#i tried to do makeup but it made me want to throw up it looked so horrible

[trashbaget]

today sucks that’s all

[lemonlover1110]

Trueform!Sukuna

Warnings: Pure Fluff

*Sukuna being a total girl dad for the daughter he didn't want, that's it. That's the post.

Discord +18 - Twitter - Ko-Fi

Sukuna would’ve never been caught dead like this, but then, he had a daughter. He hates being forced to sit down while his four-year-old daughter is putting his hair into tiny pigtails. All the bows that were made for her are now in his hair, and she keeps adding more. Sukuna wants to leave, mainly because Namie keeps tugging at his hair and he knows he looks ridiculous, but he doesn’t want his princess to throw a major tantrum.

“Are you almost done?” Sukuna asks, clearly desperate to get out of the chair. Unfortunately for him, his daughter doesn’t care. She’s very focused on putting the bows in his pink hair, which obviously match very well since they have the same hair color. He doesn’t want to be mean to her, but Sukuna can’t take it anymore, “Will you hurry up?! I have other shit to do.”

He comes off meaner than expected, and Namie drops the bow in her hand as her bottom lip quivers. At the sight, his heart breaks. He’s raising a spoiled brat, he knows it, but he can’t stand watching her cry. She lets out the first cry, tears streaming down her face– Crocodile tears, but still tears.

“Daddy hates me!” She claims, and she’s about to run away, but Sukuna holds her head. What was that thing you did to comfort her? He takes a moment to think about it, and when he remembers, he picks her up and engulfs her in a hug. 

“Imagine I did this to you.” Sukuna says before giving her a clear example and tugging her head. She whines before crying even louder. That’s not what he meant to do. Sukuna kisses the top of her head a couple of times because that always works for you… It doesn’t do anything. 

He knows he looks ridiculous. Stupid bows in his head of all different colors, a slight tint on his lips and some makeup from earlier on his face, all while he holds a little human and tries to get her to calm down. He does all of this for her and he’s still not even close to being the favorite parent. 

“I love you, princess. You’re everything to me.” Sukuna tries to tell her. How could he not? She’s a mini replica of him. Except, Sukuna doesn’t cry when he doesn’t get what he wants, he takes more extreme measures.

Namie stops the tears when she hears that her dear daddy loves him. She sniffles one last time before gesturing with one of her many hands for Sukuna’s face to come closer, which he doesn’t hesitate to do. Namie smiles before kissing his cheek, which makes the father smile– A smile that quickly goes away, just in case anyone happens to walk by and see.

“I love you too, daddy.” She answers, but that’s not all. Of course it isn’t. Sukuna puts her down on the floor again and she immediately asks, “Can I put more bows in your hair?”

He’s not sure he has space for more, but he doesn’t want his daughter to start crying again. He ends up sighing before answering defeatedly, “Yes. Yes you can.”

[lady-ashfade]

His work of art

day 2 of drabble marathon

Older!book! Percy Jackson x reader

-£ ask: hi! love your writing and love you! could you do for the marathon (book)percy with the reader wearing red lipstick for some occasion and he is so enamored with this look and how the lipstick smears on their lips because of him🥴 and tries to convience them to just spend the day with him.keep thriving, bestie!- Anon

-£ words: 700

-£ warning: short, kissing, fluff, kinda spicy content but nothing to much.

it was unbelievable how much more he was craving your lips.

Percy had to hold himself back most of the time from kissing you every moment he was with you. training? he wanted to scoop you up in his arms and capture your lips with his. or maybe you’re talking about something and all he can do is stare at your pretty lips and going blank on what you were saying. safe to say percy wanted to kiss you every second.

but now, as you lean against the mirror in your shared bathroom with your makeup all done he watched carefully. his heart thumped in his chest he was sure it was about to come out of his skin from how fast and hard it was. you looked so stunning. it was incredible how you made him speechless at your beauty. your body in the new outfit you bought making your body stand out, everything about you in this moment was like staring at a piece of art.

he walked into the bathroom without a word and stood behind you, not caring about the glance you gave him in the mirror as he wrapped his arms around your waist. in his pajamas he hugged you close, his hair messy and all over the place and his lips yawned. he looked so tired. he hummed when he placed his head on your shoulder and in the crook of your neck.

laughing you look at your boyfriend as his hands started to grab at your skin. you sigh and put the cap on your lipstick with a eye roll.

“can I help you?” you asked amused. he didn’t answer but left a small kiss on the skin of your neck. you took a deep breath, “words percy.” he groaned and looked up at you from the mirror and rested his chin on your shoulder.

“Look too good,” he mumbled and tugged you back into his chest with a growing smirk, “you know much much I like red on you.” huffing you raised a brow and place your hands on his arms around your stomach.

“don’t be like that, this is a important day.” both of you knew that his pleading eyes could make you stay almost every time. he only winked at you then spun you around and placed his hands on the sink behind you, trapping you. looking at him you look so beautiful with half wide eyes waiting for him to do something. he wasn’t going to disappoint you and he leaned into you and pressed his lips against yours not caring about messing up your makeup.

at the time you didn’t think about anything else but his lips so you throw your arms around his neck and pull him into you. it made you feel amazing how percy could crave you and needy for your attention.

breathing against each other his actions became messy and you didn’t care about the mischievous smirk on his lips. he knew what he was doing. how easy it was to mess up red lipstick.

he pulled away when he felt you gasping for air and opened his eyes to see his artwork now. the red stain was not just on your lips but around it making him feel proud. he took your chin into his hands, “maybe you should stay home today? no need to fix that.” his thump ran over your lips.

you turn around quickly and see the mess on your face making you panic and grab a rag and wet it with water. “you’re so evil!” you shout a half hearted insult making him laugh at you.

his fingers tap your hips as he inches back near you, “me? you enjoyed too.” his head fell back near your neck, “stay with me today? I’ll make up to you.” it pained you to decline his offer but today couldn’t be missed. your interview was today.

“I can’t,” you pout your lips and starts to cover the skin again, “but when I get home you can mess up my lips again?”

“you know just what to say to me.” he chuckles into your skin. he leaves kisses over your skin until you have to leave him, only the thought of seeing you again makes him keep going.

Taglist: @itzmeme @ravenmedows @maria699669

[foreingersgod]

Let’s Stay Home . EE

pairing: emily engstler x reader

synopsis: just a small fic about how your girl is absolutely infatuated with you

A/N: this was a request, but i accidentally deleted it! so if you requested emily x girly!reader, this was meant for you love!

“baby, our reservation is in like 35 minutes” emily called from her seat at the edge of your shared bed “we gotta go!”

“i know, i know! im hurrying” you called back, voice muffled behind the connecting bathrooms door.

you were stowed away in the bathroom still trying to make sure your makeup and hair were flawless all while trying to pull up your dress past your thighs. it was your 2 year anniversary with emily tonight and she had made plans to take you out to a nice dinner to celebrate, but now you were about to be late because of this damn dress. it was a stunning thing, a deep blue calf length gown that hugged you just right. the neckline was a bit revealing for your taste, but was partially covered by a strip of satin that crossed the top of your breasts and cascaded off your right shoulder. it’s only downside was the stupid zipper that wouldn’t budge.

“emily can you help me get this up? and maybe help me put this necklace on? i can’t do it” you huffed, stumbling out the door as you tried to slip on your heels. a simple necklace dangled from between your fingers as you latched the strap of your shoe.

“YN” she had said, standing but not moving, biting her lip.

“what?” you pouted upon seeing her expression “is it too much? ugh, i knew i should have gone with a different dress”

“no, baby” she finally walked over to stand behind you, tattooed hands finding the zipper of the dress “you look stunning”

you smiled, relieved that she had liked it after all. “thank you”

without a response, she pulled the zipper up to the top making sure it was secure. you handed her the necklace, giving her those eyes you knew she couldn’t resist. but you didn’t have to. she would do anything you asked no matter how silly it was. emily draped the gem studded necklace around your neck, clasping it with ease.

her hands lingered on you to keep you in place. they wandered from the back of your neck to your shoulders, moving painfully slow. her touch sent shivers throughout your body. calloused hands roamed any bare spot of skin making you close your eyes in contentment. she was your weakness.

“what happened to hurrying up?” you remarked as her head dipped down, lips connecting with the skin her hands once graced.

she placed wet kisses along your soft skin, hands now falling to your torso. her finger tips teased at dangerous territory, just along the undersides of your breasts. your dressed bunched up around your hips as she grabbed at you desperately.

“mmm” she sighed, pulling you against her forcing your backside to mold into her perfectly “maybe we should stay home”

yea, let’s stay home you wanted to say. but you had been waiting for this night all week and you just wanted to spend some (rare) quality time with your girl.

“no, i really want to go” you said, forcing yourself to turn in her arms so you could face her. “you went through all that trouble for the reservation and i wanna spend time with you!”

she squeezed her eyes shut, throwing her head back dramatically. all you could muster was an eye roll as you clutched her biceps.

“plus,” you purred, making her look down at you curiously “the surprise i had for tonight would be ruined”

“surprise?” her eyebrow quirked.

you placed your hands over hers, nodding your head in conformation. she let you take full control of her as you dragged her hands down the sides of your body over the blue satin, fingers trailing over the seams. you could sense her breathe hitch in her throat when she realized. hands reaching the plump of your rear, feeling the outline of lace underwear underneath your gown.

“don’t want to spoil it do you?” you leaned in to whisper in her ear, nipping at the lobe.

“no” she croaked out, cheeks going warm with a deep scarlet “no, you’re right, let’s go”

you smiled in satisfaction, proud of your little stunt. she found the small of your back to guide you out of your room and to the car. it was easy to tell by the way she held you that she wasn’t going to end the night without that surprise.

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

A/N: yay!! my first emily fic!! feedback is much appreciated :)

[disneyprincemuke]

the other woman * mv1

everything falls into place in your mind when max fails to show up for you at the one event you desperately wanted him to be at

pairings: max verstappen x fem!reader

warnings: cheating, jake gyllenhaal type behaviour

notes: hi i know i promised this on xmas eve and then i failed to deliver mY BAD BABY GIRLS! i am trying my best but then again i did get a fever and all but its ok lfg and NO I WILL NOT BE WRITING A PART TWOOOOO

(f1 masterlist)

your eyes watch your front door, bottom lip caught between your teeth as you try to hold yourself back from crying. there's a sob bubbling from the deepest part of your gut as you glance at the clock one more time.

he's late.

but one can also say that he's simply not coming. did he lie when he told you that he would make sure he showed up for you this time? or did he just simply forget about you again?

your eyes have been staring at that door for the better part of the last hour or so since guests started arriving for the party you'd thrown.

a party you'd thrown, admittedly, just to get his attention. you were never one to make a big deal of your birthday anyway, but he made you think otherwise. because he promised you that he would be here no matter what happened. it's stupider that he was the one that encouraged you to throw a party today.

only for him not to show up?

this is the one time you needed him to so desperately show up for you. but here you are, looking like a fool waiting for somebody who wouldn't come; for somebody who didn't even make you a first choice.

because you know that when if push comes to shove, he would still pick her. max would always pick kelly and penelope over you, no matter how much he tells you that he loves you. no matter how many times you endured him telling you that he no longer wants to be with her.

you know better than to be his little secret. your parents had not raised you to be a potential homewrecker, but are you really being one if he's the one that keeps coming back to you?

you've tried staying away, and you've attempted to cut all sorts of contact with him, but he eventually crawls right back to you a couple of weeks later claiming that he will break up with kelly soon.

you've even bought a new dress for the occasion; in max's favourite colour and a cut that you knew he would say you look amazing in.

only for him to bail on you. you'd even taken the effort to sit for an hour to do your makeup and hair. for nothing, essentially.

fast forward a couple of hours of holding back tears and forcing smiles, you're hunched over the couch, picking up empty beer cans and tears streaming down your face. at the end of the day, you're left alone in your apartment with a heavy heart and the eerie silence the room can only offer you.

you watch the last car from your guests drive away. you sigh and throw yourself on the couch, finally letting the tears fall from your eyes. you had no idea it was so difficult to pretend like you're okay until today.

it's totally different when it's got something to do with the heart, it seems. you were totally banking on the fact that he would be here today, at least today. just today. because it's your birthday.

it's your day.

a knock on the door sits you right up, hands darting up to wipe the tears that smudged your makeup. "give me a second!"

"it's just me."

the anger suddenly hits you. so he is available to travel out to come and see you. just not a couple of hours prior when everybody else was here? just not at the time when you actually wanted him to be here?

you stomp your way over to the door and swing the door open and a string of apologies quickly spill from his mouth. you immediately notice the wrapped present in his hand and the bouquet of flowers.

"i'm sorry, i got held up at home," max apologises with a frown. "p had a fever and she wouldn't go to bed unless i tucked her in. i'm sorry, i know i'm late."

you sigh, rolling your eyes. "you're not just late," you scowl, "you missed the party entirely, max."

"oh," he slumps his shoulders, "i was wondering why it was so quiet when i was walking up."

you shake your head and walk further into your apartment. "max, just go home. you don't have a reason to be here."

"what do you mean? it's your birthday," he says gently, following you in. he closes the door behind him and follows you into your living room. "is there still cake? maybe you can blow the candles with me before the day ends? i even got you a present."

"no, i let people take home pieces of the cake," you say softly, returning to your agenda of cleaning your home from the traces of the party your friends left. "what am i going to do with cake that i don't even eat?"

"you bought chocolate cake on your birthday? you don't even like chocolate," he points out softly. "nevermind that, i got you a present!"

"i don't give a fuck about your stupid present, max!" you burst, standing up and turning to finally face him. "i didn't ask for a fucking present! i asked you for one thing and you couldn't even do that!"

he stares at you, dumbfounded with his lips parted in shock at your outburst. you're not typically one to have outbursts, which is the one thing he claims he finds very refreshing about you. you're calm and collected most of the time, and you assess the situation before picking fights. "p was sick. what did you want me to do?"

"you're telling me you're a sole parent to this little girl?" you ask. "kelly couldn't have tucked her in so you could show up to the party that you asked me to throw? on my birthday? max, you had one job and it was to show up for me tonight! i waited for you all night!"

he seems to have lost all ability to speak because he just pulls out a chair from your dining table and takes a seat. "i'm sorry. you're right, i should have been here."

"seriously, max! are you actually ever going to leave them or do you just lie straight through your teeth whenever you tell me that?" she scolds him, throwing her arms in the air. "i'm not stupid, max! this has gone on long enough!"

"i am, and i will!" he answers you, running his hands through his hair. "i just need more time. there's a child involved, i really hope you understand. i can't just leave."

"you say that every single time! it's been seven months!" you cry. "you've made me the other woman for seven long months! am i supposed to just sit here and take that? just because i love you?"

"i do love you! but it's complicated, okay? i can't just leave p like this!"

you clench your jaw. how many times have you heard that excuse in the past year? and how many more times will you be fooled by the sweetness in his voice and his glistening blue eyes? "max, i think you should go. lose my number, and forget that i ever existed. i can't do this anymore."

his head snaps up to you. he quickly walks over to you, throwing his arms around you from behind. "wait, don't say that. please, i promise. i'll leave in the next month. don't leave me. i really don't love her anymore."

"i'm so tired of the lies, max," you sigh, desperately tearing his arms away from your body. you take a step back and turn to him. "you will always choose them over me. it doesn't matter how much you love me, max. you're too attached to them to leave."

"listen to me, okay? i will leave them. and then we can be happy together like we talked about all those nights we spent together," max coos, putting his hands on your shoulder. he bends down slightly to look into your eyes. "please, just give me one last chance - more time. i just need time. i will let p down easily and i'll leave kelly. please."

"i don't know how many more times you think you can fool me with that lie, max!" you frown, shoving him back. "just leave! leave me alone! i refuse to let you make me look like an idiot! i'm better than this."

"i thought you said you understood my predicament. with p in the picture..."

"yeah, for seven long months. do you know how many days that is? how many hours i'd spend with you wondering when you'd finally take me off the backseat and make me your own officially?" you throw your head back and a dry laugh passes your lips. "max, just leave. don't call me again."

"you don't really mean that."

"i do this time," you say firmly, turning around to face him.

you circle around him and walk over to your front door, pulling it open and gesturing towards the hallway. "i'm done. take your flowers and your stupid present and leave."

he does what you say, hesitantly. he keeps his eyes on you, hoping that you will immediately change your mind. he travelled this far to get to you, hoping that you would somehow forgive him for missing your birthday party.

but you're right, now that he's had a couple of seconds to think about it. in the past seven months, he's told you that he'd up and leave kelly and penelope so he can finally be with you openly. it's much harder to keep you in the shadows when everyone's got eyes on him all the time.

perhaps it's the attachment to penelope that he can't get himself to pack his things and call it a day. he genuinely does love that kid. and his girlfriend has her good days - not all make him want to pull at his hair in frustration anymore.

but he also really does love you. if there hadn't been a loveable child in the picture, one that's grown very attached to him, he would have been able to walk away months ago. it could've been that easy.

"just hear me out," max says, stopping right by the door and giving you one last pleading look. "don't leave. not like this. we haven't even had a real fighting chance."

"that's because of you. not me," you answer dryly, looking up at him. "just go. i can't keep having this conversation with you."

"please."

"i gave you too many chances to make this right," you sigh, putting a gentle hand on his back to guide him out the door. you press your lips together as a lump forms in your throat. you're more shocked that you hadn't fully started bawling moments ago. "i should have done this a long time ago."

"i'm sorry."

"i'm sure you are. too little too late." then you close the door on him and whatever could have been with max.

[aphroditeinthesea]

“ lipstick on your face (so it goes) ”

leo valdez x female!reader 🔨

leo realizes the power of makeup

⚠️ makeout, slightly spicy

˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖ 𐙚 ˖ ݁𖥔 ݁˖

“Can I do your makeup?”

He looked up at her from what he was currently working on, “what?”

“Come on,” she frustratedly threw her head back, “I’m bored and you’re pretty.”

He smirked, “I am pretty,” he sighed as he stretched out his arms.

