "I heard lunch was entertaining", Sam enters the room with Nat.

Bucky glares a Nat. "What? I couldn't help it. It was so cute."

"Cute? Are we talking about Miss Abigail Rose?" Steve smirks at Bucky leaning up against the wall by the pool table.

"Who is Abigail Rose?" Clint cocks an eyebrow at Bucky.

Natasha leans in excited to tell the story, "Fury's new assistant got called in today and she had to bring her daughter to work with her. Just cute as can be. Sweet and precocious. She had stickers all over her shirt. How old was she?"

"Two? Three maybe?"

"Adorable! Made a beeline straight to Bucky." Bucky tries to concentrate on his shot while shaking his head but the tips of his ears are turning red.

Incredulously, "Wouldn't give me the time of day," Steve acts disgruntled & shocked.

Sam teases,"You weren't her type. She's into Cyborgs."

Steve laughs, "You're right because she loved the arm! The arm was so pretty. 'I loves it!' "

"Poor mom was so embarrassed. Abby didn't want to leave Buck's side. Finally before she left she peels off a sticker from her shirt and sticks it to his arm."

Sam nods, "It was the 2yr old version of giving someone your insta." They laughs at Bucky's expense and Buck rolls his eyes.

Most people are afraid of him. He doesn't need to threaten or say anything for people to stay away. He did not have that affect on Abby. She didn't fear him at all. She seeked him out. Her tiny body leaning against him. She didn't cringe at the feel of cold metal. Her little fingers traced the gold detail on his arm.

Nat grabs Buck's arm, "Aw, where's the sticker?" Turning it, this way and that. "You lost it," Nat frowns.

Bucky pulls out his ID card and shows them the back where he stashed Abby's sticker, joining in with their laughter. "They were cute."

Clint catches him, "They??"

"She."

"Uh uh, man. You said they."

Natasha smiles slyly, ready to play matchmaker. "Y/N is gorgeous!" Bucky shrugs yet nods staring at the sticker before shoving the card back in his pocket.

*****

Some days are such a struggle. You never would have thought you'd be a widow with a baby to raise by yourself. Abby's father was a pilot in the Air Force. That's what attracted you to begin with. The image of a sexy daring fighter pilot. Things Jason did or talked about were so exciting. He was an adrenaline junkie for sure. Which is fun for a boyfriend, but not the best for a husband & father.

Now, its just you and Abby fending for yourselves. This job with the Avengers was heaven sent. It was so hard to make ends meet but now that you're with the Avengers, a huge weight has been lifted from your shoulders. You'll be able to give Abby a better life. Yet, sometimes just the day-to-day chores overwhelm you.

You finished getting yourself ready for work and started tackling the task of getting Abby ready for daycare. You brush Abby's hair trying to get it into a ponytail. Don't know why you go through the effort, because it's just going to fall out by midday after playing and naptime. "Mama?"

"Yes?"

"Today is school day?"

"Yes. You get to go to daycare and see Ms. Grace and all your friends."

"Mama?"

"Yes?"

"Remember the man with the pretty arm?" She tries to turn around to face you and you have to face her forward so you can get the ponytail up.

"Yes, I do."

"Me, too." You nod, knowing where this is heading already. "Mama?"

"Yes?"

"Mr S'gent don't go daycare."

"No, he doesn't. He's a grown-up. He goes to work." Finishing her hair, you carry her back to the room to put on her shoes.

"Mama?"

Rolling your eyes, "Yes?"

"I'm not a grows up."

Sitting her on the bed you kneel before her to put on her socks & shoes, "Grown-up. No. You are my baby."

"Mama?"

"Abby Rose!" Making wide eyes at her, "You are making Mama crazy." Abby laughs and pats your head.

"Mama?"

"Yesssss, Abby. What?"

She places her little hands on each of your cheeks, "Cans I go to work with yous?" She gives you the most angelic smile. You growl, picking her up & throwing her over your shoulder. She screams and giggles. "Mama!!!"

Bringing her down, to prop her on your hip, grabbing her backpack & your bag to make the trek to her daycare which luckily is only a couple blocks away. "You need to go to daycare."

"But...but...I wants to be with yous," she pouts.

"But...but...NO. You don't want to be with me. You want to see Sargent Barnes." She throws her head back and laughs with a cackle. You shake your head at her. Excuse me, Lil Miss! Who's child is this??

"Mamaaa."

"Abbyyyy." You laugh but sober up, "I'm sorry, baby, but no. You need to go to school."

"But...but...what if he forgets me."

"He will never forget you. He has your sticker. He has your drawing."

She puts her thumb in her mouth & nods her head, but she looks sad. She rests her head on your shoulder for the rest of the walk to daycare.

Next Chapter

@waywardhunter95 @wintrsoldrluvr @rebeccapineapple @ordelixx @onceithough @crazyunsexycool @thezombieprostitute

[heartfeltchris]

𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐦𝐚𝐦𝐚 ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･ 𝐜𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐨

𝒊𝒏 𝒘𝒉𝒊𝒄𝒉 . . . you and chris decide to chill at your house, a daily occurrence as you guys are close friends. however, a hangout session that was supposed to just involve smoking and listening to music has an unexpected twist.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: drug use, mature language, making out, dom!chris, inexperienced!reader ( read at your own risk )

— my first time publishing a piece of writing on here, kinda scared. but enjoy! i chose to go for something without smut for my first work but trust me, it’s coming soon.

“fuck that’s strong,” you breathe out, leaning on the headboard of your bed as chris sits opposite you. your legs are draped over his while he’s, resting his back on the wall.

i’m in love when we are smoking that la-la-la-la-la

i’m in love when we are smoking that la-la-la-la-la

chris chuckles quietly, taking the j from your hand and placing it between his lips. you watch how effortlessly he sucks in the smoke, holding it in his mouth for a couple seconds before pulling it into his lungs. his other hand casually falls to your thigh, drawing circles.

i’m in love when we are smoking that la-la-la-la-la

i’m in love when we are smoking that la-la-la-la-la

at first you don’t react since this isn’t the first time chris has been extra touchy with you. obviously you don’t mind it; you guys have been friends for years as well as his brothers and the weed you’re smoking may be clouding your judgement. but examining his perfect bone structure as his jaw tenses, you can’t help but feel slight attraction towards him.

I'm in love when we are smoking that la-la-la-la-la

I'm in love when we are smoking that la-la-la-la-la

he’s basically like your dorky older brother and it sucks that he looks so fucking good right now. his hair peeks out under his beanie while his eyes become slightly glossy, visible as he slowly glances at you. “fuck…” he drags out his words, placing the joint in the conveniently placed ashtray. “you look like shit,” chris teases and you roll your eyes, kicking his leg.

I'm in love when we are smoking that la-la-la-la-la

I'm in love when we are smoking that la-la-la-la-la

you put your hand out, gesturing for him to pass it back to you, and he does. you take the j between your fingertips, placing it between your lips drenched in lip gloss. as your attention is glued to the pictures of yourself and the triplets decorating your pink walls, you don’t even realize chris’ eyes tracing your collar bone, his gaze continuing. his gaze then falls to your chest, a small amount of cleavage exposed due to the vest you’re wearing. see, you don’t feel the need to cover up around chris since you guys are close and he even feels slightly dirty staring at you in such a way.

do what you want

i’m telling you

let me into your heart

your head whips around to face the boy sitting near you, narrowing your eyes as you follow his stare to your chest. “ew, you perv. my eyes are up here,” you tease him and he mentally slaps himself in the face. but you examine his facial expression, noticing how he doesn’t even care that you caught him.

can’t stand it, backhanded

they wanna see us falling apart

“my bad,” he mutters, being slightly respectful. chris slowly glides his tongue across his bottom lip, trying to restrain himself from saying something he’ll probably regret later. “don’t you think it’s crazy how we’ve never kissed before?” chris randomly questions and your eyes widen.

you know that I love you

so let me into you, woo

you place the j back in the ashtray, shrugging but also leaning back. yes, you may smoke regularly but you’re just as inexperienced as someone who doesn’t. you haven’t even had your first kiss yet and you’re eighteen which is slightly embarrassing to you.

let me into your heart

do you really love me?

i’ma get you, girl, ah

“yeah…” you lie, assuming that chris is just trying to make fun of you and your lack of sexual experiences. “it’s weird, i guess. since we’ve been friends for so long.”

this is the end of us

sleeping with the moon and the stars

chris places his hand on your thigh, slowly nodding as he intensely stares at you. you can tell he has something to say, and you’re anticipating a question that you think he’s about to ask. “you don’t want any practice? i’m always here, you know,” he says with a shit-eating grin, making you purse your lips.

i know where you've been, oh

you can see us far then near

kissing chris wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. the only negative part of it is that chris is a player to say the least. he regularly talks to girls and you only know this because he literally tells you whenever he does something with a girl, only because you would understand how she feels. so obviously, that means that kissing him wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.

let me into your heart

oh, this ain't no bullshit

you sigh, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth. ‘it’s only a kiss’, you repeat to yourself. chris watches your every move, noticing how you seem hesitant at first. but one part of you is also yearning for his lips to be on yours.

i really love you, girl

oh, oh god

you shuffle around on your bed, crawling towards chris and sitting right next to him. “just practice?” you ask for reassurance and he nods his head.

girl, you really got a hold on me

so this isn't just puppy love

“i’ll guide you,” he mumbles, his eyes red from the amount of weed he smoked. you clear your throat, watching as he places one of your hands on his hardening cock. “sorry, you cool with that?” he questions and you slowly nod. chris then places the other one on his jaw.

girl, you really got a hold on me

so this isn't just puppy love, oh

his hand easily reaches for your throat, resting it for extra support as if he’s done this a million time, which he probably has. chris leans in slowly, grazing his lips against yours, you feeling his breath against them. ultimately, he closes the distance and you feel your heart hammer against your ribcage.

i’m in love when we are smoking that (woo, ooh)

oh my god, i

the kiss is slow and sensual at first, your body getting used to this odd feeling of butterflies fluttering around. it’s like a whole zoo breaks out in your stomach, feeling as his hand falls to your waist, pulling you closer towards him.

let me in

girl, you really got a hold, woo

you’re strongly enjoying what he’s doing, feeling every sort of positive emotion possible. chris tilts his head, maintaining his lips on yours. you melt at his touch, speeding up to try and figure out the perfect speed. he pulls away for a second, “slower,” he whispers and you nod.

your hand remains on his clothed dick, feeling it twitch as you continue to kiss. you’re not sure if it’s caused by the weed or you, but whichever one it is you don’t mind. as you continue to kiss, chris feels an urge to do something else. he pulls away, his icy blue eyes full of hunger as he places sloppy, wet kisses on you neck.

he pushes you down gently, still peppering kisses all over your skin. your breath hitches as you feel his lips latch onto your neck, sucking harshly and occasionally biting — you whimpering at his touch. you’re unsure on what he’s trying to do, enjoying it nonetheless. your hands reach to grab the back of his head, strongly tugging at his brunette hair.

chris groans on your skin, sending vibrations in your body and you ultimately know that’s his weakness. chris then moves slightly, diving into the other side of your neck. you part your lips, squeezing your eyes shut at the sensational feeling of sharing this moment with christopher sturniolo.

but eventually he pulls away, admiring his work. you open his eyes, watching as he pants while his eyes flicker between the two dark marks on both sides of your neck. it hurts slightly, but the pleasure from chris and the his actions was enough to distract you from it.

you lean up, watching the grin grow on his face. “not bad for your first time,” he jokes and you roll your eyes.

𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬 — something a little casual for my first tumblr post. more to come soon! reminder that my inbox is open for requests. 🍓🐇

tags ( @bugeyedgrl )

[sheeple]

Heirs of Hogwarts | part 3

Genre(s): Nuisance to Lovers / Fake dating / Fluff / No Voldy au Fandom(s): Harry Potter Pairing(s): Mattheo Riddle x Hufflepuff!Reader Summary: After finding out your (now ex)boyfriend cheated on you with the girl he told you not to worry about, you decide to get into a fake relationship with the kid of another founder of Hogwarts. What could go wrong? Warning(s): Matt's thirsty (but so are you also lowkey) / Awkward family moments / Visuals (Don't like them? Don't use them🤷🏻‍♀️) / I suck at writing kiss scenes (yes it's happening) / it's spicy but not full on smut (smut adjacent) A/n: For now this is the end of the mini-series. Thank you all for enjoying my story and see you all in the next one! [Masterlist] [HoH masterlist]

Normally you would love to be proven right. Revel in the knowledge that they should have listened to you. But now? Fuck being right. You don't want to right. 

You've been carrying the letter with you for a couple of days and the weight of it makes your schoolbag makes it feel like it's filled with bricks. The letter is weighing you down, and everybody around you seems to notice it. Especially Mattheo. You still hang out with him, of course, but every time the words are on the tip of your tongue, you chicken out.

"Have you told him yet?", asks Susan as she sees you reading the letter again during lunch.

Giving her a frowned look, you shake your head. How in Merlin's name can you inform him that 'hey, my parents want to meet you because Meemaw saw us sneak into my dorm. Now they think we are together and having sex and want to meet the hypothetical father of my hypothetical baby if we were actually having hypothetical sex and not being careful. All hypothetically of course. Why else would I sneak a boy into my dorm?' 

Not casually at least. 

