#because the only thing that came to mind was that one part in the overtime comics | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

merakiui · 2 months

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feel free to delete if this is perhaps too raunchy of an ask!! but how do u think the twst guys masturbate? do they use their hands, fleshlights/onaholes? are they loud or quiet? do they rely on their imagination or sexual material? etc etc lolol

I'm sorry that this is a bit of a sleazy question, but it has been pestering me ^^;;

Nothing is ever too sleazy when it comes to smut. <3 this ask gave me so many thoughts,,,

✧ Riddle only ever masturbates when it's absolutely necessary (i.e. he needs to de-stress and relax or it's a poorly timed erection that won't go away and he's too impatient to wait it out). Sometimes his mind wanders when he's studying. He doesn't mean for it to, but he often thinks back on the day's events when he's settling down for the evening and suddenly you pop into his mind and his brain is working overtime...... orz he uses his hand and lotion/lube and gets off to lewd thoughts in his imagination. It gets the job done. I like to imagine he's eerily quiet because he fears someone might hear him. That, and he probably learned how to do everything quietly after living so many years under his mother's roof. >_< he's biting his lip or stuffing his tie in his mouth to muffle any sounds that may slip out.

✧ Trey does it when he feels like it. All he really needs is his hand and some lotion and he's good. Sometimes he doesn't even use lotion; it really depends. I like to think Trey watches hardcore porn even though he seems like he may be into soft, sweet vanilla things on the surface. Definitely enjoys food play porn. Cater probably gifted him an onahole, and Trey uses it and imagines it's you. Does the trick every time. :) he's quiet, save for the few occasional grunts and groans.

✧ Cater absolutely watches porn. He scrolls through his favorite swimsuit models' Magicam accounts while he's moving his hand up and down along his dick. <3 sometimes he browses the selection of sex toys on his favorite online erotic stores. Although I also think he has a folder full of pictures of you and he looks through those when he's masturbating. You could be fully clothed and yet he's imagining cumming all over that cute, smiling face... depending on the day and how horny he is, he can be either loud or quiet while he's masturbating.

✧ Ace,,,, I want to preface this by saying he absolutely has a cum sock. T_T and you know he'll never tell you which one it is, so never ask to borrow socks from him for whatever reason. Sure, he washes it, but do you really want to use a sock that has been wrapped around his dick more than once in the past? ;;;;; Ace definitely watches porn. He masturbates a lot. Typical horny guy who has sex on his mind often. He's not very loud, but then he's also not very quiet either. He tends to lose himself in the sensations.

✧ Deuce tries not to masturbate all the time, but he can't help it. It's the same situation as Ace: he's a horny guy who gets worked up over the smallest things. A breeze could probably get him hard. </3 you don't know this, but the majority of his hard-ons are the result of you. He thinks of you all the time... things you say and do make him feel so hot. He uses his hand. It's impossible to use any toys in a dorm with three other roommates, and his hand makes things easy and simple. He tries to be quiet (he really does), but he grunts and breathes heavy a lot. >_<

✧ Leona's too lazy to search for porn that'll get him off, so he just sits back, shuts his eyes, and fucks into his hand at the thought of you. Ideally, it'd be much better if you were here and he could sink himself into your tight heat. Leona's a mess when he's in rut. He always tells you to keep away if you know what's good for you because even he's not sure he'd be able to restrain himself if you came into his room smelling so sweet while he's in rut. He's not very loud. Soft groans, maybe a growl here and there, but for the most part he's quiet.

✧ Ruggie does it more often than one might think. It's hard work running errands for Leona. He's got to get some stress-relief in somehow! He doesn't use anything fancy. Just his hand and some porn will do. Most of the time, though, he thinks of you. It's a little embarrassing how hard and needy he gets when he's fantasizing about you. <3 lots of whimpering and soft groans...

✧ Jack does it when he feels like it or when it's absolutely necessary. I feel like Jack often represses his horny thoughts by exercising and working out, so he doesn't masturbate often. The usual hand and lotion combination. It's bad when he's in rut, though. No logical thoughts in his brain. Just the ever-present desire to fuck and mate and breed.

✧ Azul......... my beloved darling. <3 he bought an onahole at the suggestion of a certain blue-haired board game club member and it was over for him. orz I think Azul whines a lot. He's panting like he's in heat. He gets so wrapped up in his fantasies. I don't think he's an avid porn watcher, but then this is because he's picky and has very specific tastes (it's you. you're the specific tastes). In merform, he uses one of those full body onaholes and pretends it's you. One tentacle wrapped around the silicone waist and bouncing it on his hectocotylus. He's definitely broken more than one sex toy LOL. Accidentally filled one of his onaholes with eggs and was so frustrated that it wasn't you. :(

✧ Jade is a menace (part one) because he's a Shameless Freak who is too curious for his own good. Instead of a cum sock, he probably has a jar. He makes it a fun game to see how much he can fill within a certain amount of time lol. Jade's sex fantasies are CRAZY. Sometimes he gets off to porn; sometimes his thoughts are enough to have him cumming into a tissue or his hand (or the jar). He's definitely more quiet than he is loud. In merform, anything goes. Jade's gotten great practice fingering his slit, so he'll use this expertise on you when the two of you finally fuck.

✧ Floyd is a menace (part two) because he does it all. Uses spit, lube, lotion, blood????? It doesn't matter how clean or viable it is; he wants to try it. He's messy with it. Probably has a cum sock as well. Human sex toys are so fascinating to him, so he's willing to sample it all. Whatever catches his interest, really. Most days if he's feeling something quick he'll just use his hand and look at things on his phone. Definitely has vocal range when he's masturbating. Some days he's loud and other days he's quiet. Like the above, Floyd's also down to do anything and everything in merform. You should 100% eat him out when he's in merform. Quickest way to have the eel wrapped around you (literally and figuratively).

✧ Kalim does it whenever he feels like it! He's also curious and wants to try all manner of things. He used an onahole once and was hooked. It's just so great. <3 he's even named it after you. T_T I think Kalim's louder than most when he really gets into it, but other than that he can be quiet sometimes. Not always, though. He throws his head back and gasps a lot when he's on the verge of cumming, eyes squeezed shut as he succumbs.

✧ Jamil does it when he has time. </3 his schedule tends to get busy when he's looking after Kalim, balancing his own life, studying, club stuff....... I like to imagine Jamil gets horny so easily and quite often, but he's the repressed type of horny because he never has enough time for himself!!! When he does masturbate, it's usually just with his hand. He hardly makes any noise, save for the occasional groan or pleasured hum.

✧ Vil does it whenever he's in the mood. It's healthy for the mind and body to masturbate every now and then, so it's not like he's against a little self-care time. <3 he probably sets aside time for it on the days when he knows he'll need some stress relief. Sometimes these things can't be planned for, so a little spontaneity is okay. I feel like Vil doesn't get too complicated with it (that's saved for when he's with you hehe), so he probably just uses his hand. If he's using any sort of toys, he makes sure the material is safe and won't hurt him or his skin. He's also very picky when it comes to toys and other products like lube and lotion. Most days his hand is enough. I think he's the type to gasp. Maybe a low moan here and there. In any case, all of his sounds always sound so beautifully debauched.

✧ Rook......... it goes without saying he does it whenever he wants and can get off to anything and everything. orz especially candid pictures of you!!!! I think he's also a type who is willing to try all kinds of things. He prefers the sensuality of skin to skin contact, so he's more than fine with using just his hand. "As nature intended," he'll probably say. T_T Rook is a hunter who is always so eerily quiet and stealthy. I like to think it's much the same when he's masturbating. Mostly quiet, save for the occasional sound every now and then.

✧ Epel also falls into the category of Ace and Deuce. He's a little sex-brained sometimes. >_< but can you blame him? There was hardly anyone else in Harveston his age and now he's at NRC and you're there and he's just,,,, down horrendous. I feel like he tries so hard to sound "manly" or more mature, but the truth is that he whimpers and whines like he's in heat when he gets really into it. Mainly uses his hand, but I think he'd be curious and buy an onahole for himself.

✧ Idia.......... T_T this one is already self-explanatory, but he's using his hand, lube/lotion, an onahole based on his favorite anime girl, etc. He watches hentai and reads r18 doujinshi of his favorite series. He's probably one of the few twst characters who does it so frequently. Lots of pent-up horny. OTL if you're chatting with him online, he jerks off to your messages. He keeps clips of your voice from the times you VC in Magicord and he replays them while he's fucking the onahole like he intends to knock it up. ^^;;; I think he whines a lot, but then maybe he's good at being mostly quiet when he's masturbating. Either way, he's left breathless every time.

✧ Malleus didn't even know pornographic imagery and videos on cellphones existed, so his idea of porn is probably a tasteful nude painting. Imagine the Renaissance nudes, but Malleus's probably commissioned someone to paint you like that. He's so sexually awkward, so an exposed ankle or shoulder or even an outfit that looks so wonderful on you could get him worked up. ;;;;;; he probably uses his hand, but sometimes he ruts into his pillows/sheets. orz he groans a lot. He definitely visits you post-masturbation and greets you as if he wasn't just picturing you beneath him, writhing and sobbing in pleasure. Post-nut clarity for Malleus is just him realizing you'd be much better than his hand or bedsheets.

✧ Lilia uses and does it all. He loves experimenting. He's always curious and willing to try everything once. At this point the question is: what hasn't he done? Sometimes he's quiet and sometimes he's loud. Sometimes he watches hentai (as per his online friend's recommendations) and sometimes he uses his imagination. He's always finding ways to try new things. Although lately he's enjoyed using your mouth. <3

✧ Silver does it when he's feeling up for it. I imagine he doesn't get horny very often, but when he does......... 👀 he just uses his hand and nothing else, but I'm sure he's heard from others how good certain things are. Silver's so genuinely honest, so I feel like he'd want to know if there's any merit to an onahole versus an actual hole (your hole). Something to try in the future perhaps... I think he can be quiet, but then I also imagine he groans softly a lot!!!

✧ Sebek....... he tries not to, but the horny always catches up to him. He does it more often than you'd think, but he refuses to use anything other than his hand. He's stubborn! Definitely makes a lot of noise and he doesn't even realize it.

✧ Rollo didn't do it much (only when it was a necessity), but after meeting you that changes. He goes from going weeks without touching himself to doing it nearly every other day. You make him feel so insatiably horny. He usually just relies on his imagination, but sometimes I like to picture him reading erotic literature. >:D he definitely relies on his hand and lotion/lube, and he's also another one who is scarily quiet.

✧ Neige does it fairly often! He likes using his hand, but then he also likes using an onahole. He's so obsessed with you to the point where I think you'd be the only thing that can get him properly worked up. He cums to thoughts of you, to pictures of you, to the sound of your voice, to the smell of you, to your clothes... he's so cute,,, definitely the type to whine and be noisy if he's really feeling good.

✧ Che'nya also does it often! He's a curious cat, so he'll want to try all kinds of things. He does it all. His ability to turn invisible makes him great for watching you during private times or secretly groping you in a crowded place and you're completely unaware of his presence hehe. He's also got a vocal range, and it really depends. Sometimes he can be so quiet, and other times he's so loud you think he's in heat.

✧ Fellow....... tell me you can see the vision: room dimly lit by candlelight or something and Fellow's leaning back against the headboard of his bed and he's slowly running his hand along the length of his lubed up cock. Slow and steady, dragging it out, edging himself to thoughts of you! >:D I feel like this is one of his favorite ways to masturbate. He has time. <3 why rush? He's not as loud as you may think. When he's alone, he probably gasps and groans a lot. The type to squeeze his eyes shut and bow his head when he's on the verge of cumming.

#twisted chit chat #n/sfw

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hunnylagoon · 4 months

Text

Right Where You Left Me

Pt 3: Being So Normal

Ellie Williams x Reader

Horror pushes tears from my eyes as I uncover the corpses of your past relationships. Each of them dead and lifeless as the next. Because that is what you do, you ruin what is good and it makes me miss you less and less as everyday goes by.

Premise: You and Ellie were childhood friends until you drifted apart. Funny thing about soulmates is that they tend to find their way back to each other. On this night some questionable choices lead you to a vulnerable state where you run out of options.

Warnings: Angst / reader has religious issues / drinking / smoking / drugs

Part one here!

Part two here!

Part three here!

ELLIE

It wasn't as fun as I thought to watch you fall apart.

The morning after Christmas you left before I even woke, your makeshift bed made. You gathered all of the boxes of shit I collected off your dad's lawn and took off, leaving behind nothing more than a letter thanking my dad for his hospitality.

When I came back to Northridge a week later it was like I was looking at a new person.

Everything that had happened was swept under the rug, you lied and told the girls that you had a great Christmas. You started picking up overtime shifts, you were out more than you were at home.

I watch you stumble through the doors at five AM, makeup smeared, hair a mess and the fakest smile I have ever borne witness to, plastered across your face. You worked the closing shift almost every night and would go partying afterwards with your shitty co-workers who enabled this type of ruination.

I saw your stories too, shot after shot, In every single picture you nurse a drink in your hand or a cigarette wedged between your fingers. When did you even start smoking?

Abby and Cat didn't know just had bad you were but Dina was catching on. I remember how she would go out with you at the beginning, in her mind it had just been harmless fun until it was a nightly occurrence she started to get concerned.

It's like you've euthanized the person you used to be.

You can't even stand to be in a quiet room so you will it with nonsense conversation, hardly even words and laugh at your own jokes.

You used to glow. Back in middle school, you glowed like a candle that smelled of pumpkins and lattes, your love felt like sinking into a warm bath, comfort and security. In high school you glowed like the moon, no one could pry their wondering eyes away from your nerve-wracking beauty, gentle and empathetic.

Though now you do not glow, you burn. You burn like the end of a cigarette, the bud fluttering to the ground just to be crushed by the heel of muddy Converse. The spark of a lighter to ignite your stale menthol cigarette, slipped from bony fingers like clumsy matchsticks to the wilderness, to set what once was beautiful aflame.

Fire is only beautiful while it burns, I knew that soon you would smother yourself out to ashes.

I've been nourishing my withering body with 50-cent packets of ramen noodles.

I know that I'm not well, in fact, I think I've fallen off the rails.

When was the last time I got a full night of sleep? I'm not sure.

My days and nights bleed together and I can hardly differentiate the two. I hate everyone but I'm so starved for love I am searching everywhere for it, I look for it in dingy clubs and roadkill off the side of a highway, the bottom of a solo cup and the arms of one-night stands, I have even learned to lick it off silver knives. They have taken the rosery from my hand and replaced it with hard liquor.

I went out last night to forget like I do every single night. I look to the moon and pretend it is its being with thoughts and feelings, I act like I talk to it and it has said that it shines just for me.

Tonight, I will go out again. I smear glitter over my eyelids and slip into a silver sequin dress that doesn't even fall past my fingertips. I force my scabbed and bleeding feet into white stilettos that are sure to damage them even further. When I look in the mirror I feel a new sense of bitterness, like nicotine on the tip of my tongue, my face is thinning and my eyes are sunken in, dark bags hanging below the dull irisis. I cover it in concealer and bronze my face to help me look some sort of alive.

"Where are you going?" Dina asks me as I walk from my room and towards the front door, she has a tote bag packed up, her car keys in hand.

"The Monarch," I answer, it was a club on the main street, it tended to be the busiest also infamous for sketchy activity. My eyebrows furrow as I look at the tote bag in hand "Where are you going?"

"I'm going to Jesse's for the night, " She says, tonight her hair is loose and falling over her shoulders "Are you sure you wanna go out tonight?"

I nod, suddenly feeling vulnerable in my choice of clothing "Yeah," Sensing her judgement, I'm already getting defensive "I'm in college, all I do and go to work and school-

"Who's fault is that?" Dina cuts me off and my words fail me, I don't know what to say. She looks at me with disappointment glinting in her dark eyes.

My phone dings and I check the notification "My ride is here."

"Don't stay out too late."

"I won't," We both know that I am lying.

I have been many things over the years, a pirate, a cowboy, a warrior; over the past five months alone I have been a lonely girl and a saint, now I am a drunk who drowns out her worries in vodka and overly sweet cocktails.

"To being young, dumb, and broke!" Kayla raises her shot, and the rest of the group does the same. The small glasses clink together, and some of the vodka spills before we all swallow them back and slam them back onto the bar.

The central focal point was the expansive dance floor, alive with bodies moving in rhythmic unison. Multicoloured strobe lights cut through the haze, creating an otherworldly atmosphere.

The bar, a gleaming expanse of polished metal, beckoned with the promise of libations. Bartenders, clad in stylish attire, skillfully craft cocktails. The mirrored backdrop reflected the kaleidoscope of lights and the animated conversations that unfolded in this hub of social convergence.

Overhead, suspended fixtures resembling metallic sculptures add to the overstimulation.

"Welcome back," The bartender, Mitch, smiles at me, I know him by name now that I've been bouncing around from club to club almost every night. "Long Island ice tea?" He asks, to which I respond with a nod. He's memorized my drink too.

Kayla is beside me while the others have dispersed to dance or converse, she sips a dirty martini. Her beautiful copper hair is styled into loose curls, she is clad in all black, a tube top, a mini skirt and tall boots as well as a slightly oversized leather jacket thrown overtop. She looks like the definition of a cool girl.

Everyone liked her.

"So how are things with the roommates?" She asks me, her green eyes piercing mine, she has a slight smile on her perfect lips.

"It's fine," I lied, again. I knew Dina was getting tired of taking care of me when I was too drunk to make my own way home, all of the girls that Ellie brought over hated me. I haven't been seeing much of Abby but Cat and I were actually good.

I can tell that Kayla doubts my words but she carries on to another topic "Are you ready to get fucked up tonight?"

"Yes, ma'am," I giggle. Around the curved bar, I see a woman, she's in a red top and black jeans, her hair in a mousy brown shag cut. Obviously, she caught my eye. "Do you think she's gay?"

Kayla discreetly turns to look at the woman, she turns back to me grinning "No shit."

The woman catches me staring at her and smiles at me, of course, she has perfectly straight white teeth and a pretty smile. I sheepishly smile back "Hey, Mitch?" I wait for the bartender to give me his attention "Two shots of Everclear?"

That's how the majority of my night plays out; I dance for a minute, swaying to- not really swaying, I was dancing in a way that became a hazard to those around me then return to the bar to down more drinks.

"Hey," I hear a voice beside me, it isn't one I recognize, and when I face it, I feel my heartbeat pick up. It was the woman I had been eyeing, now that she's this close I can see the freckles scattered on her face. "Do you wanna dance?"

I can't help when my face splits into a smile, "For sure," I slip off the barstool and follow her onto the dancefloor, the lights are orange and hazy or maybe the haziness is caused by my drunken state. The woman says something to me but it's drowned out by the overwhelmingly loud music "What?"

"I'm Karris," She repeats, smiling down at me.

"Cool!" I say. I followed Karris' lead with the dancing, she had a certain confidence in her.

I swayed with each ungraceful movement. Karris, the opposite of me is attuned to the music, moved with a confident fluidity that balanced out my careless stumbles. She laughs at my dancing "Here, I'll help you out." She shouts, trying to be heard over the Rhianna song blasting in my ears.

She comes up behind me, snaking her hands down my torso until they find a resting spot on my hips. With a firm grip, she slows me down, and now I'm moving with her, as one.

My sequin dress shimmered with every twist and move, like a mirrorball, I too might hang. As the light shifts I could've sworn I saw Ellie in the face of Karris.

I felt the liquor hit me all at once and my body became loose, melting into Karris, I'm almost limp against her touch. She's in front of me now and my arms are hooked around her neck while her slim hands lay on her midriff.

Her eyebrows furrow as she says something to me but once again it it lost in all of the noise, I just laugh, pretending like I heard what she was saying and hoping that it wasn't something about her dog dying.

The pop song changes into some song in French, I can't make out the words. Wait, I aced every French test in high school, I step away from Karris, squinting my eyes as I stand still in the middle of the dancefloor trying to process the lyrics.

Je veux te voir- I need you, no, that doesn't sound right. I want to see you, that's it.

je veux t'avoir- I want to hold you.

I want to hold you? Is that it? When did my French get so rough? I can't even think straight.

I swear on every god I was so drunk that I forgot I was in the middle of a dancefloor, it had slipped from my mind that I was dancing with someone, and all I could think about was my French classes from high school.

Age fifteen - Grade 10

The French lesson seemed to be even more boring than usual that day. Monsieur Cargin was babbling on and on about how there could be a room full of women but if there was one male rat you would refer to them using ils instead of elles. It was the same lesson I had learned every single year in French.

It took Monsieur Cargin thirty minutes to announce the project. "Pour ce devoir, vous écrirez une lettre à un camarade de classe sur vous-même, vous pourrez inclure des informations sur votre famille, vos passe-temps, vos sujets préférés et peut-être un bon souvenir. Si vous êtes ami avec votre partenaire, vous pouvez écrire avec lui sur quelque chose que vous attendez avec impatience. La lettre fera au minimum un paragraphe, je viserais plus haut si vous voulez une bonne note." Easy enough, a letter to a classmate about your self. "Avant de demander, vous pouvez choisir vos propres partenaires."

I look right over to Ellie from across the room after he mentions choosing our own partners, she doesn't meet my gaze though, she looks as lost as ever, rifling through some papers in her binder and I'm not even sure she understood a word of what the teacher said.

Monsieur Cargin lets us begin our project, everyone gets up from their seat to search for a partner; Ellie, seeing that everyone is standing up, gets up as well. I wave her down to my desk, she crouches beside it and asks "What the fuck are we supposed to be doing?"

I explain the project to her while she hangs off my desk and nods at everything I'm saying, giving me her full attention "Do you get it now?"

"Yes."

The next day we finished writing the letters and had to give them to each other before we turned it in, I gave Ellie my letter first.

Ellie,

Je suis heureux que nous soyons amis, non seulement parce que nos parents nous ont forcés à l'être, mais parce que tu es mon âme sœur dans chaque vie. J'aimerais te parler de moi, mais tu me connais déjà mieux que moi-même, alors je vais juste dire certaines choses que je sais sur toi. Vous avez lu chaque couverture de la bande dessinée Savage Starlight, plus d'une fois. Je sais que vous aimez faire du shopping dans la section hommes des magasins parce que vous pensez que c'est plus confortable même si vous finissez par ressembler à Adam Sandler. Vous détestez les mathématiques même si vous êtes vraiment bon dans ce domaine et vous aimez l'anglais même si vous détestez les études romanesques. Vous parlez à toute vitesse parce que vous avez tellement de choses à dire et pas assez de temps pour le dire, vous chantez comme une église avec une chorale et chaque fois que je vous vois entrer dans une pièce, je ne peux m'empêcher de sourire. J'ai hâte d'entrer à l'université, nous pouvons être colocataires et décorer la maison exactement comme nous le voulons, merci de toujours me supporter.

(Translation)

Ellie,

I'm glad that we're friends, not just because our parents forced us to be but because you are my soulmate in every single life. I would like to tell you about me, but you already know me better than I know myself so instead I will just say some things I know about you. You have read every Savage Starlight comic cover to cover, more than once. I know that you like to shop in the men's section at stores because you think it's more comfortable even if you end up looking like Adam Sandler. You hate math even though you are really good at it and you love English even though you hate novel studies. You talk at a mile a minute because you have so much to say and not enough time to say it, you sing like a church with a choir in it and every time I see you walk into a room I can't help but smile. I can't wait for college, we can be roommates and decorate the house exactly how we want it, thank you for always putting up with me.

I bent the rubric a little bit, talking about Ellie rather than myself but we were really getting graded on our French comprehension, not the subject matter of the letter. Ellie read it through, over and over, nodding her head along and pretending that it made perfect sense but I can tell by the way she squints her eyes and furrows her eyebrows that it doesn't make sense. She hand hers to me next, pride clear across her face.

Ton père est toujours en colère et je pense que c'est pour ça que nous sommes mariés. J'apprécie quand tu dors dans ma chambre et que nous nous battons avec des pistolets à eau. Mon film préféré à regarder est Star Wars, mais j'apprécie aussi Hunger Games parce que vous en êtes témoin. J'attends avec impatience une soirée cinéma ce vendredi avec vous. Tu es très cool, merci d'être mon ami.

(Translation)

Your dad is always mad and I think that is why we are married. I enjoy when you sleep at my room and we fight with guns of water. My favourite movie to watch is Star Wars but I also enjoy Hunger games because you witness it. I look forward to night movie this Friday because with you. You are very cool, thank for being my friend.

I can't help but giggle when I read it over, this causes panic in Ellie "Why are you laughing, what's wrong with it?"

"I love you but you are definitely failing."

I quickly helped her rewrite it before we turned it in, and she ended up getting a B with my revisions.

"Are you okay?" I hear Karris, she looks a little on edge, probably because I went nonverbal and froze for a solid minute or two.

"She's fine," Kayla puts her hands on either of my arms which are currently plastered to my side "I'm just gonna snag her for a minute if you don't mind." Kayla didn't wait for a response she was already dragging me away, guiding me through the sea of people and into the bathroom.

I always hated the bathroom here. The walls were black tile with white grout and there was graffiti all over the stalls and ceiling, apparently, it added to the effect, I just thought it was fugly; not to mention how dimly lit it was, there were red LED strips behind the mirrors but that was about the only light source. If you were trying to fix your eyeliner, you

"What is going on with you?" Kayla leans against the counter with the sinks, I'm right in front of her with my arms crossed.

