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theonewiththefanfics · 2 years ago

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Homecoming (one-shot)

Synopsys: When Y/N goes missing during a simple supply run, she comes back with world-shattering news for Astarion. News he never thought to hear, and now he has a decision to make, one that will shift his life on its axis once more.

Set after the main events of BG3

Pairing: Astarion x fem!Reader

Genre: angst, fluff, a bit of SMUT, but nothing explicit

Warnings: talks of blood, injuries, swearing, mentions of abuse, but nothing explicit, kidnapping

Word count: 8397

A/N: I have not played Baldur's Gate 3 (I don't own a PS or a PC where to play it. all of this is based on the info gathered online and through Neil's own gameplay etc. Please be kind :) )

Part 2(ish) - Love Conquers All (one-shot)

A home was not something to ever be taken for granted, that much they had learned during their adventures.

A home was a fire slowly crackling in the hearth, warmth expanding through the living room. A home was Astarion sitting on a loveseat, a book in his hands while he waited for his love to finish puttering around in the kitchen. A home was drying tea leaves and making preserves for the coming winter as she shooed him out, saying that his fussing would only hinder her process.

He’d huffed, puffed and whined, trying to make Y/N pull away from her plans just so they could curl up and read together, but she was adamant.

“I’ve already started.” She dropped an orange peel and pressed some lemon juice into the steaming pot. “It’ll be wasted produce if I just leave it now.”

“But it will take you hours!” Astarion whined like a child and even stomped his foot, making her snort.

“And it will take me twice as long if you don’t stop annoying me.” Y/N threw him a saccharine smile over her shoulder, batting her lashes at the pouting vampire. “Now, be a good boy, and quit pestering me. We’ll have all the time in the world, once I’m done.”

Astarion just groaned, going up to her and wrapping his arms around her waist, the incisors he usually sank into her neck now nipping at her lobe. “I can be a very good boy if you only let me prove it.”

“My love, you will be getting absolutely no sex from me, if you don’t let me at least finish this batch.” A shiver rushed down her spine as he licked at her neck, so close to that sweet spot he always used as a place to bite and drink from. But she had to be strong. The jams wouldn’t make themselves. “Every additional minute you keep me from this will be an additional day of your dry spell.”

The vampire spawn jumped back from her as if he’d been scalded, scarlet eyes narrowing in on her. “You wouldn’t dare. You wouldn’t last an hour!”

Y/N turned around, crossing her arms as a devious smile bloomed on her lips, a brow raised in challenge. “Would you like to test those waters?”

Astarion stood, staring her down. His crimson gaze was blazing from underneath his lashes, but she didn’t budge. They’d played this game for close to three years as a couple now, and she’d learned very quickly – Astarion was very much so a cat. But especially – he was a cat that liked to knock things over while keeping direct eye contact with you, though the second you placed a palm underneath whatever it was he wanted for to fall, all his need for chaos disappeared. It just wasn’t fun anymore.

For twenty long seconds, Y/N and her pale elven lover didn’t break, hoping the other would crumble and be announced as the loser, but part of what he loved about her, was her stubbornness. It was because of that part of her personality, she’d stuck by him when his doubts had crept in, when his own mind called him worthless and not good enough for her, almost as if to spite those vicious words in his mind. She didn’t give up on the people she loved, and as luck would have it, Astarion owned her heart.

But Y/N also knew how to handle a cat like him, so just after a few more tense moments, his eye twitched, and he huffed in defeat.

“Fine,” he scoffed. “But if you are not done by sundown, I shall have no other option but to drag you away from the stove. Kicking and screaming preferred.”

Y/N simply shook her head, and went to him, wrapping her arms around his neck and pulling the man into a deep, breathless kiss, but not before nipping at his bottom lip, dragging the piece of flesh between her teeth and making him let out a desperate moan. “I’ll even let you tie me up if you wish to do so.”

Astarion’s pupils almost swallowed the red irises in a matter of seconds, as he threw his head back in a groan. “My love, you’re absolutely killing me here.”

“Then I hope whatever punishment you deem fit for me, will be just oh, so sweet.” Y/N stepped back, untangling herself from him, but the mischievousness in her eyes didn’t lessen.

She could see how the words tortured him, how it took every single last piece of his fraying self-control, to not rip off her apron and the clothes underneath and just lay her down on the kitchen table, legs spread with his mouth licking into her until she orgasmed.

With eyes holding nothing but pure lust and hands clenching and unclenching, Astarion retreated. Y/N would be lying if she said she wasn’t hot and bothered and absolutely dripping between her thighs, and the thought of finishing those jams was the last thing on her mind, but she did have to do it. If only to keep him waiting longer, knowing whatever his beautiful brain was cooking up would leave her screaming and shaking for hours.

They’d been growing their own vegetables and fruits, Y/N tending to them during the nights to spend more time with Astarion as he fussed over his flower gardens, so it would simply be wasteful to leave their berries to rot. The year had been very generous and offered a variety of things to gather, so a while back, she’d decided to pickle some of the tomatoes and cucumbers, turn another batch of peppers and tomatillos into sauces while the sweeter things would be turned into syrups and jams.

Y/N shook her head, trying to clear it from the haze of lust, as the aroma of lemons and cranberries, raspberries and oranges wafted all around, encasing her in the scent. She was just about to add the sugar when the tin rattled with the sound of the last grains left.

Her brow furrowed as she opened the lid and looked inside. Sure, enough it was empty.

The woman huffed. She was absolutely positive she’d gotten the right amount during the last trip, but somewhere along the way it seemed a miscalculation had happened, and now she had to get more. Y/N would have asked Astarion, and had the sun dipped below the horizon, he would have jumped at the request, but alas his little vampiric predicament forbade him from walking during the day, the sun still high in the sky from what she could see through a tiny slit in the shutters.

Quickly, Y/N snuffed out the flame below the pot, untied her dirtied apron and grabbed a basket from the pantry, tying a pouch of coins to her side. She only needed sugar, but maybe she would grab some other necessities as well. They were low on Astarion’s favourite wine, one he claimed didn’t taste like vinegar at least.

“I’m off to the market really quick,” Y/N announced as she peeked into the living room, taking in Astarion as he flipped a page in a book. “Do you want anything?”

“No, my love.” He looked at her like a love-sick puppy. “Just your darling self back as quick as you can. I have picked up some… inspiration for your punishment if you will. Just as you suggested, of course.” He closed the book, showing the cover to her.

Heat crawled all over her body as she read the title, one of her smuttier romances she had started to read, and when she could do nothing but gulp and nod, his smile turned from a sweet one into a wicked-fanged thing. It was all she needed to know whatever awaited her once she was done would leave her unable to walk. Gods, she needed to finish this whole thing up as quickly as she could.

Y/N was out the doors like the wind, the usual stroll to the market cut from half an hour into a brisk fifteen-minute jog, the thoughts of the man waiting back home for her at the forefront of her mind.

The needed sugar, some coffee beans, a loaf of fresh bread, Astarion’s wine and some sour cream were all bought in quick succession, Y/N didn’t even try to haggle. Her eyes drifted across various stalls and merchants and she almost deemed it done when her gaze caught onto a rose seedling. It was a beautiful bloom with blood-red petals that whitened at the very tips. She smiled and went to buy it. Astarion would love the symbolism even if a bit too on the nose.

Once satisfied with everything, Y/N marched across the market and was back on the road to home. It was a humble little house they’d purchased with whatever had been left in their pockets after all was said and done with the tadpoles, but Astarion had bigger plans. This was only a temporary situation.

“I want a whole room full of books. Nothing but books from one end to the other and then some,” he’d confided in Y/N one night after both were panting and spent from multiple rounds of bringing the other to ecstasy.

“And a large ballroom,” he continued, and Y/N couldn’t help the loud laugh that escaped her.

“A ballroom? And what will we do with that?”

“Why, have grand balls, of course!” He threw his hands up in the air as if her question was preposterous.

“Star…” Y/N tilted her head to look up at him from where she was lying on his naked chest. “You hate people. A ballroom full of them – it would be your literal nightmare.”

“I don’t hate people.”

“I don’t count.”

“Alright,” he conceded, wrapping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her closer. Y/N placed her palm atop where his heart was and rested her chin on it, looking deep into his eyes. “I hate most people, simply dislike them, but I wouldn’t be opposed to a get-together, from time to time. Maybe… maybe see our friends. Catch up on how they’re doing. I absolutely despise to admit this and will say you are lying if you ever mention it to anyone, but I – I miss them… even Gale…”

A gentle smile lifted her lips as she brushed a wild curl out of his face and tucked it behind his pointy ear. “I think I’d really like that too.”

His eyes were so soft and full of love, that Y/N swore she could feel his heart beating once more in his chest, thudding against her palm in a confession of adoration.

She was almost out of the city by that point, already on the small, secluded road leading to their house which lay on the outskirts of Baldur’s Gate right by the edges of the woods, so Astarion had easier access to game in between feeding on her when her attention was drawn back by someone calling out.

“Miss!” the voice, male she made out, yelled after her. “Miss, please wait!”

Instantly, her guard was up, but when a breathless man, looking to be in his late sixties appeared from behind a copse of trees, she somewhat relaxed. Y/N was still cautious, but if anything, she had a dagger holstered against her thigh. She was always prepared.

“Miss,” he gasped out, leaning his hands against his knees to catch his breath. “Miss, you are a quick one. I’ve been calling for you since by the rose stalls."

“Oh, I – I’m sorry. I didn’t hear you!” Y/N said but didn’t move forward. “How can I help?”

He huffed, as if regaining her breath, before fishing out a piece of fabric from his pocket, and extending it towards her. “You dropped this by the flowers.”

When she took a closer look at what he was holding, it seemed to be some sort of a silk scarf. She narrowed her eyes at him. She didn’t own silk scarves and definitely hadn’t worn one on such a warm day. “You must have mixed me up with someone, as it’s not mine. Sorry, for you to have troubled yourself like this.”

“No.” The man furrowed his brow, taking a step closer. “I am fairly certain I saw you drop it. Such a fine piece… didn’t want you to lose it.”

Y/N took a step back, angling herself in a defensive position with the basket in front of her. She didn’t like the tone he was speaking in, nor the way his eyes seemed to be appraising her. “No,” she asserted. “It’s not mine.”

His back stiffened, eyes growing cold, the grip on the scarf tightening as he hummed. “Well… a pity then.”

She took another step back, but he was already lunging at her.

Dropping the basket to the ground, she reached for the knife strapped at her thigh, but he was quick as a viper as she hadn’t even noticed when a rope appeared in his hands, lashing it at her. Years of having fought had kept her agile and aware, but years of domestic bliss with Astarion had dulled her senses a bit.

The rope caught and wrapped around her ankle, knocking her to the ground. Y/N’s teeth clattered and snapped, her tongue almost in between them, but as he rushed to pin her down, she twisted her leg around the rope and pulled, making the man lose his balance and stumble.

It was enough for her to swipe her leg underneath his, and send him sprawling. It was enough for her to untangle her legs and roll away as he snapped it at her head. Her clothes were dirty as was her face, but it didn’t matter. She’d cover herself in blood if needed.

It was almost animalistic how she pounced – teeth bared, a snarl ripping from her throat and hands forming claws as if she would gouge at his face with just his nails, but as her palm brushed her thigh, unclipping the holster for her dagger, Y/N didn’t see the man had crouched on his knee and swung the cord.

It knocked the air out of her, as it wrapped around her chest, and he pulled her down, hard. Her ribs were screaming as the tether tightened and tightened with every pull, but as she thought this would be it, something strange happened – instead of offering her the killing blow, he opened a palm, now covered in a leather glove, and blew the contents of it onto her face.

Y/N coughed and sputtered, but whatever it was, was fast-acting and her lungs, still incapable of proper breathing due to the rope couldn’t expel it. In just a few seconds, the bright day around her turned into darkness.

She didn’t know how long she was unconscious for, but enough time had passed to dry out her throat. Or was that a side effect of whatever was blown into her face? In any case, as she slowly came to, Y/N noted there was a soft mattress under her body, which was an oddity for someone kidnapped. She could even tell the dagger was still by her thigh, the comforting weight of the blade pressed under her. Even weirder, if you asked her, to not disarm your victims.

Darkness still encompassed her, but the soft cloth against her cheeks told her she hadn’t permanently lost her vision, but with her sight obscured, she had to rely on her ears. That’s when voices invaded her senses.

There were three people somewhere further away, most likely in a different room if taken by how muffled the words were. She focused harder on what they were saying.

Two men and a female, Y/N differentiated, when the woman spoke.

“This is not what we agreed upon!” she hissed, and a grumbly-sounding man scoffed.

“You said to get her to you. I did. You never specified how.” It was the same man who’d knocked her out.

“We want her to help us!” A different male voice, this one softer, even kinder, rebutted. “I highly doubt kidnapping is a good incentive for that!”

“Look,” her assailant said. “I fulfilled my end of the deal. She is unhurt, maybe she'll sport a couple of bruises and a headache, but that is her own fault. She could have come willingly but didn’t. Other than that, though – she is completely fine. Now you do your part!”

As the trio argued between themselves, more angry whispers than shouting, Y/N started to shimmy her hands which had been bound, out of the restraints. She had a good inclination they needed her alive but had no want of staying as a prisoner.

Though her fighting skills seemed to have mellowed, which she was not happy about, even a couple of years without mortally dangerous adventures, hadn’t changed how quickly she could slip her wrists from their bindings. Astarion might need to get more creative during their debauchery.

Y/N froze the second she heard a door open and shut, two pairs of footsteps moving closer and closer to where she was. Her breathing was shallow and almost imperceptible, as she tried to make it look like she was still unconscious.

She could sense two bodies enter the room and one move to stand where she faced, the other going to her back.

Y/N tensed. In just a few moments, whoever was behind her, would notice her undone binds. But she’d be ready.

“Darling, please be careful,” the woman said, a tremble in her voice.

Good. Let them be scared.

“Don’t worry,” the man replied. “I’ll just make sure she’s – what in the -”

But Y/N was already up, the blindfold off and ready to pounce. This time, she’d have the upper hand.

For a second, the light in the room blinded her, but her sight refocused fast enough to take in her captors’ faces.

The woman was beautiful, with high rosy cheekbones, and jade green eyes so vivid they looked like actual gemstones. Her hair was long and dark, down to her waist while grey strands seemed to have invaded the brown tresses in some places, but she was still ethereally gorgeous, her pointy ears covered in piercings.

Y/N snapped out of the shock quicker and using this to her advantage, she was behind her in a matter of a blink, her dagger pressed tight against her throat.

A gasp entered her ears, but she just pressed the blade harder, making her whimper.

“Please!” the man made her look at him, but instead of bracing for an attack, he had his hands up in surrender. “Please don’t hurt her! We just want to talk.”

“Funny way of having a conversation you’ve got there.” Y/N tightened her grip on the knife, surveying the man. Again, those same pointed ears, but his eyes were the most brilliant blue she’d ever seen and his face was marred with more age lines than the woman’s, yet he still was as gorgeous as she. “Typically, only my enemies would knock me out and tie me up before spilling their grand plans. But I will be kind and give you a choice – what would you like to be – friends or foes?”

“Friends! Friends! Please! We – we’re looking for our son!” the elven man pleaded. “And we – we heard a rumour that you might know him. Have even seen him.”

Y/N narrowed her Y/E/C eyes, piercing his with her gaze. “I’ve known and seen a lot of people. Usually, others just ask me about them, they don’t have someone kidnap me.”

“And we’re sorry, we’re so very sorry, but we had to make sure you came. It went too far and we apologise, but please…” He took in a deep breath, worried eyes flipping between his partner and her. “Our son – his name is Astarion. Astarion Ancunin. Have you – do you know of him?”

Hearing his name, knocked the breath out of her as if they’d snapped a rope around her chest again, making her stumble back. Her grip on the woman released, and she used the moment to leap over to her partner, using the bed as a buffer. He instantly wrapped his arms around her, pulling her half behind his back, but not before checking if Y/N’s dagger had pierced the skin.

Tears brimmed in the eleven woman’s green eyes as she looked at her, not even caring that just a moment before she was so close to having her blood dripping on the floor. “Please,” she whispered. “I – I know we didn’t go about it the right way, but please… is it true he’s alive?”

"I,” Y/N stammered, her gaze snapping back and forth between the two.

Astarion.

They were Astarion’s parents.

Even after all this time, they were searching for their missing son.

Y/N should have noticed the details – how the woman had a small mole on her cheek right where Astarion did, how the shape of the man’s eyes was the exact same as his son’s. Astarion even had the same high cheekbones as his mother while his sharp jaw was that of his father.

What had his eyes been like before? Green like his mother’s or the sky blue of his father's? What had he been like as a child? No doubt as mischievous and scheme-prone as he was now, but who had he gotten it from? So many different questions rattled through Y/N’s brain as she kept glancing back and forth, before shaking her head and pulling her out of the shocked stupor.

“You – you’re Ancunins?” She had to ask. Had to make sure she hadn’t overheard them or maybe hallucinating because of the powder she’d inhaled.

“Yes.” The woman nodded, brushing tears from under her eyes. “Our son has been missing for more than two hundred years, and we almost lost hope until… until we heard about you and your company a few years back. How one of the party members resembled our little Star so much.”

They hadn’t been inconspicuous, though they had tried, so it shouldn’t have come as such a surprise that tales of their adventures had gone far and wide, especially after saving Baldur’s Gate, killing Cazador and the absolute, and Gods know how many other evils along the way. But she never thought Astarion’s parents would have heard of it.

In fact, Astarion had barely even mentioned them over the years, and, for whatever reason, Y/N had concluded they must have passed, despite knowing elves lived extremely long lives. Had he maybe tried to find them on his own and couldn’t? Or had he forgotten about them?

Until Astarion and Y/N had become an official couple and she’d commissioned a portrait of him as a gift on an anniversary, he hadn’t even seen himself in two centuries. He’d forgotten what he looked like. It didn’t seem too crazy to assume, the memories of his parents’ names or their faces, might’ve slipped away as well, or even the love they had for him. Especially knowing how deeply Cazador had ruined that notion for him.

She needed to get home. She needed to see Astarion, and then she could figure out what to do.

“I need to go.” Y/N nodded to herself, muttering under her breath. “I need to think.”

“No, please!” the woman lunged, trying to grasp at her, but she had a knife pointed at her chest in an instant, making the elf shrivel back, but still, she pleaded. “Please help us. You’re the hero of Baldur’s Gate! If you can’t help, who will?”

“I promise I will do my best,” Y/N said. “But I need time… I – I need to figure all of this out.”

Her mind was swirling like a hurricane, but the man interrupted her breakdown as she realised how pretty much her in-laws, had kidnapped her. “At least tell us this – is – is it true he is alive? Or have we travelled across Faerun under the pretences of false hope?”

In truth, Y/N wanted to take them by the arms and drag them to her house, but whether Astarion wanted to reach out and reconnect, was up to him. That sort of a choice was not hers to make, but she could grant them this one request.

“He is.” Y/N nodded.

And then she left as quickly as she could because if she had to stand there and watch as the elves crumbled into one another, cries of relief and joy escaping into the slowly setting day, she would crumble too. Their faces were already permanently burned into her mind, and she needed a moment to process everything.

By a stroke of luck or fate, Y/N instantly recognised she was in the woods on the other side of Baldur’s Gate, so retracing her steps to the market was fairly easy even though the whole way back home, she was pretty much stumbling around in a daze, knocking into people and tripping over her own two legs.

Her discarded basket was right where she’d left it, gold coins scattered around it. The pouch must’ve broken during the struggle. Y/N made sure to pick every single piece up and was more than relieved to see, that the rose bloom was still intact.

By the time she arrived, the sun was starting to dip below the horizon, and as the last rays warmed her back, she extended her palm to open the door, though she didn’t even get to touch the handle as it was ripped open by a visibly distressed Astarion.

His eyes looked like he’d been crying, his hair as if he’d been relentlessly raking his fingers through the locks and his lower lip so bitten, there was a small hole where one of his incisors had gone through.

“Oh, thank the Gods!” Astairon instantly grabbed her by the wrist and pulled her in a bone-crushing hug, burying his nose into the crook of her neck. “Thank the Gods!”

Y/N dropped the basket over the threshold and closed the door with her foot, her own arms weaving around his middle, a palm soothingly brushing along his side, as he soaked her in.

“I’m alright, Star,” she said, kissing his temple and didn’t even make a noise as he gripped her waist tighter, right where bruises were forming. “I’m sorry I was gone so long, but I’m alright.”

“What happened? You said you’d be quick, but you were gone for hours! And you know what the worst part was – I couldn’t even go out looking for you because of the damned fucking sun!” Astarion cupped her face, turning it this way and that way, trying to find any injuries, but the biggest one would be in her head as she tried to figure out how to explain to him what had happened. “Gods, I am never letting you out of my sight again!”

Y/N indulged the vampire in the hug he pulled her in, holding him against her chest, trying to comfort him, but she was way too consumed with her new findings. Too quickly, as evident by the frown on Astarion’s face, she untangled herself from the embrace, anxiety immediately flashing over his handsome features.

She slid her arms from around his waist to take his palms into hers. “I – I don’t even know how to say this… How do you say something like that?”

Worry instantly marred his brow, and Y/N pressed a practised thumb between them, trying to soothe them away.

“Shit…” he muttered. “Did I do something wrong?”

“What? No!” She cupped his cheeks. “Astarion you’ve done nothing!”

“Then – then what?” He was tentative, still, scared Y/N might be angry at him. Or worse – wanted to leave, but her next words erased all that doubt.

“I…” She took in a deep breath. “Astarion, I met your parents today.”

Whatever he had expected, clearly that hadn’t been it. Probably a confession she’d met a past love, that their feelings were reignited and she wanted to go with them. But definitely not that.

He blinked once, twice, trice, completely and utterly stupefied before a small whisper of “What?” passed his lips.

“It’s why I’m so late,” Y/N explained. “They’d heard a rumour, that I knew you and had travelled with you during our tadpole situation, and came to me. Astarion, your parents are looking for you…”

A million thoughts seemed to swirl in his head, but Y/N held onto his hand through all of them.

“What,” he cleared his throat, “what did you tell them?”

“That I’d find them once I figured out what to do?”

“Which means?”

“Which means I would come home, give you this information and let you figure out what you’d like to do…”

So many emotions flashed across his face, but Y/N no longer needed that mind flayer tadpole connection it created – Astarion was an open book for her to read.

Joy. Such indisputable joy shone in his scarlet eyes before being consumed by confusion. Then anger and disgust and love, but by the end of it all his heart settled on one feeling – fear.

It’s what it knew best, though Y/N had tried her hardest to reduce it to ashes, yet still it lingered. She understood it, despite not being happy he ever had to feel it.

He feared what to do, what would be the right choice to make, he feared their reactions and what they would say of his disappearance or of his newest… condition. Would they accept him? Or would they be repulsed by him?

“What – what would I even say to them?” Astarion searched her Y/E/C eyes as if they held an answer, but when one magically didn’t appear, he hung his head, a tear rolling down his cheek. “I can’t even remember what they looked like. Their names, the house we used to live in… it’s all a fog.”

Y/N tried to give him an encouraging smile. “Well, your mother – she has the most beautiful green eyes. Like that dress you made for me for Summer Solstice, that same shade. And – and she has a little beauty mark on her cheek.” With a gentle thumb, she brushed over the mole. “Right in that same spot.”

His brows furrowed in concentration; his lips pinched tightly. “I – I remember blue eyes. Not green.”

“That might be your father's. His are azure I’d say. Like the summer sky. Gods, Astarion,” Y/N breathed out. “You look so much like them, but… honestly, the only thing you need to know right now is that they looked relieved.” Her voice was soothing as he tried to find lies in her words, but there would be none. “I didn’t tell them anything apart from the fact that you’re alive, and all I saw was complete and utter relief.”

Y/N placed a strand of hair behind his ear as he pondered. His carmine eyes slid to hers. “Do they want to see me?”

“Yes. It was the whole reason they sought me out because I might have a single scrap of information on you.” She’d mention the kidnapping later. Or maybe never, depending on how everything went. What he didn’t know couldn’t hurt him.

“Is it,” he hesitated, as if ashamed to be asking such a question. “Is it alright if I think this over for a bit? I’m just – there’s so much going on in my head…”

“Of course, Star!” Y/N cupped his cheeks and placed a reassuring kiss on his forehead. “Take all the time you need.”