You look over towards his table and meet his eyes. He motions with his head towards the door. You nod with a small smile and finish your juice. "See you in class."

"Have fun with your boyfriend!", she calls after you and you flip her off. 

"What was all that about?", asks Mattheo with a small smile while the two of you walk side by side towards Herbology. 

You shrug, scratching the nailbed of your thumb. You feel a sharp pain but you continue. You know now more than ever that this is the time. "I've... I've received a letter. From my parents." You fish the letter out of your bag and hold it out for him.

Mattheo stops and looks unsurely towards the folded-up paper. When you give him a nod he unfolds the letter. You watch nervously how his eyes scan over the words.

When he stays silent, you begin to panic. "We- you don't have to! I can totally write my parents back and tell them... something! That we broke up or whatever."

"You've got nieces?" He's got a soft smile on his face as he traces the embellishments of the letter. Of course, the stationery of House Hufflepuff has its letters decorated to match the vibe of the family name.

With a shake of your head, you run a hand over your hair. "Out of everything... the thing you focus on is my nieces? Not that fact that my parents want to meet you?"

Mattheo shrugs, handing you the letter back. "Yeah, so what? That's what boyfriends do, don't they? Meet their girlfriend's parents. Fake relationship or not. Wasn't it your parents you wanted to fool?"

That shuts you up and a flaring heat spreads over your face and neck, even towards the points of your ears. "I-I yeah... But I never imagined them doing this! Then I would have never done all this to you!" With a guilty look, you slowly reach for one of his hands. You rub slow circles over the back of his hand.

Mattheo's brain short circuits as his eyes focus on your hand and his. How soft the pad of your thumb feels against his skin. He wonders if your hands feel as soft on different parts of his body. Or how sharp your nails feel when you scratch his back.

He snaps out of it and shakes his head. Taking his chance, he turns his hand around and laces his fingers with yours. "So... how do I leave a good impression on your parents?"

You think for a moment, looking away. "As superficial as it sounds, they put great value in looking a certain way." In that way they're just like other pure-blood families, you want to add but don't. You don't want to offend him or his family.

With a determent nod, Mattheo starts walking the opposite way you were going, pulling you behind him.

"Where are you taking me? Divination is that way", you point over your shoulder as you catch up to him.

Mattheo gives you a daring smile, his eyes wrinkling playfully. "My dorm. I need your advice on what to wear."

You protest and sputter about your attendance all the way towards the Slytherin dungeons. A snake made of metal rises from the ground and reveals a set of double doors. "Pure-Blood", says Mattheo and the doors swing open. You give him a look and he shrugs. "It's the password. Nothing I can do about it."

"I said nothing!", you laugh, being pulled through the entrance

The common area looks like it's carved out of rock, with marble pillars and arches. Large windows give you a look into the endless depth of the Black Lake, fish swimming by. It takes your breath away how stunning the Slytherin common room looks. It's oh so different from your own, but just as beautiful.

You try to ignore the stares you get from the Slytherin's around the room. You do stand out like a sore thumb with your sunshine yellow robes.

"Don't you ever need to pee very much when you are in the common area?", you ask, motioning towards the waterfall you circle as you enter the common room and the many water features around.

Mattheo rolls his eyes with a smile as he leads you down a corridor and holds open the door for you to enter his dorm. Four four-poster beds with green drapes are arranged in a circle with a heater in the middle of the room, spreading warmth around the room. He motions for you to sit on his bed while he rummages through his closet.

You lean back on your hands as you watch him pull one after the other crumbled-up shirt and pants out of the closet. He sends you a slightly embarrassed look and you hop off his bed.

"Let me have a look", you say softly, pushing him to the side.

"I'm sorry... It's a bit of a mess." He scratches the back of his neck as a slight blush colours his cheeks. 

You wave his worries away as you spot a nice pair of jeans and a not-too-crumpled black shirt. It could totally work paired with a dark green jacket. You lay out the pieces on his bed and look proudly between the outfit and Mattheo. It's something you're parents would approve of while still being himself

"If you wear this with the shirt tucked in and your hair just styled like you always do, everything will be okay." You turn towards him with a smile. 

While you were arranging the clothes, Mattheo snuck closer to you. He now stands so close to you, that you can smell his cologne. Your lips part as you look up at him. "Matt?", you whisper as he slowly cradles your face with both of his hands.

His eyes flicker from your eyes towards your mouth. Your eyes flutter closed as you feel soft puffs of breath on your face.

Mere millimetres before his lips touch yours, the door swings open and the two of you jump away from each other. "God fucking damn it", you hear him grumble under his breath as Enzo and Draco stand in the doorway.

The two boys look at you with wide eyes before Draco's expression morphs into something more teasing. "I hope we didn't interrupt anything", he says slyly, sending a smirk towards Mattheo. Who gives the blond a scalding glare.

Feeling way too awkward about the situation, you quickly gather your things. "I-I have to go. I wouldn't want to be late for my next class." Giving Mattheo a shy smile, you rush out of his dorm and the Slytherin common room — almost stumbling down and then up the stairs. 

Once you deem yourself far away enough, you slump against a wall and cup your scorching hot cheeks. Your heart beats wildly in your chest... and somewhere else. Did that really just happen? Or almost? In Merlin's name, when did you get so hot and bothered about Mattheo Riddle? Not long ago he was a nuisance to you. And now? Now you've almost kissed two times and he's meeting your parents this weekend.

When you close your eyes you still see Mattheo's warm honey ones, looking at you with such softness and want- no need. 

Gods.

Shaking your head, you steady yourself and with slightly unsteady legs you walk towards Arithmancy.

Meanwhile, back in the boy's dorm, Mattheo collapses onto his bed and curses out his friends. "Fucking twats!" He presses the balls of his hands into his eyes, frustration running rampant through his body. 

This was the second time someone interrupted him trying to kiss you. Just when he has gathered the courage to do so. First your friends and now his own. Who out there has it so out for him to cockblock him two times.

Draco and Enzo just look with high amusement towards their frustrated-to-no-end friend. They're gonna take this moment and tease him forever with it.

You don't get a chance to talk to Mattheo about the kiss. To talk to him in general. Because every time the two of you spot each other, either his or your friends wisk you away and it's driving you mad. It's like they planned it together or something.

It makes you all sulky because you want to discuss what happened between the two of you multiple times. You want answers — which you are lowkey scared of. But it's better to rip the bandage off quickly and get your heart broken than live with questions and never get an answer.

You walk into the Great Hall that Saturday, your fingers anxiously clawing at the nailbeds. But you've taken precautions and bandaged up your thumbs so you can't scratch. The pain stays but there's no blood.

"Don't you look all lovely", smiles Hanah brightly, making you twirl. 

You smile and show her a cheeky leg as the split in your skirt falls perfectly when you sit. "Well...", you let out a nervous sigh, "Matt's meeting my parents today. So, we have to look the part, don't we?"

Your friends' eyes bulge out at the nickname you gave Slytherin bad boy Mattheo Riddle. Nobody ever dared to call him anything other than his name. 

"Is that why he was not-so-subtly sneaking glances at us before you came?", wonders Susan out loud, which makes you tense up.

Looking at the Slytherin table, you find Mattheo easily. He gives a small wave with a smile and you return the gestures. "I'm going to sit over there. I have to prepare him from the wolves."

Slowly, you rise from your table and walk to the other side of the Great Hall. You feel the eyes of the Hufflepuff's and Slytherin's on you. But the only important ones are Mattheo's liquid honey ones, who look at you in wonder.

"Hi", you whisper when you finally reach him.

"Hi", he whispers back, a wide smile on his face.

"Can I sit with you?"

Without hesitation, he nods and slides to the side, almost shoving Enzo into Blaise's lap. He pats the now-empty spot next to him and you swing your leg over the bench. Mattheo zero's in on your bare leg and his brain shortcircuits.

You try to ignore the weird looks the Slytherin's present are giving you as you reach over and grab a piece of toast. You meet Hannah and Susan's eyes from across the room and they give you enthusiastic thumbs-up.

Swallowing your bite, you turn towards the boy next to you to say something. But your words die on your tongue at the look Mattheo gives you. It's unreadable. But not bad unreadable. There is some fondness in there you believe. "I have to warn you, by the way."

He cocks his head to the side, an easy smile on his face. "For your parents?"

A snort escapes you and you shake your head. "No- well... maybe my dad will grill you. But my brothers are way worse. They will either try to embarrass me or you."

"How many do you have?"

"Brothers? Four. There's a twin pair in there too. They are the second youngest after me."

Mattheo pales slightly. Four brothers? He found Thomas already trouble enough. But Four? He knows he's in for some shit.

You can't help but laugh as he visibly pales. Taking his hand, you pat it. You look around the Slyherin's. They all look very amused at Mattheo's despair.

The two of you finish your breakfast before it's time to go. Your parents expect you for lunch but knowing your family, there's not going to be time during just lunch. 

"How are we getting to your home?", questions Mattheo as you both walk through the halls towards Professor Sproud's office. 

You knock on the door and when there's no answer, you enter the room. "Via portkey. Which should arrive any second now." And like you said, a little yellow cup appears on the desk. 

Placing a hand on the cup, you hold the other out for him to take. Mattheo does so and the two of you are whisked away from the castle.

You stumble for a second before you find your footing. Taking a deep breath, your senses fill with the floral aroma of your home. It feels good to be back.

"Holy fucking shit", you hear Mattheo whisper under his breath as he looks at the estate your family owns. It looks centuries old, with ivy covering most of the outer walls. A sprawling garden buzzes with bees and butterflies. A fountain is heard somewhere in the back.

You feel slightly embarrassed at Mattheo's slack jaw. This is mostly the reason why you never told about or took anyone home. The house mansion has been in your family's name for centuries. It's said that Meemaw bought it, but there's no proof of it.

"Come on." You tug him by his hand towards the front door. Mattheo's too caught up by the exterior of the house that he bumps into you when you stop in front of the front door. "Ready?", you ask, and he shakes his head.

As you ring the bell, Mattheo looks at the inscribing above the door. "Dum spiro spero, vi et animo. What does that mean?"

"As long as I breathe I hope, with strength and courage", says your father as he opens the door with a wide smile. "It's our family's motto. Nice to meet you, son." He holds out his hand for Mattheo to shake.

As he pulls the boy inside, you try your bestest to not cringe. "Dad this is Mattheo. My boyfriend." You shyly glance towards Mattheo to gauge his reaction. A slight blush paints his cheeks and you bite your lip hiding your smile.

Your dad shakes the dark-haired boy's hand enthusiastically. He starts to ramble off about the family motto and what it means and it morphs into an in-depth history lesson about the house. How the tiles and pillars in the foyer are at least four hundred years old and how they're kept in such fine condition by magic.

"Dad!", you call out, not having missed the hidden panicked looks Mattheo has given you, trying his best to look interested. "Don't you think it's a little early for Staghill History 101? Let the boy breathe."

Your father lets go of Mattheo with a jolly laugh, his moustache curling upwards. "You are right. I am so sorry, good chap. Why don't you two go to the library while I round up the twins? They're all very excited to meet him."

Tugging on Mattheo's hand, you nod. "Sure. Make sure they clean off any dirt before Mum has an aneurysm. Again."

As you lead him towards the south wing, you stop just outside of the library. "Are you okay? I'm sorry. My dad's a lot and he's just happy to see anyone and everyone. Could be Father Christmas with how jolly he is." You scratch the back of your neck awkwardly, looking away.

Mattheo laughs. "It's okay. He's... nice. Now I get where you get it from."

"What?", you question with a cock of your head.

Mattheo wets his bottom lip, his eyes focused on yours. "That twinkle in your eyes when you talk about something you're passionate about." He reaches out for your flaming hot cheeks, cupping them.

The doors to your right swing open and the two of you feel like little children caught with your hand in the cookie jar. Your oldest brother, Felix, raises one disapproving brow and the two of you quickly step away from each other.

"Is it them? Don't hog the door, you big oaf!" Behind Felix appears Herbert, immediately engulfing you in a big, bone-crushing hug. 

"They were snogging", says Felix, walking back towards the couch he always sits on when he visits home. His comment earns him a swat from his wife next to him.

"We were not!", you protest scandalised, wrestling out of Herbert's hold. "We were just... It's none of your business what we were doing!" You grab Mattheo's hand and walk into the library, towards your mother.

He scoffs under his breath, mumbling; "You made it everybody's business when you let Meemaw catch you." That earns him another swat from his wife and a stern look from your mother. 

"Mum", you say after giving her a hug, tugging Mattheo closer, "I would like you to meet Mattheo."

"It's very nice to meet you, ma'am." Mattheo puts on his most charming smile while holding out his hand. 

Your mother shakes her head and gives him one of her signature warm hugs. "None of that! Call me Clementine. Or Clemmy. Or Ma. You're practically family now!"

You blanch, shrinking into yourself. Dear Lord. Why does your mom need to be so much?

Felix snorts. "Is he to stay? What happened to that bloke from Christmas?"

Yours and Mattheo's eyes meet and you purse your lips. "I rather not speak about it..."

That gets their attention, both men leaning forward in their seats. "What did he do?"

"Nothing!" You grow irritated at their endless questions as your mom ushers the two of you towards a couch. Sitting closely together, Mattheo lays a hand on your knee. You don't know if it's to comfort you or to ground himself.

