#scotty x black!fem!reader

[inmyheadimobsessed]

Ruin the Friendship

pairing: scotty ✘ black!fem!reader

summary: it's raining, the power's out and you're alone with your brother's best friend, the girl you've been pining after for years. there must be a way for the two of you to pass the time, right?

word count: long <3

contains: smut (18+), oral (scotty being a munch), fingering (reader receiving), strap!scotty, desperate!scotty, extremely softtop!scotty, needy!reader, bottom!reader, tribbing, lovesick!reader (like BAD), a little angsty (reader is a dramatic crybaby who's in love, leave her alone), scotty is still her cute little shy self, but because she knows reader, she's a lil more open, drunken confessions, passionate sex, biting, lots of crying, praise, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, fluff at the end (they're just soo in love)

tags: @verachii @zayswriting @quintessencewrites @rxcently @widowmakker @blackgcomica @n7cje @dejaonline @shinsousliya @generallysapphic @mbakuetshurisprincess @pinkwright @saintwrld @axailslink @mocha-aya @uhwhatsay @6-noir @cuddl3s4shur1 @percsane @chidinma @shuriszn @lppriceisright @sweetalittleselfish-honey @abenomeiiii @marsolgy @prettymrswright @shurisjournal @marsolgy @shurismainbxtch @shurisbbymama @bestfriend491 @shuriri4life @bubshri @cafehyunji @vixentheplanet @ventingfanfics @yunhofingers @yamsthoughts @iseebeautyinwords @ihearttish @vampzxi

divider by: @firefly-graphics

note: back writing for the love of my life again, now y'all can stop YELLING at me! this fic kinda beat my ass a lil bit, but we did it joe! but honestly idk how the idea of scotty fucking on her best friend's sister turned into this, it was post to be funny and fluffy and cute (which it still kinda is) but THIS that i'm posting was not in anyway similar to the original plot of the movie. like i was writing and then i got done, looked back at my outline, and was like ooh baby this ain't the script. i was depressed as hell writing this too, so sowwy of it seeped through LOL! i do love this version of scotty though, she's just so ugh. anywho, hope y'all still enjoy. mwah mwahh!!

Falling for Scotty was instinctive, as effortless as an inhale — your feelings for her etched into your bones. And with those etchings traveled a wanting ache that created a home within your marrow, tunneling deep, and hollowing you out until the sensation was all you knew.

You welcomed it though, this incessant throb, for it was the only proof of your capability to love in this capacity: deeply, entirely, unequivocally. It wasn't easy, breathing without knowing her touch, but options outside of this did not exist for you, so you were forced to yearn from a distance, as you did now.

Your hurt lived at its peak at this moment, tugging on your sore heartstrings as you watched her cut your grass with a sigh brined in want. Scotty bathed beneath the drizzle of her sweat before you, dark skin glistening under each droplet while the sun accentuated her shine.

Those fingers, they belonged to a worker. Their tight squeeze on the lawn mower left you breathless as you envisioned their tips pressing deep into your throat, departing your flesh only after the creation of pretty bruises.

When the back of her hand met her damp forehead, you gasped in anticipation, a sharp gust of air nicking your throat on its way down. You waited, gnawing on your lip anxiously, gloved hands clamping down on the soapy plate in your hold — she was going to do it soon.

You were practically drooling, eyes protruding as you scanned her perspiring body hungrily. And then… there it was. Scotty's halt stopped your heart, and the plate you previously held plunged directly into a sudsy bath.

She removed her digits from the lawnmower, and her hand traveled down. Down to the hem of her soaked tank top, and she hoisted it up. Up to her face for assistance in drying her sweat beads. The material rose just enough for you to spot the edge of her equally damp sports bra clinging to her sticky skin, and she blessed your vision with those perfect flexing abs of hers.

A singular line of sweat rolled its way down the center of her toned stomach and your entranced irises stalked it, following the trickle’s descent to the waistband of her shorts until the droplet was absorbed by the material. “Fuck…”

You bit your lip with a smirk, squeezing your thighs together. Her fists clenched the handle again, and she fell back into her practiced pushing, eyebrows knitting against the slight resistance. If the window were open, her gravelly grunts would bless your eardrums with their strain, and your mind would construct the picture of her floating above you, making those same tired sounds as she rocked–

“Why do you just have the tap running?” That stupid voice. Your brother's voice. It snuck up on you, and it restarted your still heart, serving as nothing more than an aggravating prompt as to why Scotty wasn't yours.