“Thank you,” he sighed, his shoulders dropping, but she just shook her head.

“Nothing to thank me for. Not for this.”

And so, they continued on like that for a few days – Y/N didn’t bring the subject up, but she made sure Astarion knew, she’d be there whenever he needed to talk. Yet her mind couldn’t help but worry about the two elves in that little cottage on the other side of the town. How horrid it must be to wait for an answer that might never come, but her love was her first and only priority. When he decided it would be time, she’d support him no matter what.

It was a week after the revelation (and subsequent freakout on Astarion’s part when Y/N had removed her clothes before him, and he saw the raw skin and bruises on her ribs. She spent the whole night convincing him it was fine and talking him down from hunting the mercenary and bleeding him dry. She didn’t mention it had been his parents who’d hired him but rather said it had been an unfortunate coincidence), when Astarion awoke with a certain determination, shaking her awake.

She swatted at him like an insect buzzing by her ear. “Leave me be, you blood-sucking, elf!” Y/N grumbled, burying herself under the duvet. “It’s too early. And stop hogging the covers!”

She was just about to elbow him in the ribs if he didn’t let her sleep more, but what he said was like cold ice being poured over her, waking her up completely.

“I think I want to see my parents.”

Y/N was sat in a second. The sheet dropped down, exposing her naked chest, but she didn’t even feel the chilly air biting at her skin, even though Astarion’s gaze immediately dropped down to her breasts, eyes blazing with want.

Rolling her own eyes, she pulled the cover so that it obscured her indecency. Though it was his favourite outfit of hers, they needed to focus on the important things. “Are you sure? You can take all the time you need. There is no rush to this, and it’s a huge decision to make.”

“I’m sure,” Astarion sighed, running a hand through his moon-white locks and dropping back onto the pillows. “It’s pretty much all I’ve been thinking about.”

Y/N worried her lip before sliding back down next to him, letting him wrap his arms around her body. She knew in moments like these, Astarion needed reassurance, and he craved being close to her. Holding her grounded him, and made his scattered thoughts into something solid.

She kissed right above where his heart lay. “If, you’re sure.”

“I am… I just… Will you be there?” Astarion looked down at her.

The woman gave him a smile. “Nowhere I’d rather be than by your side.”

Gently, he brushed a finger against her cheekbone and leaned to kiss her, thankful he’d found someone to walk the world with, especially during the moments he feared he might break.

The day before they’d decided on meeting, Y/N ventured out to the cabin to inform the elven couple of Astarion’s decision. Once they’d seen her walking up through the window, they were out before she even managed to get to the door, faces full of hope.

“Astarion, he wants to come and see you, but there are some… conditions…”

His mother’s brow furrowed, the grimace so familiar it sent a pang through Y/N’s heart, but she swallowed it. “Whatever he needs. Whatever you both need. Anything for our little Star.”

“So… please just don’t question this, but umm… physical contact – I know I can’t possibly understand how you feel, but let him come to you first. It might not make sense, but it’s important that he is the one to make that step.”

“Of course,” Astarion's father nodded, his mother eagerly agreeing.

“And umm… he’ll be different. He might not look like the elf you remember him being. The world wasn’t kind to him for a long time… Please don’t mention this.”

Pain flashed across their faces at her words. They must have assumed something horrible had happened to him, but to have it confirmed was a different kind of agony. But as Y/N had asked – they didn’t question, simply nodded, holding onto one another a bit tighter.

“Alright.” Her heart was somewhat settled. “Thank you. We – uh- we’ll see you later tonight then.”

And with that, she left only to find Astarion pacing the inside of their hallway upon her return.

“Is it sundown already?” He snapped his neck to her as she removed her cloak, visibly upset when Y/N shook her head.

“A couple more hours, I’m afraid,” she said, taking his hand and kissing his palm, placing it against her cheek. “Please stop worrying. It will all be alright.”

“But what if I’m making a mistake?”

She raised her brow. “Do you think you’re making a mistake?”

“N-no?” Astarion huffed. “I don’t know. I know I want to see them at least once, but what if it’s best to leave the past in the past? Why torture myself and exhume it, so to speak?”

“You can leave it all behind if that’s what you wish. But, Star, you also have the rarest of opportunities people get – a second chance.” She stepped close to him, pulling his head down by the nape of his neck so they could rest their foreheads against one another. “But you can always leave. You can always say “no.” And if someone doesn’t get that, no matter who they might be, I will gut them navel to throat.”

Astarion chuckled, brushing his nose against hers. “My knight in bloody armour, always ready to ride into battle for me.”

Y/N pecked his lips in response. “As long as I get my kisses at the end of it – without a second to spare.”

They spent the couple of hours waiting until the sun went down cleaning up around the house and then it was time to go.

As Astarion took a deep breath before closing the door, Y/N squeezed his hand. “We can turn back whenever you want to.”

But he seemed determined, only giving her a reassuring smile and twining their fingers together, her hand in his solid hold.

They walked slowly, enjoying the warm night gracing Baldur’s Gate, and soon enough they were through the city and past the woods, a small log cabin coming into view.

He stopped them a few feet away, taking in a moment to gather his thoughts and emotions.

Y/N glanced at him encouragingly. “Are you ready, Star?”

Astarion took in a deep breath, held it in for a moment and then exhaled, nodding. With this confirmation, she released his hand and ventured to the door, gently rapping her knuckles against it, immediately returning to stand beside her lover.

Instantly his palm was back into hers, as if he needed her to ground him, reassure him everything would be alright as nervous energy coursed through his veins while they waited for the inhabitants to come and see them. And though it was probably no more than ten seconds since she’d knocked, it felt like time had stood still. Once the doors opened, even nature quieted down.

The breeze shushed the tweeting birds and seemingly even the worms digging underground stopped their burrowing as finally, after two hundred years, the lost Ancunin son returned.

They stood like that for what seemed like ages, just taking one another in, before a small sob of Astarion’s name from his mother’s lips broke the spellbound silence.

It’s when he rushed for her, the elf already on her feet, meeting him halfway. Her arms wrapped tight around his body, hands smoothing down the back of his head as all the while she kept whispering “My Star, my little Star, you’re home.”

Y/N was on standby, ready to rip her away if Astarion became overwhelmed. She’d asked them to allow him to be the one to make the first step, and they had, but with such all-encompassing feelings, she just wanted him to be safe.

Though all that anxiety dissipated like ice under the blazing hear of the sun when Astarion practically melted against his mother, his fingers digging into her shoulders and back as if he never wished to be let go, both of them crumbling to their knees, still in each other’s embrace.

Tears welled along Y/N’s bottom lashes and when his father joined them, wrapping his arms around his family, they fell like rain on an autumn evening. She had to press a hand against her mouth to not sob out loud, but it didn’t seem like anyone would care, as Y/N noted Astarion’s shoulders shaking while his mother and father were freely crying, all the while touching and caressing his face, trying to ingrain the memory of having their son back in their arms.

She couldn’t imagine that feeling, didn’t ever want to, of finally being reunited with a family which you were so brutally ripped away from. Y/N almost wanted to resurrect Cazador, just so she could drive a stake through his heart again, but that might’ve been a bit too morbid of a thought in such a tender moment.

“You’re home.” His mother pulled back, cupping Astarion’s cheeks and smiling from ear to ear. “Our little Star is back home.”

“I’m sorry it took me so long,” he choked out, but his father shook his head.

“Doesn’t matter. You’re here. That’s enough for us.”

Y/N watched as he took in the people who’d searched for him relentlessly. He never knew they’d never given up. She wondered if there would be a time, he’d believe he was worth all it. She certainly hoped so.

“Thank you,” the elf with eyes like jade said, snapping her eyes towards Y/N. “You have no idea what kind of a gift you’ve bestowed upon us. We will never be able to repay you.”

She could only wave them off, a knot in her throat. “You owe me nothing. Seeing this – this is enough for me. I’ll – uh – I’ll leave you to it then.”

Just as she was about to turn around, Astarion jumped to his feet, untangling himself from the limbs of his parents, eyes full of concern. “What? Why? What’s wrong?” He was by her side in an instant, pulling her hand to rest against his chest.

“Nothing!” Y/N shook her head. “I just – I just think maybe I should take my leave. I can be back in a few hours if you’d like, but this just all seems like – like a private family reunion.”

Astarion scoffed, his free arm weaving around her waist, completely offended. “And what exactly do you think you are to me if not family, my love? Arguably, you might be the most important part of it.”

“Well, I wouldn’t say that -,”

“Hush now!” he scolded her. “You promised to be by my side through everything. Are you breaking that promise?”

“No, I just,” she stammered. “Are you sure you don’t want me to leave you to it? This just feels awfully personal.”

“My love, you are the keeper of my heart. You are my true home.” Astarion cupped her cheek, resting his brow against hers, chest against chest, not caring who might see. “Without you, none of this would have happened. I could still be on that beach with a mind flayer tadpole wriggling behind my eye.” He took her hand, and kissed her knuckles, sighing as they brushed against his jaw. “I don’t want to do this without you. I want to relearn who my parents are, and I want them to get to know me, but a non-negotiable part of that is you. That is if it’s alright with you?”

A tear slipped down her cheek, as she looked deep into those ruby eyes that once held nothing but fear and pain, only to now show love and compassion and happiness. When she smiled, her grin could have rivalled the sun itself. “I’d be honoured.”

When they glanced at the two elves by the threshold of the house, they noted the horrified looks on their faces. Astarion’s guard was immediately up, but his mother beat him to it.

“My Star, I am so sorry!” She put a hand over her mouth. “We swear we didn’t know you two were lovers! We just...” She glanced at her husband in desperation, but it seemed the little scene they’d put on had rendered him speechless. “Had we known, we would have never…”

Astarion squinted at her, a dangerous note appearing in his voice. “Never would have what?”

“Oh Gods, we had your partner kidnapped,” his father finally got out, eyes only widening in more shock as it settled that Y/N wasn’t just a travelling companion or a friend, but just what she really meant to Astarion.

“You did what?!” His head snapped to Y/N who now retreated to stand between the two shocked elves, and her quite furious boyfriend.

“Astarion, it’s alright,” she tried to calm him down. “They didn’t know! Besides, I heard them arguing with that mercenary. They didn’t hurt me. In fact, I,” she let out a nervous chuckle, “I held a knife to your mother’s throat. So, call it even and let’s move past it?”

His gaze was hot like the flames, as it burned into her. “We will discuss this later.” He pointed an accusatory finger at her before taking a deep breath and exhaling. “This is absolutely not how I ever imagined a family reunion to go, let alone the introduction of my partner.”

Y/N’s shoulders dropped as he broke the settled tension, but something in his eyes told her she’d pay for her omissions. And oh, how delicious that punishment would be.

His mother still seemed to be all nerves as she invited them inside, spouting apologies in Y/N’s direction, but when she took the elf's hand in hers and gave a comforting embrace, she relaxed a little. “Let’s let the bygones be bygones.”

“I’d appreciate that,” she smiled, and wrinkles of age and time appeared around her eyes.

It was awkward at first, two centuries of hurt laying between them, two centuries of torture on Astarion’s end, of lost love and people, but slowly they opened up. And when his mother mentioned how he always used to bury his nose into strawberry fields, because it reminded him of his mother’s hair care products, it was like a damn had been opened.

The memories were still there, buried under layers of pain and horrors, but there. Maybe a little jumbled up and out of sorts, but with every hour spent together, locks were being broken and a light long lost lit up again.

Astarion had changed, but so had his parents. He let them know of his adventures, how he met Y/N and how she had turned his world upside down but abstained from the more gruesome parts. He wasn’t ready for that. Not yet. Maybe not ever, but if he so wished, she knew his parents would be there to listen and welcome his vulnerably with open arms.

An hour before the sun resumed its place in the sky, Y/N nudged Astarion, telling him it was time to leave. She had little doubt in her mind, his parents had caught onto what he was, even if they hadn’t mentioned Cazador. If not for the shape of his elongated canines, or the colour of his eyes, which Y/N had found out had been a beautiful shade of pale green, then because of the brutal scars on his neck. But they still pulled him into a hug with such vigour, it was like they feared they’d never see him again, which was probably a thought always haunting their minds.

“Would – would you like to come over to ours?” Astarion asked, still holding onto his mother’s hands. “It’s a bit of a mess, our place, but if you come after the sun’s down, I’m sure we can have it proper enough to take on guests.”

It was an odd request, but thankfully, neither his mother nor father said anything about the specific time request, simply hugged him once more and promised to be by their door the second the sun dipped, wine and lemon cakes in hand.

As they waved their goodbyes, Astarion slipped his palm into Y/N’s and made sure they walked all the way back like that. Once behind a closed door, he pulled her into his chest relishing in the way their bodies melded together – two puzzle pieces finally connecting and forming the most magnificent picture to exist.

“What is it like to be finally home?” Y/N asked as he swayed them to a tune only, he heard.

Astarion shook his head, pulling slightly back so he could cup her jaw. “My love, I have been home for a long time now. I’ve been safe and cared for, all thanks to you.” His eyes were so full of love and adoration, she almost choked on a breath. “Now… now it just feels complete. So thank you… thank you for being my home,” he muttered that little confession against her skin, pressing a kiss to her forehead. “Thank you for keeping me safe.”

“Always, my love.” Y/N didn’t hide the tears rolling down her face and he brushed them away with a soft thumb. “Always.”

When their gazes locked, all she could see was excitement for what the new day had to offer, and she knew whatever was in store, as long as they were by one another’s side, there was nothing they couldn’t overcome.

But for all that, there was an important thing she was unaware of.

As Y/N entered their living room, talking to herself and making a list of what they had to do before his parents arrived, Astarion stood and watched her, leaning against the doorframe, all the while his hands rested in his pocket, where in one of them, a beautiful ring was being twirled between his fingers.

Before they’d left, his mother had slyly pulled it off her own hand, pressing it into his palm, and whispering to him while hugging that she didn’t want to see Y/N without it the next time around.

Astarion had no intention of living his life without Y/N as his fianc�� for a second longer.

When she turned around to find him on one knee, he didn’t even get to ask the question before she responded with a shout of “Yes!” and jumped on him, pulling him into a kiss he swore breathed life into his still chest.

He couldn’t wait to reintroduce Y/N to his parents as his intended.

Now all was as it should be. He was finally home. And somewhere in the garden, a rose bloomed in full.

Tags:

Everything tags: @palaiasaurus64 @supernaturalbaesduh @thatawkwardlittlefangirl @sea040561 @staryeyedgirl @deathbyarabbit @m-a-t-91 @maladaptive-ninja-returns @averyrogers83 @gallifreyansass @dewy-biitch @avxgers @unlikelygalaxygiver @magicwithaknife @ollyoxenfrees @bnhvrdy @tvwhoresblog @thatkindofgurl @sj-thefan @lestersglitterglue @im-squished @strangersstranger

Astarion tags: @spacebarbarianweird

A/N: This idea was inspired by that one post of a painting Astarion's parents probably had of him, but had put away somewhere just so they didn't have to look a the son they lost, so I rectified it (Link to the inspo pic :) :( Now they have a portrait of Astarion and his love right above their fire place :)

P.S. my tags are always open :)

P.S.S. please don't plagiarise or repost on other platforms.

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propertyofwicked · 1 year ago

Text

HOT WINGS - LN

lando and his girlfriend take on the quadrant hot wings challenge

based on this request ✧ my inbox is open! ✧

warnings - literally none, quite short, some swearing. this is mainly just chaos if im completely honest

masterlist the playlist

“ok guys we’re starting off easy - this is siracha, i believe,” max said, looking to lando and y/n who sat opposite him.

“easy? i get lemon and herb at nandos,” lando whined, but still taking a bite from the wing.

“lan it’s just siracha? that’s basically mayo?” y/n told him, staring in disbelief as she saw him wince at the spice.

“easy for you to say - you smother your food in it like there’s no tomorrow.”

“max just ask the question,” she prompted, ignoring her boyfriends complaints.

“ok bossy - erm, what was your first experience of motorsport?”

the two of them answered the questions as best as they could, max trying not to laugh harder with each spice increase. even y/n was struggling, but not as much as lando who was now turning red and standing up to walk off the pain.

“this is “da bomb” - 300,000 on the scoville scal- lando are you good?” max started, interrupting himself at the sight of lando ripping the lid off the ice cream tub.

“just ask the fucking question max,” lando shouted, whilst rubbing ice cream around his lips, “please.”

“you’ve gotta eat the chicken first you muppet,” y/n chimed in, holding out a wing with the tiniest amount of sauce on it.

“hold my hand,” he asked her, taking the wing from her before grabbing her hand and interlocking their fingers. his grip was tight, and it didn’t help that he remained stood up, so her arm was suspended in the air as they both took a bite of the chicken.

“hold my hand??” max said through his laughter, “you’re eating chicken not giving birth?”

“the pain is worse,” lando told him, quickly dodging the wing that y/n launched in the direction of his head.

“y/n - can you explain this photo for everyone please?” max asked, holding up his phone to show an image of her, fast asleep on his bathroom floor, shoes still on and her head using a box of fries and donner kebab as a pillow.

“max fewtrell you PROMISED you’d never bring that picture up,” she shouted, covering her mouth as the spice travelled.

“answer the question.”

“i was drunk and tir- and oh my god is this sauce even legal?” she asked him quickly, sticking her tongue out to attempt to weaken the intensity.

“you know there’s still more, right?” he laughed at her, watching the way her arms reached out to lando. though she didn’t want him, she wanted the ice cream he was clutching to his chest, but he wouldn’t give it up.

“lando pass me the fucking ice cream or ill tell everyone that you cry when you cum”

“oh god please cut that out,” lando laughed, though giving up the ice cream quickly.

“no denying it though mate?” max laughed out, smacking his hand on the table.

“my mouth is in too much pain. should i be sweating? why am i sweating?” he continued, grabbing the bottle of milk in front of him.

“lando - can you explain what happened in this picture here?” max asked, holding up his phone once more.

milk shot from lando’s mouth, spraying across the table and onto y/n as he saw the picture, laughter taking over.

“i’m just not cut out for cycling,” he said with a shrug, before downing another mouthful of milk.

“why was his picture so much nicer than mine?” y/n asked with a whine before shovelling more ice cream into her mouth.

“you always look good y/n,” lando tried to reassure her with a smile.

“shut the fuck up,” she replied, flinging a spoon of ice cream at him, melted slightly as it landed slap bang on his nose.

“i know you’re lashing out because of the spice but honestly that is quite refreshing,” he laughed at her, using the back of his hand to wipe the food away.

“ok - hell fire hot sauce, this one is 2 million on the scoville scale.”

“2 MILLION?” lando shouted at his friend, y/n mouth just opened in disbelief.

“it’s ok baby we’re almost done,” she told him, rubbing his shoulder softly.

“i can’t wait to feel my mouth again,” he replied, ignoring her affection slightly before turning to face her as he wiped the sweat off her forehead, “if you look like that i don’t want to imagine what i look like.”

“rude.”

the two of them took their final bites, trying to remain sitting still as the spice took over but with little success. y/n took to crouching down on the floor, clutching at lando’s arm as he laughed at her.

“y/n, final question - who is the best looking f1 driver?” max asked, looking between his friends with a grin.

“ever or current?”

“ever,” max told her as lando whipped his head round to stare at her intently, but she didn’t notice as she had turned her head to stare into the camera directly.

“jenson button i am asking for one chance,” y/n said bluntly, bringing her hands into a prayer.

“jens- Y/N?? are you kidding me right now?”

“he’s a good looking man what can i say,” she replied with a shrug, smiling wickedly at her boyfriend, “at least he doesn’t have ice cream running down his face right now.”

“what about current drivers?” lando asked her, attempting to remain composed despite the fire burning through his mouth. she turned her head to the camera again, slowly.

“fernando alonso i am asking for one chanc-”

“FERNANDO?” lando shouted, milk spilling down his top once more, “when my mouth doesn’t feel like literal hell we are so breaking up.”

“but if someone asked you who the best looking member of quadrant was you wouldn’t say me,” she retorted before taking a spoonful of ice cream.

“well no id have to say max.”

“exactly.”

“y/n don’t be silly - look at him!” lando shouted back, hand extending to point at the man who was now wheezing in laughter, clutching at his sides.

#lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris smut #lando x reader #lando smut #lando norris imagine #lando norris fanfic #formula 1 #mclaren f1 #mclaren #lando norris fluff #propertyofwicked

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dreamdrbbles · 5 months ago

Text

TRUTH OR...DARE?

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: you’re a cheater babe, sawry!

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: aaron pierre as himself & the black!fem reader as you.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: heavy smut, oral (female receiving), adultery, protected sex, dirty talk, and some more stuff. also, please do not try this at home, pretty babies. minors, do not interact.

It had been four years since you stepped foot in a club, and it showed. Marriage had introduced your social life to a bright red octagon, halting any late nights out or wild adventures with friends. But when your girls planned an impromptu trip to New Orleans to celebrate your big promotion at work, you couldn’t say no. You needed the break, no, you deserved it. You were especially grateful they chose a spot that fit your aesthetic. The club was classy, with dim lighting that set a sultry tone and a strict over-25 entry policy. The drinks were strong, the music was hitting just right, and the men? Fine as hell. You were married—somewhat happily, but there was no harm in looking. Right?

“Ooh! Let’s play truth or dare!” Ashlee’s voice cut through the bass-heavy beat of Glorilla rapping about her love for being outside.

Her mischievous grin told you everything you needed to know: trouble was coming. You and Layla exchanged a knowing look, silently agreeing that your friend was already on one. The three of you had been thick as thieves since college, and truth or dare had a history of bringing chaos into your lives. It was never really truth or dare—it was dare or dare, and Ashlee’s ideas always toed the line between bold and outrageous. “Ash, you need to put the Casamigos down. I see you already on some bullshit,” you said, side-eyeing her as she poured another round of tequila shots.

“I’m not!” she defended, her voice dripping with feigned innocence. “But since you got so much to say… truth or dare?” Your competitive spirit flared instantly. Ashlee knew how much you hated backing down from a challenge. She fixed you with a smirk, her eyes glinting with the kind of energy that let you know she’d already thought this through.

“Oh, what the fuck… dare,” you said, waving her on. You figured she’d keep it simple; a dance with a stranger, getting a man’s number, something light. But you should’ve remembered who you were dealing with. Ashlee’s grin widened, wicked and full of intent.

“I dare you to have a one-night stand.” You nearly choked on your lemon drop. “Excuse me?” Ashlee didn’t flinch. She just crossed her arms, leaning back in her chair with the confidence of someone who knew she’d just dropped the gauntlet. “This heffa is crazy.” you muttered under your breath, wiping your mouth as you set the glass down. You shot her a look that could’ve burned through steel. She knew you were married. She’d been standing right there when you said “I do,” the one who held your bouquet and straightened your veil before you walked down the aisle. Sure, Ashlee had never liked Derrick—she thought he was controlling and boring, but this? This was outrageous. “Daring me to commit adultery is insane. No,” you said firmly, shaking your head.

But Ashlee didn’t back down. She leaned forward, her elbows on her knees, locking eyes with you. “It’s not like you’re happy with Derrick anyway.” she teased, her voice just loud enough for you and Layla to hear over the music.

You stiffened. Ashlee had struck a nerve, and she knew it.

You looked down at your drink, swirling it in the glass as the weight of her words settled over you. Your marriage wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t great either. Derrick had been distant lately, and the spark between you had faded into routine. You loved him… but sometimes you wondered if that was enough. Layla cut in, sensing the tension. “Ash, come on. That’s a little much, don’t you think?” The most logical of your friend trifecta added, bringing some levity to the situation. “Fine, fine.” Ashlee said with a shrug, raising her hands in mock surrender. “But if you don’t take this dare, then you have to at least… flirt with someone. You’ve been locked up in that marriage too long. Have a little fun.” You sighed, your sense of spontaneity battling with your sense of loyalty. It wasn’t like flirting was cheating… was it?

You tilted back your glass, letting the last of your drink slide down your throat, the burn of the vodka sharp and unforgiving. The cocktail glass hit the table with a decisive clink as you set it down, and the tension at your table crackled in the air. Your best friends were watching you closely, Ashlee with a look of smug challenge, and Layla with quiet pleading in her eyes, silently urging you to stay grounded. Tonight, you knew you were about to break one of their hearts. Would it be the devil on your shoulder or the angel? Taking a deep breath, you pushed back from the table, standing to your feet.