Herbert studies the two of you with his eyes narrowed. He purses his lips while leaning back into the chair. "He beat the ex up, didn't he?"

"Oh, my Gods! Can you not play detective about my life? Stop talking about my ex with my new boyfriend right next to me", you scowl, not wanting the two of them to flip out over something that you're way past.

At that, your mother claps in her hands. "That's right! Mattheo, why don't you tell me something about yourself? What house are you in for instance?"

Mattheo glances nervously towards you and you lay a hand over his own, giving him a reassuring squeeze. "I'm in Slytherin, ma'am. I hope that isn't an issue."

Your mom chortles and waves his concern away. "Oh please, we aren't that kind of family."

"Speaking of family", pipes Herbert from across the room, "Who's family you belong to?"

Both your mom and you sputter and scold Herbert. But the twins coming in gives your brother his answer.

 "Why on Meemaw's good name is Mattheo Riddle sitting next to our sister?", sneers Victor, Danny leering over his shoulder.

A groan escapes you while you slink down the couch, hiding your face in your hands. You had hoped that Mattheo's family wouldn't be a subject. The twins are the only ones from your family who have seen the kind of nuisance Mattheo has been to you before leaving school last year. Of course, it looks very fucking weird that he is now cosying up to you, his hand on your knee and claiming to be your boyfriend.

You feel everybody's eyes on the two of you. Mattheo shrinks down under the many gazes, his hold on you tightening in a silent plea to not abandon him right now.

Not knowing how to get away under the scrutiny, you glance at your mom. She looks shocked and when she meets your eyes, her gaze softens before turning stern. "Didn't I always tell you boys to not judge people? What can the poor boy do about which cradle he was born into? So get off your high horses and be nice to the boy!" She stands with her hands on her hips, berating your brothers.

"What did I miss?", asks your father, standing in the doorway with a tray filled with cookies and teacups, the teapot floating behind him.

"Nothing", smiles your mother, turning towards you, "I was just saying that Mattheo should have a tour of the house. Why don't you do that, honey?"

Getting what she's implying, you nod exuberantly. "Yeah, right! Let's go." 

Mattheo's all too happy to escape the tense room and quickly follows after you, walking with a big arch around the twins, who are still glaring at him.

"I am so sorry." You cast your eyes towards the floor as the two of you walk through one of the many art-lined hallways. "I- There is no excuse for how they treated you..."

Mattheo's hand on your waist makes you stop and look up at him, unsheathed tears dancing in your waterline. He tuts, wiping away the single one that has managed to escape. "Don't cry, pretty girl. It's a warranted reaction. I'm used to it by now. How awkward it was anyways."

You pout while leaning into his hand. "That's horrible Matt. You don't deserve to be treated like that because your father made a wrong choice!"

"It was more than a wrong choice, lovely. Besides, there's not a witch or wizard who went bad who wasn't in Slytherin, remember?" He laughs, but you see that there's sadness in his eyes.

With a shake of your head, you lean closer to him. "You aren't bad! Such a vile stereotype."

This time a genuine laugh bubbles out of Mattheo's chest. "Oh, sweet, sweet, Hufflepuff", he trances your cheek with the pads of his fingers, "there are many things that make me as bad as they say. Mostly for the thoughts I have about you."

Your brain short circuits and you blink up at him, processing his words. He has what? Heh?

Mattheo chuckles at your dumbfounded look. Oh, how cute you are when you are clueless. He clasps his hands behind his back and looks around. "Is there anything in particular you want me to see?", he asks, throwing you a bone.

That seems to snap you out of your daydream of what Mattheo could do to you and you shake your head. "Yes. There is one final person I have to introduce you to."

The two of you walk side by side as he studies both muggle and magical paintings. You lead him towards the main sitting with an empty frame with a chair hanging above the fireplace. Dragging an ottoman over, you motion for Mattheo to follow your lead and climb on top of the cushions.

"Meemaw", you call out towards the empty portrait, "I would like to meet someone."

It takes a second or two before your ancestor appears from the side, graciously draping herself and her skirts on the chair. "My littlest Badger! How are you, my dear?"

You lean closer, smiling. "Hello, Meemaw. I would like you to meet someone." You motion towards Mattheo, who looks with big eyes at her.

"Isn't that...?"

Heat spreads over your face and you bite your bottom lip. "I- yeah..."

"Mattheo Riddle, your ladyship." He bows slightly, earning a hearty laugh from her. 

"Aren't you a charmer? You musn't call me ladyship. Just Helga is fine. Or Meemaw, seeing as you are our littlest badger's love." She sends you a doting smile. "Say, if I may ask; aren't you one of Salazar's boys?"

"Yes. I hope that isn't an issue for you, Helga."

She waves his concerns away. It surprised you how easily Meemaw's taken by Mattheo. He's a naturally charming person when he wants to be after all.

"Oh, of course not, dear boy! Your great-grandfather and I had a... very special relationship of our own when we were younger. It warms my heart that our descendants have found each other." A fond look paints her face as she looks off in the distance. 

As a melancholy glimmer befalls her, you take that as your cue to leave. "I have to continue my tour of the house, Meemaw. See you later."

Waving her off, you hop off the ottoman and put it back in the right place before exiting the sitting room. A sigh escapes your lips and you swing your arms back and forth. Mattheo gives you a raised brow before taking your hand in his and continuing the swinging.

It's nice. The two of you just walking and talking about nothing special in particular. You sometimes point out some facts about you growing up around the house. "In that room, we always used to build pillow forts in." Or "I once ran against that door and lost both my front teeth. They were loose anyways", you add quickly at his concerned look.

Everything's so easy with Mattheo that it scares you. How are you supposed to go back to strangers after your arrangement has come to an end? Can you even go back to strangers? Even if Mattheo doesn't feel the same, you wish you at least could stay friends. Because he's genuinely a nice person to hang out with. It would sadden you to lose him.

The ring of a bell plucks you from your thoughts and you turn towards where the sound came from. "Oh! Dinner's ready." You lead the both of you towards the dining room, taking shortcuts and hidden doors. Mattheo chuckles as you press open another hidden panel before finally arriving in said room.

Out of habit, you go to sit at your usual place at the table and Mattheo follows you. But as he pulls the chair back, Danny is quick to sit in it. After sending a glare at your brother, you look apologetic towards the dark-haired boy. His eyes scan the room and the only free seat is right in front of you, between Herbert and Felix. 

Mattheo sighs and takes place on the empty seat. He feels your brothers stare at him, and he does his best to try and act normal. He smiles politely and answers any questions your mother asks him. Eventually, he learns that — who he believes is Felix — is a beater for the Caerphilly Catapults. His wife plays for the Holyhead Harpies and that's how they met each other. 

Dinner seems to pass by smoothly — not counting the snarky remarks of the twins. But they're dicks. As everybody starts to collect the dishes, your father clears his throat. "Why don't you all go outside and...", he glances towards Mattheo, "Take a lap around the fountain so Mattheo and I can have a heart-to-heart."

Both you and Mattheo send slightly panicked looks towards each other as he gets led away by your father. As your brothers let out an 'oooh', you jab Danny in his side with your elbow. He rubs his side with a slight pout and you poke out your tongue. 

"The last one is a rotten egg!", yells Victor and he sprints towards the back door. You let out a curse and start sprinting after him, the others following. 

While you and your brothers race towards the burrow, Mattheo gets led towards your father's office. He anxiously takes place in the chair in front of your father's desk. The man leans forward and studies the Slytherin boy with narrowed eyes. 

"What are your intentions with my daughter?", he asks, getting straight to the point. 

What are his intentions? Well... he can think of a few things. But none are parent-approved answers. "I like her. I really do, Sir. I wouldn't dare to hurt her." Because that is the truth. He always had a crush on you, but getting to know you? You're everything and so much more than he imagined. 

Your father hums. "I ask this because I have received some chatter that you've been in a... physical altercation with one Malcolm Preece. So, Mattheo, what is the deal with that?" He leans back in the leather chair, one brow raised.

For the first time in a while, Mattheo feels genuinely nervous. And it's not the same kind of nervous before he took you out on your first date. No. This is a different kind of nervousness. A deep-down fear to disappoint the people who he cares about. 

And yes, you are one of those people he realises. He cares about you the most.

Lying will do no good. Because, as your father has shown, he somehow has a way to get information about what happens at school. "In all honesty, sir, Preece was threatening your daughter. They broke up and he kept bothering her. It... indeed got physical because some guys don't know when to take a hint." 

Your father purses his lips, his eyes scanning over Mattheo's face. Searching for a sign of dishonesty. But he finds none. 

"Did you at least get him good?"

That makes the dark-haired boy laugh. "Yes, sir. He won't dare to bother her again."

Your father stands up from his chair and holds out his hand for Mattheo to shake. With a smile and a firm handshake, he says, "You did good son. Now, I believe someone's way too anxious to wait a second longer." He points towards the door, where a shadow is seen pacing under through the crack.

Mattheo closes the door behind him and sees you look at him with wide eyes, chewing on your thumb. "How did it go? What did Dad say?" You fling your arms around him and press your cheek against his shoulder.

He smiles and wraps his arms around you. "Don't worry. Everything's fine." When you look up at him, he cradles your face and wipes away some stray dirt. "Don't you worry your pretty little head about it", he smiles.

You roll your eyes but can't help but smile. "Fine. You know what, if we leave now, we maybe have some time left before curfew."

A smirk grows on Mattheo's face while he wetts his bottom lip. "And do what?"

"I don't know", you shrug playfully, pulling him with you, "We will see."

"Absolutely not", says your mother when you come and say your goodbyes. "Your room is already set up. Fresh sheets and everything! Wasn't that clear from my letter?"

Your eyes dart nervously towards Mattheo, who gives you the same look. You silently ask him if he's okay with it. If he's not uncomfortable. He shrugs. He's not too bothered by the idea of staying over.

A sigh escapes you. "Fine. But we don't have anything to sleep in."

Your mother claps in her hands and gets up from the couch, motioning for the both of you to follow her. She leads you through the house, towards your bedroom. 

The smell of clean cotton hits you as soon as you enter your room and you breathe in the smell. That's one of the many things you miss about your home. The house elves of Hogwarts don't use the same detergent as your mother and it just hits a special spot in your brain when you finally smell it.

"I'll grab a pair of Felix's clothes for you, Mattheo." Your mother pats his shoulders before exiting the room.

The boy in question stands in the middle of your bedroom and a smile grows on his face. He can't explain why but it so much you. In the short period he has gotten to know you, this is exactly the type of room he imagined you to have. Maybe with fewer plants.

A four-poster bed stands in the middle of the room, facing a fireplace. On top of the bed grows some hanging plants that spread onto the walls and turn into wallpaper. There's a cosy-looking chair next to the fireplace with tons of pillows and blankets. 

You watch him eyeing the chair and you mention towards it. "You can sit in it if you want. It gives you also a really nice view over the garden." 

Mattheo does so, burying himself between the pillows. The garden is almost too perfect with the way it's lit up by floating lights and lightningbugs. When he looks back at you to comment on the beautifulness, he sees you pull away the many pillows from your bed into a trunk at the front of your bed and readying the bed for sleeping.

"I... I can sleep on the ground- if you're more comfortable with that. I could even fall asleep in this chair."

You stop what you're doing and look at him with such a scandalised look that it makes him shrink. "Uhm how about no? I dragged you into this, like hell I let you sleep on the floor!"

Your mother comes back at the right time with a pair of joggers and a shirt in her hands. She gives him a warm smile as she hands him the clothing, instructing him to where the bathroom is. Mattheo takes that as his saving grace to get a moment of his own. He has to admit, your family is a lot. This whole situation is a lot. And he has nobody to blame for it except himself.

Not that he blames himself. He's quite enjoying himself, being with you, meeting your parents and seeing where you grew up. He now gets why you are how you are. How you can shine so bright because your parents do everything to lighten you.

When he comes back you are also changed in quite the same outfit as him. You are sitting on your bed, nervously nibbling on the side of your thumb. He strides towards you and grabs your hand, stopping you from destroying your nailbed and making you look up at him.

"Are you okay", he asks, interlacing your fingers.

You nod with a hum, eyes focused on your interlinked hands. "Yeah... I'm just tired from today." You run a hand over your hair, brushing some stray strands out of your face. "Are you okay?"

Mattheo lets out a light-hearted scoff. "Don't worry about me, lovely. My family is much much worse."

You blink, wanting to ask more. But a knock on your door stops you. Your father stands in the door opening, Victor looming over his shoulder and glaring daggers at Mattheo. 

"Will you do your old man a favour and keep the door open? I know it makes you uncomfortable, hun. But I don't think I have to explain why?" He motions with his eyes towards how close the two of you are and with a sigh, you nod.

The house is so old that it creaks and groans with even the slightest breeze. And it freaks you out when you hear it at night. Are you saying that this centuries-old house doesn't have ghosts? Likely.

As your dad walks away, Victor takes a step forward, his jaw taut. "You", he points towards the dark-haired boy, "I'm right next door and these walls aren't as thick as they seem. I will hear everything. No funny business!"

Mattheo sends him a charming smile that you know will irritate Victor. "I promise." But when he turns around when Victor storms away, he shows you his crossed fingers. You let out a giggle and swat him.

After that you take it as a cue to get ready to sleep so you crawl under the covers. Mattheo positions himself between you and the open door and the two of you lay on your backs, staring up at the canopy. 