She raised her eyebrow, leaning closer to him from the chair she was sitting on, “so you’ll let me?”

He stayed silent for a minute. He looked away, then back at her.

“No one else will see it!”

“My siblings-“

“I love you.”

“Why would you say that?!” He laughed. He slid his hands down his face, “you can do my makeup,” he finally caved in.

Her smile grew, “I’ll be right back,” and with that, she pecked his lips before running out the door.

Minutes later, she came back holding a pink sparkly bag, that Leo could only compare to a lunchbox. She placed the bag on the table next to his tools.

“I‘ll start with concealer,” she began, grabbing a small bottle that was so not his shade.

“Babe,” he laughed, “I don’t think that’ll work.”

She rolled her eyes, placing dots under each of his eyes, “you’ll live.” She grabbed an eyeshadow palette next. As she opened it, he swore it smelled like vanilla frosting, “what color do you want?”

He glanced at the palette, “f/c,” he answered, looking back at her again. Did he really care for that color? Not until he met her.

“You’re not just saying that?”

“You love that color and I love you, so it’s perfect,” he smiled.

She felt her heartbeat slightly pick up speed as she watched his lips. She grabbed the brush, blending the color onto his eyelid. She tightly held onto his jaw to make sure he didn’t move.

She stood back, tilting her head as though she were examining a painting. She nodded to herself before taking out a black tube.

“No way.”

She giggled, “what? Are you scared?”

He shook his head, “I just know you don’t have the steadiest hands.”

“You can trust me,” she tried to convince him. She opened the tube and straddled his lap to get a better view of his eye, “it would, you know, accentuate your already amazing eye shape.”

He held onto her hips to steady her, “you need to stop flattering me,” he joked.

She bit her lip as she smiled. She leaned into him, beginning to brush the liner onto his eye.

He couldn’t help but pay all his attention to her bubblegum scented breath fanning his face. His eyes twitched slightly, but he overall was too distracted by trying not just throw her onto the table and kiss her lips right then and there.

She screwed the cap back onto the eyeliner, placing it back in the bag, “that’s all done at least,” she turned back to her boyfriend and wrapped her arms around his neck.

“Is that all?” He questioned as his thumbs traced circles on her hips.

She paused for a minute, “one more thing.” She leaned back, pulling out a lip gloss. He puckered his lips as he thought she was about apply it to him. But instead, she glossed her own lips before putting the gloss away.

Before he had a chance to question her, his lips were taken over by the warmth of her own. He fell into the kiss as his eyes closed. He could feel the stickiness of the gloss being transferred to his mouth but he couldn’t have cared less, because all he cared about right now was pulling her as close to him as possible. His hands traveled down her body which made her press further into him.

She took her lips away for only a second so she could whisper, “you really are pretty,” she moved a stray strand of hair out of his face.

He laughed, “I know.”

“Shut up,” she added before leaning into another kiss. That was when Leo knew he would be asking her to do his makeup a lot more often.

[murdrdocs]

she’s driving me crazy

description. STILES STILINSKI finally gets another chance with you, and he won’t take it for granted

includes. SMUT 18+, riding, car sex, fem!reader, protective p n v, lots of making out, loser!stiles, awkward stiles, bi!stiles, exes getting back together, slightly manipulative reader, reader has easily malleable hair, reader wears makeup, drinking (but no drunk intercourse), bickering, scott guest appearance

wc. 6k+

a/n: long awaited stiles fic. bestie boo this one's for u. title from confidence by ocean alley. art credits unknown.

Stiles knows he fucked up. 

He had you, after almost a full year of tortuous pining, and he let you slip through his hands. All of it, your relationship with Stiles, really didn’t last more than two months. Two months where date nights were rain checked and eventually canceled. Sleepovers were lackluster, and nothing more than a movie playing in the back while Stiles worked over something that wouldn’t rest in his brain, leaving you alone in the center of his unmade bed. Promises were made, and never kept. It was a mess, a horrible, murky mess of Stiles’ own creation. 

He knows this. But he still allows himself to mourn what could have been. He grieves what was. All while nursing a warm beer that doesn’t sit well in his stomach, mostly because of the sight he has been doomed to acknowledge—also his own doing as he could definitely turn his gaze elsewhere. 

You’re tucked under the arm of some guy who looks nothing like Stiles, and he doesn’t know if that makes him feel better or worse. Is that your dream guy? Or are you forcing yourself to branch out and try something that wasn’t him? He tries to resist the spiral that sends him on, and is only able to start crawling out of the self-deprecating and insecurity tunnel through Scott’s voice beside him. 

“What’re you staring at?” 

Scott reeks of alcohol and fruit-flavored syrup. If he wasn’t a werewolf, Stiles knows his best friend would be unable to stand straight by now. But Scott stands like his usual self next to Stiles, a big grin on his face probably from the attention he’s been getting from Kira. (It was sickening for Stiles to watch but he forced himself to be happy for the strong relationship his best friend has.)

Stiles’ immediate instinct is to lie. “Nothing.” He says it a little too fast. He tries to cover his slip up by taking a sip of his beer, but the flavor is unappealing to the point where the face of disgust he presents makes him look more guilty than he really is. 

Scott stares at Stiles, waiting. Stiles knows he won’t lie to Scott, not about something this small anyway, and it is only a matter of a few seconds before Stiles sighs. 

“Look,” he points at you and your suitor. “Don’t you think he’s making her uncomfortable? Look at that. He’s all over her. Probably reeks of Axe body spray.”

It’s then that the guy cracks another joke, your head throwing back in laughter just before you rest your ear against his chest. It’s so affectionate. As if you’ve known this guy for years, and not just mere minutes. 

Stiles flicks his eyes over to Scott, expecting to see his best friend analyzing the situation with at least a small amount of attention that Stiles is. Instead, Scott is looking over at Stiles, wearing what Stiles can only describe as a knowing smirk on his lips. 

Stiles steps back, a little bewildered. “What?” 

Scott, annoyingly, shrugs. He sips his drink, one he has solely for taste as Stiles knows, and only responds once he’s taken a long, slow swallow. 

“She seems fine to me. I thought you guys were broken up anyway.” 

“We are!” 

“Then why do you care so much?” 

Stiles can’t help but petulantly roll his eyes. He turns to face you and your human shaped bag of bricks once again, gesturing for Scott to do the same. His mouth opens, lips parted and tongue ready to spew out the analytics he’d been gathering this entire time in lieu of an excuse. 

Then Scott interrupts. 

“Do you want me to see what’s going on?” Scott throws a finger up towards his ear, one eyebrow lifted as he waits for Stiles to gather the implications and then make a decision. 

It takes Stiles longer to complete the latter than the former. 

He waits, thinks, looks at you and the guy. And then remembers the strict ‘no listening’ rule you all have set in place, the one he most definitely won’t betray in the name of jealousy, even if you aren’t particularly aware of all of the intricacies. 

When he sighs, it’s defeated and with his entire body. He knows he’s pouting, he assumes he resembles his teenage self—mopey and brooding. He doesn’t mean to speak through gritted teeth, but he ends up doing it anyway. 

“No. She’s probably … fine. I guess.” It hurts to admit, deep in Stiles' jealousy-filled gut. Scott’s way of comforting him is by clapping a hand on his shoulder, and telling him that you’re a grown adult who is allowed to make her own decisions, the same as him. 

Scott’s intentions aren’t understood until he points at someone in the opposite direction of you. A guy who, from the looks of it, has been eyeing Stiles for a while. He’s Stiles’ type. Exactly his type, actually, and Scott knows this. 

“Instead of sulking around …” Scott doesn’t need to finish his sentence in order for Stiles to understand. He only lingers for a few seconds, and then is pulled back towards the larger group by Kira’s eyes and grin. 

The guy on the other side of the bar is still watching Stiles. He’s smiling a small but confident smile, like he knows Stiles wants him as much as he wants Stiles. He tilts his head in a beckon, and Stiles is close to letting the guy pull him over there. Until he sees you step away from the man, smile dismissively up to him, and start towards Stiles instead. 

Instantly, it’s like a flip has been switched. 

He starts to feel the effects of the alcohol, even though he’d been nursing the same bottle the entire night. Still, he chooses to attribute the buzz flowing throughout his body to the overpriced beer and not excitement of finally having your attention. 

He watches your path, trying not to feel too disappointed as he takes notice of the way you’re struggling to walk in a straight line. 

You fall into his arms in a fit of giggles. Your head resting on his chest, your hands circling around his back. 

“Stiles,” you sing, long and drawn out and definitely drunk.  

He repeats your name in the same tune, placing his drink onto a tabletop next to him and abandoning it for good. Keeping you away from self destruction is his new main priority. 

You slump against him even more, turning yourself around and leaning back against his body. Your position leaves Stiles with nothing else to do other than stand stiffly. He knows that if you were sober, you wouldn’t be nearly as affectionate as you are now. He ignores the way your ass brushes against his crotch. He ignores the smell of your perfume wafting up to him, a scent he had the privilege of seeing you apply a few times before when you were dating. (The image of you getting ready for the day, lathering yourself in the oils and lotions and scents that worked to create your unique scent will never leave his brain, for better or for worse.)

He does his best to remain unaffected, but then you tilt your head up, the crown of your hair rubbing against Stiles’ shirt as you look at him. As soon as he glances down, he sees you pouting, clearly over exaggerated but it’s a look he, pathetically, will never be able to resist. 

“Why won’t you touch me?” You manage to sound pitiful, as if you had lost every single thing you hold dear to your heart in the last couple of minutes. 

In his response, he tries to remain neutral. Drunk or not, you know the game you’re playing, and Stiles foolishly believes that his knowledge of the ploy makes him insusceptible. 

“Because you’re drunk,” he platonically rests his hands on your shoulders and encourages you off of him. “And we aren’t together anymore.” 

You turn around to face him, grinning up at him like the cat with the canary as you tell him, “it didn’t stop us last time, right?”

That, and the way you almost throw yourself at some guy walking past, is enough reason for Stiles to link his hand in yours and pull you towards the others. Scott stares down at your interlinked palms for only a moment before Stiles explains his plan, which entails getting you back to your apartment before you do something you could regret. 

This isn’t an excuse for Stiles to continue hanging out with you. He makes sure he clarifies that to himself and his best friend before he’s pulling you out of the bar and towards his Jeep.

You’re both less than ten steps away from the entrance to the bar when you suddenly have your lips pressed to Stiles’. 

There is a moment where Stiles fails to resist. Where he reciprocates quicker than his brain can realize, acting on pure instinct and muscle memory instead of logic. He is unable to stop himself from getting comfortable, from linking this kiss to the last one he’d received from you. Hotter and messier than this one. (Lost in his appreciation to finally be kissing you again, Stiles fails to notice how you don’t taste like alcohol at all)

Only a few more seconds pass before Stiles reminds himself that you’re drunk, and that this is wrong. When he pulls away from your lips—regretfully, that is—he’s tempted into staying by the slight stickiness of your lipgloss and the almost-disgusting string of saliva that briefly keeps you two sewn together. 

You try to lean back in, but Stiles stops you with his hands on your shoulders. 

“You’re drunk,” he reminds you. 

You’re fixing him with a look, one that feels strong and weirdly sober. His suspicions have more proof to back them up when you say his name with the same matter-of-fact tone he had just used on you. 

“I’m not drunk.” 

He scrunches his eyebrows together, the muscles in his face mimicking the movement as well. His lips part as he nonverbally exclaims his confusion. He lifts one of his hands from your shoulder to hook his thumb towards the bar entrance. He looks around, for nothing or no one in particular, but as if the night will have an explanation that you would surely be willing to provide if he asks. 

He didn’t even need to ask before you provide an explanation. It’s cut and dry, matter-of-fact, spoken like it is the most casual thing in the world. 

“I faked being drunk so you could take me home.” 

Stiles knows what you mean. He’s not dumb. But he surely does feel it when he says, “If you didn’t feel well you could’ve just told Lydia. She would’ve taken you back to yours.” 

You roll your eyes. “If you don’t wanna sleep with me, that’s fine. Just let me know before I waste my time.” 

Stiles should stand up for himself. He should reprimand your attitude, and exclaim how unnecessary it was. Instead, he flounders and almost falls to your feet with the speed he clarifies himself. 

“No. I do wanna sleep with you. Like, really bad. But … um … well,” you lift your eyebrows and Stiles clears his throat. “How many fingers am I holding up.” 

“Jesus, fuck, Stiles.” He continues holding up his first three fingers on his right hand until you answer. “Three.” 

You lean in but Stiles takes a step back. And then another. And then another, until he’s standing against the wall of the bar and you’re standing at the edge of the sidewalk. 

“Walk in a straight line towards me.” 

You don’t seem happy about it, but you place one foot in front of the other over and over again until you’re in front of Stiles. Nothing more has to be said before Stiles places his hands on your hips, pulls you flush to him, and finally allows himself to kiss you. 

It’s been a while since Stiles had the privilege of kissing you. The last time, just a month ago, didn’t count in his mind. Sure, he remembered nearly every detail, but your shared inebriated state at the time overruled any legitimacy the encounter could have held. Now, it only acts as a reminder and motivator for Stiles to enjoy every moment of this that he can. 

Eventually, it would be smart, and preferable, to leave the outside of the bar and actually take you home where you two could be alone. But for now, Stiles presses his hands into the middle of your back as a way to pull you as close to him as possible. He has his legs spread, creating space for your limbs to stagger. Your hands rest on his shoulders, then at the back of his neck, then in his hair. Both of you are attempting to get as close to the other as possible, all while engaging in the sloppiest kiss you’ve ever had. You both kissed cleaner when you were drunk. 

Now, outside this bar with your closest friends inside, and with nothing but the night (and the bouncer) as witness, you submit to the other. There is a level of appreciation in the way your lips slide together. There is a level of gratitude in the presses of your tongues against each other. There is an exorbitant amount of longing that is solved each time you jerk your hips into Stiles and each time he reciprocates. 

You thread your hands through Stiles’ hair the same time that he slides his hands down to your ass and squeezes, pulling you as close to him as possible and rubbing his thigh against the center seam of your jeans. You both groan into each other's mouths—Stiles from the way you tug just right on his hair, and you from the feeling of his leg between yours. 

Sensing—knowing that he did something right, something good, Stiles does it again. And again. And again. The steady slide of his thigh between your legs does the job. You let your head fall, leaning the top of it against Stiles’ chest just right under his sternum. 

The sound of you moaning Stiles’ name goes straight to his dick, with a few remnants traveling to his head, leaving him dizzy and with a steady growing semi. His actions make you grip his hair stronger. His actions indirectly cause pleasure for him, too. 

It all disappears when the sound of spitting—loud and boisterous, almost cartoonish—breaks up the moment. Stiles stops his movements. He lays his hands flat on the back pockets of your jeans as he turns his head to the side. 

The eyes of the bouncer meet Stiles and Stiles’ ears burn. 

While the bouncer doesn’t say anything to him, Stiles knows the message he’s trying to communicate. 

Get the fuck out of here. 

Stiles is forced to push you back by hooking his fingers in your belt loops. He’s still touching you, at least an extension of you, but then your hands drop to your sides and Stiles can feel his body crying out for you. The same way his body calls out for vital needs—food, water, sleep, entertainment. He squashes his emotions for a second, plasters on a—truthfully sympathetic—face, one that comes off more as a tight lipped smile than anything else. 

“Sorry, man. You — uh. You have a goodnight.” He throws a hand up to the bouncer, hoping it is received as friendly. When the bouncer returns the gesture, still with that same look in his eyes, Stiles heads down the street and pulls you with him. 

The walk to the car is tortuous. His boner keeps rubbing against his jeans, leaving him to stop every few paces, face away from the street, and try to adjust himself. After the third time, you were voicing your frustration, claiming that it was taking forever to reach the car because of Stiles’ worry about who could see his erection. He tries things your way, ignoring the way his dick calls for his attention and instead focusing all of his attention on you. 

The way your hips sway in your tight jeans. The way the wind blows your perfume to him and lifts the edge of your shirt in one, giving Stiles a peek of your skin. It’s such a small look, nothing more than a glimpse, and Stiles feels like a Victorian man the way he’s having to bite his fist at the next crosswalk to avoid groaning. The street lights illuminate your face in just the right ways, highlighting your makeup in an unnaturally ethereal way. Everything about you is driving Stiles crazy. There’s no way he’s going to make it to your house. If he doesn’t get to his car soon, he might pull you into the next bar bathroom that he could find just for a semblance of privacy. 

If he could just get to his Jeep. 

It’s then that Stiles realizes he’s been walking for far too long. He stops in the center of the sidewalk. You stop right beside him. 

Stiles doesn’t say anything as he turns around and leads you three blocks down the street, one street over, and then into the parking garage elevator. 

The way you’re grinning at him alerts Stiles of the words soon to come out of your mouth, definitely words that would be at his expense. He stops you while you’re ahead. 

It’s nice to have the position switched. Your back against the wall instead of his. His hands are still on your hips, but he uses them to push you into the metal instead of pulling you into him. You have that part covered, your arms once more thrown over his shoulders, pressed into the back of his neck and head, drawing him in until the pressure of his lips against yours is a little painful. 

In the rush neither of you have pushed the button, leaving the elevator stagnant on the ground floor. Stiles notices at the same time that you scratch his scalp. He moans, he really can’t help it. His mouth opens as you purse your lips again, and he feels a little bad but you aren’t deterred. In fact, you do it again, your nails scratching in just the right spot and Stiles feels like an animal the way he shudders and keens. 

He’s more human when he admits, “Missed this.” He presses his lips to yours again, pulling back with a smack. “Missed you.” 

Your lips slide against his with what Stiles can only describe as desperation. Pure, unadulterated desperation and desire. You’re breathing a little heavy, deep exhales through your nose and inhales in the in between moments, and it doesn’t turn Stiles off at all. He wants more of you. He takes more of you. 

He doesn’t know how long you two are in there, but it is eventually you who pulls back first, your lips visibly swollen and lacking any of the makeup that was previously on it. 