The movement was smooth, deliberate, almost as if you were psyching yourself up for the dare. You smoothed your hands down your dress, tugging it slightly to make sure it covered what needed covering—but there was no hiding the bold tattoo on your thigh: a coiled snake intertwined with roses. That tattoo was a relic of your younger, wilder days, when you were eighteen, impulsive, and drunk on a spring break trip you’d never forget.

Back then, you were reckless, bold, and free. For a brief moment, the memory of that version of yourself stirred something deep inside. “Flirt with a random man, got it.” you said, nodding as if to convince yourself. Your voice carried a mix of determination and resignation, a subtle reminder that you didn’t back down from dares. The beat of the club vibrated through your chest as you scanned the crowd, searching for your unsuspecting target. A few pairs of eyes lingered on you as you stepped away from the table, the confidence in your stride undeniable, even if you were faking it. Tonight, you weren’t just completing a dare, you were testing the edges of who you used to be. But where to start?

‘The bar’, you thought. Because you’d definitely need another round of liquid courage to go through with this. You sauntered to the crowded bar, sifting through bodies until you reached the counter. The bartender was a beautiful woman with bohemian locs that fell to her waist, beads adorned the feature. God, you loved New Orleans. The date was the flirt with someone, not a man in particular. Could making eyes at the gorgeous mixologist count? Probably not. Before you could pipe up to speak, you were bumped out of the way. Your eyebrows furrowed in frustration as you looked up at the towering figure. “Uh! Excuse me!” You called out, her voice only carrying a few inches away from you, but apparently it hit the intended target.

The male turned around and you were instantly stunned. Not only was he tall, but he was fine. Fine was an understatement. When God was done molding him even he had to give himself a pat on the back. From his chiseled jaw line to his ocean blue eyes that were covered by gold wire glasses, his features immediately enticed you. Fuck. The top two buttons on the shirt he wore were unbutton, revealing a gold chain with a simple cross pendant, shit had you ready to confess your sins. “Oh, my apologies love. I didn’t see you there.” He responded, a british accent stunned you, but the depth and rasp of his voice almost made you melt where you stood. “Let me buy you a drink, since I cut you in the queue.” His smile, FUCK. You giggled in response, as if you weren’t about to give him a piece of your mind just ten seconds before you got trapped in his eyes. Flirt. “Good idea, that’ll save you from my wrath.” You responded, your orbs holding his as you naturally tilted your head to the side. “A lemon drop, please.”

“Lemon drop.” he repeated, nodding toward the bartender. But his eyes never left yours, and the way they raked over you, slow and deliberate, made you feel like the most captivating thing in the room. “And an old fashion for me.”

As the bartender prepared your drink, he leaned in slightly, closing the already narrow space between you. His scent wrapped around you, warm, woodsy, and intoxicating. You could almost feel the heat radiating off him, and it took every ounce of composure not to let your knees give out.

“I’m Aaron, by the way.” he said, his voice lower now, meant just for you. You swallowed hard, your tongue darting out to wet your lips as you replied, “Nice to meet you, Aaron. I’m…” You trailed off, momentarily distracted as his gaze flicked to your mouth.

“Beautiful name.” he said before you could finish. Your cheeks warmed, but you held his gaze, determined not to let him see how flustered you were. “I didn’t tell you my name.” You replied, confused.

“No,” he said, leaning in just enough for his breath to brush against your ear, “but I’m sure it’s beautiful.”

Your drink arrived, breaking the moment, and you reached for it, your fingers brushing against his. The touch was brief, but it sent a jolt of electricity up your arm.

“Thank you,” you said, raising the glass slightly, your voice steady despite the way your pulse raced.

“Don’t mention it,” he replied, his eyes darkening slightly as he leaned back, his smirk now a full-fledged grin.

Flirting had never felt so natural, or so dangerous.

Suddenly, Ashlee’s dare didn’t seem so far-fetched. The idea of a one-night encounter felt thrillingly close, the kind of reckless decision you hadn’t made in years. As Aaron turned to walk away, you acted without thinking, reaching out to lightly touch his arm. The firmness beneath your fingertips sent a jolt through you, and he stopped, glancing back at you with curiosity in his eyes.

Boldly, you slipped your arm around his, letting him guide you through the lively crowd. The club’s energy buzzed around you, but it all seemed to fade, the world narrowing to just the two of you. His confidence radiated with every step, and you found yourself mesmerized by the ease with which he moved.

Eventually, he stopped at a table in a quieter corner, turning to face you. He leaned in close, his breath warm against your ear as he spoke. “Beautiful,” he murmured, his deep voice sending a shiver down your spine. “If I’d known buying you that drink would bring you this close, I would’ve done it the moment I saw you walk in.”

Your cheeks burned, the compliment sending a rush of heat through your body. But then it hit you-he still didn't know your name. You opened your mouth to tell him, but he cut you off, pressing a finger gently against your lips.

"You're going to be whoever and whatever I want you to be tonight," he said, his tone commanding but laced with an edge of teasing. "Understood?"

Yes, fuckin’ sir.

You felt his words settle deep in your core, your heart hammering as you nodded, unable to find the words to respond. Then, remembering yourself, you let out a soft laugh. “I guess I should thank my friends for daring me to flirt with someone tonight,” you said, your tone light but tinged with nerves.

His brow arched, amusement flickering in his gaze. “Just flirting?” he asked, the corner of his mouth lifting in a small smirk. “That’s a pretty tame dare.”

“Well…” You hesitated, glancing down briefly. “They actually dared me to have a one-night stand, but ⸺.”

“Am I not worthy of that dare?” he interrupted smoothly, his voice playful but edged with curiosity. Your lips parted, unsure how to respond to his suggestive quip.

“Maybe,” you replied, feeling your heart race under his gaze. “But it’s complicated.” You lifted your left hand, the glint of your wedding band catching the light. His eyes followed the motion, lingering for just a moment before returning to yours. There was no judgment there, only intrigue. He leaned back slightly, sipping his drink, his calm demeanor unshaken.

“Is he here?” Aaron asked, his tone casual, though his words held a weight that made your breath catch. “Your husband? Is he here?” He continued when you didn’t respond quick enough.

You shook your head slowly, the honesty in your response surprising even you. “No.”

“Then it sounds like you have a choice to make, Love.” he said simply, setting his drink down on the table. His hand brushed yours lightly, a fleeting touch that felt electric. For the first time in years, you felt truly seen, the weight of routine and expectation momentarily lifted. The noise of the club melted away, leaving only the pounding of your heart and the magnetic pull of his presence. This wasn’t about making a decision yet; it was about the possibility ⸺ a spark of something wild and untamed.

Indeed, you did. Was one moment of indulgence worth betraying the vows you made? Was your competitive nature driving this, or something else entirely? Every rational thought warned you to step back, but then you caught sight of Aaron’s smirk; mischievous, yet inviting—and all logic slipped away. The heat in his gaze made your pussy throb, and the thrill of the unknown sent a shiver down your spine.

“Let’s go.” You said, the words spilling out before doubt could creep in. Your voice carried a conviction that surprised even you.

His lips curved into a slow, knowing grin, one that sent a wave of heat down your body. He finished his drink in one smooth motion, setting the glass down with a deliberate air. “No hesitation,” he murmured, almost to himself, before reaching for your hand.

His touch was warm, firm, and commanding as he led you through the crowded club. The air inside felt suffocating now, charged with tension, but as soon as you stepped outside, the cool New Orleans night greeted you like a cleansing balm. Yet even the breeze couldn’t temper the heat coursing through your veins.

While you waited for the valet, Aaron stood close, closer than he needed to. The faint scent of his cologne lingered between you, earthy and rich, making it harder to think straight. His hand remained on yours, his thumb absentmindedly stroking your skin in small, soothing circles.

A tinge of self-preservation kicked in, and you fished your phone from your purse, typing a quick message in the group chat.

“Leaving with him. Keep an eye on my location.”

You hit send and glanced up at him, finding him watching you with a curious tilt of his head. “Taking precautions?” He asked, his voice low, teasing, but with an undercurrent of respect. “Of course.” you replied, meeting his gaze with a faint smirk. “You’re still a stranger, no matter how fine you are.” He chuckled, the sound rich and inviting, as the valet pulled up with his car, a sleek, black luxury vehicle that seemed to match the polished disposition he exuded. He opened the passenger door for you, stepping aside with a small bow that was both playful and impossibly smooth.

“After you, beautiful.” he said, his tone soft yet dripping with intent. You hesitated for the briefest moment, one last flicker of restraint threatening to pull you back. But then you stepped forward, sliding into the plush leather seat, the door closing behind you like the start of a story you’d never expected to write. As he rounded the car and slid into the driver’s seat, you couldn’t help but glance at him, a mixture of anticipation and trepidation swirling inside you. He caught your gaze and smiled, a slow, devastating twitch of his lips that seemed to promise everything and demand nothing.

The car ride was steeped in a quiet tension that buzzed between you like static electricity. Neither of you said much, but the silence wasn’t awkward ⸺ it was charged. Every so often, your eyes would meet, and in that brief exchange, a mutual understanding passed between you. This is really happening. Aaron’s right hand rested on your thigh, warm and firm against your skin. The casual intimacy of the gesture gave you goosebumps, but it also grounded you. His thumb occasionally traced small, idle circles, igniting tiny sparks that made your breath hitch. Meanwhile, he drove with practiced ease, his left hand guiding the sleek car through the city streets like he’d done it a hundred times before.

As the neon lights of the club district gave way to quieter, tree-lined roads, your heartbeat quickened. His place wasn’t far, and the realization settled over you with the weight of inevitability. You had crossed a line tonight, and every passing second carried you further from the point of no return. When he finally pulled into the driveway of a modern, elegant townhouse, he killed the engine and turned to you. His gaze was steady, his aquamarine eyes searching yours as if to make absolutely sure. “You ready?”

The words were simple, but the way he said them ⸺ low, careful, and tinged with concern, made your chest tighten. You nodded, your voice momentarily caught in your throat. “Yeah.” You managed softly. It was way too late to back out now, and honestly, you didn’t want to. Aaron smiled, a subtle grin that made your stomach flutter. He stepped out first, walking around to open your door.

Always the gentleman, it seemed, an unexpected touch for the man who now held the reins of this impulsive, reckless night. As you stepped out of the car, the cool night air brushed against your skin, heightening your senses. Aaron’s hand found yours again, his grip firm yet reassuring as he led you up the short walkway. The sound of your heels clicking against the pavement felt louder than it should have, like a drumbeat marking the anxiousness building between you. At the door, he paused, his keys in hand, and turned to face you one more time. “If you’re not sure, we can stop here.” he said, his timbre gentle but resolute. “No pressure, no hard feelings.” Your heart raced at his sincerity, but there was no hesitation left in you now.

“I’m sure.” you reassured, your voice steady this time. You were so fucking sure. With a small nod, he unlocked the door, holding it open for you as you stepped into his world, leaving everything else behind.

You barely made it through the threshold before you were engaged in a steamy kiss, and you were ripping each other’s clothes off like it was the end of the world. Patience was no longer a virtue, the only thing that mattered was the dare you had to complete. You two left a trail of clothes to the bedroom, where he pushed you down on the bed and demanded that you get in your favorite position. He would take you anyway you wanted. Without a second thought you rolled over on your stomach, pushing your ass out with your top half pressed firmly against the bed. The arch in your back made him hiss. You spread your legs just wide enough so that he could see your plump sex. “That’s a pretty pussy. Almost as beautiful as you.” He commented as he walked up behind you, slamming both of his hands down on your ass before he kneeled down behind you and released a wad of spit onto your throbbing mound. His tongue followed, gliding up and down your leaking slit with precision, he moaned as he tasted you.

Your nectar satisfying the male’s natural sweet tooth as he continued to indulge himself in your waters. “Oh my god…Aaron.” You squealed as his tongue ventured inside of you, caressing your walls as he thumbed your clit in a slow, figure eight motion. “You’re gonna make me cum already!” You exclaim, causing him to pop his plump lips off of your southern lips.

“Not yet…this is a one night stand.” He mumbled as he stood up behind you, gripping your waist and positioning you just right. He gripped his manhood in his hand and he slowly worked his tip up and down your opening, watching as your glaze coats his thick tip. “That means I got you all night.” He uttered as he slid inside of you, your walls clenching tightly to envelope him inside like a glove. You whimpered with every inch, he had your husband by at least three inches, but you were a determined one. You relaxed your body fully as he buried himself inside. “Good girl, keep opening up for me.” He praised, and you listened, forcing your walls to take every bit of his manhood until his body was flushed with yours.

“You feel so good…” You bellowed, clawing at the comforter underneath you as he began to stroke. He patterned in and out of your slick cunt, your juices flooding his pole with every impel. It felt like his dick was made perfectly for you, like you settled with the wrong man way too soon. All the time, your soulmate was less 500 miles away.

“You dripping all over my dick, baby. Who got you this wet?” The question was a rhetorical, but got dammit, the man had a right to know that he was doing his big one.

“You! Only you…” You replied breathlessly as you began to counteract his grinding with your own. Throwing your ass back at him, the sweat and other natural fluids from your bodies causing your plump cheeks to glue to him each and every time you pushed back. He grunted, encouraging you to continue fucking him back, the more comfortable you got with his size, the more you took, until you were sliding down on his entire cock, ramming into his pelvis. You were fucking him like you would never get the chance to again, because that was your reality.

The phone rings, and for a second, everything stops.

“Uh oh, is that hubby calling?” The male asked in a gruff tone as he placed his hand in the center of your back, slamming his pelvis into your plump cheeks, plummeting his manhood deeper and deeper into your guts. Before you knew it, he was handing you your phone, without even thinking you took it in your trembling hand. You had two missed FaceTime calls, and now he was calling on the regular cell. He had somehow gotten through the do not disturb function, even though he wasn’t on the approved list. “Answer it.” He demanded, bringing his hand up into the air before he smacked it down on your ass, undoubtedly leaving a palm shaped bruise.

“N-no…” You stuttered as he continued to thrust deeper into your abyss, his curved tip thrashing against your g-spot.

“I’m not gonna tell you again, beautiful. Answer it.” He directed once more, his strokes slacking up some until he completely stopped, leaving you full of his girth; your bodies pressed together.

The phone rang again, and this time you accepted the call. “Hey…babe, hey…” You slurred, trying to make it seem like you were drunk, even though the only thing intoxicating you was the man leaning over you, now pressing kisses to your shoulder as he stroked you deeply. You bit down into your lip, masking a moan as the familiar tone came through the phone. You clumsily hit the speaker phone and laid the device next to you.

“Hey, I was just checking on you. I know y’all were going out tonight. Did you have fun?” Derrick asked casually. Aaron chuckled in your ear, only loud enough for you to hear it. “Sounds like you had fun, you slurring your words.”

“Y-yes….so much fun! C-Can I call you back? The service isn’t good out here.” You powered through, despite being long dicked through your conversation with your spouse. Before he could even answer, Aaron reached over and ended the call. Kicking his foot up onto the mattress, he abandoned his steady, pointed strokes for brutal, merciless thrusts, sending shockwaves through your body. “FUCK! Right there, right there!”

“Your husband doesn’t fuck you this good does he?” He asked as he slipped in and out of your fortress with clear intentions, he wanted you to think of him even when you went back home. Even when it was your husband behind you. You shook your head no, but that just wasn’t good enough for him. He slid his hand into your fresh silk press and wrapped your tresses around his hand, yanking your hair until your back was flushed with his torso. He turned his head, planting soft kisses on your earlobe before he spoke again. “Answer me. Use your words.” Both of his hands wrapped around your body, one landing on your neck, and the other against your throbbing sensitivity.

He squeezed the column of your neck, while slapping his hand down on your clit to provoke an answer from you. “No! He could never fuck me like you…” You declared boldly. One night with this man and you had already thrown your husband’s boring bedroom skills under the bus. Your silk-lined walls spazzed, your clit pulsated with anticipation as your stomach muscles tightened. The curl of your toes told a story, the contortion of your face was the foreword. You were about to unravel, harder than ever before. He needed no introduction to your orgasm, he could feel you tightening around him. “That’s it princess, gimme what I want.” He encouraged as he sent one more swift pop to your engorged bundle of nerves, sending your body into a frenzy as you came. Frothy, ivory cum coated the latex between the two of you as a shrill cry left your lips. “Shit…shit…” you cursed as he placed another kiss to your temple.

“Keep cumming like that and I might have to keep you.” He murmured, a promise he couldn’t keep. He slid out of you, only for a moment to replace the condom. Grabbing your leg, he used it to flip you over on your back. He positioned himself between your thick thighs, pushing them up to your chest as he tapped his throbbing tip against your sensitive clit. He didn’t waste time entering you once again, pressing both of his hands on each side of your head as he leaned down on top of you. His gold cross pendant dangled right over your line of sight. The symbol was so fitting, because he was nailing you to that motherfucka.

This had to be the most dangerous position. His gaze felt like something you weren’t sure you could pull back from. Those piercing blue eyes of his—deep and endless like the ocean—held you captive, silently daring you to dive in, to let go of everything else. The sexually charged as the air between you thickened, it became harder to grasp onto reason. All you could focus on was the way his skillful phallus edges you closer and closer to glory.

“You don’t love him…who do you love?”

“I love you!” You blurted out mindlessly. You didn’t love this man, you’d just met him. But you absolutely loved the way he felt inside of you, so, same thing?

“I love you too,” He retorted, pressing his lips to yours to steal a few kisses. “Keep giving me this pussy, make me nut.” He grunted as he closed any gaps between the two of you, his sticky, sweaty frame clinging to yours. The religious symbol carved from gold swayed above your mouth as he defiled you. You impulsively grabbed the pendant with your teeth and held onto it, causing the male to growl in response. “Sexy ass…” Your action clearly arousing him, you could feel his erection twitch insiders of your fortress.

You wrapped your hands around his waist, letting them fall further down to his muscular ass, sinking your french manicure into his skin and holding him in place. “You wanna nut so, bad. let me feel you, daddy…” you purr into his ear, and lock clockwork his entire body tenses, he gives you a few more choppy strokes, a throaty snarl covering a string of obscenities as he filled the latex between the two of you, another orgasm ripping through your own body simultaneously. The two of you laid there in silence for a few moments; enjoying the feeling of your bodies sticking together. Finally, he reached between you and pulled out. Placing a soft kiss against your duo before pulling away all together.

You watched as he swaggered to the bathroom, his beautiful round butt on display. You’d just cheated on your husband, and you honestly had no regrets. He would never know, you would get back to your life in a few days and forget this ever happened. Or would you?

You heard the sound of the toilet flush before he walked back out to you, in all his glory. “You okay?” He asked, your lips curved up into a smirk. “Let me get you some water…”

As promised, he made you touch every wall in the house. From the kitchen while he was “getting water” to the living room floor, back down to the hallway, until you circled back to the shower and ended in the bedroom again.

Normally, you loved the sunrise ⸺ it was your favorite time of day. You were an early riser, always savoring the quiet peace of dawn. But today, you hated it. The soft, golden light spilling through the curtains was an unwelcome reminder that your night with Aaron had come to an end, and reality was waiting just outside that door.

Carefully, you slid out of bed, moving as quietly as possible to avoid waking him. His steady breathing filled the room, and for a moment, you paused, watching the way the morning light kissed his face. He looked so peaceful, so perfect, and it only made it harder to leave.

You tiptoed around out of the room, gathering your clothes from where they’d been discarded the night before. Piece by piece, you dressed in silence, your movements deliberate, almost hesitant, as if you were trying to hold on to the last remnants of the night.

But as you reached the front door, a tug of longing made you stop. You couldn’t leave ⸺ not yet. You needed one last look at him.

Turning back, you crept down the hall and peeked into the bedroom. Your heart stuttered when you saw him staring back at you, his dreamy eyes half-lidded as he rubbed the sleep from them. His voice, low and raspy from sleep, broke the silence. “You were just gonna leave like that?” The corners of his lips displayed a faint smile, and the vulnerability in his tone hit you harder than you expected.

“Yeah, before you make it even harder to leave,” you admitted with a matching smile, your voice barely above a whisper. You lingered at the doorframe, taking in the sight of him one last time, trying to commit it all to memory. “Goodbye, Aaron. Thank you for last night.”

The sincerity in your words hung between you, unspoken truths layered beneath them.

He propped himself up on one elbow, his eyes searching yours. “Before you leave… what’s your name?”

You hesitated, your lips parting as if to tell him, but instead, you offered a soft, enigmatic smile. “Let’s just leave it as ‘Beautiful,’” you said, the words laced with finality and a hint of playfulness.

Aaron leaned back, his smile widening as he chuckled softly, shaking his head. “Beautiful it is.”

Without another word, you turned and slipped out of the room. Outside, your best friends were waiting for you, their faces alight with curiosity and mischief. They immediately bombarded you with questions, eager for every last detail. But as you settled into the car’s backseat, you held onto the memory of last night, knowing some moments were better left unspoken, cherished in quiet secrecy.

#aaron pierre x black reader #aaron pierre x reader #aaron pierre smut #aaron pierre x black!reader #aaron pierre x black!femreader

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bueckersstuff · 5 months ago

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REMEMBER

Click here for chapter: 1, 2, 3, 4 & 5

Chapter 6: Drunk in Love

It was one of those rare nights at Ted’s, the kind of night where everything felt electric, where every win felt like it was followed by more laughter, and every drink only added to the buzz of the moment. Apparently, Ava and Paige, both captains of the victorious teams, had decided to celebrate the win together over the weekend. The girls were so excited to get drunk, but you, not so much. You were dreading seeing Paige again after reading her entire diary the past few nights. You hadn’t had enough sleep after all the things you discovered about Paige and how she sees things. You had just finished getting ready when the girls picked you up at your dorm. Hailey’s at her room, losing her mind over her paperwork. Your team arrived earlier than the others. When the clock struck midnight, athletes from both the basketball and swimming teams started showing up at the party.

You and your girls were starting to get settled when the women’s basketball team arrived. You ran your gaze through them until you spotted Paige. She’s wearing an all-black outfit—black cargo pants, a fitted black cropped shirt that shows her toned stomach, and a low-back slicked-back bun. You averted your eyes because you didn’t like that you were checking her out. Girl, move on!

The girls had decided to play beer pong—classic, fun, and with just the right amount of friendly competition. Ball versus swim team. As the games went on, you found yourself unable to focus on anything other than her. Her eyes, the way they would flicker in your direction with a mix of mischief and something deeper. It wasn’t how she used to look at you before; there was something more intense there, a pull you couldn’t ignore.

You watched as Paige took her shot, her fingers brushing lightly against the rim of the cup. A slight touch, almost imperceptible, but it made your pulse quicken. Her eyes met yours again, and for a second, the entire world around you both seemed to fade out. The tension was thick. The kind you could cut with a knife. She didn’t break eye contact, and neither did you. You were aware of the heat rising in your chest, of the way your heart skipped a beat when her gaze lingered on yours a little too long.

The next round of beer pong was more than just a game. It was a challenge. Whoever lost had to take shots—lemon shots, no less, where the lemon bite was as sharp as the alcohol itself. The stakes were high, and you found yourself trying not to think too much about how your hand brushed against Paige’s as you grabbed your drink. The briefest touch, but it felt like a spark, and you felt yourself freeze. She’s teasing me, you thought. No, wait… maybe you're the one teasing her.

The game continued, and when you lost a round, you knew what had to come next. You handed Paige the lemon, and her fingers grazed your palm as she took it. It was subtle, but enough to make your breath hitch. You watched her bite into the lemon, her lips curving slightly as the sourness hit her. You took the shot swiftly, then suck into the lemon she's biting. You swore you saw her eyes flicker to your lips, something almost reckless in her gaze. The look lingered for a beat too long before she looked away, and your heart did that strange thing it always did around her.

The night blurred as everyone kept drinking and goofing off, but you couldn’t shake the image of Paige’s gaze when she bit into that lemon. Something was building between you two, something that neither of you was willing to admit. Then, as the night dragged on, you noticed Paige becoming more carefree, more uninhibited. The alcohol had taken its toll on her, and she was laughing more loudly than usual.

Her gaze kept coming back to you. Every glance, every smile, seemed to pull you deeper into her orbit. It wasn’t just the alcohol anymore. You felt the undeniable magnetic pull between you both, a tension that had always been there but now felt like it was going to break.