"Nothing-

"I just saw you glitch in real life," She raises her eyebrows "You literally froze, I thought you were having a stroke."

I wipe some sweat off my brow "My head hurts," I mutter, I've already had too much to drink and we really hadn't been there that long. My thoughts didn't seem to process. Now keep in mind that I was so insanely plastered that night that I don't remember everything verbatim, I had to take others' words for what happened.

"Do you want an aspirin?" Kayla asks to which I nod and she begins digging through her purse, she pulls out a little bottle and I hear the rattling of pills. It's so dark that I can only make out the vague shape of the bottle. She places a little pill into my hand and gives me a half-drunk bottle of Fiji water in my free hand.

I don't need the water though, I dry swallow it.

She tucks the bottle back into her purse and feels something, I see her eyes go wide and that alone begins to stress me out. "What?" I ask, with no answer. She dumps her purse onto the counter behind her and turns on her phone flash to look at each item, she snatches a bottle of Tylenol and takes the cap off just for her hand to fly over her mouth. "Is something wrong?"

"I didn't give you aspirin," She's fighting back laughter but her dainty features are etched with concern.

"So?" I say, "It's just Tylenol, it won't kill me," My speech is slurred from the alcohol in my system.

"Honey, it's not Tylenol," She lowers her hand from her mouth, pressing her lips together tight. "It's MDMA."

"What?"

"Ecstasy," She corrects herself, making it easier for me to understand.

"WHAT?" My eyes go wide and my jaw drops "WHAT?" I repeat, running over to one of the nasty graffiti-covered stalls and kneeling in front of it, sticking my fingers down my throat to try and throw up to get it out of my system before it sets in. "Say something gross to make me throw up!"

"Uhh," Kayla stood behind me "Think of your dad getting off with your grandma!"

"EW!" I shout, turning to look at her with disgust on my face. "Why would you say that?"

"You told me to say something gross!"

"Not that!" I cry, slouching against the stall. I wish I had a time machine, I wouldn't just go back four hours, I would go back four years and make sure I play everything right. Maybe then I wouldn't be drunk and high in the bathroom of a dingy nightclub and I would still have Ellie.

"It's okay, honey, It's clean," Kayla walks closer to me, the heels of her boots clacking on the tile "I promise," She offers me a little rub on the shoulder "I promise I'll take good care of you tonight and make sure you're safe."

She was lying through her teeth, and just an hour later I was face down on the bar, lulling in and out of consciousness. That is the exact moment I started to think it wasn't clean like Kayla had said. My high didn't feel like what I was told rolling was like.

At first, I felt fine and then everything started to feel off. You know when you spin around a bunch super fast and your world spins under your feet? It was like that.

Before I retired to the bar, I tried to get back on the dancefloor just for my body to betray me and collapse onto the ground, people around me had stopped to watch me stagger back onto my feet and wordlessly stumble away.

After I lift my head off the spruce bartop and don't see Kayla anywhere in sight for the seventh time, I reach for my phone that I had stuffed into my bra and dial up Dina.

I hear the hum of the tone before it clicks and I hear her static voice on the other end. "Hello?" Her voice crackles.

"Dina, I'm on drugs."

"What?" I hear some shuffling in the background then what sounds like the click of a door "What drugs? are you okay?"

"I don't know," My voice drags out "Kayla took it out of her purse, said it was MMA and I'm not-" I hiccup "I'm not doing well."

"What the hell is MMA? Isn't that mixed martial arts?"

"Dina, I'm not doing martial arts, I'm doing drugs."

She sighs and I can feel her disappointment through the phone "Are you still at Monarch?"

"Yes."

"Hang on," Something shifts in the background.

"I'm kind of scared."

"Please just stay where you are-

"I love you, Dina."

"I lo- CLICK

My phone dies, and the screen turns black. I click some buttons for a moment to ensure that it's dead before I tuck it back into my bra and let myself lull back onto the bar, I rest my head on my arms and look at the displays of liquor surrounding me.

I lose track of the time that passes, in my head I am just about the win the 72nd Hunger Games, it's down to me and another tribute. There's an intense fight, I wind up underneath her and she presses a blade to my throat, I get a good look at her face and see Ellie but her face doesn't stay the same. It morphs through every version of her I had ever known. When we were seven, her grunge phase, when she let me do her makeup. This is when I give up, I know I don't have it in me to kill her so I lay limp and await my fate-

"Hey," A man sits next to me, his presence stood out effortlessly. With a strong, chiselled jawline and well-defined features, his face carried an air of that old-money elegance. His hazel eyes were softened by something (alcohol, probably), drawing others into their captivating gaze. Dark, tousled hair framed his face, adding an intriguing touch of ruggedness. He is clad in a white button-up and dress pants, I can well he's a blue-collar man just from the way he sits.

"What?" I squint my eyes at him.

"You're really pretty, I thought I would introduce myself," He smiles "I'm Emmet."

"Okay," I answer turning my attention to look ahead at the liquor display, watching the way the lights shone through them. Right now I don't care to make conversation, even if he looks like Henry Cavell, I'm fighting to stay awake.

One of his bulky hands reaches for my necklace, four of his fingers are beneath the cross, pressed against it while his thumb rubs it "You're religious."

I look down where he cradles my cross and try to jerk away but my body feels too heavy "Not anymore," I mutter. I put one of my hands over his to move it off me, he takes this as an invitation to hold my hand.

Emmet brings his head next to mine to whisper in my ear "So does that mean you're a good girl or a bad girl-

"It means she's leaving, actually," Ellie pushes him away abruptly, he looks taken aback while she doesn't give a shit. She begins to gingerly help me off the stool "Do you have everything?"

"Why are you here?" I ask "I called Abby."

"You called Dina and she's on the other side of town with her boyfriend so she sent me." Ellie slings one arm around me and I sink into her immediately.

"I hate you so much," I murmur under my breath.

"Yeah, I bet you do," She is gentle with me, she's treating me like I'm made of porcelain and I'll shatter at the slightest bit of harm.

Emmet looks crazily offended, his hands up in defence "Hey, we were having a conversation-

"Borderline harassment doesn't constitute a conversation." Ellie looks like she rolled out of bed, she is in her grey sweatpants and field hockey hoodie, her hair in the low ponytail she always wore to sleep. "Are you okay?" She asks, her tone shifting from harsh to soft.

"Mhm," I ball my fist up and rub my eye, smearing my mascara when I do so, I look down at my hand and see the remnants of my telescopic mascara and silver glitter smudged on it.

I am killing myself slowly and it is no crucifixion.

As Ellie helps me into the back seat of her car I feel like mold is growing on my bones just to way me down to the concrete where I will surely rot. "I don't write enough," I mumble "And I'm so lonely I'm searching for god everywhere but I can't find him."

Ellie gives me a little hum of acknowledgment her eyes briefly shooting to me in the rearview mirror before looking back to the road.

"Don't worry, I'm not in love with you anymore," I say nonchalantly as I'm sprawled out in her back seat, watching the light from neon signs pass us by.

"I didn't know you ever were." She says softly, hands on the steering wheel, she steals glances at me. The towering skyscrapers loomed like sentinels, their reflective glass surfaces capturing the myriad colours of neon signs that adorned the streets.

"I hate you," I add on. The mix of liquor and whatever drug Kayla gave me was doing me justice, I couldn't hold back any thought, they all fell from my lips in a jumbled mess. "I hope you die, I hope we both die." Ellie doesn't have anything to say to that. I think to myself that if I die in this moment, I would not be afraid, I would greet death like an old friend with a bright smile and warm hug. "I don't love anyone the way I love you," My head lulls against the window "And your girls, they all hate me."

"So which is it?" She asks, feeding into my tangent "Do you love me or do you hate me?"

"I-" I think about it for a brief moment "I hope if I killed myself everyone who was ever mean to me felt responsible." I look up slightly, using the car seats to help me steady myself "What are you doing?"

"I'm taking you home," She says, biting the inside of her cheek "What are you doing?"

"I'm waiting for god to call me back."

I ramble on and on, it's a miracle that she didn't stop at the side of the road and dump me onto a curb. The traffic lights painted the road in hues of red and green, and the city lights flickered like stars, helping us find our way home.

"Ellie," I say, a building up ahead catches my eyes "Ellie, pull over!" She thinks I'm going to throw up so she pulls her gray sedan over, as swiftly as possible. I stumble out of the car, my stiletto heel catches the ground in a weird way, my ankle goes sideways and I fall with it.

"Shit," Ellie rushes from the driver's seat to help me sit up straight. I use her as support to pull myself off the concrete sidewalk completely and walk towards the church up ahead like a zombie "Where are you going?"

"To clean myself from sin," I approach the church and force the heavy doors open; I knew for a fact even in my state that this church had its chapel open twenty-four hours from all of the Google pins my mom sent me when I first moved here.

The chapel's interior was bathed in a soft, ethereal moonlight that filtered through stained glass windows, casting a kaleidoscope of colours upon the polished wooden pews below.

Smooth, cool stone formed the foundation of the chapel. The high, arched ceilings reached towards the heavens, adorned with wooden beams that seemed to cradle the sacred space below. The acoustics, shaped by the architecture, lent an echo to the moonlight whisper as if the very walls absorbed and magnified the prayers of the faithful.

Rows of meticulously arranged pews lined either side of a central aisle, leading towards the altar bathed in a soft glow. Carved with intricate detail, the altar served as the focal point, adorned with candles, floral arrangements, and sacred symbols. The air was scented with the subtle fragrance of incense, a sensory companion to the spiritual journey within.

Throughout the chapel, unlit candles are spread throughout. Above the altar, a crucifix hung solemnly, a symbol of sacrifice and redemption. Rays of moonlight seemed to converge upon it, imbuing the sacred symbol with a profound sense of grace.

I try to compose myself the way you would a song or a speech and fall to my knees before the altar, clasping my hands together tightly. "My God, I am sorry for my sins with all my heart. In choosing to do wrong and failing to do good, I have sinned against you whom I should love above all things. I firmly intend, with your help, to do penance, to sin no more, and to avoid whatever leads me to sin. Our Savior Jesus Christ suffered and died for us. I wake young but feel as though my bones have resided on this earth for centuries."

I am at his altar but I don't feel him around me, where is his steady hand which used to guide me?

My hands grasp together even tighter "I am filthy, I'm disgusting," I choke out "I'm all used up and I need you to help me get better," I break my hands away from their position to wipe my eyes free of any oncoming tears before putting them right back "Fill me with your purity, I will be waterboarded by your sacred hand until holy water leaks from my pores."

Ellie hangs around by the entrance, sketched out by not only the creepy church but also my off-putting behaviour. She flinches at every shadow she sees, believing it to be a homeless person who was residing there for the night. I'm kneeling over in my sequin dress, one of the straps slips down my shoulder and my dress rides up, this is the most sinful I have ever been, synthetic sunshine coursing through my system.

"Make me love myself so I have room to love you," I feel so repulsive and dirty, soap and water won't make me feel clean so I'll try bleach and matches instead "I ask for Your mercy and grace to cleanse me from all unrighteousness. Create in me a clean heart, God, and renew a right spirit within me, return my family to my side."

I search for some sort of sign that he is watching over me.

Nothing.

No sign that he is here.

The priest at my old church in my hometown had said that without doubt there was no room for faith. It wasn't doubt, it was absolution, he is not here and so I unclasped my golden cross necklace and discarded it on the ground before the altar, never again will I be haunted by a man who has failed to ever show me mercy.

Ellie washes the grime off me with the detachable shower head. My hair is clipped up and I am hugging my knees, facing away from her in the bathtub. I feel a profound sense of shame and embarrassment all over again despite everything within me that is helping to take the edge off.

She holds the shower head but looks away to give me some false sense of dignity, I cried the whole way home from the church about being filthy but with how many times I had fallen over, she didn't want me to hit my head in the shower so we settled on this.

"I'm done," I mutter and right away Ellie turns the shower off and grabs my house robe from one of the hooks on the door, she holds it up and waits for me to stand, still averting her eyes. I stand slowly, gripping onto the rim of the tub for dear life. When I slip into it, Ellie helps me move out of the bathtub and into my bedroom.

She lifts me onto the bed and tucks me in beneath my satin duvet cover. Ellie leaves for a moment but when she returns she has a bowl in case I need to vomit, a class of water, a sleeve of saltines and a bottle of actual aspirin.

"Goodnight," She begins to shut the door but I stop her.

"Ellie?"

"Yeah?"

"Can you stay with me?" My voice breaks as I say it "Just for tonight, I don't want to be alone." Wordlessly, she shuts the door and comes around the right side of my bed; Ellie is careful keep her distance from me but unlike Christmas, we face each other. "I don't hate you." I tell her because that is all I could recall saying in the car ride.

"I know."

"Do you hate me?"

"Of course not."

I don’t think I’m a whole person anymore, I think I’m made up from a dozen different perceptions of me. This version of me, born that night was anything but pure.

I am unlovely, so please, hold me gently and do not wreck me any further.

A/N: The drinking age in Canada is nineteen! They go to school in the true north strong and free. Also one more part left to go 👀

Tag list!

@elliesaturnsoftdrink @elliesaesp @melanie-watermelon @yalaysbee @laundrybag29 @readbydayana @skylerwhitwyo @lmaoo-spiderman @joliettes @kittnii @taylorgracies @sameenatruther @mikellie @belles-hell

Sorry if I missed anyone!

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goldsbitch · 5 months

Text

Right? p2

summary: Y/N is a photographer for McLaren F1 team. Hard working, goal oriented professional who would never put her career in jeopardy for some stupid crush, right?

That is until a photoshoot gets out of hand and there is no way to go but forward.

part 1

You almost started this day with a shot from the minibar. Contemplated faking a flu. But the qualifying was too important, the sponsors seemed to love this track and your boss was very clear that he needs every photographer, even if they had a broken arm.

With a sigh, you entered the common area of the paddock, quickly heading for the media office. Sure he won't be there, he must be having some prep time now. You were not ready to face him.

Nothing happened, you tried to calm yourself down with every shiver that came around every few minutes. It was just a kiss in the heat of the moment. No one would ever know.

Oh, but if it had only been just a kiss.

You were a bit shocked when he closed the distance between you two, put a hand on your cheek and his lips on yours. This was no light romantic kiss. Your body reacted immediately, faster than your mind, which shut down completely. Butterflies in your stomach flying over the roof.

Lando pulled away few centimetres. "Is this ok?"

You nodded. Nothing else for you to do, you were hooked.

"Use your words. I want to hear it."

"Yes," you whispered and went for more.

Lando pushed you down, you were now lying on the backseat with him over you. Your bodies seemed to speak in their own language, it was all so natural. Your hands in his hair, his lip biting yours. You'd do anything to stay locked in this moment for ever. How can someone have lips so soft? You roamed around his perfect body, and he did too. His hand quickly found a way under your crop top. And it was right when he was about to touch your breast when your phone rang.

It felt like being caught by a teacher. Except you were technically not caught. Your boss was just asking if you were going into overtime or if the photoshoot was wrapped.

The ride back to the hotel was silent from both sided, reality kicking in. It was probably the longest drive you've ever experienced.

You had a strict deadline. Editing photos from last night was the last thing you wanted to do right now, but duty calls.

Your heart sank after you skimmed though them. Not because they would be bad - on the contrary. The last photos had Lando with the hottest look on his face you have ever seen on him, dynamic close ups and him literally eye fucking you via the picture. These can't get out. You were almost jealous at the thought of anyone being able to see him like that. Somehow, you managed to dig yourself even a bigger hole than before.

Professional, right?!

You didn't see Lando until few minutes before the start of qualifying. Focusing on taking photos of Oscar was your strategy to survive today, because the butterflies were unbearable yet again. Lando's nonchalant presence was something you were not able to tune out this time.

Taking few snaps of Oscar made you seem busy. You'd take only few pictures of Lando today. But almost as if he could feel you the same way you felt his presence, he managed to look into your lens right at the moment you were taking a picture. You could melt right at the spot.

Lando seemed less chatty than his usual self today.

Third in qualifying, fourth in the Grand Prix. Podium slipped through Lando's hands. But nevertheless, great weekend for McLaren. Lando beat himself up, but made sure to highlight the job of the people at the factory and the whole team.

You danced around each other all weekend, always busy, never alone and without company. It was probably for the good, right?

Days rushed over and suddenly you were sitting at the usual Tuesday PR catch up. The team was analyzing the response of the fans in their usual matter. Lando and Oscar were due to join in.

You sat rather quietly, waiting to be addressed and not trying to join in - very unusual on your part.

The whole room was watching stats and analytics, talking about the boys as if they were not human, but some sort of character. You always found that strange.

You both successfully avoided eye contact until the moment where the growing female fan base of Oscar's was discussed. This being a subtle hint that Lando is getting side tracked. Once you locked eyes, it was hard to look away. The room went silent for you, could not stop focusing on his look and the way he subtly licked his lips.

"Merch time!" This way your cue.

"Yes, let's see the latest photos," you stood up confidently to take over. Fake it til you make it, right?

As you went over the selected 15 photos and explained the idea behind them and how you believe these might work for the targeted audience, Lando seemed to be more intrigued than usually.

"Thank you, y/n. Lando, can we approve these for the launch?" asked his lead PR.

"Um." Lando seemed to be lost for words, fascinated look on his face. The room paused for a second. "Can I see them again real quick?"

What was he playing at? Your heartbeat skipped a beat.

"Yeah, sure," you skimmed through each of them again, putting them on a replay.

Lando put on a fake serious face, as if he was thinking something through. "Yeah, I think these are great," he replied, making everyone in the room relaxed again. Then he turned to you and gave you a smirk. " I think we should do more of this."

That fucker.

part 3

______________________________________________________________

@i-wish-this-was-me

#lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris fanfic #ln4 imagine #formula 1 #formula one x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #lando norris angst #mclaren

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chenfleur · 2 months

Text

everything in you

summary. time and time again, life drags you down until you lose your senses—and time and time again, jake manages to bring you back to the surface.

pairing. jake x y/n

genre. fluff, angst

disclaimers. insecurities, implied burnout

word count. 2.6k

released. 03.19.2024

author's note. feedback is appreciated! from drafts ^_^

masterlist

There’s a crack in your wall, located a small distance above your TV.

It’s tiny and shallow, barely noticeable to anyone unless they purposefully look for it—or spend enough time staring at the wall that they’re forced to notice it.

You noticed it for the first time last Tuesday, when you came home from work and the first thing you did was drop yourself down onto the couch.

This was a situation you found yourself in multiple times over the course of the past week: hands in your lap, mindlessly staring at nothing. There’s a thrum at the back of your head that you’ve been trying to ignore, just like all the other sensations that have manifested in your throat and lower back and the pit of your stomach.

More times than not, you sit here spacing out for hours; all the way from the time you get home to the time you feel your eyelids beginning to drop shut. Sometimes you have the energy to make a meal, but on the days that had no mercy for your peace of mind, you didn’t.

Maybe you do this to cope with stress. Maybe you do this because despite the rational part of your brain telling you that this is a form of self-sabotage, the exhausted part knows that silence—nothingness—would never betray you. It would never make you work overtime or make you worry about how others perceive you; it would only give you the peace you desire.

Today was one of those cruel days, to the point where you’d think it’s the shittiest you’ve had in a long time. You felt like you were at your breaking point, and you hate how every little inconvenience had made you want to burst into tears.

But even after you got home, you didn’t cry.

You seem to never cry, and you’re not sure if that’s a good thing. Instead of having a quick breakdown to rid yourself of strain like everyone else does, it piles up inside of your mind until utter blankness is born from the ashes of loud, rampant thoughts.

It’s what lands you here again tonight, despite never really wanting to be—staring at the line where the black of the flat-screen TV turns into the light cream of the apartment walls. There’s a mug of chamomile tea on the coffee table that you had brewed for yourself earlier, but it remains untouched, steam no longer wafting through the air.

A yawn racks through your body, bringing you back to reality after your mind had essentially been shut off for an hour and a half. Groaning loudly, you push yourself up off the couch to get ready for bed, trying your hardest not to think about how tomorrow, you’d probably have to repeat today all over again.

What you don’t expect is the sound of the front door’s lock suddenly clicking open.

It causes you to freeze, head turning to look towards the entrance.

As the door opens, a tall figure emerges through the threshold.

There’s a black baseball cap fit securely on his head, shielding his face from view—yet, it’s someone who you can recognize instantly. Someone who you have spent hours upon hours memorizing head-to-toe.

From the expensive bomber jacket he's layered over a grey hoodie, from his favourite pair of worn-out sneakers that he refuses to throw away. From the teddy bear charm—a gift from you—that dangles from his keyring.

You stare at him for a moment, slack-jawed.

Someone who you haven’t seen in a long time and weren’t expecting to see again for a while.

“Jake?”

Shutting the door behind him with a click, a grin breaks out onto his face.

"Hi, sweetheart. What are you doing still awake?"

Someone who you haven't seen in a long time, and weren't expecting to see again for a while—and who you never realized you'd missed so much until he was finally standing in front of you again.

Hurriedly taking off his shoes and jacket, your boyfriend pads over to you. His arms slink around your waist, pulling your body into him and hugging you loosely.

Breath hitching at the contact, your own arms come up to rest on his shoulders. You can't bring yourself to fully meet his eyes; you feel like if you get a proper look at him, a dam would break loose.

For some reason, Jake just makes you want to cry your eyes out. You have the art of concealing your emotions around others perfected to a near tee but he—

God, you don't even know why.

You try so, unbelievably hard to remain strong around him, but his presence—his touch, voice, warmth—never fails to make your facade absolutely collapse.

But even though he's reassured you time and time again that it's okay to let down your defences around him, that he wants you to, you refuse.

At least not this time; most weeks, six out of seven days, Jake would let himself into your apartment as if it was his own, and the two of you would fall asleep next to each other with your limbs a mess on the mattress. But, with the group's upcoming comeback, he's been staying at the dorm to make preparations easier. It's been weeks since you've seen each other, and with each passing second you spend with him again, you realize how much you'd truly missed him.

You're confident he isn't supposed to be here right now, but you don't know when you'd see him again. You're not going to let a precious moment be spoiled by tears.

However, the universe seems to always be working against you, because just the feeling of him loosely pressed against you is making your bottom lip quiver.

A beat of silence passes. Habitually, you lean into his touch.

You feel the tip of his nose stroke your cheek affectionately. You screw your eyes shut.

"What— what are you doing here?" you ask meekly.

"Am I not welcome here?" he teases, tilting his head.

"You know you aren't supposed to be here, Jake," you chide, though it comes out as more of a plead. "I know for a fact you have early morning practices everyday, and you probably don't get off until late at night..."

You toy with the line of his hood. "The comeback is so soon. You should be at the dorm. Resting."

"When am I ever doing something I'm supposed to be doing?"

At your lack of amusement, Jake's bottom lip juts out into a pout, his arms squeezing your waist a little tighter. "It feels like it's been centuries since I've seen you, Y/N. I couldn't take it anymore," he whines softly.

"You can't tell me you haven't missed me too. I'll literally cry if you do."

A pause. "I have," you whisper. So much that you don't even know.

Jake immediately stops pouting, his eyes crinkling as a smile blooms on his face at your words. He begins to slowly rock the both of you side-to-side, body flush against yours.

"Well, what kind of a boyfriend would I be to let you miss me?" he says playfully, looking off to the side.

Raising your head for a moment, you observe his side profile. Your eyes slowly trail along the contours of his face. Drinking in each of his carefully sculpted features. A slight smile tugs at your lips.

You lean your head against his chest, exhaling when you feel him card his fingers through the locks of your hair.

"Besides," Jake begins, his voice now softer as he redirects his gaze to you. "I'm sick of living with a bunch of disgusting guys."

You scoff. "Don't lie. You love them."

He lets out a laugh, gazing at you with shining eyes. "But you're the only one I'm in love with. There's a difference, sweetheart."

Your chest constricts. You'd been so close to completely forgetting about the turmoil brewing inside of you, but Jake's admission immediately causes it to resurface, rising like bile in your throat.

This isn't what you wanted.

You know it's coming. The burning sensation in your nose is a mockery of your efforts to remain composed.

Jake's tone carries a sincerity that makes you come undone. His words carry so much weight despite flowing out of his mouth no struggle, and they cause a stronger emotion in you than any of the cruel things that have ever been thrown your way.

Maybe this is why it was so hard to not cry around Jake—because it's so easy for him to love.

Loving comes so naturally to him, and it breathes life back into you. When you don't have any to spare for yourself, he does it in your place.

Your gates had been one strike away from being beaten down completely, and Jake had done it, with love.

You hold your breath for a few seconds as a last-ditch effort to prevent your tears, but that doesn't stop the first one from falling.

And as the saying goes, "starting is the hardest part", because as soon as the first tear slips down your cheek, more rush to follow. Your vision starts to blur.

Feeling you tense in his hold, Jake's smile falters. "Hey—"

He leans back a little bit, head ducking to try and get a look at your face. "What's wrong? Y/N?"

When you refuse to make eye contact, only tucking your chin further into your chest, his being floods with concern. His hands leave your waist to cup your face, gently forcing you to look at him.