“Has the elevator been moving at all?” You could check for yourself. Just one look over Stiles’ shoulder and you could see that the small screen still displayed a digital ‘1’. Yet, you’re looking up at him instead. Like Stiles is the most important thing in the elevator. Like he’s the most important thing in the world to you. (Maybe it’s Stiles’ delusion talking, but he chooses to believe it either way)

Still, Stiles looks over his shoulder, confirms that he hadn’t hit the button at all, and leans back to correct his mistakes. 

The elevator beeps twice, bringing you both to the third floor, and as much as Stiles’ wants to continue standing there and just admire you, he can hear the door daring to slide close. Again, he pulls you out behind him. 

As soon as he turns the corner, Stiles is immediately made aware of the lack of other cars on the level. It’s a little eerie, and if he wasn’t about to get his dick wet he would possibly be on the lookout for potential threats that could turn one of the best moments of his life into another inconvenience. 

Your hands are on his shoulders, his back, his arms, as you hold onto him. 

“Why did you park all alone? Did you plan this? Were you trying to get in my pants all night?” 

Stiles digs into the front pocket of his jeans and searches for his keys. “No. There were other people parked here earlier. They’re just all gone now.” 

You hum unconvincingly. “Uh-huh. Whatever you say, Stiles.” 

As soon as Stiles has the passenger door unlocked, he holds the door open for you and stares, hoping the annoyance is overpowering every other feeling he’s currently having towards you. 

“In the back,” he tells you. You smile up at him, big and entertained, and then do as he says. 

He climbs in right behind you. At this point in the night, there was no point in attempting to get back to your apartment or his. Stiles couldn’t wait much longer, and you two are no stranger to the back of his Jeep. You’ve been in this situation before. 

It’s all completely effortless. You’re already in the process of slipping your jeans off whenever Stiles has the door closed. He mourns for just a second, pouting to himself over not being the one to take those sinful jeans off of you. But then you climb over his lap, situating yourself to hover just a bit above him. 

Stiles plants his hands on your hips, just like he did before, and pulls you to sit right over him, just like you have before. He knows that the status of your relationship has changed since the last time he had the privilege of being in this space with you like this, but that doesn’t mean the way you do things has to change, too. 

You were never shy before. You would always be quick to attach yourself to Stiles in whatever ways you could, just like you had been doing just a little earlier into the night. But that’s gone now. Now, you’re staring at him, your teeth pressed into your bottom lip. 

Before you were together for a short time, Stiles had spent months pining. Months analyzing whatever he could about you. Months mentally cataloging your tells. And now, he calls on that information to declare that you’re hesitant. You’re nervous. No, not just nervous. You’re worried. Almost regretful. 

He tilts his head. “What’s wrong?” 

You shrug but Stiles knows you’re aware of what has you like this. He just gives you the time to voice it. 

Eventually, you say: “Will this change anything between us?” 

It’s his turn to shrug. “I dunno. Do you want anything to change?” 

You shrug again. 

“Well … do you want to keep going? And we decide that afterwards?” Stiles really wants to fuck you, but deep down he knows that if you stopped and got up off of him in this moment, he would be okay with it. Well, he would be okay with it after a few days. Maybe a week or two. 

A little part in him swells, jumps, and clicks its heels when you nod. 

“Yeah. That sounds good.” You press your lips to his once. 

“You just tell me when you decide, okay? I’m cool with whatever you’re cool with.” And Stiles means that. If he gets just one more time with you, if this is his final time with you, he would cut his losses and be grateful for the time that he was allowed. What else was he supposed to do? He would never dream of doing anything that could jeopardize his spot in your life. 

Stiles can feel the warmth of your center is his hand when he trails his touch down. He cups your mound and his eyes flutter shut. He feels like a pervert for only a second before you start to work your lips down his neck and rock your hips into his hand. The way your mouth suctions around his favorite spot almost has him distracted enough to not notice your hands working on his pants. Almost. 

He can’t really tell in the dark, but he can slightly feel your once confident movements start to falter. You stop on his neck, keeping your lips as nothing but a pucker against his skin before you pull away completely to look down between the two of you. 

“When the fuck did you start wearing a belt?” 

Stiles doesn’t want to tell you the truth, he feels like it would be too embarrassing. Really, he knows it wouldn’t, but something about having to tell you that he decided to wear a belt because you always said he should makes him feel a little meek. So instead of filling the silence with the truth, he fills the silence with the clinks of his belt buckle as he undos it himself. 

“Recently,” is all he tells you when you’re still staring at him for a response. Somehow, it’s enough for you and your hands are back on his waistband. 

In record speed, your hands are down the elastic of his boxers and wrapping around Stiles’ cock. He doesn’t hiss, but he does shudder. He tries to hide it by pretending that the car is cold, which it was beforehand, but now it’s warm. It becomes warmer when you spit in your hand, wrap it around Stiles’ cock and pump him a few times, and then push your underwear to the side and hover above him. 

It really pains Stiles to stop you, but he does. He asks if you have a condom, then he asks if you want to use a condom, and the entire time he’s kicking himself. Because he can feel the warmth radiating. He has his tip already nudged between your folds, and just this small touch is already making him lose it. His nails are digging into your hips, he’s breathing harder than he was before, and he has to blink a few times to really focus on you. 

It feels like Stiles blinks and suddenly you’re tearing the foil packet open and slipping the condom over him. He watches it go down as best as he can, and the light doesn’t reveal much. Just the bottom of you and the tip of him is visible, the rest Stiles is forced to make out through squints and memorization. 

He’s just briefly dejected about the lack of visuals, but then your hands rest on his shoulders and he hears you take a breath and he knows it’s time. 

Stiles rests his hands on your side and looks up at you. 

You go down slowly. Softly. It allows Stiles to feel each delicious inch as they go by, revealing more and more of the inside of you as time passes. He battles between watching your face and simply basking in it. Eventually, he settles on the former. 

Your eyebrows are tightened just enough to show your discomfort. You have your lips parted, long breaths leaving them every so often, usually right before you sink down again. And Stiles has seen you take him before. He knows that you have been able to take him faster than this before. And then he wonders: is this your first time doing this, with anyone, in a while? Have you been as lost without him as he has been without you? Have you even attempted to fill that hole, and was your stunt earlier tonight just that: a stunt?

There isn’t time for him to ponder over his questions like he would have wanted to whenever you bottom out. It’s with a sigh, the back of your thighs meeting the top of his just briefly. 

You rest your forehead against his, and you both breathe together. Or, it’s more so you breathing and Stiles matching the pattern. 

You lean up, you move your hair out of your face, and you tell him, “Don’t remember it being this hard.” 

Slightly cocky, Stiles tilts his head.  At first he doesn’t say anything. He smiles, his eyes are heavy when they look you up and down, and then he rubs your back. “Take your time.” 

You take the time you need and then you start moving. Up and down. Up and down. Agonizingly slowly at first, and then faster when you get more comfortable. 

This is what Stiles has needed. This is what he has been missing in his life. You’re like a drug for him, and one hit seems like enough at the time, but by the time this is all over he knows he’s going to be searching for more. He’ll do anything he has to, so long as it gets him in a spot similar to this again. 

He searches for your hand, refusing to look away from the way your body moves atop of him for even a second. You help him out, bringing your hand to his, pressing the fingertips together, leaving Stiles to interlock them. He lifts your hands, looking at them in the white light that enters the foggy window. Somehow, this image is even more captivating. There is a more pornographic way the two of you are connected, one that demands Stiles’ attention. There is something about the innocence of this. He’s doing nothing but holding your hand, and Stiles feels like he might either lose his mind, or cum too quickly. 

He might do both. One after the other. 

You sink down on him again, a little awkwardly this time, but it does it for you. You hit a spot that makes your mouth widen and your eyes flutter shut. You search for it, and find it miraculously. Your head throws back as you hit that spot over and over again, pleasing yourself on Stiles’ dick. The image is heavenly for him. It’s euphoric. 

He lets his eyes wander down your neck, along your clavicle, and your shirt reveals just a bit of your bust but it’s not enough. With his free hand, he pulls the rest of the fabric down, and when he sees that you’re not wearing a bra, he almost cums into the condom then and there. He doesn’t wonder how he hadn’t noticed, he doesn't consider how he hadn’t taken into account the natural shape of your breasts pushing through the fabric, almost reaching out to him. Instead, he leans forward, presses his hand into the curve of your back, and attaches his mouth to the untouched skin. 

Your free hand sinks into Stiles’ hair. Your fingers weave through the back of his hair first, and then you make your way up to the front, pushing back his bangs blindly. 

Stiles peers up at you from his spot around your nipples. You’re still in ecstasy—your head now level once more, but your mouth still open and your eyes still closed. 

He detaches from your nipple to tell you: “Look at me.” 

It fuels Stiles’ ego when you do as told quickly. 

You’re looking at him on his command yet Stiles feels like he’s the one entranced. Because of your eyes. Fuck, your eyes. Watery, lazy, but your pupils are dilated. Your mascara has transferred to under your eyes by now, and it’s smudged a bit, making you look completely fucked out. Stiles thinks some of your makeup along your face has disappeared too, but it allows for a fresh skinned appearance instead. 

Really, there is nothing else for him to do except kiss you. It’s so messy but so good. You flatter in your movements on his cock, but Stiles feels absolutely no remorse when he takes over. 

He unlocks your hands and plants them both on your hips again. This time, he uses the leverage to pull you down on him again and again. He lets you lead the kiss, while he leads this. 

Your hands land on the leather of the seat behind Stiles' back and the foggy glass pane of the window. He hears your fingertips glide down the surface as he starts to fuck you harder, and then the sound is combined with your moans when your lips separate from Stiles’. 

You call his name, low and breathy. 

He hums. 

“‘m so close. Keep going. Just like that.” He nods. Then you add, “Little faster.” And he does as told. 

Your forehead pressed against his, the sweat on both of your skin making your heads glide more than anticipated. It doesn’t deter either of you. When your nose bumps against Stiles’, he kisses you again. When your head becomes too heavy for you to hold it up, he presses his thumb under your jaw, rests his fingers on the side of your neck, and holds the weight for you. 

“You’re so pretty,” he tells you, adding your name at the end to seal the deal. “Baby,” he says, and his heart swells when you hum in response. So he says it again. “Baby, you feel so good. Feel so good, babe.” 

He doesn’t know what more he says. He can vaguely recognize his lips forming the words and his own voice in his ears calling you the prettiest girl ever, telling you that he could never get this anywhere else, telling you he never wanted to get this from anywhere else. 

“Needed this so bad. I needed you so bad. I’ve missed you.” And just as his words finish, yours begin. 

“Stiles, Stiles. Right there. ‘m … I’m…!” 

He singles two fingers out, slips them between your thighs, and rubs along your clit until you’re shaking above him and holding onto his wrist between your bodies. He doesn’t know if you’re trying to pull him closer or push him away, but watching you cum is too gorgeous for him to ever dream of making it stop. 

So he doesn’t. 

Not even when your eyes start to leak and your lips start to plead and you contract around him. 

“One more,” he asks. “I just need to see it one more time. Please.” 

The sound of him moving in and out of you is loud. He drifts his eyes down to watch it happen, groaning when he just barely sees a broken ring of white glinting in the fluorescents from the parking garage. 

It feels a little romantic when you cum and then Stiles follows right after. 

The Jeep is warm, the windows are foggy, and there’s an ache in Stiles’ thighs. He knows for every one of his aches, you have three. The condom has been removed, tied, and disposed of in an old paper bag Stiles had sitting on the floor of his car. His pants are pulled back up, but his belt is still undone. His shirt sticks to his skin and he really needs greasy food and a shower. 

But if that means leaving this moment, and never returning to it, he could put off his needs and wants for an eternity. 

You’re sitting next to him, redressed with the button of your jeans still undone. You’re staring straight ahead, trying to catch your breath as you rub the muscles in your thighs. 

Stiles doesn’t know what to say, so he licks his lips and he says, “Uh … do you … um. Would you like some … ice or something? For your legs?” 

You smile ahead, turn to face him, and shake your head. “It’ll be fine. Nothing a shower and good sleep won’t fix.” You pause. “And maybe some food.” 

Which is how Stiles ends up sitting in your bed, sipping the remnants of his Dr. Pepper as he watches you lather lotion on your legs with your towel still hanging off of your body. 

“Your food’s cold,” he tells you. He doesn’t tell you about the handful of fries he stole earlier, but he knows you’ll notice it and hold the grudge for later. 

Later. Will there be a ‘later’? 

“Be there in a second.” You start to walk back to the bathroom. “Should we go to that place in the morning? Or …” you look at your clock and wince at the time. “Later. The one with the really good pancakes?” 

Stiles is quick to agree. He would love to do something with you later. 

[hughes86-43]

You coming in from a late night at work to find Quinn hughes asleep on the couch, as he was trying to wait up for you

Waiting Up | Q. Hughes

warnings - none!

love this idea, thanks for requesting!

You just walked in through front doors of yours and Quinn’s apartment when you spotted him on the couch. He was underneath one of your big, cozy blankets fast asleep, and the tv was on in the background filling the silence. He must’ve been waiting up on you to get home.

Usually you’re the one waiting up on him to get home from either practice or games that you couldn’t make it to. Today, however, you had to stay over a bit at work at your marketing job since you have a big proposal coming at the end of the week and had paperwork piled up.

Not wanting to wake Quinn up just yet, you walk into your guys’ shared bedroom to change out of your work clothes and into comfy pajamas and throwing one of Quinn’s hoodies over it. After that, you make your way into the shared bathroom to wash your face to get rid of your makeup from the day.

Walking back into the living room, you take another moment to look at your gorgeous boyfriend who is still sleeping peacefully. Deciding now is a good time to wake him up as you were getting hungry for dinner, you walk over to him and bend down so you’re eye level with him. You lay your hand on his cheek, rubbing circles with your thumb over it. “Quinn baby, I’m home.”

Upon hearing your voice and feeling your touch, he opens his eyes. With a faint smile he says, “Hi baby, I tried waiting up on you but I guess I fell asleep, so happy to see you.”

“I’m happy to see you too, now scoot over, I wanna lay down under the covers too!” Quinn laughs but waits not a second more to pull you under the covers with him. He just got back into town yesterday from a roadie, so he has missed you so much, and you have equally missed him the same amount. You were upset that you had to work late, but now you have time to enjoy moments with your sweet boyfriend.

“How was work anyway? I know you said it was a bit stressful, but did it let up any today?” He say while intertwining your hands together.

“It was better today than it has been, but what can you do when you have a major proposal coming up. During our lunch break though, we all went to that taco place in town that has those birria tacos that you like, and now I have my coworkers obsessed with them,” You say with a smile on your face.

“Hey! Those tacos are the best, everybody needs to know about those!”

“You’re right,” you say laughing. “I’m glad you’re home, it makes coming home from work better.”

“I’m glad I’m home too, just hate that I was asleep when you walked through the door.” As if you could get any closer to him, he pulls you back into him and wraps his arms around you even more.

“It’s okay, I got to admire your lovely face for a bit when I walked in. Also, please never shave because the beard is looking so good.” You say shyly.

“Oh, yeah? I guess I could grow it out a bit, for you anyway,” He says with a wink, and then he starts tickling your sides and that causes you to start laughing. He could listen to your laugh forever.

“Okay stop! I take it back! If you’re going to tickle me, then I don’t need the beard anymore!”

“Hmmm I bet. I’ll let you rethink that decision,” he says pulling back from tickling you and now just admiring your face that is now slightly pink from laughing so hard.

“Okay, never mind, I love the beard too much for you to get rid of it!” Then you pull him into a kiss, instantly melting under him.

Suddenly needing air, you two pull apart. Now remembering why you needed to wake him up, you say, “I’m hungry, what do you want to eat? I’m down for anything that you are, just not tacos!”

“Hmmm, I think I want some macaroni and cheese honestly. I haven’t had it in a while, and you make the best out there. If you get all the ingredients together, I’ll help you make it.” He says, rubbing his hands up and down your leg that has made it out from under the covers.

“Sounds perfect Quinny! Now let’s go eat before I starve!” Sadly you leave the warmth from him and from being under the blanket and make your way to the kitchen to get the ingredients.

As soon as you make it into the kitchen, Quinn grabs your hand and pulls you back into him. “I just wanted to say that I love you so much.”

Giving him a big smile, you pull him into a deep hug, “I love you so much too.” In that moment, you know you’ll always have someone to go home to, even when he is away for games, he will always be your home.

[denwritesandcries]

Call me Yours – Natalie Scatorccio

Pairing: natalie scatorccio x fem!reader

Summary: You’re in a closet with Natalie Scatorccio. How ironic.

Word count: 2,3k.

Content: NSFW, no crash!AU, cursing, arguing, jealousy, makeout session, thigh riding, slightly toxic behavior?? but it wouldn't be a yellowjacket relationship if it weren't just a little.

A/N: Is it a secret relationship?? Friends with benefits??? I don't know man but they’re horny.

English is not my first language.

You're in a closet with Natalie Scatorccio.

There is a party going on outside, students filling the rooms of Lottie's house with loud generic music playing in the background, but the small room you two were locked in remained silent, too silent.

“See ya’ in 7 minutes, ladies!” Van's mocking voice cuts through the air, but a knife could have done the same; the blonde snorts and you roll your eyes, fixing your gaze somewhere in the darkness so you don't have to face her.

“Ugh, how old does she think we are?” Natalie hisses, you can feel her eyes on your face, even though you can't see much more than the outline of her body at the moment.

You say nothing, arms crossed over your chest and a frown covering your face, Nat tries again:

“I didn’t even want to come to this stupid party.”

“I get it,” you bite, just because you know her well enough to guess that she won’t stop complaining until she gets something out of you, “I get that you don’t want to be here, Natalie.”

She must finally realize how mad you are – mad at her – at the sound of her full name instead of the nickname that always seemed to be on the tip of your tongue, because you swear you can hear her teeth chattering when she shuts her mouth.