You were sitting on the couch, taking a break from all the dancing, when Paige was suddenly beside you. She was leaning in, her breath warm against your neck, and you could feel the heat rising in your chest again. You remembered a certain entry in her diary. It was a small party organized at your parents' house, and you invited Paige over. You both were being silly and started drinking wine secretly. You were both drunk off of it, but clearly, Paige had it under control because she wrote an entry about it, with crossed-out words that changed your whole perspective on her.

She looked stupid laughing uncontrollably, drunk off that wine. I wanna kiss her lips so bad. Can I? I don’t know if I’m gonna get another chance again, though. But I don’t want to take advantage of her. I wanna wipe off that smirk from her lips.

"Are you okay?" Paige’s voice was soft, teasing, but the look in her eyes betrayed her words. She leaned closer, her face just inches from yours. "You looked like you remembered something."

You tried to tell yourself this was just the alcohol talking, that she didn’t really mean what she was saying, but the way she looked at you, so intensely, so raw, made it hard to breathe.

You shook your head, trying to clear the fog in your mind, but it was no use. You could feel her presence, her warmth, all around you.

"Get away from me, Paige. You’re drunk," you muttered, hoping she’d back off, but part of you didn’t want her to.

Her smirk deepened, but her voice was steady. "I’m not. This is me sober, with full-on self-control."

"Oh, really? You don’t look like you’re in control of yourself," you retorted, your own words hanging in the air as you felt the distance between you narrowing.

She raised an eyebrow, almost provocatively, and then—before you could react—she scooted closer. Now, your faces were mere inches apart, and you could feel the electric pulse of tension between you both. She reached up, slowly, her fingers brushing through your hair to push the loose strands away from your face.

"I don’t think you’ll like what I’d do if I lose control, baby," she whispered, her voice low, raspy, sending shivers through your body. Her lips were so close, you could almost taste them. "I missed you so, so much. You have no fucking idea."

Her words sent a jolt through your entire body. You knew you should push her away, remind yourself that this was just the alcohol talking, but you couldn’t. You were frozen in place, caught in her gaze, drowning in the heat between you two.

She caressed your cheek softly, her touch delicate yet intense. "Why’d you disappear from me? I almost went after you to New York… but I thought, if you wanted me there, you’d still be talking to me. And you weren’t." Her breath hitched, her eyes losing their playful edge, replacing it with something more vulnerable, more raw. "So I stayed silent and let you go. I know you don’t remember everything you’ve done to me… and maybe I should still be mad, but being this close to you and masking my feelings with anger isn’t cutting it."

She exhaled deeply, her eyes still on yours, and for a moment, you forgot to breathe. Her hand was still on your cheek, warm, soft, and comforting in the middle of everything.

"I think I’m starting to lose control now," she said with a bitter little laugh, her words trailing off.

You wanted to respond, to tell her that she was drunk, that this wasn’t the right time, but all you could manage was a soft, "Paige, you have Azzi by your side."

She smiled, but it wasn’t her usual playful smile. It was almost sad. "Oh, yeah. Azzi’s been there for me all this time. That’s why she’s my best friend. She gets me. She knows everything about me." There was a hint of something else there, something deeper, and you could feel the weight of her words.

"That’s why you don’t need me anymore. You have Azzi," you insisted, trying to convince yourself as much as her.

Paige’s eyes softened, but the sadness was still there. "Azzi is needed by her own girlfriend. And you… I thought you were mine."

Her words hung in the air between you both, the weight of them pressing down on your chest. Everything felt like it was unraveling, and you didn’t know whether to pull her closer or push her away.

Paige's words kept echoing in your mind, but the shock had turned to numbness. Did she really just say that? You kept asking yourself, but every time you tried to convince yourself it was just the alcohol talking, your mind kept racing. You were shocked—What the hell is going on between us? But you refused to acknowledge it, denying the possibility of something more. It felt too complicated, too messy. So, you bottled it all up and focused on getting through the night.

Paige was gone—drunk as hell. Her body was limp in your arms, and she kept giggling like a mess, leaning on you like she could barely stand. She’s wasted. This is just the alcohol talking, not her, you told yourself over and over.

The girls eventually found you, and their concern was obvious. "She’s trashed, dude," Nika said, eyeing Paige as she swayed in your arms. "You need to get her home." And then they went back to partying.

Shit, you thought. You had no idea where Paige's dorm is. She never told you that. After an internal conflict, your only option was to bring her back to your dorm. This is fine. She’ll crash, you'll take care of her, and that’s the end of it.

You took an Uber back to your place, with Paige hanging all over you in the backseat. This is torture, you thought, her hand draped across your chest, her body leaning into you like she couldn't get enough. You could feel her breath against your skin, and each time she shifted, the proximity was driving you crazy.

"You're so warm," she slurred, leaning even closer, pressing her face into your shoulder. "You always smell the same… like… like I remember…" Her voice trailed off, and you caught her looking up at you through half-lidded eyes. There was a mischievous smile on her lips. Why does she do this to me? you wondered, unable to stop your heart from pounding.

By the time you reached your dorm, you were barely holding it together. Paige could barely walk, and you were struggling to keep her on her feet. You knocked on the door, hoping someone would answer before you both collapsed on the floor.

Hailey opened the door and immediately raised an eyebrow when she saw the state Paige was in. "What the hell happened to her?" she asked, concern on her face.

"I don’t know," you muttered, exasperated. "She’s… just wasted. I don’t know what to do with her."

"She’s drunk as hell, obviously," Hailey said, stepping aside to let you in. "Don’t worry, I know her. I’ve seen her around before—remember those food containers we always find on our doorstep? She’s the one who brings them. I saw her one night. She told me not to say anything, and I figured you’d figure it out."

Your mind was racing as you processed this new information. Hailey just answered your speculations about Paige being the one who brought all those food containers when she mentioned something about you eating dinner the other day.

Hailey helped you get Paige to your bed and when you finally managed to lay her down, she went back to her room after you muttered your thanks. You looked at Paige and you realized you still had one problem to deal with. Paige’s clothes. You looked at her, lying there in her outfit, the alcohol-induced haze making her look vulnerable—soft, almost innocent despite the teasing smile she kept flashing. Shit, why are you even thinking like this?

"Paige, we need to get you out of your clothes," you said, trying to sound authoritative, but your voice came out more annoyed than anything. You wanted to get this over with, but her reaction made your frustration bubble up.

Paige blinked slowly, a slight giggle escaping her lips. "Mmm… you wanna help me, huh?" she purred, her fingers trailing lazily over the fabric of her shirt as if she was teasing you on purpose.

You're now sitting at the edge of your bed, "Paige, seriously. You’re too drunk to be acting like this," you muttered, fighting the urge to tell her to get off your bed, to just go to sleep.

Her hand found yours, resting lightly against your lap. "You don’t mind, do you?" she whispered, drawing small circles on your palms.

You pulled your hand back, trying to keep your composure. "Paige, stop. You’re wasted. Just let me help you get to bed, okay?" You feel your own body betraying you, responding to her proximity even when you knew you should be pushing her away.

She nodded like a baby and started sitting up. You pulled her top off her head, then you slid her shoes and pants off. Now she's only in her black sports bra, boxers, and socks. This is hell, you thought as you dragged your hand across your face.

She just smiled up at you, her fingers grazing your arm as she settled back against your pillow. "You’re so cute when you get all serious. You know that?" she whispered, her voice slurred but affectionate. "I missed this. I missed being with you… like this. Don’t leave me again, okay?"

You couldn’t respond, couldn’t even find the right words. You were overwhelmed, your heart pounding in your chest, but you forced yourself to stay indifferent, to act like none of it mattered. You pulled the blanket over her, keeping some space between the two of you.

"I’ve been dying to do this for so long," she breathed, her voice a fragile whisper, each word searing through you like fire. She propped herself up on one elbow, her lashes fluttering slowly as she leaned in, unbearably close—too close. "I’ve imagined a thousand scenarios of being this close to you since you left me," she confessed, the weight of her longing suffocating and consuming.

You froze. The words hit you harder than you expected. What the hell is happening right now? You couldn’t figure it out. It was like she was slipping between two versions of herself—drunk and teasing, and something else… something softer.

"You need to sleep it off, Paige," you muttered, trying to hide the tremor in your voice. You turned away from her, facing the wall now. But one second in, and you already felt her hot breath against your neck.

"No," she said quietly, pulling you closer, hugging you. "I want to stay like this. Just for tonight."

You felt her arms tighten around you, and for a moment, everything else seemed to fade away. She was there, pressed against you, her breath soft against your skin. The alcohol may have made her words slurred and her actions bold, but there was something else beneath it all, something real.

You closed your eyes, unable to fight the way your heart betrayed you, but you tried to keep the distance—both physical and emotional. This is just temporary, you reminded yourself. She’s drunk. Tomorrow, this will all be gone.

But as her body relaxed against yours, as her breathing deepened, you couldn’t ignore the feeling that maybe… just maybe, something else was happening between the two of you. Something neither of you could control.

Just for tonight.

Taglist: @0phantom0 @authentic-girl03 @unadulteratedcyclepaper @sjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjjj @thelightknight21 @kmoneymartini @shartnugget26

#paige bueckers #uconn #uconn huskies #uconn wbb #paige bueckers fic #paige bueckers x reader #paige x reader

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yourislandgirl · 2 months ago

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*:ꔫ:*ₓₒ LEMON DROP LIPS ˚ ༘♡ੈ✩ || 리키 x fem!reader || drabble

— KISS ME, DON’T SAY NO series

summary: enlisting the help of your boyfriend, you had a goal of completing your biology assignment well in advance, wanting to get back in your teachers good graces, and thanks to riki’s support, the task didn’t feel so impossible, a little sour for sure, but manageable

genres: fluff, romance, non-idol!riki x non-idol!reader, est. relationship

warnings: ni-ki is referred to as "riki", attempts at humour, swearing/cursing, brat boyfriend rikimura, standard high school student stress (i think i write stressed academics a bit too often . oh well)

wc: 2.8k

[archive]

“Why would you subject yourself to biology?”

You shrugged at the question.

But it was an assignment from that very class that had both you and your boyfriend at your local park hunting for flowers. The afternoon sunlight was slowly dipping lower and a gentle breeze swayed amongst the grass around your ankles. After carefully closing the lid of your lip balm and tucking it into your jacket pocket, you crouched down beside your boyfriend and took your biology question booklet out of his hands.

“Because,” you started, “I needed a science subject to close out my timetable and Miss Hwang said that bio had more visual learning and there were more hands-on experiments that we could do, so— Wait, why am I even explaining this to you? Dig!”

You nudged Riki with your shoulder, ignoring his groans as you flipped through the question booklet, making sure you’d found the right flower specimen.

Dissecting flora and delving into the horticulture topic was fascinating but equally a challenge. At the start, it included a lot of labelling and diagrams, and then it became more fun when your teacher brought in the bouquets — you and your friends got side tracked in class and started researching the language of flowers.

Riki had even started to take an interest when you talked about your lessons, sitting in the art room with him while he sketched.

Presently, as you pulled your phone out to take down a few notes, you smiled at the little doodle he did of carnation flowers that you’d placed in your phone case.

“They mean love, or something,” he’d muttered as he handed the sketch to you.

“Or something,” you’d muttered back before kissing him on the cheek.

more under cut !!

You shook your head, smiling at the memory while you closed your notes app and opened the camera instead. “Alright, here, take this.” Handing the phone to Riki, you chose to do the actual extraction yourself.

You grabbed the base of the stem and started to tug at it gently. Maybe a little too gently.

The seconds passed by and the stem moved just under a centimetre before Riki finally lost his patience and sighed a little. “Just pluck it.”

You shot him a small, harmless glare to which he replied with his tongue poking out but he remained in place ready to snap the photo.

“Riki, I need the root system as well.”

His expression soured. “I hate your teacher.”

“She hates you too. Go write a diss track about it later.”

You heard him chuckle quietly, your cheeks heating up at the sound.

It took you a few moments to brace yourself through it but eventually, you pulled out the flower, roots and all, and held in your hands as if it was a delicate angels feather. The sigh of relief that left your lips was nothing compared to the groan from Riki when he stood up after finally taking the photo.

“Ugh, my ankles are killing me.” He rolled his head back and clicked the joints in his neck and shoulders while he talked.

You felt a little bad for him but you needed the help. And in all honesty, Riki took better photos than you. The angle, the lighting, it all looked better when he was holding the camera. You used to think there was some secret to it but you quickly came to realise he just had an eye for beauty and composition that no one else had.

You loved the photo, immediately emailing it to yourself so you’d have it on your laptop. When you turned your gaze back up at Riki, he was resting his hands behind his head, eyes drooping a little.

You smirked. “Aw is Shnookums tired?” Reaching forward, your tried to poke his cheek before he gently swatted you away.

Your smile only grew at the sight of how Riki pinched the bridge of his nose, it seemed the memory of such a flattering childhood nicknames was an unwelcome one. “Stop, that was one time.” As he turned to walk further into the park, you could almost hear Riki chuckle as you hurried to catch up to him.

“I don’t know Shnookie,” your voice was torturously teasing, “The home videos your sister showed me say a different story.”

“God the next time I see her…”

Laughter blossomed out of you. Reaching for his hand, you continued to explore the local park’s flora and compare it to the required specimens needed for your biology class.

You’d carefully bagged each flower in a zip lock and handed them to Riki to slide into a folder before placing it in your backpack. Your little system of discovery, extraction, documentation and storage was going well, and you’d just about finished the list with only three remaining specimens left.

“Ok, I say we wrap it up for the day.” Riki got up from his crouched position for the seventh time in the afternoon, stretching every joint carefully, waiting for you to get up as well. Your jacket was slung over his shoulder like a towel, his own makeshift neck pillow.

“Uh…” You remained huddled on the grass, fingers flipping through the biology booklet.

“Y/N?” You looked up, seeing Riki’s expectant gaze, his hand outstretched ready to help you up. “Let’s go, I can walk you home.”

“I think I’m gonna stay a little longer. I can get my mum to pick me up, don’t worry.”

Asking Riki not to worry was like asking him to immediately start panicking, because both resulted in the same outcome. His eyebrows would furrow, his shoulder would tense up, his only goal would be to understand why and what he could do to help.

“I don’t understand,” he reached for your hand, pulling you up with ease, wanting to speak to you at eye level, or, somewhat-eye-level. “This isn’t due until after the weekend. You’ve got time to do this, you can take a break for now. Right?”

You gripped the booklet in your other hand a little tighter.

“Y/N, hey, it’s ok to take a break.”

You puffed out a breath, blowing some stray hairs off your cheeks. “I know that,” you mused. “I just need to do this now. I think… It could make Miss Hwang happy, that’s all.”

Riki’s frown turned from concern to judgement so fast, you’d miss the transition if you blinked. “Ok, what? Who gives a fuck what she thinks?”

“My parents, my report card, my scholarship applications, my—”

“I get it.”

He subtly reached for your wrist, his fingers gentle as they slide down your palm and interlocked with yours.

The silence was anticipatory. The kind where you could feel his questions churning inside by the way his thumb tapped against the back of your hand. It was the kind of silence where you felt his gaze on you a few times as if waiting for you to break the quiet and initiate some conversation.

Riki liked having answer, that much you knew. But you also knew that he’d never force them out of you.

Maybe that’s why it was easier to talk to him more than anyone else.

“Miss Hwang held me and a few others back in class last week.”

Riki slowed down his pace a little, frowning as he recollected the past week. “Hang on, you said you had extra bio work to do.”

“I did,” you shrugged. “I was doing it while she held me back. I, um…”

The hesitation on your face made Riki frown a little deeper, his lips pouting just enough to alleviate your mood that littlest bit. He really did not like that woman, and for what it was worth, that amused you deeply.

Enough to admit the reason with a shy smirk, “She may have seen me texting you while my friends and I did buzzfeed quizzes.”

He scoffed, his head tipping back with a sigh, the mental image of you, his high achieving girlfriend, wasting class time? “Buzzfeed? Really?”

Your eyes lit up with a simmering annoyance that you’d been harbouring for days. “We finished the class work! She was being so petty!”

“She is petty.”

You sighed, “She’s not horrible. Just, I don’t know, strict?”

Shrugging, Riki led you to a park bench to take a seat. “Lovingly, don’t care. Not a fan.”

“Doesn’t matter,” you leaned back onto the cool wood of the park bench, “I need to make her a fan of me again. I really don’t want to lose the favour of a teacher like her ya know?”

Riki merely gave you a blank expression before conceding, “Yeah, ‘kay.”

Wordlessly, he pulled your jacket off his shoulders and dropped it on your lap before taking the biology booklet out of your hands. He started flipping through.

You raised an eyebrow at his actions but quickly became distracted by the sheer concentration on his face.

It was the same face he wore when making sure he had every material needed before painting. Or when he was making sure he’d followed the rule of thirds during a preliminary canvas sketch. He had a precision to his perspective that you could not find in another person.

He only further proved your point by putting an arm over your shoulder and bringing you closer so that you could read along with him. He muttered under his breath about how many samples you’d collected, how many double ups you’d found, the general locations and other areas you could try in the park before it got too dark.

“You want to finish this by the end of the week right? Submit it early?” He didn’t wait for an answer before getting off the bench, taking you with him, his hand holding yours once again. “I’d say we’ve got fifteen more minutes before the street lights turn on.”

He turned to face you again. “We might have to come back tomorrow, babe. I’m sorry.” Pressing a soft kiss on your temple, Riki pulled his phone out to text his sister, asking her to come pick you both up. When he looked back up, Riki halted at the sight of your smile.

“You’re not upset?”

“What?” You hadn’t realised you’d been smiling. Shaking your head to compose yourself, you breathed out a nervous laugh, “Right. No, I’m not. I just… Thank you.”

You smiled wider at his confusion, spurring him to smile back, no less confused than before. At that moment the weight of Miss Hwang’s expectations didn’t matter. Your drive to please her regulated into a drive to please yourself.

As you slowly pulled Riki back to the park bench to sit next you, the simmering urge to submit early started to dissipate. Of course you knew it would come back again tomorrow morning, and you were prepared for that. But maybe Riki had a point, you could afford to take a break.

You’d made excellent progress, and with his help tomorrow, you’d have this assignment completed well before the due date, exactly as planned.

The street lights started to flicker to life, burning their midnight oil, unlike you, who’d chosen to preserve yours.

“You okay?” Riki’s voice was low, lower than a whisper. He still wore an expression of confusion but it had morphed into intrigue, enchantment — he didn’t need to know why you thanked him, he just needed to make sure whatever he did, he’d keep doing it.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” you whispered back. “I guess sometimes it hits different, knowing that I’ve got people in my corner, rooting for me and doing whatever they can to help me succeed. Even if the prize isn’t anything special.”

Riki smirked, “In your own words, an A+ is better than a winning lottery ticket.” He pulled you closer once again, the feeling of his arm draped over your shoulder was a welcomed comfort, a familiar warmth.

Even his teasing was welcomed; “That is a foul sentiment, by the way. Who taught you something so illogical? Let me at ‘em.”

You giggled at his dramatics. “I was being sarcastic.”

“I should hope so.”

Riki’s thumb drew small circles into your shoulder, his head dropping down to rest on top of yours. “Seriously, though. You don’t need to thank me for this. Of course I’d help you.”

Your cheeks felt like they were in bloom, lip quirking up as you spoke. “Even though you hate Miss Hwang?”

“Especially because I hate Miss Hwang,” he scoffed, sitting up a little to face you, the glint in his eyes like a fire cracker just looking for trouble.

“Think about it,” he started, “What better way is there to get back at that witch?” He pulled your biology booklet out once more, flipping through the pages speedily, as if to show just how much you’d completed in one afternoon.

“She’s gonna have to give you the top mark, and her knowing that you’re my girl just makes it better.”

You gasped, mockingly. “You petty little—”

“Listen sweets, if there’s anyone that I want succeeding, it’s you.” His arm found its place over your shoulder once more, this time pulling you into the warmth between his collar and neck.

“My support shouldn’t be a shock, it’s a given,” he said, softly.

You breathed in his scent, a little musky coupled with the slight smell of acrylic paint. Pursing your lips, biting back another smile, you turned to gaze up at him.

He glanced down. “What?”

You hummed a noncommittal tone, “You just look very kissable right now.”

It was amusing to witness, the way Riki’s gentle expression morphed into a boyish grin. “Well not to brag but, I fear I just wake up looking kissable.”

“Mhm.”

He nodded, “Honestly, go ahead, feel how kissable my lips are.” Just to prove his point, he puckered them up for you dramatically.

Nudging him in the ribs lightly, you leaned away in faux disgust. “Shut up.”

“Oh come on,” he grabbed your wrist, “I even used your lip balm.”

Your smile dropped, brows furrowing instantly.

Riki halted, verbally backpedaling “Wait, I mean—”

“You used my limited edition lemon drop lip balm?!”

“…No?”

You hands patted frantically against your jacket that was rested on your lap, feeling each of the pockets and finding no small plastic tube of citrusy softness.

Your gaze locked with your boyfriend’s, who’d already gotten off the bench and started walking away hastily.

“Riki!” You followed after him, both of you speeding into a jog, then a run, then a sprint.

Riki’s deep laughter resounded the local park, every other passerby with a dog or on a walk had turned to look at the scene that bolted past them.

You groaned, feeling yourself slowing down. “Stop running!”

“Stop chasing!” He yelled over his shoulder, turning slightly to see your speed reduce, causing him to do the same.

He kept a decent distance from you, hands up in surrender. Well, one hand open. The other was in a fist, his large palm could have been hiding anything but you had an inkling to what was inside.

“Got it right here,” he declared, smugly. Your beloved lip balm.

You stalked closer, before lunging forward to reach his hand. A failed attempt, of course. as he simply lifted it higher. “When did you even take it? Give it back!”

Your hands went to his ribs, aiming to tickle him into submission but he quickly dodged you, circling around, his free hand on your shoulder to hold you at arms length.

“Give me a kiss first!” His eyes were alight, sparked with love, cloaked with mischief.

You shook your head, your own grin was involuntary at that point. “Riki, I swear—”

“Nope.” He leaned forward, his empty hand snaking around your waist and pulling you closer. “My name’s not Riki, it’s Shnookums. Now hold still and you’ll get your lip balm.”

You fidgeted out of his grip, determined to hold off on kissing him until you got your limited edition. “Fine.” Your hand was held out, palm open for the trade.

Riki unfurled his fist, an empty hand grasped yours and pulled you into him, his own lips locking onto yours.

Any semblance of stubborn determination was immediately dissolved against the taste of lemon meringue and citrusy zest that met your tongue.

The flavour faltered your thoughts, leaving you a blinking, blushing mess as Riki pulled away.

“Is that enough lip balm for you?” He shoved his hands in his pockets, taking a couple steps back.

You jutted your lip out, deep in pretend-thought. “I might need more, funnily enough.”

You giggled at his expression. “Hilarious.”

a.n: FINAL INSTALMENT OF THE KISS ME, DON'T SAY NO SERIES IS HERE AHHHHH — i hope you all enjoyed the ride and i've got so many more drafts just itching to be posted but anyway, thank yoouuuu xx <3

taglist: @oceanstide — @sheepsgf — @itsrinsdrs — @enjakey — @rynnest

2025 © yourislandgirl

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russo-woso · 1 year ago

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Hot shots | Mary Earps x Russo!reader

Warning vomiting, think that’s it

Summary You and Mary try a challenge with your sister and Maya, but it doesn’t go the way you’d planned it

“Mary, you’re not actually gonna make us do it are you?” You asked your fiancé, Mary, as you sat down on her bed with your sister and Maya.

“Of course I am, babe. It’s good for us.” Mary explained and you shook your head at her.

“I can’t believe this. I hate you. I really do.” You said, lying through your teeth.

How could you ever hate Mary? How could anyone hate Mary?

“That’s a lie!” Mary exclaimed, as she set up her phone.

“I know. I could never hate you.” You told her, resting a hand on her back once she’d sat down next to you.

She threw her arm over your shoulder and pressed a kiss to your lips.

“Stop it.” Alessia complained, pushing you off Mary. “You two can’t go one minute without your lips touching! It’s disgusting.”

“Less, let me kiss my girl.” Mary told her, reconnecting her lips with yours.

“Your girl is also my sister and I don’t like it when you eat her face off. As much as I hate her sometimes, I would still quite like it if she had a face.”