It... feels weird having Mattheo Riddle next to you in your bed. The even weirder feeling is the desire to keep him there.

You turn so you're facing him, your hands tucked under your pillow. "I've been wondering... When you spoke in Parsletongue, what did you say?"

Mattheo tenses slightly before turning towards you, a pink flush heats up his cheeks. His eyes trace every inch of your face, taking in the details; moles, freckles, perfect imperfections. It makes him want to reach out and trace every one of them.

"Oh I don't remember", he says offhandedly, his eyes fleeing yours.

You scoot closer, a mischievous smile on your face. "Yes, you do! Please tell me. It can't be that embarrassing."

His lips part and the same sounds fill the room, raising goosebumps on your arms. "You are... you are the most beautiful person I know and I don't know if I can keep pretending that this is fake."

Your smile melts off your face and you look with wide eyes towards him. An unsure look fills his eyes as his brows knit together. "Say something", he whispers- begs. A hesitant hand reaches out and gets placed on your cheek.

Your heart beats a million miles an hour and every word just escapes your brain. So you do what you have been wanting to do for a while now. And you kiss him. Pressing your lips against his, you close your eyes while your hand travels from his wrist to his shoulder, gripping him tightly.

Mattheo lets out a surprised humph, his eyes wide as he watches your eyes flutter close. He breathes in deeply before kissing you back, pulling you closer.

Two pairs of lips mould against each other while Mattheo's hand slides down and grips your thigh, wrapping your leg around his middle. Your body melts against his as the kiss grows more fierce, lips parting and tongues exploring each other's mouths. 

A low growl emits from Mattheo as you part, your chest raising and falling rapidly. He zeros in on your neck and decides then and there how kissable the skin looks and that it needs to be marked.

Your head gets thrown back as Mattheo attacks your neck with kisses, licks and bites and you do your best to suppress the breathy moan that wants to escape you. You bite your bottom lip as your eyes squeeze close. 

Mattheo's lips travel down, tracing the shape of your throat with his teeth and he flips the both of you over, hovering above you. He relishes in your bitten raw lips and the half-lidded look you give him. The way your chest raises and makes your shirt tighten... he thanks whatever god there is out there that made this possible.

His admiring takes too long in your opinion and you grab the back of his head, yanking him down so he kisses you again. Mattheo complies and cradles your face, his big hands engulfing your cheeks, feeling the heat underneath them. 

He pecks your lips a few times before trailing down, Mattheo's hands finding the hem of your sleep shirt. He glances at you and only continues after a nod. He pushes your shirt up, above your breast while his lips trail from your chin, neck, and collarbones, to your sternum. 

When he flattens his tongue tentatively against one of your nipples, a moan escapes you. It makes him smirk against your skin, doing it again. 

"Matt... ah!", you squeak out, gripping his shoulder.

His tongue swirls against the nub and one of his hands reaches up, clasping a hand over your mouth to silence the sweet noises pouring out of your mouth. Your tongue swipes over one of his fingers. Mattheo presses the pads of his pointer and middle finger against your tongue before sliding into your mouth.

A 'mmph' escapes you while you suck around his digits, hands trying to ground yourself as everything feels too much; his tongue against your boob, his fingers in your mouth, and something hard pressing against your core. 

Your hands find the hem of his shirt and your nails rake up against his bare back. He moans against you and releases your nipple with a 'pop'. He looks at you with dark eyes and swollen lips while he lowers himself towards your core.

While his fingers dance over the elastic of your underwear, you push his fingers out of your mouth. "Matt wait..."

As if your words scorched him, he's off you immediately, his chest raising rapidly and face flushed. "I'm-I'm sorry. I got a little carried away..."

You sit up, pushing your shirt down and shaking your head. "No... please don't- it's okay. I-I enjoyed it too. It's just...", you cradle his face and peck his lips, "I don't want our first time to be in my childhood bedroom and avoid making too much noise."

Mattheo leans into your touch and kisses your palm. You pull him down with you and lay on top of his chest. When you move your legs, you accidentally bump against his boner. You sputter out an apology, feeling bad for blue-balling him.

His hands grab your hips tightly and he presses you closer against his body. He brings his lips towards your ear. "Don't worry about it, Princess. Because when I have the chance, I'm gonna fuck you so good you forget our whole relationship was fake to begin with."

Oh Gods, you created a monster... 

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[bruhnze]

Feeling 22 - Lucy Bronze x Ona Batlle

Written for this ask and this ask xx. Didn't know if you wanted a smutty story but i just took the liberty to fill in you did, bcs in my polls its always about a 70-80% that does :). (for future asks u guys should totally specify, bcs i'll just do whatever haha).

Warning: 18+ smut, minors dni.

Summary: Lucy shows up at the match with Ona's 2 on her and tells Ona she'll have the same number for club as her aswell. Ona is sleepy but demands Lucy to come to her hotel, as she can't sleep knowing Lucy could be in her arms. Sleepy Ona x sleepy Lucy.

Wordcount: a small one: 1,8k

New title: Feeling 22

Lucy had been able to get a shirt to wear for her girlfriends Olympic game through Ona's manager.

Ona had known she would come but Lucy had asked the manager not to tell her she would be wearing her shirt to the match, that would be a surprise.

The match against Japan had ended well, with a 2-1 win, and Lucy couldn't wait to congratulate Ona.

After Ona had showered she walked back into the stadium, she looked for Lucy and saw her talking to a family member of another player, Carmona.

She was standing against a fence and Ona walked over to it.

The person walked away when she saw Olga and she said goodbye to Lucy, but Lucy was no longer really paying attention.

Ona and Lucy only had eyes for each other, Ona pressed herself against her and caught Lucy between the fence and herself.

After a hug -that was far too short for their liking-, they looked at each other.

"Hey, bub," Lucy said softly as she turned the pendant of Ona's necklace, which she had given her, right,''congrats on your win''.

"You are wearing my shirt!" Ona giggled happily as she grabbed the fabric.

''of course, you're a WAG or you're not'' Lucy said shrugging ''i do everything with a 100 percent effort''.

''i love you'' Ona sighed.

Lucy smiled ''i love you too''.

Ona traced the two on the shirt and smiled at Lucy ''i love you two'' she joked as she poked Lucy's stomach.

''i have some more fun news'' Lucy said laughing.

''yes?''

''For club im also taking the same number as you, it just got confirmed''.

''22?''

''yeah''

''2 and 22'' Ona said to let it sink in and finally said ''cute''.

''you are cute'' Lucy said ''but now you know what awaits you hm''.

''no?''

''i want you in my shirt at a match''.

''i am definitely not going to wear a Chelsea shirt and i have matches to play myself'' Ona giggled teasingly.

Lucy grinned ''hmm, we'll see, maybe an opportunity will present itself''.

Ona pushed herself a bit closer to Lucy and said happily ''then of course i will grab it with both hands''.

..

After the formalities in the team hotel, such as recovery and eating, and Ona was supposed to be in bed sleeping, she texted Lucy, even though she wasn't supposed to leave the hotel or invite Lucy to come to hers, she couldn't help but want to hold Lucy, especially now that she knew Lucy was literally a street away in a hotel.

They were supposed to see each other again that next morning, when Ona had a moment of free time to explore Nantes, but she couldn't wait.

Lucy had been reluctant and had called Ona after she'd read the texts and told her to rest, ''playing a game every 3 days takes a toll on your body, especially for a player like you, who plays every game and especially as you're going to win so you've got a lot of games to play'' Lucy had said.

“I know sleep is important Luce,” Ona had whined, “but I can't sleep without you when I know there's only a street between us.”

Lucy thought about it ''Just sleeping?'' she had asked in a stern voice.

''Yes I promise Luce'' Ona said sincerely ''if you are here I will sleep in 2 minutes''.

Lucy sighed, knowing she literally was not capable of saying no to her little Catalan ''mkay, I will be there in 10 minutes''.

..

As a soft knock sounded on Ona's hotel door, she shot out of bed and opened the door.

''Hi princess'' Lucy said softly.

''Has anyone seen you?'' Ona asked as she closed the door behind her friend.

''No'' Lucy said giggling ''everyone is sleeping, something you should do too''.

Ona hugged Lucy ''yes we are going to sleep, but first un beso, I haven't kissed you in so long''.

''You are incorrigible, I said, only sleeping'' Lucy said rolling her eyes.

''I said it would take 2 minutes for me to go to sleep, 2 minutes to kiss you'' she looked up at Lucy ''you are wasting my kiss time with stupid talking''.

Lucy wanted to kiss her just as much and quickly took off her clothes until she was in her underwear and got into bed ''come let's kiss here so you can leave your eyes closed and let your legs rest''.

She laughed as Ona climbed into bed to her left yawning, "aw you're so tired baby, c'm here."

Lucy herself was also very tired, between all the hustle and bustle of the end of the season and the signing at her new club and other things she had to arrange for England, she had arranged to be able to come to Ona's match. It was very important to her and she was happy that it had all worked out.

Facing each other they layed in bed, Lucy smiled tiredly and stroked Ona's cheek with her thumb ''you are so beautiful, I missed you''.

Ona leaned towards her ''still talking?'' she sighed laughing against Lucy's lips.

Lucy was quiet and kissed her lover back.

Both content with feeling of each other's soft lips again, after not having seen each other for a while, they relaxed.

Soft kisses were shared and hands caressed the places they had longed for.

When Lucy noticed that Ona was -waking up- a bit more she gently pushed her onto her back and broke the kiss ''you're tired''.

Ona groaned in dissatisfaction ''we still have a minute left''.

Lucy leaned over Ona ''no way, we're already overdue''.

The short Catalan pouted ''i won the match''.

''the match you played all the way through'' Lucy said tiredly ''you need to rest''.

''Okay, I'll stay laying down like this and you kiss me'' Ona said stubbornly and determined ''or do you think I don't deserve it?'' she said with puppy-dog eyes.

''argghh'' Lucy sighed ''you know I can't deny you anything, I just want you to recover well baby''.

Ona smiled and reached her hand up to guide Lucy's face back to hers ''being loved is a scientifically proven recovery''.

''No it's not'' Lucy chuckled as she pressed some kisses to Ona's face.

''You don't know that''.

''Is it?''. Lucy chuckled against Ona.

''Could be''. Ona groaned as Lucy kissed her neck.

Lucy pulled back and made herself comfortable on her side next to Ona, one arm under Ona's neck and one draped over her. After lazily placing a few more kisses on the bare skin of the woman who was only in her panties, unlike herself who was also wearing a sports bra, she whispered "goodnight bonita".

Ona snuggled further into her but couldn't ignore the way her skin tingled under Lucy's hand on her hip, she may have been tired but now that she could feel and smell Lucy, a fire had been lit inside her, a small fire perhaps, but heat was definitely there.

Just as Ona was about to do something, Lucy shifted and crossed her leg over one of hers and moved her hand from Ona's hip to her lower ribs, gently stroking the skin with her thumb.

A tiny groan escaped Lucy's throat when Ona intertwined her fingers with hers and brought her hand up to her chest.

"Ona," Lucy sighed sternly, even though her fingers found their way to Ona's nipple.

Ona turned her head so she could kiss Lucy into silence.

Never before had they made out with so little effort like this, but they were both very sleepy.

Lucy couldn't contain her urge to feel Ona on her fingers as Ona gently rocked back and forth against her leg.

Her hand travelled south between their bodies and Ona broke their slow kiss to lean her forhead against Lucy's.

Fingertips caressed the edge of the piece of cloth covering Ona and when she laid back on the bed on her back with her eyes closed, Lucy reached inside.

Lucy's two fingers were welcomed by a warm wetness, making her lips curl up into a lazy grin.

Ona mumbled Lucy's name quietly as the English defender gently shifted for a better reach.

The Catalans body melted into the mattress with Lucy's undemanding touches.

Sluggishly she traced her fingers up and down Ona's centre, coating them in her slick.

The shorter woman sighed a dull moan as she tried to tell Lucy what she needed.

''shh i got you'' Lucy whispered ''my sleepy girl'' and slowly pushed two digits passed Ona's entrance.

Lucy littered her with languorous kisses and soft praises as her plodding fingers kept working Ona.

As Ona's breathing became deeper she pulled Lucy closer for a peck on her lips, the soft kiss turned into a lazy and slow make-out again.

Ona stopped kissing and her breath caught in her throat as she felt Lucy gently stimulate her with her thumb.

Lucy grinned tiredly and continued as she buried her face in the Catalans neck.

The smaller woman closed her eyes again as her walls started clenching around Lucy's thick fingers "me voy .. " she cried out quietly ''a c-correr Luce''. (im gonna cum)

Lucy grunted as she kept her pace ''come for me baby'' she kissed her ''just let it go'' she purred as she felt Ona tense.

The Catalans hands found their way in to the sheets and she held on for the release she felt coming.

With a faint moan Ona came, the ball of sensation in her lower stomach exploded and the pleasant, familiar sensation travelled through her whole body, making her toes curl.

After Lucy had helped her through her high she slowly opened her eyes again.

Lucy smiled as she looked at her girlfriends face and saw her dazed expression, the flushed cheeks, the slightly parted and puffy lips and drowsy eyes, ''my perfect girl'' she cooed.

Ona didn't respond, the release had launched her into the clouds, she was sleepy and felt like she was floating. Her last energy had been used up by the orgasm.