With a growl of frustration, you let your head hit the wall with a thud. Great, your night was already being shit, the last thing you needed was to end up playing 7 minutes in heaven with the person who was the cause of your bad mood. Simply amazing.

You see, Natalie had been acting weird for days now, randomly avoiding your company and acting like she didn't know you in the school hallways and being really rude to you during practice. Now, this might even be normal and acceptable behavior from the quiet blonde if you were anyone else, but you weren't. You are her girlfriend.

Are? Were? You don't know for sure anymore given the way she's been acting lately.

Maybe it wouldn't have made you so angry – confused? Yes. Sad? Definitely, but not angry like that – if it weren't for today, for the party.

You had planned to meet Nat at Lottie's party and corner her to finally make her explain what the hell is wrong, dammit, because one afternoon you're smoking with your girlfriend and friends quietly in the basement and the next she's throwing you daggers with her glance every time you open your mouth around her. Anyway, that's what you were going to do, until you found her in the Matthews' giant kitchen leaning against the counter with a cup of beer in her hand and Kevyn Tan practically throwing himself at her, keeping an arm full of spike bracelets wrapped around her shoulders and face with heavy makeup too close to hers to be considered friendly, drooling for Nat like he's always done since you've known about his existence.

Now that really pissed you off.

Who does that sad, emo, pitiful boy think he is to touch your girlfriend like that? And why is she letting him?

You think she could feel you fuming as you stared at them from the door, because the next second she lifted her head and looked at you like a deer caught in the headlights, as if she knew exactly that she was doing something she shouldn't have.

Screw it, you thought, if she'd rather act like you didn't matter anymore, then fine. You won't be standing just watching.

You turned around and only managed to disappear around the house for the next half hour before Taissa appeared with a tired frown and practically dragged you to where the group had gathered with an empty bottle, because Van and Jackie wanted to play something – 'If I'm in this, then you’re too!’ – and well, fuck.

You two have been completely quiet for almost a whole minute and that it's eating you alive; Nat has always handled silence well, you haven't.

Fidgeting with the hem of your own shirt angrily, you huff and give up on the tough act, the blonde straightens up when she hears your footsteps approaching her.

"What is happening?" Your voice comes out in a shamefully desperate tone, “Why are you acting like this with me? What did I do?"

You can see her now, being so close and now used to the dark; her fists are clenched, Natalie keeps her eyes fixed on your figure. For a moment, you think she's going to keep her cold facade and avoid your question with some sarcastic response, she most likely considered it, from the way her mouth opens and closes for a quick moment.

She turns her face to the side, trying to hide, but you can see the difference in tone in the paleness of her skin anyway. Oh, she's embarrassed.

“Nat?”

She mumbles something you don't understand, then your curiosity gives way to the anger and your hands find her face, turning it so Natalie is looking at you.

"What was this?" You ask again, softly this time.

“You called me your girlfriend.” She spits it out fast as if it were just a single sentence, rolling her eyes at your confused face, “You called me your girlfriend to everyone when we were smoking after practice last week.”

Oh, you remember that, when Jackie decided to lecture you all about the smell of smoke that lingered on her clothes after she and Shauna decided to tag along on one of your hangouts with Lottie, Van and Tai, turning up her nose and talking about how you all – and especially Nat – should stop with this habit. ‘Jackie, stop bothering my girlfriend!’, that’s what you said. Is that what made you spend a whole week grounded in the doghouse?

“...And isn’t that what we are?” You try, unsure. This conversation is not taking a very pleasant turn toward a reconciliation.

Nat bites hard her bottom lip, you can see her struggling with the next words:

“It’s just… no one was supposed to know.”

“Oh,” you mutter pathetically, sounding very much like a wounded puppy, “So that’s the problem.”

You're in a closet with Natalie Scatorccio. How ironic.

You can tell she regrets it the moment she says it, grabbing your hands in hers as you pull away.

“No, no, I’m sorry. I– I didn’t mean it like that.”

“How did you meant that then?” Your initial anger and frustration return with a vengeance, you move forward until Nat's back hits a shelf in the small room.

Natalie always does this. Avoid anything that labels your relationship as real; calling your dates ‘hangouts’, not touching you when there are people around, leaving your house before you wake up in the morning, avoiding kisses and caresses that don't initiate anything sexual, calling you ‘friend’ when you can see that the whole team knows this is not all you two are.

Still, – still – she always shows up at your house when she's upset; she doesn't like it when you miss your 'hangouts'; always stays close to you wherever you are together; gets mad when she sees you talking to other girls, even if they are nothing more than classmates; leaves marks all over your body, but doesn't let you do the same, spots and more spots all over your neck that are impossible to cover. People know that you're dating, they just don't know that you're dating Natalie.

And then she gets mad at you for finally putting a name to whatever this is and starts avoiding you completely, even though it's been months since it all started and you've known each other for years.

Nat gasps when your hands find her waist with a firm grip, bringing your lips closer to her ear:

“I’m gonna make you want me to be your girlfriend.”

You swear you feel the shiver that runs through her body. Nat smells like cigarettes and mint gum and it tastes the same when your mouth meets hers.

Her arms are around your neck before she's even processed what's happening, black painted nails playing with the hair on the back of your neck like it's second nature – and it is.

The way Natalie tilts her head to deepen the kiss and bites your lip hard when your hands come up to caress the skin under her shirt says your actions are much appreciated.

The husky, needy moan that escapes your throat when you realize she's braless, palming and massaging her soft skin brings a cocky smile to her face, she sighs, breaking the kiss and letting her head fall back against the shelf in satisfaction.

Nat doesn't moan, not like you do. She seems to want to hold back as much as possible, taking all kinds of reactions from you and your body, but not giving the pleasure of having the same from her. You want to change this.

You let your mouth roam from her strong jaw to her pale neck, leaving wet kisses, bites, and marks. Many marks. You bite the thin skin in different spots, soothing the bite with your tongue, hoping for the spots to form and stay there for days, for everyone to see.

You lazily slide a knee between her legs when you feel Natalie try to turn you around to take control. You usually let her do it, but not today. She squeals in surprise and pleasure, hips instantly grinding against you.

“Nah-ah, Nat,” you cut, bringing a hand down to slow the pace of her hips, “I guess you shouldn’t take anything today, or do you think I forgot about how much you paid attention to that little emo bastard earlier, huh?”

“You hate him that much, huh?” She tries to say in a mockery tone, wanting to turn the tables again, but it sounds pathetic as her voice breaks later in the last words.

“Yes,” you say easily, leaving a lingering kiss on her shoulder, finding her pulse point, “He was touching you. Touching my girlfriend.”

You bite down hard on the skin when Natalie turns her head to grant access and she moans, actually moans, fuck, you did it. A full sound, loud enough to make your pupils dilate until your irises almost disappear. This, this sound, you want to hear this forever.

It's been more than seven minutes, you think, or maybe our discussion was just really quick. You wonder if you would have time to take one of her breasts into your mouth, feeling the way she rolls her eyes and thrusts her hips against your thigh, now free from your hands, when you roll her nipples hard between your fingers.

She sighs as she receives another kiss from you, much softer now, more affectionate, feeling her hand tracing circles on your cheek.

A quick, loud knock on the door startles you both, making Nat jump and bang her head against one of the shelves behind her and knock something over, “Fuck!” She screams and you instinctively reach for her head to check for injuries.

You look at the source of the knock, it's definitely not Van calling, she would have opened the door at once just to laugh at your faces.

“Girls, time is over!” Jackie's voice sings on the other side.

“Ugh,” Natalie grunts, clearly frustrated at being interrupted so abruptly, she takes the opportunity to finally take a look at the closet as you head towards the door, “Is this some kind of pantry?”

“I don’t know,” you shrug, “Rich people have so many random rooms scattered around their houses.”

There are loud whistles and jeers as you leave, half the football team gathered in the busy room and giving you knowing looks, you give Van the finger when she points out the traces of dark lipstick on your mouth.

“Were you guys actually going to fuck in there?” She teases, arching an eyebrow with a smirk.

You open your mouth to retort – probably with something stupid – but Natalie is quicker:

“Fuck off Van, stop bothering my girlfriend.”

Van gives up the provocation, raising her arms in surrender and Nat rolls her eyes as if she hadn't said anything important, but you're absolutely frozen, listening to your heart beating rapidly against your ears.

Natalie looks back when she notices you standing still and snorts in amusement at your reaction, grabbing you by the wrist and pulling you with her.

“C’mon,” she says, “Let’s go, silly, I got something to do–”

“Move!” Jackie interrupts with an anxious tone, pushing you gently by the shoulder and bouncing on her heels, “It’s our turn.”

You catch a glimpse of Shauna standing shyly behind her like a shadow being dragged to the closet and Jeff sitting on the floor with the rest of his classmates with the most confused and defeated expression you've ever seen as Nat hurriedly guides you out.

When you're about to get into her car, Natalie surprises you, grabbing your waist with her cold hands and pressing you against the door, hungry eyes fixed on your form.

“I–” you stutter nervously, “I thought we were going home?”

Natalie nods.

“We are,” she agrees, “I just have to do you first.”

Well, maybe your night won't end as bad as you thought it would.

[kiarastromboli]

Teach me 2 (Chris Sturniolo x y/n)

Part.1 Part.3

Masterlist.

Warning: Not my edit, Smut content, don’t like it = don’t read it :)

Summary: Y/N and Chris's relationship has evolved, but Y/N insists on keeping a low profile for fear that her parents will find out she has a boyfriend.

•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•.•

"Wake up, honey, your dad is dropping you off today," my mom said, gently stroking my hair to wake me up.

I just hummed in response, too lazy to open my mouth and speak.

After a few seconds of tossing in bed to stretch and rub my eyes, I reached for my phone.

I smiled foolishly at my phone before getting out of bed to get ready.

My relationship with Chris had evolved since the night he climbed through my window two weeks ago. We decided to take our time; nothing was officially defined, and not many people knew about us.

Mainly because I was afraid my parents would find out I had a boyfriend. Chris didn't care; he wasn't the type to overthink, and that's precisely why I tried to keep this relationship discreet.

My parents had been quite clear in the past about boys—no boyfriends before the end of high school. According to them, it's a distraction, and they want me to focus fully on my studies, which I can understand.

On top of that, Chris is pretty much everything my parents would dislike, so it would be even worse if they found out I was dating him.

Anyway, I left my room to head to the bathroom. I took a quick shower, got dressed, brushed my teeth, styled my hair, and applied a bit of makeup.

I wanted to look a bit nicer today for Chris; I knew this lacrosse match was important for him, and I wanted to please him.

"You look very beautiful. Do you have a special event today?" my father asked as he saw me coming into the kitchen.

"Um, no, I just felt like getting ready a bit," I nervously replied before sitting at the table for breakfast.

"By the way, I'll probably be home a bit later tonight. There's an important lacrosse match, and I plan to watch it with Julia," I added nervously.

"Hm," my father looked at me strangely before returning to his phone.

I had my breakfast peacefully, and then my father and I headed to school.

My morning went by normally—nothing extraordinary. I attended classes, worked, and chatted a bit with my best friend Julia. Then lunchtime arrived.

"See you at the match!" I told Julia as I left the class to go to my locker.

I opened my locker to put away my things, and when I closed it, I was taken by surprise by Chris standing right behind me.

"Oh my god, Chris!" I said, placing my hand on my heart, thinking I was having a heart attack.

"Sorry, didn't mean to scare you," he said, chuckling, and I gave him a playful punch in the shoulder before laughing myself.

"You look good," he said with a smirk, wrapping his arms around my waist.

"I made an effort for you today," I told him, smiling and tilting my head to the side.

"Can't wait to take off that little skirt later," he whispered in my ear, making me blush.

"Chris!" I said, clearing my throat and looking around to make sure no one had heard.

He chuckled before leaning toward me for a kiss, and instinctively, I pulled back.

He gave me a confused look. "Not here. I don't want anyone to see us," I said timidly.

"Y/n, your parents aren't going to magically appear out of nowhere and catch us kissing. We're at school," he replied, rolling his eyes and sighing.

"I know, but I don't want to take the risk of someone telling them!" I replied.

"I couldn't care less if your parents don't like me, Y/n. It annoys me that I can't kiss you whenever I want!" he said, getting frustrated.

"Chris, I know. I'm sorry. Please, stop," I said, immediately feeling guilty. "Maybe you don't care, but it's important to me. I'm not ready for them to know. I need a little more time."

He sighed, throwing his head back. "Yeah, see you at the match after school," he said before turning around and leaving.

It really bothered me that things were so complicated. It was just the beginning of our relationship, and I was terrified of ruining everything because of my parents.

The rest of the day, I wasn't really focused on anything. I couldn't stop thinking about Chris. I didn't want to hurt him, and I could sense that this situation was bothering him. I wanted to find a way to make it up to him.

After school, Julia and I headed straight to the stadium to watch Chris's match. We had seats right at the front in the stands.

"Hold this for me. I'm going to see Chris quickly before the match starts," I told my best friend, handing her my bag.

Of course, she knew about Chris and me; she was the first person to find out.

She nodded, smiling at me, and I ran toward the locker rooms. I was lucky; Chris had just come out.

I grabbed him by the arm and pulled him to a more discreet spot where no one could see us, then kissed him.

"I'm sorry for earlier," I replied, separating our lips. "I don't want our argument to distract you from your match. I'll find a solution."

"I'm not angry with you, Y/n," he said, placing his hand on my cheek. "It's just that I wish I could show everyone that you're mine."

"Shut up," I said, grabbing the collar of his shirt to kiss him. "How about you show me how much I'm yours after this match," I added, biting my lip.

"You won't have to ask me twice," he said, grabbing me by the waist, pulling me against him, and kissing me again. "Join me in the locker room after the match," he said, disconnecting our lips.

"Chris, I meant at your place or mine, not here dumbass," I said, chuckling.

"I won't wait until then. If it were up to me, I'd fuck you against this wall," he said, smiling.

"No, Chris, you're insane. We're not doing that in the locker room," I said, shaking my head.

"Okay, let's make a deal. If I score three times during this match, we do it in the locker room. Otherwise, it's up to you to decide," he said, extending his hand.

"Chris," I said, looking at him seriously, and he insisted, "Oh my god, okay fine, deal," I finally gave in, and he kissed me quickly before turning back to the others.

Even if Chris was doing pretty well in lacrosse, there was little chance he would score three times on his own. Given the level of his team, I knew this deal was already in my favor.

"Are you done making out with your secret boyfriend?" Julia said when I came back to sit next to her.

"Oh, shut up!" I said, laughing.

It was Chris's first match that I attended. I had seen him practice once or twice quickly, but I didn't expect to find it so attractive to watch him play.

I don't know if it was the brutality with which he entered the opposing team members sometimes or the moments of pause when he removed his helmet to run his hand through his hair.

Not to mention the countless times he threw me looks that, honestly, soaked my panties.

I already found Chris incredibly sexy in everyday life. Sometimes I even felt like a teenager in front of a boyband with him. This guy represented everything I found most attractive.

When he scored for the first time, I was the first to cheer and encourage him, proud to see my boyfriend contribute to his team's victory.

The second time, however, I quickly felt reality catching up with me. Had I just been fooled? I felt anxiety creeping in. If he scored one more time, it meant I was going to sleep with him in the locker room. Oh my god, what had I done?

The rest of the match, every time he approached to score, my heart skipped a beat. But when the last few minutes arrived, I started to feel reassured.

That was without counting on the fact that Chris scored one last time in the last 5 minutes of the match.

Everyone in the stands stood up to celebrate our team's victory, and I sat there for a moment when I realized what that meant. Damn.

After a few minutes of celebration, the team left the field to head to the locker room, and I received a message from Chris.

I blushed at his message.

"Everything okay?" Julia asked, putting her hand on my shoulder, making me jump and immediately turning off my phone so she wouldn't see my messages.

"Um, yeah!" I said, clearing my throat and smiling to pretend nothing was wrong.

"Okay..." she said, looking at me strangely. "Anyways, my brother is dropping me home in 5 minutes. Do you want us to drop you off on the way to your place?" she offered.

"No, thanks, Ju. I'll wait for Chris to come out of the locker room. I have something to tell him quickly," I said timidly, running my hand over my neck.

"Oh, okay. Well, see you tomorrow, Y/n," she said, smiling before leaving.

It had been about twenty minutes since I was waiting in the stands, feeling stressed and anxious.

Of course, it wasn't about sleeping with Chris; on the contrary, I wanted it. It's just that I found it quite risky, and what if someone caught us?

Anyway, I made a deal with him, and I can't back down now.

My moment of solitude was interrupted by a message from Chris, letting me know that the locker room was empty, and he was now waiting for me to join him.

I took a deep breath and stood up before starting to walk towards the locker rooms.

I passed a few people on the way and tried to act casual as I walked past them. Once in front of the locker room door, I scanned the surroundings to make sure no one saw me enter.

I opened the door and quickly entered. My heart immediately raced when the door closed behind me.

I surveyed the room to find my boyfriend, but no one was there. "Ch-Chris?" I said timidly, gradually moving forward in the room.

No response. Turning my head, I saw Chris's bag on the bench with his lacrosse jersey on it, indicating that he was indeed here. "Not funny, idiot, answer me!" I said, rolling my eyes and starting to walk towards the showers.

Suddenly, I felt hands grab my waist and press me against a wall before feeling his lips crashing onto mine, making me sigh in surprise. "Chris! Oh my god!"

"That's the second time I've scared you today," he said, smiling proudly.

"Yes, and you really need to stop doing it if you don't want me to have a heart attack!" I said, giving him a playful shove to his chest.

I took a moment to admire him; he was shirtless, his hair still damp from the shower he probably just had. "I missed you," he said, reconnecting our lips.

"I missed you too," I replied, running my hand through his hair. "I didn't think you'd manage to score three times," I said in a slightly more timid tone.

"With the right motivation, there are plenty of things I can do," he said, smiling against my lips before removing one of the straps of my top.