Instead of obeying to Alessia, you and Mary looked at her before reconnecting your lips.

“My god, you two are like teenagers! You can’t go a minutes without your lips on each others.” Alessia exclaimed, diving in the middle of you both to disconnect your lips.

“Fine, fine, let’s just start the video.” You said, much to Mary’s dismay, who wanted another kiss. “You’ve got all night to kiss me.” You whispered in her ear and a smile appeared on her face.

Mary leaned forward to start the video and you nearly fell off the bed, sending Maya into a fit of laughter.

As Mary sat back on the bed, Maya still laughing, she wrapped her arms around all three of you and began talking to her phone.

“Right. Hello, everyone. We’ve got a challenge for me, Maya, Alessia, and my gorgeous fiance, Y/N, today.” Mary began, introducing you all.

“You just had to get that in, didn’t you?” You asked her, rolling your eyes.

“Of course I did, everyone needs to know that you’re mine. Anyway, It’s a weird one today. Hot shots, like the hot shots we are.” Mary continued, and started to open the packaging, handing you each one bottle.

“What’s in them?” Alessia questioned, curiously looking at the bottle.

“Why don’t you do a presentation?” Mary suggested.

“Have you kept them in the fridge?” Alessia asked, laughing as she shook her bottle.

“She has. They’ve been taking up our whole mini fridge.” You said, shaking your head at Mary.

“Orange, lemon, ginger, turmeric, and cayenne.” Alessia called out, naming the ingredients in it.

After a conversation about how to say turmeric, it was time to try them.

“Right, rumour on the street has it, it’s got to be down in one.” Mary told us

“Mary, that’s too big to do it in one. Look, it’s 100mls.” You pointed out the obvious, turning your bottle to show her.

“I can smell that from here.” Maya said, smelling the strong scent from Mary’s bottle.

“You can’t say that because Alessia eats with her nose cause she’s a weirdo. She’s done it since she was little. I mean, who eats with their nose?” You said, purposefully trying to wind your sister up.

“Shut up, Y/N, it’s not my fault.” Alessia whined, nudging her shoulder, roughly, with hers.

“Right girls, to good health. Down the hatch.”

You all clinked bottles with one another before preparing to drink it.

“I’m not doing it all in one.” Alessia stated, you nodding in agreement.

“No, we’ve got to go for it. You both got to do at least half.” Mary compromised and you and Alessia nodded, agreeing to do at least half.

“You just need to keep swallowing.” Maya suggested and you took a deep breath, preparing for the vile taste to take over your mouth.

“3, 2, 1, go.” Mary counted down and one she finished, you all started drinking it.

You took one sip, before sprinting off to the bathroom, spitting it out.

You heard Maya and Alessia laughing as you rinsed your mouth out with water.

Mary quickly followed you, making sure you were okay.

Once you’d washed your mouth, you made your way back out and into the room.

“That was fucking vile.” You exclaimed and sat on the bed. “How did you finish yours? I’d be sick if I had anymore.” You asked Maya and your fiance as you noticed their empty bottles.

Alessia on the other hand, had a half full bottle in her hand, clearly only having a sip or two missing from it.

“Do you want the rest of mine?” Alessia offered Mary and Maya, pulling a face in disgust.

“Come on, baby, can you not just have another sip?” Mary asked you, and you shook your head straight away.

“I’m gonna be sick if I have anymore. That was the worst thing I’ve ever drank.” You stated and Mary laughed before resting a hand on your lower back, rubbing it in circles.

“Come on, Less, you’ve got to finish it.” Mary encouraged Alessia, whose jaw had fallen to the floor.

“So I have to finish mine, but as soon as Y/N says she can’t finish hers it’s okay?” Alessia asked, and Mary nodded.

“Of course, I’m not having a sick girlfriend.” Mary said and you nuzzled your head on her shoulder, smirking cheekily at Alessia.

“This is so unfair.”

“You alright there, Maya?” You asked the young girl who was searching frantically for a drink.

“Maya, tell the camera what you think.” Mary suggested and Maya sat down on the bed.

“It went up my nose when I started laughing. Because your…” Maya made a gulping sound which made you giggle. “…was really loud.”

“My gulp?” Mary fell back in laughter, pulling you down with her. “I quite liked it. I didn’t find it spicy.”

“I can feel it in my throat.” You told them and Alessia hummed in agreement.

“I can too. Like just there.” Alessia agreed, pointing to her throat.

“That wasn’t bad.” Maya stated as you clapped your hands in front of Alessia’s face, startling her because she was completely zoned out.

Alessia punched your arm, and you whimpered in pain, gathering Mary’s attention.

“Alessia, don’t punch her.” Mary lectured less as you run your arm in pain.

“She started it.” Alessia fired back, sending you glares. If looks could kill, you’d be on the floor dead.

“I thought that was quite easy. Challenge complete, no? I think you two failed because you haven’t finished yours. Clearly russos aren’t good with hot shots. It’s a good thing you’ll be an Earps soon.” Mary changed the subject otherwise you and Alessia would have kept arguing.

“I can’t wait to be an Earps.” You whispered, mainly to Mary as she looked down at you smiling before pressing your lips on hers.

As much as you loved kissing Mary, it being one of your favourite things to do, this time was different.

All you could taste was the drink on Mary’s lips and tongue.

“I’m gonna throw up.” You managed to get out as you ran to the bathroom once more, throwing your head in the toilet.

Mary came and rubbed your back, comforting you.

“Fuck. I’m never having one of them again.” You told Mary as you leant your back against the wall.

“You alright, sis?” Alessia asked, genuinely concerned, a whole juxtaposition to how she normally is.

“Yeah, I’m alright. I’m traumatised of kissing Mary again now.” You said, lying a bit just to see Mary’s reaction.

“What? You don’t want to kiss me again? Nope. I’m not having that.” Mary panicked, immediately grabbing her toothbrush and toothpaste to wash her mouth.

“Baby, I’m joking. Calm down.” You rested a hand on Mary’s cheek, rubbing it.

“I really want to kiss you.” Mary announced and you sent her a sympathetic smile.

“Brush your teeth and then you can.”

“Oh my god. You’ve just kissed her and now you want to kiss her again. I swear to god, you’re gonna have no face by the time you get married. Do you know what? I’m gonna go call Luca. At least he’ll talk to me without someone kissing him, unlike you. I’m his favourite sister as well so I know he’ll pick up.” Alessia said, grabbing her phone and began to walk out.

“Less?” You called out and she turned to face you. “Sorry to tell you but Luca’s told me I’m his favourite.”

“Go away, Y/N.” Alessia snapped, slamming the door behind her.

Mary had erratically brushed her teeth, immediately bringing you in for a passionate kiss as soon as she had finished.

Her hands roamed your body and landed on the hem of your shirt playing with it before sliding up and over your head, your lips parting for a second before connecting again.

Mary picked you up, your legs wrapping round her hips as she attacked your neck, light moans leaving your lips.

She began walking into the bedroom but your body tensed as you looked at it.

Mary felt your body tense up and stopped kissing your neck to look up at you.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” Mary asked, her eyes following your gaze as hers widened.

Maya was laid on the bed, watching tv with a smile on her face, knowing exactly what she was doing.

“Maya, you fucking cockblock!”

#woso community #woso x reader #woso #woso imagine #womens football #woso fanfics #mary earps #mary earps x reader

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ytmarketing001 · 5 months ago

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youtube

Welcome back to KashCodeTV. Today, we're diving into the Extreme Try Not to Laugh Challenge, but with a sour twist—every time I laugh, chuckle, or even show teeth, I have to take a shot of pure lemon juice. 👉Subscribe to my channel to stay tuned: / @thekashcode

This is my first try-not-to-laugh challenge on the channel, and I went all-in with some of the funniest, wildest, and most unexpected clips from around the internet. From crazy pranks and hilarious fails to animal antics and meme-worthy moments, this challenge tested my ability to keep a straight face. Spoiler alert… it wasn’t easy! 😂

Let me know if you want to see more Try Not to Laugh challenges or if I should switch up the punishment next time—maybe spicy food or ice baths? 🥵❄️ Let’s get creative with it!

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reallytoosublime · 5 months ago

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youtube

Let me know if you want to see more Try Not to Laugh challenges or if I should switch up the punishment next time—maybe spicy food or ice baths? 🥵❄️ Let’s get creative with it!

🔥 If you love a good laugh, you're in the right place. Join me for the "Try Not to Laugh Challenge", where laughter comes with a zesty consequence - a shot of sharp lemon juice! 🎯

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leclsrc · 2 years ago

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decent incentives ✴︎ cl16, mv1

genre: this is. Smut, porn W plot, threesome, driver reader

word count: 6.9k

Max can’t even feel his feet on the hardwood floors because you’re on your bed, spread out, wearing one of Charles’ sweaters, two fingers at the apex of your thighs. Or: You’ve been a brat, and only two people know how to mellow you out. title from this

auds here… hi hi hi! scanned my reqs last week, found a max/charles threesome one, and wrote this out in half a day after a friend showed me the challengers trailer (i love tennis and it drove me to write abt a sport that was not, in fact, tennis) also i truly cannot explain the phenomenon behind me finding smut/these kinds of works easier to suss out these days (long form fic i talked abt in the last drabble is not this one fyi) but it’s just ???? like i don’t… i’ve no clue. i hope u enjoy this anyway!!!! love auds :)

nsfw warnings under the cut!

18+ because... penetrative sex, double penetration, sexual tension, masturbation (f), teasing, praise central, reader is a MASSIVE brat, size kink, dirty talk, i don’t want to say brat taming but kinda kinda

Your first time in Max Verstappen’s hotel room happened after a tiring night of media and press, where you spent hours together smoking to calm yourselves down. You’d almost been caught by a manager, stepping on your sticks as soon as the back door swung open and your names were called out to do another interview. This was with ESPN, if you remember right. There’d been a muddled chaos of journalism in the venue, all the jumbled mess of the same questions. As young as you both are, do you feel intimidated by success?

It didn’t—and still doesn’t—help, you suppose, that both you and Max had stared, tight-lipped and deflated brows, and stated, with finality: no.

The afternoon stretched into an entire night, and by the time the clock ticked nine and everything had formally wrapped up, Max mustered up the courage and a half it took to invite you to his hotel room for a cig and half a Cuervo divided into three shots each. The conversation had progressed as he drove, the continuation of an otherwise unorthodox friendship between a Red Bull and Mercedes driver—a fact you’d both acknowledged but opted to ignore.

Drivers are friends all the time, you figure—you’re close with few drivers—but none of them are Max. You had made the lousy small talk, commented on how different the pre- and post-race processes have become since your entrance in 2018, which, back then, had seemed like forever ago. “It would seem like forever to a world champion,” he’d said, and his voice is all teasing and raspy and scruffed up. You had laughed, a scoffy little noise, and told him to shut up.

He obeyed, for two seconds, then added, “Do you mind if we meet someone there?”

The hotel room was what you might expect a high-level athlete to be bestowed with, wide and huge but not as wide and not as huge as yours a few streets over. There’d been a thing of cologne left uncapped on the table by the door, Adidas shoes on the floor next to Nikes, and then a low table housing a still smoking joint that left the entire living room smelling like grass.

Somehow, Max had managed to turn a neutral, sterile hotel room into a boy’s room. The scent of weed mixed with Tom Ford cologne. The rap music blending into the open balcony’s traffic noise. The socks on the floor, two pairs, both white. It’s a strenuous effort, you’d thought—and you were beginning to think this wasn’t the work of Max alone. “We have a guest,” he’d hollered when he managed to fiddle with the key card properly enough to leave the door alone.

No one had answered, or surfaced from the hallway leading to the bedroom and bathroom, so you followed Max into the bar area. Bottles of booze in varying states of empty, lemon slices and salt now cold—“Do you not call housekeeping?” You’d asked, amusement concealing curiosity as you accepted a poured-out shot. He said they do—they—and sometimes hotel staff are just a bunch of pricks. He asked more questions. How it felt to win at twenty-one, how it felt to be driving, to be the youngest winner, the first female driver.

Ask me something I don’t hear fucking journalists say all the time, you’d replied back, half-jokingly. The August air nipped at your cheeks, chilling your warm face. He’d laughed, and explained that he re-asked the questions in case you have a more honest answer to give him. The most honesty you could offer is that you’d grown to hate your reputation because it precedes your skill. It’d been silent for a bit then, just the scent of the unclaimed weed. Then Max went, We have a new friend.

You turned to see who he was talking to. Charles was at the doorway, eyes on you already, raising a hand to say a silent hello. “H…” He trailed off. “Hey.”

He was shirtless, Calvins tight on his legs, his free hand scratching absently at his abs. Behind you, you had faintly picked up on Max introducing you and Charles rolled his eyes before replying, clipped, I know who she is, wiseass. He’d taken the weed and almost left, but you spoke next.

“Want to come sit?”

He paused, turned, and blinked. “I’m alright,” he rejected. “We have a meeting tomorrow, don’t forget.”

Then he was back in the bedroom area, leaving behind him a trail of grassy smoke. He was clearly rugged and fresh from sleep, the delicious sleep athletes have all grown familiar with: post-race, overcome with a terrible exhaustion. You’d only ever exchanged a few words with either of these two, and the fact that you were alone with them sent a warm, drawling thrill up your spine.

You were two and a half shots in when Charles reappeared, sans weed. “Any left for me?”

—

If you grouped the grid into years, you would be with Max and Charles—on the younger end, still at the ripe years of your careers. You entered first, though, then Max, thenCharles, which meant you were connected to, and friends with, relatively different people on the paddock. But the 2020 season and your many close calls with Max began the media and manager tirade of constantly lumping you and Max into the same interviews, press conferences, and media days, to maybe somehow elicit a bit of drama out (a tireless and unrelenting effort).

That’s how the rumors started. The rumor that permeates you most is one that asks about you, Max, and Charles. Some say you dated one then the other (a homie hopper, they’d branded you in 2021), others say they dated each other and you butted in. All of them were woefully untrue, in the same way all had some ring of truth to them.

And you suppose that’s what hotwired the beginning of your nights spent at Max’s hotel room, where Charles would nearly always be camped out, then eventually vice versa (Charles’ room, Max camping out; your room, solo, housing them for one night), drinking and/or smoking and/or playing some form of cards. And you suppose again that it was all this that radiated into everything else, all your wins and successes and bad days and near crashes, that just caused the entire universe to topple over, into itself, and creep up onto the three of you in Bahrain that year.

But that year is three years ago, and if you try to detail every last divot of it, you’re going to wind up rubbing a migraine out of your head. And you’re not interested in developing a headache—not when you’re celebrating the fifth race of the 2023 season.

It’s your fourth win this season. It’s all anybody ever talks about, how you had gone and secured a third championship for yourself last year, and how you’re gunning for four, the greatest the sport has seen in years. It’s all anyone can repeat and echo—you’re a fucking legend!—and you know from experience that praise does more than the most dangerous cocktail of drugs to get you high.

The afterparty is full and obnoxiously loud, dark and smoky and low-visibility. You’re wearing a flimsy dress and running a hand through your hair while you nurse a drink, feeling drunk on compliments and confused with certain absences. You can feel the bass through the tiled floor, heels clicking on it as you search, search, and come up short. Neither Max nor Charles have sent you a text, a play they always perform to break a routine you’ve become familiar with. You frown. Hey, somebody says next to you, you’re better than anyone else on the grid right now! You thank them, thinking to yourself—where the fuck is anyone else on the grid anyway? The relevant people, at least?

Half an hour later, you’ve ditched the party and are pounding with your fists at Max’s hotel room door in an effort to get them to open it quicker, after your knuckles didn’t seem to do the work well enough. You half—no, mostly—expect Charles to be the one who pulls it open. He’s more prudent. He gives in easier. He’s nicer and he can spare a thought for the other people on this floor (but the price of this room means there barely are).

“What.” His voice is gritty.

“You told me you would come tonight.” Your voice is steady—you’d chosen not to drink much, and what little you consumed wore off on the ride here. Even with your heels on and even in sleepiness, you notice his presence towers over yours. “You both said.”

“We were tired.”

You scoff and gently push past him into the room, where evidence of their existence rags the furniture. “Every hotel room you ever stay in is turned into a fucking frat house.” Beer bottles, cigs, gifts from fans stored with precarious care but peeking out from suitcases.

“We were sleeping. I am sleepy,” he says behind you, unamused by your sudden appearance. He shuts the door and stands still, looking as disappointed as he can. It’s unlike him. You’re buying time to find out what the problem is.

“Okay, I’ll go,” you say, relenting, running a few fingers over the mess of clothes strewn atop the armrest of the couch. “My driver’s downstairs, anyway. I wanted you there tonight, though.” You look up, meet his eyes. Tired and green and fed up. “Both of you. We could’ve celebrated.”

He pulls his lips tight and stands straighter. “I know, I know.” He softens a little. “I’m sorry, okay? Desolé. Just… tired.” You know he’s tired because his team is shit, and you know it has nothing to do with you, but you’re so wrapped up with everything that your irritance fails to quell.

“Where’s Max?” You ask roughly instead, thumbing at the strap of your minidress. He gestures to the bedroom. You’re quiet but stormy when you walk in, finding him, messy hair and tired eyes notwithstanding, fully awake, unlike what his roomie has been telling you since you arrived; you scoff out loud again. Des-fucking-picable. You sit yourself on the couch, crossing your legs petulantly.

They both stare. They’re mad, it occurs to you, which is weird because they had you in between them on that same bed less than forty-eight hours ago. You’d come thrice and begged for more, but they laughed and said you all needed sleep to get up for race prep. Race prep. Race prep.

“Okay, then.” You throw two hands up in a semi-shrug. “Let’s have it. What’s the matter? No use lying.”

They both look irritated. “Nothing,” Max says.

“Fuck nothing.” You trail a hand over the hem of your dress. “You’re pissed with me, but I didn’t do shit.” You try to rerack the race, but you hadn’t so much as collided with them in the slightest, apart from overtaking them a few times, but they weren’t man children to whine over that. You’d shared the podium with Charles, for Chrissake.

“You’re right. You just went and…” Charles blows a raspberry and makes an explosion gesture, opening his clenched fist. “Shat on us in your post-race interview.”

And there it is.

You huff out a laugh, momentarily losing control over speech, and it’s caught in between itself and a sigh, a breathy noise that makes waves in the quiet room. Okay, you think. I get it. Your eyes flit in-between the two men across you, your shoulders straight and eyebrows raised, posing a challenge. “What, are you jealous?”

They’re silent. And you know silence always means—

Your eyes relax, smug and a little teasing as you elaborate. “Because you know I’m better than both of you?”

—Yes.

Their silence is redeeming and rewarding and permissive and it speaks volumes louder than if they’d actually admitted to it. You stare back at them, eyes narrowed, amused, coy. You’d been joking around in your Sky Sports interview. Sure, you’re a bit of a tease, especially on the high of a win. But they should know that by now.

You know it annoys them more to leave the door wide open as you leave, than to slam it closed.

—

“Will you draw me a tattoo?!”

“I’d love to, but you are going to regret it,” Charles laughs, signing his name off with a heart on the frenzied fan’s outstretched cap. The busy, busy practice day had now worn into night, though nothing seems to be taking his mind off the fact that you’ve been giving him and Max the cold shoulder since last week. And he knows it’s stupid, he knows he and Max were being irrational and pissy—him especially—but now he just finds himself needing to apologize before anything becomes worse.

But his priority is getting to your hotel, which now seems like the journey of his lifetime. His bodyguard is a bulldozer and grips his elbow to traverse them through the sea of people who cheer him on, go Charles have faith in Ferrari and yeah, that’s been getting more and more difficult as the races pass without much good progress. There are flashes all around, noise and laughing and whoops and gifts he tries to receive, but he just—he needs to get to your hotel. Preoccupied, he remembers where he’d seen Max last, just seconds before leaving the paddock for the evening.

You spend a lot of time with a certain pair Ferrari and Mercedes drivers, says the interviewer in Dutch. Charles squints at the subtitles and waits for Max’s reaction.

He’s in the passenger seat, being driven around for a change, and maybe he’s a pessimist and he misses you and Max, or maybe the city he’s in is just. Dreary, so he opts to stare at his phone like every other person. The clip’s been posted by a fan on Twitter, and the caption is something jokey—something about a dream threesome. He can’t help but laugh as he watches. We are close, us three, Max says, nodding. In fact I will be meeting them later.

The media’s always speculated, rumors born out of a few close calls outside clubs where you’re tipsy and giggly and getting into one car. The fans, funny as ever, also make some fun of it—posting pictures of you three captioned with something like polyamory is real or her and the guys she told you not to worry about, but God if any of them knew the real picture, the whole three years of it, all the sex and hickeys and rumors.

He scrolls a bit more. There are a few photos of you leaving the paddock, hand poised atop your face to shield it from the paps. You get loads more of them wherever you are, loads morecompared to anybody else on the grid. You always attract the media, the press. He finds a picture with your face in it, smiling at your result during FP2. Fuck. You’re pretty, hair damp with sweat, lips stretched into a proud grin, suited hand raising a thumbs up.

“Where to?” The driver beside him asks suddenly.

—

“Fairmont,” Max says to his assistant as he pulls out of parking. “I’m hanging up, doei.” He presses the red button and sighs, shutting his eyes and driving the steady, increasingly familiar routes of the city. He’d called you this morning but you didn’t pick up. Last night he’d slept restlessly, which was no different from the nights before, anyway.

He gets to the valet parking of your hotel when purple is just settling into blackness in the sky, the beginnings of a civil discussion at the tip of his tongue as he exits the elevator and finds your room, opening it and finding it unlocked already. Charles must have done the brunt of it, or maybe you’d gotten an assistant of an assistant to pass an extra keycard to him. You always plan around them, thinking ahead. Both on and off track.

Like the hotel rooms he and Charles share or camp out at, your existence is terribly visible. Unlike them, though, it manifests differently.

It smells like your perfume, the pink bottle he’d found you spritzing on once, and everything is neat and tidy and gorgeous. A vase of white peonies on the low table, lipstick on the table by the mirror, even the pack of cigarettes you barely smoke is pretty and unassuming on the sofa. The only thing amiss—a pair of men’s shoes, those ones with stars on them that you bought Charles on a spur-of-the-moment shopping trip. He toes off his own beside them, eyes the alignment, and fixes it lest you scold them for it later.

Anyway. It smells like you. That’s the only thing he cares about right now. It hits him like a tidal wave, after being ignored the whole week and then some. Your perfume, your favorite linen spray—that black and white glass bottle you carry around like a rosary—your favorite lip balm, even. He swears he smells the vanilla, can recall the taste of it from kissing you ditzy.

It’s beginning to rain—it had been drizzling already, en route here—and the noise pelts the windows, an accompaniment to his footsteps down the hall. He’s familiar with the layout of a penthouse suite, but still he tries out the WC door, and then the closet with the ironing board, before finally he figures the bedroom should be at the end of the hall.

He’s reciting it. I’m sorry. Would you stop being a brat? No. No, just say you’re sorry and then he’s standing at the ajar door of your bedroom, pushing it open, and he can’t feel anything. The words have evaporated. So have his warm little sentimental feelings, and so the annoyance he’d come busting in with.

Max can’t even feel his feet on the hardwood floors because you’re on your bed, spread out, wearing one of Charles’ sweaters, two fingers at the apex of your thighs.

He opens his mouth but nothing leaves. His eyes find Charles, standing by the door, propped against the desk, arms crossed and fingers digging into his biceps. Max looks at you again. You have a pretty flush high on your cheeks, a slight sheen of sweat on your exposed collar. He blinks and realizes you’ve been talking.

“I said, you can sit the fuck down.” There’s a couch to his left.

He pulls himself together and stays beside Charles. “I’m good here, thanks.”

You eye the two of them. They look like stupid twins in the same way they look like Republican husbands. You roll your eyes and allow it; anyway, you’re not in the mood to order either of them around too much.

Charles has been watching you for a while now, watched you fake moans and exaggerate whines, feigning pleasure over two of your fingers. It’s almost laughable—he’d allowed a smile, in fact, because he knows better. Once, he’d pulled your hair so hard you teared up, nodding, hand at his wrist, whimpering more, harder, do it. Another time, he and Max had gotten you all riled up and edged for half an hour, so riled that all you could mutter out were please and their names when they finally stuffed you full. You’re evidently playing your games again. You love to play around with them. It’s almost—you could almost call it a hobby.