You rolled your eyes, tightening your grip on that restraint trying desperately to escape your claws. “Maybe don't worry about what I’m doing.”

“When I pay the water bill, I make it my business to know how it's being used. Or in this case, how it's being wasted.”

Your groan was unavoidable, it always was when your brother chose to invade your bubble. Reluctantly, you peeled longing eyes away from Scotty, returning your focus to the dishes floating in the sink with a grumble. “You're so fucking lame.”

“Yeah, I'm lame.” You tossed a glance back at him, noting the way he buried his huge block head inside the fridge, and you took this as an opportunity to ogle your sweat-drenched love once more. You pushed onto your toes, hopelessly trailing Scotty's strides in the grass, clinging to the grace in which she moved as your stomach welcomed that familiar tightness.

The last dish was on the rack now, and you switched off the streams just as your brother emerged from the fridge with two chilled water bottles. He pushed past you, bumping your shoulder on purpose as he trotted to the back door, and soon the sounds of a growling mower filled the house. “Yo! Scotts, take a break, yeah?”

You watched her in the window again, her eyes finding yours through the glass. A fire flickered alive inside your body when she glanced up at you, and Scotty let a small smile crack across those lips you’d felt only in dreams. Your inhale surfaced low in volume, but its choice to harmonize with your sprinting heart’s prayer for reprieve deafened you still.

She was on the patio now, chatting mindlessly with your brother, and slowly, you allowed the prattle of her distant voice to draw you in, engraved bones piloting each of your strides to the living room as your tired heart complied.

“So, you coming by next Saturday?” You planted yourself by the couch, out of your brother’s view, but squarely in Scotty's. Bare thighs bewitched her, and automatically, those frantic eyes of hers swept the expanse of them, widening the longer she scanned them over in your shorts. Scotty let her inspecting linger, permitting her shameless gaze to climb your uncovered stomach, the poke of your boobs beneath your bralette, and finally, she let her eyes latch onto your expecting brown ones.

You blushed under her heated watch, and she did the same beneath yours. She wrestled with a demanding smirk and lost, but her attempt to conceal it remained adorable. Your Scotty was a story, seared into your skull, recitable on command, and if she knew your skill when reading her, she'd see her endeavor as what it was; one of no use.

Your brother tapped her shoulder, pulling her attention from you to him just after he peered back at you with a head shake. “Scotts, did you hear me?”

“Sorry, what?” She blinked, floundering in the shame of being caught, and you giggled from where you stood. You resided in her head, as she lived in yours.

This notion stirred a strength inside you, a sense of supremacy awakened only when you were reminded you weren't alone in your fancy, and it subsided some of that ache for a brief while.

“I said, are you coming by next Saturday? Mum’s out of town so I'm having people over, real lowkey. You gotta come mate, it's always so hard to get you out of the house.”

Thieving were your brother’s words, robbing you of Scotty's attention and you huffed in annoyance. Basking below her inspection filled your desperate body with a warmth; her stare was the kind to sizzle your skin, and you loathed the absence of the feeling.

Her head craned backward as she pushed the neck of her sweating water bottle to her awaiting lips, throat bobbing with each eager swallow of the cool liquid. You watched small streams spill from her lips, and roll down her neck, tangling with her existing speckles of perspiration. She was messy with each gulp, and a wet mouth suited her. “Uh, I’m not sure.”

Fuck, that voice again, you moaned at its vibration, and the not-so-subtle whimper perked both sets of ears on the patio. Your brother’s scrutiny heated your already burning skin, but you ignored its blaze, just as you disregarded your body’s demand that you run. You couldn't, you needed to witness the way her lips quirked ever so slightly when she heard the sound, your sound.

“Why are we even best friends, Scotts? I always gotta force you to come out.” Your brother whined, making her chuckle. God that laugh of hers; timid; deliberate, and it tugged you forward into its infectious reverb. Scotty owned you in this way, her laugh owned you, her nervous smile as you inched closer. Sore muscles propelled you toward her, and they were met with zero resistance — proximity to Scotty held all the power to dull your ache.