"Chris—" I started to say before being cut off by his lips on my neck. "I know we made a deal, but I don't think it's a good idea," I said, unable to hold back small moans escaping my mouth.

"Why?" he asked, sliding his hands over my hips. "You don't seem like you want me to stop, judging by the sounds you're making," I could feel his smile against my neck.

"I don't—" I said, interrupted by a moan when he began nibbling on my neck. "If someone catches us, Chris, I—" I said before being cut off by his hands grabbing the back of my thighs to lift me.

"Don't worry. If you stay quiet, there's no reason anyone will catch us," he said with a smirk before kissing me again, this time our kiss was deeper and more fiery.

I knew it wasn't responsible of me, but his lips on my body only led me astray from the right path. I placed one hand on his shoulder while the other tangled in his hair. "We'll have to do this quickly, though. I don't know how much time we have before the janitor comes to clean the locker rooms," he said with a hungry voice, and I simply nodded.

He led us to the bench to sit next to his bag. His hands gripped my hips, making me moan once again, and I started moving my hips against his, making him groan in return. "I fucking missed this pussy. I can't wait any longer," he said, licking his lips, and indeed, I could feel his rock-hard cock through his joggers rubbing against my panties.

He came to grasp my throat in his hand, kissing me more fiercely than before, making me moan in surprise. This time was different, less gentle than the first, but equally pleasing. I couldn't help but squirm and moan, craving to feel him inside me again. "Shhh," he said, separating our lips.

"I'm sorry, it's just that—" I began before feeling his grip on my ass strengthen.

"It's just that what?" he said with a smirk. "Don't be all shy with me ma; tell me, or I'll stop now," he added, removing his hands from my ass.

"No, don't!" I said in a heated sigh before guiding his hands back to where they were, and he smiled. "It's just that I really need you now," I said timidly, and he immediately kissed me again.

His hands left my ass to remove his joggers and boxers, lifting his hips slightly, pressing his erection even closer to me, causing another moan to escape my lips.

"Y/n, you really need to make less noise than that," he chuckled, readjusting himself.

"Sorry," I said, blushing and looking down at his sizeable member. Not to brag, but in my eyes, it was rather large, and I was afraid that without any foreplay, his entrance might be painful.

"I won't enter before stretching you a bit, baby, don't worry," he chuckled before bringing his hand between our bodies.

He slid my panties to the side before inserting a finger inside me while looking at me with his beautiful blue eyes.

I tried to stifle a moan when he immediately added a second finger, making me furrow my brows and cling to his shoulder. "You're so beautiful, y/n," he said, moving his fingers inside me.

And I couldn't help but move my hips back and forth, hoping to feel him even deeper inside me. "You're such a good girl; look at you riding my fingers like a needy slut," his words prompted another moan to escape my mouth.

His free hand came to surround his member as he started to stroke himself while watching me. "I want to do it," I said, wrapping my hand around him, and he smiled before starting to bend his fingers inside me.

I gradually quickened my hand movements around him, and he threw his head back. "N-no, Chris, look at me," I said, moaning and placing my free hand on his cheek.

"Fuck, I need to be inside of you right now," he said, removing his fingers from me to grab a condom from his bag.

In a few seconds, he opened the condom with his teeth, and I stopped stroking him so he could put it on.

He wasted no time in seizing me by the hips and aligning himself with my entrance. He took care to shift my panties to the side before applying pressure to my hips to enter in one swift motion. "Chris!" I almost screamed, burying my head in his neck.

"Sorry, I couldn't wait any longer, ma," he said, groaning and starting to guide my hips up and down.

"Oh my fuck," I said, moaning and throwing my head back.

He took advantage of the moment to bury his head in my neck and kiss me there. "Chris, I—" I said, moaning, and he quickened the movement, I gently pulled his hair. "This is so good; please don't stop."

"Y/n, someone might hear you; you need to stop moaning like that, shit-" he said, lifting his head towards me and grabbing my chin.

"I don't fucking care, Chris; it feels good. I need you to go faster, please," I said, driven solely by my desires at that moment, and he did what I asked, thrusting from below this time.

He grabbed my hips tightly and started giving me fast and deep thrusts. "Oh my god, yes, right there," I said, dropping my head forward.

"Fuck, y/n, shhh," he said, trying his best to hold back his own moans.

I felt like I had become completely dumb; the only thing I could think of at that moment was Chris inside me. The moans coming from me were out of control, so Chris pressed his hand against my mouth to prevent any sound from escaping.

"God, I wish I didn't have to cover your pretty little mouth right now," he whispered without stopping his thrusts.

My lower abdomen tightened as he began to massage my clit. My eyes rolled back, and my hand instinctively gripped Chris's throat, which seemed to shock him momentarily but didn't displease him, judging by the smile that appeared on his face.

I closed my eyes, feeling my orgasm approaching. With my other hand, I removed Chris's hand from my mouth to warn him, "Baby, I'm really close," I said, moaning.

"Me too, ma, let it go," he said through gritted teeth. I locked eyes with him, my mouth open, refraining from letting my moans escape. Chris's brows were furrowed, and he bit his lips to prevent any noise from escaping.

"Chris, oh my god!" I almost screamed, tightening my grip around his neck, letting my orgasm take over.

"Hold on a little longer; I'm almost there babe," he said, breathless, giving me animalistic thrusts before he, too, reached climax and stopped his movements completely.

I let my head fall against his chest with him still inside me, and we both began to chuckle. "I'm going to need a second shower," he said, laughing.

"Well, we don't have time. You'll take one at your place; I have to go home before my parents get worried." I told him, straightening up and placing my hands around his cheeks.

"Hmm," he simply hummed, caressing my ass and kissing me tenderly.

I stood up, readjusted my skirt and panties, while he disposed of the condom and got dressed on his end. "I'm good?" I asked, wanting him to tell me if I was disheveled or if my clothes were misplaced.

"Mhm," he said, nodding, and we both headed towards the exit.

He grabbed me by the arm to kiss me. "I love you, Chris," I said, breaking our kiss with a big smile.

"I love you, baby," he replied before I turned to open the door and stepped out.

I quickly descended from my little cloud when I opened the door and found myself face to face with Chris's coach, who crossed his arms.

"Y/f/n y/l/n! I wouldn't have expected to run into you here," he said, giving me a judgmental look before Chris came out right after. "Chris Sturniolo, what a surprise!"

I looked at Chris anxiously, hoping he could come up with a miracle solution. "Coach, it's not what you think—" he started before being interrupted.

"I don't want to hear anything. Both of you will explain yourselves to the principal tomorrow. Go home now," he responded.

Oh my god, this time I'm really in trouble...

Masterlist.

[viennakarma]

Satisfaction [Part 2]

PART 2 OF SATISFACTION

Summary: Four times Lewis tried to apologize, and one time he didn't need to.

Word count: 4.3k

Tags: female!reader, apologetic!Lewis (finally), physiotherapist!reader, a little bit of romance, Lewis is trying, reader is more forgiving than the author would be, cursing, a bit angsty, happy ending, not beta read

Relationship: Lewis Hamilton x Reader

Note: I'm so sorry for taking so long with this! I had a writer's block specifically with this one. For everyone who sent me asks about it, I read everything, sorry if I didn't reply to all! Luckily, one dramatic anon sent me an ask saying they would graduate college with a doctorate before this came out, and it made me laugh out loud BUT it actually sparked something in my brain and I managed to write, lol. So, thanks, Dramatic Anon, I owe you one :D

I'm sorry if it's rushed or full of mistakes (haven't had the time to proofread).

Find me on Twitter!

I.

“Hey, Lewis! How are you doing?” Angela said as soon as she picked up his call, and Lewis held his breath before answering.

“Yeah, uh, I’m alright-”, he scratched his face nervously.

“I hope you’re not giving Y/N a hard time anymore, yeah?” Angela joked a little, her voice light.

“Oh. You know about that?”

“Yeah, I called her a few days ago to check in how’s the work and she mentioned you were not very receptive,” Angela said and Lewis noticed that, even saying that, you didn’t call him what he was. A complete prick. “And since she didn’t call again, I assumed things got better between you two.”

“Well, about that-” Lewis sighed, not knowing.

“What?” Angela paused, her voice suddenly serious again.

“She resigned. And it was entirely my fault.” He ripped the band-aid off.

“Lewis, what the actual fuck?!”

“I was awful to her. Way worse than I assume she told you. And before you call me every name under the sun, I need to contact her and apologize. Unfortunately, she blocked my number now, so if you can kindly let me know her address, so I can apologize.”

“You better fix this mess, Lewis.” Angela said before ending the call, as less than a minute later, a text popped up on his screen, your address. Which was in London, not very far from his own neighborhood.

Lewis sent flowers to your place with a small note apologizing and asking you to unblock him. When you didn’t answer and didn’t unblock him, he called the florist he had ordered to double check if you had received the flowers. You did. So you just didn’t want to talk to him. He kept sending a bouquet every day for the next three days. On the fourth day, as he was back home, he decided to go to your place himself.

He brought another bouquet, ringing the bell in your house. He rose the bouquet to cover his face, and he heard your voice, opening.

“Hi there, buddy! If I give you a hundred pounds, would you not bother bringing these flowers here? Just- throw them on the bin or something-” You stopped abruptly as the flowers lowered revealing not the young delivery man who’s been bringing flowers to your place every single day, but Lewis Hamilton himself.

“So you’re not even receiving the flowers?” He asked, sounding hurt.

“I got the first one, and I have no interest in anything that comes from you,” you managed to say, looking him straight in the eyes.

You looked exhausted, your hair was messy and your face lacked any makeup. But worse of all, you looked hurt and angry. 

“Wait, let me just- let me apologize, I can explain even if it’s not-” He dropped the bouquet, pleading.

“Just fuck off, ok? You have not a single reason to be here today.”

“I was an ass to you and-”

“And now we’re nothing. We are just strangers, nothing more, nothing less. Fuck off!” You said and didn’t even give him a second before slamming the door on his face.

II.

So the flowers were a no.

And he wasn’t sure where to go from that, since he couldn’t come up with any other way to make you at least give him a chance to talk.

He was still trying to think of something when he crossed paths with Oscar Piastri during media day. Lewis stopped dead in his tracks as he saw the rookie driver munching on a little protein bar, the package showing it was the same as you had offered him weeks earlier.

“Hey, there, Oscar!” Lewis greeted him, “if you don’t mind me asking. Where did you get this?” He pointed to the little package in his hand.

“Oh, Lando’s new PT! She’s covering for Jon as he’ll be a few weeks on paternity leave.”

“Oh, is she here?”

“At McLaren, yes.”

Lewis nodded, going straight there, not bothering with explaining why he was there just walking in. He found you in a small room with Lando. You were guiding him through a stretching session with a silicone stretching. Lando was telling you something and you were laughing, a hand on his shoulder as Lando pulled his arms in and out.

“-no way you said that! Poor thing, she must have been scared!” You said, then you two laughed.

You were looking healthier than the last few times he had seen you. You looked like you had been sleeping well, and your hair was pretty, and you were wearing make up.

As Lewis approached, and you noticed his presence, you stopped laughing, face getting serious and focused on Lando.

“Oh, hey man!” Lando greeted him, smiley and unaware of the thing between you two.

“Hi. Y/N, can I talk to you? I just need one minute then I’ll leave you alone.”

You scoffed but didn’t look at him, and Lando looked from your face to Lewis’ confused with the tension suddenly so thick he would be able to cut it with a knife.

“Y/N, can you just-”

“You’re all good, Lando. Tomorrow we do another session an hour before Free Practice, and then a stretching session between FP1 and FP2.”

Lando nodded, unsure of what to do so he just watched as you turned away and packed your bag, leaving with long strides through the door. 

“Mate, I don’t know what the fuck you did, because I’ve never seen her be mean ever since I met her. Good luck, though, seems like you need it.” Lando said, leaving to the opposite side.

Lewis muttered “fuck” before going after you. He found you outside the motorhome, and ran up to block your path, but he miscalculated and you ended up running straight into him.

“What the fuck? Dude, just leave me alone!” You tried walking past him but he blocked you again.

“Please, I’m so sorry! Really, I am, I was such a dick to you and you didn’t deserve any of that.”

You didn’t look at his eyes, adjusting your bag as you sighed.

“I just- I don’t understand why you are doing this. I’m no one, I’m nothing. Just go on about your life.”

“No, no- You’re not nothing. I’m really sorry for the way I treated you when all you offered me was kindness.”

“Fine! Ok.” you muttered, seemingly exhausted, “Can I go now?”

He knew you didn’t actually forgive him, so he just let you go because he didn’t want to pressure you into something you were visibly not ready for. It didn’t mean he would give up, just that he needed a different approach.

III.

Lewis managed to find out that you’d stay a few more weeks working with Lando, so he arranged a well crafted plan to have you listen to him.

Desperate times asked for desperate measures.

So he managed to talk Lando into letting him drive you to the track that weekend, you two would have time to talk on the drive. He waited behind the wheel watching as you went to the backseat to leave your bags, then you opened the passenger door, smiling and chatting. But you stopped smiling as soon as you sat down and noticed him.

“What are you doing here?” You asked, sounding more annoyed than angry.

“I’m your ride to the track today.”

“I’d rather not,” you muttered, removing the seat belt you had just put on.

“There’s no one else to take you there, please, just let us go,” he asked softly. You sighed, putting on the seat belt again and he smiled reaching the cup holder and offering you a cup of coffee, “got you a coffee.”

“Thanks,��� you took it begrudgingly, but as you took a sip, you noticed it was your favorite, “how do you know I like this coffee?”

“You told me, during one of our sessions.”

“I thought you weren’t listening to a single word I said,” you scoffed, almost disdainful. He took it, because taking your anger was little compared to what he did to you.

“I listened to you.”

“Weird way of showing, then.”

You stared at the road he was softly driving. You didn’t like his company, that much was clear, but he was on a mission, and he would be damned if he wasn’t going to properly apologize. 

“I don’t even know why you treated me like trash,” you muttered suddenly, sniffling like you were trying to contain the tears, “just- I was so happy, you know? I’ve always been a fan of Formula 1, watched it growing up and everything. Then I get here all happy to achieve the greatest dream and I just get treated like shit from day one. I tried to be funny, I tried to be kind, I tried to be silent, and none of it worked. I don’t understand what you want from me now! I’m a person too, ok? I get sad and frustrated, and I have my own problems, but I don’t go around making everyone else’s lives shit just because I’m mad!”

“Yes, you are right. I treated you like shit when you never deserved it. I really regret it, for what it's worth,” He sighed, looking at you for a moment before focusing on the road, “my life was shit. I know it’s not an excuse, but it’s the truth. I was just coming out of a relationship that I thought meant a lot to me, and I just lost Angela, who is one of my closest friends, and I was on the verge of losing my seat. It felt like everything was going wrong for a few weeks.”

That made you pause, turning to stare at him.

“What do you mean, losing your seat?” You sounded genuinely curious, and even a little worried.

“The negotiations for a new contract weren’t going ahead, and I was really worried Mercedes was going to get rid of me.”

“But you’re like- one of the GOATs! Why would they lose you?” Now you sounded exasperated, like you couldn't believe that. 

“Well, now everything is alright and signed, but it felt like I was really at risk back then.”

You stayed silent for a few minutes, mulling over his words, trying to wrap your head around his excuses. You were thoughtful the rest of the drive, until Lewis pulled up in a parking lot at the track. Finally, you nodded to yourself.

“I forgive you, Lewis. Just- Don’t do that to anyone ever again, it’s not cool,” you said, unlocking the seat belt, “thank you for the ride and for the effort in apologizing. Goodbye, Lewis.”

You took your bags from the backseat and left after waving at him again. It felt like a closed chapter to you, and you could bury whatever resentment you felt towards him. It was freeing in a way.

IV.

Lewis didn’t see you for a couple more race weeks, despite casually walking in front of McLaren’s garage and hospitality. He couldn’t catch a glimpse of you and he genuinely worried that your last goodbye was definitive.

Fortunately he saw you again late at night after a race. Almost everyone had left already, and Lewis had a long debriefing meeting with his team, so it was sheer luck to find you on the way to the parking lot, where you were standing against the wall, hugging yourself under a big coat and holding your bags. You seem worried and unwell.

“Hey,” he said, trying to sound like he wasn’t ecstatic to see you again, “are you ok?”

“Yeah, um- I missed my ride back to the hotel, so I’m trying for an uber or something,” you said, but Lewis unnoticed how you were pale and your lips looked dry.

“Are you sure you’re ok? You look like you’re about to pass out.” He pointed, and you breathed in, slowly. You felt very, very cold, with shivers up your body that you miserably trying to contain.

“I’ve got a little fever,” you mentioned, finally. Lewis raised his hand and touched your forehead, feeling it way more warm than a little fever.

“Little fever? You’re burning!” He exclaimed, putting his own Mercedes coat over you, then taking your bags and putting them over his shoulder, “Come on, I’ll give you a ride back.”

“You don’t have to, really-”

“I’m not leaving you here in the late hours of the night while having a fever! Now, come on!”

He held your forearm, worried you’d stumble and fall or something. With a big umbrella to face the rain, he guided you to his car, where a driver was waiting. The two of you sat on the backseat as Lewis instructed the driver to take you to the hotel.

“Should we take you to see a doctor or something?” Lewis asked.

“No, don’t worry, I already took an antipyretic. It should work soon.”

Back in the hotel, Lewis accompanied you up to your room even when you wanted to refuse, but he said he was worried, and it felt honest, so you let him take you up. He didn’t let you say anything as he pushed the door of your room and walked you inside.

“Are you still feeling cold?” He asked.

“Yes,” you put your bags away, but you watched as Lewis went into your luggage, “um- excuse me?” you crossed your arms, annoyed at him going through your things.

“Change into this, it will keep you warm,” he tossed you a sweater and matching pants, “I’ll ask room service for soup, so you can warm up.”

Huffing, you went into the bathroom and changed, glad because you were in fact a little bit warmer. You wore socks for the cold and got into bed, where Lewis helped tuck you in, pulling the duvet tight around you.