For weeks, Jake would leave the company building late at night with only the thought of seeing you again. But in those thoughts, you'd always been smiling; maybe even laughing at a funny video or a stupid joke he'd made.

Now, the sight of your tear-stricken face only has him pursing his lips together, his heart pounding against his ribcage.

Instinctually, Jake examines your face, checking to see if you're hurt anywhere. Once he deems you okay externally, he carefully brushes the skin underneath your eyes with his thumbs.

"Baby..." he whispers sadly. "What happened?"

You only shake your head, sharp breaths leaving your lips. Jake frowns, continuing to wipe away the tears that spilt from your eyes.

When you eventually raise your gaze, you're met with the sight of Jake's own eyes beginning to water. Despite your state, there's a ghost of a smile on your lips. He looks adorable.

"Why are you crying?" you breathe out weakly, letting out a soft laugh. "Don't cry~"

"Because you're crying!" he whines. His eyebrows furrow as he stares into your eyes, trying to find out what had gotten you to this point. "You can't just cry and then expect me not to!"

Pursing your lips, you look away shyly. "Jaeyun..."

Jake's eyes soften. Gently, he cups the back of your head and guides your face into the crook of his neck, stroking your back as you continue to shed tears.

"Please, tell me what's wrong," he whispers into your hair. "It kills me to see you like this."

"I hate crying," you whisper back, tone filled with regret. "I really didn't mean to."

"No, no, baby," Jake shushes, shaking his head vehemently. "That's not what I meant. Hey, look at me," he coaxes, bringing your face up to look him in the eyes.

"What I meant was I don't like to see you hurting. You can cry, baby. I'll be here to wipe every one of your tears," he says, chuckling.

A single tear travels down the length of his face. You bring a hand up to wipe it away. Jake doesn't move, watching you with a soft gaze.

"Let go. I'd rather you cry than bury it all inside." His hand comes up to stroke your hair. "I promise you that crying doesn't make you weak or make me love you any less than when you're smiling."

So for once, you cry. Dumping every one of your emotions out onto the fabric of his hoodie. He holds you securely as you do, hands rubbing circles on your hips.

"I'm so tired," you suddenly croak out.

For a second, fear freezes the blood in Jake's veins. His voice is shaky as he asks, "O-of what? Us?"

Your face flashes with horror. You frantically shake your head, pushing yourself back to look at him.

"No!" you blurt, cupping his face. "No— oh my god, never. You're— we're—"

You exhale shakily. "We're great. We are everything to me."

One of his hands comes up to cover yours. "What's going on, baby?"

"It just feels like I'm... broken."

Jake's breath hitches, another tear slipping down his cheek to his chin. He doesn't say anything, prompting you to keep going with a tap to your side.

You delicately wipe the tear away, leaning up to press a firm kiss on his cheek before continuing.

"I feel so— so incompetent. Like I'll never be good enough at my job, or for the people at my job, or really anyone around me, for that matter."

A pause. "No matter how much time and energy I dedicate to something, nothing ever goes right. And nothing ever will go right because there's something wrong with me."

Silence hangs over the two of you, your ragged breathing and his soft sniffles intertwining in a sorrowful melody. Jake's brain is moving at a million miles a minute, grasping to think of what to do—to make you see yourself the way he sees you.

"Sweetheart," he begins, picking each of his words deliberately. "Listen to me carefully, alright?"

"You are not incompetent. In fact, you're so much more than just competent at what you do, to the people around you... everything. I wish you had my brain instead of yours. Yours is so mean to you," he murmurs with a click of his tongue.

"If you had mine, you'd see how incredible you are at what you do, to the people around you, everything. Because that's what I see, Y/N. I see everything in you."

You groan, hands reaching up to cover your face as heat flushes your cheeks. "Oh my god..."

Laughing, Jake tries to pry at your hands. When he succeeds, he looks deep into your eyes, gaze never wavering. You think you'd have crumbled to the floor by now if he wasn't here to hold you up.

"Did you mean it?" he whispers, breath fanning against your skin.

"Hm?"

"When you said that nothing you dedicate your effort to ever goes right."

You grimace. "That's what it feels like..."

"Even us?"

Oh. "Jaeyun—"

"Shhh, I was kidding. I know that's not what you meant," Jake coos, the groan that leaves you making him smile. He gently brushes a strand of hair out of your face before tilting his head and softly capturing your lips in his. Your eyes flutter shut, melting into his hold.

"You're strong, okay?" He whispers against your lips when you break away. "You're stronger than anyone I know."

Jake doesn't make any move to let you go. He wants his reassurances to travel through every part of your body, until you become so familiar with them that they'd never be a subject of your questioning.

"You aren't broken. I won't let you be."

The feeling of his skin against yours grounds you. In the foyer of your quiet apartment at one in the morning, it makes you feel alive.

#enhypen #enhypen x reader #enhypen imagines #enhypen scenarios #enhypen fluff #enhypen oneshots #enhypen drabbles #enhypen jake #jake sim #sim jaeyun #jake x reader #jake fluff #jake imagines #jake scenarios

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leclercss · 3 months

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Paris, je t'aime (Charles Leclerc), Part 2

Masterlist

plot: it's almost three years since your tumultuous relationships with Lewis and Charles came crashing down. but you find your self in a new city with new beginnings and new ways to fuck up your love life. that's no thanks to a cheeky frenchman who's set you up on a double date with someone oh so familiar.

pairings: charles leclerc x fem!reader

warnings: (+18) mentions of smut, cheating, violence and some swearing

authors note: part deux, enjoy. sorry this took so much longer than anticipated to write. also, excuse the darker tone to this chapter, it'll get lighter from here xx

word count: 5.2k

taglist: @toppersjeep @janeholt3, @princess-siba, @nichmeddar, @tremendousandsonorouswords, @cmleitora, @victoriaholland, @amalialeclerc, @queensofshinigamis, @tempo-rary-fix, @starmanv, @happylittlereader, @trouble-sistar, @lightdragonrayne, @persephonemv1, @dreamingofautopia

If you couldn't read Charles' expression before, you most certainly couldn't now. For the first time this evening, it was Charles who was stumbling over his words.

"Wha... Wait... what?" was all he could muster up.

There weren't many times when you had been with Charles where he struggled to find his words. Even if he was angry, like the last time you saw him all those years ago, he still managed to say something. But tonight, he couldn't. He was speechless.

To relieve him from his pain, you repeated what you had said a few moments before. You too were struggling to string a few words together.

"Charles, I never went to New York".

Even by repeating yourself, Charles still couldn't find the words and it looks like the wheels inside of his head are trying to turn and make some sort of sense but everything is just breaking down and failing to work cohesively. And so, rather than having to respond, he looks out of the window of the taxi, taking in the Parisian sunset. His hand is no longer on your thigh but is now clawing at his facial hair.

The rest of the taxi ride is quiet, aside from the taxi driver's radio playing lowly in the background. But at one point you think you hear Charles whisper to himself, "Je ne comprends pas".

I don't understand.

The sound of Charles' keys rattling breaks the silence between you and Charles as he leads you upstairs to his apartment. He still hasn't said anything since the taxi, aside from thanking the driver. You haven't made much of an effort yourself to fill the silence because in all honesty, you're not really sure what to say or what Charles' reaction would be to whatever you did have to say. He was clearly stunned at your revelation that you in fact never went to New York and you were stunned yourself - by his question, his reaction, hell, this entire date. None of this made sense.

In the space of an hour, you went from being clueless about your blind date, to finding out that out of the +3 billion men in the world you just happened to be set up with your ex and to now, with Charles asking you to come to his apartment. Your mind was working overtime to catch up. Those two Aperol Spritz' were clearly not enough to numb whatever your brain was trying to process right now. You clearly needed something stronger.

You tried not to laugh but you couldn't help think about the fact that as much as Pierre poked fun at you for your messy love life, even this situation that you now found yourself in would even be too much for him to process.

The two of you quietly make your way into Charles’ apartment before staggering off. He muttered something about getting you a drink and so you take the opportunity to take in his apartment. Your heels are the only thing that is making a sound as you slowly walk around his living room. It’s a lot more sophisticated than his apartment in London that he shared with Joris and Riccardo. Gone are the Ferrari prints and in their place are pictures of modern art, strategically framed across the walls. It feels too classy to be a bachelor pad, if that was what Charles used it as. Your mind briefly lingers back to Pierre's comment about Charles needing to fuck a lot of girls to get over you.

With Charles still in the kitchen, you slowly make your way over to the large bay window and admire the Parisian streets outside as the sun slowly begins to set across the city. You let out a little sigh. It feels like no matter where you call home these days, chaos seems to follow you. Well, everywhere apart from Singapore, life felt so easy there. No expectation, the only pressure being your job. Was it too late to go back?

Your attention is finally pulled back to reality as Charles hands you a glass of white wine.

“Thank you,” you say, taking the glass from his hand. You can’t miss that his own glass of wine is practically shorty. Charles’ notices this and dryly chuckles.

“I drank it on the way, let me get some more”.

He’s flustered, his cheeks turning slightly pink out of embarrassment. He doesn’t make eye contact with you at all before he turns away and heads back to the kitchen. You can’t help but find it a little funny how you’re now the composed one, especially in comparison to Charles’ entrance during your date.

As Charles re-enters the living room, you take a seat on the edge of his sofa, you’re not too comfortable yet for you to treat it like a welcomed or returning guest. Charles follows suit, taking a seat on the arm chair across from you.

It’s still quiet between you both, neither of you know how to start this conversation. Whatever game plan Charles had previously has now gone straight out of the window while you never had an opportunity to even create a game plan, you were just thrown into the deep end without any arm bands.

You watch as Charles’ slowly runs his index finger along the rim of his wine glass while he stares at his own movements. Deciding to break the silence, because any conversation is better than this, you begin with some small talk to ease yourself into the conversation.

“Your apartment looks great,” you say politely as you look around the room once more.

“Thanks,” Charles mutters, his eyes still fixated on his wine glass.

“Did you decorate it yourself?”

Charles shakes his head.

You let out a little laugh. “Interior design was never your strong suit,” you joke, hoping to lighten the mood but it doesn’t anything but.

“A friend did it,” his words almost come out like a grunt.

Silence falls onto the room once more.

Something chaotic begins to brew inside of you. You know you’ve got nothing to lose, and out a stupid sense of curiosity, you carelessly throw out your next question, “Was it a girl that did it for you?”

Charles instantly tenses up at your question and you know you're playing with fire. You notice his jaw twitch in irritation. His shoulders now hunching forward and his hand is how clenched around his wine glass. And by the tension in his fingers, you’re amazed that it hasn’t cracked from the pressure.

He’s debating whether to say something or not. And he does, but not before taking a large gulp of his wine.

“Why don’t we just skip the small talk and get straight to fucking shall we?”

And as he says it, he’s finally looking into your eyes. The pendulum swings once more and it's your turn to be nervous again.

“Excuse me?”

He lets out a little chuckle but from the expression in his eyes he’s not joking around.

“Listen, [Y/N], I didn’t invite you back to my apartment so we could exchange interior design tips. So, let’s just skip to what we’re good at which is sex,” he continues with a condescending tone. “We can either do it on my sofa if you like, or by the big window so you can take in the Parisian skyline as I fuck you from behind. But my bed also works, your choice”.

You can’t help but scoff, “And that works for all the other girls you’ve taken here, right?”

You want to slap the smirk that Charles’ is giving you right off his face.

“No,” he responds sarcastically. “I let them finish their glass of wine, or two, maybe even play them a song on my piano before I ask them to take their clothes off”.

Oh, so I'm not even worthy of even getting through my wine? you think to yourself.

It's your turn to laugh but you know it’s hiding what you really feel. You’re confused but most importantly, you’re disappointed in the way that Charles is speaking to you. He had never spoken to you like this before.

“And what makes you think I’d want to fuck you anyway?” you retort, hoping that you sound assure in what you're saying, but you're not, your voice trembles. And Charles doesn't miss it.

And my God, he looks so arrogant as he looks you up and down. He’s so obvious with his gaze as his eyes become fixated on your boobs before making their way down to your thighs, which are now more exposed than before thanks to your dress riding up from sitting on the sofa.

“You’re wearing that dress aren’t you?” the smugness practically oozes from his tongue.

You can’t help but roll your eyes. “Well, if I’d of known that you were going to be my date then I definitely wouldn’t have wasted this dress on you”.

Charles throws his head back as his smile grows even bigger.

“It's such a shame that you’ve lost your sense of humour since I last saw you, amour”.

You scoff once more. His use of amour is no longer a term of endearment but a way to mock you. But you can't let him know that he's winning, so you somewhat fight back, "At least I’ve managed to grow up in the last three years. Unlike some”.

“And yet you’re still here”.

Your eyes meet his and you gulp. His piercing green eyes are glistening as he enjoys seeing you squirm. He’s been waiting for so long to see you again and he’s not going to let you forget how you made him feel. And he doesn’t care that he’s coming across as a dick when he’s doing so. You broke his heart, and he’s willing to be petty about it.

Despite your disgust in how he’s speaking to you since you arrived to his apartment, you know he’s right. Why are you still here? What sort of resolution are you going to get from this? And you remember how naive you were earlier to think that Charles had moved on when he was being nice to you. Oh how wrong you were.

“Well, now that we’ve established that you’re staying-“

“Who said I was staying?” you growl.

“Well, as I said before, you’re wearing that dress and I think it’s pretty obvious that you planned on getting fucked tonight, so I’m happy to cut to get to it,” Charles continues nonchalantly, “Pierre, as well intentioned as he is, did drop the bomb that you’ve been having a bit of a dry patch when it comes to your love life so I can’t blame you for getting your hopes up”.

You’re growing more irritated by his sarcasm and attitude by the second. Your jaw can’t help but twitch as he drops the truth bomb on your pathetic love life. And so you retaliate, unknowingly falling right into his trap.

“And Pierre was ever-so-kind to let me know that you’ve been so miserable and bitter that you’ve had to fuck anyone with a pulse to get over me”.

You see a flash of anger fall onto Charles’ face but it’s gone as quick as it came. You wouldn't be sure it even happened if he didn't respond the way he does next.

“Better than whatever pathetic shit it is you’ve been doing,” Charles responds. "Random hook ups, pathetic tinder conversations. Are you scared of commitment or something?"

You say nothing but you're breathing heavily. You're the one who is now gripping onto their wine glass for dear life, holding onto whatever composure you have left.

"There was one thing that Pierre didn't tell me though. How did you and Lewis end things, amour?"

What a little...

Who the fuck does he think he is?

This conversation has taken a dark turn and it’s enough for you to want to get out of here. Something you should have done before. You slam your wine glass onto the coffee table, before standing up to make your way towards the front door.

You hear Charles get out of his seat, closely following behind before he grabs onto your arm.

“What’s wrong, amour?” his voice is sickeningly sweet as he taunts you once more, pulling you back towards him.

“I’m not going to sit here and let you talk to me like this,” you spit. But your voice cracks as you can feel ears form in your eyes. This whole evening has been humiliating and now Charles is hanging your desperate love life in front of you, like it's a toy that can be poked and prodded at for entertainment.

And if you thought that by leaving that Charles would retreat, you were completely wrong.

“Sorry, baby, thought you were into men who treated you like shit”.

Slap!

You're not sure who's more surprised by the slap you've just given Charles, you've both been stunned into silence. The hand that he had on your arm immediately removes itself from you, now finding itself pressed against Charles' cheek. He winces at his own touch, the flesh that was met with your slap is beginning to sizzle.

One of your tears spills over as you make eye contact with Charles, your expressions matching one another. Horror. It takes you a few moments to realise what you've done. Unwilling and unable to accept the consequences of your actions, you decide to bolt for the exit. But as soon as you open the front door, it's been slammed shut. Panicking, you turn around to see that Charles has followed you, his hand is above your head holding the door closed.

You're not sure why you feel scared, but you press your back against the door. You're pressing into it so hard that you hope that it creates some sort of portal to take you somewhere far, far away from here. Anywhere but here.

But your dreams are cut short because Charles is standing in front of you, still holding the door closed while the other hand caresses his cheek, marked with your handprint.

"No, you don't get to just run away from me again," he barks as he hovers over you.

"What?" you ask in confusion.

"You've done it to me once before and I won't let you do it again," he replies. His breathing his heavy, chest rising and falling dramatically as he looks into your eyes. "You've left me once before without an explanation. You're not doing that to me this time".

His tone is much more gentle this time. The last few moments have made him feel vulnerable. His find flashes back to the last time he saw you and how he watched you walk out of his front door, never to be seen again until three years later. Despite his bitterness towards your break up, he wasn't going to make that mistake again. No, it was time for some answers. Ones he had been waiting for for three long years.

He removes the hand that's above your head on the door and places it back down by his side. "Can you just stay, please? I think you owe me that much".

You nod.

"Okay," your voice barely a whisper. "I'll stay but at least let me get a cold towel for your face".

It's Charles turn to nod.

He makes his way back to the sofa while he waits for you to return with a cold, damp cloth. When you return, his eyes never leave you as he watches you sit down beside him. He watches you as you gently places the damp cloth against his cheek. He hisses out your touch.

"I'm sorry," you whisper as you begin to dab his face gently, this time your touch hurts less.

Apart from your very brief apology, the two of you say nothing for a while. Charles' eyes are still on you as you take care of him. He gulps as you take your other hand and brush away a strand of hair that's fallen onto his cheek. His mind goes rushing back to all of the times that you touched him before. But now it's in such different circumstances and you both feel like strangers to one another now. He wants to touch you again, to see if it still feels the same. If your skin is still as soft as before. It always used to be so warm and silky, it felt like satin beneath his touch. But he's too scared to try, after all you did just slap him a not so long ago, because of shitty words that he said to you.

"Charles," you say before pausing. You look at him briefly as he nods, waiting for you to carry on. He's looking at you with such puppy dog eyes that you can't help but feel guilty as you see that he still has some redness on his cheek. But you carry on. "I'm sorry for hitting you. I... I shouldn't have done that".

Charles chuckles a little, "It's okay, amour".

"No, no, it's not okay. I shouldn't hit anyone," you protest, this time holding the cloth against his cheek.

Charles smiles at you, "Honestly, it's okay. I deserve it, I was being nasty."

You let out a little sigh.

"I really am sorry," you say as you look into his eyes.

"I know, amour".

It's all the two of you say for a few more minutes before you finally remove the cloth from Charles' cheek. The redness has calmed down, but he still feels a sting from your touch.

As you place the cloth on the table, you reach for your glass of wine, realising that it's been untouched. You take a sip before handing the glass to Charles. He smiles before taking it from your hand and taking a sip himself.

As your wait to find something to say, you begin to pull at the hem of your short dress. How do you carry on the conversation from here? The last time you tried to speak it went from being petty to nasty and to, in your case, being violent. But Charles' demeanor is different this time, he seems a lot calmer and he doesn't want to make your life a living hell any more. He watches you fiddling with the hem of your dress and pulling at a loose string. He places his hand on top of yours to stop you from pulling at the material any more.

"Hey, don't do that. Your dress is beautiful, I wouldn't want you to ruin it," his tone is so gentle. So much so that you tears begin to form in your eyes again. You can't even look at Charles as your eyes remain fixated on your lap. You hadn't realised your tears had spilled over until landed on the bottom of your dress, leaving the smallest of damp spots.

"Hey, hey, please don't cry," Charles whispers as he wipes your tear with his thumb. But by him telling you not to cry doesn't mean that you stop. If anything, feeling his hand on your face only makes it worse. "Please don't cry, [Y/N]".

Charles cups your face in his hands as he lifts it up so you're looking at him. "Charles," you begin but your breath catches in your throat. The evening is beginning to overwhelm you and you can't seem to be digesting anything that's happening in a reasonable way.

"Tell me, amour," Charles says as he wipes your tears once more.

Amour.

Fuck, even the way he's saying it now is so confusing. It's so gentle and so kind and you don't deserve any of this.

"Did you mean it earlier? When you said you only invited me back to have sex?"

Charles sighs as he shakes his head.

"No! No, I was being an asshole, okay," he tells you. "I didn't mean it."

You nod but you're not sure if you believe him. You wouldn't blame him if he fucked you and then left you because in Charles' eyes, that's what you did to him three years ago.

"Hey, hey, look at me," his voice is more commanding this time that you can't help but look at him. He hesitates for a moment, before he leans in to kiss your forehead. "I didn't mean it, amour. I was just angry, that's all".

You nod but you still feel overwhelmed with his touch and so you lean back on the sofa to give yourself a little bit of a break. Charles follows suit.

Silence falls on the room once more but this time, the two of you taking turns drinking the wine from your glass, hoping that the two of you find the courage to address the elephant in the room.

This time, it's Charles who breaks the silence.

"You... you said in the taxi that you never went to New York," he begins. The volume in his voice is much lower this time.

You nod slowly.

"What happened? Why did you change your mind?"

He nervously awaits your answer and he doesn't miss the little sigh that you let out.

"Charles, I... I was never going to New York. It was never the plan. Lewis kept asking but I always said no," you tell him.

Charles' scrunches his forehead at your confession.

"But you told me-"

"No, that day when I came to see you. I planned on telling you that everything was over between Lewis and I but I don't know what happened. I just couldn't get the words out, after everything that happened it should have been easy but it wasn't. Because I'd never been able to say out loud that my marriage was over. And when I told you that Lewis asked me to join him in New York, I didn't tell you because that's what was happening. I told you because I was scared and confused. You talked about moving in together and I panicked. For the first time in seven years he wasn't going to be in my life and I just didn't have time to process it," you tell him, "And so when you asked me if I was going, I just froze. I... I don't why I did. But by the time I got over my panic you thought that I had basically confirmed that I was going with Lewis but I never was. I don't blame you for reacting the way you did, hell, I would have had the same thoughts. But he was never an option any more, Charles, it was always you".

Charles stays silent as he lets all of your words sync in. He had been so wrong this whole time and he spent so many days and months hating you. Was he so wiling to believe that you were leaving him to stay with Lewis because he couldn't believe that it would finally be true? He'd always heard that the spouse never leaves their martial partner when it comes to having an affair. But you and Charles never had an affair. You had a relationship, and one that Lewis knew all about. So why had he gotten it all so wrong?

"When you told me to leave, I... I took the cowards way out. I don't blame you for not believing me. We were both tired and I gave up. I'm sorry that I gave up, Charles," you say. It's your turn to wipe the tear from Charles' cheeks.

"No, I pushed you away," he says quietly.

You shake your head. "No, you didn't. You did nothing wrong," you tell him.

The two of you take a few minutes to process your confession to Charles. The tears have now dried up for the both of you but the weight of the conversation rests heavy on your hearts.

"If you didn't go to New York, where did you go?" Charles asks.

You let out a little sigh. "I went for a job opportunity in Singapore. And I took it, so I moved about three months after things ended between us".

Charle lets out a light-hearted chuckle. "Singapore, that must have been nice," he says, "How did you manage in the heat?"

"I didn't," you laugh, "I basically lived a nocturnal lifestyle. But it was nice, I enjoyed my time there. I think I grew up a lot while I was there".

You pause for a moment, your smile falls a little as you carry on. "I do think about what would have happened if I'd stayed in London though..." Your sentence trails off as you begin to think about the what ifs.

"Well you know, London. Always busy and always expensive," Charles jokes. You smile at him softly.

"Kind of like Paris, right?" you say and he nods in response.

He takes a moment before asking his next question, "Do you regret going?"

Uncertainty takes over momentarily before you reply, "I don't know. I wish I kind of did things differently".

"Me too," Charles mutters.

Your eyes meet each others and this time it feels different. It feels like you're both longing for one another. You're not sure who initiated the first move as you both lean in for a gentle kiss which soon escalates as Charles pulls you onto his lap while you reach out to cup his face. The kiss deepens quickly as the two of your run your hands over any body part you can find on the other.

Charles' hands going from your hair on the back of your head to your waist. At some point, they end up on your ass which is now exposed due to the movements you've been making on his lap. Your hands too find themselves in his hair before making their way over his shoulders and down his clothed chest but you don't miss the tight muscles that sits below the thin material.

You hum as Charles' lips make their way to below your ear before making their way down your neck and finally to your chest.

"I wasn't joking when I mentioned this dress earlier," he says as he stares up at you, his eyes are full of hunger, "it was meant to taken off".

You can't help but squeal as he dramatically pulls your straps down to reveal your chest and it doesn't take long for him to wrap his mouth around one of your nipples. You moan as he begins to suck on the sensitive skin.

"Fuck," you let out as your hands grip onto his shoulders.

Tonight has been such a mind fuck that you feel dizzy at his touch. How the hell have you ended up in this situation where you've gone from slapping Charles for being an asshole to having him sucking on your tits. Maybe he was right and that you did like men that treated you like shit.

But that was baggage that you could unpack another day as you're suddenly brought back to your senses when you feel a flash of cold air on your vagina. You look down and see that Charles has pulled your panties to the side.

He looks up at you menacingly as his right hand makes its way down your body while the other holds your him in place. You can't help but yelp as his fingertips brush against your clit.

"Charles," you sigh in relief as he presses more pressure onto your sensitive bud.

"I'd be lying if I said I hadn't imagined this image over the last three years," Charles teases as he slides his fingers between your folds. "Mmmm," is all you can say.