“I’m not going to stop just ‘cause you’re both here.” Your hand moves, two fingers fucking into yourself, pink lace pushed aside. Your cunt is so pretty, they’re both thinking. “Did you think I would?” When silence greets you, you decide to address them directly. “Max. Did you?”

His voice is thin and tight when he responds, “Yeah, actually—so we could suss this out, at least.”

Your laugh is patronizing. “I prefer it this way. And you know what?”

Max stares. Charles has already been told this, several minutes ago when he found you in the exact same position. It’s not any easier for him to hear it again, chaste and sweet out of your lips. You can’t touch me.

See, they would’ve been content without touching you, if they sit and think about it. Max didn’t walk in here thinking he’d even be kissing you, and he knows Charles thinks the same thing. Maybe touch you—innocently, that kind of way. Sure, they’d been pent up, heady with arousal, but that came second to talking things out. But now you’ve told them they can’t touch, and that’s worsened them to their limit. Charles imagines touching you, the same touch he gives when it’s post-race and he gets you alone, to himself, nobody else’s, quick fucks in a dim closet, whispering some dirty shit in your ear and getting you like putty in his hands.

Max thinks of nearly the same thing. Imagines running his hand over your hair, gentle but firm, the same way he does when he knocks at your hotel room after hours and gets you from high-strung and bratty to begging for more. You notice their eyes, darkened; you realize their minds have wandered. So, they watch hopelessly as the smirk spreads prettily across your flushed face, and they remember the events of a week prior, when childishly, they’d acted out, and think, for a second, that maybe they deserve this.

You all know what it’s like to keep them from touching you.

It was both easier and worse then, in 2020 when everything started—when everything was brand new and thrilling and exciting. Easier, because they were satisfied as soon as they got you to come, maybe kiss them both, and they were content with slow exploration. Worse, because you were all insatiable. It felt like none of you could go minutes without some form of touch, during, in-between, after practice, quali, fuck—it was worse, much worse.

As you all grew older and got accustomed to the drivel of racing, you all got better. It didn’t get much easier.

Charles recalls how insatiable he was—and thinks, with amusement almost, that if he was insatiable then, he’s worse now. Now he knows where, how, for how long to touch you to get you wide-eyed and warm in the face even in the most serious of moments. Max, too. He knows how you taste, bend, tease. They love touching you. Just skin to skin. And you’ve gone and put a great big X mark over that.

“So,” Max says, voice flat, the way it is when he’s unamused with a reporter, “we’re in a time out.”

“You can call it that,” you giggle, and it segues into a huffy whimper when you angle your hand just right. “You were acting childish, anyway.”

Charles sighs, long and deep. “We—fuck.” His eyes can’t unglue themselves from your fingers. He knows he could make you feel so much better, fuck real moans out of you until you’re crying. “We were being childish, oui, and it was—we were just tense. I was unhappy with strategy. I could’ve been P2 but they pitted me at the worst time, putain. I took it out on you, and I’m… I was… I was worn out, and you called us childish in your interview.”

Ever the minx, you only smile. You’d been joking, you clarified that a day later; it was crass, spurred on by team radios of the two of them complaining in the latter half of the race. “It was a joke, Charles.”

“I know, baby, I know.” His lip curls and he breathes steadily, controlling himself. “It was unprompted though. You weren’t even asked about us. And yeah, a joke—but it felt shitty, love. I don’t mind it—we don’t mind it, but—” He needs to think about the phrasing, think about his intentions.

Your eyes are on fire, clearly still angry, but steadily softening.

“But in moderation,” comes Max’s raspy voice. “You’re running your mouth a lot in the media.”

“You’re one to—ah—talk,” you huff back, a futile argument.

“You need to understand that—that when you’re giddy, or angry, you can’t keep turning to interviews to express all that out. You need to sit with it. Just because we’re not…” your boyfriends, Max almost says, “…yours, doesn’t mean you can shit on us then expect us to be okay with it a few hours later. It’s a thing you do. A game you play. And it’s nice, it was nice then, but it’s annoying now, and it’s almost, like, do you even want this to keep going? To work—?”

You recoil. “You seriously think I don’t want th—”

Charles cuts in. “Well, when you play at us like this, yeah. Put in the work. If you’re high off a win, or mad for some other reason, just let it happen. Don’t fucking.” He exhales. “Call us names, then show up at our hotel acting like an angel.”

They’ve always looked out for you like this, known when to scold you or put you in your place for doing too much or not doing enough. They’ve never let personal things cross too much with business, which is a blessing of an ability when you’re three people having regular sex while balancing a ludicrous athletic career. It’s all sussed down to stupid ‘I care for you’ stuff that, frankly, they’re both too horny and angry to get into the grit of right now.

They don’t realize how quiet the room has grown until you eke out a noise, a thoughtful sound of agreement. You’ve pulled your fingers out, both hands playing with a loose thread on the hem of the sweater, rolling it into a ball. Your hair falls in waves. There’s a crease in it from the ponytail you wear when driving.

Your expression is still murderous, but much softer now; you cough, “I—I get what you’re saying. And I know I play… I have these games, or—but, honestly, I could say the same to you both.” You stutter through your totally shit explanation.

“How do you… mean,” deadpans Max.

“I mean, when I’m acting out, you two just take it.” Having them at your mercy like that is satisfying in its own right, but pragmatically, it’s unhealthy. “You don’t ever tell me off. Even now. I need you to tell me… to fucking,” you’re warm and spluttery now. “Fuck's sake, okay? I know I can be annoying. I know I say stupid shit when I don’t finish and I’m way less diplomatic than Mr. Il Predestinato,” you breathe. “But you two just let me be annoying!”

“Then don’t be annoying,” Charles says, diplomatic as ever—his voice rises, though, nearly matching yours.

“Not like that!” You huff, folding your legs and sitting straighter, and they catch a glimpse of your pink panties again. “When I’m out of line, you”—you point to them—“need to correct me.” They’re nearly blindsided by your request to… be told what to do, which is so different from how sex usually works. From how this whole dynamic usually works.

But Max remembers your manager, and Toto, and your teammate Lewis even, and your engineers, who have all, at one point or another, had to talk you down and tell you to calm down and correct your behavior. So he says, “People do that all the time, but it only works for a second.”

“Because th—” You suck in a lungful of air. “They’re not you two, you daft fuckers!” You’re at the centre of the bed now, sweater drooped over your folded thighs, eyes matching the rain outside. “Every time, I need to be talked down, and you never. Do it. So do it. Fucking—do it. I have to tell you everything.”

“You don’t—-”

“Oh, I do.” You say, folding your arms over your chest.

“This is despicable,” Max says. “We need to sort this out properly.”

“So what? This isn’t”—you raise violent air quotes—“putting in the work?”

They glance at each other for a minute. They feel you thinking you’re winning, thinking they’ll grovel and say okay we’ll do that next time, can we fuck you? Like all the other semi-resolved fights before. You’re sitting straight, eyebrows raised, defiant. But for them to do that—you just said it wasn’t what you needed.

And they’d have to be caught dead before not giving you what you need. If you want to be bossed around a bit, then they’ll do it.

“Sit down,” Charles goes. Unmoving.

“What.” You’re deadpanning, eyes narrowed.

“Sit the fuck down,” he repeats. You open your mouth, but he’s quicker. “Don’t make me say it again.”

You pout, leaning against the headboard and unfolding your legs. He rounds the room, sits at the foot of the bed. It’s a big bed, so even if he’s on it, he still needs to reach over a bit to be able to touch you. The distance is good, though, keeps them in control. Max sits opposite him, both of them on either side of you, and they’re so close, so scrutinizing, so handsome.

“Put your fingers in your mouth,” he says. You take a second, spreading your knees and obeying. You find a way, though, to make their little challenge all your own—you make a show of it, peeking your tongue out and licking your bottom lip all shiny before hollowing your cheeks. You stare at them the whole time and you don’t blink. It’s hotter than it has any right to be. “Suck on them.” You continue doing it, lips slightly curled.

“You’re a brat.” You try to conceal the whimper that leaves you but it fails pathetically. Charles presses on. “A spoiled brat.”

He’s the nicer of the two. Your whole threesome situation had began three years ago, and in almost every tryst since then, he’s been nice. In fact, if any of them were to ever ‘tell you off’ like you so desperately wanted, apparently, it would have definitely been Max. He’s firm, yeah, but he’s sweet. And he’d hate to boss you around too much, even if it’s something he wants. So he thinks, and he pretends he’s back to quali day of last week. It was a slow morning because of weather problems, so everyone was in a mood, and you were absolutely no exception. You come off as quiet to the public and to some of the grid, but to your friends, you’re anything but.

In an effort to lift the mood, you’d been mouthing off the entire day to your close circle of driver friends, in particular retelling the story of how you had teased Charles post-DNF in Saudi, and even gotten Lando to laugh about it at the time. What a season starter, you said when you were recounting it. You left out a detail: that night in Saudi, he’d fucked you and refused to let you cum, soaking your pillow with tears and goading a sobbed apology out of you.

Watching you joke about it again, even if it was a fucking joke and even if it was because you were mad at him and Max—got him all red hot, pissed off. Seething.

“Do you remember last race weekend when you joked about my DNF in Saudi?”

Cheeks hollowed, you nod.

“Fucking brat. That whole day. Ignoring me, ignoring Max. Didn’t listen to our apologies. Just noise all day.”

Your brows knit defiantly.

“I’m serious. You weren’t being funny. Just a brat. And if you were bored or pissed, you could’ve said so instead of making me look stupid.” You nod.

He glimpses at Max; the latter speaks next. “Open yourself up.”

You spread your legs out farther and sneak your spit-slick fingers down, pushing the flimsy material aside to rub at your cunt, two fingers sliding right back in. You breathe out shakily and wait for them to talk again. You’re still fussy, high-strung, not totally calm and mellowed down yet.

“When Charles and I aren’t here to fuck you into behaving, who’s going to make sure you’re acting proper?”

“Carlos,” you grit out in between thrusts.

They seethe. “Again,” Charles says, unamused.

“Nat,” you name your manager. “Lewis, or something. Fuck. Lando? I don’t—”

You asked to be told what to do, but you never said, they suppose, that it would be an easy job. “Guess again.”

“Toto.” You look delighted at that last one, knowing the implication. They’ve always been a bit jealous there. You thrive off disobedience, getting your two favorite boys all angry and flushed red with it. You open your mouth to try smartassing your way out of their orders, but Max beats you to it. “If you guess wrong, you’re not cumming. We’ll fuck you tonight, but no cumming.”

You whimper out loud, sinking your fingers farther in, adding a third.

“Don’t add another. Answer Max,” Charles says.

“Fuck,” you seethe, slipping the third out on your next thrust. “Me. I’m supposed to keep myself in check. When I’m mad. When I’m giddy and fuck—yeah. Me. It’s me.”

“Good girl,” he rasps out. “Good girl. You have to practice. How does it feel?”

I know, you mouth, eyes fluttering. You scissor the two fingers you’re thrusting in and out, wet with slick. “Feels good.”

“Not your fingers, love,” Max says. “How’s it feel hearing what we just told you?”

“Good, better,” you say in-between breaths. “I’ll practice. I like it. You’re not… letting me push you around. You’re—you can punish—fuck. Me.”

“Yeah? How, then?”

“Fuck me,” you repeat breathlessly. “Both of you.”

“Add another,” Charles orders, and you nod, quick and pliant, fucking yourself open. They’re both so hard, cocks heavy and uncomfortable in their jeans. You can see the thick shapes of them through the denim, and you thrust harder, a futile attempt to replicate how it feels when they’re fucking you.

“You remember how it feels, having both of us in you?” Max sounds amused.

“Yes,” you moan. Your pathetic imitation of moans and gasps earlier pales in comparison to this, voice dry and thick with pleasure and raw desperation. “Yes, pl—fuck, yes.”

“Why aren’t you feeling it now?” They need to hear you verbalize the reason why, admit it one last time before they give you what you want. You whine, rutting your hips up against your hand, catching your clit on the heel of your palm.

“Because I was being a brat, and I—you were being childish, but I didn’t want to talk things through either—and I’m always taking out my emotions on you guys, and I’m sorry, okay, would you just fuck me already?”

They’re on you immediately, all words and whispers, fingers at your chin turning you both ways to slot kisses on your mouth. Your free hand palms over Max’s bulge; he’s the one to your right. It’s hard and thick and heavy and you need it, need them. Charles’ hand takes over yours, thrusting deep and you’re whimpering into his sweet mouth.

“Feel my cock?” Max asks, “Could make you feel real nice, baby.”

“I know,” you sigh, breathless. “I want it.”

“When's the last time you took us both?” Charles asks, smile wicked. “Little thing like you.”

You grit out a moan, fuzzy and floating, letting them lift you up to straddle—one of them—you open your eyes and see Charles staring up at you, wonder and green eyes. “Got this, love?” You nod, yeah, I’ve got it, you say, little sighs. Both of you. Now.

This space you’re in, where it’s pleasure and fuzz and nothing else, is comparable to the high of winning. And you know you prefer that to sex, at least now, because racing is your life. It’s the slow satisfaction of being the best on the entire grid, despite everything. It’s the cheers, the raised fists when you climb atop your car and bring the crowd to a crescendo. The even louder screams when you pull your helmet and balaclava off and smile, trophy and all, champagne shiny and glowy on your face. All that shit—it’s addictive, and it feels just like this. So similar, in fact, because when you win, you finish on top of Charles and Max, and—

—Max is behind you, jeans tugged just enough for his cock to be pulled free, slick with lube and prodding at your ass—

—it feels just fucking like this.

“Like Max’s cock filling you up?” His cockhead is breaching your tight entrance and you moan out loud.

“I missed it,” you say, muffled by Charles’ free thumb at your lips, swirling it on your tongue. You flip him off for cutting you off and he laughs. “Give it t’me,” you goad, turning slightly. You want it so bad, missed being fed with their cocks. A week is too long. “I need more of it, all of it. In me, fill me up,” you beg, whimpering, desperate.

Max stares at your ass, grabs at the flesh there, at the string of your thong. You suck him in so hungrily, like you’re challenging him to not thrust in fully; you’re canting your hips backward too, and Max has to hike the too-big sweater up to watch the muscles of your back flex to meet his dick.

“So pretty, princess,” Charles says, because with them you really are a princess. Max begins to thrust into you from behind and you’re getting little moans fucked out of you, watching Charles unbuckle his jeans to tug his cock out, thick and pretty and you want—if you could, you would suck on it, let him fuck your throat, but you’re in the business of being filled to the point of blank thoughts right now.

You feel Charles at your cunt then, your slick making the slide easier, and Charles bucks his hips up and you—this is what you needed, to mellow you down, get you all loose and ready for more. “Take it, baby,” Max says, “all of it, all of us.”

“Ah,” you gasp out. “Ah.”

“Come on,” he grits, voice hardening. “You’re ruined. Pretty little girl. Come on.”

“Maxie,” you call out weakly, your fond little nickname for him. You remember Charles whining about how he doesn’t have one, so you save baby for him, had sussed that out on a night where they took turns fucking you. Your hips torn between the two dicks stuffing you, face sweaty and the sweater doesn’t help, gets you hotter; Charles gets the hint, and with effort, pulls it off you. Your skin is shiny underneath, matching bra sticking to your sweaty, sheened out skin.

“Love it,” you say, voice strained. “Split—fuck—me open.” Your holes clench around them and Jesus, they could have you all flushed and pretty and spread out like them, like this, forever. Charles grabs at the flesh of your ass, slaps you once and you’re tightening around them, breath impossibly still, thighs shaking. Max’s hands hold your hips tight, hungrily traveling up, groping at the wire of your bra to press at your tits. You’re pressed against both of them at a delicious angle that gets you dizzy.

“I’m gonna cum, I,” you breathe out, moaning, “I haven’t touched myself since…”

They both moan at that, delirious. Fuck. The thought of you holding it—for them—fuck.

“You’re so perfect, so—fuck—slutty,” Charles says, and you can’t hide the moan fast enough. “Feels good, having us in you, yeah? Getting you all noisy and… fucking—shit. I know how much you needed this, love. I know how much you love it. Us.”

From behind, Max snakes a hand up your abdomen, the column of your throat, and wraps there. You see white from the sensation of it alone.

“Tell me—I can’t—please, I—Charles—Maxie—” You’re increasingly incoherent, slick running down your thighs, twitching vigorously. You try to comprehend everything but you’re losing coherence and they get it, they get it, wiping your tears and sweat and coercing you to cum, yeah, pretty little pussy so fucking wet for us, cum hard, come on, you’ve been so good, baby, the best girl for us.

There’s no way either of them are lasting after that, after watching you fall apart and finish on top of them, stuffed full, stuffed pliant, stuffed fucking docile.

It’s your turn, then, to praise, your favorite boys, always so good for me, thank you for letting me cum, come on, let me taste it—and you’re stained with their release after a few minutes, Max biting on your shoulder, Charles’ thumb indenting your hip.

—

What. A. Podium, ladies and gentlemen! Max Verstappen of Red Bull, from P6 in the last race to a stunning P3 drive—Charles Leclerc, braving the team’s dismal strategy to get P2! What a knockout. Of course the Mercedes legend, gunning for four championships now, had crossed the flag first to claim her fifth P1 of the season.

What a legendary race, absolutely proper podium. They showed us what driving is, real driving.

The season is heating up.

Makes you wonder what happened over the weekend for them to get such good results.

This is F1. I’m sure they keep each other motivated.

#f1 #charles leclerc #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc imagines #charles leclerc x reader #max verstappen #max verstappen smut #max verstappen imagines #max verstappen x reader #f1 x reader

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psychicreadsgirl · 11 months ago

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Pick a Novel: Keywords/prominent themes in your life

Pick the novel that draws your attention the most. If you can't decide between two, then look at the 2 readings. This is a general reading, so not everything will apply. Please take what resonates and leave what doesn't behind!

Keywords: love, lust, passion, fun, temperament, cafe, sweet, bicycle, pen, books, music, loyalty, winter, sofa, furniture, thoughts, light, intuition, soulmate, art, obsidian, cake, carbonated water, skincare, socks, cooking

Celebrities/Public Figures: Audrey Hepburn, Min Yoongi, IU, Claude Monet, Angela Merkel, Andrew Carnegie, John Johnson, Mark Zuckerberg, Larry Page, Howard Schultz, Sam Walton, Amancio Ortega, Queen Elizabeth I, Jane Austen, Jennie Kim

Countries: Italy, Canada, South Africa, Thailand, Saudi Arabia, Singapore, Greece, Madagascar, Qatar, Sweden, Zambia, Taiwan, Solomon Islands

Numbers: 11, 1, 5, 9, 80, 888, 6

Brands: Hermes, Tiffany, Apple, Instagram, Taobao, Lamborghini, Deloitte, Microsoft, Chopard, Givenchy, Patek Phillipe, Chloe, Alaia, Kraft,

Kpop songs: Young Forever by BTS, Shine by PENTAGON, Me Gustas Tu by GFRIEND, Run to You by DJ DOC, Love Lee by AKMU, Deja vu by TXT, Back Down by P1Harmony, Love shot by EXO

Keywords: economy, job loss, new opportunities, play, drama, anger, frustration, lost, compass, computers, battery, feet, head, brain, summer, pearl, avocado, junk food, fried chicken, challenge, frugal

Celebrities/Public Figures: Grace Kelly, Billie Eilish, Keanu Reeves, Rosé, Jung Hoseok, Salma Hayek, Pablo Picasso, Princess Diana, Thomas Edison, Sergey Brin, Mary I, William Shakespeare, Lee Nayeon

Countries: New Zealand, USA, Maldives, Indonesia, United Kingdom, Venezuela, Lithuania, Nepal, Portugal, Poland, Lebanon, Mali, Netherlands

Numbers: 4, 99, 101, 33, 13, 14, 0

Brands: Masion Margiela, Amazon, facebook, Shein, PWC, Missoni, Moschino Couture, Toyota, citi bank, Chaumet, Polene, Pizza Hut,

Kpop songs: Love Dive by IVE, Shangri-la by VIXX, Sweety by Clazziquai, I NEED U by BTS, The Chaser by Infinite, Magnetic by ILLIT, My House by 2PM, ICY by ITZY

Keywords: tales, gossip, lies, funny, movies, theatre, cell phone, cool, kpop, magenta, ancient, history, claws, cats, tiger, fall, jealousy, games, aquamarine, lemons, makeup, pencil, groceries

Celebrities/Public Figures: Beyonce, Lady Gaga, Morgan Freeman, Kim Seokjin, Jang Wonyoung, Matt Damon, Napoleon Bonaparte, Shinzo Abe, Steve Jobs, Voltaire, Kim Jisoo,

Countries: Ethiopia, France, Russia, Ireland, Argentina, Afghanistan, Libya, Rwanda, Nigeria, Pakistan, Morocco, Malta, Kazakhstan, Kenya, Iraq,

Numbers: 2, 7, 69, 25, 55, 79, 1182

Brands: Saint Laurent, miumiu, Starbucks, Mercedez-Benz, Nestle, Oracle, Tod's, Bulgari, Rolex, KFC, SUBWAY, Carrefour, Kellog's

Kpop songs: Supernova by aespa, Maestro by seventeen, Not by the moon by GOT7, Alone by Sistar, Hip by MAMAMOO, Good Day by IU, Bite Me by ENHYPEN, Work by ATEEZ, The Feels by TWICE

Keywords: foreign, spicy, peppery, rice, no, objection, resistance, control, storms, thunderstorms, shower, tension, crush, pop, paper, mango, legs, fragrance, emerald, clothing rack, tomatoes, defeat,

Celebrities/Public Figures: Judy Garland, Margot Robbie, G-Dragon, Jeon Jungkook, Pharrell Williams, Emmanuel Macron, Bill Clinton, King Charles, Warren Buffet, Cleopatra, Kim Mingyu

Countries: South Korea, Philippines, Scotland, Spain, Albania, Guatemala, Malaysia, Iran, Romania, Honduras, Georgia, Croatia, Belgium, Czech Republic, Gambia, Guinea

Numbers: 31, 75, 412, 43, 486, 640

Brands: Chanel, Prada, Bentley, Gucci, Samsung, Disney, BMW, Hyundai, cisco, Van Cleefs & Arpels, Dior, Loro Piana, Shake Shack

Kpop songs: Gee by SNSD, If you by BIGBANG, Antifragile by LE SSERAFIM, Up and Down by EXID, OMG by NewJeans, Lion by (G)I-DLE, Hello by TREASURE,

Keywords: death, mystery, mirror, reflection, shadow, black, grey, white, funeral, video, sprint, pool, gym, streets, metro, subway, chocolate, broken, knees, moon, ruby, surgery, teeth, race

Celebrities/Public Figures: Marilyn Monroe, Barack Obama, Kate Winslet, Kim Taehyung, Aamir Khan, Marie Antoinette, Elon Musk, Robert F Kennedy, Jeff Bezos, Richard Branson, Edward VIII, Charles Dickens, Abraham Lincoln, Park Bogum,

Countries: North Korea, China, Vietnam, Brazil, Bangladesh, Cambodia, Germany, India, Israel, Laos, Haiti, Dominican Republic, Congo, Cuba, Egypt, Mongolia

Numbers: 3, 97, 17, 19, 52, 98

Brands: Ralph Lauren, Celine, Ferrari, Huawei, Uber, intel, UPS, Calvin Klein, Piaget, Guerlain, Berluti, Pepsi, Cadbury

Kpop songs: Shut down by Blackpink, Seven by Jeon Jungkook, God's Menu by Stray Kids, Love Love Love by Epik High, Very Nice by SEVENTEEN, Birthday by Jeon Somi, Psycho by Red Velvet,

Keywords: travel, toxic, break away, departure, memory, dreams, truth, unveil, diary, journal, coffee, jacket, shoes, hands, social media, news, competition, autumn, diamonds, electricity, TV, cheat, fashion

Celebrities/Public Figures: Jane Birkin, Kim Jiwon, Gigi Hadid, Charlize Theron, Park Jimin, Salman bin Abdulaziz Al Saud, Maximilien Robespierre, Bill Gates, Queen Elizabeth II, Vladimir Putin, Henry Ford, James Joyce, Lalisa Manobal

Countries: Japan, Australia, Mexico, Iceland, Finland, Eritrea, Ecuador, Costa Rica, Cyprus, Bolivia, Botswana, Bahamas,

Numbers: 8, 646, 152, 37, 49, 22

Brands: Louis Vuitton, Lexus, Tesla, Fendi, Walmart, Nike, Siemens, Google, Cartier, Burberry, Ferragamo, Burger King, Unilever

Kpop songs: ROCKSTAR by LISA, Cherry bomb by NCT 127, Move by Taemin, Dramarama by MONSTA X, Love Scenario by iKON, Get a Guitar by RIIZE, Replay by SHINee, Candy Sugar Pop by ASTRO, Mr. Simple by Super Junior

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justporo · 2 years ago

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Office Hours

Author's Note: This - this is finally the promised wizard smut with Professor Gale Dekarios. I've written this as a fill for Kinktober Challenge. Please enjoy, while I go bury myself. I'm so excited to hear your feedback, because writing this was daunting. Happy Halloween!