“Why are you doing all this? We’re just strangers, Lewis.” You shook your head, watching as he walked around the bed and sat beside you over the duvet.

“We’re not strangers, and I wanted to help,” he shrugged.

“We are strangers, we know nothing about each other,” you muttered.

“Well, I’m Lewis, my favorite color is purple and I have a dog named Roscoe,” he said which made you chuckle a little, “there, not strangers anymore.”

“Well, I’m Y/N, my favorite color is yellow and I don’t have a pet yet, but hopefully soon.”

Lewis eyed you carefully.

“I know you’re with McLaren on a temporary contract, so I was wondering if you’d be willing to come back to Mercedes after that,” he said, slowly. You sighed, shaking your head.

“I won’t go back, Lewis.” You said softly, for him to know you weren’t angry anymore, but the world had spun, life went on…

“But- Ellie said you were such a big fan! It’s ok if you don’t want to work with me anymore, I’ll understand. But I don’t think it’s fair that you lose your chance in such a big dream because of an asshole like me!”

“There are always other dreams to have, Lewis. When a door closes, others may open,” you untucked your arm so you could hold his arm in comfort. He held your hand, and when he felt your cold hand, he rubbed it softly, to warm you up.

“It’s not fair-”

“Lewis, I’m moving to Madrid in a few weeks.”

He stopped, visibly deflated hearing your words.

“I’m so sorry, I should’ve never-”

“Lewis, it’s not because of you,” you pushed the duvet, freeing yourself so you could sit up beside him, backs to the headboard, “I got an amazing offer from Real Madrid. I’m gonna join their PT team.”

“Oh.”

His stomach dropped once again, thinking that life would lead you two different paths, new future, new plans, and Lewis won’t even be able to make it up to you through time as he was hoping for. Lewis expected that, with you coming back to Mercedes, he would have time to apologize with actions, more than just words.

“They’re my favorite football team, and I’ve always dreamed of getting there,” when you noticed how down he was with the news of your departure, you pressed his hand a bit more, “I told you there are many dreams to achieve.”

“You wouldn’t have to worry about it if I hadn’t been so-”

“That’s enough, Lewis, it has nothing to do with you. This is my choice, something that I also dreamed of. It’s not the end of the world. If anything, there are lessons in what we went through.”

He wanted to ask you to stay, to give him and the Mercedes dream one more chance, but he knew it would be selfish of him to ask that. And he wasn’t willing to be selfish with you anymore. He would only have maybe a few more weeks with you, that he intended to nurture a friendship with you.

When your soup arrived, he stayed and watched you eat, and you thanked him profusely as the meds started working and you felt the fever dissipating.

V.

Lewis ended up going back to McLaren to find you all the time. Sometimes he brought a coffee for you, some other times he just wanted to invite you to lunch, or he wanted a protein bar, and after almost two weeks of that, his excuses ran dry and he only said he wanted to check on you. and he had been checking on you for a couple more weeks now.

“So…” Lando muttered with a knowing smirk, “you and Lewis, uh?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you said, as you spotted Lando from behind, analyzing his squats.

“You went from hating him to becoming his friend pretty quickly,” Lando pointed.

“And…?”

“I don’t know but he’s here all the time to see you.”

“Nah, he’s just passing by.”

Lando let go of teasing you and switched topics to talk about something else for the remainder of your session. After you finished and Lando went for the post race debrief, you were getting ready to leave when Lewis found you again.

“What do you want?” You squinted your eyes at him. Lando’s teasing voice still in your head.

“Moody, are we?” Lewis joked, crossing his arms and leaning against the wall.

“Lewis.”

“Fine, fine! I’m taking you to dinner later today, ok?”

“Are you asking me out or demanding?” You frowned, pretending to be moody.

“I’m inviting you and implying I’m not taking no for an answer,” He winked.

“Lewis, I don’t think we-”

“Think of it as a farewell, celebratory dinner, yes? You’re leaving so soon to Madrid! Pretty please?” He joined both hands like he was begging.

“Fine. Stop pouting.” You rolled your eyes and he giggled, before leaving.

He texted you two hours later saying he was coming to pick you up. You dressed cozy and comfortable, since it was absolutely not a date. He texted you to let you know he was downstairs when you were finishing with your hair. As soon as you got in the car, you checked Lewis’ outfit.

“Is this ok?” You asked, pointing at yourself.

“It’s perfect.”

Lewis drove for forty minutes to the next town over. In the end, he took you to a cozy restaurant, small, a little cramped but so familial and cozy. You two sat in a corner booth, far from the windows. You went over the menu as Lewis explained that this place’s food tasted homemade and they also had vegan options, so he always went there whenever he was in that part of Italy.

You told Lewis everything about your move, how you had found a great apartment close to work, how you had enrolled in Spanish classes to start a month after your arrival, and everything.

After a hearty meal and chatting a lot, you two decided to go for a walk to eat some ice cream. The air was windy but not very cold, so you just walked side by side a little late at night.

“Are you sure nobody will see us?” You looked around to see if anyone had recognised him or had taken pictures.

“Yes, it’s very discreet in this part of town. Besides, it’s a little late, so not many people are around.”

“This is a very good gelato, Lewis! Thanks for taking me out today.” You muttered as the two of you walked around a big, dark park. You stood under a lamp post, finishing the last of your ice cream.

“How are you feeling about Madrid?” He asked you, looking interested.

“Nervous. Excited. I don’t know.” You whispered, smiling, you held the lamp post and let it take your weight as you flung around, all smiley because of the bit of wine you had at the restaurant, “It’s like a new adventure. You know when you’re about to do something that might be risky but gratifying? You’re scared but you have to-”

As you completed a full 360 around the lamp post, you were met with Lewis walking up to you and kissing you. He pressed his lips to yours, firm but tender, and it took you a while to assimilate what was happening. You held his coat and pushed him away only enough to break the kiss. The lime gelato kiss that had your stomach full of butterflies, and your heart beating almost out of its cage.

“Lewis-” you shook your head, still confused.

“Sorry, I- I just couldn’t pass on the opportunity,” he sighed and his breath fanned your cheek.

“We shouldn’t,”

“Why not?” He raised one hand to cradle your face, his thumb running your cheek.

“Because we started too messy. And- and I’m leaving soon. We don’t need to complicate things.”

You whispered, still not pulling away fully. You wanted it, so bad. But you knew you couldn’t get tangled in a messy situationship right before leaving. He was tempting, but you weren’t willing to risk whatever time was left of your silly little friendship.

So you took a step back. Still, you took his hand in yours, letting his warmth engulf you.

“Sorry,” he cleared his throat, but you just smiled at him, seeing how he was memorizing your face, and how your eyes were shining bright for him.

“It’s ok. Just, wrong place and wrong time, right?”

He gulped, nodding.

You didn’t kiss again, but Lewis held your hand the whole drive back to Monza.

Understandably, Lewis didn’t come back for your last week at McLaren. Despite being a little hurt about his absence, it didn’t really upset you, deep down you knew that it was better like this. The distance would make the goodbye easier for the man who wormed his way into your life. The whole team at McLaren gave you a farewell cake, which was sweet considering you were just a temporary hire.

You had tears in your eyes saying goodbye to the team and to the formula 1 track.

After that, you went back to London to finish packing, and shipping a few of your furniture and belongings. The dinner with your family and closest friends was filled with tears, and you finally caught up with Angela, explaining everything that had happened.

When the day came, your parents and siblings took you to the airport and you said goodbye with teary eyes and a heavy heart.

You were about to board when a sudden commotion caught your attention, and from between the crowd Lewis Hamilton emerged, running towards you as if he were in a marathon. Confused and shocked, you waited for him to get closer, and as soon as he stopped in front of you, he held your face with both hands and pulled you in a kiss. After two seconds, you returned the kiss, deepening it by opening your lips. He devoured you for a couple more seconds, before pulling away when you were both panting.

“Lewis? What the fuck?”

“This doesn’t have to be a goodbye, right? We can- I don’t know, we can figure it out,” He muttered, face close to you.

“Lewis,” you hesitated, “I’m moving away. We’ll spend most of out time in different time zones-”

“Wouldn’t you like to try? It’s better to try than spend our lives haunted by what ifs” His argument was convincing. And the fact that he was just centimeters from your face, and the fact that you had just kissed and his cologne was divine… Very tempting.

“Lewis, the next time you cause a scene in front of an entire airport, I’m killing you,” you whispered, pecking his lips once more as the crowd dissipated of people boarding the plane.

“I wanted it to be memorable, like a romcom.”

“You’re annoying, that’s what you are. You’re lucky you’re handsome” You rolled your eyes, but Lewis could still see the big smile on your face, eyes glinting.

“Is that a yes to my question?”

“One date, Hamilton. And we’ll see where it will go from that” You smiled, pushing his chest, taking a step back.

“I’m going to Madrid as soon as the triple header is over,” He promised, pulling you close again by the waist.

“You better! I don’t know, maybe I will meet a handsome Spaniard,” You joked, playing hard to get. You closed the distance so you could whisper in his ear, “You better work if you want any prize, pretty boy.”

He gasped at your seductive words, and you pushed him away. He smiled at you. Pulling one of his necklaces, he put it around your neck, a pearl one, very beautiful. The airport called all the passengers for the flight.

“A promise. Yeah?” He said, holding the necklace softly.

“Yeah. See you soon?” You nodded.

“See you soon.”

He watched as you walked away, and before boarding, you turned around and blew him a kiss. He laughed, pretending it hit him right over his heart.

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[saintgoo]

Three ways to say "I love you" ☆

PAIRING: JJ Maybank x Fem!Reader

GENRE: Fluff, Hurt/Comfort

WARNINGS: None

A/N: it's literally so cold so all I can do is go under the blankets and write stuff😫 enjoy!!!

Summary: The three times JJ showed how much he loved you without needing to say it.

wc: 1.5k ★ ... masterlist ★ ... taglist

ONE:

The waves were choppy, the sea sounded like thunder bathed in the lunar light. The pogues had just returned from a party at a nearby beach, too drunk to go home alone, they all decided to sleep at John B's chateau.

Sarah and John B were playing tag when they arrived, going to the beachfront even though it was night. "What are they doing?" Pope questioned, leaving his backpack next to the residence stairs. Kiara shrugged and looked at them. “Too drunk and too in love by the way it looks.”

You left your bag next to Pope's, sitting on the stairs to take off your shoes that had been bothering you since the party. You looked around to locate your boyfriend, only to be met with nothing. “Yo, where’s JJ?” You furrowed your eyebrows.

"Over there, by the water's edge," Pope replied, nodding toward the shore. "He said somethin’ about skipping rocks in the moonlight."

“Oh god, he's going to end up hurting himself in the way he is” You laughed “I'll make sure he doesn't fall or anything.”

You strode down to the water's edge, feet sinking into the cool wet sand as the waves lapped at your ankles. Up ahead, JJ's silhouette swayed in the pale glow of the moon as he lifted rocks from the shoreline.

"Hey, any luck skipping those?" you called out.

"The stone glides smoothly acroszz the sssurface," JJ slurred, flinging another pebble haphazardly into the surf. "Not a sssingle bounce to be found."

"Maybe ease up on the liquor there, dude" you chuckled. "At this rate the only thing getting skipped is you if you keep pitching rocks into the tide."

JJ squinted at you through blue eyes, a crooked grin emerging. "You tryin' to steal my thunder, [Name]? Think you c'n do better?"

You rolled your eyes playfully, not wanting to provoke the drunk boy. “Oh no, honey. I'll never be better than you... don't you think it's better to go back to the chateau and do this tomorrow? It’s too late.”

“But it's still early!" JJ exclaimed dramatically, a pout on his lips like a child. You walked close to him, taking the rock from his hand and wrapping your arms around his neck. “It’s already 2 am, let’s go in, bae.”

You dropped the stone on the ground and grabbed his hand, trying to take him to the chateau, but he had another idea as he gently pulled you by the hand and collided you with him, grabbing you by the hips and throwing you onto his shoulders.

“JJ, put me down now!” You cried between laughs, feeling your clothes being soaked as they were impacted by the waves.

“Oh darling, don't be like that, the sea is callin’ uss…” he smiled, throwing you into the water without warning, holding your waist as he drowned in laughter.

You emerged from the water, your hair wet and your makeup smudged. You tried to look angry, but quickly failed to let your smile appear, pointing your finger at him accusingly. “You're so dead, Maybank!”

“You wouldn't lay a finger on me, doll” he said, suddenly sounding sober. He pulled you by the waist your bodies collided.

Your clothes clung heavily to your skin as JJ pulled you against his frame, the crashing waves swirling about your tummy.

"And just what do you think you're doing, Maybank?" you narrowed your eyes, though his proximity made your breath quicken.

JJ fixed you with a piercing blue stare, fingers tracing idle patterns along your waist. "Dunno, just feel like dancin' under the moonlight with my girl."

You sucked in a breath as his touch sent sparks through your dampened limbs. "Oh? And since when have I been 'your girl'?"

A low chuckle rumbled in JJ's chest. "Since the moment I laid eyes on you, darlin." His head dipped lower, hot breath ghosting your lips.

Heart pounding, you tangled your hands in his sodden shirt, desire and irritation warring within. "You insufferable ass, I fucking hate you."

Your words hovered between you, anticipation crackling in the narrow space that remained. Then, slowly, mercilessly, JJ's smiling mouth met your own in a searing kiss that made the bay's icy waters feel balmy by comparison.

When you broke apart, you were quick to hide your face in his neck. “I look like a mess…” your voice muffled by JJ’s wet clothes.

He removed your face from his neck, lifting your gaze as he placed his finger on your chin. “The prettiest mess.”

TWO:

Warmth enveloped you as consciousness slowly emerged from the fog of sleep. Blinking blearily, memories of the previous night came rushing back.

A smile crept onto your lips as you burrowed deeper into firm muscle and cotton sheets. JJ's steady breathing stirred your damp hair, his arms secure about your bare waist. You turned gently in his hold to glimpse his face, relaxed in slumber. He looked years younger sans smirk or swagger, boyish features softened in repose.

Trailing light fingers across his stubbled jaw, you pondered how you had arrived at this moment. JJ had always stirred something primal within - thrilling yet terrifying in equal measure. But beneath his rough exterior beat a heart of gold, a loyalty you couldn't help but crave.

As the morning sun crested over the horizon, JJ began to stir. Those fathomless blue eyes blinked open, drowsy and confused at first, then lighting with joy upon meeting your gaze.

"Mornin', beautiful," he rasped, sleep rough voice sending shivers down your spine.

"Morning," you smiled shyly, still half expecting this moment of intimacy to dissipate like a dream upon waking.

But JJ only held you closer, nuzzling his nose against your neck until you dissolved into giggles. "Sleep well?"

"Best I've had in ages," you admitted softly. Fingers trailing down his chest, you traced swirling patterns over tan skin and ropey muscle.

JJ shuddered almost imperceptibly at your touch, large hands tracing your own curves with featherlight reverence. "Last night...this morning...everything just feels right with you, like I'm exactly where I'm meant to be."

Your heart swelled almost painfully at the rare display of vulnerability in those crystalline eyes. "Oh JJ..."

Cupping your jaw, he locked your gazes with an intensity that stole your breath. "You're my everything, [Name].”

You hugged him that morning, feeling all the emotions flow through your body electrically. The rest, as they say, is history.

THREE:

You kicked off your shoes aggressively enough to leave a mark on your heel. Fresh tears spilled from your eyes and soaked your entire face.

You let small sobs escape as you made your way to your bed, letting your body slump and your face sink into the pillow pathetically.

You needed that job. All your sleepless nights working in that restaurant for nothing, the senseless scolding you heard from your boss for nothing. Your father was going to kill you when he found out that you had wiped out your only source of money, and you were slowly falling into despair knowing that that night he would come home and you would have to tell him the news.

Exhausted, you let the tears come out unhindered. At some point, your door opened revealing JJ, who already knew you had been fired when you told him via text. He had a bag of sweets in his hands, and when he saw your condition, he dropped it on the floor and walked towards you, climbing on top of you and placing his face in the crook of your neck.

JJ's body curled protectively around yours as you wept, soaking the collar of his shirt with tears. He gripped you tightly, as if willing his strength to seep into your bones through sheer force of will.

"Shhh, I've got you darlin', just let it out," he whispered into your hair. His hands traced soothing circles over your quaking form, lingering in all the places he knew could ease tension from your aching muscles.

Slowly, your sobs began to peter out, exhaustion leeching the will to despair from your pores. But where the anguish had seeped away, JJ's steady presence flooded in to fill the void - his sturdy warmth, the callouses of his palms, familiar scent of sea and motor oil wrapped around your senses like a security blanket.

As your breathing calmed, JJ leaned back just enough to cup your swollen face between his hands and press kisses to each damp eyelid. "Look at me, sweetheart. We're gonna fix this, you hear? Fuck that bastard boss of yours. I'm here with you, okay? Always."

His blue eyes shone with defiance, determination to lift you where you could not yourself. And in that gaze you found solace, an anchor when the world felt tipped. Clinging to his shirt, you nodded tiredly. He wiped away your remaining tears, smiling and kissing your forehead gently, hugging you in that moment.

Send me a request! ☆

[am-i-interrupting]

Affection | Vox x Fem!Reader

Summary: Vox and Valentino get into it. Vox looks for a way to get payback and stumbles upon you. He didn’t expect you to actually care.

Warnings: sex work, a bit of a mommy kink

He was used to the petty yelling, the constant spats, even the object throwing. What crossed the line was when he had to replace his screen.

Vox and Valentino got into a lot of arguments, normally started by the latter instead of the former. This one was bad though. Vox didn’t even want to think about it but it was all that was on his mind.

He was angry.

He was angry because it was easier to be angry rather than something else, something more vulnerable. He didn’t want to and couldn’t afford to be vulnerable right now. He had to hold onto this anger so he didn’t go crawling back to Valentino.

Currently, he was at his desk, looking through documents about ads that were just waiting for Vox’s stamp of approval. He stumbled upon yours and he paused.