"I still have those photos you know and some of the videos that we took," he continues as he left hand makes it's way back up to your breast, missing the feeling of full flesh beneath his fingers.

"Charles," you whisper once more as you grip onto his hair.

"All you have to do is tell me how you want," he says and you're falling into his touch when he suddenly pushes two of his fingers inside of you.

"Shit!"

Charles takes your profanity as a sign to continue but this only sends you into overdrive. No, it's that dizzy feeling again and you suddenly feel light-headed. His fingers are moving in and out of you but all you want to do is push yourself off his chest and you do.

"Stop," you cry as you lift yourself of Charles' body.

Charles is stunned at your sudden change and becomes flustered, trying to understand why you're no longer wanting him to touch you.

"Amour, what's wrong?"

You're panting as you recover from the sensation of Charles while you're also trying to gather your thoughts at the same time.

"I don't think this is a good idea," you eventually say. You don't miss the look of disappointment on Charles' face. "It's not that I don't want to, I just think that... that we've gone through so much tonight. We haven't really processed anything and I don't want us to regret this".

Charles nods. He'd do anything to have you right now but deep down he knows you're right. The events of tonight have been chaotic, petty and at times toxic. This was the first time the two of you had addressed what happened and even then it was only a short conversation. He's only just gotten you back into his life and despite what his mouth was running with earlier, Charles didn't want to lose you again.

"You're right, I'm sorry," he says softly.

"Please don't be sorry. We both wanted it but it's not the best thing right now," you say. You want to break the tension in the air by cracking a joke, "If you want, we can both tell Pierre that we fucked to mess with his head".

Your joke works as Charles releases some tension by laughing before letting out a "Fucking Pierre".

At some point, you end up resting your head against Charles' chest as the two of you enjoy the silence for the first time this evening and for the final time, Charles interrupts a quiet moment between you two.

"Can you stay tonight? I... Nothing has to happen, I'd just like you to stay," he says quietly. You look up at him and nod.

The two of you eventually make your way to the bedroom and slowly undress each other as you get ready for bed, with Charles lending you one of his football jerseys.

And while he sleeps ever so soundly, his chest gently rising and falling as he lets out slow breaths, you find yourself not being able to sleep at all.

As the sun begins to rise on an early summer's morning in Paris, you find a pen and paper in Charles' kitchen before leaving him a note on his pillow:

' I promise I'm not running away this time, I just think that we both deserve the chance for a clear head in the morning.

I'm so grateful that I got the chance to see you again.

Amour xxx '

#charles leclerc #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc x you #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 x you

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hellfirenacht · 12 days

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Wing Man Part 9

Fic Summary: Steve 'the Hair' Harrington is your best friend, and is constantly striking out. Sick of this, you two make a deal; you'll wing man for each other. Hooking Steve up with dates is easy, but he finds himself struggling to find you a date. At least, until Dustin starts talking about his new cool friend Eddie.

Chapter Summary: You and Eddie go on your first date, but the past always lingers. 6.5 words

(1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8)

Note: Y'all get to be a little horny in this one. As a treat <3 Also the poll results said you don't mind small details of what you all are wearing, and that you wanted to dress moderately slutty so I tried to keep that in mind. Enjoy!

Eddie kept his promise. For the next few days the two of you found yourself talking on the phone a lot between work shifts, band practice, and school. Late night talks became the norm, the two of you spending your evenings opening up to each other bit by bit.

You told him about Family Video and gave him the scoop of which of his peers were renting from the back rooms, and he told you about his own shifts at the Hideout and about the weird things his drunk usuals would say. Bev had been giving him shifts again, which was at least a small steady income compared to his usual dealings.

The next Tuesday you had gone to the Hideout with Eddie, this time with him picking you up and dropping you off after. It wasn’t a date, not exactly. It was just two people who had an interest in each other hanging out with other people. Eddie had said the main reason it wasn’t a date was because he was technically working, and he didn’t want your first official date to have his band mates tagging along. Of course, that didn’t stop them from giving him knowing looks and giving him shit whenever your back was turned. Eddie would carefully keep tabs on how often they would do it, and would make them pay later during their campaign.

That was fine with you, you were still more than happy to just spend time with Eddie and learn more about him. Watching him play guitar was mesmerizing and it was nice to be able to gawk at him in peace during his set without Steve telling you to close your mouth and stop drooling.

After the set and dropping everyone else at home, the two of you had spent another two hours in his van just talking. Now that everything was out in the open, that awkwardness that had been between the two of you had faded into nothing. You found that talking to Eddie was as easy as talking to Steve, and you loved hearing about all of his stories from Hellfire and hearing him talk about his music.

The only reason the two of you didn’t stay up until morning parked in front of your apartment building was because Eddie was reminded by you that he was still in school and needed to get some sleep for class the next day. When you kissed his cheek again before sliding out of his van he made a mental note to beg Bev to go on with Corroded Coffin on a Friday or Saturday for once.

Halloween was on a Thursday this year, and you had made it very clear to Keith that you were not going to be working that night, or the next day. You had saved up all your bartering chips of overtime and days where you came in when anyone else couldn’t. You had put in your time off request three months in advance.

Work could have you any other day of the week, but Halloween was yours and yours alone. You’d work Christmas, Thanksgiving, Easter, Arbor Day, and Groundhog Day. You’d forgo Easter Sunday, New Years Eve and Day, and you wouldn’t bat an eye at Valentines day. But Halloween? That was yours and yours alone.

It was the one day out of the year that you felt like you could be you. Even after the monster that is Hawkins High tried to strip you of being yourself, you pushed through and came out the other side of graduation with a new determination to never water yourself down again. You worked your ass off to save for your own run down apartment, to find clothing that you loved and not just what your peers told you to wear to blend in.

If you wanted to show up to a shift on Halloween dressed as Han Solo with a Teddy Bear, you damn well could and no one could stop you. Not even Keith.

But lucky for you, when the schedule for the week was posted that Monday, your name was thankfully cleared for Thursday and Friday. Keith could handle himself for those two morning shifts, and Robin and Steve could handle the evenings. It’s not like Family Video was really busy or open late on Thursday nights and you trusted Steve and Robin to handle the Friday rush.

You woke up that Thursday feeling like it was your own personal Christmas. You took your time to wake up, have breakfast and get ready for the day. You almost called Eddie before you remembered that it was still a weekday and he would be in school. Besides, it would be weird to call him before your first date, right?

Steve had given you a crash course on first dates over your shared shifts. His advice was a mixed bag to say the least. Every time he gave you insight into the male mind on how to act or dress or talk on a first date he would then backtrack when he remembered who he was talking to and who this first date was with.

“Listen, you got this far by being a weirdo.” Steve had finally said after the conversation had basically gone nowhere. “I guess keep talking about eating bats and fake being drunk and you’ll get the guy.”

“You know, when you put it like that I’m starting to see why maybe this whole casual dating thing hasn’t worked for me in the past.” you had replied.

Most of your Halloween was spent by yourself, but that wasn’t a bad thing. You started off with a nice slow morning of carving your annual jack o'lantern, having learned the hard way to not put it out early, lest it rot or be smashed by asshole kids in the neighborhood. The afternoon was spent around town, just taking in the crisp fall air and the decorations set up by all of the shops..

The hypocrisy in this town was stunning sometimes. Every other day of the year you had been followed by whispers of the Satanic Panic and any idea that something other than the norm might be related to something more nefarious was ostracized. Sometimes you could understand where the fear was coming from, after all the Byers kid had disappeared, presumed dead, and then had come back all within a week a few years ago. Barbara Holland had been killed by chemicals in the Hawkins Lab. There was even the fire at the mall that had killed the police chief, as well as the local lifeguard. It seemed like every single year some new tragedy would strike the small town.

You couldn’t wait to run away to somewhere else.

But for now, the day was yours and the night was Eddie’s. Your stomach flipped every time you thought about meeting up with him tonight. You had built up this production a lot over the past few days. You had seen the shadow cast about once a month since you were old enough to go at 18, give or take a few times where you had other plans.

Each time you had gone, you had checked the board hoping to see the announcement that they would be opening auditions to be part of the cast or crew. But the show was tight knit, and that rarely happened.

But at least that meant that tonight you could share something with Eddie other than your origami. Not that you were embarrassed by your hobby, but compared to running a D&D campaign and being in a band, it didn’t feel like much.

You never seemed to run out of things to talk about with Eddie though, during your late night talks on the phone. When you weren’t captivated by his tales of running Hellfire or the inspiration for his music, you two would talk about everything else. Music, movies, the occasional small town gossip, anything you two could think of. You had already compiled a small list of movies that only one of you had seen, because all new relationships always start with “What do you mean you haven’t seen this movie?!”

That’s how you and Steve and Robin had bonded over those first few months. It probably wouldn’t be that much different with Eddie.

After a long stroll through the town, a quick stop in to your favorite coffee shop for a treat, and a bout of window shopping in the Halloween aisles of local stores, you made your way home. You considered dropping by the high school to see Eddie as the afternoon came to a close, but you didn’t want to seem desperate. You’d see him soon enough anyway.

As the evening went on, you popped in a few thematically appropriate movies that you watched between doing your hair and make up and passing out candy to kids who came up to your door. You may or may not have saved some of the best candy for yourself. And Eddie. He liked Snickers right? You hoped he did.

You were ready a good two hours before you needed to meet him at the theater at midnight. You were starting to wish that you had invited him over to pre-game before the movie, but unfortunately you had listened to some of Steve’s advice and were left sitting around in your fishnets and dark lipstick for your first date with Eddie. The only thing you weren’t wearing yet were your tall boots which you only broke out for this showing because they were too uncomfortable to wear anywhere else.

Steve had relented that you were going to dress weird for the date, considering the day and the nature of what you and Eddie were doing, but he said it’d be too weird to get ready with him.

You decided that next time would be different. Next year, you’d have Eddie over all day, and the two of you would spend the day carving pumpkins and listening to music and arguing over what movie to watch as you passed out candy. Eddie would probably be stingy with the candy so that there would be leftovers for the two of you at the end of the night, and you’d be giving bars out by the handfuls. Maybe the two of you would cough up the dough for some full sized candy bars for kids with really fun costumes and-

What were you doing? You weren’t even officially dating yet, the first date hadn’t even happened! You were getting ahead of yourself, and thinking way too far ahead. You didn’t need to be thinking these domestic thoughts about a guy you barely knew.

Get your shit together. You scolded yourself. Let’s try and go on one date first, then maybe have dirty thoughts about him and then I can have mushy domestic thoughts about him if things go well.

You were really hoping things went well.

After around 10 pm the trick-or-treaters tapered off and you dumped the remaining candy in your bag for the movie. Your hand itched for the phone around 10:30, your brain telling you that it was getting late and that you should call Eddie now if you wanted to talk to him before bed, and you reminded yourself that you’ll see him in an hour.

The hour could not go any slower.

“Steve, I’m freaking out.” you said into the phone the second he picked up. “What the fuck am I doing?!”

“You’re going on a date with Eddie Munson to a midnight showing of a movie that has no plot.” he yawned.

You resisted the urge to hang up on him and instead paced around your living room, holding onto the phone.

“Steve, I’m serious!”

“So am I, the more you talk about the movie the less sense it makes.”

You lightly smacked your head against the wall. “How do you do this every week with different girls?! I’m going on one date and I feel too damn antsy.”

The chord to your phone stretched to its limit as you walked towards your bookshelf and pulled out your senior year yearbook, flipping through it.

“Dating is like any other skill, you have to practice and actually do it to be any good.” Steve sighed into the phone.

“I hate that.” you said, looking through the Ms. Maddison... Morrison.... Munson.

No photo available, what the actual fuck? You flipped through the book, to the club section but there was no trace or whisper of the Hellfire Club at all in the 1984 Hawkins High yearbook.

“This was your idea.” Steve reminded you as you pushed the book away and reached for 1983’s yearbook.

“And? I have a lot of ideas and not all of them are good.” You flipped through the book, trying to find Eddie’s name and photo. Why hadn’t you thought of this before?

“So... are you chickening out, again?” You could hear the mild annoyance in his voice.

“No! I’m just... I’m just nervous, alright? I haven’t been on a date since Junior year. Wait no, there was that horrible study date in Senior year. It’s been a while okay?” you groaned.

You scanned the Ms again, stopping for a split second to snicker at Chris Morrison’s horrible yearbook photo. His hair was an unfortunate overgrown sandy haircut that looked like a bad mix of a mullet and a bowl cut, with a fringe that fell in his gray eyes. His face was stoic and he looked like he wanted to kill whoever was in charge of the camera.

A few photos later was Eddie Munson’s Junior year photo. Somehow seeing his face in your yearbook made your shoulders relax a little bit. You at least could confirm that you had indeed gone to school with him. His face was softer looking, and his hair fell just below his jawline.You saw a peak of his Hellfire shirt, the same one in Chris’s photo. He was smiling, well as best as a teenage boy who doesn’t want to get his photo taken would smile. It was endearing, and something in the back of your mind started nagging at you that this Eddie looked more familiar.

“Hello? Anyone home?”

You snapped back to reality, remembering that you were on the phone with Steve. “Yeah, sorry I got distracted. What was that?”

“I said you shouldn’t be nervous.” Steve repeated. “You like him. He likes you. It’s not that complicated. He wouldn’t have shown up that night if he didn’t have an interest in you.”

“Oh, but what if it is that complicated, Stevie?” You sighed dramatically. “After all, the three of us seem to be horribly unlucky in love.”

“You’re telling me.” Steve admitted. “Three dozen dates later and I’m still looking for that spark.”

Steve had been head over heels for Nancy Wheeler, and had his heart crushed. You hadn’t had any luck in love ever, with only a few failed dates under your belt from high school, and two one-night stands. Robin... you couldn’t get a read on her. She seemed to have a crush on someone, and Steve definitely knew who it was but they weren’t telling you. It hurt a little, but you knew that the two had a bond that you wouldn’t be able to touch. If Robin wanted to tell you, she would.

Okay, you did ask and make sure that the person she was crushing on wasn’t Eddie. The last thing you wanted was to date someone who your friend had feelings for. Thankfully, Robin had quickly cleared up that she didn’t even know Eddie and therefore can confidently say that she had absolutely no feelings for the guy, romantic or otherwise.

Steve spent the next half hour calming you down and talking to you as you flipped through your high school yearbooks, picking out Eddie’s photo in each one. There was even a small blurb about the Hellfire Club in your freshman yearbook. As you delved deeper in time, his hair got shorter and shorter, and he looked more and more familiar.

Where did you know this guy from?

When the clock struck 11 pm, you said your goodbye to Steve, checked yourself out in the mirror one last time, and made your way to the theater.

It was twenty minutes until show time when you parked your car and made your way into the lobby. The yellow lights illuminated the crowd of people who had shown up for the annual midnight screening, and you took a deep breath as you scanned the crowd.

Just for tonight, you felt like you could breathe.

Freaks and weirdos from all over had come together for a night of sex jokes, aliens, music, and yelling at a screen. The room was filled with people covered in leather, and lingerie and costumes from both the show and other media. There were a few familiar faces, and you spotted two people that you recognized from the shadow cast in the corner. They looked... upset. Not at each other, you recognized the way they were talking to each other. You and Steve and Robin had given each other the same looks before when Keith had fucked up the schedule or a customer pissed one of you off.

Whatever was the matter, the two quickly finished their bitch session and made their way back into the theater. You wondered what that was about, but didn’t have time to think about it too hard because a hand fell on your shoulder.

Your breath caught in your throat when you turned around to see your date. Eddie’s hair was pulled back into a loose ponytail, which really showed his jawline and really long neck you wondered what the square of his jaw would feel like against your lips. He hadn’t ditched his battle vest or leather jacket you weren’t complaining and he was wearing a cropped shirt . You had to force yourself to not look at his exposed midriff you’ve never wanted to bite someone’s hips before holy shit, or note the fine trail of hair just below his belly button that dipped into his dark ripped jeans where a peak of blue boxers were peaking out. Did he taste as good as he looked?! He had swapped out a few of his rings, but the obsidian one on his right hand stayed, and the chains on his jacket, bracelet and wallet made a noise with every movement he made. What would that sound like if he was on top of you?

A small voice in the back of your mind told you that Dustin Henderson could rent any movie he ever wanted ever forever as long as you worked Family Video.

You pushed those sudden X rated feelings down, and smiled up at him. “Hey, I’m glad you made it.” you managed to say, tongue tied as you thought about what you’d rather your tongue suddenly be doing-

Eddie’s eyes drifted down your outfit in the same way that you were sure you had just looked at him. The idea that he might also be thinking similar thoughts about you made your heart race before he turned away. He was now looking around the lobby with wide eyes, taking in all the different people his expression was somewhere between elation and disbelief.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen this many freaks in person.” he said, his eyes darting around to the crowds of people.

“You aren’t at Hawkins High and these aren’t children.” you said, watching his expression. “It’s why I like coming here each month. I get to meet people who are more like me.”

Eddie took in the scene, and you took in Eddie. Horny thoughts aside, you wondered how often he got to see people who weren’t cut from the standard Hawkins cookie cutter. From what he’d told you during your late night calls, his social circle was tiny. His only friends were in Hawkins, except for one Ronnie Ecker.

You had escaped the monster that was Hawkins High School, even if you were still stuck in the beast of a town. You didn’t have much room to judge his smaller group when Steve and Robin were the only ones who you reliably hung out with on a regular basis. Even then, you knew that the two of them had a connection that went deeper than just coworkers and people who went to school together.

Did Eddie have someone that he connected with the same way Robin and Steve did? There were so many things about him that you still wanted to know about him.

A voice called your name, and your eyes lit up as you saw Robin and Steve walking over to the two of you. Excitement then shifted to confusion, wait, what were they doing here? Did they come here to crash your date? That didn’t seem right, not after Steve had put in so much effort into making sure that this date actually happened.

You and Robin hugged and Steve gave a slightly awkward hello. Eddie was looking between you and your two friends, looking just as confused as you felt.

“Hey, Robin!” you said, trying to figure out what was going on. “What are you guys doing here?”

“You invited us a month ago, remember?” Robin asked. “You made a big deal about dragging us to the Halloween showing this year and Steve and I got tickets. But don’t worry! We know this is a date so me and Steve are going to sit at the opposite side of the theater and make sure that we don’t bother you. Of course, Steve said that we shouldn’t come but we had already bought the tickets and I wanted to come and see this again.”

Oh... oh shit. Right. You had done that, hadn’t you? Before you and Steve had even started this whole thing, you had been bugging him to come see it with you. Robin had come and done it once with you earlier at the end of Summer, but Steve hadn’t been able to make it.

In a sea of lingerie, leather, and sequins, Steve stood out like a sore thumb in his yellow sweater and tall hair. For once, he looked like the odd one out. Robin had always had a slightly edgier style, and with her sharpied black nails and chain necklaces, she fit right in.

You were going to give Steve so much shit for it later.

“Look, I didn’t expect us to actually come out tonight until Robin called and demanded I pick her up.” Steve said, apologetically.

“I see what’s going on.” Eddie spoke up, looking between the three of you. “Mom and Dad are here to chaperone your first date.”

You threw your head back and cackled at the joke, laughing unabashedly.

“Steve’s the single mom with six kids.” Robin said. “But I’m not Dad, I’m more like the cool weird aunt.”

“‘Why am I always the mom?!” Steve demanded.

“Because you have six kids, Steve, keep up.” you pointed out. “But we all know Dustin’s your favorite.”

“I’m telling Wheeler.” Eddie chimed in.

“I’m not the mom, I’m the babysitter!”

“You literally gave Max lunch money two weeks ago.”

“That doesn’t mean-”

“Oh look! They’re starting to tag the Virgins!” You suddenly said excitedly.

Steve and Eddie stopped and stared at you, as your eyes darted to the two cast members that you had seen earlier. Whatever they had been bitching about was now put aside, and they were now walking around, each holding a bright red tube of lipstick. They had approached some guy and drew a giant V on their forehead.

“Right, I didn’t really tell you about this.” you explained. “So at each showing, if you’ve never seen the movie in theaters you’re called a ‘virgin’. So, there’s a bit of a hazing ritual for newcomers. They call it the Virgin Sacrifice here. Basically, they draw a V on your forehead, and then before the show starts they’ll have the Virgins come up on stage, do some sort of dare or task, and then the movie starts.”

“How bad is it?” Steve asked as Robin grabbed his arm and started dragging him to the cast members.

“It’s usually not that bad.” You said. “When I was a Virgin Sacrifice a few years ago they had me ‘Pledge Allegiance to the Lips’ and taught me how to do the Time Warp on stage while the sprayed me with silly string.”

“When I went they had all of us blow up a bunch of red balloons and then hit them with thumb tacks when they were still in our mouths.” Robin laughed. “They called it ‘The Great Cherry Popping’.”

“Oh my God, I remember that one guy had crazy lung capacity and blew up like, ten in a row!” you cackled.

“What do you think they’ll have us do?” Eddie asked, and for a second your brain froze as you felt his hand wrap around yours as you started to approach the cast members. You could feel the metal of his rings, warmed by his skin, pressing into yours.

“They always mix it up every month so it’s hard to say.” you said. “But they always go crazy for the Virgin Sacrifices on Halloween.”

“Got a fresh Virgin for you!” Robin says, shoving Steve in front of the Columbia actress who looked Steve up and down as if she were going to eat him.

“Aww, a cute little Virgin just for me?!” she squealed. “You shouldn’t have! Come here, Big Boy.”

Steve didn’t have much time to react as a large V was placed on his forehead with the lipstick. He didn’t seem to mind, however, when Columbia leaned over and gave him a big kiss on the cheek, leaving a large lipstick stain.

“You know, maybe I’m seeing the appeal of this.” He said as you pushed Eddie up next.

“A two for one deal for ya, Columbia!” you said proudly.

“Two?!” Her eyes lit up, and you could tell that she was having the time of her life. “Is it my birthday?!”

She looked at Eddie and pushed his bangs back as she drew the V on his forehead and gave him a smooch on the cheek as well. You could already tell what Steve was thinking when he looked at you. Probably something like It’s not normal to let another girl kiss your date or something like that. And okay, fine, you were planning on wiping the lipstick off of Eddie’s face before you went in for the kiss tonight, but you didn’t see any reason to be jealous. You knew exactly what was going to happen tonight. Hell, when you first came you ended the night with three different lipstick marksI Really, Steve and Eddie were getting stiffed tonight. Besides, Eddie hadn’t given you any reason to not trust him, and why start anything if you didn’t trust a guy?

“His name is Eddie.” you offered up and Steve gave you another look that you translated to Are you wing manning your own date?! You ignored it.

“What a coincidence! My boyfriend’s name is Eddie!” Columbia said excitedly. “You two even have the same leather jacket! Do you also ride a motorcycle?”

To your delight, Eddie didn’t miss a beat. “Not yet, but I might one day. Just a van for now.”

“Ohh, I bet a lot of fun happens in the back of your van.” she winked, and you could see a slight blush spread across his cheeks and the tips of his ears. “You should come join me and my Eddie for dinner next week, we’re having Meat Loaf!”

You and Robin burst into a fit of giggles at the joke, as Eddie and Steve made eye contact for a moment and just shrugged at each other. Columbia gave Robin a wink and sauntered off to another group with their own Virgin to sacrifice.

With your Virgins freshly marked, snacks in hand, and the doors to the theater opening, you parted ways with Steve and Robin as they made their way to the front row and you made your way to the back with Eddie.

“The back row has my favorite call and response.” you explained as the two of you made your way to an open pair of seats. “And there are a lot of lines that are standard with every show, but if you can think of a good one, don’t even hesitate. Just call it out, okay? I’ll also warn you when people are about to start throwing things.”

“So, this is a bad movie where we are encouraged to yell and throw things?” Eddie asked, a wide grin on his face. “And where we sit depends on what we say?”

“Yes, it’s complete chaos.” you said. “I love it. Every show is always a little different because of the audience participation. Keeps it fresh, you know? Also, if you sit in the back you won’t get popcorn on your hair.”

“Jeff dumped a bucket of popcorn in my hair once.” Eddie said. “It took me a week to get all the kernels out.”

“How the hell did that happen?!”

“I was sitting down, he was walking over with popcorn to bribe me for some roll, and then there was popcorn and butter everywhere.”

“I take it you didn’t give him the advantage he wanted?” you giggled.

“No, he desiccated a snack in front of the Dungeon Master. He’s lucky I didn’t kill his character off when that happened.”

“The more I hear you talk about Hellfire, the more I wish I had been able to join in school.” you sighed. “You always sound like you have so much fun.”

“You... sometimes I do run some one-shots.” Eddie said, messing with one of his rings. “I haven’t done a game for beginners in a while but I could get the others to suck it up and run one for you.”

A warmth burned in your cheeks and you smiled at him. “Really? You’d run a game for me just so I could play?”

“Oh yeah, but just so you know, your movie isn’t the only thing that has its own hazing ritual.” Eddie smiled at you. “I tend to go extra hard on new players, just to make sure that they’re really up for the challenge of being in Hellfire.”

You can go extra hard on me. You just barely managed to keep that as an inside thought with the way he was looking at you with those intense doe eyes. You definitely didn’t miss the subtle way his eyes darted to your lips for just a split second.