Fingers circled the doorknob as you hooked your chin around the open door, and you smiled up at the shy girl before you. “I’ll be here on Saturday Viv, you'll come to see me, right?”

“Uh…” Rendering her speechless, an action that bustled your pride. Her anxious fidget was one of the many things you loved about her, that, and the way she struggled pitifully when attempting to hide just how flustered your existence made her.

Your brother groaned, “You’ll be in your room. I don't want you anywhere near my friends.”

“Your friends are all a bunch of dickheads, just like you,” You smirked, and Scotty tripped into it against her will, steadying herself bashfully at the last second. “Well, except for you, Viv. You couldn't be a dickhead if you tried.”

“She's not fucking interested. And you look desperate.”

You stepped onto the patio then, smacking his head, and he winced dramatically. A sweet sound, though it wasn't comparable to the one you sought; Scotty’s laugh. When she offered it up it melted your mind; you’d be a puddle soon, legs and body dissolving before those swirling irises you loved dearly. “So glad the asshole gene ended with you.”

Scotty giggled again, waking the butterflies batting violently in your depths. “I’ll see you Saturday, Viv?”

“S-See you S-Saturday.”

•••

The ends of your wild braids veiled your bare chest, fingers dancing slowly down to where you needed them most as you tugged your nipple roughly. When those spit-soaked lips of yours separated, one name existed on your tongue, and it clamored from your pits the second shaking digits connected with your sensitive clit. “Scotty…”

A forever-clogged head generated only conjurings of her, your fantasies being the one place you were allowed to have her, and you never shied from indulging. Slow strokes teased that feeling forward, and your pedicured toes curled the higher her face in your mind's eye made you soar. Her name was enclosed in each exhale, intricately wrapped in your lusty desires with their inevitable unraveling being enough to tip you over.

“Oh, Scotty…” You let the sound of your slickness entrance you, brain traveling to her reaction if she were here to see you, feel you, taste–

A series of knocks on your bedroom door ripped you from deep within your Scotty-riddled thoughts, and you groaned, rolling over in your pillow to muffle an irritated scream. “Fuck off!”

“Scotty’s coming over to fix the drip in the bathroom sink. Let her in, and don't be a fucking weirdo, I'm going out.”

Your brother’s words possessed the strength to spring your body upright in your sheets, and you grinned, welcoming that throb you were on a mission to subdue just seconds ago, that throb that breathed and intensified from the mere mention of her name.

You tugged your T-shirt back on, slid your underwear up, and sighed at the feel of your slick gluing the thin material to your folds.

Rarely did the opportunity of being alone with Scotty arise, she was your brother’s friend, and she ventured around only to hang out with him, emphasizing your position in her life. Scotty liked you, a fact clear as day, but the restraint housed within her body remained one that forever combated your own, and it was for this reason that you forced yourself to become comfortable with the scope of separation between you both. But, she was on her way over, and it’d just be the two of you now.

Possibility floated in the atmosphere as you mulled this thought over, and your excitement constricted your chest, tightening those exhausted little heartstrings of yours.

An unsteady step abetted your climb from your bed and you exhaled once on your feet; your climax evaded your grasp, but the prospect of spending time with your forbidden love held the power to wobble you still.

The shirt draping your frame left nothing up to the imagination, exposing your curves, the nudge of your sore nipples, and your damp panty-clad cunt remained visible as you studied yourself in the mirror. Your attire screamed “She was just in the middle of getting off,” and you contemplated changing into something more… appropriate.

But the resounding clang of the doorbell blared throughout the house, jarring you, and you toppled, your half-naked body tripping over scattered shoes and dirty laundry begging to be washed on the floor. It rang again, and you stumbled back on your feet, flying out your bedroom door and down the steps at the speed of lightning. There was something to be said about the pathetic nature in which you staggered to the front door. You were a fawn, learning to stable oneself for the first time, lacking grace, lacking finesse as you launched yourself forward for the doorknob.

Did you care? Certainly not, not with Scotty awaiting your greeting on the other side of the barrier keeping you two apart.