He recognized you. Why?

He copied your name into a search bar and looked at your Sinstagram profile. Flipping through the pictures, he found one of you at a bar and that’s when he remembered.

Valentino tried to contract you and you’d basically laughed at him. You’d tossed back a shot and then turned to Valentino, asking if he needed you to pay for it since he was clearly so desperate for new recruits as he was only preying on people too stupidly drunk to realize how bad of an idea it was to say yes. Oh, he remembered Valentino seething that night.

He approved your ad but he couldn’t get you out of his head. He opened the closed tag again as he actually read through your ad.

You were advertising music. Which, when say side by side with your Sinstagram made sense as he saw a picture of you with Verosika Mayday. There wasn’t really anything interesting on the advert.

He scrolled up to the top of your Sinstagram in order to look at them in order from most to least relevant. That is when he caught sight of a link in your bio. He clicked it.

He was brought to a website. He wasn’t sure what he expected but he did raise an eyebrow nonetheless. It was an escort sight. A home page that had you and several other people scantily dressed with a description of what every person and the services you offered.

Maybe he was being more vindictive than he thought because he immediately clicked on the tab that sent him to your page and booked a time with you.

It was far out, months away in fact. He honestly had forgotten about it until he got an email the week before asking if he was still available and inviting him to a pre-session consultation. Not willing to back out and have it potentially mess with his image, he made the time.

He logged into a video call several days later and was greeted with you in the middle of putting on your makeup.

“Well, hello, Mr. Vox,” you said with a soft purr. He replied with a formal greeting of your name. “You’re a busy guy and I’m a busy gal so I’ll keep this quick. This is just a little meeting for boundaries. I know it bothers some people to make them in person so I’ve found this to be an easier way.

“I’ll go first. No hickies, no bruises, no scratches, no cuts, no burns, just no marks. It might be pretty and fun in the moment but it costs me later. Not everyone enjoys having sex with someone who’s clearly had it with someone else not long before. It may be part of my work but people do like an illusion.

“I don’t do bondage where I’m the one tied up. It’s nothing personal, just a safety issue. On the topic of safety, if you bring in anything that could be used as a weapon. I’m done and you’re leaving. All I need from you is that pretty little body of yours and payment. I’ll provide the rest.

“On the topic of payment, I know you’ve already made your upfront payments for this little consultation. The rest can be brought when you come in cash. Any questions so far?”

He surprised himself by saying, “Not so far, no.”

You we’re far more thorough than he thought. He’d bought time before but it was never this professionally done, even by Valentino’s standards. Granted, with Valentino’s sex workers, there was really only one rule, payment upfront. He didn’t give a fuck about anything else.

You though? You had clearly given this a lot of thought on all parts.

“Good, I’m glad,” you said. “Those are my hard rules. Everything else is a little more flexible. So, tell me, what is it you want from tonight?”

“To have a good time.”

“Of course, we all want to have a good time, Vox, but I’m talking specifics. Don’t be naive,” you said. “I have full confidence you know better. Maybe it’d be easier if I told you what I’m best at.”

The lid of your lipstick clicked closed. You looked at the camera, looking at him directly on his screen by proxy, for the first time.

“I can do just about anything your cold, dead heart desires but I enjoy specific things more than others. I’m a bit of a dominatrix, I’d you will. I enjoy the power and control of giving people what they need instead of what they want. How does that sound to you?”

“It sounds to me like a very overlord thing to do,” he replied.

“Not there yet,” you said. “So, is that the role you prefer to play?”

“It’s one I play often.”

“Yes, I’ve gathered that but do you prefer it?”

Vox didn’t know why he didn’t just say yes. He should have. It went with his image to say yes and that’s why he was still agreeing to do this even though he and Valentino weren’t on the worst of terms right now.

He hadn’t crawled back to Valentino yet. It’d been one of their longer spells away from one another. Five months without even falling back into bed once.

Perhaps that’s why he said what he said. He was pent up. He hadn’t had time to unwind and the person he normally would go to for that he was still upset with. That’s the reason he’d go with anyway.

“It’s the role I play most often,” he said.

“But is it the role you like?” you asked. When he didn’t answer you smiled, a more genuine one than any flirty or sarcastic one you’d shot his way before. “Stubborn, I’ll keep that noted.”

“I am not—“

“You’re proving my point. Now,” you stood up and rummaged through a drawer he couldn’t see, “pick a set for me.”

For the next several hours, Vox felt like he couldn’t focus. He was nervous. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d been nervous over a one night stand.

He left early, leaving his assistant with double the workload but he didn’t care. He just needed to be out of the building.

He took Vark out on a walk to pass time but it still went by so slowly. It took what felt like days for it to finally be time to leave.

He’d call it considerate that he left without his usual suit jacket, waistcoat, and tie but in reality, he felt so hot, constricted with them on.

He traveled through the cameras and arrived at the address he’d been given, not a single person having seen him.

He knocked on the door and that sense of security was promptly shattered when it opened and he heard someone say, “Holy shit!” in response to seeing him.

He glared at the offending person as he stepped in. He recognized them from being pictured on your website. They quickly spun around and continued doing whatever it was they were in the process of.

He was led to a room which when opened revealed you inside. You were wearing a shear robe that gave him a peak at what was hiding underneath.

“I was promised secrecy,” he said. “Not to be gawked at by the employees.”

“So you don’t want to be gawked at me?” you asked. You smiled at your own joke. “Everyone here is under contracted lock and key to not say a single word about what goes on inside these walls. You’re image will be fine.”

“Contracted?”

“You said I had the makings of an overlord,” you replied. “Why are you suddenly surprised that I have contracts? Don’t worry, I assure you they’re much more ethically sourced than your co-worker’s.”

He rolled his eyes.

“Speaking of,” you said as you took several steps towards him, “why are you here? I’d imagine you could have any of Valentino’s contracted cash free. Why waste it on me? I’m not exactly cheap.”

You held out your hand and he reached into a pocket to retrieve the other part of your payment. You swiftly began counting it.

“You fuck one of Valentino’s pets, you’ve fucked them all,” he said. “They’re all too scared to be any fun after a while.”

“As much as I know that’s a true statement—“ you put the cash in a drawer of the bedside table— “I don’t believe it.”

He felt his eye twitch. “And what exactly would you—“

“Why don’t you take off your shirt and lay on the bed?” You walked towards him and ran your hands up his torso. “Or I could take it off for you.”

You began unbuttoning his shirt and for some reason, it made him drop all his irritation. When you finished, you bent down and licked all the way up his torso. You kissed and nipped at his collar bone.

His hands went to your sides but you spatted them away. The shirt fell to the ground.

You looked up at him, like you were daring him to kiss you. However, when he went to do just that, you stepped away.

“On the bed face down, mister,” you told him.

He huffed. Despite his mind telling him to grab you and pull you in for a kiss, take you and remind you of who exactly you were messing with, his body followed your instructions.

The mattress dipped as you straddled him. Something popped open (he tensed), a bottle clinked as it was set on the table, and then the sound of you rubbing your hands together went through the air.

Your hands, warm against his skin and slick with oil, began to rub up and down his back.

“Why are you here, Vox?” you asked. “I’m not stupid. I keep up with the news. Did you think I wouldn’t notice that the day you made an appointment was the same day you updated your status to single again? It’s still single now so what happened?”

“Nothing happened,” he said.

“Uh-huh, and the fact that you visibly tensed as soon as I mentioned Valentino is just a coincidence,” you said. “Everything you say in these walls stays within them.”

“You’re the one who made the contracts,” he said. “You’re not under them.”

“True, but—“

You began to apply pressure with your thumb, grinding your thumb and hand in circles along his back.

“Oh, fuck.”

“—I also made them,” you said, basically repeating his words. “It means I place value in confidentiality.”

“Or covering you’re own— oh, fuck, right there— your own ass.”

“I could be.”

You leaned down and he felt toy trap his entire torso beneath you. He liked the feeling. He liked the feeling of you over him.

You got close to his face, “But I think we both know I’m not.” You moved back and he mourned the feeling as soon as it was gone. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. You’re just very obviously tense and not just physically.”

You punctuated your sentence by rolling the palm of your hand at the base of his neck before squeezing it lightly. He couldn’t hold back a moan at the feeling of some tension leaving his body.

You continued on like that in silence for a while. You were working out the knots in his muscles and he was basically putty beneath your hands.

He’d never been treated like this before. He had couldn’t remember the last time he felt loose. There was always some kind of feeling of unease he constantly carried.

He didn’t even know he needed this because he’d never known that he could have it.

You leaned to once again lay over him but this time he could feel the entire weight of your body instead of just your warmth. You wrapped your arms underneath his shoulders and placed a kiss to his neck.

“Are you alright to continue?” you asked him as you nuzzled against his shoulder blade.

“I—“ He tried to search for some witty or snarky remark to make but all he could come up with was, “Yes.”

You cooed at him and slipped your hands out from underneath him to rub his back as you got off him. “Using your words, what a good boy,” you said and he hated, hated how that made him feel so warm inside. “Can you turn around for me? Yes, good.”

He closed his eyes and refused to look at you. You laughed but it didn’t feel mean. That didn’t make him feel any less embarrassed, however.

You did a wider, full handed version of the back massage you’d given him to his front as you began to roll your hips against his. He couldn’t hold back a whine.

“Oh, so pretty,” you said. “Such pretty noises from such a pretty boy.”

“Fuck,” it came out weak and pathetic.

Well, it was fitting then because that’s how he felt, weak and pathetic. Such simply praise shouldn’t be so effective.

“How does that feel?” you asked. “Come on, be a good boy. Tell me. Tell me how to make you feel good, baby.”

You were kissing on his neck and shoulders now.

“Good,” he choked out.

You hummed against his skin.

He could feel his fingers flex. His arms moved. He stopped them. He wanted to touch. He should be able to touch. He should be able to do what he wanted. He was the fucking Vox, overlord and creator of the biggest tech company in Hell. He shouldn’t need permission to do something.

You grabbed his hands and brought them up to the knot of your robe.

“You can touch me, baby,” you told him.

A whine forced its way out of his throat no matter how much he tried to keep it at bay.

He opened his eyes and you were so beautiful, grinding against him like you were made to. He could feel his cock straining against his pants. He wanted them off.

He settled for untying your robe. It fell to reveal the deep blue set he’d chosen for you earlier that day. It was sheer enough to show off your nipples through the cross crossed pattern of the bra. There was a silver chain that draped between the cups and further framed your breasts. Some traps went around your torso as part of the garter belt which held up your similarly colored stockings. You looked gorgeous.

You laughed and guided his hands up to your waist. Then up to your tits.

“I love the way you keeping whining for me,” you said. “You’re like a little pup.” Your eyes honed on his neck and your hand followed your gaze. You pressed on his neck, just enough to add some pressure. “That neck of yours looks like it was made to be collared and leashed.”

“Oh fuck.”

You leaned closer to his face. “Would you like that, baby?”

His fingers twitched around your breasts. He rubbed his thumbs over your clothes nipples as a silent apology. “Please.”

“Oh, such good manners.” You applied more pressure to his neck, not enough to cut off his air supply. He arched into your touch. “But not tonight. Some other time, I promise. I’ve got a feeling I’ll be seeing you plenty, baby.”

You went to nip at his neck. His hands wrapped around to your back to hold you in place. Your own traveled down his torso and to his belt.

You undid it. You pulled down his pants but not his underwear. You slipped from his grasp.

You put your hands on either side of his bulge and ran your fingers over it. His legs spread open further as he tried to push up but you quickly put an end to that little action.

Your hands on his hips, you hovered your head over him. You licked a stripe onto the fabric. You began to suck him off with the barrier of his boxers.

He knew he was whining. His eyes wanted to screw shut but he kept them open, too transfixed by the visage before him.

Your own eyes were closed. Your hands, perfectly constraining his boxers, were wrapped around his hips. The tips of your perfectly manicured hands were digging into his skin. Your tongue lulled out and lavished him.

He could cum from just this alone.

However, as soon as the thought came to him, you pulled away.

“No, no, no, please, please, let me come,” he said, words flowing from his mouth before he could stop them.

“Aw,” you said with a chuckle, “begging so soon? How sweet. Don’t worry, baby, you’ll get to come soon. I’ve just got to see that little dick of yours first.”

The small bit of degradation mixed with all the praise made him twitch.

He’d never gotten any negative comments on his dick before. Rather the opposite, Valentino had tried several times before to talk him into at least faceless camera work but he didn’t want to think of the moth right now.

You pulled his underwear down to reveal his cock. It was length, a deep blue like the rest of him except were it was flushed vibrantly at the tip. He was already leaking pre-come. Milky white against his flesh.

You leaned over to lick it up. His eyes rolled back at the simple action.

Your smirked before you took him all your mouth at once. You slowly pulled up and let your teeth pull at the hood of his tip.

“Shit, shit, shit!”

He thrusted up into what was now just air as he twitched, his whole body convulsing but he didn’t come. He was on the verge though.

You shushed him as you stroked his inner thigh with your nails.

“Be a good boy for me and hand me the lube,” you said before you began sucking on the skin above his pelvic bone.

His hand went to your hair as he closed his eyes and moaned. It took him a moment to open them again but you didn’t seem to mind. He didn’t feel rushed.

When was the last time he hadn’t felt rushed while having sex? He couldn’t even remember. It was always about getting back to work as soon as possible or Valentino’s quick hits. It was never really about him. It was about getting rid of his boner or Valentino’s as soon as possible.

He liked this. He liked this feeling of. . . being cared for?

God, he was so fucking pathetic. He could feel tears filling his eyes as he reached for the lube on the bedside table.

“Are you alright, baby?” you asked. “Do you need to stop.”

“Fuck, please don’t.”

“Okay, we don’t have to stop. We can keep on going,” you said as you poured some lube into your hands. “You just keep on being a good boy for me, alright? You can cry if you need to, baby. It’s okay to cry, you know.”

That permission made it worse. He felt his face flush as tears began to stream down his face. This was pathetic. He was pathetic. He shouldn’t be crying. He’d rarely ever cried. Much less during sex, especially sex that he was enjoying.

“Can you bend your— oh, such a good boy,” you said.

You hooked his bent knees over your legs and pulled him into your lap.

You wrapped your hands, covered in warm lube (when was the last time someone had took the time to warm up lube before touching him?), around his cock and began slowly twisting your hands up and down. He couldn’t stop the weak thrusts.

“I’m sorry,” he said, repeating the phrase like a prayer.

“Shhhh, baby, it’s okay,” you told him, petting his thigh. “You take what you need. You’ve been so good for me. So good. You deserve it.”

“Fuck.”

He threw his head back against the pillow and then looked down at you. He immediately met your eyes, so soft and understanding. It made his stomach queazy.

He watched as his dick slowly was covered then revealed by your hand. It curved around him so perfectly, glistening with a mixture of lube and the pre-come he was leaking. You twisted your hand in just the right way.

You covered his cock and then revealed the head. You thumb lingered and smeared the pre-come at his tip. The point of your nail ever so gently grazed his hole and that’s what did it.

The lights flickered in the room as he spasmed and came. His screen went blank as he blacked out.

A few seconds later, he came to with you by his side with a glass. You tilted his head up and cupped your hand under his lips as you forced him to drink, any water that spilled was dropped in your hand.

You grabbed a cloth and wipes at his screen.

“Are you okay, baby? Was that good?” you asked and he could only mutely nod. “Good.”

You went to pull him into an embrace but stopped and looked down at your body. “Do you wanna clean me up or do you want me to do it?”

He followed your gaze and saw his come covering your torso, a bit of it even clinging to your bra. He leaned to lick it off you. You reclined onto the thrown of pillows and let him, stroking his shoulders and arms as he did.

He licked up to your bra and then was met with the rough contrast of the lace-like fabric compared to your smooth skin. He reached around and undid the bra. You let it fall and he licked where the come had been. Then he began sucking on your breasts.

“Oh, fuck,” this time it was you.

Spurred on, he reached down between your thighs and began stroking. You were wet, so fucking wet. His fingers slid through your folds with no hint of resistance.

He rolled your clit between two knuckles.

“Oh, so good for mommy,” you said as you continued petting him. “So good.”

He whined at both the praise and the title you had given yourself.

He began stroking you with a different purpose now. He needed you to come. He looked up at you, still sucking on your tit. He needed to see it.

Your breath quickened. Your pets turned into a tight hold. It was your turn to whine as your head rolled back and your mouth lulled open.

“So good! So good for me, baby, just like that,” you said right before you became incoherent. You groaned and moved up into his touch.

He went back to the tower feeling better than he could ever remember. The set you’d worn tucked into his pant pocket. You insisted, saying you had plenty of other sets. Who was he to refuse?

“Where the fuck have you been?” Velvette asked.

“Out,” he said as he walked passed her, in no mood for her screeching.

“For over two hours with your location turned off? You didn’t even answer your fucking phone,” Valentino said, voice raising to nearly as yell towards the end.

“Yes,” Vox said as he continued walking.

He heard Valentino laugh as he must have seen the lingerie set in his back pocket. “Were you really so busy fucking a hole that you couldn’t answer me? I hope they were good.”

“Better than you ever were,” Vox said before he closed his bedroom door, unwilling to let his lax mood be ruined.

A few months later, Vox was still going to see you. Absolutely hooked and you both knew it but so were you. You didn’t even made him pay but he still slipped money into your pocket or your bra so he wouldn’t have to face the fact that he was getting attached.

That was all thrown out the window when you released a new song. He wasn’t even halfway through watching the music video before he disappeared and found you, pulling you in for a bruising kiss and you knew exactly why.

The imagery in the music video was obvious. Pink smoke trying to creep into your studio only to be blocked, a deep blue body, TV screens everywhere. Then there were the lyrics:

I can give my babe affection without any type of infliction

You were just an intermission but I’m the center of attention

I’ve got him collared and leashed right where he needs to be

He’s down on his knees begging me with please

Better than any of his fantasies

Yeah, I’ve got his attention without infliction

[ashwhowrites]

Yay! Your requests are open again!