With a few more soft kisses, Lucy got out of bed to clean Ona up and put a new pair of panties on her.

..

When that was all done she layed back in bed and pulled Ona against her in a spooning position.

''i love you'' she mumbled against Ona's bare shoulders ''sleep well''.

''mhmm'' Ona sighed happily ''i will''.

---------

the end, but not theirs :)

lemme know what u think about this one if you like :)

[theebubblegumbitch]

Innocence is Gone~

virgin!Ethan Landry x fem!ghostface!Reader

Synopsis: It all started with a passing comment about poor Ethan dying a virgin... Lucky for him, you weren't gonna let that happen.

Warnings: ghostface!fem!reader, sub!virgin!ethan landry, unprotected penetrative sex (wrap it tf up), overstim if you squint, death/murder mentions, knife mention/use for intimidation

⚠️You are responsible for your own media consumption. Please read responsibly. 18+ viewer discretion is advised.⚠️

"Am I gonna die a virgin?" was the question Ethan had openly posed towards the group during a discussion about the most recent Ghostface killings. Everyone else had shrugged it off as a funny joke, just awkward Ethan being himself, awkward. But you had thought he actually sounded legitimately concerned for that possible fate. You thought it would be best to try and offer some reassurance to the boy, to ease some of the tension and fear, and also to get any potential suspicious persons off your tail. "None of us are going to die Ethan, at least not for many, many years so don't even worry about that okay?" He looked at you for a second before nodding, still slightly anxious at the possibility of death, or maybe at the eye contact the two of you made for a fraction of a second. However, no matter the cause, it did make you feel slightly bad for lying to him.

It was now about a week after that little interaction, and you were quickly approaching Ethan's dorm, with ghostface costume fully adorned. You had tucked a knife into the waistband of your pants, although you didn't plan on using it for more than intimidation. You had planned to kill Ethan at first as he seemed like easy prey to you, but now you thought it best to keep him alive for now. After all, you could still have some fun with him.

You had now made your way through an open window, both cursing and praising Ethan in your head for this helpful but incredibly stupid action. You were in his bathroom now, the fresh smell of his shampoo still lingering along with the steam on the mirror. "He must've just finished showering." You thought to yourself as you examined the empty room, making your way to the door. You went to twist the nob as slowly as possible so as to not alert the man of your presence yet. Upon opening the door just a crack, you saw Ethan standing next to his bed shirtless, luckily for you with his back towards the door.

You slowly opened it more until you could slip through, now taking the time to remove the knife from your waistband. You quickly made your way across the room and subdued the man, holding his hands behind his back, knife pressing ever so gently against his throat. "Good evening Ethan, would you like to play a little game..." Your modulated voice asked as you felt him slightly tremble in your grasp. "Oh my god please don't kill me! I don't wanna die I'll do anything you ask please just please..." He was begging you to spare his life incessantly, voice wavering as he spoke. "Oh no Ethan, honey, I'm not here to kill you. I'm here to help you with your little...problem." You whispered that last bit in his ear as you dragged the blunt edge of the knife along it.

He shivered. "W-what problem are you talking about? And you're holding a knife against my face so it sure feels like you want to kill me!" He was rambling like crazy, and you would be lying if you said it didn't slightly turn you on. Well, maybe more than slightly... "I can do away with the knife if you promise to be good. Can you do that for me Ethan? Can you promise?" You lifted the knife from his skin ever so slightly to show you were serious. "Yes, yes I'll be good I promise you, just please put the knife away!" He was almost whimpering now, and it made you comply to his request even quicker, swiftly tucking the weapon back into your waistband. “The knife’s away now pretty boy.” You whispered in his ear once again, using your other free hand to trace simple shapes onto his arm.

“O-okay now, who are you! And if you don’t want to kill me then, what are you here to help me with?!” He had eased up a little once he realized the knife wasn’t in your hand anymore, but he was still shaking, obviously very afraid. “Do you really wanna know what I’m here for Ethan?” You asked in your normal volume. “Y-yes I do.” That was enough for you as you clutched at your mask, slowly removing it. “I’m here…” You threw the mask down on the bed in front of him. “…to help you…” You let go of his arms and placed a hand on his waist. “…with your little…” You spun him around to face you as you pushed him down onto the bed. “…virginity problem.” He was gawking at you now, completely slack jawed. “Y/N? You’re Ghostface?? And you want to have sex with me?” Both of those things were true, but you couldn’t let him know about the first one. At least not yet. “No of course I’m not actually Ghostface! You can get this costume pretty much anywhere online.” You said as you messed with the long black fabric. You couldn’t wait to take it off for him.

“But…” you paused for a second to straddle his lap, watching him inhale sharply. “…I do want to fuck you pretty boy.” You leaned in and went to suck a mark into his neck before stopping yourself. “Are you okay with that Ethan?” You gazed into his eyes as he started at you blankly, slowing nodding. “I need you to say it Eth.” You placed your hands on his shoulders, ready to move off of him if he didn’t comply. “Y-yes please I want you.” Finally, you could have some actual fun with him. You placed a kiss on his cheek before removing your ghostface robe, leaving you completely bare except for you red lace underwear.

“H- holy shit…” Ethan gasped out as his eyes trailed your chest. He looked fidgety, and you felt his dick strain under your lap. He was what you can only assume to be painfully hard. You decided to lightly brush down on him with your core as a simple, but effective gesture to let him know you knew how needy he was. “Wow that was fast, do I really turn you on that much Eth?” You asked the flustered boy as you sucked dark purple marks into his neck, watching them bloom like bloody flowers. “Y-yea you do. I think you’re so hot y/n really I do, I’ve wanted you so bad for so long…” He started whining a little the more he rambled on. You wouldn’t tell him this, but it made you embarrassingly wet. “Holy fuck you’re so wet I can feel it…” Ethan had panted out as he experimented with grabbing your breasts. Well so much for him not knowing his pathetic-ness turns me on You thought as you felt his shy, shaky hands grow a bit more bold.

“Can I put it in now? Please y/n? You need it too I can tell just p-please I’ll be good!” The curly haired boy begged you as he buried his face in the crook of your neck. He was right, if you wanted him before, want couldn’t even describe what you felt now. “Yea pretty boy I’ll put it in, I’ll make you feel good.” You stumbled out your words as you hastily pulled the drawstrings of his pants, not even bothering to pull down his boxers before pulling out his achy cock. “Impressive Landry…” You purred in his ear. Maybe you should fuck econ nerds more often… You pumped him a few times in your hand before properly positioning yourself to allow him to slip in, a task made incredibly easy by your impressive arousal. You slowly eased down, the pair of you sharing a gasp as you hit the hilt. He was as deep as he could possibly be in this position and he loved it.

“O-oh my god… You’re so warm a-and wet and fuck!” You had started to move during his praises, gaining a slow and steady rhythm, but you were pent up, and it wasn’t enough. “Eth I know it’s your first time and all, but i’m about to fuck the ever-loving shit out of you. Kay pretty boy?” You panted out at him as you picked up the pace. You could tell you probably had him thoroughly fucked out already judging by just how awestruck he look. So much that he could only nod.

And that was all you needed. You picked up the pace more and more, hearing Ethan get louder and louder under you. “Nghh- Ah- FUCK y/n please you have to get off i’m gonna cum please.” You knew he was worried about the lack of protection, you also knew that you couldn’t care less. You were so close to orgasm that there was no way you were stopping now. “It’s okay cum in me don’t worry it’s okay hon.” You breathed out as fast as humanly possible, your mouth desperate to match the speed of your body. Not long at all after, you felt Ethan buck his hips up harshly into you, and you were filled with a sudden warmth, one you’ve never felt before.

Ethan was the first guy to come inside of you, and the thought of that alone led you to your peak. Strings of moans and curses flowed from your lips like silk as you slowed down before eventually going limp over him. You felt his hands snake around your waist and grip you tight, and you knew you got exactly what you wanted.

“Now you can help me kill Tara.”

Author’s Note: IT’S FINALLY OUT!! my premiere Ethan Landry fic!! I hope you all enjoyed it cause I had sooo much fun writing it! I’d like to give a shoutout to some people who pushed me to get this one finished so without further adieu…

MANY THANKS TO: @taylormarieee @ivorysfilms @ethanlandrysrightballsack and @stickbodybighead !!! They were so supportive and kind and they are overall lovely people!!!

©️theebubblegumbitch| All rights reserved. Do not repost, re-upload, translate, modify, or claim my work as your own without permission.

[purplecoffee13]

Nemesis With Benefits - Part 5*

Keep me awake, buy me a coffee!

Summary: “Friday nights at the bar are harmless fun, until Harry’s ego and your jealousy get in the way…”

Wc: 4.1k

Tropes: enemies to lovers

Warnings: SMUT, exhibitionism kink, daddy kink, degradation, spanking, jealousy, bit of possessiveness but not much

A/N: Hiya! Back again :) Here’s the newest part of Nemesis With Benefits! Things are getting real… enjoy!

Series Masterlist

General Masterlist

It's Friday night, which means getting drunk at the bar nearest to campus.

At least, that's the way Rebecca sees it.

And because you are Rebecca's friend, it is how your Friday night is also being spent. Benjamin and the others mentioned they might come too, so you were very excited to go out tonight. You had to admit that there was a small part of you which wondered whether Harry was going to show up too.

He did.

He joined the group a bit later, but your stomach felt funny when you spotted him walking through the door. You realized, of course, that you should immediately do something about these... feelings, but not tonight. Tonight was for dancing, and drinking, and secret glances.

Ones you have been sharing with Harry all night. Traces of the memories of the other night are still lingering in his eyes, and you are sure in yours too, as you catch his gaze every now and then. It makes your core heat up, just thinking about other things you could do on a night with him. Or day, or morning. Are you ovulating? You have to be.

Despite the fact that your eyes pull to Harry like fucking magnets, you put all your energy and focus into keeping up with Benjamin and Rebecca's conversation. Harry turns around and joins the three of you—which is noted by Benjamin as his body stiffens and he shares a nervous glance between the two of you—making it even more difficult to pay attention to what your lovely friend is saying. Until you hear the mention of your name

"I just need to find a random someone and have mind-blowing sex, like Y/N." She waves towards you as she explains the dry patch she has been going through for the past months. She's been so caught up in school that she hasn't had time to date at all.

Your mouth dries and your cheeks flush, feeling all eyes on you, especially Harry's. Benjamin's head whips towards you.

"You had mind-blowing sex?"

Before you can answer, Rebecca chimes in. "Yeah, she hooked up with some guy she met on that one dating app, and it was amazing, right?"

You are so utterly fucked. You know you are completely fucked when you say, "Yes."

"See? I need that too!" She asks, while Benjamin is still gazing at me with his mouth wide open.

"Oh my god, girl. So, he was good? Was he... you know? Big?" Benjamin, in very Benjamin-esque style immediately fires his blunt questions at you.

Before you can stop yourself, your eyes flick to Harry and back, uneasiness dripping off of you. You sigh.

"Yeah, yeah he was."

You hear a sniff of laughter on your left. With a clenched jaw, you try to control your breathing. You can't believe you got out in this embarrassing position. And you have no one to blame for it other than yourself. You hate this, the cocky bastard's ego is only going to get more inflated by hearing this conversation.

"Are you gonna see him again?"

Filled with irritation and a desire to humble the guy standing next to you, you shrug. "I don't think so. It's kind of like a disposable razor, after a few times it just won't do it for you like it did before. Plus, his arrogance alone took up like half of the space in bed."

Benjamin and Rebecca chuckle at your comment, and you smile, satisfied with that little jab you managed to make towards Harry. When you glance at him for that slight second that you allow yourself to, your stomach turns at that standard lazy smirk he wears.

You talk for a bit more, and Harry slowly fades out of the conversation over time. It takes everything to not let your eyes see where he is going as he walks away and disappears into the crowd. He probably went to pee, you tell yourself.

After a while, the song selection in the bar improves and finally Rebecca drags you onto the very occupied dance floor. You move on the beat like two idiots who look like they've had way more to drink than they actually have. Tonight is a 'dance like nobody's watching' night, filled with funny made-up moves, as opposed to the 'dance like everyone's watching' nights, which are filled with sensual hip movements and cute hair flips.

Just as you've finished your just invented dance move called 'the lawnmower', and are watching Rebecca's dancing rendition of turning on a lamp, you spot Harry at the bar. Your laughter fades a bit, concentration now full on where he is standing, and talking, to a girl.

She must be at least five inches shorter than him because there is quite a height difference. Her auburn hair is really shiny, though, and it looks like she is funny because Harry is laughing at whatever she just said.

You force yourself to turn your attention back to the dance floor, and continue dancing with Rebecca. However, despite your best efforts, your eyes keep flicking back to the bar, and that stupid smile that paints Harry's face as he talks to that redhead.

"I'm gonna get a drink!" You shout over to Rebecca, "do you want something?"

When she shakes his head, you give her a thumbs up and walk away. It is quite crowded so it takes a few seconds to get to the bar, but you arrive, right in front of Harry and the redhead. She has blue eyes, you notice. A flare of anger shoots down your spine.

"Excuse me, can I just—" before waiting on a confirmation or even a step back, you wring yourself between Harry and the girl, leaning over the bar to try and flag down a bartender. You don't miss the clench of Harry's jaw as he leans back a bit, giving you a bit of space instead letting you lean against him a bit.