Oh, you were so going to kiss him tonight. Not yet, not right now. If you went in for the kiss now, you just knew that you wouldn’t want to stop kissing him. And as much as you wouldn’t mind that, you also really wanted to share this experience with him.

“So, is that a Hellfire thing, or a you thing?” you asked. “Did any former Dungeon Masters have hazing rituals, or are you just that sadistic?”

“Chris didn’t need to haze anyone, if that’s what you’re asking.” Eddie said. “Hard to haze new players if he never let anyone new play.”

“Touche.”

“He was actually in the theater program the last semester he was with Hellfire.” Eddie said suddenly, as if he had just remembered. “He got roped into doing backstage work for the Spring play and ran Hellfire into the ground. He’d always change the schedule of when we could meet up, and then get pissed with everyone when he couldn’t keep up.”

“I heard that doing tech for the shows is always a lot of work.” you said. “But it really sucks that he got pissed.”

“He ended up fully quitting Hellfire halfway through the semester, and that’s when I took over.” Eddie explained. “I had already been running the club anyway, but that just made it more official.”

The lights in the theater flickered on and off, signaling the start of the show.

“They’ll probably call you up to be part of the Virgin Sacrifice.” you said. “If you want to back out, no judgment. Your hair covers your shame, so you could probably duck out”

“I’ll do it.” Eddie said. “It’s only fair, if I run a one-shot for you and refuse to go easy on you, the least I can do is get on stage for your interest.”

Had anyone ever shown this much interest in something you cared about? Robin had come with you before, and Steve had to be dragged here but this felt different somehow. Shit, the more you talked to him, the more you were tempted to ask him to leave the theater right now and show you the back of his van.

“You know, I really always wanted to be part of the shadow cast.” you explained. “I’d love to be on stage as Columbia or Janet, hell I’d even love to be Riff Raff.”

“You want to be on stage in your underwear once a month?” Eddie raised an eyebrow.

“It looks fun, but they never have auditions. It’s a pretty tight community, so you really have to know someone to get in. The most I’ve been able to do is sign up for clean up duty after the show. They give you tickets to the next show if you do that.”

The house lights went down, and you waited for the stage lights to come on and for the cast to come up and introduce the show and start the Virgin Sacrifice. The idea of seeing Steve and Eddie up there made you so giddy, and you couldn’t wait to tell Eddie more about the cast.

But the stage lights never came on. Instead the movie just went and started and soon a bright red pair of lips were on screen, singing to everyone.

They were skipping the Virgin Sacrifice? You had been going to this show for years and they never skipped the Virgin Sacrifice. And on Halloween? What was going on?

You were disappointed, but there was no use letting it ruin your evening. You shook it off and focused on singing along and teaching Eddie the important things to shout and when. How could you be too disappointed when Eddie was having so much fun? He was a natural, and witty and was quick to pick up on the jokes.

It helped even more that he was still holding your hand.

But something felt off during the whole show. There were a few members of the cast that you didn’t recognize, and they were giving a less than stellar performance. Choreography was wrong, the lip syncing was off, and Janet’s bra and slip were too... sexy. You also felt the man with the long sandy hair playing Rocky would have better been suited for Riff Raff.

Whoever coordinated this show, didn’t do a very good job. You felt bad that Steve and Eddie’s first time at the show wasn’t the best, especially after you had talked it up so much.

If Eddie noticed the lackluster performance, he didn’t say anything. Maybe you were being too nitpicky, he was having a blast after all. Eddie was cracking jokes, and his voice carried through the theater so well even the front row fuck the front row! could hear him.

As the credits rolled, and everyone made their way out to the lobby, you met back up with Steve and Robin.

“That movie made even less sense than when you told us about it.” Steve said and you just shrugged.

“I never said it made sense, I just said it was fun.”

“I wouldn’t mind coming back.” Eddie said. “I wonder if they’d consider a live band to go with the stage actors.”

You had to stop yourself from dropping down to your knees. One knee or two, you hadn’t decided yet.

Robin yawned and you caught a glimpse of a lipstick mark on her jaw. You made a note to ask about that later. “If I’m out any later, my parents are gonna kill me. I still have school in the morning.”

“Alright, let’s get you home.” Steve said. “See you two around.” His eyes darted down to where your hand and Eddie’s were still clasped together before pushing Robin out of the lobby and towards the parking lot.

You and Eddie followed behind, but didn’t head straight for your cars. The two of you moved to stand below the yellow lighting of the yellow marquis. You watched as Eddie leaned against the brick wall and lit a cigarette, blowing smoke that disappeared under the clear sky.

Under this lighting, you had a familiar feeling. There was something in the back of your mind, like a picture that was made of the same smoke coming from between his lips. Every time you reached out and almost had it, it disappeared in an instant. Something about the way he looked right now gave you a faint memory of being nervous, but not in a bad way.

“That might be the first time I’ve ever felt normal.” Eddie said, looking at you. “I didn’t realize how many freaks there really were in Indiana.”

“There are freaks and weirdos everywhere, if you know where to look.” you said. Eddie pocketed his lighter and took another drag. “Most people hide it though. I’m glad you don’t.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. It’s nice to see someone really being themselves in this town. You’re a breath of fresh air.” you looked out at the street, watching as people got in their cars and drove out of the parking lot. You caught a glimpse of the Columbia, only catching her by her hair and make up as she rushed out of the theater towards the parking lot. “I... even if this doesn’t go anywhere, I like you.” you admitted. “I want to keep being friends.”

Eddie frowned and faced you. He had dropped your hand to light his cigarette, and you noticed his hand move towards yours before stopping and falling back to his side.

“Is this your way of letting me down easy?” he asked, and your heart broke seeing the confusion in his big brown doe eyes.

“No!” you said quickly. “No, not even a little. No. I want to see you again. A lot.”

Eddie’s face relaxed and this time he did take your hand. He dropped his cigarette and snuffed out the butt with his sneaker. You took the hint and moved closer to him as well.

“You like me?” he asked, and you liked the way his dimples showed when he smiled.

That was the high sign. You didn’t even care that he still had a lipstick mark on his cheek, when all you could focus on were those warm brown eyes. You started to lean in, and you felt Eddie’s free hand move to your arm and up towards your shoulder. When he got close enough to count his unfairly long eyelashes, you closed your eyes-

“Eddie? Eddie Munson?”

Reality snapped back into place as you two heard a voice. You looked at Eddie’s face first, and there was an intense look in his eyes. His hand fell from your arm, while you tried to decipher what his expression meant.

You turned around to see who he was looking at, ready to kill whoever had interrupted the moment.

You hadn’t recognized him on stage as Rocky. The man's long sandy hair was now tied back and his overgrown fringe still fell into his gray eyes. He had filled out since high school, and he wasn’t wearing that stony scowl that had been his staple all through the years you’d seen him.

“Chris Morrison?!”

ALSO I think I might have run out of blogs to tag? It won't let me tag anymore blogs for the tag list but you can also find this story on AO3 and sub there as well!

Next Chapter

a/n: This chapter turned out way longer than expected and I still didn't fit everything into it! I had a whole other scene planned out, but that just means I have the motivation to start on the next part!

Dividers by @strangergraphics

Tag List: @k8loo @terrormonster55 @sp1dyb0y1008 @crocwork-clockodile @ali-r3n @mxcheese @josephquinnschesthair @gagasbee @peaches-roses-sins @witchwolflea @vintagehellfire @royale1803 @cumslutforaemond @prestinalove @browneyedgirl320 @perpetualmessmachine @thebook-hobbit @mistonk @cultish-corner @grishaversecaptivated @sortagaysortahigh @halialex1119 @bakugouswhOr3 @siriuslysmoking @pookiesnatcher @sky-full-0f-fl0wers @takemetoneverlandbabe @killjoynotes @maelibo @themunsonator5000 @wheels-of-despair @woodlandsubshrub @ghcstpyre @pedroschka

#nacht fic #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you

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a-kaash-me-outside · 1 year

Text

a bit dirty - ch3

in which you hook up with osamu in a club bathroom and that's just the beginning. prev | ch3 | next [masterlist]

// probably a bad idea ~ ᴏsᴀᴍᴜ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ~ 6874 ᴡᴏʀᴅs

a look into this chapter: 18+ minors dni nsfw, hotel, disgustingly sweet, needy as fuck, kissing during sex, fucking your boss, names names names pet names a million pet names, slight slowburn? like they fuck but-, afab she/her pronouns

join my taglist here!! ~~ ♡ ʀᴇʙʟᴏɢs ᴀɴᴅ ɪɴᴛᴇʀᴀᴄᴛɪᴏɴs ᴍᴇᴀɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡᴏʀʟᴅ ♡

you’d think that seeing osamu nearly every single day after the night that you fucked him in your place of work, in his restaurant, would ruin something between the two of you.

and sure, yes, there was always, and still is, ruminating under your skin, simmering in the depths of your stomach, resting at the forefront of your mind: the memory of that night, not even the act or the desperation, but the succeeding moment where he held you in his arms, kissed the back of your neck, the point in time before you told him it was a bad idea, the one where he didn’t regret a thing and neither did you.

even the morning after that night in onigiri miya, you two joke like it never happened. well, sorta like it never happened, because when you got there a bit early, osamu was already there. he was leaving the bathroom, wiping sweat off of his forehead, mop in hand, and both of you knew exactly what he was doing. neither of you said it, but the sheepish smile that you wore and the embarrassed adjustment of his cap as he put away the cleaning supplies spoke loud enough.

and that day you moved in sync, just like always. it was busy, really busy actually, but with the two of you working together, people were sat and fed and paid and gone all with a smile on their face. it’s wordless, the way that you compliment each other. you remember the things that he forgets and he knows exactly when you need a bit of extra support.

there’s always been an inkling of synchrony ever since you started working there, but as you learned the ropes a bit more, as you memorized the menu and fully understood the ordering system, the two of you got even more dynamic.

part of it, maybe most of it, was the fact that you genuinely cared about this place, about osamu’s well being and success and the way that his reputation was perceived. you wanted every customer that came in to leave happy, to tell their friends about the nice girl that worked at onigiri miya and the delicious food that they had.

you became indispensable, really.

some days it was just the two of you. on busy saturday nights that used to easily need 3 or 4 workers plus osamu running around and taking orders and clearing dishes and packing to-gos in the tiny kitchen, your team of two got along just fine. help was nice and always welcomed, but when it came down to it, osamu knew he could count on you, on just you, no matter what.

so when he asks you if you’ll work a catering gig with him a few hours out of town over the weekend, you probably shouldn’t be surprised, but you are, not because of anything work-related or because you feel like he should ask someone more capable, but because it’s only been a few short weeks since that night in onigiri miya and despite the fact that in your work environment nothing has changed, you still find yourself terrified that you’re going to revoke your treaty of no more.

“me?” you ask, bag on your shoulder, no longer on the clock, and a few steps from the door. he’s caught you on your way out, a casual invitation in the empty restaurant that draws you back towards the bar where he’s standing.

“c’mon, yea, of course, who else?” he says, furrowing his eyebrows. then he explains further, “travel and stay will be paid for obviously. we’ll drive up the day before, stay the night, work the event, and then drive back that night,” he explains, leaning on the counter top, one arm over the other. he points at you to make his final sell, “and it’s overtime pay because it’s a catering event.”

truthfully, you couldn’t care less about the money, aren’t thinking about it even after he’s mentioned it, you have much more on your mind like, why me why me why me why me?

“why me?” you ask, unsure why it’s made it past the barrier of your brain and lips. it was supposed to stay trapped in your mind. you’re grateful it’s only those two words and not the full string of when we’ve literally had sex two times and it’s hard enough for me to keep my hands and mind off of you when we’re in this fucking restaurant let alone a roadtrip to another city.

he laughs, “if i bring anyone else, i’ll actually have to bring two or three instead of just you, and then everyone needs their own hotel room, and then i have to make sure i have enough room in my car.” he waves his hand at the thought of the hassle. “easier to bring the best person than a few good people, y’know?”

their own hotel room. and now you can’t get the idea out of your head, of osamu inviting you into his hotel room, of him slipping you an extra key and asking you to spend the night with him, how he wouldn’t even have to ask for you to go back on your word so quickly, how different it would be to have sex with him in an actual bed and not on top of a sink or up against a bathroom wall.

you know it shouldn’t, but it’s only making you lean in the direction of yes even more (as if you weren’t already going to say yes just because he asked). it probably won’t even happen, isn’t even a thought on his mind. he said it himself, it was just easier to bring you.

“plus,” he tacks on, “i’d enjoy your company maybe a bit more,” he adds, “might be a bit selfish.” his smile says it all, contagious and bright as he asks, “so, whaddya say?”

“of course,” you nod, no hesitancy.

/\ /\ /\

in the aftermath of the busyness of your last shift before you leave for the catering event, you’re smoothing out all of the details that you might need to know for the weekend.

what the event is, anyway: some corporate business meeting something or other, he doesn’t really remember the name, he just knows how much they’re paying and what they’re paying for

the plan on how osamu is picking you up: if you just give him your address, he can just pick you up so you don’t have to make your way to him or the restaurant

what time you’re leaving: at noon, the hotel that you’re staying in is also the place that the catering event takes place in. it’s about a 4 hour drive or so.

you’re making note of all of these things in your head, nodding along to the information that he’s giving you. “so, you’ll be able to sleep in?” you ask in response to the late start time.

he stops what he’s doing, rag left on the countertop as he laughs, throws his head back and shakes his head, eyebrows furrowed. if he weren’t as kind and considerate as you know he is, this could’ve come off very differently. “absolutely not,” he shakes his head, “i’ll be coming in to prep for the morning here, making sure that everything is in order for sumu to be in charge while i’m gone.” he says the last part with a shiver.

“what? he doesn’t do a good job?” you ask, tilting your head, but you can’t hold the joke for that long, so you laugh right along with him.

“thought you were serious for a second,” osamu says, still laughing, “shouldn’t be too bad this time ‘cause we’re not even gone for a full day, really. i’ll prep for him the morning of and close for him the night we’re back. won’t be that bad.”

“he doesn’t know how to close?” you ask, reaching out to grab the rag that osamu left on the counter while he laughed at the thought of sleeping in for once. you take over for him, wiping down the counters carefully, thoroughly.

osamu recovers, smiles at this tiny gesture and then moves to restocking the fridge. “nuhhuh. don’t trust him with numbers and receipts, just have him throw everything in a paper bag for me to take care of when i’m back,” he calls from his crouched position on the floor.

“y’know, i know it wouldn’t help you now, but you could probably teach me how to close if you wanted,” you offer, and he’s really grateful for the fact that you’re not able to see how much this affects him, “or open or both,” you plop the rag back into the clean water before finishing the few bar glasses in the adjacent sink, “that way you could sleep in once in awhile or not have to worry about closing all by yourself sometimes.”

he’s quiet for a second because he’s feeling a lot of feelings that have nothing to do with training you to open or to close and he’s trying his best to sort through them quickly to offer you a reply. to you, however, the silence feels like contemplation on how to tell you he doesn’t think that’d be a good idea, so you add quickly, “if- if you wanted? y’know, or if you don’t think i’m ready, i completely understand-”

“that would be really great, actually,” he cuts you off, soft and polite, “i really appreciate that.”

you’re warm now, trying to sort through a lot of feelings that are arising into your chest and your cheeks, so you just hum in response. the two of you finish your closing duties together and as you’re clocking out, you ask him one last question, “oh! last question,” you say, turning to him after you punch the buttons into the computer, “since we’re not at the restaurant, should i still wear my uniform?”

“it’s a bit nicer of a catering event, actually,” he notes, “you could wear your uniform if you want but probably should wear something else, something a bit more professional, maybe? black pants, maybe a skir-”

“a dress?” you cut him off.

if he says his words too fast, he’s worried that he’ll seem woefully unprofessional, but if he waits too long he’s worried that you might mistake hesitancy for reluctance. “yea,” he says, nodding, “that would be- that would be perfect,” he adds on, trying to be a bit more casual, a bit less flustered, “or whatever you wanted to wear.”

“great,” you say, nodding, “i still haven’t packed yet, so that is very helpful.” you wait a pause to see if he’ll continue the conversation, if he has anything else to say, because if he said a single other word, you’d sit right down and talk with him all night. you wait long enough and you’re somewhat grateful for his lack of response, because you need a good night’s sleep to be sharp enough for this weekend. “do you need anything else?” you ask, apron in your bag, bag on your shoulder, body towards the door.

he shakes his head, a smile on his face, “see ya tomorrow.”

“see ya tomorrow, samu,” you say, a small wave thrown as you leave the restaurant, unnecessarily giddy and very light.

/\ /\ /\

when he picks you up, you’re not prepared for how casual osamu looks, sunglasses and baggy black t-shirt as he walks around the front of his car to grab your bag. your tiny bag, your backpack. you were only going to be away for a night, you fit everything in a small black bag that you most definitely could carry, but he asks if he can put it in the back for you anyway.

he opens the passenger door for you too, doesn’t linger around, just props it open for you to climb inside and you’re really not sure how you’re supposed to get through this car ride, let alone the better half of a weekend with just the two of you.

on the drive to the hotel, osamu teaches you all about how catering events differ from the regular restaurant. “they’re actually easier, honestly, ‘cause we’ve only gotta worry about the people in front of us, not seating or packing orders or answering the phone, just one at a time,” he says.

on the drive to the hotel, osamu tells you all about his favorite songs, cycling through playlists and telling you why they mean so much to him. he learns about yours, not because you offer them blindly even, but because he asks, hands you his phone and tells you to play your favorite album cover to cover, we’ve got time.

on the drive to the hotel, osamu explains the reason that he and his brother are so close, highlights moments from his childhood that he thinks contributed to who they are today, asks about your family and where you grew up, and is surprisingly good at driving while looking over at you with admiration in his eyes every other second.

on the drive to the hotel, osamu takes you to one of his favorite places to eat, hidden in a small town with a shitty parking lot, and he asks if he can order for you, recalls the time that you told him you were adventurous and not picky, but still asks you to trust him and you answer back a bit too quickly that you do. the food is simple but incredible and osamu listens to every word you have to say about it even though they maybe aren’t as concise as his and when the bill comes, he pays it in full, doesn’t listen to a single complaint that you have about splitting it or paying for your own.

on the drive to the hotel, osamu brakes a little bit too hard, reaches over and puts his hand on your thigh to warn you and your stomach has not stopped doing flips since. you have to fight yourself so hard to not put your own hand on top of it, to spread your legs a bit wider, to lean over and kiss him so hard that you cause an accident.

on the drive to the hotel, you realize that there’s no way you make it through this weekend without doing something you should maybe regret, but don’t.

/\ /\ /\

but when you get to the hotel, osamu only asks for one key, no secret second one that he can slip you as a knowing gesture. your rooms are on opposite sides of the huge hotel, no running into each other late at night or being one wall away, and even though the two of you get dinner together after you’ve freshened up a bit, it wraps up pretty quickly.

as the two of you get up from the table, osamu reasons, “should probably call it an early night. we’re on at like 6 or something,” he says, “i’ll meet you at the bottom of the elevators at 5:55 to walk over there together?”

it’s the perfect opportunity for him to be bold or you to be outward, but you know that he’s just respecting exactly what you told him. he’s not going against your hesitant advice for last time to be the last time. he’s being perfectly attentive and a much better person than you probably would’ve been if the roles were reversed.

“that sounds great,” you say, whining a soft question about why the conference has to start so early and he throws back a teasing quip of how you agreed to this and how business people need good breakfasts too. you walk back with him to the elevators, but you enter different ones.

and the two of you go up to your separate rooms alone.

/\ /\ /\

given that the night had to go as it did, vis-a-vi you not spending it with osamu, you’re grateful for how early you went to bed. waking up before sunrise is never fun, but you feel almost ready to accomplish a full day because you had a pretty good night’s sleep.

you meet osamu at the bottom of the elevator promptly at 5:55am in the black dress that you mentioned in passing and your onigiri miya embroidered apron in your arms and you’re cursing yourself for not expecting this.

all the signs were there, all of his mentions of a nicer event and nicer clothes and how of course it didn’t just apply to you. when you round the corner, you see him. hair combed neat, bangs pushed back, black collared long-sleeve button-up, and tan pleated dress pants, and you feel like you need a do-over of this morning, because how are you supposed to just not tell him how good he looks this morning and walk to work like the only thought in your head isn’t how badly you want him.

“morning,” you call out, soft so that you don’t startle osamu who is looking down at his phone, scrolling to pass the time. “have you been waiting long?” you ask.

“only a few minutes, my fault for wak-,” he starts, clicking his phone off and putting it in his pocket, and then he sees you… and then he takes a few moments to really see you, trying to cover up his wandering eyes with the rest of his stumbling sentence, “for- uh, for waking up on time, or- er- early.”

“how did you sleep?” you ask, breezing over his reaction, because if you focus on it too long you will sound the exact same way.

“good,” he nods, short response because he’s learned his lesson, “you?” he gestures towards the direction that you’re heading and starts to move, slow steps until you’re right next to him.

“not bad, pretty good,” you say, hesitating a bit because you know the connotation of your next words, but he’s looking at you patiently, genuinely listening and caring about how you slept last night and his collar is neat against his neck and if you don’t say something, he’ll never understand how sorry you are for wanting that last time to be the last time. “king bed was a bit big just for me,” you say as you approach the stand of tables and warmers and portable burners.

you step behind them, pausing to see how he’ll respond. you’re hoping for a sorry or a flirty is that so or we don’t have to check out until 3, but instead he just asks, “do you want me to do up your apron?” it’s the only time he’s asked this since your first week and you’re slightly confused until you nod yes slowly and he steps behind you, hands on your waist as he holds you still.

he pulls the apron out of your arms, smooths it over your stomach, tugs on the strings, sending you softly back into his chest. “sorry, doll,” he says against your ear, making no move to separate this contact. your eyes dart around the open hall that the stand is occupying. there isn’t a single other person here, but your heart is beating like you’re on full display.

he runs his hands down your sides and your hips, holds the strings of your apron with one hand as the other ghosts over the tight fabric of your dress, palm kneading into your ass, sliding down the tops of the backs of your thighs. when he moves his hands, his hips replace them, pressed taut against you as he makes a pretty bow against your lower back.

osamu pulls away from you slowly and when you turn around to face him, you can see his chest rising and falling slightly faster than before, a look on his face asking for confirmation. you put your hand on his chest, on the dull thumping beneath his sternum, “thank you, samu.”

“mornin’ rush starts at 7, so we should probably prep,” he mentions, bending over to pick up the rice cooker from under the table, conversation back to normal no matter how much you wish it wasn’t, “should be done after the lunch rush at 1:30,” he says, turning his attention to you, looking you straight in the eyes, “and i think check-out’s at 3.”

if you were trying to play coy right now, the whimper that leaves you ruins the entire facade, but you aren’t. you unabashedly need him right now, or at 1:30 whatever, and you want him to know that. “okay,” you nod, “1:30,” you repeat.

the second that you start working the morning shift, you’re moving nonstop, a constant line for most of the day. you have a few steady hours of non-stop work, and osamu is right, it is much easier. you only have to focus on one person at a time and you and osamu work just as well here under high, ballroom ceilings, serving onigiri to people in suits and blazers as you do in the small walls of onigiri miya.

when you’re busy, it’s hard not to think only about the task at hand, at taking orders and making onigiri and politely conversing with customers. but when it slows down, when the tiny break right before 11 hits, when the late risers have finished their breakfast and the lunch cravings haven’t quite hit yet and not a single person shows up at the booth or even in the surrounding area, it’s much harder not letting your mind wander.

it’s only you and osamu, only the two of you, pressed up against each other, leaning on the back table, not saying anything, but a million things on your mind, not a single one not about him. you look over at the clock on the wall. it’s been 10 minutes since you’ve seen one other person.

“does it usually get this slow during catering events?” you ask.

“nah, but i think everyone is gone for meetings and whatever for another few hours,” he says, gesturing to the large floor sign with the schedule plastered on the front. “it’ll pick up once everything lets out at noon, but we’ve got like an hour until then.”

your eyes are up on the clock again, seconds tick, tick, ticking by, but not fast enough. 1:30 is too far away, isn’t close enough, not when there’s no one around and osamu’s side is pressed up against yours and his hand has just moved to rest against your other hip, arm across your lower back because he just wants to touch you.

“i don’t think i can wait until 1:30,” he says, quietly and only to you, as if there were anyone else around to hear if he talked normally. you turn to him, chest against his side now and his hand moves to pull you closer, fingers spanning over your ass, gripping into the fat.

you look up at him and you don’t even have to say it, don’t have to verbally reciprocate this impatience, he can see it on your face. you want to kiss him. he needs to kiss you. you can’t kiss here in the openness of the hall and it’s making everything have to happen much quicker. if you could kiss him now, feel his lips against yours and his hands against your body, you could’ve waited a few minutes to start undressing him, to walk back to your hotel room or find somewhere a bit more private, but without his lips on yours, you needed to get out of here right now.

your eyes flicker to the sign, employee bathroom, and osamu follows your gaze, chest forward, immediately ready to follow you. he roots around the stand, finds a sign that says something about stepping away for a minute and puts it at the forefront of the booth and then you’re gone. he’s following you so closely, hand in your hand, rioting pulse against your own.

he barely has time to lock the door before you’re on him, pulling him, grabbing him, unbuttoning the top buttons of his shirt in a hurry to feel his skin in your hands, lips smashed against his as you do so and the second that they meet, all feels right in the world.

it feels like everything slows down and you let it. your heart beats a bit slower, more regular, you’re more careful with this buttons against his chest, your kiss is sweeter, softer. he’s holding your face in the palm of his hands, no tongue or teeth, just a deep kiss that has your stomach in knots, that could make you break down in tears, that could give you a toothache.