Breathless as you were, you opened the door just as her finger poked the button again, and the pair of you giggled shyly, noting the other's blush. You could never tire of her laugh, and its coyness. It coaxed her blinding smile into the open, and once it beamed out, clouding it became a difficult task for Scotty.

“H-Hey Viv…” You huffed, scanning her appearance with a gulp.

Her blushing never faltered, mouth gaping before she decided to suck in her bottom lip at the sight of you in just a shirt. She dipped her head, sheepish in her attempt to shelter her nerves, but her sweet stutter betrayed her the moment she opened that pretty mouth, “Um, uh, h-hi. I c-came for the um, the…”

“The sink.” You finished for her, and she nodded with a small chuckle.

“Uh, yeah. The sink.” You stepped aside and Scotty trudged into the house, toolbox locked in those strong fingers as she wiped her work boots on the mat rather awkwardly. She watched you all the while, eyes trained on your thighs as you smirked up at her, absorbing the rays of her immersion. Scotty attempted subtlety when your brother was around, but she took advantage of his absence now as she ogled your tight nipples poking up in your shirt.

You ran your fingers through your braids, shaking them slightly to make your tits jump before her eyes, and when she exhaled wearily, you allowed your throat to vacuum her air, breathing in its warmth with a quiet moan.

And you smiled then, feeling that comfortable throb weaken just from the nearness of your bodies.

Scotty was right there, right in front of you, and it would be nothing to reach out and touch. God, you wanted to reach out and touch, but just as you leaned in a little, she jerked, turning frantically and heading to the stairs. “It shouldn't um, take me too long. It's just a drip r-right?”

“J-Just a drip…” Though, the leaking at your core exceeded that.

You climbed the stairs behind her, pulling on the hem of your top anxiously with each step as you followed her knowing strides to your bathroom. Scotty's shoulders flexed under her black and yellow patterned shirt, and your treacherous mind concocted images of crimson claws dragging along her back, feeling those blades tighten and loosen with steady thrusts, if you were blessed with the opportunity to lay beneath her as she had her way with you, that was.

“Can you um, I have to look under the sink. Just uh, tell me if the drip is still going when I ask, yeah?” She flicked on the light, placing her toolbox down on the mat and you nodded slowly. There laid command in her request — innocent in her mind — but far from in yours.

You hoisted yourself onto the counter, naked thighs spilling out from under your T-shirt. Its lack of length once again became her fixation, and you watched the flash of realization storm Scotty's electric eyes; she would have to kneel before you to get under the sink. You smirked, concluding this at the same time she did, and slowly, she stooped in hesitation, sinking to the floor to open the cabinet. Her eyes refused to leave your seductive ones, and a devious plan slithered its way into your mind like a serpent.

Once Scotty was on her knees, she wavered, chewing her lip nervously, still watching you, and you allowed your parting thighs to rocket her heart.

There was a squish, because you were fucking drenched, and Scotty's eyes followed the sound her ears alerted her of, landing right on your damp core. She whimpered in the back of her throat, permitting the sight to captivate her fully, and she frowned. She found your eyes again, pleading wordlessly for you to shut your legs, to allow her to do what she came to, but you were not in the business of being gracious. You wanted her too much — the beating in your chest and the beating at your core driving your choice.

“J-Just, uh, let me know about the drip.” She pointed weakly to the faucet, capturing one last glance at your red panties before vanishing under the sink.

She fumbled with the valves, “Did it stop?”

“Nope.” Your legs were swinging, blood rushing at the sight of her exposed middle, her stomach contracting as she worked.

“Now? Is it still leaking?” You glanced at the faucet, clapping your hands when you noticed the drip had disappeared, only to realize the one at your center was gaining stream.

You giggled, “Something's leaking.”

Scotty sighed, seemingly frustrated and you pouted, “But is the faucet still leaking? That's what I’m asking.”

“No.”

She muttered something, but it went unheard because her abs were out of hiding fully now, and you were a drooling mess at the image of her splayed on your bathroom floor. “How long have we known each other, Viv?”

Scotty hummed, unmoving under your cabinet. Something told you she remained under there on purpose. “All our lives.”

“And would you believe me if I said I've had a crush on you this entire time?” Your question startled you, and you blinked at your sudden spurt of confidence, gripping the countertop firmly to avoid fainting.