It takes long enough for a bartender to arrive that the redhead decides to turn around and walk away, and you try not to smile too hard at the sudden free space beside you. You move away from Harry a bit, and he turns around and leans over the bar as well, getting closer to your face.

"Jealous?" He asks. You snort, slightly shaking your head.

"Thirsty." You shoot up straight at the feeling of a guy touching your waist and shoulders as he passes by—something which is entirely unnecessary because there is enough space to walk without touching you. You frown at the man who passed by, but re-direct your focus to Harry as you correct him. "I simply needed a drink and spotted some free space by the bar."

You can't look Harry in his eyes for too long because you know that he knows that you are lying through your teeth, so you turn your eyes back to the bar, hoping a bartender may have spotted you. You won't let yourself look as Harry moves away from the bar a bit, but your core flutters when you find him standing right behind you, hips pressed against your ass and his hands leaning on the bar, leaving you with no other place to go.

You try to be as casual as you can about it, but you can't help the shiver that runs down your spine as Harry leans into your ear and whispers, "You're jealous."

The low voice almost has you crumbling immediately, and the urge to lean back into him is almost too big, but you hold on to that last sliver of restraint. Luckily, a bartender finally comes to help you, so you can distract yourself by ordering a drink. While you wait for the drink to arrive, you turn around to Harry.

"You need to back off, all our friends are here. What if they see?"

Harry tilts his head, "You mean, what if they find out that I'm the guy from the mind-blowing sex?"

"No. I mean, what if they find out you are the disposable razor." You bite back, and Harry tsks you, a wide grin displayed on his face. He nods to the bar, and you quickly turn around to find the bartender putting your drink down. You thank him and lean forward to grab it, but your ass accidentally brushes against Harry's crotch as you do so.

He leans forward once again, saying lowly in your ear, "Everyone went outside to smoke, I saw them walk out just a minute ago."

You bite your lip at the thought of an open field, and lean back a bit further in response to his reassurance. Your ears catch the small chuckle that grumbles from Harry's throat as your ass presses tight against his crotch. His hand travels to your waist, tracing up and down as you take some sips of your drink.

You find it proves to be very hard to act like your entire body doesn't feel like it is engulfed in flames and his hands aren't the gasoline. It is way too warm in this room.

You gasp in surprise when Harry wraps his arm around your waist and pulls your entire body against him. You can practically hear your thunderous heartbeat as his hands glide down to your thighs and teasingly nudge your dress up a bit, and the heat of his breath fanning against your ear doesn't do much to help you either.

It takes everything in you not to turn around and kiss him, and you bring your drink to your lips, occupying your mouth with that instead. You drink, and drink, and drink, as if it's a potion of restraint. Ironically, it only takes you about twenty seconds to finish it. And even as you turn around and drag him towards the bathroom by his shirt, your mouth feels incredibly dry.

What you don't expect, though, is for Harry to change the path. Your brows knit together in confusion as he leads you to a random door that you've never seen before at the end of the hallway. He opens it, and suddenly you find yourself standing outside, behind the bar, in a small alleyway. You look on both your sides, but it seems to be impossible to access it from outside.

There are piles of crates filled with empty beer bottles that you have to shimmy around, and the other side of the alleyway is marked with only a chain link fence that looks out on a nearly empty, barely lit parking lot.

"Nice spot, do you take all your hook-ups here?" You joke, but you realize that as you say it, there is some hidden bitterness to the comment. You pray Harry doesn't catch it, but it doesn't seem so in the way he replies.

"Only the ones I hate." He looks back with a false innocent smile, coaxing you until you're leaned against the wall.

"Do you let them suck you off too?" You ask as you crouch down, maintaining eye contact and letting him see that salacious smirk displayed on your face. The hoarseness in his voice is apparent as he chuckles, observing you as you unbutton his pants and take his cock out of his briefs.

"Only the desperate ones." He retorts, satisfied with his humbling answer. You roll your eyes at his arrogance, and wrap your mouth around the tip of his cock. You press some small kisses to it, a lick here and there, and try not to smirk at the hisses sounding from above you.

You feign easing in, spitting on his cock and stroking the wetness all over his length, but when you put your mouth on him again, you instantly take him entirely down your throat. It takes focus, relaxation in your mouth and a lot of breathing through your nose, but the whine that falls from Harry's lips is worth it. You pull back, smiling up at him.

"Who's desperate now?"

With that invitation to a challenge floating in the air, you take Harry back into your mouth. You bob your head back and forth, this time making up for what you haven't got in your mouth with your hands. You take him deeper and deeper, until your nose hits his pubic hair again, and his cock slightly twitches in your throat.

"Shit..." He hisses, his hips bucking forward a bit and hits the back of your throat. A moan escapes you and it vibrates on his hard cock. By the pained sound he makes, you know that Harry is close to his orgasm. A sense of pride fills you as you begin to pick up your pace, but much to your dismay, your mouth is being pulled off of his cock.

"Hey! I wasn't done yet." You begin to protest, but he turns you around and bends you forward. You grasp onto the chain link fence, your cunt absolutely dripping as he flips your dress over your ass and roughly pulls down your panties. His fingers trace over your wetness, and you bite your lip to refrain yourself from making too much noise.

"Shut the fuck up, and just take it." Harry growls, his cock lining up with your entrance and pushing into you. You let out a sigh of relief at the now familiar warmth filling you up, and as Harry starts driving into you, you find yourself driving back into him.

"This is what you wanted right? That I fuck you somewhere in the dark instead of talking to that girl inside." He tuts you, grabbing your hair and pulling your head backwards. You whine at the impact. "Such an attention whore."

"I— I was just getting a drink." You croak out, shooting forward at every hard thrust that Harry makes. The fence echoes the impact of it, and every time you are sure you are going to fall down. But your legs refuse to give out because that would mean giving out on Harry's cock sliding in and out of you the way he is right now and you'd rather give up anything else than that at the moment.

You let out a small shriek when Harry's hand flies across your cheek, the stinging sensation instantly making you more wet.

"You're a bad liar, baby." He purrs, and another slap lands on your cheeks. You let out a string of mumbling words insisting he go on and 'harder'. Harry laughs lowly, and it almost sounds evil.

"So filthy. What would your friends think if they could see you right now?" His fingers find your clit as he speaks, slowly drawing circles.

"I don't care."

The words have left your mouth before you can even realize that you, indeed, really do not care. All that you care about right now is being fucked by Harry in this alleyway and you don't care who sees or hears it. As long as you can still feel this good.

Harry sniffs, and you know he's not taking you seriously right now. For some reason, you feel the need to prove him that you are in fact being serious.

"I wouldn't care if they were standing on that parking lot, I'd still let you fuck me." You confess, and your words seem to be the fuse for the cannonball that you send flying. That cannonball being Harry, and flying meaning he starts to jackhammer into you like his life depends on it.

"F—fuck! Ah, oh. My. God. Harry!"

What should be sentences leaving your mouth are only remnants of words, and what should be thoughts in your head are only him. The smell of him, the sound of him, the feeling of him. Everything disappears around you and it's just him and his extremely big cock pounding into you.

"You're a filthy fucking slut— fuck!" He rambles, the chain link fence masking the harsh sound of your bodies colliding with each other, and the ragged breathing that comes with it.

"Yes, yes, yes, daddy!"

You haven't even really noticed the nickname until Harry's reaction makes you aware of it. He groans out and brings his hand to your cheek again before focusing back on your clit and rubbing earth shattering circles that have your legs wobble.

"Fuck... Such a dumb fucking cock slut. Daddy needs to fill you up, huh?" Every word is laced with his cockiness, but you don't miss the gruffness that his hidden underneath. Harry is close and you know it, even if he doesn't want to let it shine through too much. In response to that, you begin fucking yourself into him once again.

"Fill me up daddy."

It's a demand, not a question or a suggestion or proposition. You need it, and he does too. But Harry refuses to obey you immediately, fixating on your orgasm first.

"Soak me baby, and I'll fill you up."

The promise causes you to let go. Harry uses his free hand to clasp it over your mouth, muffling the cries that fall from your lips as you clench around him over and over, soaking him as he requested, and it seems to be the catalyst for his orgasm.

You smile to yourself as you feel him fill you up, the almost pained noises you hear from behind filling you with some sense contentment that you are afraid to find out the details about.

But maybe you should, and then throw them away. The last thing you want is to develop feelings for the man who helped break your last relationship. It isn't right.

You push the thought aside, though, as Harry slowly pulls out of you and slips your underwear over your core again. You stand up straight and adjust your dress, turning around to the guy who just fucked you within an inch of oblivion. You giggle, shaking your head at the ridiculousness of the situation. Harry grins at your amusement, finding it as entertaining as you do.

When you've both made yourself decent again, helping one another with some adjustment with their hair—and with that meaning Harry adjusting the mess he made of your hair—you decide it's time to get back inside before anyone gets too suspicious.

"We shouldn't go in at the same time." You say, and Harry nods in understanding. "You should probably go first."

He eyes you for a second, then shrugs, and waves at you weakly as he walks back to the door where you both came from. As soon as he's disappeared behind the door, you let out a sigh. For a second you let the realization of what you just did kick in, and much to your surprise, a giggle falls from your lips as your initial reaction.

It's just so... stupid. But it's funny, and you're enjoying it. Maybe you should start accepting it, and maybe that should start with starting to see Harry as a friend.

With that thought and a faint smile on your face you tread back to the door and head into the bar. When you emerge from the bathroom hallway, you crash into Rebecca, who grabs your shoulders and pushes you back into the hallway.

For a moment, you think, this is it. She's found out and she is going to absolutely flip. But the distressed look on her face makes you reconsider, and out of is instinct you look behind her to the bar.

Where is Harry?

"I've had enough of tonight, shall we go home?" The hurried tone of her voice only draws in more confusion from your side.

"What's going on?" You ask, shaking her hands off your shoulders. She keeps them by her side, her eyes filled with compassion... pity maybe?

"Rebecca?" You frown, tilting your head. She huffs and throws her hands over her face.

"I'm a horrible friend!" She confesses, peering up at you from behind her hands. "Dylan is here..."

Oh.

You stare blankly at your friend, your brain seeming to malfunction on choosing a reaction. There is nothing that really comes to mind. Most everything regarding Dylan has left you kind of numb. Well, except what happened between him and Harry of course.

Harry... shit!

You strut past Rebecca, walking onto the busy dance floor, and you spot your ex, standing by the pool table with another girl. You almost want to go over to the poor girl and tell her to run, but maybe she doesn't mind being a one night stand. You hope she does, you hope she doesn't get her heart broken by him like you did.

You want to do something... pour a glass of beer over him or anything else that feels even remotely cathartic. But somehow you can't. Somehow, all you can think about while looking at the boy who once used to be your boyfriend, is what a fucking pig he is.

The betrayal, the wound that you have been tending to, the one you have let breathe and has slowly started to heal feels like it has been ripped open again. That face and his features, you haven't seen them in a while and it makes it all so real.

He cheated on you. He cheated on you with someone in the friend group while you were together. He cheated on you with Harry.

And you just had sex with Harry.

You feel sick to your stomach. What the fuck have you been doing? How have you let yourself forget what kind of a person Harry is? God, you had even started to like him! Just five minutes ago you were beginning to think you might be able to be friends with him. You've made your life such a fucking shit show.

With tears blurring your vision, you turn your head back to Rebecca and say, "You're right, let's go."

She hurries over to you and gives you a hug before escorting you out of the bar. You don't know if Dylan sees you, but if he did he doesn't seem to care.

You walk to the car and step into the passenger seat, one question floating in your mind. One you're afraid will be too vulnerable, but you take the risk of asking it anyway.

"Where's Harry?"

It almost comes out in a whisper, but it's quiet enough in the car for Rebecca to hear you anyway. She looks over at you, all sympathetic like she's been looking at you for the past months, like she'll let anything slide just because she feels bad for you.

"Home, I think. Benjamin went with him. He practically stormed out as soon as he saw Dylan."

You look down at your lap, a heavy ache filling your chest. You have no idea how to identify what you are feeling right now. There is a part of you that wants to talk to Harry, ask if he's okay. But there's this other, bigger part of you that knows he is part of what caused this entire situation in the first place. And it just fills you with such anger... you don't know where to place it, you don't know how to filter through it and you especially have no idea how to ever get past it.

How can you ever have a healthy relationship— or well, friendship, with someone who did something like that to you? And why does the impossibility of it flood you with a sadness you've never experienced before. It's like... it's like you're doomed.

What the fuck do you do now?

taglist: @hisparentsgaleryy

[fuctacles]

<<4 | 5 | 6>>

Eddie held back and was nice enough to give him an ice pack after. 

"Thank you," Steve murmurs, placing the frozen peas on his chin. He's not taking his eyes off Eddie, who's wired up and walking back and forth in the tiny kitchen. Steve is low-key expecting another hit. If he had his tail, it would be tucked between his legs. 

"Why?" Eddie finally asks, the first thing he says since the punch. But before he can get an answer, he follows with: "Does everyone else know?"

"Yes," Steve admits guiltily. "I didn't want to drop it on you right after the Upside Down, but the longer it took, the weirder it got, and I just..." he trails off with half a shrug. 

Eddie scoffs, sending him a glare while his strides pick up speed. It would look ridiculous, since it takes only three of his steps to walk through the kitchen, if it wasn't so serious. 