“m sorry i said,” you say against his lips and he moves to pull away but you push right back. you don’t care if he can barely hear you, you need to kiss him. you don’t want to stop kissing him. if you spent the entire hour in this bathroom just kissing him that might be satisfying enough. “sorry i said we shouldn't do this again, was really dumb,” you murmur.

he tries harder this time, pulls your face away from his, wipes the gathering tear in the outer corner of your eye, gives you a tiny peck, and then says, loud for you to hear it, “it’s alright, sweetheart, just glad to kiss ya again.” he has to wipe more tears now as they start falling down the side of your face, dripping off of your chin before he can catch them, and you don’t really know why you’re crying, you just don’t want to stop kissing him, don’t want to be without his touch or out of his grasp.

the second that his lips are back on yours, the tears cease, happy to feel him again and taste him again and you’re so slow to unbutton his shirt, but you don’t pull away until each one is open. you place both of your palms on his bare chest, slide them down the toned muscle and his abs, push your fingertips around his sides, and clasp them behind his lower back, pulling him with you until your lower back meets the counter.

he leans down, forehead against the top of your head, speaking into the tiny confines he’s created with the two of you pressed together and the boundaries of your chests. his breath is warm and his words shake you, “think i can properly taste ya now, pretty?” your knees are weak as you nod against him, whimpers plentiful as he helps you jump onto the counter and sinks onto his, perfectly level with your squeezed together thighs.

osamu places his large hands on top of your thighs, thumbs digging down against the insides to pry them open, dress riding up to your hips as he spreads your legs wide. you’re already drenched, soaking wet just from kissing him and listening to his voice and you aren’t the least bit embarrassed. he moves your panties to the side with one hand, pushes his other up your thigh, thumb following the inside until it brushes up against your cute little clit, flicking it with the pad gently.

at the first touch, you recoil slightly, jumping at the sensation. osamu reaches up, places one hand on your hip, a tender reminder to stay put, and then he can’t help it. he leans forward quickly, tongue hanging out of his mouth, running the flat of it between your slick folds, curling his tongue to gather your juices, to taste them as they run down his throat.

the second that he tastes you, really tastes you, finally tastes you, he can’t control himself. he hooks both arms under your knees, pulling you closer, knocking you off balance slightly, back colliding with the mirror as he pulls your cunt into his mouth deeper. he’s using everything he can to taste you, to get you off, his teeth and tongue and nose and lips and you can feel every single little detail.

the noises coming from between your legs are so lewd, so vulgar, the wet slurping and heavy panting breaths every time he comes up for air. he squeezes your plush thighs against his cheeks, can’t get enough of your delicate skin and your sweet taste. he’s murmuring things into your soft pussy now and you can’t hear him, but you can feel the vibrations and if you weren’t so close to coming all over his tongue, you’d care more about messing up his hair as you thread your fingers into it, grabbing tightly onto his locks as you pull him in deeper.

“samu,” you cry, tears starting again because the way that the tip of his tongue is prodding against your tight hole, circling around the rim, teeth scraping against your throbbing clit, mouth rubbing against your puffy lips, your core is on fire, so tight, and you’re coming all over his face, flooding and gushing, and the noises don’t stop, they get worse.

they get wetter and more intense and you’ve already come on his pretty face, but he looks up at you, mascara smudged against your cheekbones from crying two times already, and he decides that he needs to taste your come again. you’re so sensitive and he’s so good, it doesn’t take very long at all for you to be creaming all over his perfect tongue again.

“taste so fucking good, puppy,” he practically growls, low and breathless, standing up, chest sliding between your legs, “need-,” he breathes, “need to feel you all sloppy on my cock again, babygirl, yea?” you nod, reaching a hand up to rest on his chest and he leans forward for you to reach. your other hand stays gripped around the edge of the counter, bracing yourself for his thick, fat cock to split you open.

you don’t need to watch him undo his dress pants or take himself out of his boxers. you keep your eyes on his, lift your chin up slightly because you can’t find the right words for if you don’t kiss me right now i’ll cry again. you don’t have to. he leans down, leaking cock pressed against the inside of your thigh as he presses his lips to yours, sweet and soft, back of his fingertips falling down the side of your jaw, palm resting on your collarbone as he pulls away.

before he slips inside of you, he leans back, squeezes your legs together and rests them on one of his shoulders. he uses his hand to guide himself, rubs the underside of his head against your sloppy lips, grunting softly at how good you feel against his sensitive tip. this grunt only gets louder, deeper, more guttural as he sinks inside of you, thick cock pushing through your puffy lips and slick folds, and he turns his head, kissing the side of your calf.

he’s all the way inside of you, hips pressed against the backs of your thighs, kisses your leg again, shaky and ruined as he shudders, “fuck, bunny, missed ya, missed ya so much.” you don’t know what’s fluttering more, your tight, gummy walls around him or your flipping, empty stomach, and you don’t know how to communicate how much you missed him too.

when you try, it comes out as, “deeper, samu, please.” it’s whiney and desperate and skips out of your tight throat, but he hears it. he understands what you mean more than you even do, spreading your legs again, letting them fall against the edge of the cold counter as he wraps his arms around your back, scooches you closer to him. your chest is pressed against his, forehead against his shoulder, his hand is on the back of your head, holding you close. he pulls you closer to him, deeper onto his cock, one hand on the small of your back, hips pressing forward to meet you.

his hand migrates to the back of your neck, fingers twirling around locks of your hair as he stays buried deep inside of you, not moving, just feeling you surrounding him. you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling his face deeper into the crook of yours, aching to have him impossibly closer.

when he finally starts moving, his strokes are long and slow, pulling out so that his swollen head is the only thing inside of you and pushing back in until his hips are pressed flush against the insides of your thighs. “‘s that better, baby?” he asks into your soft skin.

“‘smuch better, thank you, samu,” you say in between soft moans and tiny sobs. “thank you,” you repeat, circling your hips, disrupting his steady rhythm because you just can’t sit still. he doesn’t mind, pulls away to watch you squirm as his cock disappears between your sticky folds.

“c’mere, doll,” he coaxes, helps you down and holds you close as he switches positions with you, his lower back on the edge of the counter, lifting one of your legs and resting your knee beside his hip and the top of the sink. “lemme fuck ya harder, okay, dove?” you whimper, nodding so hard that you make yourself dizzy, forehead falling against his shoulder again, kisses placed into his collarbones because you need your lips against some part of him.

every time he pulls his hips back, slides his cock out of you to fuck into you again, gravity has you falling back onto his cock, harsh and sudden, filling you full every time his hips move away from you like you’re magnets. he wraps one arm around the small of your back, the other bracing the weight of the two of you with his fist gripped around the edge of the counter.

he holds you against him and thrusting up into you is less like his cock driving up into you and more like moving you up. he can’t feel the drag of his cock parting your tight walls, but he can feel the pressure of your thighs weighing on his hips as he fucks upwards and he can hear the cute little noises you make as you fall back on his cock and he decides that he has to get you back into this position again, it’s like air to him.

“princess,” he whines, and you hum.

“babygirl,” he coos, and you hum louder this time in case he hasn’t heard you over the clapping of your sticky skin against his.

“my pretty angel,” he adores, and this time you pick your head up off of his shoulder, thread your fingers into his hair to force his attention, to show you that you’re listening really good,

“samu, baby, what?” you ask, voice like flowing honey. you repeat yourself because it feels good leaving your lips and the smitten, blushy look that arises on osamu’s face needs to stick around a little longer, “samu, what can i do for you, baby?”

the answer is just this. he doesn’t say anything and he hopes that you understand, the only thing that he needs right now is you, is this, this slow, intimate moment where he’s looking at you and you’re looking back at him and he can hear every single time that your thighs slap against his and he can feel how warm you are and watch how pretty you are, and there’s only one thing that could make this better. you lean forward, press your lips onto his, exhale a breath against them. okay, there are two things that could make this moment better. “pretty girl, can you come for me?” he says, but that’s not quite right, so he corrects himself, “can i make you come?”

you swallow harshly before you nod, bracing yourself for the pick up in speed and force, and you’re glad that you do. when he starts to fuck into you harder, faster, not letting you fully fall back onto his cock before picking you up again. you almost fall to the floor. you’re balancing on one leg, but it’s nearly worthless, rendered jelly at this point, so you hang off of osamu’s neck.

he doesn’t slow down with this extra weight, of your arms around his neck and of being completely responsible for you right now. really, the responsibility he’s feeling and the trust that you’re putting in him only makes him want you more. “come, puppy, lemme feel it, make a mess for me, yea?”

the whimpers that tear from your throat fill his head so full that there isn’t much room for anything else up there, only the responsibility to hold you and the need to fuck you through it. you’re trying to get his name out of your mouth, but you can only give him broken syllables, though that’s enough for him. “s-a sa s- sam- amu-”

“i know, babygirl, i know,” he whispers, and he feels bad that he can’t give you another or wreck you even harder, god knows you’d come undone so much faster a fourth time, but he’s so close, so fucking close hearing you so ruined, feeling you dripping down his cock.

“angel,” he says like a question, “don’t wanna make a mess on your nice black dress, doll. can i come on your pretty tongue, pumpkin?” he asks.

“will you let me kiss you after?” you worry, the only thought that’s making you hesitate even the slightest amount.

“oh, sweetheart, nothing could stop me,” he says, pressing a kiss into your temple before helping you to the floor.

the tile is cold on your knees, but you only feel it for a second, the sensation lost to your brain as the only one that inhabits it now is osamu’s heavy cock on your tongue. his fingers are softly pinching your chin, thumb rubbing against your bottom lip as he pumps his fist around his cock once, a second time, and on the third stroke, his load is spilling onto your tongue. it doesn’t take him long at all, looking down at you looking up at him, heavy lashes and smeared mascara, kind eyes and swollen lips, pretty wet tongue and heaving chest.

he’s come between your thighs enough times for you to know how his release feels, slow and thick and plentiful, and on your tongue it’s no different, but you can taste it, bitter and salty but addicting, and it slides down your throat so nice that you barely have to swallow. you wrap your lips around his head, flick the tip of your tongue against his slit as one last rope coats the inside of your cheek.

the second that he’s done, before he’s even caught his breath again, he helps you to your feet, picks you up, wraps your legs around his waist and kisses you as hard as he can. he can taste himself on your lips and it’s driving him fucking crazy because he knows you can taste yourself on his lips and he never wants either to fade.

he can’t stop kissing you, can’t pull away from you, but neither of you can breathe. it was already hard enough recovering from something like that when you were able to catch your breath. when he finally does pull away, you can’t stop smiling. you place your palm on his cheek, gently, softly, run your thumb over his bottom lip because you know you can’t kiss him right now and this will just have to do for the moment.

when your breathes return to normal, when the room isn’t filled with harsh claps and lewd noises and desperate moans, when even the sounds of tissues being discarded and clothes being smoothed fade, you can hear a voice outside.

“does anyone know where miya-san is? it’s nearly noon and he’s still not back.”

the bliss dissipates quickly, bubbles of whatever feelings are floating around between the two of you are popped. the neediness has come down, your one-track minds now have more, and the moment you so badly wanted to capture in your heart forever now has a horribly tainted ending.

there’s no mention of we shouldn't do this again as he leaves first, and maybe it's wordless, maybe it's gone unsaid, because it doesn’t need to be said. the ramifications of your actions are laid out in front of you. you have the entirety of the 5 minutes that you wait alone in the bathroom to count every single consequence of this stupid lust-driven endeavor.

or maybe neither of you have the strength to try to stop yourself anymore. maybe it goes unsaid, because you both know that you shouldn't do it, but neither one of you is going to follow that. you already tried it once and you couldn’t even make it a few weeks, wouldn’t even have lasted this long if you were alone together like this sooner.

so why try?

you’re not exactly sure which one it is, which reason of unsaid caution you should follow the path of, but you do know that you’re going to spend every single day until then trying. you open the door to the bathroom. maybe one day you’ll figure it out.

taglist: @miyaluv127 @useless-bicth @mushasstuff @unstaaableaf @mimivinx @tsukiran @kurapika-1999 @hehatesmati @karmakarter @hunny-hotline @bella009888 @um-no-ok @footjib @mon-cherries @privthemis @agashki @renster05 @greeniegreengreen @tokyo-banana @fandomtrash5092 @coyloves @heathsuii @pasta-water @ran-rangasma @ayz-it-they @ellesalzar @dabibreeder @s4m1 @perry-gallifrey @barely-coherent @katsunarii @thisbicc @jaynawayna @levis-wheelchair @sugar-crumbs @miyaslvt @sheeshizzy @i0nlyr343mut @ajbutasimp @snazzyturtles @idontevenknowlolls @nicerthanu @angelgvtzzz @lovely-part-time-whore @lilac-ski3s @dovenu @heirxx @kur0obaby @tetsuswhore @alienvarmint @georgettesand @misfit-megumi @bijuu-naginata @captain-alien-america @ti-mame

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mrsparrasblog · 1 month

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Makarov x Price daughter pt.4

This chapter is just to explain what Price did in the whole year since his daughter is gone. Its different then the other ones I still hope you like it. I'll try to set myself a goal to publish the next chapter tomorrow.

Previous Part. next part

Four months he was away from his home, from his wife Tina, and you. God, he missed you and couldn’t wait to see you again. He planned the whole month how he would apologize to you for saying you were a disappointment. Of course, you weren't a disappointment; he just didn't know how to show it to you. You weren't his little girl anymore, so grown and independent. Tina needed him more than you, or at least he thought so. Tina was a spitfire, always getting in danger, disrespecting teachers, while you were a perfectly behaved little girl. Never once in his life occurred the thought that you could do anything wrong. So he neglected you, and he knew that was a mistake now.

During this time off, he would give you all the attention you needed and finally be the dad you deserved. If only you'd accept his apology. He finally arrived in Cardiff, his clothes still dirty from the long flight, his beard overgrown, and he looked a bit like a Neanderthal, but this time he couldn't wait. He rang the bell, Tina and his wife already running into his arms.

"Where is she?" he asked curiously, eager to find out where you were. You mostly took the day off when he came back from deployment. Maybe you couldn’t or did overtime again because a birth took longer than planned.

"Dunno," his wife said bluntly, not mentioning the fact that you hadn’t been home for three months. She saw you making out with an older guy again the day you went "missing". In her mind, you were a spoiled brat who didn't appreciate everything she gave you. She wasn’t your mother and still tolerated you. Shouldn’t you be grateful for that?

After 10 hours at home, your dad grew anxious. He always had a great gut feeling, and something felt off, so he needed to investigate this situation, making sure you were okay. You were his little girl, after all. Telling his wife a white lie, he went to the hospital where you worked.

The delivery station looked weird to him. Everyone was smiling brightly, as if there wasn’t any pain or war in the world. The midwives walked around in pink scrubs, and everywhere were damn cupcakes. It was the first time he visited you at work, and he felt guilty about how he reacted the day you told him you wanted to become a midwife. He should have been proud of you.

After looking around and not finding you, he asked one of the midwives, explaining that he was your dad and had returned from deployment. He got more confused when the midwife told him to sit down and your supervisor came out, taking him into her office.

"Look, your daughter was our best midwife apprentice, but she hasn’t been at work for the last three months without any notice," she explained.

"What do you mean three months? She loves her work," he said.

"We know that. If she ever gets out of her phase, she can come back to work. But for now, could you please gather her stuff from the locker?"

"Phase? What phase?"

"Her stepmom told us she had psychological issues, Mr. Price."

He never heard of it. Why didn’t his wife tell him before? He would have tried to be there for you. The midwife guided him to your locker, opening it for him so he could take your stuff out. His lips curved into a smile when he saw the pictures in the locker: one of your best friend and you at graduation (he missed it), a picture of you on your first day at work with pink scrubs, and a picture of him barely 20, holding you in his arms. You were so precious, such a little thing looking up to him. Dozens of pink scrubs, a calendar marked with vacation NYC and Taylor Swift concert. This didn’t look like a locker from someone who lost it.

--------------------

"Where is my daughter? Don’t bullshit me."

"I don’t know."

"Her boss said you told her she is mental."

"Well, she certainly is. She sleeps around with men your age."

"Do you know where the fuck she is or not? When was she last here?"

"Three months ago."

"Fuck it! My daughter is missing, and you only told me about it now?"

"She isn’t missing, John. She probably married some old fart and ran off."

"Shut the fuck up." He never screamed at his wife. His captain demeanor was always something he left at home, but you were missing, and no one told him. What if something happened? After three months, the traces were hard to find. "Fucking hell."

He walked away to the only place he could think you were. But when your best friend called him a deadbeat dad for only searching for his daughter after three months, he knew something must have happened to you.

---------------------------------

"Kate, please, anything will help."

"John, there is no trace of her. I'm sorry."

-----------------------

"We searched through every man she interacted with, Cap. She isn’t anywhere."

"She is there somewhere outside, Ghost."

----------------------------

"How many more innocent people will you kill, John? She is gone."

-----------------------------

"We should hold a wake for her."

"She is still alive, Kate."

"John, it’s been a year. You know the statistics."

"I won’t stop until I see her corpse."

--------------------------------

"Makarov will marry, holding a big public celebration and everything, invited us somehow."

"Why should I care if that bastard marries, Nick?"

------------------------

"We found your daughter, Captain."

"Where, Kyle?" He asked desperately. He never lost hope after searching for you for a whole year. He wasn’t the man he was before. He was rougher, he didn’t care about anything anymore. He divorced his wife, killed just to have you back.

"You won’t like it." Please don’t be dead. His eyes started to tear.

"Where?" He needed to take his little girl home, bury you properly, a thing he never thought he needed to do, bury his own daughter, but the world was cruel for people like him.

"Alive"Kyle placed some articles of a Russian gossip journal on his desk.

"'Princess of Russia'," John read aloud. "Vladimir Makarov's longtime love was seen shopping for her wedding dress suspiciously holding her belly. Already pregnant?"

"We can't wait for the wedding of the century," Kyle continued, pointing at the article. "From worker to billionaire spouse, she is living the Cinderella dream."

John's heart sank. He knew what this meant. His daughter, his little girl, was about to become a pawn in Makarov's twisted game. And he would do anything to stop it.

Tag list: @multifand0midi07 , @whos-fran , @cassiecasluciluce , @the-faceless-bride

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ghostiequill · 13 days

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Mihawk x Librarian Part 2

Since some people requested it (AHHH oh my gosh thank you for all the love <3) here's a part two :3

You’ve learned overtime how exceedingly romantic Dracule Mihawk can be

He would place his heart into your hands and do the embarrassing couple things without flinching. You want matching bright pink keychains? Sure, he’ll even buy them for you. You want to feed him in public? His eyes linger on you as he slowly takes the spoon in his mouth.

Mihawk made sure to show off in subtle ways, his dexterity in sword fighting transferred to gracefulness when he decided that right then was the perfect time to dance to the old record in your shop after hours. He would subtly show off his muscles when you helped restock large boxes of stock, knowing you secretly admired his strength

Just because he showed off doesn’t mean he couldn’t be a gentleman. Constantly opening doors for you or offering protection in the form of an arm ghosting on the small of your back when you were out wandering the town.

He would collect little knick knacks for you every time he came to visit. Something small but it warmed your heart to think you were on his mind so much that he thought of you when he saw these objects as you thought of him when you saw them in your shop

He would send you letters, completely unnecessary when he had your number but Mihawk was an old fashioned lover. They would always start with “To my (your name)” a sense of possessiveness, but they would always end with “yours, Dracule Mihawk”. They would be about his daily life, obviously avoiding the more violent parts, but would wax poetic about the serene view of the sea or the bustling islands he visited that he would wish for you to be there with him

That didn’t mean he didn’t love teasing you as well

Moments where he would touch your back were met with your face turning to fire, he would notice and you could barely make out a smirk. Every time his touch would linger when he would hand you something he would insist to get for you or when he would compliment your abilities, whether it be bookkeeping or a particular idea he hadn't thought about before in a book just to see you stutter and smile

You loved to talk books with him. He was shockingly insightful to the depth of the shitty romance novels that only he and you seemed to see. You would both talk for hours about the deep connection between characters and the subtle exchanges between them that would make you go insane. It reminded you of someone else in real life.

“So, did you finally finish that book I recommended? You’ve only had it for forever” you whined to him

“Oh yes sorry, I was too busy actually doing my job unlike those who just read at theirs” you could almost see his amused face on the other line

You met with his ward when he would bring you to his castle for an at home dinner date. Perona would always try to steal you away to dress you up or gossip but Mihawk was always there to make sure you weren’t overwhelmed. With just a glance in his direction your eyes could communicate what you felt

The best part of being at his castle was when after supper he would gently grasp your hand and lead you into the forest. The gentle sounds of owls hooting and crickets chirping serenaded your walk to the clearing he always brought you to to gaze at the stars. Laying down a blanket and guiding your hand to lay down, he would point out the constellations and their stories to you, waxing poetic about stories of lovers who couldn’t bear to be apart, forever entwined in the embrace of the sky. You couldn’t help but imagine what that all consuming love would feel like

Mihawk was not one to give his heart lightly, which is why you felt so special to be in this moment with him. It was during one of these moments where you were both sitting up, gazing at the universe laid out before you when you turned towards Mihawk. He was already looking at you. With your previous partners you’ve never seen such softness and devotion, but with him-he made you feel like you were floating amongst the stars, the air sucked from your lungs as the background disappeared from your view.

He glanced down at your lips before slowly bringing a calloused hand to your jaw, a hand that could bring such destruction and death but was always so careful around you. You couldn't help but lean into its warmth.

His thumb brushed over your bottom lip. “May I?” he whispered, his voice barely audible against the drumming of your own heart. You somehow managed to gain back control of your body as you nodded furiously, before you could mentally curse yourself for looking so eager, as his lips meet yours. You feel a spark of electricity as your lips connect. It was like lightning had struck you. All powerful and all consuming. Your eyes widen before they close as you lean in closer, trying to meld your bodies into one.

His lips brush your forehead before he pulls away, his touch confident but gentle as he holds both your jaw and your heart in his hands. Beneath the canopy of the stars, he envelops you in his arms and it feels like every thought, every worry disappeared as long as you were with him

#one piece #dracule mihawk #dracule mihawk x reader #mihawk x reader #one piece x reader #one piece fanfiction #mihawk x y/n #mihawk x you #one piece x you #op x reader #opla x reader #opla mihawk

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peanutbutterand · 27 days

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i miss you, i'm sorry; lmh

in which alcohol and a broken heart prompts you to make a phone call to your ex.

~ Angst with a capital A.

wc: 1.6K

Reference(s): “I miss you, I’m sorry” written by Grace Abrahams and a line from Notting Hill directed by Roger Michell

“I miss you”

The flashing lights seemed to somehow mute the chaotic noise around you. Head hurting, mind overwhelmed, and still, your fingers unconsciously danced across the screen of your phone, typing a number you had deleted months ago.

Some things don’t stay the way they're supposed to. Out of sight, out of mind right? Funny how all logic and rational thinking is suddenly muddled by the denial of a broken heart.

“y/n.”

If it weren’t for the alcohol in your system, you’d cry at the sound of his voice. Instead, the concern in his tone forced a bittersweet smile to form on your face.

He shouldn’t be worried, he shouldn’t have even answered. But he did. And you hated that you knew he would. Because even in your drunken state, it was so natural for you to go back to him.

“You promised.”

You felt pathetic. Clinging onto his promises of forever, even when you fought his declarations towards the end of your relationship. The need to be right overpowering the need to be loved.

It was careless, taking everything you loved and disputing it with cruel words driven by a fixed mindset. And he did the same. Hurt people hurt people, because no one wants to be hurting alone.

You did your best to move on. You really did. It was easy at first, fueled by anger and pinpointing all the blame of your failing relationship on him was something you did with your head held high.

And then all of a sudden, your pride became too hard to swallow and all the hate you spewed ricocheted in the forms of longing and regret.

You often found yourself reminiscing about fights in his apartment and the disappointment that came with broken dishes, just to get a glimpse of him.

Because he was always readily available in your mind, whether it be in the form of heartbreak or not. And the extent to which you would willingly fall back into these moments only resulted in any progress of moving on to slip through your fingers.

“y/n, where are you?”

How do you move on from someone who is so deeply engraved into your mind, someone who has touched every part of you with sweet kisses and gentle hands, someone who starts your thoughts and always ends them.

For these reasons, your doubts and hesitations were not baseless. Because how do you move on from someone you once promised forever to? It almost seems wrong to do so.

“I don’t know what to do Minho. Everywhere I go leads me back to you. Everything I know brings me back to us.”

There was so much to say, so much you wanted to tell him. It was desperate and embarrassing, but others might say you were simply in love; that you were just a girl, talking to a boy, asking him to love her.

“Y/n, please….go home.”

“I can’t.”