There was a thud, and a small groan, one that shouldn't have excited you because it was obvious the sound derived from pain, but any sort of moan evading Scotty's lips would push thrill through your body. “No.”

She stood, rubbing the side of her forehead with that same groan again, and you tilted your head. “You wouldn't believe that I have a crush on you?”

Her eyes brimmed with a speckle akin to want — hope; Scotty hoped sincerity guided your words. They dazzled, irises swimming in a chocolate sea as you studied her reluctance. Her pretty lips hung downward as you let your full ones fall also, the sight fracturing your heart just a little, her resistance in belief. “You wouldn't believe me, Viv?”

“The drip is on the hot water side. I n-need you to get down so I can take the f-faucet apart.”

Words that broke your heart entirely, because she was shaking, and she refused to answer your question. “I do, have a crush on you, Vivienne.”

A crush. An insignificant word, and a diluted confession, you thought. Describing what you felt for Scotty as a crush seemed so trivial. You loved her, you were in love with her, and you wanted her to love you. But if your admission of a crush unnerved her this much, you were terrified to find out what a declaration of love would do to the poor girl.

“Uh, c-can you let me get to the faucet? Please?”

Earnesty eluded Scotty now, the averting of your spiky stare told you that. She fought it, her desire to slip between your thighs and hold you close, but it would ultimately be a battle lost. “Scotts…”

“Please.”

You whimpered, “Scotty, look at me?”

Brown eyes met your wishing ones and she softened immediately, her sweaty forehead falling to yours as she snaked her arms around your waist. God, you could break. You did break, you broke the moment she did. “I-I… you…”

Her tears were light and steady, and they scorched, flowing and mixing with your own as you offered up a small whine. You cupped her wet face, and Scotty nuzzled her cheek into your delicate palm with a sigh, confirming the thing you always assumed — she was a beauty starved for touch. And now, amending this was to be your job as you gazed into her welling eyes.

It was so easy, to drown in every unspoken emotion filtering out the both of you through your sobs, and if she continued to peer at you through damp lashes, you just might let yourself sink.

Salty tears rushed your tastebuds, forcing you to swallow each drizzle as you searched for the right thing to say to calm your love. “Scotty…”

“Would y-you b-believe m-me if I said I had a c-crush on you, too?” She questioned with a sniffle, heated fingers gripping yours, and reluctantly, you let her peel your hands from her face. Your waist felt bare without her digits pressing into it, and your shattered heart knew not how to take the loss.

You laughed lightly, “Yeah?”

Scotty let the corner of her mouth quirk, and she took in your murky irises. “I shouldn't, but I do.”

“Would you like to kiss me, Scotty?”

She shut her eyes with a desperate groan, squeezing your digits so tight, your fingertips ran cold. “God… very much.”

You caressed her face intently, eyes boring into her untamed ones as you watched her brows knit in anticipation. And then you were pulling her in, feeling her hot mouth moving against your own. Your world stilled, and the remaining shards of your broken heart plummeted, leaving those butterflies of yours as the only things inside of you capable of sustaining life.

Your ache, your beautiful, throbbing, lifelong ache dwindled for a moment as Scotty's mouth meshed with yours. She kissed you fiercely, fingers grazing your throat, breathing existence back into your being, and it was then that you moaned for her.

Scotty lost it, your sound putting her on the prowl. Her incisors punctured your bottom lip and you hissed from the euphoric pain, wrapping your legs around her slim waist, fingers finding their way under her shirt with haste. When you grazed the dips of those abs you gawked on a daily, your moan bloomed louder, and Scotty pulled away.

“God. That s-sound, oh my god, s-so pretty. Please.”

You nodded, “Kiss me again.”

But Scotty shook her head, puzzling you, and when her teary eyes met yours, your ache returned — at full force — crushing every bone in your body. “We can't.”

“W-We just d-did.”

She kissed your hands, making you shudder, and she frowned. “Your brother…”

“Isn't here. It's just us, you and me Scotts. Want you to kiss me again, want you to touch me, please. Please, Scotty.”

Scotty pressed her back into the wall in front of you, eyes glazed over as you watched her breathing pick up. She once again battled with her want for you, and the only thing barring her triumph, was your stupid fucking brother.