"You made it weirder alright. Why did you follow me around instead of hanging out like a normal human being?!" He throws his arms wildly around, almost hitting the fridge. "Or did you just want to keep tabs on me? Like a weird little dog-stalker?!"

"No!" Steve protests indignantly, but then falters. "Well, I— Kind of? But just to, you know, protect you."

Eddie finally stops. Which is not a good sign as far as Steve is concerned, but Eddie just stares at him. 

He recounts the run-ins they had with the local righteous mob. He reimagines them with Steve by his side instead, the human one, and there's no universe in which it doesn't end up with an escalation. People don't normally pick up fights with dogs, apparently. But...

"Was sleeping on my couch and eating my hot dogs also to protect me?"

Steve folds in on himself and Eddie can almost imagine his sad dog ears flopping down. 

"No, I just—"

Eddie's suddenly in his line of vision, squatting in front of him to peer into his face mockingly.

"Was it just for fun? Little doggy wanted belly rubs and treats? Make everyone look at me weird because I'm scratching Steve Harrington between his ears?" he scoffs. "And dude, I would do all of it, if I knew it was you. You were worried it would be too much for me after Vecna? I'm a nerd! I eat that shit up. Do you know how much better I'd feel knowing werewolves are real?!"

Steve is not even surprised at his outburst. He just shuffles his legs and corrects softly:

"Lykans."

Eddie jumps up, throwing his hands into the air.

"Oh, now you're gonna tell me?! You lost your naming privileges, man, you're a werewolf, period."

He leans against the cupboards behind him, foot tapping restlessly. But he was angry at so many things at once, that he didn't know what to grasp first.

"Why did you avoid me?"

"I didn't—"

"You did," Eddie interrupts him. "I never saw you around, only the dog. And then you started avoiding everyone else too. Why?"

Steve sighs, slipping the half-thawed pack of peas away from his face. His body slumps like any traces of fight have just left him.

"I guess it was easier. I could just walk around, keep an eye on everyone, and not... explain myself."

"Can't lie without vocal chords, huh?"

Steve sends him a tired look, and Eddie feels the tiniest of bits bad. He raises his hands placatingly. 

"I'm not your therapist. But I thought I was your friend."

"You are! Just..."

"Just not good enough to share the truth with?" Eddie offers.

Steve groans, this time unfolding to fall against the chair's backrest. 

"See, this is why I prefer shifting. I don't have to explain my thoughts to others, nothing is weird and unspoken, and everyone fucking loves me. They pet me and tell me nice things. But when I'm a human, I'm getting laughed at, dumped, used for rides, and have to stay alone in a big empty house."

Eddie just blinks at him, his anger slowly shifting into concern. 

"That's uh, a lot to unpack there," he says gently, pursing his lips in thought. "You know we've been worried about you, right? That we don't see you anymore. I mean, I didn't know at the time, but the kids knew something was going on with you."

Steve scoffs.

"Yeah, they noticed when they had to go beg Nancy for rides."

"Dude." Eddie frowns at him, both irritated and concerned. "I am so tempted to get your other cheek right now. Didn't Dustin call you to clear the air between us?"

"Yes, because you called him first," Steve reminds him. 

"Still, he could have left it for us to deal with on our own. But he cares, so he reached out. " Eddie sighs. "He wants us to be friends, but most of all, he wants you to open up; not to me, but to the rest of the party. So why are you holing yourself up, man? What's wrong?"

Steve doesn't move from his semi-open position, but he crosses his arms, and he's looking away at Wayne's cap collection, visible through the open space to his right. 

Eddie just looks at him, the worry in his stomach growing like a parasite. He decides that maybe this is enough for today. Enough feelings, talking, and confessions. That it is time to clear the air.

And by 'clear' he means 'cloud it with smoke'.

"Let's put a pin on that," he says and finally, Steve looks back at him, both worried and curious. "I think we both need to chill out and I still have that weed stored away for you. And a really bad horror from Gareth. The blood looks like ketchup, you're gonna love it."

Tags: @noodle-shenaniganery @jaytriesstrangerthings @imaginary-maggie-waggie @samsoble @croatoan-like-its-hot

@dragonmama76 @storyranger @scoops-aboy86

[rookthorne]

⠄⠂⠁⠁⠂⠄⠄⠂ 𝐓𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐓𝐢𝐞𝐝

Surprises were not an unexpected occurrence when you come to think of it, not when you had Bucky Barnes as your boyfriend, though you had to give him credit where credit was due — he was a crafty, cunning man when it counted.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒑𝒂𝒊𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 ✯ Mechanic!Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒅 𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕 ✯ 2.0k

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒘𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 ✯ This is just pure filth ჻჻჻ SMUT: Unprotected piv, rough sex, multiple orgasms, restraints/blindfold, inappropriate use of Christmas lights, oral fixation, biting, finger sucking, so much dirty talk (this fic has the most dirty talk I have ever done), Dom!Bucky ჻჻჻ KINKS: Praise, degradation, sir, breeding

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒂𝒖𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓 𝒏𝒐𝒕𝒆 ✯ You can imagine why there was only one smut entry for this day, because I did end up yeeting myself after this one.

჻჻჻჻჻჻჻჻ 𝒆𝒗𝒆𝒏𝒕𝒔 ✯ @buckybarnesevents Build a Bucky Bingo ჻჻჻ Blindfolds (November), Dom Big Dick Bucky Barnes (January) — Masterlist ✯ @mcukinkbingo 𝗡𝟭 — Character is a Dom — Masterlist ✯ @sweetspicybingo Sweetheart Bingo — My Bed Now — Masterlist ✯ @rookthorne's Merry Buckmas — Masterlist

𝐇𝐢𝐬 𝐆𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐬 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

“Honey, sweetheart,” Bucky said innocently. 

There was a hint, a smidge of trouble in his voice — the very same tone he took when he wanted something far more than family friendly. You couldn’t help but smile as you sat on the couch in the living room, phone in hand; feigning blissful ignorance was a game you loved to play. 

Especially with him. 

A shadow moved in your peripherals, and this time, Bucky’s voice was a little closer. “Baby.”

The smile on your lips threatened to give you away, so you schooled your expression into being focussed. Your cover was made more successful by the furrow of your brow and tongue between your teeth.

“I know you’re listenin’ to me, kitten,” he drawled, and he sat on the couch next to you, his bright eyes staring so intently into the side of your face. “Stop pretending and look at me.”

“You know,” you began, locking your phone screen before you placed it on the side table. “Using all of the sweet names won’t get you what you want. I was Christmas shopping.”

Bucky shrugged, a coy smirk playing on his lips. “I don’t know, kitten—you seem to respond pretty instinctually to bein’ called all sorts a’things. Or maybe–” He leaned in closer, his breath fanning over your lips. “That’s just my pretty girl respondin’ to her sir.”

The breath in your chest hitched and morphed into a choked gasp. “Bucky!”

“What?” he asked, pouting. 

You sighed, then took a deep breath. “What do you want, you menace?”

“I want you, baby.” The couch creaked as he shuffled closer, and his hand moved to grab your jaw. His fingers gripped your face gently, and he moved your head, facing it forward so his lips could trace over the side of your neck. “I want you, spread under me an’ takin’ my cock like a good girl—that’s what I want.”

“You and your fucking words, sir,” you breathed, letting your eyes flutter shut. 

Bucky grinned against your neck, and his hand moved to press lightly against the front of your throat. “But this time, sweetheart,” he said, “We’re gonna do somethin’ new. Strip, then lay down on your stomach in bed.”

The moment you flew to your feet and followed his order was when you realised how right he was — the blood pooled in your cunt and your walls throbbed, empty and wanting. Your clothes flew to the corner of the room, a discarded pile, and you laid flat on your stomach atop the comforter, resting your chin on your crossed arms. 

Heavy footsteps came soon after, followed by, “Close your eyes, baby—I’m gonna blindfold you, then tie you up by your ankles and wrists.” Bucky appeared at the side of the bed, and he kneeled so you were eye level with him. “That sound alright?”

“Fucking yes,” you rushed, willing your heart to slow down — passing out before the fun began was not something you particularly wanted. “Please, I want that.” 

Bucky grinned. “Alright, hold tight now.” 

The soft fabric of the blindfold brushed your forehead, then rested over your eyes; all light was now gone, and you were cloaked in darkness. 

“How’s that, Honey?” he asked, the pads of his fingers brushing over your cheeks. “That okay?”

You nodded vigorously — the mystery of what he was doing, or what was to come, lit a fire inside you and the heat of it travelled to every nerve. The slick feel of wetness between your thighs made you rock your hips for momentary relief. 

An action Bucky did not miss. 

“You already achin’, kitten?” There was a dark chuckle, and you squeaked when his warm palm cupped your bare ass and pulled your cheek to the side, your core now exposed to the cool air. “You wanna be filled, huh?”

“Yeah– Yes, please,” you whined, pushing back against his hand. “Please, sir, I need it.”

“I know what you need, slut,” Bucky snapped, and his hand came down with a sharp crack against your skin. The pain startled you, and you gasped. “Patience.”

Rough hands moved down from your ass to your ankles, softly caressing the skin until you felt the tight grip of his hand around the back of your heel. “Here we go,” he whispered, and you nodded. The soft feel of some kind of fabric tickled the skin, and then, the fibres of something brushed over your ankle, tightening there. You could feel Bucky’s fingers between the strange material and your skin. “How’s that, baby?”

“It’s perfect,” you replied. “Now hurry up.” 

Bucky laughed and did the same to your other ankle, spreading your thighs wide and checking the tightness before you heard him walk up to the head of the bed. “Can I have your hands, please, sweetheart?”

“So sweet–” The covers ruffled as you held out your hands. “Why so gentlemanly, now?”

The same fabric on your ankles looped your wrists together, the hold strong and firm, but loose enough to tug free from. “Well,” Bucky said, his hand running up your arm. “There is one reason, baby.”

“And what’s that?”

Bucky chuckled darkly, and you felt the mattress dip at your side. The weight of his body on one knee made you tilt to the side. “So, Honey,” he said, and there was something in his voice you couldn’t place — your heart thundered against your ribs and in your cunt. “I thought ‘cause it’s Christmas, ‘n all.” There was a brush of skin over the back of your bare thighs, and you realised with a jolt that Bucky was naked, too. He settled between your thighs, his knees forcing your legs wider apart. “I wanted to tell you I love you.”

“Aw–”

“‘Cause I’m about to fuck you like I don’t.”

Your cry of shock was wrought with a moan at the feel of Bucky’s cock pressing into your heat, inch by thick inch. It was too much to bear, but he wasn’t stopping. “Fuck, kitten,” he hissed, his lips against the shell of your ear, “You’re already so fuckin’ tight, let me in, baby.”

“Oh–” You groaned loudly at the feel of his hips meeting your ass, and his arms caged you to the mattress. “God!”

“That’s not my name, sweetheart.” The words were followed with such a harsh thrust the bed slid over the floor. “Your cunt is fuckin’ made f’me, isn’t it? Jus’ perfect to fuck and fill—leave wantin’ and beggin’ for release.”

“Yessir!” you cried, your hands balling into fists. “Please, move—I can take it–”

“Can you really?” Bucky said through gritted teeth. Hot puffs of air brushed your temple, and you felt his lips trail towards your earlobe, then down to your neck. “I know you can, slut—but whether– Fuck, whether you can manage not to break.”

“Break me, break me, need it– Sir, please,” you babbled, whimpering from the lack of stimulation when his hips stilled. “Fuc–”

Bucky’s hand covered your mouth, and he shoved two fingers between your lips to rest over your tongue. “Shut the fuck up, kitten—suck on them like you would my cock.”

“Hnng!” you managed, and your tongue ran over the pads of his fingers while your lips closed around them. The hollows of your cheeks deepened with the effort. “Mm!”

“Yeah, fuck it,” Bucky growled, low in his throat. “I don’t wanna hold back—not anymore, this cunt’s jus’ too perfect.” 

The first thrust was harsh; the second even harder; the third made your vision white out. 

Mercifully, Bucky took his hand out of your mouth and placed it back on the bed, the inner side of his elbows brushing your sides with the force of his thrusts. 

You couldn’t help the moans that fell from your lips like a prayer, his name and title loud over the slick sounds of his cock forcing its way in and out of your cunt. “Sir! Sir, please—feels s’good!”

“Tha’s it, baby,” Bucky praised, and his hips moved harder — the slap of skin a symphony with his grunts. “Call for me, baby—go on.”

“Ah– Fucking, please!” A loud ringing sound accompanied the pounding of blood in your ears, while an unbearable heat burned through your core, tearing your reservations to shred as it swept through. “I think–”

“If you can still think, slut,” Bucky growled, and he lowered his head into your neck. “Then ‘m not fuckin’ you hard enough.”

His hips jackhammered into you, fucking you with abandon into the mattress while he bit and sucked on your neck. Your mouth fell open in a silent scream, just as the pleasure crested and rolled into something unbearable–

“Tha’s it, good kitten, good slut,” Bucky cooed, and he spread his legs, forcing yours wider. “Can feel you—give it to me, baby.”

The first sparks of your orgasm stole your breath, and you gasped, pulling in breath to your desperate lungs. “Sir! I’m–”

Bucky moaned, a deep, guttural sound that reverberated through your whole being, and your climax swept you away. Distantly, you could hear his calls of, “Fuckin’ good girl, good girl!”