“Y/n–”

“Every corner of that fucking house is haunted Minho.”

It was suffocating. Home was no longer home but a place filled with traces of his presence. Bittersweet reminders of the life that once flourished remained in every room.

His coffee cup in the cupboard, his hoodie tucked away in your drawer, the silly love notes he left embedded into your books, his morning kisses, his laughter, his smile, him.

He was everywhere and nowhere at the same time. Even in his absence, he was consuming you. So no, you wouldn’t go home, you couldn’t. Because the definition between home and Minho seemed to blur overtime.

“I don’t know what to do anymore."

The drunken daze was now fading away, your clouded mind becoming overwhelmed with the sober emotions that flowed through your body, because they were one in the same when you were drunk, just easier to handle in a state of intoxication.

“I thought you hated me.”

Such a statement was not meant to be laced with the gentleness he evoked, so much so, a certain heaviness clung to your chest. For the reminder of the three words you spewed at him the last time you spoke will forever bring feelings of angst and regret.

“Minho…”

Some things are better left unsaid. Until the time comes when those things are all you can think about, clouding your judgement and cultivating a narrative of missed opportunities guided by the words “what if”.

You had many. And they creeped up on you, leaving you lost in your thoughts of love that you’ll never be able to live, at least, not with him.

But not was not the time to wallow in your self pity and despair. Not after all the time you had dedicated to pondering over the “what ifs” and certainly not when the person these “what ifs” revolved around was here, listening to you.

“I was angry and upset and desperate to hurt you. I don’t hate you—I never could. I’m sorry.”

The slow sigh that ran after your words displayed your relief more than you intended. Thinking back to the last time you spoke to him was routine for you.

But this time, instead of being tormented by the hurt laced in the memory of that night, you were now comforted by the fact that your truth was now something he knew.

And you weren’t going to deprive yourself of his, no matter how much it may break you. You were in too deep to consider that now.

“Do I still make you sick to your stomach?”

It was his turn to let out an audible sigh. And it seems as though you weren’t the only one reminiscing back to that night; for his response appeared to be nurtured with time and consideration.

“No y/n, you never did. You never will. I didn't mean that. I wish I had ever said those words to you, but I did. I’m sorry.”

It’s one thing to say something. It’s another to mean it. And it felt nice to hear he didn’t. You knew he could never have meant it, but the assurance you experienced upon his confession pulled apart the remaining angst embedded in your memories. You could only hope he felt the same.

It was cold outside. Somehow, your feet carried you out of the stuffy place, the moon illuminating the still street, a complete contradiction to your surroundings a few seconds ago.

The silence seemed to emphasize your acknowledgement of everything that had happened and was happening. The phone pressed to your ear. The quick beating in your chest. The familiarity of the slow breaths he took as you listened. Your boldness. His patience.

“I’m sorry I called. I know we said we weren’t talking—”

“I miss you too.”

You almost didn’t catch it. His voice low and quiet, almost as if the statement was a passing thought that had slipped past his tongue. But you caught it, as did your denial, that after all this time, he too missed what once was.

A part of you wished your ears had been deaf to his words. Because the way your hand fell to your chest, the way it felt as though your heart had paused, the way tears immediately lined your waterline, was the same way you recognized exactly how much you missed him.

One step forward and three steps back is the damage his words did. But you started it first, and it was only fair to finish what you started.

An absent smile lined your lips with tears falling down your face. Your tears were warm against your cold skin and you so badly wanted the warmth to stay.

“Everything we were scared of happening, happened Minho.”

“Nothing happened in the way we wanted Y/n.”

Your absent smile turned bittersweet, fingers gently grazing your cheek in an attempt to catch the warmth from your eyes. You were right. And he was too. They say that nothing that is meant for you will ever get away, so why did he?

“Is this better for us y/n?”

It’s hard to make peace with something you don't entirely agree with. He hurt you more than anyone else has. But he loved you better than anyone ever did.

“I don't know. I’m still confused.”

Your eyes shut, squeezing what was left of your tears out.

“I do know that I was really happy with you, we were happy together. And we were really good to each other.”

You went into this conversation with hope and uncertainty. It was only normal for that hope and uncertainty to cultivate into doubts and hesitation. He didn’t deserve that. And you didn’t want to make things worse than they already were. Not now. Not ever.

“But….”

“But we’ve been here before. And I want to love you because I love you, not because I need you— I missed you Minho…..I miss you. I’m sorry.”

And in an instant, no sound came from his phone. Your voice, gone, as if it were never there.

Gone before he could familiarize himself with the highs and lows of your tone. Gone before he could tell you to not cry, for he recognized the tell tale signs that you were. Gone before he could say everything he wanted to say and more.

And perhaps that's why he continued to hold the phone to his ear, head falling to the back of his couch as he allowed the words he meant to say to you, the second your name appeared on his phone, break free from his lips.

Barely a mumble, but with his whole heart and all his truth.

“I still love you, I promise.”

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jaegeraether · 4 months

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Sunsets and footballers (Part 51)

Jordan Nobbs x Leah Williamson (8)

Masterlist (other parts here)

Jordan wasn’t in the starting line-up, just as she’d expected. She was however, subbed on at half time which she hadn’t. She’d expected to be subbed on much later than that. The game against West Ham was tough, and she felt her lungs burning as she covered more ground that she had all season. As the sub, she knew she was fresher than the starting players and so she pushed herself further and chased the ball around the field, though she felt she was barely making an impact and became increasingly frustrated which led to her shouting and throwing her arms up. After all this time, she still didn’t understand why she became so frustrated and angry on the field; perhaps it was because she’d blame herself when things didn’t go right. The thoughts of being dropped from the England squad and leaving Arsenal without Jonas even bothering to fight for her also weighed on her mind when it came to decision making, especially the split-second ones on the field.

She’d expected herself to have a fun, calm game after spending the night before with YFN at Lucy’s apartment in London. They ordered some health-ish take-out because Lucy’s London apartment obviously didn’t have any fresh food of course and had fun at home with Blu, entertaining him and talking all things from Kyra’s little date with Courtney to where they’d be spending Christmas.

‘You should be happy!’ she almost yelled at herself as she threw her arms up in frustration at the player who’d tripped her teammate.

She looked for YFN on the side-line, her eyes wandering over the numerous purple and yellow hoodies and beanies until she found her already watching her instead of the argument between the player and the ref. She looked freezing cold, her nose red and her arms around herself but when they caught eyes, she gave her a supportive dimply smirk and thumbs up. Jordan couldn’t help but smile back. YFN placed her hand on her chest and gave an obvious deep breath in and out; a sign for Jordan to do the same which she did. Much better. She mouthed a ‘thank you’ to the Australian and turned her attention back to the game. The rest of the game was more chaotic as it went. Five minutes of overtime were added and they were drawn 2-2. In the 91st minute, she had the perfect view behind Rachel Daly to see her volley a ball from a header straight into the net. 3-2. Jordan ran to her excited and grabbed her in a hug, along with the rest of the team.

That eased some tension only temporarily though because the West Ham players were not giving up. They fought back more aggressively than they had all game, and as it was their home game in front of their screaming fans who urged them on. Jordan’s frustration built back up to the 95th minute where she was wiping the sweat from her brow and her lungs were on fire. Her teammate Alisha Lehmann fouled a player in front of her and Jordan ran over to grab the ball, just hoping to drag the time out. One of the West Ham players grabbed at the ball and shoved her until the ref held up their yellow card. She dropped the ball and tried to explain but knew she was in the wrong. She was just trying to give her teammates some extra breathing time to keep defending before the final whistle blew and if she was completely honest, the West Ham player had been an annoyance all game.

They started again and West Ham managed to score a corner, and even their Captain and goalkeeper Mackenzie Arnold came down for it. They were into the 96th minute with no whistle blown. The ball went up and for a single panicked moment, she thought there was a goal but Daphne van Domselaar, her goalkeeper teammate, managed to stop it on the line. There was one final shot from outside the box but that missed also. The final whistle blew and she let out a sigh of relief. They’d won!

She shook hands with everyone and grabbed the first water bottle she could find, along with a jacket. It was so cold she’d been wearing gloves for the game. When she was done with the team requirements, she ran over to YFN who caught her in a big, warm hug.

“Great game, Dory! You must be tired, yeah?”

“Dying!” she groaned.

“You played fifty-one minutes and it was high, high intensity. Jeez, I’d love to see how much ground you covered.”

She hadn’t known she’d played so long. “I feel like I’ve run a marathon. I need a shower and bed.”

She laughed. “You’ll have that soon enough… before your date that is.”

She groaned again. She was so tired she couldn’t even comprehend trying to navigate the awkwardness of whatever would happen with Leah in a few hours. She was tempted to cancel but YFN gave her a look and she knew she was right.

Jordan and Rachel Daly did a Lumos interview with Mackenzie Arnold and Risa Shimizu from West Ham with YFN asking questions. Jordan loved seeing YFN at work and it was so cold that she was cuddled up to her. The interview didn’t last too long, just enough to get a few laughs and good content before they said their goodbyes. Before they went, YFN gathered some information about the players in regards to interviews, what they’d want to talk about more or less etc, and asked general opinions of some of the ideas she had floating around like interviews outside of stadiums doing different things. Jordan loved the puppy interview suggestion best and YFN didn’t look surprised as she put her down for that.

“The debrief should be quick and then I’ll get changed and meet you at the car,” she said to the Australian after they’d finished.

She looked at her watch. “We’re still on time if we leave in 15. I need to talk to my group anyways. I’ll see you outside!”

After battling the traffic, Jordan managed to drop her off just in time. It’s lucky they’d done most of their speaking about Leah in the car as when they arrived it was just a jump out and run situation for YFN. Once her little suitcase and backpack were out of the car, she jumped back in the car and leant over to wrap Jordan in a tight hug.

“I love you, Dory. Please go at your own pace and communicate, okay? Let her know what you need. She’ll listen.”

Jordan nodded against her. “Stay safe in Barca and give Ridley a happy birthday for me.”

“Will do! Oh and here…” she removed the red house key from her keychain and gave it to Jordan. “Lucy’s house key. I’ll grab it when I get back.”

“I’ll try not to lose it,” she joked.

“With Lucy stalkers around? You’d better not!”

Jordan watched her walking away dragging her suitcase and smiled. She’d be with Lucy soon.

She drove to the apartment where she found a half-asleep Blu who must have been napping. Jordan gave him some love and attention and apologised for being gone. She took a shower and got changed into just a simple outfit; pants, shirt and a hoody, though she hesitated over how she looked. She found herself staring in the mirror, wondering if she should change or do her hair down rather than up. Eventually she became so annoyed with herself that she just gave up. She checked the Arsenal score so she’d know what mood to expect from Leah and saw that they’d won 3-0 against Brighton. Yep, she’d be happy. She loaded her luggage into the car before heading back inside for her most important item.

“Come on Blu, let’s go.” She picked the little guy up and took him outside, holding him close to keep him warm from the cold UK weather. She double checked that she locked the apartment properly before heading to the car and keeping the key safe there. There’s no way she was going to risk the crazies, especially with that YFN and Lucy had been through already.

The drive to Leah’s wasn’t far and even driving slower, it went quicker than usual because she was so nervous. She was still a little worked up about her game, let alone the idea of spending time with Leah.

She pulled up outside her apartment and gripped the steering wheel. Why was she doing this? Why was she going back to the person who’d caused her so much pain? They were so different in so many ways, which had to be expected as Leah was five years younger than her. Although she was mature for her age, and Jordan debatably less mature, they did have an incredible amount of similarities also. She thought back to the night before last and the feeling of Leah’s arms around her. Her smell, her feel, her warmth. Her words from the award night.

“I love you,” Leah said from the doorstep, her bag slung over her shoulder. “I made a decision without involving you. I thought I was protecting you, but I took your choice away. I never stopped and will never stop loving you. I can’t change the past, but I can tell you here and now that I’ll give you everything, all of me, and I’ll never make a decision without you again. I’ve lost a year with you, and I can’t stand to lose another second. If you take me back and realise you can’t trust me….then I’ll bear that burden of pain and I need you to know that I’d never beg you to stay just for my feelings. I’d hold the door open and offer you everything I had, because you deserve everything, Jord. Just…think on it.”

Jordan felt a tear roll down her cheek as she remembered that.

“You’re my person. I love you, Jord.”

Blue yapped from next to her which got her attention and she wiped the tear from her cheek and reached over to pat him.

“Sorry Blu, I’m just a little overwhelmed. Are you ready to see Leah for the first time in a year? She’s still the same…I mean she is in the best ways.” She put her hand out which he nuzzled and she picked him up. “Up you come my boy, let’s go see if she’s learnt how to cook, hm?”

Jordan rang the front door bell and waited, Blu cuddled in her arms and getting a little heavy. She heard a crashing sound and the patter of feet before the door was opened to reveal an overwhelmed looking Leah. As soon as she saw Jordan, she gave that smile of hers. Not her public smile, but her genuine one. The one that reached her eyes and crinkled at the corners of them.

Leah opened her mouth and hesitated before closing it and giving a little wave. Her eyes fell down to Blu and she reached out half-way, as if to ask, before Jordan nodded and stepped forward to hand him over. It was an awkward exchange of body parts, moving a dog from chest to chest but it was well worth his excited yaps and licking of her chin. They stepped inside and when she let Blu go, he was straight into exploring the place he hadn’t been in over a year. His legs were short though, so that took a while. Leah looked at her and hesitated again as if waiting for something. She gave up quickly and gestured to the living room where she led the way. Only when she turned did Jordan realised she’d probably been waiting for a hug. They walking into the living area which was overlooked by the kitchen and it looked like chaos. Like Leah was cooking for a whole family. She had a large amount of food and was overwhelmed with the amount she had to do, it seemed. Jordan couldn’t help but chuckle at that as Leah gestured her into a kitchen counter seat and put a drink in front of her. Jordan noticed a little whiteboard that was on the kitchen counter and Leah wrote on it, holding it up.

‘Sorry dinner isn’t ready – girls stopped by and wouldn’t leave.’

“That’s okay,” Jordan shrugged. “What’s for dinner?”

Leah rubbed her writing off and changed it. ‘Roast.’

Jordan nodded, impressed, before she looked around again and saw the mess. That’s when she noticed that the music playing was some of Jordan’s favourites. Her throwbacks and the songs she’d had on repeat for weeks.

“Leah… you can change back to your music if you want, it’s okay.”

Leah shook her head.

Jordan sighed. “At least let’s go half-half?”

She thought for a second before she nodded slowly in agreement and took her phone to alter the music to half country and half Jordan’s favourites before Leah got back to work.

Jordan’s phone buzzed and she looked down at it.

Katie: Hey chicken, give us a text when you’re almost here. We’ll be awake until midnight. Have fun x

Jordan: Will do, not sure how long I’ll be. Putting my phone away now x

Jordan always thought it was rude to have a phone out when you were with guests or… whatever this was. She looked back up and saw Leah with her head in her hands, her elbows on the counter as she read from a book. She was reading instructions? She looked stressed. Still reading, she pushed herself back upright and grabbed the knife, starting to cut the potatoes when she gasped and dropped the knife, grabbing at her finger. Jordan was up immediately and at her side.

“Here…come here,” she said as she took her wrist and put her finger under the tap. She examined it and was happy that it didn’t look deep, just a nick. She found Leah’s first aid kid and when she realised automatically she’d done just that, she turned to see Leah looking at her with so much emotion she could barely contain her tears. Of course, Jordan knew where her first aid kit was. And of course, she’d jumped up immediately to help her. Jordan was always worrying about other people. She returned with the kit and plastered her finger up gently, both women relishing the soft touches they shared.

“How about I help you cook, yes?”

Leah thought about it, obviously not wanting to admit she needed help. She took the marker and wrote on the whiteboard again. ‘I’m sorry.’

“Don’t be, we’ve both had busy days. Let’s see if we can work this out together, hm?”

Jordan helped Leah to make dinner. They moved silently and seamlessly together in the kitchen, Jordan saying instructions out loud from the book as she was also not great at cooking. There would be times where they’d run into each other or brush up against each other, and she couldn’t say she didn’t like it.

They finished making dinner and plated up, Leah also putting food out for Blu before they sat down to eat across the table from each other. Jordan had thought it would be strange with Leah not speaking but it was surprisingly relaxing not just for her, but she could tell it was for Leah also. There were no expectations, no worries about arguments or pain through words, they were just together and enjoying each other’s company. Both worked symbiotically as if no time had passed and from the little looks Jordan accidentally made of her apartment, it seemed very much the same as it had done a year ago. The same smell, same aura, same furniture, even the same country music. It was… nice. Really nice.

They finished dinner which was surprisingly edible and washed up, packing the leftovers away in Leah’s fridge. Jordan turned to the whiteboard again.

‘Movie?’

“Okay.”

She settled onto the couch and Leah joined shortly, bringing what seemed to be a new circular dog bed with her. She put it down on the carpet in front of them and Blu made himself at home, spinning a few times on the spot before he laid down. Leah gave a happy grin at the sight of that and sat down close to Jordan. The couch was large, but now they were so close they were almost touching. Jordan felt giddy at the thought that Leah had gone out to buy a bed just so he’d have something to fall asleep in. But it wasn’t only that. It was the dog food she’d bought. And the music she was playing. And the fact that she’d attempted to make a roast dinner when she couldn’t cook at all. Leah was trying.

The movie started and the title popped up on screen; The Lord of the Rings. Jordan scoffed at the audacity.

“Did you pick this just because it’s three hours long?!” she asked accusingly.

Leah gave a sheepish grin and tilted her head to see it Jordan was actually mad. She wasn’t. She was enjoying their night. For some reason, just being near Leah calmed her. It stopped her negative thoughts and overthinking and just simplified everything for her.

They were half an hour in when Leah wrote on her whiteboard again.

‘I bought cake for dessert. You had a hard game, I thought you’d might want some?’

If anything was a way to Jordan’s heart, it was cake. She loved cake more than any other human. She nodded excitedly and Leah smiled, victorious. They both got up to stretch and wandered to the kitchen, Blu following his mums. Leah opened the fridge and paused as if she were malfunctioning. She started shifting items around and eventually closed the door frustratedly and grabbed her phone. She read a message and shook her head before telling Jordan.

‘Kyra stole the cake when they stopped by after the game… I’m sorry. I’ll go get some from the shops around the corner.’

“No, you don’t have to do tha-” Jordan started to say, only to be cut off by Leah’s whiteboard.

‘Yes I do. I’ll be back soon.’

“At least let me come with you? It’s cold and dark and Blu needs a walk today…”

They strode in happy silence, all clothed up and Jordan wearing one of Leah’s beanies she’d offered her. She let Leah hold Blu’s lead while they went on the walk that they’d done so often before. The night air was cold but it didn’t stop Jordan from feeling the warming presence of the woman next to her. She wondered if their little knuckle and shoulder grazes were on purpose or not and decided she didn’t care. She liked it.

They reached the store and Jordan stood outside with Blu while Leah ducked inside for the cake Jordan felt she so deserved after her game. As she was standing outside holding Blu in her arms to keep the little short hair from freezing, she was approached by a few people she recognised as media for women’s football, but not the good kind…the vultures.

She had a few microphones put in her face and the brightness of the video camera blinded her so she had to step back.

“Jordan Nobbs! How do you feel after your win against West Ham?”

She put her hand up. “No interviews, please.”

They tried to ask her more things, and each time she told them to just leave her alone but they were insistent. “Another thing, is it true that you and Leah Williamson are dating again?”

“What?”

“Come on, you can tell us!”

“She said to leave her alone!” Leah snapped and stepped in front of Jordan and Blu. Leah was usually the polite, well-mannered Captain in front of media. She wasn’t right now, and the sound of her voice sparked something in Jordan.

“Just a few questions Leah, sorry we didn’t realise you were here.”

“I know you better than that, Stanley, and I need to say that I’m very disappointed in all three of you for approaching her when I specifically asked you not to! You know what that means…”

She’d asked them to not approach her? Leah was still protecting her and she didn’t even realise how much.

“It was just a few questions, Leah. No harm.”

“This is disgusting, disgusting behaviour. I expected more from all of you. As promised, from now on, all of the media I do will be through Lumos. Please tell your boss.”

They started to argue when Leah put her arm around the pair and walked them away, her hand rubbing Jordan’s shoulder as they walked. When they were far enough away, she dropped her hand and gave her space back. Jordan didn’t say anything, but she missed her touch as soon as it was gone.

Soon enough they were settled back into the couch with their cake and Jordan ate excitedly, groaning at the first bite.

“Oh god that hits the spot. Thanks, Lea.”

Leah’s eyes softened and she looked back at her plate with a little smile. Her phone buzzed and she looked at it.

YFN: Why am I getting second-hand news that you’re only going to be using Lumos for media from now on? Is everything okay?

Leah: I asked the reporters to not approach Jordan outside of football and they did. Fair punishment for them, I reckon.

YFN: So it’s true?”

Leah: Yeah if that’s okay?

YFN: Mate, perfectly fine with me. Everything okay with this little interaction?

Leah: Everything’s fine – I sorted them. Jordan’s okay, she has cake.

YFN: Ah, yes she’s fine then *laughing emoji* I’ll leave you to it. We’ll chat about this later. x

Jordan looked curious and so Leah showed her the few messages they’d exchanged.

“You’re serious about that?”

Leah nodded.

The movie continued and Blu went back to sleep. Leah and Jordan were so close that it was almost impossible to focus on anything else. Something loud and violent happened in the movie and Jordan couldn’t help but jump and grab onto Leah, putting her head behind her shoulder.

“Oh no, no, no…tell me when that part’s over please.”

Leah chuckled and let her arm be grabbed by her ex. When the scary part was over, she tapped her gently and Jordan looked at the TV again, but she didn’t let Leah’s arm go. She dragged it over further and hugged herself around it with both arms, her head finding Leah’s shoulder.

Jordan felt Leah let out a bigger sigh than usual and without lifting her head she asked. “What’s wrong, Lea?”

Leah took her whiteboard with her spare hand and put it on her lap to write when Jordan’s hand touched hers softly. Leah paused and let Jordan gently take the whiteboard off of her lap and slide it back where it was. Hint taken.

“I just wanted everything tonight to be perfect.”

“It is perfect,” she murmured, and she wasn’t lying. “We cooked together, cleaned together, went for a walk with Blu and had dessert. And now we’re watching a movie together. How could it not be perfect?”

She felt the tension in Leah’s body leave as she softened and Jordan readjusted her grip on her arm and her head on her shoulder. She felt Leah’s head lean against the top of hers as they continued to watch the movie in silence.

It wasn’t long before Jordan was yawning and they were nowhere near the end of the film. Leah paused it.

Jordan lifted her head in question.

“That’s your third yawn, Jord.”

“So?”

“So that means your next will be your last before you’re asleep. And you know you’re more than welcome to stay here tonight but I have the feeling you’re going to want to go…”

Jordan hesitated as she thought before she nodded. “I need to go.”

Leah nodded also, as if she already knew. “Back to Lucy’s?”

“To Katie and Caitlin’s actually.”

“Oh… I didn’t know.”

Jordan was surprised at that. She thought they would have mentioned it at the game but obviously they’d respected Jordan’s privacy.

“It’s just for the night so I’m not alone.”

Leah gave a melancholy smile. “I know how that feels.”

There was a pause then. Jordan broke it by leaning over and putting her forehead on her shoulder in an unspoken word. She rested it there for a little before she released her and stood.

Blu was hard to wake, and Jordan felt bad that she was waking him for yet another trip. Leah took a few leftovers and cake and wrapped them up, putting them in a bag for Jordan to take to Katie and Caitlin. She helped her load them and Blu in the car while Jordan texted Katie that she was on her way.

They were stood in the doorway, Leah looking like she didn’t want her to go. She didn’t blame her. Her whole body was telling her to stay. It was only her fear of pain that was driving her to go, and it sure was strong.

She wrapped her arms around Leah who did so in kind; the two holding each other close for a while. Leah was so warm and soft and she just felt safe.

After a while Jordan spoke. “Thank you for tonight, it was perfect. I know Blu missed you a lot too.”

“It was really good to see him, and you,” Leah murmured huskily.

“Can I…” Jordan trailed off and Leah’s arms tightened.

“You’d like to pencil in another hug?”

“Yes please,” she whispered. YFN was right. Hugs were healing. She knew that because right here and now in Leah’s arms, she was happy.

“Whenever you want, just let me know.”

Leah watched from the driveway as Jordan backed out and drove off. They’d only been together three hours but it had lifted both of their moods to a level of happiness they hadn’t felt in a while. Jordan gave her a little wave as she drove off.

It was just clicking over to 10pm when Jordan arrived at Katie and Caitlin’s. She grabbed her overnight back pack and Blu and knocked on the door. Caitlin opened it with wild eyes.

“Did you see the messages?!”

“What?”

She dragged her inside and Jordan barely managed to put Blu down before she was being pulled into the kitchen.

“Did you see?!” Katie almost yelled, worried.

“See what?”

“Lucy’s messages!” They said in unison.

She frowned and looked at her phone that had been in her pocket on silent. She read the messages from Lucy and gasped out loud.

Oh no… YFN! What the fuck?