Eddie + Reader are divorced, but parted on good terms. One day they are at a b-day of one of their mutual friends and get a little tipsy. They start talking and eventually hook up that night.

Reader finds out she is pregnant and decides to keep the baby with Eddie's full support. Throughout the pregnancy, they fall back in love.

<3 Thank you.

This is so cute. A happy ending!!

I hope this is what you wanted and you enjoy it. Thank you for requesting <3

Oh, Baby

Falling in love young is always an unexpected journey. Y/N and Eddie felt unstoppable as they fell in love. Young teens that dove into something bigger than they thought they could handle. Fire and full of passion, speeding through too fast for either of them to see when it started to fall apart. They got married right after high school, hitched off to Vegas and she took his last name. Everyone thought they were crazy and dumb. But isn't the saying only fools go rushing in?

The start of their marriage was a fairytale. It was everything they dreamed of and knew they would prove everyone wrong. Because they knew they were meant to be and there was no one else they would ever be with. They fit perfectly together.

As hard as it was, they discovered people change as they grow up. And sometimes can't change together. Eddie and her wanted too many different things, which led them to realize they were meant to be together young, and not to grow old with.

They ended on good terms, both wishing the best for each other. They didn't keep much in contact, knowing it was easier to move on if they went their separate ways. They didn't have anything tying them together so they let go.

~~~

Steve decided to throw himself a huge birthday party for turning thirty. And since he was a friend of Eddie's and Y/N's they both knew there was a chance they'd run into each other.

Y/N may have gotten a new dress and tried extra hard with her makeup. She may have sprayed on Eddie's favorite perfume she used to wear during their marriage. She might have been eyeing the door, dying to see him again.

Eddie may have rolled up his sleeves in the way Y/N always liked. He may have dosed his neck in the cologne that made her legs weak. He might have tied up his hair in a lower bun, knowing his loose curls drove her insane. He might have smoked a cigarette on the way as he calmed his nerves.

Once he walked in, the magnetic connection between them yanked them together instantly. His eyes latched on her as she walked over to him. His nose inhaled her sweet perfume as she wrapped her arms around him. He bit his lip when he pulled away, no shame in checking her out.

She could smell the cologne on his skin, craving to taste him again. She blushed under his stare, the dress doing what she wanted. She couldn't help but check him out as well. She bit her lip as she noticed his thick arms underneath his tight button-up, his sleeves rolled so his tattoos showed. The fancy watch on his wrist and rings on his fingers. Yet, the only finger that remained empty was his ring finger.

"You look incredible." He complimented, his voice deep and raspy. It reminded her of his morning voice, how he'd roll over and whisper right against her ear.

"Thanks, Eds. You do too." Eddie felt like he got lost in her smile all over again.

"Eddie! You made it!" Steve cheered, dragging Eddie out of the room. His brown eyes looked back at her until she was out of his sight.

~~~

The last few people were starting to head out. Y/N had her feet in the pool as she sipped her drink. Steve was picking things up in the backyard, keeping a close eye on her.

"Sure you don't want me to bring you home?" He asked, but she shook off his offer.

"No, I think I'm good to drive." Steve accepted her answer and walked inside. He gave a small smile to Eddie as he passed him. Eddie had his hands in his pockets as he walked up to her. She smiled as he sat next to her, his back to the pool as he stretched out his legs. His shoulder rested against hers as he looked at her.

Neither knew how long they were out there, talking for hours. But they got the cue to leave once Steve was ready for bed.

Just like old times, she held his hand as they walked to his car. His hand was on her thigh as she hummed to the radio. Her stomach was filled with butterflies, but the smile on her face never left. The same feelings she felt on their first date were happening again.

"You still haven't fixed that front step!" Eddie laughed, following behind Y/N as she unlocked the front door. The same house they lived in together before Eddie moved out. Eddie remembered breaking that step when they moved in, carrying way too many boxes.

"It's our first memory in this house, I never want to fix it." She shrugged, taking off her shoes as he walked in behind her. He looked around, not much had changed. The pictures of them were taken off the walls, and replaced with their friends. All the things he took with him kept the place empty, he realized she never replaced his things with anything new.

"I kinda figured you'd make this place into your own," Eddie admitted, walking further into the small house. He didn't hear her behind him, and she didn't say a word.

She walked into the kitchen, grabbed a bottle of wine, and poured two glasses. She let Eddie look around the house as she grabbed the glasses and headed to the couch.

After a second, Eddie joined her. Both filled up the silence with random conversations as they sipped glass after glass.

As time went on, she found herself and Eddie moving closer to closer. Then she felt his lips on hers, his hands eagerly touching her. She felt like he took all her breath away, his hands touching her the same way they used to. His kiss felt the same.

~~~

It's been a week since she and Eddie had sex. She felt relieved that he was still there when she woke up. It was awkward at first, neither knowing what to say or what the next step was.

But they were divorced, and they had to remind themselves of that.

She didn't plan on seeing Eddie much after that, just a little backslide but she's back on the path of moving forward.

That was until she found out she was pregnant. She knew it was Eddie's since she hadn't been with anyone lately. She was worried Eddie might not want to be brought back together again. But the excitement that was on his face washed all her worries away. He cheered and spun her around.

He always wanted a family and he always wanted it with her.

He didn't let her do a single thing alone. He went to every appointment, holding her hand as they stared at the screen. They went to every baby store, and he insisted on buying everything she wanted. Together they worked on the nursery at her house, Eddie painted the room and cleaned up the floors. She couldn't help but feel so much love for him as he worked to put the nursery together. His touch all around the room.

Some nights he stayed on the couch, the more she grew the more nervous he got leaving her alone. If there was ever an issue, no matter the time, he'd show up at her door.

She couldn't help but wish the divorce never happened, that Eddie was still hers. But in a way, she felt like they needed the divorce to grow on their own. And be better for each other.

"I still can't believe I did that!" Eddie groaned, Y/N laughed at his embarrassment, rubbing her stomach as she retold the story of when Eddie got drunk and met her parents for the first time.

They found themselves traveling down their memories every time they hung out. Digging up old feelings and showing them on their arms.

"Why are you laughing? You met Wayne right after you sucked me off!" Eddie said, laughing as she covered her face in horror.

"We were so crazy back then." Y/N sighed after their laughter died. Her hand was on her bump as she looked at him. "We were so in love and inseparable. What happened to us?"

Eddie looked over at her, his hand reaching to rub her stomach. His eyes were soft as he looked into her eyes.

"We grew up. I was nowhere near a good husband for you. I wanted to be, but we were too young to try to save a love like that. But there was never a day I didn't think about you." He admitted, dropping to his knees as he rested his chin on her bump.

She leaned down and rubbed his cheek, melting at his brown eyes.

"I always thought about you too. I know we were young and neither of us knew how to fight for each other, just against each other. But do you ever think about us if we did make it through? If we kept trying instead of giving up?"

"Sometimes," Eddie admitted, leaning into her touch. "But look where we are now. I think we needed to grow up on our own. Without the fear of disappointing each other. It helped us truly focus on just ourselves. And now? We are having a baby. Exactly where I always wanted to be with you." He kissed her stomach softly, resting his head against her as she played with his hair.

Before she could say something, she felt something. A harsh cramp in her stomach. She gasped and gripped Eddie's shoulders. His worried eyes looked at her as he felt something in her stomach.

"Was that?"

"Did he?"

Then another cramp, Y/N smiled when she realized their baby was kicking.

"Eddie! He's kicking!" She announced, Eddie quickly placed his hands on her stomach.

"Kick for daddy." He said, a smile on his face as he felt a hit against his palm.

Y/N felt tears in her eyes as she watched Eddie excitedly talk to the baby and wait for kicks. The excitement in his bright eyes and the love.

"I love you." She whispered, sniffling.

He looked up, hand on her stomach and the other hand on her cheek. He rubbed her tears away.

"I love you too."

Tags!

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[rorywritesjunk]

I won't treat you like you're oh so typical

Buggy wakes you up to help him with his makeup and he sometimes get grabby.

Rating: Soft R? Idk. Some swearing, and uh, innuendos. No sex. I plan to write sex at some point but I just wanted to keep this kind of fluffy for now.

Warnings: Insecure!Buggy because that's my anime husband right there, needing assurance while his lady does his makeup. Some swearing. Buggy is kind of a brat in this.

A/N: Inspired by the image of that woman sitting on top of another doing her makeup. The title comes from "Closer" by Tegan & Sara. Part Two is here!

“You have got to stop moving, Buggy.” You warned as you held the eyeliner pencil near his eye. “Do you want to be known as Captain Buggy the One-Eyed Clown? Because that’s what’s going to happen if your hand grabs my ass again.”

“But baaaabe!” He whined underneath you. You sat up and crossed your arms as you looked down at him. Currently you had him laying underneath you on your shared bed while you straddled him to do his makeup. Barely twenty minutes ago he woke you up from a deep sleep, demanding you help him with your makeup. You were still in your damn pajamas as you sat on top of your silly boyfriend.

“Buggy.” You sighed. “I can’t get this done if you keep groping me.”

“I can’t help it!” Buggy pouted. “Why are you trying to seduce me while doing my makeup? I can’t control myself when you’re dressed like this!”

You rolled your eyes. This being your pajamas. Light green boxer shorts with bananas printed on them and a shirt you cut the sleeves off of. Of course he’d find that sexy. You held the pencil up threateningly. 

“Let me continue or this is going to take all day.” You told him as you leaned back down. He sighed and settled back down on the bed. While you managed to keep his arms pinned to his sides with your knees, his hands still could wander. You cursed his Devil Fruit powers when it came to situations like this. Sure, they were great for getting things off tall shelves or scratching your back when he was busy, but times like this you cursed it.

“Oh, what big plans do you have?” He asked as you worked the pencil around his eyes carefully. You didn’t respond at first, being careful not to jab him in the eye either on purpose or on accident. You sat up just enough to make sure the job was done well before you sat back up to grab the next bit of makeup. “Does it involve getting naked at any point with your fearsome Captain boyfriend?”

You gave him an unamused look as you grabbed a different pencil, the one you used to draw the skull on his forehead. “I was planning on going back to sleep because my silly Captain boyfriend woke me up to do his makeup and won’t stop trying to feel me up.”

He grinned cheekily at that as one of his hands did grab your ass, giving a sharp pinch to your left cheek. You yelped and reached back to swat at his hand before looking back at him. “Come on!”

“Stop seducing me then!” He whined. “Why do you have to be on top of me every time anyway?”

“Because… of the lighting, Buggy.” You told him as you lied through your teeth. This wasn’t the first time you’ve done his makeup like this. In the past you tried while he sat at his vanity, but found it hard to get the right lighting. Not to mention there was a mirror there and he could see everything you did. He made it a point to give a running commentary about what you were doing wrong and it drove you crazy. You finally gave up and had him lay down on the bed where you could see his face better and have better angles for his makeup. “And the shadows on your face throw me off when you sit down. If I do it this way, I can see your beautiful face more clearly..”

He fell silent as you called his face beautiful, and you noticed his cheeks were a little red. You smiled and kissed him on the forehead before you finished drawing the skull and crossbones. You looked down at him and grinned. So far the makeup wasn’t looking half bad. The last bit was applying the red lipstick. This was actually your favorite part because it was the easiest, and honestly, his lips were so soft to touch that every time you did apply his lipstick, you couldn’t help but kiss him afterwards. 

You grabbed his chin gently to keep his head still as you dabbed it over his lips carefully, making sure to apply it thick. He looked up at you as you did, taking notice how focused you were and how you even stuck your tongue out in concentration. It was… it was cute. He liked seeing you like that. He managed not to pout when you let go of his chin, but when he felt your thumbs on his lips, no doubt to smear the excess lipstick around his mouth, he couldn’t help but kiss at the pads of your thumbs. 

You smiled and cupped his head in your hands gently as you leaned down to kiss him. Fresh makeup on Buggy was always a glorious sight to see, because you knew in a few hours it would start to fade, smear, and look unkempt. You had the honor of seeing him first each day.

After a moment, you nipped at his bottom lip gently before you pulled back from the kiss. You reached up to wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, looking surprised to see so much red lipstick on it. You must have overdone this time. When you looked back at Buggy, however, you saw the look in his eyes and began to have regrets.

“Buggy…” 

He wasted no time pushing you on your back and rolling on top of you, forcing your legs apart as he grinned down at you. He reached up to touch your lips, dragging his thumb over them slowly, and when he pulled his hand back you could see there was still lipstick on you. You rarely wore makeup, not really enjoying it on yourself as much as you enjoyed seeing it on Buggy. He stared at your lips for a moment longer before he pressed a kiss to the corner of your mouth, working his way to your jawline and to your ear, humming in appreciation as he saw the red marks he was leaving. 

He pressed a kiss to your earlobe before whispering, “You really think I’m beautiful, or are you just saying that so I fuck you?”

Honestly, it caught you off guard. He was beautiful. Fuck, his eyes, hair, nose, everything about him was beautiful. His personality, at times, drove you crazy, and he knew that, but you also knew he still had insecurity about his looks and being a pirate and, well, everything. He was just insecure. You reached up and put your hands on his cheeks, smushing them forward and making his lips pucker; he was resembling a goofy fish at that moment.

“The most beautiful person I’ve ever known, Buggy.” You assured him as you pulled him down for a kiss, holding on for just a moment before pulling back and pressing your lips to his nose. You could feel him tense up, and you were proud of him for not pulling away. After letting go of his face, your hands removed his bandana and your fingers began combing through his hair. “Fearsome and flashy, Captain Buggy.” 

“That so?” He grinned, the moment seeming to pass now. “Tell me more then.”

“I’d love to.” You replied. “If you get off me and let me finish your damn makeup.”

[ellielatinagf]

Lacrosse!Ellie Part 2

Summary: after meeting that mysterious girl who had your heart and stomach in knots, you find a way to get closer to her

Warnings: mild profanity,

Part 1 | Part 3 | Part 4

*follow*

You finally hit the follow button. After what felt like hours of just stalking the girls account. You thought about meeting her, but after your encounter with her the other day it felt pretty awkward and you didn’t want to seem to eager.

*Elli3mfwilliams started following you*

*new message*

Ellie: heyy

She was fast with it. You literally just started following her and she texted you??

You: hii

*seen just now* thank god she must be a fast replier

Ellie: how’d you find me?

You: Dina gave me your account. Is that okay?

Ellie: of course babes

Oh god that nickname. Does she know what she’s doing? Does she know the way your stomach churns at the name and even wanting to turn itself inside out? Wait is she even gay?? What kind of question is that, one look and you can already tell she practically worships women. You tried to think of a way to get closer to her

You: are you any good at math?

Ellie: math genius

You: do you think you can help me? Like study and stuff

Ellie: sure I got you. Wanna meet up this weekend at the coffe shop by school?

Ugh, this weekend? It’s only Tuesday, this weekend is forever away…

You: sure!

Ellie: alright then, see ya later babe

You turned off your phone and placed it on your night stand. You laid on your bed and stared at the ceiling. You basically made a date with Ellie. Sure you two barely knew each other but it was better than nothing. You knew you liked women. You hadn’t exactly dated a woman but anytime you saw a pretty woman you just knew you liked them.

You woke up the next morning to your alarm clock throwing a tantrum on the drawer. You decided to get a little dolled up today. Maybe you just felt in the mood. Your humming to the song playing on your speaker was interrupted by the notification in your phone

*Dinasaur calling*

“Oh shit” You Said Running out of your room grabbing your backpack and rushing outside. You climbed in Dina’s car with half your makeup applied.

“Girl we’re gonna be late!” Dina complained “wait a minute why are YOU looking all pretty?” Dina asked smiling. You giggled and pulled down the passenger mirror to apply your lip gloss.

“I dunno just wanted to I guess” you smirked. Dina didn’t buy, but she didn’t push you. You both sang songs as she drove to school.

“Sooooo have you made any plans this weekend?” Dina asked as you both walked to your classes. Does she know? Did Ellie say something? I mean, it was Dina’s fault you got to talk to Ellie..but still.

“Uh yeah” you said trying to be general and not give hints.

“Ugh! Oh my god Y/n tell me what happened with you and Ellie!” Dina giggled grabbing your arm. You smiled rolling your eyes. Of course she knew. She’s your best friend. What DOESNT she know?

“We’ll nothing really…” You said. You wished something happened “we’re just meeting up for a coffee study this weekend”

“Lame!” Dina exclaimed “your telling me she didn’t fall to your knees and beg you for your hand in marriage?”. You couldn’t help but laugh.

“Nope. Shocking right?” You replied. The two of you laughed a storm. Dina squeezed your hand goodbye and you both parted ways to go to class. Pre-calc . You hate pre-calc. You basically dragged your feet to class. Your foot missed the next step and before you knew it you tripped and hit your nose on the floor.

If this were anyone else you probably would be laughed. It’s a guilty pleasure. But you groaned and just before you pull yourself up, you feel a pair of hands on your shoulders.

“You okay babe?” You knew that raspy voice. You looked up to meet a pair of green orbs staring at you. A pair of pink lips smiling at you. The embarrassment hit you like a punching bag your cheeks felt warm and turned pink.

“That was an interesting fall ” Ellie chuckled.

“Ha..sorry.. I mean thank you.” You smiled getting back on your feet “I’m fine, thank you”

“No problem babe. We still on for coffee this weekend?” She asked

“Yeah of course” you replied

“Great, I’m looking forward to it. Bye babe. Oh by the way, you look good today”

“Thanks…bye ellie…” you Said waving bye and watching the gorgeous god sent woman leave. Her backpack had space pins on it. Cute. Wait, she said she was looking forward to it. To you. She wants to see you. Oh god. You hated her. Why is so so damn perfect? She’s making you go crazy. That stupid gorgeous nerd.

So excited for the next one omg. Don’t worry there’s gonna be a LOOOOOOTTTTT of fluff trust me loves. Love you thanks for reading! Free Palestine 🇵🇸

@bready101

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