You could feel him fuck you through the throes, but each thrust forward sparked the climax into starting again; the rawness of your throat turned your moans raw and rasped. 

Even so soon after your first, the start of a second orgasm crept closer — you couldn’t voice it, but Bucky knew. 

“You’re gonna give me more, kitten,” he demanded, and he ground his cock deep, forcing you down hard onto the mattress — his cockhead continued to brush against that spot, making you dizzy from the pleasure while tears welled on your lash line. “Then I’ll fuckin’ fill you up ‘till it takes—fuck a baby into you, over and over– Fuck, yeah, baby, tha’s it!”

You wailed as a second climax tore through, fiercer and harsher than the first. 

Bucky’s hips faltered in their punishing rhythm, and you could hear his grunts and moans over your pants for air. “Please, please,” you rasped. There was suddenly light filling your vision and you shut your eyes at the shock of it — the blindfold landed on the covers with a light thump next to your head. “Wha–”

The glint of colour caught your blurred vision — you blinked to clear it, and you found your wrists encircled by tinsel and Christmas lights. And in your dazed state, you started to deliriously giggle. “You think it’s funny, baby?” Bucky purred, and you could feel his smirk; hear it in his words. “Why don’t you cum again for your sir, so he can fill you up?”

“Hnng– Yeah,” you moaned, “Please, please–” 

“You hear that slick while I fuck you, huh? You hear it?” Bucky asked, his voice deep and just as wrecked.

You nodded, closing your eyes to listen to his hitched moans and wet sounds of his cock as he fucked you deep and hard, the long strokes against your walls heavenly. “Mhm–”

“Give it to me then, slut,” he snapped, driving his hips faster, “Fuckin’ perfect pussy, can feel you squeezin’ me and beggin’ to be fucked an’ filled, baby—c’mon.”

There was no time to voice the pressure you felt as a third, devastating climax burst — you could feel your release coat your inner thighs and drip down onto the bed, and Bucky’s cock only forced more of it out. “Yes, yes, yes,” he grunted into your neck, “good girl.” 

The hard pressure of his teeth over the skin of your neck intensified the fire in your veins. 

Bucky’s muffled moans grew in volume when his thrusts fell out of rhythm. “Gimme it, sir,” you moaned weakly, canting your ass up to meet his thrusts. “Fill me up—need it so bad.”

“Fuck.” He slammed his hips forward, pushing his cock to the hilt while it twitched. “Fuck, fuck, y’feel s’good, kitten,” he rasped, and you started to feel the pressure from his release coating your walls. A guttural moan filled the air and you whimpered. 

“Good girl, good girl,” Bucky praised, lowering his body over yours while his cock still twitched in your cunt. “Takin’ me so well, tha’s it—jus’ a bit more, good girl.” 

Your sense for words had long vanished, so you laid there, under his weight feeling protected and full of him. 

Eventually, you managed to mumble, “Happy Christmas t’a me.” 

You felt Bucky’s chest shake with laughter against your back, and you smiled dazedly. “Merry fuckin’ Christmas, Honey,” he cooed, kissing your temple. 

⠈⠂⠄ 𝐢𝐧𝐛𝐨𝐱 | 𝐥𝐢𝐛𝐫𝐚𝐫𝐲 | 𝐚𝐨𝟑  ⠄⠂⠁

⠈⠂⠄𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐜𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 ⠄⠂⠁

[yurinaa-world]

hello! can u do reader who likes to rest on characters lap? like whenever reader couldn't sleep but feel tired, they goes to character's lap while they're doing smth and reader sleeps :3 any characters but i prefer jing yuan n blade pls :D (its okay if u don't want to write this, i don't wanna pressure u haha and sorry for my bad english :'d i love ur works btw!!)

Characters: Blade and Jing Yuan x Gender-neutral Reader

Synopsis: laying in their lap while they're doing things

Warnings: Fluff and spelling mistakes,

Notes: IM SO SORRY I messed this up so hard, I wrote then I looked at the request, and I mentally slapped myself, If you didn't like this I would be fine rewriting it!

𝐵𝓁𝒶𝒹𝑒

This guy literally doesn’t do anything all day, just has his eyes closed and just rests (Warning: I love making reader a very little dramatic when it comes to Blade)

Dead silence; he did not say anything to you once you lay on his lap with a smile on your lips. You couldn’t help but feel a bit awkward. He’s always been quiet, but right now, you're starting to feel the silence stabbing you from every angle.

"What aren't you going to say?" you asked, opening one of your eyes to stare at him from below. "Want attention that badly?" He gave you an amused look, looking down on you as if you were some kind of little child. "Well, there's no fun if I just lay here," you pouted, looking at the ceiling as well as at him, his fingers going through your hair. He's figured out what you want from him—attention, of course—yet he just does what you want him to do, or you'll complain about it all day.

So instead, he stays silent and plays with your hair, but his hand moves to your face, creasing your lips with his calloused fingers. "You're such a pain," he whispers, leaning down to kiss you and then moving away before saying, "Yes, yes, you kiss someone you find annoying." You rolled your eyes, closed your eyes again, and sighed loudly.

"I know, bladie, you can't keep yours off; no man can!" You laugh, obviously joking.

What a personality you have.

𝒥𝒾𝓃𝑔 𝒴𝓊𝒶𝓃

“How needy, hmm? What a pleasure it was to spend time with you. a pity I have work to do." Jing Yuan teased while you lay in his lap, watching him from above: reading his boring yet important paper, “You offered and I took it; you know it’s unkind to decline someone." You responded by tracing shapes on the thigh you’re lying on.

"If you don’t want me, then I'll" you cut off before you could even finish your sentence. “No need; you’ve already come, so you're going to stay like this." He said before turning the page of his paper, "I was just joking." He said while ruffling through your hair, making you frown a little, that he messed with your hair.

You both lay in silence. You broke first, asking, “When do you think your paperwork is going to be finished?" He chuckled at your comment.

"A couple of hours, it seems."

“Hurry it up, and I’ll give you a gift."

You stated matter of factly crossing your arms in front of your chest, “What kind of gift?” He asked curiously, looking down at you, and you shrugged your shoulders. “It’s a surprise. Do it and find out,” he chuckled at your words.

"Alright, I'll take your word, but this better be a good gift since I'm working so hard for you, hmm, don’t you think?"

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[lemoncrushh]

Too Long

Summary: It's been too long since you and Harry have had sex.

Warnings: Smut, a little bit of angst 18+ ONLY

Word Count: 1510

A/N: From my 2016 collection. Real Harry x reader.

"Well, that was fun," you said sarcastically as you unbuckled your shoes and pulled them off your feet.

"It was alright," muttered Harry. He stood near you, unbuttoning his shirt before shrugging out of it and tossing it in the laundry hamper.

You huffed out a breath as you rose from the bed, reaching behind yourself to unzip your dress. When you couldn't quite reach it, you quickly gave up and walked to the bathroom, shutting the door behind you.

The fact that Harry was oblivious to your attitude just made things worse. This was the third party you'd been to in less than a month. You understood Harry was a busy guy, and normally you would have been glad and even excited to join him at these functions. But now it seemed like you were only going because it was the only chance you got to be with him. You hadn't had any time alone with him in you didn't know how long except for the sporadic late nights when you'd decided to wait up for him on the sofa only to have him come home too exhausted to even have a conversation, let alone anything else. He'd mumbled something like "sorry, love, 'm goin' t'bed" before climbing the stairs, leaving you disappointed and sexually frustrated.

The parties weren't much of a consolation. You spent most of the evening making the rounds, chatting with some people you'd met before, some you hadn't. But the conversations were usually all the same, and in the end you just wished you were at home watching a movie in bed.

You'd washed off your makeup and were brushing your teeth when you finally noticed your shoulders were shaking from silent sobs. You missed him. You miss him so much it hurt. His lips, his hands on your body, his breath on your face. You knew he loved you, but sometimes you wondered if he missed you too.

Spitting out your toothpaste and wiping your mouth on a towel, you opened the bathroom door to find Harry sitting on the chair in the corner of the bedroom, his jeans still on, his boots next to his socked feet. He was leaning forward, his head in his hand. When he didn't look up as you approached, you figured he hadn't heard you.

"Could you..." you began, your words faltering when he lifted his gaze. His mouth was pursed in a deep frown, and you thought you detected a hint of wetness in his eyes.

"What?" he asked softly.

You cleared your throat and turned around. "Would you mind helping me with this zipper?"

"Oh, sure," you heard him say.

You let out a sigh as you felt his fingers maneuver the zipper on your dress, pulling it down slowly.

"Thanks," you mumbled, ready to walk to the closet when Harry's hands on your waist stopped you, pulling you backwards. He wrapped his arms around you as you fell onto his lap, his head on your shoulder.

"Baby..." he whined, his lips dragging across your skin, "I miss you."

Your hands grabbed his arms at your stomach.

"What?" you sounded. Although you knew what he'd said, you just wanted to hear him confirm it.

"I miss you so much," he repeated, pulling you even closer to him.

You shifted slightly in his lap to look at him. "Really?"

"God, yes," he replied, taking your face in his hands. Bringing his mouth to yours, he kissed you gently . "I'm sorry I've been so busy. I haven't meant to neglect you...to neglect us."

"Harry..." you whispered, suddenly at a loss for words.

"I know you don't wanna go to these things," he continued.

You shook your head, looking down at your hands. "It's not that. I just-"

"I know," Harry nodded, the pads of his thumbs tracing circles on your cheeks. "It's been too long."

You closed your eyes, taking in a deep breath and letting it out. Biting your bottom lip, you whispered, "Yeah."

Your eyes still shut, you felt Harry's hand leave your face and travel down your neck to the strap of your dress. As he slid it across your shoulder, his lips met your skin once more, giving you chills of excitement. You turned around again so that your back was to him while he held back your hair and kissed your neck. Harry slid down the other strap of your dress so that it fell down to your waist, revealing your breasts. Your hands gripped the arms of the chair when he cupped them, his mouth sucking on the tender skin below your ear. You let out a tiny moan as he took your nipples between his index fingers and thumbs, pinching them slightly.

"I want you," you heard him growl in your ear, his breath tickling you and igniting your senses.

With a small sound rising from your throat, you stood from the chair, letting your dress drop to the floor. Then turning around, you faced Harry, a look in his eyes that you hadn't seen in weeks. His perfect lips were slightly parted, almost in a pout and it took you only a second to crawl back onto his lap, straddling him and covering his mouth with yours.

"I want you, too," you whispered in between kisses.

Harry's hands roamed up your thighs to the sides of your lacy underwear. He urged them down with his fingers until you broke from the kiss to stand again, shimmying out of them. You took the opportunity to unbutton his jeans, pulling them down with his boxers while he helped you until they were in a pile on the floor with your dress. You licked your lips as you took a second to admire his erection before returning to your perch above him.

"God, you're sexy," he groaned, taking your nipple into his mouth, allowing his tongue to swirl over and around it.

You moaned again as you began to grind against him, the need to feel him inside you growing stronger with every movement.

"Shit," Harry breathed. "You're so fucking wet."

With a nod, you lifted your hips and took his hard cock in your hand, aiming it at your center. As always, Harry let you slide down slowly, adjusting to his size until you reached his hip bone. You gulped in a breath before gently lifting up, riding him at an easy pace.

Your hands on his shoulders, you gazed into his gorgeous green eyes. They spoke volumes as you simply watched each other in silence, your hips pumping slowly. Finally, Harry brushed your hair off your shoulder, sliding his hand under your ear.

"Kiss me," he requested.

You happily obliged, slipping your tongue inside to meet his. You felt his other hand grip your hip tightly as he moaned against your mouth. You began to move a little faster which made his fingers dig into your skin deeper.

"Oh, baby, I missed you," he sighed, leaning his forehead against yours.

"Me too," you whispered.

"You feel so fucking good," he blinked.

"I know," you half teased.

Harry chuckled, nuzzling your neck and biting your shoulder.

"Yeah, you do," he agreed, lifting his head to look at you again. He wore that smirk that always did you in. You grinned back at him before biting your lip and riding him faster. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

"Fuck me," he begged. Gripping your waist with both hands, he guided you where he wanted you. "Oh, God, yeah baby, fuck me."

You let out a few whines as your increased rhythm caused the friction to bring you closer to your peak.

"Harry..." you cried, feeling the orgasm nearing.

"Yeah," he breathed. "Come with me, darlin'. 'm so close."

You bounced on his cock even faster, your fingers tangled in the back of his hair. Just as he let out a deep, guttural moan, your own orgasm ripped through you. You called out his name again as you rode him to the finish.

"Oh my God," you panted, your head falling against his shoulder. "Harry..."

Harry was silent for a few moments except for the sound of his breathing. He wrapped his arms around your stomach, pulling you as close to him as possible. You could feel his heart beating in chest against yours as you both came down.

"I'm so sorry, baby," he finally said, his voice raspy. "Never gonna let that much time go again."

You made a contented sound against his skin. "Good."

"You're incredible."

You laid against him for another minute or two before sitting up to look at his face.

"How much time will you let go?" you inquired.

Harry's mouth curled up into a grin as he ran his fingers up and down your back. With a shrug he said, "Might be willing to accept an hour or two."

You beamed at him before giving him a kiss on the lips.

"I can live with that," you agreed.

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