#woso #womens football #woso community #woso fanfics #woso imagine #woso soccer #engwnt #jordan nobbs #lionesses #lucy bronze #woso x reader #lucy bronze x reader #lucy bronze imagine #aston villa women #arsenal women #leah williamson

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princessbunnib · 1 year

Text

König |Masturbation Headcannons|

NSFW Under The Cut

Author's Note:

These are very random because I just typed as things came to mind.

On my period which means I'm basically in heat. Here's some filthy König Headcannons.🤤

More König Smut coming. Been taking a break from COD so I can write for a different fandom. Also been taking a break in general. I'll post full smut fics again just wait patiently please. I love all of you♡

Where Does He Do it?

König masturbates at home considering that's always conveniently where he is when an erection accures.

How Does He Do It?

König doesn't have much toys that are for him only. He also isn't the one who goes to the sex store and gets them. You gifted him a fleshlight because you thought it would be extremely hot to know that he uses it.

He hasn't used it much but when he's really riled up- he'll use it and imagine he's fucking you while watching the lewd videos and pictures you've sent to him overtime. He had to buy many phones because he always ruins them by getting carried away when masturbating and accidently finish on them.

Either he come inside the toy for however many loads he can produce, or it's on his phone.

When Does He Do it?

König will masturbate whenever he has an erection like one does. Or other times when he finds himself missing you, he'll masturbate to remember your face until you come home. Although this has a downside, you usually come home to him needing the real thing rather than using a flashlight or his hands. Needless to say, whatever outfit you're wearing will be ripped off of you so he can fuck you.

How Does He Feel About Masturbation?

König doesn't have any negative opinions about this at all. If he needs to come but can't do it the way he usually does it, he will masturbate. He gets tense a lot and chews gum to sooth his nerves. But when he doesn't have any gum the next best thing is to come in order to control himself.

He doesn't tell you about his solo sessions. For all you know, he doesn't do it at all. Since he only does this when you're not home and is very discreet about it, you have no clue.

How Loud Is He?

For the most part König is quiet because his biggest fear is you coming home and seeing him in such a vulnerable state. But when he's on the verge of coming he will say any and everything remotely sexual that he can think of. Rather if it's him talking to himself or talking as if you're the one who's making him come.

"Fuck~ I need to remember how tight you are around my cock- I Miss Youu~ Come home to me already..."

"I'm gonna come- I'm gonna come- I'm so fucking desperate to come, please let me come~"

"Mommy~ mommy please- haah~♡ I'll be good- let me come... ughh fuck..."

"My fucking cock is burning- Coming... coming... coming... c-c-com-coming..."

Stamina

König's rest time is very short. When he's with you he'll do as many rounds as you'll allow him to. When he's alone, it's the same thing. He won't finish until the bottle of lube he's using Is atleast half empty. Or if he runs out of things to clean up his messes with.

Take A Load Off

He can come a lot. Because of his line of work he has to keep a balanced diet to maintain his physical strength. Daily workouts and a lot of healthy home-cooked meals he prepared himself.

Not only his body is healthy. His balls are too. He can produce a lot of come, therefore his creampies are no joke. When he plans on forcing himself to come a lot he'll use his flashlight to lessen the mess. Although it's a bit tedious to clean up the tog after. Not only he is big, his balls are too. They aren't just for show either. They're big for a reason.

His healthy liifestyle makes him have a higher sperm count. Which means that If you weren't on birth control, you would have definitely had a lot of his babies by now.

Take Me To Kinky Town

König has a lot of kinks already. There's some that you still don't know about unfortunately. He's only told you the ones he didn't think would make you think negatively about him.

Even though König can seem to be emotinaly fragile when it comes to your relationship with him, he degrades himself when he's masturbating.

Part of him reels guilty for coming without you. Why creampie a sex toy when he can give it to someone who will actually enjoy it.

The only time he thinks he deserves Praising is of you're the one doing it. He knows he has a praise kink but is too shy to admit it to you. You always like to make a fool out of him by asking him to do a simple task for you when you clearly are able to do it yourself.

He's always looking to be useful for you so he'll do it no matter how easy it may seem. Telling him he's a 'good boy' or just outright saying he's doing an amazing job will give him an erection in an instant.

He'll have to get away from you and take care of this 'personal problem' so you don't get any ideas and use this praise to your advantage just to get your way. If you tire him out with sex or any form of ejaculation, he'll be like putty in your hands for atleast two days.

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misshoneyimhome · 4 months

Note

William would be the type to call the intern his good girl while he rails her in front of a bathroom mirror at a team event. He is not even covering her mouth or putting his fingers between her lips to keep her quiet because he wants people to know how good he fucks you based on how some of the comments from his teammates were made before they got together officially. Even though it would be hot for him to her to suck on his fingers.

Happy Willy-finally-signing-the-contract day! 🥂🥳

Okay, so I know this has been on a waiting list for a little while, but I had to have it make sense for me - sorry 🙈 But it's finally here, and I just hope that it's turned out to be as good as expected 🤞🏻🤍

Also, this was paired with another ask 💙

[And thank you so much for the 2️⃣0️⃣0️⃣ followers 🙏🏼]

Anyways;

Warnings; actually only unprotected sex (p in v) - I'm losing my touch here; and of course public spacing;

Word count; 4.4K

・✶ ｡ﾟ

I feel your love, and I feel it burn pt || I William Nylander🖋️⚡️ [intern x willy]

After 3 minutes and 56 seconds.

That's when Gaudreau managed to score with a backhand shot, guiding the puck into the net and securing the overtime win for the Blue Jackets. Which also meant another loss for the Leafs.

Tonight, the game had been really intense, and on the positive note, most players felt they'd given their all. But despite this, the players still made their way to the tour bus with heads down, and there wasn't much conversation, just a few encouraging words from Coach Keefe in the locker room following the match. And during the bus ride, all the lads had their headphones in, enjoying the comfort of silence.

But as they arrived at the plane, the tense atmosphere started to fade away, and soft cheers filled the aircraft as players began chatting about the upcoming New Year's event. Only a game against the Hurricanes was scheduled for the next day, but the talk still shifted to the festivities for the New Year's party.

And you couldn't help but smile as you listened to the lads' excitement about the event, which you and a few others from the team had organised. You’d gone all out with decorations, making the most of your event planning skills, creating an amazing atmosphere for the team to enjoy, along with their partners and families, to welcome the new year. And the menu was carefully chosen after coordinating with the venue's hosts to ensure everything would be perfect.

It made you even happier to hear how excited the players were, discussing the outfits their partners had planned for them and their hairdresser appointments, among other things.

However, your relaxed state of mind was suddenly interrupted by Auston and Mitch, who came to occupy the empty seats in front of you. After the match, feeling rather tired, you sought some quiet space a few feet away from the noisy players. But that didn't suit the two forwards. Instead, they needed your full attention.

"Hey, Twiddly dee and Tweedle dum, what's up?" you chuckled lightly as the two lads stared intensely at you, sporting mischievous smiles on their handsome faces.

"Well," Auston chuckled, "We were just thinking..."

"Oh, watch out there, Auston, we don’t want you to get a sudden headache," you teased, earning an eye roll from the man in front of you. "What were you thinking?"

"Well, since your date with Jared didn't quite pan out," Mitch chimed in with a soft smile, "We were just wondering who you'd bring as your date for the New Year's team event?"

His question caught you off guard. Not because it was an unusual question coming from the two boys, but simply because you hadn't given it any thought. You were supposed to bring a date?

Well, of course, you were. The whole event allowed plus ones, and you should have known that, considering you were part of the planning team.

But you didn't want to bring a date. You couldn't. Because the guy you were dating would already be there. William Nylander, the Swedish player wearing number 88.

However, the team didn't know that. At least, you didn't think so. Your relationship with William was meant to be a secret. Yet, a small part of you feared that perhaps some of the players already knew or had an inkling. You and William had never been entirely subtle about your friendship right from the start, since you'd always been close and engaged in playful banter. But now that you were romantically involved, you knew you had to tone it down a bit.

And as much as you wanted to spill the beans that William was your secret date for the event, you instead flashed them a bright smile and feigned a light laugh.

"Who said I was planning on bringing anyone?" you tried to sound as casual as possible.

"Wait, so you're not bringing anyone?" Mitch asked, looking slightly surprised.

And you simply shook your head with a warm smile. "Nah... I'm not really feeling it. Besides, I'm kind of working, I guess. So, I'll just make sure you guys have a good time."

"So, you're not planning to introduce whoever you're seeing right now?" Auston added with a smirk, causing your eyes to widen slightly in surprise.

"What are you talking about?" you asked, trying your best to stay composed.

"Come on, as if we haven't noticed those hickeys on your neck, y/n," the Scottsdale lad grinned, pointing to the scarf you'd been wearing for the past few days.

Shit, you thought. William, who just had to leave marks, and now the boys had spotted them, which you knew they inevitably would. But you attempted to deflect their observation with a smile.

"Just because I've got hickeys doesn't mean I'm seeing anyone... at least not anyone I'd let you guys scare away at New Year's. That's what Easter is for," you casually joked, trying to lighten the slight tension.

And it appeared that your response was almost good enough for them, despite their questioning looks as if their minds were racing at full speed.

"Fair point," Mitch chuckled lightly.

However, just as they were about to return to their seats, Auston leaned in gently and whispered softly in your ear.

"I really hope that Willy approves of this guy..."

His low voice sent a shiver down your spine. Why would he say something like that?

"I don't know what you mean, Aus... Willy's just a good friend," you flashed him a sweet smile.

"Oh, I think we both know there's more than friendship on your mind," he gave you a cheeky wink before strolling back to his seat, joining the conversation casually.

You had to suppress your reaction, clenching your jaw to keep your composure when Auston more than hinted at your feelings for William. But it seemed like mere teasing, and the boys didn't actually know anything, you thought.

And truly, they didn't.

Only Calle was in the loop, as William had confided in him a few days ago. But as for Mitch and Auston? It was all just guesswork.

Speculations that had been floating around for a while, mainly because everyone was aware of William's crush on you. Furthermore, it was rather obvious to anyone paying attention how the two of you exchanged meaningful glances across the room.

Yet, they remained unaware of your relationship. They probably didn't even suspect that you and William had been sleeping together for months. Still, this lack of knowledge didn't stop them from pushing Willy to make a move on you.

To them, your connection was simply adorable and amusing. They'd never seen William so into a girl, at least not on an emotional level. So, for a while now, they'd been brainstorming ways to subtly bring the two of you closer. Just to test the waters.

Even before you and William had shared your first kiss, they’d occasionally made deliberate exits from the room at the same time, creating space for you to be alone with William. Or they'd linger outside a room, ensuring that William ended up being in close proximity to you.

However, this time was different.

They could sense that there was more than just friendly banter happening between you two, so they decided to take their efforts further.

And the result?

Mitch had asked Stephanie to assist, getting her to invite you for a coffee meet up on the 30th before the match, while Auston had made plans with William to take the dogs for a walk.

And as silly as their plan might have sounded, it led to you sitting alone in the coffee house after Stephanie texted you at the last minute, claiming she was tied up, and in walked William. Of course, Auston had bailed on him just before their supposed coffee walk.

You couldn't help but burst into heartfelt laughter as you realised what was going on. Seeing each other instead of the people you were meant to meet made it apparent that your friends were up to something.

"God, they really tried to set us up, didn't they?" you chuckled as William joined you at the table with a coffee.

"I suppose they did," he grinned widely. "But the joke's on them, I guess."

"Yeah, well... it kinda already would be, but there's no need to let them in on that," you smiled as you enjoyed your warm drink.

"Fair point... but I'll catch you later?" William smiled, knowing he had to return to his waiting dogs outside.

"Yup, as always," you whispered softly, your eyes fixed on him as he left the coffee shop, watching the man your heart deeply desired for as long as possible.

And not many hours passed before you were back at the Scotiabank Arena, greeting each player as they walked by, getting everything ready in the locker room, setting up their equipment, and preparing for the media's arrival.

Everything unfolded smoothly as usual. The media naturally quizzed William about his contract before shifting their focus to the night's game strategies. And then the players went through their warm-ups in preparation for the match against the Hurricanes.

However, unfortunately, it ended in yet another loss for the team. Their former teammate Bunting scored the opening goal for Carolina, and despite the Leafs' valiant efforts to stage a comeback, Aho had already sealed the match.

It was another evening in the hallway, filled with encouraging and uplifting words from management and families to ensure the players didn't lose all faith in themselves.

So, after ensuring everything was settled for the night, you found your boyfriend still in the locker room, almost done.

"Hey," you spoke softly, quickly making sure you were alone.

"Hey babe," he met your sweet smile as you slowly approached.

It wasn't easy to maintain distance between you two. Right now, all you wanted was to throw caution to the wind and shower him with affectionate words, just like all the other wives and girlfriends did with their partners.

Your gazes were fixed on each other as you slowly moved closer. You licked your lips in a seductive manner, considering the sensation of his lips on yours, as you allowed yourself to succumb to his embrace, feeling his body against yours.

There was an undeniable magnetic pull drawing you together, despite all rational thoughts advising against it. Yet, the attraction was overpowering. And before long, you found your hands resting gently on William's chest, while his hands delicately tangled in the back of your hair, drawing you in for a tender kiss.

It was gentle and affectionate, a romantic moment shared as you both tried not to be overwhelmed by the chemistry between you.

But it wasn't simple.

William had to muster the will to pull away, resisting the urge to wrap his arms around you, engage in a passionate kiss, and yield to the temptation of pressing you against the wall and fucking you right then and there.

So, releasing a soft sigh, he gazed down at you with a tender expression.

"Please don't tell me you're bringing a date tomorrow night..."

His words caught you off guard. Why would he even consider that possibility?

But it wasn't entirely without reason. For weeks leading up to the team event, the players had been discussing who the single ones would bring as their dates. When asked, William had casually laughed it off with a laid-back remark like 'maybe just someone I've hooked up with once' or 'I'm not bringing anyone, I'm too focused on hockey to have time to find a date'.

And these responses prompted Auston and Mitch to set him up with someone, hoping to see if there was anything between you two. But their matchmaking attempt seemed to have failed. At least, that's what you believed.

Looking up at the man in front of you with a gentle smile, you did your best to reassure him with a slight shake of your head.

"Don't worry, I only care about being in the same room as you, Willy."

And your soft words appeared to calm William's nerves a bit.

"Good," he simply said before pulling you in for another kiss, this time with a hint of more intensity as both of you leaned into it a bit more, unable to resist, and convinced that no one else was around.

As your tongues intertwined and William's hands drew you closer, your hands trailed up around his neck. But your intimate moment was abruptly interrupted by a loud exclamation. Startled, you turned around with wide eyes.

"YES! Fucking knew it!" Auston almost shouted as he and Mitch barged into the locker room, catching sight of you and William kissing. The two boys had decided to double back and check on their friend, still suspecting something mysterious was happening, and they were thrilled about what they found.

"Shit..." you muttered softly as you reluctantly pulled away a bit.

"Oh, don't let us interrupt, lovebirds..." Auston teased, waggling his eyebrows as he confidently stood at the entrance, with Mitch next to him, both sharing equally smug smirks.

"Come on, guys..." William attempted a casual chuckle, rubbing his hand on his neck, realising he had been caught out for real this time.

"Hey, no worries... your secret's safe with us," Mitch chuckled softly, raising his hands in a playful defence. "Well, it would be if everyone on the team didn't already know..."

"What?" you exclaimed, taken aback.

"Yeah, we've all sort of assumed for a while—just needed confirmation," Auston interjected with another assured chuckle. "And now we've got it!" he added before the two lads shook their heads and made their exit, leaving behind a few cheeky remarks.

"Remember to use protection!"

"And get some rest before the big event tomorrow."

You couldn't wrap your head around it. Did everyone really know about you and William?

Remaining still in the locker room, you turned to face William once more, a soft smile gradually spreading across your lips as the realisation of what had just occurred sank in.

"Well, fuck..." you chuckled softly.

"Yeah..." William smiled, his hands gently finding your hips as he pulled you closer to him. "The good thing now is that I won't have to sneak a kiss from you in the dark of the wardrobe tomorrow night," he whispered softly.

And you couldn't help but return his smile, feeling a sense of reassurance that the team knew about your relationship. Now, your main concern was only the managers.

"I suppose that's a relief," you chuckled lightly, planting another soft kiss on William's lips. However, you quickly separated once more upon hearing footsteps in the hallway, realising that the staff was finishing up, and it was time to leave the arena soon.

So, swiftly, you made your way out, calling it a night for the work.

And as had been the case many times before, you spent the night at William's condo. Gradually, it had become the place where you spent most of your time together, partly because you knew he wanted to be with his dogs, whom you also adored. Yet truth be told, William's place was just much nicer than yours. Despite the quirky art he'd decorated it with, his condo was spacious, well-appointed with stylish interior decor, and overall, just much better than yours.

So, what you opted to do was take advantage of his wonderful shower after gathering your outfit and essentials for hair and makeup. Meanwhile, William was casually enjoying some gaming time with the team before tonight’s event.

And before you knew it, both of you were dressed to the nines, getting ready to head out for the party, appearing just like a genuine couple.

"Oh, hell no," William chuckled, his mouth forming an 'O' as his eyes stared intensely at you.

"What?" you asked, slightly puzzled by his reaction.

"You can't wear that..."

His eyes scanned your figure, taking in the sight of the long, sleek black satin dress that snugly hugged your curves, boasting a slit running up your right leg, almost reaching to expose the skin on your hip. The dress had a plunging v-neck with thin straps, accentuating your chest.

"Of course, I can, babe," you softly chuckled as you approached him, your arms gently encircling his neck as you walked into his embrace, where his hands found your waist. "Remember, it's all for you..."

Your soft, seductive voice made William lean into your touch, and you shared a deep kiss, both of you striving not to mess up your styles, before reluctantly parting, taking a deep breath, and then heading to the event.

However, your choice of dress turned out to be more of a tease than you anticipated.

The way you carried yourself so elegantly drew attention from all corners of the venue. Girlfriends and wives complimented how stunning you looked with your hair and makeup done to perfection, and even a few managers offered polite remarks about your appearance in their utmost professional manner as you entered.

It was almost a form of exquisite torment being separated during dinner – you seated with the managers and employees, and naturally, William with his teammates. Even after dinner, you had to maintain your distance as you conversed with your colleagues, discussing your career goals and the outstanding progress of your internship.

Where somewhere along the way, you found yourself engaged with one of the players.

Yet, despite attempting to remain professional and composed throughout the evening, you couldn't resist exchanging glances with William. Your gazes piercing through the air as both of you observed each other engaging in different conversations. And the anticipation only heightened when, gradually, one by one, the managers and families with children began leaving the event, leaving the players and their partners without children behind to continue the party.

It was almost too good to be true.

You could finally express your longing for the man you desired in a nearly open setting among the team and their partners.

And as the clock struck midnight, William drew you in for a tender yet passionate kiss. It was a moment to openly share the deep feelings that had developed over the past few months, feelings that could now be openly displayed, at least for the night. The dynamics might change upon returning to work, but that concern was set aside for the time being.

For the moment, you relished in the ability to wrap your arms around each other, share laughter and jokes with the others, and simply revel in the party atmosphere.

It was all so magical.

Yet, despite the wonderful feeling of being openly affectionate as a couple, the desire within William was reaching a boiling point.

Your appearance tonight had stirred a longing in him, a yearning to touch you, to feel your body against his, and to reach the peak of pleasure together.

However, it seemed like you had no intentions of leaving the event anytime soon. You were engrossed in conversations when you weren't enticingly flaunting your curves on the dance floor.

And it was becoming overwhelming for him to watch.

You looked incredibly stunning and sexy, and William felt a sudden urge to let you know just how amazing you were – and make you feel more than just good.

So, as you returned from your dance with some of the girls, William sneakily entwined his fingers with yours, gently leading you towards the hallway.

“Willy…” you giggled, following along. “What's going on?”

But he remained silent.

Instead, he simply guided you towards one of the restrooms, not caring to whether it was designated for gents or ladies.

And with a mischievous grin, he pulled you inside, pressing you against the door, and his lips fervently meeting yours, his tongue slipping into your mouth.

It wasn't forceful, but it was passionate and urgent, and William had no intention of holding back or waiting until you got home.

“Willy,” you gasped between kisses, but there was no room for conversation. His hands explored your body, his lips trailing along your neck, urging you to lean back against the door, granting him better access to your sensitive skin.

You could already feel the heat and anticipation between your legs, throbbing as you thought about the pleasure of his touch. Despite knowing that his teammates were just on the other side of the door and could easily hear you, you couldn't resist surrendering to him completely.

“Please, baby,” William murmured softly against your neck. “I need you…”

His deep and husky voice effortlessly persuaded you as he seductively guided your weakened body to lean against the counter, your hands supporting you while your face was right in front of the mirror with William positioned behind you.

Your eyes locked in an intense gaze through the mirror's reflection as his hands explored the curves of your ass, gliding under the slit on your thigh, skilfully manoeuvring the fabric upwards to reveal your cheeks for him.

"You look so incredible, baby," he moaned deeply, his hands caressing your rear, teasing the edge of your thong before gradually pulling it down to pool around your ankles. "Be good for me."

Your mind struggled to form coherent thoughts as he spoke to you in that seductive tone, slowly unbuckling his belt, and letting his dress trousers fall to expose his naked form underneath. Naturally, he wasn't wearing any underwear; it would only be discarded anyway.

And as you followed his every move intently, you suddenly felt his thick fingers stroking up your inner thigh, teasingly trailing through your folds, and gently massaging your sensitive flesh.

"Willy," you moaned softly, thoroughly enjoying his touch as he delicately pressed against your entrance before slowly inserting two fingers, stretching your walls while stimulating them.

"Yeah, that's it, baby, let those moans out, show me you're a good girl," his smug face appeared in the mirror before you. Just keeping your eyes open became challenging as waves of pleasure washed over you.

And William as well, was a tad eager himself.

So, instead of his usual routine of providing you a climax before his own pleasure, he felt the urge to tend to his already firm member, proudly standing between your bodies.

So, slowly retracting his fingers, he delicately positioned the tip of his cock at your entrance, ensuring your comfort before easing himself into your core.

“Fuck, Willy!” you exclaimed breathlessly, momentarily forgetting the presence of people outside.

But William, content with your uncontrollable moans, simply gradually moved his hips, the intensity overwhelming for both of you, as you shared such an intimate moment outside the confines of your homes. It felt exhilarating.

In fact, it felt more than just good.

As William rocked his hips, letting his cock stimulate your walls as you coated his length with your juices, he wrapped an arm around your body, holding you close to him as he rocked his hips and began pounding into you.

It was intimate yet rough and dirty. You dress was a complete mess as the man behind you thrusted passionately, making you both warm and sweaty with every moan, filling the air with raw sex noises.

“Yes, Willy,” you panted as you felt the sense of pleasure fill your every cell. Your rational mind long gone as he kept hitting your depth, and you felt the build-up of an orgasm.

“Yes, you’re such a good girl for me… letting me fuck you like this,” he praised you with a deep, rough voice, feeling his own climax coming in with each hard thrust.

Words and moans escaped you both as if no one was around. William didn’t bother to try and cover your both as louder sounds came out and you were unable to hold back.

Thoughts of sticking his fingers into your sweet mouth in order to keep you silent lingered his mind, but they were quickly brushed off as he enjoyed your noises too much.

And before long, you felt your legs tremble beneath you. Your body about to go completely numb as your climax was soon to peak and you couldn’t’ see straight any more. The image of William in the mirror began blurry, and without any form of control you tried to warn him. Clenching your walls as your moaned out loudly how you were about to come.

“Yes, come for me,” William encouraged amidst loud sounds of skin slapping together, his hand forcefully holding onto your breast as he continued pounding, aiming to push you over the brim.

“Fuck Willy!” you let out a loud moan, as you let the rush course over your body, feeling how your cunt almost sprayed with essence and your legs turning into jelly under him.

And your squirming under him mad William follow suit, sooner than he anticipated as your tightening around his cock send him over as well, letting himself coat your walls with his cum, filling you up completely as his body almost collapsed onto yours.

Moans slowly silenced, only heavy breaths leaving your bodies as you both gasped for air to refill your lungs.

It was an intense orgasm of a kind.

A build up thrill that had been released, and it took more than a minutes before William had the strength to pull apart from you.

“Shit…” you softly panted as you slowly came back to reality, realising just where you were and what you’d done.

Everyone could have heard you. Being aware of what you’d been doing.

But William was merely satisfied, flashing a big grin as he pulled up his trousers.

“What ‘s with the smug face, Nylander?” you flashed him a cocked eyebrow in the mirror.

“Nothing,” he simply chuckled. “I’m just letting everyone know what exactly we are…”

You couldn’t help but laugh a little. This boy was just too much. But god, how much you adored him.

As cheeky and smug he was, just as equally sweet and caring he could be.

“Guess, we’ll have to return to the party…” you flashed him a slightly concerned smile.

“Guess we do,” William spoke softly, before placing a soft kiss on your shoulder, followed by him bending down, prompting you to step out of your underwear, and tucked them into his pocket. “My souvenir for the night,” he smiled, before you both returned more than satisfied to the event.

#my asks #intern x willy #18+#william nylander imagine #wn88 imagine #nhl hockey imagine #toronto maple leafs imagine #nhl smut

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