Summary: You took up a PhD project under the infamous Professor for Wizardry Gale Dekarios but you also have a huge crush on him. Stuff getting a little heated at a party could almost ruin your future though. Things between you and Professor Dekarios are tense from there on out - until you go to confront him about it. (All characters are over 18!)

Pairing: Professor!Gale / Fem!Tav (You) Rating: Explicit Warnings: explicit sexual content! Wordcount: 8,2k (I'm so sorry...)

~~~

Another shot of tequila was placed in front of you.

“Bottom’s up, love!”, Astarion cheerfully exclaimed and clanked his own shot against yours. You drunkenly turned your head towards him. As always when you went for a night out with your best friend, he kept putting drinks (and a reasonable amount of water in between) in front of you while he barely seemed to get drunk.

“We’re not even bothering with salt and lem-lemons anymore?”, you drawled sluggishly. It was time to stop soon as long as you were still able to remember what you were doing.

Astarion didn’t even reply just kept swaying to the beat of the current song blasting through the club and clinked his glass against yours again to make you take it. And so you did.

You both threw your drinks back and shuddered when the liquor ran down your throats. “You’re really pushing me tonight, Astarion”, you screamed over the loud blasting music.

“Yeah well”, he shrugged as his eyes wandered back to the dancefloor and the hunk of a man he’d been dancing with almost the whole night – at least when you hadn’t danced with him.

“It’s not every day that my bestie has to celebrate that renowned PhD position with the infamous Professor Dekarios, is it?”, Astarion screamed back at you.

And it was true, it most definitely wasn’t every day. Because not only did you get the approval of the prodigy professor who was famously known for being strict and very demanding to be your supervisor. But you were the only one he’d taken on for a PhD project since… well, since he was in the position to do so it seemed. he’d t

But you had thus far always excelled in his classes. You’d been the very role model student during your time here.

And sure, you had worked your ass off for it, but it was well worth it. A finished PhD under a prodigy such as Gale Dekarios of Waterdeep would open you every door in the wizarding world.

It might also have helped that you had a huge crush on Professor Dekarios. The way this man spoke passionately about all things Wizardry and Weave had captured you from the very beginning. Just how his whole demeanor changed when he started talking about his research and how passionate he became. The way his eyes lit up when he got to talk about his work.

And then also: how he absent-mindedly let his hands wander through his hair when he was thinking about how to word something. How he let his thumb wander over his bottom lip as he intently listened to one of your questions and praised you afterwards for how clever it had been.

It was safe to say you had found yourself daydreaming about what else that man could do with that eloquent mouth of his more than once. Or how it would be if he praised you for more than just your smartass little questions.

“You know he’s here tonight, don’t you? Since it’s a faculty party”, Astarion kept on yelling into your ear, already grabbing the shot glasses to go get more.

“WHAT?”, you screamed – and this time it was clearly audible over the music in the club. You stared at Astarion in shock.

“Love, it’s your faculty and you brought me here, might I add. Shouldn’t you know about this kind of stuff? I saw him when I went to the bar”, Astarion yelled back with a mocking grin. Then he was off again with a naughty wink to get new drinks.

He was right. He was actually a history PhD student and had nothing to do with your wizarding studies. And still he always seemed to be better informed about these gossipy bits of information.

You gulped when you were reminded of what kind of revealing dress you were wearing tonight – black, short, low cut waterfall neckline. The thought that Professor Dekarios might have seen you in it and how you had danced in it – it scared you and excited you at the same time.

The fact that you were already solidly drunk definitely meant that it was leaning more towards the latter.

And then, sure as all Hells, you saw him: Professor Gale Dekarios walking into this part of club.

He looked a little out of place with his slacks and shirt-sweater combination – totally dressed for teaching, grading and researching and not for going down at the club.

Dekarios walked over to some people standing in a loose circle – people you realised now were other faculty members. You watched him intently – noticing the little details while you were drowned by increasingly unhinged thoughts. You saw that his shirt wasn’t neatly tugged in anymore, one hand was casually in his pocket while the other held a glass of red wine nonchalantly by the rim – letting it hang by his side. Sometime during conversation, he absent-mindedly dragged his hand through his hair. He always did that when he was deep in thought or having one of his passionate scholarly monologues during a lecture.

For all the scholarly nerdiness (and sometimes cute awkwardness) this man possessed – he was effortlessly sexy when he felt relaxed it seemed. And man, were you down bad for him.

You were still staring at Dekarios’ butt – that actually looked formidable in his slacks - when Astarion returned and slid another drink over to you. He saw how absent-mindedly you were staring off into the distance and tried to figure out what you were looking at.

When he did, a feral grin split his face: “Honestly, I’d fuck him if given the chance.”

“Astarion!” You whacked his arm as you were ripped out of your stupor.

“Don’t act like that, sweetheart, I know you would get on your knees so quickly for that man. I’ve had to listen to your horny yearnings for two years, remember?”

You blushed because he was right – as he sadly mostly was. The shit-eating grin stayed firmly on Astarion’s stupid face as he looked at you

“Yeah, as if anything would ever happen”, you simply retorted then, not wanting to indulge your friend’s insolent behaviour any further.

“And yet you keep wearing sluttly little outfits to all his classes”, Astarion drawled and his eyebrow twitched while he called you out. “I do believe even wizards have eyes to see what is right in front of them – even though it’s mostly just books.”

“That coming from a godsdamned history student is really low”, you replied and left it at that.

You were not having this conversation right now. So you settled for whacking Astarion’s arm again - which made him hiss at you that he hadn’t even said anything anymore - and then grabbing the drink he’d brought you, downing it in one go.

“Maybe instead of calling me out you could double down on your other best friend duties and go dance with me again?”, you suggested after suppressing a shudder from the downed alcohol.

Astarion just replied with grinning at you and stretched out his arm in an elegant gesture towards the dancefloor, motioning you to get going then.

You went and danced, having even some more drinks while doing that. That man built like a massive tree eventually joined the two of you as he had been dancing with Astarion before. He introduced himself as Halsin and told you that he was a visiting researcher – only staying for a little while at your institution.

You exchanged some small talk per screaming while on the dancefloor. But shortly after it was back to your best friend Astarion and him dancing and eventually even making out with each other.

You didn’t mind at all – in fact you were happy Astarion seemed to enjoy himself. And you happily let them have their space and just let yourself be taken by the music.

You swayed and rocked to the beats, lifted your arms and rolled your hips – enjoying how good the movements made you feel.

A soft buzz coming from your hip and the tiny bag swinging there made you look at your phone after a while. It was Astarion.

“Gonna leave with our new friend if that’s ok with u? Wanna make sure he remembers his time here well!”

Gods, even after a night out with lots of drinking Astarion was still wasting time on being eloquent.

“Go get it bestie”, you simply replied and grinned at yourself. You were already excited to hear about it afterwards when you next up with Astarion for a coffee or something.

You received one more text from Astarion asking you to text him when you got home safely. You agreed with a quick text and then went back to dancing.

All the booze you’ve had was giving you the confidence to keep going on the dancefloor even though the club was finally emptying bit by bit. The songs played were less popular now but therefore more enthralling and so you let yourself get dragged along by the music.

Until you opened your eyes and saw that you were being watched. And not by just anyone.

A bit off the dance floor Professor Dekarios was sitting on his own now in one of the leather seats there, his legs spread. He was holding another glass of red wine, carefully placed on one of the armrests. His other hand was at his chin – motionless though. You could see his single earring glint in the flickering club lights. His one side of hair was fanned out around his head.

He sat there like a statue – just very intently staring at you, giving you an immediate feeling of being stripped bare before him. He wasn’t even reacting to you catching him staring.

At least that was what you thought. But then you noticed the prominent bulge between his legs, straining against the fabric of his slacks.

Your lips parted in silent surprise and you immediately felt how your nipples hardened and rubbed against your dress in arousal. You gulped and wet your lips while your whole mouth suddenly felt overwhelmingly dry.

When you looked up again you saw just the slightest sparkle in the eyes of your observer.

And that – probably in combination with all the liquid courage you had consumed tonight - was enough to get you going again.

Knowing the audience, you then began to dance again – putting in even more effort than before: fluid motions, making your hips roll more prominently, dragging up the skirt of your dress just a little too much as you turned around to give him a view of your back.

You let your hands wander up your front when you turned around again, deliberately letting them linger on your breasts and squeezing them as you dragged your hands up and feeling them softly jiggle when you let them go again.

When you looked at your watcher you saw how he had leaned forward slightly in his seat now. Bulge now even more prominently outlined against his pants if that was even possible. His thumb wandering over the bottom lip of his open mouth as he watched you – just like he did when you asked an incredibly smart question in one of his courses.

You were feeling feverish and heedlessly aroused, probably dripping wet too. The thought of just sauntering over and sitting on his lap and pushing your boobs in his face crossed your mind as you turned around again to give him more opportunity to stare at your ass.

And when you turned around again…

The spell was broken. Someone had come over to Dekarios and engaged him in conversation. You saw how he had awkwardly placed his one arm over where his testament of arousal was probably still clearly obvious. He didn’t acknowledge you with a single glance anymore.

And you felt like someone had poured ice cold water over you. The heat of desire and lust quickly replaced with the heat of burning shame. You felt cheap suddenly and very self-conscious. At least the club was so empty now that mostly anyone else wouldn’t have noticed – or they’d been way too out of it to care.

You stormed off the dancefloor and out of the club, already regretting how you had it let come to this. Hoping you wouldn’t have just ruined everything you’ve worked so hard for.

Six months later…

Stuff had mostly went backwards and downhill from that party night on. Although Astarion had congratulated you and while he had wheezed and applauded you when you had told him about what had happened after he'd left. But you had barely been able to eat up your shame to resume attending Professor Dekarios’ lectures. Your keen sense of duty being the only thing that forced you back there after you had allowed yourself to miss a few classes because you wouldn’t have been able to handle it at all.

And when you had finally managed you had been smitten with completely being ignored by the man itself. He rarely acknowledged you anymore in his lectures, brushed over your questions and avoided you at every cost. That meant barely any eye contact, not even when he had to speak to you in public, no communication on your research project whatsoever and he mysteriously managed to never meet you walking around campus.

You had felt guilty and afraid at first – fearing that at some point you would just receive a formal letter that told you that you and your appointed studies were dropped without further notice.

But when that didn’t happen, you couldn't also help to feel at least a smidge of anger whenever you thought about it: obviously you had been trying to commit yourself to forget what had happened and start working on your research project. Why did he have to insist on making it awkward?

You wouldn't bring up the topic, certainly. You were prepared to just act like nothing ever happened at all – even if you would remember it every single time you looked at the man. Forever reminded of the shame of that moment; but also: the desire he had looked at you with and the lust you had felt for him.

But you'd be lying to yourself if you didn’t admit that you were mostly just majorly worried. Not only because of how he was behaving towards you in public but also because of how it impacted your project. Not once had you spoken about your planned research.

So you had started on it alone. Spent countless hours researching literature, trying to find the right focus for your project, marking off topics and theories. You had worked on your exposé for the last couple of months now – once you had gotten over the fear of just being dropped like a hot potato. And you had sent it in weeks ago and not received a single shred of feedback. Which meant that, despite being pretty sure that you did good work and put in the necessary thought, finesse and care to let it live up to Professor Dekarios’ standards, you were worried sick that you wouldn’t be able to go anywhere with it.

You really feared that what you had thought first after the party had become true: you fucked up your once in a lifetime chance at breakthrough research about the Weave. And on top of that you had ruined your relationship with someone you deeply admired.

But recently shame and guilt had mostly subsided to allow feelings of rising anger. You came back to the thought of how ridiculously he behaved: if you were an adult about it all you would have hoped he would be too. If he would even talk to you at all – you’d take being screamed over this horrible silent treatment any day.

And after sulking in your own misery for way too long, you found it was time to confront him finally. You probably wouldn't exactly be the bigger person about it - but at least you wouldn't be the one running away.

When the next date for his office hours came around, you threw on some of the nicest clothes you had. A low cut blouse and faux-leather pencil skirt you knew your ass looked amazing in - at least Astarion always whistled and affectionately slapped your butt anytime he saw you wearing it.

You knew you were absolutely pushing it but that was exactly what you wanted: forcing this godsdamned prodigy wizard to man up and either tell you off for good or just... settle the unfinished business. Either way would be fine for you by now, you just wanted to be out of this limbo state.

You made your way over campus to his office, in your head already riling yourself up to be appropriately angry when you confronted him. Stomping over the university grounds while you imagined countless scenarios and outcomes and already felt good about your decision to finally take action.

But your righteous fury hit some bumps quickly.

The first thing that took you aback was the small sticky note at his office door telling anyone to just come in and that he'd be back very soon.

This was almost enough already to take the wind out of your sails completely. You had hoped to throw open his door dramatically and scream at him to either give you proper feedback on your exposé or just stick it up his godsdamned wizard arse.

You swallowed and tried to retain your anger as you opened the door.

You had only been to his office a few times before you had taken up the PhD project.

It was beautiful, a dream for anyone who was in love with magic and books and studying: the walls were lined with dark bookshelves and loads of magical trinkets, just anything imaginable. Even though dark wood dominated the room it wasn’t gloomy but rather cozy and welcoming.

The eye was quickly drawn to the huge wooden desk centred at the back with a huge window behind it. Stacked on it were books and papers. Dekarios believed in being old school when it came to his studies and work, you knew as much.

You were in awe - and absolutely jealous.

"Hello visitor, Mr Dekarios has just gone out to get coffee", you heard a voice from somewhere behind the desk.

You were only shortly confused because the voice quickly turned out to be Tara, Professor Dekarios' tressym that lived with him, when the gentle beast jumped up on the desk. Only once before had you had the pleasure of speaking with her - she was truly a gentle and very sweet soul.

"He will be back sho-. Oh, it's you!", she said and interrupted herself. Her long fluffy tail started swish-swishing behind her while she sat down on the very middle of the desk. Her yellow cat eyes observed you cautiously – but not unfriendly.

Your brows furrowed. You couldn't believe though that the small creature would actually remember you from just speaking with you once.

But it seemed the tressym had read your mind on that because she angled her head as you came closer and then said: "Mr Dekarios speaks a lot about you, you know."

You would have given a good amount of gold to be able to read the expression on the cat's face better.

"He does?", you answered dumbfoundedly. "Because he hasn't really talked to me in actual months." The fluffy tail flicked forcefully around once when you said that but then Tara just kept looking at you.

"Of course, he does! He basically never shuts up about you. And I'm pretty sure he almost never stops thinking about you either, it's uh-"

The tressym's tail flicked around even more and she worked her front paws around, almost as if she was shuffling around awkwardly.

"A bit unnerving sometimes", Tara finished and cocked her head again, looking up at you curiously.

You felt yourself blush and desperately tried not to think too much about what the creature could have meant.

"Although, I have to say, I fear you kind of messed with his mind that night some months ago even though he wouldn't tell me exactly what had made him so... upset. And then of course he had his own bad experiences in the past when he was in your position. But Mr Dekarios tends to forget that he's quite a different person than his former... acquaintance."

You could barely believe your ears. Also you were probably absolutely tomato red from your neck up. You did not exactly know what had happened to the anger you had come here with, but it surely wasn't present anymore - at least for the time being.

The fact that you seemingly were a predominant thing on the mind of your professor was disarming to say the least. And also you had the feeling that the tressym had just let you in on some quite personal stuff about Professor Dekarios although you could not make sense of any of it.

When he had been in your position? Former acquaintance? What was that supposed to mean?

The subject matter chose this exact moment to enter the scene.

"Tara has anyone...", Professor Gale Dekarios said while he flung open his office door with a coffee in his other hand.

His mouth immediately snapped shut again when he spotted you as you had turned around at the sound of the opening door.

You stared at each other for a very long moment.

"I'll leave you two alone, excuse me", Tara said cheerfully, jumped off the desk and sauntered out of the room through the door that was still being held open by the wizard. You weren’t entirely sure but you thought you heard Tara hiss “be nice to her, I like her” in passing to her wizard before she slipped out the door.

Tara's departure helped you both out of your stupor. Dekarios closed the door behind himself and awkwardly kept standing around at the entrance of his office. Meanwhile you crossed your arms over your chest and felt at least some of the anger return at the sight of him.

"Tav", he said. His tone was defeated and you could see his shoulders visibly slump. It easily ignited the rest of your fury in you again.

"Professor Dekarios", you almost spat.

"Please. Just call me Gale."

And snap - the anger was gone again. It was ridiculous how easily this man could change your mood just like that.

Gale started to walk over to you as you noticed that he was wearing almost the same thing he had that night at the club. You couldn’t help but blush.

The wizard's brown eyes were filled with a wild mix of emotions you couldn’t quite interpret as he came closer. He ran his free hand through his hair in a nervous gesture, making his single earring swing around as he brushed against it accidentally.

You swallowed and lifted up your chin - not wanting to give in to him and his beaten puppy behaviour.

"I guess it was about time we talked, wasn't it?", Gale said when he was standing almost right in front of you.

He leaned around you to put down his coffee in a to-go cup on his desk.

You couldn't help but to catch his scent: soft cologne, the smell of books, the fresh coffee he had been carrying. Involuntarily your lips parted.

But you quickly bit down on them, you wouldn't lose composure now.

"You think?", you spat when some anger flared up again. You immediately regretted it. The last time you had your whimsical emotions take over had been the instance to get you in all the mess.

The anger was mirrored in Gale's eyes for a short few moments. Then he calmed down again quickly and just sighed defeatedly.

"You're angry with me", he simply said. His voice was deep and warm. He was now standing directly in front of you. His gaze directly on you. And you saw how his eyes flicked down and up again. Several times.

You felt that you lost the grip on your anger with the way he looked at you so sadly. So you decided to make a last ditch effort before you would probably just break down crying or running from his office – and all of this would have been for naught.

"Yes, I am angry with you", you almost yelled at him. And you forced yourself to be done with being taken aback by small details now.

Before you could think better of it you launched into the rant you had long prepared: "You took me in as you're PhD student, so you promised to help and supervise me with my research. I worked my ass off in the last months. I sent you my exposé which is - as you might know as a scholar yourself - quite critical to get started, or find scholarships for that matter. I did a lot of research already. I had countless sleepless nights. My caffeine intake has become more than unhealthy. And never ONCE did I receive an ounce of your help." You really made yourself more enraged now as you kept talking. Finally letting it all out felt incredibly freeing.

Gale's eyes mirrored what you were feeling. You were certain, he was probably just as upset as you, but you couldn't care less in this moment.

"And if all of this is caused by that one night at the club, the fucking faculty party, might I tell you: seriously, fuck you! I've seen exactly how you looked at me! I didn’t just make an arse of myself, you did too! And if you can’t handle that fact, either tell me to just go fuck off and I'll be gone or man up and stop avoiding me or..."

You let the last part hang up in the air.

Gale's eyes were ablaze by now. He stepped in closer to you. You had never seen him be this intense. Not even when he was talking about his most passionate areas of his work.

"Do you really think I act like this because it is fun for me?", he snapped at you, his tone had taken on an authoritative tone. A tone that usually only came out when he was putting someone in his place – the scholarly way.

He kept walking towards you, making you take steps back. "You might think it was easy for me the last couple of months. But I had to look at you, every godsdamned lecture when you wear stuff like this." He gesticulated at your outfit, licking his lips and letting his eyes drop to your dangerously deep neckline. "Making me remember how you danced for me that night. Making me think of what might have happened." You stumbled against the edge of his desk, unable to keep your distance from him now.

And he was still coming closer, until you almost lost your balance trying to keep some space between the two of you, almost falling onto the piece of furniture behind you. You could already feel the heat his body was giving off.

He still didn’t stop, until there was in fact not a mere inch between you and his body pressed against yours even though you tried to lean back on the table.

"I am only trying to protect you", Gale continued his tone now pleading, his eyes soft and full of worry – but not hiding what lay beneath that. He was so close you could see every little detail of him: the lines of the mysterious tattoo swirling over his neck and cheek, the scruff of his beard, his soft eyes and the strands of grey in his hair, the subtle wrinkles around his eyes or the worry lines on his forehead.

But this made you angry again. Who was he to tell you what you needed protection from? But then you shortly remembered Tara's words – a flash through your mind.

But you were set on your course now. The way your body reacted to the closeness of this man you’ve had so many fantasies about being the proof you hadn’t really needed anyway.

And before you could try and think better of it you exclaimed: “Or – instead of patronising me – you could do us both a favour and just fuck me, so we can both get the hells over with it!”

You were shocked by your own courage and rashness, but it was quite apparent that this man made you do things: once that night in the club, now – not to mention that he was a major part of why you chose to pursue a PhD in the first place.

Gale’s mouth dropped open in astonishment and surprise for a moment, a sound somewhere between gasp and moan left his lips.

Then he regained his senses, desire flashing in his eyes, and he flipped you over, bending you over the desk.

It was your turn to gasp and moan in surprise. You barely caught yourself with your arms, accidentally pushing off some papers and books in the process. Also knocking over the cup of coffee that just fell on the floor and spilled on the floor.

Gale immediately secured your position against his desk with his own body, pressing his hips against your backside you hoped looked just as delicious as you had planned now.

Your thoughts on that immediately disappeared though when you felt Gale’s erection press against your ass. He was already rock-hard, making you gasp more.

“Are you really sure this is what you want?”, he asked with a husky voice. You merely managed to nod and let out a breathy moan, enjoying how quickly had turned around again – this time in your absolute favour.

“Gods know I really want to see what that brain of yours can do but I’d be lying to myself if I didn’t admit that I have to say the same thing about your delectable butt you keep presenting to me”, Gale admitted in a haughty voice as he pressed himself harder against you, making the edge of the desk deliciously bite into your thighs.

You swallowed when what was happening started to settle in rationally – not just carnally. At the same time you could feel how helplessly needy you already felt, how lust pooled between your legs and flooded back again through your whole body. You had thought about this for so long but now being at his mercy felt better than anything your mind could have come up with.

Gale’s hands wandered over your ass in your skirt but the caress was still hesitant, although you could feel that the wizard was already breathing raggedly – the rise and fall of his body pressing you harder against the wood.

“Are you really sure you want to do this? Say it. Please!”, Gale whispered hoarsely, asking you again, although you could already feel how he had started to move one of his legs in between your thighs now and how his hands had wandered below the hem of your skirt and readied themselves to hike it up.

You pushed yourself up from the desk, turning around to him give him the most incredulous of looks: “I had six months to decide if I was sure about this, Gale Dekarios of Waterdeep. I was probably already sure of it when I saw you sitting in this nightclub flaunting a major erection and I made my boobs jiggle for you! I came here dressed like THIS.” You almost yelled at him. How did this idiot have you bent over his godsdamned desk and still hadn’t gotten the fucking memo?

“Well, no need to yell at me – I can hear you quite perfectly from here, thank you”, Gale replied and threw on his snappy professor voice that usually only those students got that annoyed him. He slapped your butt too and made you shut up really quickly before you could make a sassy remark.

Then he turned around slightly and you saw how he effortlessly used mage hand to turn the lock on the door. And with a quick incantation it began to glow also. You knew that spell and knew also that it wasn’t an easy feat to accomplish. Your mouth fell open.

When Gale turned back around again he took a deep breath and ran one of his hands through his hair, closing his eyes for a short moment and making the strands of brown with some grey fan around his face – all while still having you immobile between his body and his desk. Your mouth felt dry watching him do that – just casually locking you in his office with him; with one of the most powerful lock spells known to the wizarding world. And he didn’t even blink.

“There”, Gale simply said and rolled the tongue around in his mouth, letting it click once. “Point of no return now because the door is locked and sealed, is that what you wanted?”

You didn’t reply just stared at him hungrily, the lust inside basically becoming feral. You were still only turned half around, pushing up on the surface of the desk. You used the little space for movement you had and rubbed your ass against Gale’s crotch hoping that that would convey your answer to his question.

The wizard groaned and you watched his eyes roll back when he felt the friction against his erection.

“Do you even have an idea how many times I dreamt of this? Of this exact scenario?”, Gale pressed out as you felt the tingle of magic suddenly at your back and you noticed what must be another mage hand wander up your spine, softly caressing you, stroking up to the nape of your neck and curling itself in your hair.

Meanwhile Gale’s real hands were both free to hike up your skirt slowly, the feeling of his fingertips on your naked thighs making you shiver in anticipation.

“Do you know how many times I did?”, you gave back teasingly.

The mage hand in your hair yanked on it and the wizard’s hand came down on your butt again – a lot harder this time. You moaned helplessly as you felt jolts from the pleasureful pain run through your body and incinerating the fire inside you even more.

“This is not a competition!” There was the professor voice again. You tried to rub your butt against him again and earned another firm slap on your behind. Oh, you could keep going just like this for literal hours.

You heard Gale softly chuckle and then moan at your increasingly unhinged state. It seemed he was finally getting into this instead of worrying about you. And this is exactly what you wanted.

And then, to your surprise, you felt another instance of mage hand starting to wander over your body – dragging up one of your arms with which you had been supporting yourself so far and pressing it onto your back.

“In fact, do you know how many times you made me lock myself in my office after lectures because you always sit there, first row, wearing something that makes me stare at your breasts and then ask the most brilliant questions?”, Gale drawled, his voice dangerously low now. The one hand in your hair tugged on it again, making you lift up your head and look at the professor.

“I don’t know, did I?”, you answered and bit your lips and tried to turn around a little so you could force the aforementioned breasts into his field of view.

Your insolent behaviour earned you another slap and low growl from the wizard before he thrust his hips against you and made you fall prone on the desk surface now.

A third mage hand then started to work on your body, pushing you down until your chest was firmly held down on the desk. Then it grabbed your other arm until both of them were firmly held behind your back, meaning you were now absolutely immobilized and at the wizard’s mercy.

Your boobs were squished against the wooden surface, hurting in a way that was just the right amount to pleasure you. You whimpered in pleasure and closed your eyes trying to maximise your awareness of your body pressed against his.

You knew that you were dripping wet now. And you were desperate to let Gale find that one out.

“I believe, you need to be put into your place for all that, don’t you agree?”, Gale groaned as his hands finally dragged up your skirt over your buttcheeks and revealed your already completely soaked underwear.

“Uh, I mean unless… you’d rather…”, the wizard stuttered as he looked at your naked butt and how wet and ready you were for him, how his magic held you down – the mage hand at the back of your neck making you whimper now with how pleasantly hurtful it tugged on your hair. The sight of you below him had the usually eloquent professor quite at a loss for words.

You knew he was only trying to make sure you were fine but right then there you felt so desperate to just finally let your fantasies come true that you were almost ready to yell at him again to just get on with it.

“Please”, you simply whispered. And that was enough to break the wizard out of his paralysis. In a sudden change of position he knelt behind you, his hands spreading your butt for him as he pressed his open lips and tongue to your wet but still clothed core and began to suck.

You gasped in surprise and your head jolted upwards, straining against your magic shackles. But Gale’s mage hands were holding you firmly in place, resulting in you just squishing your breasts against the table harder and feeling how they and their hardened peaks were smushed against the hard surface, making you moan harder.

Gale kept giving your wet core and clit attention, finally pushing the soaked lacey piece of fabric that was in his way to the side and letting his tongue work on you – sinking it into you, then letting it circle around the sensitive bud down there.

The man was definitely as good with his tongue as you had hoped for – better even. Turns out the tongue wasn’t only good for spells, incantations or scolding naughty students (although that was probably his specialty).

He kept going, turning your whole being into a whimpering, shivering mess with how the tip of his tongue flicked over your clit and his hands squeezed your ass forcefully.

Desperate for his caress, you arched your back as hard as you could, desperate to get even more friction out of this. When you pushed your hips back even further when you were already close to an orgasm, Gale withdrew from you, leaving you to feel suddenly empty and cold.

You whimpered at the loss but didn’t trust your mind enough to form coherent sentences to make a sassy remark at him. You tried to turn around more to look at Gale and suddenly felt that the mage hands holding your arms behind your back had disappeared. In the same moment you heard how the wizard was undoing his slacks. Your eyes widened.

Now being allowed to do so you turned to watch as Gale let his erection spring free out of his pants. Your lips parted at the sight while Gale watched your reaction intently with a subtle hint of a smile on his face. You might be dripping wet for the wizard, but the wizard was hard as granite for you.

He stroked himself a few times and moaned while you kept staring at his hardness and felt the urge to feel him, all of him, become almost unbearable. Gale watched you, observed the carnal need in your eyes.

“You want me to-“ “Just fuck me already, Gale Dekarios of Waterdeep!“

This time the man needn’t to be told twice. He closed the distance between you. All his magic little helpers had disappeared. Now it was only him when he pressed his body against you again. His hard length fitting and pressing nicely between your buttcheeks.

He moved it down to let it slip along your wet core. The sensation of feeling his cock rub against you already almost making you insane. His hands grabbed hold of your hips as you pushed yourself up against the desk as you braced yourself for what was about to come.

Gale kept toying with you a little more before he entered you with a single movement – thrusting hard. You moaned loudly and let your head fall down. The first movement had already made the table shudder. You desperately tried to get accustomed to the feeling of finally being filled to the brim by this wizard.

“Gods, I want to fuck you until everything on this desk is knocked over”, Gale groaned and you could actually feel him twitch inside you as he promised you that.

“Better get to work then, Professor Dekarios”, you gave back with a breathy moan and squeezed your muscles around him. That earned you a deep growl and another hard thrust – oh.

“You enjoy it, when I call you that?”, you teased and squeezed around Gale’s cock again. Another growl, but not as feral as the one before.

“Fuck me then, Professor Dekarios, right on your desk”, you tried and almost regretted it when the wizard started to actually savagely pound into you – there were no pauses in between it anymore. He thrust into you slowly but forcefully, setting a steady rhythm. Every thrust taking you by surprise, unable to getting used to this sensation of being fucked by your professor.

You felt him hit pleasantly deep inside of you and thoughts in your head weren’t coherent anymore as you simply felt yourself give in completely to your lust and this man.

You felt the tingle of magic again right then and there, between your legs, starting to rub on your clit while the wizard kept thrusting into you - hard. So hard that he was about to keep his promise – books and papers fell over and then off with each of his movements that brought your bodies together. Until… out of the corner of your eye you saw a few papers making their way off the table. They looked awfully familiar.

“Wait, is that my exposé? And annotated? So, you did read it!”, you exclaimed with sudden reestablished coherent thinking. No matter the state of heedless need and pleasure you were in – you couldn’t let this go uncommented.

“Of course - I did - it was brilliant!”, Gale answered breathlessly in between his movements, not letting up on his thrusts. You squealed happily.

But then the mage hand between your legs, pleasuring your clit, suddenly pinched it, making you squeal again – but this time in pleasure and pain.

“We can talk about this later!”, Gale said with his scholarly voice again. And you were drawn back into how he was fucking you on his desk. Although you highly doubted you would be talking about anything soon.

He kept going while the mage hand at your sensitive core was almost driving you mad. The mixture of its teasing and the friction created by Gale thrusting into you had you almost at the edge.

But Gale groaned in frustration and dragged you up from the table. “This won’t do”, he commented, then turned you around and pushed you down again. “I need to see your face when I make you come for me”, he explained his reasoning.

So now you were laying on the wooden desk, your naked butt rubbing over the polished wood, supporting yourself on your elbows as Gale moved in and dragged your legs around his hips to enter you again. But before he did, he bowed down to tear open your already very revealing blouse. You gasped, as buttons jumped off it as you felt the burn of his violent tearing. Who would’ve thought the scholar was so ready to take what he wanted?

Thankfully you had been wearing nothing else underneath, so the wizard was immediately greeted with your naked breasts springing free from your top.

He stared at them dumbfoundedly while their peaks hardened in the sudden rush of cold air. You licked your lips and arched your back again to make them look as perky as possible.

When Gale kept staring in awe, you angled your head, cocked an eyebrow and let one hand wander across them – from one hardened bud to the other - and with that motion softly squeezing and dragging them.

“I kept thinking about these since you put them so exquisitely on display that night at the party”, Gale whispered. “So good to see them finally in the flesh”, he continued and licked his lips. His eyes flicked to yours – was he seeking approval for his stupid joke? This man could really swing between effortlessly and mind-blowingly sexy to absolute dork within in a single moment.

You wrapped your legs around his hips to get his dick back pressing against you. “Will you finally finish what you started? This is taking longer than waiting for you to get done grading a paper”, you scoffed and quickly moved up to give his hardness a single firm stroke.

That made the wizard’s head lull back and groan once more. Then he was immediately onto you again, entering you and bottoming out in a single movement. His hands moved to your hips again to give himself more resistance for his thrusts as he started moving again. And this time with an absolute urgency.

He stared at you, eyes flicking from yours to your jigging boobs then to where he could see himself sliding in and out of you. One of his hands wandered down between where your bodies were joined and this time his real fingers were working your clit.

And between his skilled fingers, his powerful thrusts and the way he stared at you as if he actually wanted to devour you, you felt the cliff coming. And you knew that for him it was coming into view as well as his movements became more and more ragged.

“Please”, you begged him simply – not being able to utter anything else.

Some more powerful thrusts and flicks of his thumb while you clenched around him pushed you off then, making you fall, see stars. It was as if you had entered the weave itself.

You moaned his name desperately as he made you come violently. You clawed and grabbed for his arms, desperate to hold onto him while you lost yourself.

You squeezed your legs around him as you arched your back impossibly far with the pleasure spikes ebbing and flowing through your body and your whole soul.

And Gale followed you within only a few more movements, groaning and tensing as you felt him twitch inside you and his hands clawed into the flesh of your hips. He moaned your name as well, as if it were a plea, while he came inside of you.

“Ah Gods above”, he moaned before he collapsed onto you after that.

The two of you were a tangled, sweaty mess. Breathing heavily, none of you trusted their skills to form complete sentences yet again after this.

With a groan you wrapped your arms around Gale’s upper body, touching his hair, moving a strand of it behind his ear before you leaned back. All tension had left your body for the time being and you desperately felt like you needed to lie down now somehow, actually lie down.

Out of all the scenarios you had come up with as possible outcomes to this, this was definitely the most satisfying one. And the fact that Gale had casually admitted that he thought your exposé brilliant was adding to the happy, fuzzy feeling you felt spreading through you now.

Gale’s eyes meanwhile had widened at your soft gesture and caress and he kept staring at you in wonder and admiration. Then he suddenly moved up and kissed you: with open lips, but gentle, almost too tender after what the two of you had just done. The scruff of his beard tickled a bit on your face and made you scrunch your nose a little.

When he withdrew slowly your expression mirrored his from just before.

“What was that for?”, you asked softly.

“I just realised I hadn’t kissed you through all of this and this was a fact I couldn’t quite live with”, the wizard answered. Ah well, he seemingly was already back to his blabbering eloquent self. This stupid idiot – you were down bad for him even worse now.

You suddenly felt a giggle rise up in you and your cheeks warm. So you grabbed the wizard’s face and kissed him again. Longer now, a bit more passionately – and in a way that already made you yearn to have him again.

“So, do you want to talk about your exposé now, or…?”

“Gale, can we discuss this later?”

The wizard gave you a huge smile when he heard you call him by only his first name again.

“Alright, let’s schedule another meeting for that then.”

#gale of waterdeep #gale dekarios #bg3 gale #bg3 #bg3 spoilers #gale x tav #gale x reader #gale x you #professor gale #professor dekarios #baldurs gate 3 #baldur's gate 3 #astarion #fanfiction #baldur's gate iii #kinktober #fanfic #gale #poro fics

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mostly-marvel-musings · 1 year ago

Text

Birthday Boy

A/N: A little something for our favorite birthday boy. Written for @fandom-free-bingo Happy birthday Tony Stark! Leave a heart, comment or reblog if you enjoyed the story.

Pairing: Tony Stark x Avenger! F! Reader (our reader has Falcon-like abilities and Red Wing as well)

Warnings: 18+ smut, fluff.

Word count: 2675

Square filled: “You’re coming with me.”

Fandom Free Bingo Masterlist

“You’ve got one on your left, Y/L/N. He’s armed. And does nine o’clock work for you?”

Rolling your eyes, you ignored the last bit of Tony’s sentence and jumped into action. Disarming the Hydra soldier wasn’t a big deal for you, what was distracting was the constant commentary coming in from the snarky billionaire who was hard to push off.

It was his birthday and you were one of his closest friends, all he wanted to do was go out, party and spend time with you - meaning he wanted you to potentially hook him up with someone while he did the same for you. And then the two of you would bitch about your respective dates over breakfast the next day, laugh and get over it, like you always did.

But this time around it was different. You were finding it harder and harder to keep your feelings for the man at bay. You couldn’t remember when it all actually went from friendship to something more, maybe it was around your fifth bad date when you felt super down in the dumps, Tony had been the best listener, he always was, he just never got enough credit for it. You spoke all night, he wiped your tears and made you feel better about yourself. You felt truly seen and heard. That was when you realized what lacked in all the other boys that you had found in Tony, someone you wanted the most and someone you probably could never have.

Which is why you were avoiding spending another drunken evening with the man, you would probably end up spilling your guts and if he didn’t feel the same way, you’d be left heartbroken and you would lose a really good friend.

“Good job, Y/N. You’re a solid addition to the team, unlike Legolas over here with his carpal tunnel syndrome.”

You chuckled as you heard Clint swearing at Tony over the comms, shaking you head, you continued your way into the building to extract information. Once you were done, you stepped out and made your way over to the jet where you were met with an impatient looking Tony.

“What?”

“You haven’t answered my question. Tomorrow, you and me, out on the town? It’s my birthday in case you forgot.” his big brown eyes implored you for an answer, standing in your way until you did. Sometimes you hated how persistent he could be, and more than that the fact that you fell for those gorgeous eyes every single time.

“Well?”

“Ugh. Fine! I’ll go. But you’re paying. And you will drop me home in case I get shitfaced.” you sighed, pushing him away and towards the bathroom to change.

Now you were kind of dreading tomorrow as much as you were looking forward to celebrating with your friend.

“How about fishnet stockings over there? She’s got a rack that would get you googly-eyed.” you tried to avoid the disdain in your voice as you nodded at the blonde who sat at the far end of the bar.

Tony was sucking on a wedge of lemon post the shots you two had downed before he turned his gaze in the direction you were pointing at. He hummed in appreciation but did nothing about it, simply went on ordering you some more drinks.

“What?” you frowned, secretly hoping he wouldn’t approach the woman because it would break your heart but Tony wasn’t one to shy away from a challenge. Especially when it came to women. He just loved showing off how much he ‘didn’t have to try’.

Tony shrugged, not answering you right away, instead he pushed a drink towards you, his knee nudging yours now that he had slid closer. The familiar smell of his cologne mixed with motor oil and coffee filled your nostrils, making you wish just for once you could snuggle closer to him and just revel in his scent. Pushing your luck a little, you laid your arm across his shoulder and angled your body towards him, to your surprise he pulled you closer and kissed your temple, making your little heart flutter hopelessly.

“Careful Stark, the ladies are gonna think we’re together and you might end up having an off night.” you teased.

“Tony Stark never has an off night, sweetheart. Never.” his breath fanned your cheek as he spoke, raising an eyebrow up at you just to make sure you understood his point. A tingle went down your spine as his fingers caressed the back of your neck, lightly grazing your skin.

This wasn’t good. No. Not since your feelings were on overdrive.

“Then why aren’t you going over to Fishnets? Come on, I’m sure she’ll be more than happy to warm your bed.”

Tony made a face at your words, one that had you frowning because it was unusual. He never answered though.

“What about you, Y/L/N? No guy worthy enough for your attention here? I thought one of those suited up, boring businessmen would be up your alley. What do you think?”

You looked over to where Tony was pointing, the guys were certainly handsome and by the looks of it seemed quite well to do. Maybe you could go up to them, strike up a conversation and eventually go home with one, in hopes of forgetting about your crush. Yeah, you certainly needed to get laid, it had been a while.

“Alright then. I will if you will.” you finished your drink and slammed it a little hard on the table than you normally would.

“What?” Tony frowned.

“You and Fishnets. Me and Mr. Suity-man over there. We’ll see which one of us hits the jackpot.” you winked, steadying yourself before giving Tony a little shove. It was a distraction you needed. Maybe watching Tony work his charm on another woman would work in helping you get over him finally.

Tony felt his blood boil at the sight of the fancy-ass suited guy wrap an arm around your waist while you giggled. The woman next to him was practically throwing herself at him, not the least bit interesting when it came to conversations and was pretty much laughing at everything he said, even if it wasn’t funny. Normally he would have her back at the penthouse already, be done with before heading down to his lab and have her sent off before he had his first cup of coffee in the morning. But it was different, he had no intentions of sleeping with that woman. Or any other woman that wasn’t Y/N.

These days, he only had eyes for her. Y/N made him feel things he didn’t think he was capable of feeling. Being with her made him feel like he was worth something, like he was finally being seen for who he really was. Her laugh made his heavy heart a little lighter, her presence felt like warm sunshine on a cold day.

And now he felt like he was blowing his chance with you by agreeing to this stupid bet. Catching her eye, he raised his eyebrows to ask how it was going, chuckling to himself when she made a disgusted face. That sent relief flooding through his system for some reason, at least she wasn’t going home with that stupid, tall guy.

A few moments later you both caught up at the bar for more drinks, letting out collective defeated sighs and shaking your heads.

“This pub is dull. I’m going home alone, aren’t I?” you huffed, feeling dejected and placing your head against your hand as you looked at the woman Tony was supposed to talk to, she had a sour expression on her face before she stormed off to where your potential date was. Maybe they would hit it off, you thought with a laugh.

“You and I both, Y/L/N. So? What was wrong with him?” Tony mirrored your position, eyes curious.

“Ugh. The guy wouldn’t stop yapping about football, he hates all animals and he thinks you’re just a big show-off.” You rolled your eyes, downing a glass of water in between to keep yourself hydrated.

“I mean, he’s not completely wrong,Y/N.” Tony shrugged. It wouldn’t be the first time someone’s called him that, hell, he had been called worse.

“Shut up. He couldn’t be more wrong.”

Something about your tone amused him though, the way you got so defensive about him kinda made him feel proud. And intrigued him to know more.

“I mean he had the balls to say you are a pompous, arrogant jerk who does things for nobody but yourself.” You scoffed.

“It’s not like he’s ever spent months in some cave in Afghanistan and escaped, turned his whole business around and bloody well succeeded, invented a frickin 'element, saved I don’t know thousands of lives? Formed the avengers? Been the most generous man I’ve ever come across and—”

Your sentence was cut short as Tony’s lips cut you off abruptly. Was it really happening? Utterly shocked at first, you didn’t respond for a few seconds which made him stop.

“Is that why you rejected him?” He murmured, now cupping your face tenderly with his hands.

“That and the fact that he wasn’t you.” You answered honestly, your heart thudding beyond control at this point as blood rushed to your ears and cheeks, turning them warm.

“You’re the only one I want too, Y/N. Always have.”

His confession turned your insides into mush, a grin forming on your face that you couldn’t control. It was just a little hard to believe that the man you wanted also wanted you in return. The kind of stuff only dreams and romantic novels are made of.

“You’re coming with me.”

Grabbing your hand Tony guided you out of the pub. And of all the people you could go home with, you were finally going with the one person you wanted the most.

There was a flurry of activity once you were back at Tony’s penthouse. Clothes strewn about, giggles echoing in the empty hallway along with fervent kisses.

Once you were down to your underwear, Tony stepped back to admire your body, his gaze darkening as he saw the lacy, red lingerie you wore. It was a happy coincidence but for him, it was enough to want you in every way.

“Is this my birthday present?” He pulled you flush against his chest, turning you around so your ass grazed against his growing erection. Lips pressed against your warm skin, his hands slid lower and lower until he cupped your clothed sex to find it damp with desire.

“Maybe this is? Hmm?” His breath was hot against your ear, fingers teasing your folds over your panties before sliding them aside to feel you.

Gently tugging on his hair, you turned around in his arms and pushed him on his back until he flopped on the bed, smirking up at you as you straddled his legs.

“Eager much?”

“Very much.”

Placing a hand on his chest, you lowered yourself on top and kissed him, smiling into it when it responded with equal if not more enthusiasm. Your tongue slipped past his mouth, earning a needy grunt from the man as you moved your hips deliberately over his, teasing his clothed cock as it eagerly twitched underneath you.

“How come it took you so long to kiss me, Stark?” your tone was light but accusatory as you nipped at his ear. The way he was kissing you first made you realize you weren’t the only one longing for this to happen.

“How come it took you so long to act upon your feelings, Y/L/N?” he inquired instead, holding your hips and sitting up with you, caressing your sides gently with a faint smile playing on his lips.

You knew he’d ask you this question, you took a deep breath and decided on going with honesty, he deserved to know the truth if this was ever going to work out. Whatever ‘this’ was.

“I didn’t know if you felt the same way, Tony. I was afraid of losing you. You’re a royal pain in my ass but you’re my friend, Anthony Stark. So whatever we’re doing here, or about to do, I don’t want it to affect our friendship, okay? I’m completely fine with the whole friends with benefits situation–”

Yet again, your little ramble was cut off by Tony’s soft lips, kissing your insecurities away delicately, allowing your heart to flutter a little.

“That’s the thing, Y/N. I don’t want to be your friend anymore–, you felt like your stomach dropped, for a second you couldn’t believe what was going on before he continued, “I want to be your boyfriend, the best and only one you’ll have. You’re my ray of sunshine and I want you all to myself. That is if you’ll have me.” he blinked up at you in all sincerity, fingers fidgeting against your skin nervously as he waited.

His confession sent a thousand butterflies fluttering in your belly.

“You need to stop cutting me off like that, Stark.” you murmured with a smile as you tugged on his hair, inching your face closer to him.

“Or what?”

You hummed, pushing him back down once more and letting your hair drape around his face as you slid a hand down his torso, down past his boxers to find his length eager for you. Your touch elicited a needy moan from the man as your fingers gripped him, giving him slow, lazy strokes.

“You’re bossy, I like it.” his mouth fell open at your ministrations, his breath coming in shallow.

You didn’t take long to undress then, kissing along his chest which was littered with scars the closer look you had. Tony hadn’t felt so vulnerable and yet safe at the same time, then again he’d never been with you.

You lined yourself up against him, watching him as you sank down on his cock, letting out a content sigh as he stretched you out completely. Slow at first, you began rolling your hips against him, feeling every last inch of him as you continued to kiss, swallowing his grunts.

“You feel so good, Y/N.” Tony sighed, digging his fingers into your hips, thrusting up into you for more.

“So do you, Tony. Fuck me, please.” your needy whisper was all he needed to flip you over so you were under him, still connected. Once he had your arms pinned above your head, he didn’t stop, didn’t stop until you were a writhing mess, crying out his name as he impaled you with his cock. His brutal pace had you clenching around him in desperation, wanting release as you clung to him.

“Come for me, Y/N. Let me hear you.”

Tony’s words undid you, making your pussy spasm around his length as you gushed, his name falling from your lips like a prayer. You were in a haze as his end approached, pulling out in time to come all over your thighs, spurts of his cum painting your skin white as he groaned in pleasure.

“I think that was the best sex I’ve ever had.” he panted, helping you clean up before cuddling you close, frowning when all you did was hum.

“I’ve had better.” you teased, his reactions always made the joke worth it. He tickled you until you begged for mercy, out of breath as you laughed with the man, feeling a sense of contentment being with him like this. His relaxed features and demeanor suggested he felt the same.

“Oh! I completely forgot!”

“What?”

“Happy birthday, Tony.”

💛Happy Birthday to our favourite ray of sunshine, Anthony Edward Stark💛

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