You rolled your eyes, refusing to let it end like this, not after finally tasting her tongue outside of your imagination. “Scotty. Touch me.”

“Fuck… you can't say things like that,” She winced, as if your words inflicted pain. “Makes my mind go places it shouldn't.”

You raised your brow at this, “Where does your mind go when I give you permission to touch me?”

She didn't answer, so you reached out for her, spreading your legs wider the closer she inched, and she stared at your wet panties, pupils dilating as she whimpered. “I c-can't. I'm not supposed t-to. You're off limits t-to me.”

“But you want to, don't you? You wanna feel me, Scotty?”

She nodded, sucking in a sharp breath as she allowed you to press her palm flat against your heat. “Feel me, Scotty.”

You shoved your panties to the side, reveling in the effort it took to unstick the cloth from your pussy, and Scotty gasped.

A singular tear rolled down her cheek when presented with the cunt that wept for her touch, your clit calling her name with each jump. She stared into your wanting eyes, begging for permission and you nodded. Scotty pressed into your clit, whining softly along with your mewls, and you nestled your face into her chest to muffle them, entirely consumed by the ecstasy flooding your senses.

Scotty massaged nurturing circles into your bud, her wounded moans ringing in your ear while she twitched, absorbing the sound of your slick pussy. You hadn't even noticed you were crying again until you opened your mouth to moan, and warm droplets filled it.

You leaked onto the bathroom counter, wetness spilling with each of her delicate rubs. It wasn't long before you were quaking, thighs levitating in sync with your racing heart as you pushed your back into the mirror.

“You're s-so, fuck, I-I wanna… Can I put my f-fingers inside you? Wanna feel all of you.” You nodded, and Scotty wasted no time slipping two coated digits into your hole. God, it was way more than you saw yourself able to handle. The pleasure, the emotions; your body couldn't bear it.

Hard nipples rubbed against your shirt as you moaned for her, and she nodded toward the protrusion. “Touch them for me?”

This Scotty, and her commanding bass were a foreign pair to you. Though phrased as a question, her request was the furthest thing from, and you complied immediately, pulling your perky nipples above the material as your eyes fanned down to where Scotty worked you. “Fuck, Scotty, just like that…”

“Lift your shirt, I-I wanna s-see them please.”

The hem of your shirt came up as you hummed faintly, and your boobs were out, fingers latching on to tweak your tender nubs once more. The sound of her fucking your pussy with her fingers had you reeling, every tendon in your body tightening as they prepared to snap. You bucked into each of her skilled thrusts, whimper after whimper dropping from your parted lips as she stretched your tight cunt.

Scotty was inside of you, you were riding her worker digits as she grunted from how your walls drank her in. Fuck, was this real life? “You're so wet, god I can't take this.”

“Only f-for you, please, pleeease!” You craned your neck, connected your mouth with your nipple, swirling your tongue around its firmness, never once breaking eye contact with her and she shivered at your lewd act.

“You drive me crazy, I just, fuck… You're so beautiful.” Scotty confessed, flicking your clit with ferocity, and you cried out.

“I'm, I'm gonna come! Please, faster Scotty, I wanna come for you! Please!” You sprawled for her as you sobbed her name, showing off your flexibility and Scotty cursed under her breath. You were certain her knees would give out soon with their continued buckling as she worked your pussy; she looked closer to collapse than you.

Her pace increased, outstretching her free hand to grip your floating thigh, and she pressed a kiss to your ankle. “Can I touch them?”

You were so out of it, but you nodded, and Scotty’s palm trailed your lurching stomach on its way up to your sensitive tits. She cupped the right one, basking in its warmth as your messy pussy sucked in her knuckles, tips brushing your special spot.

“Fuck! Right there! Oh my god! Right fucking there!” You jerked, fisting her shirt to yank her in for a sloppy kiss as the showers of your climax rained down on you. You were denied the feeling earlier, but you chose to believe this was because fate wanted Scotty to bring about your bliss. It was intense as hell, a willful pour that turned your vision white, and your moan was long and broken, eyes spilling endlessly. Scotty kissed your tears away, pumping you slower now, the ghost of her warm breath doing what it could to soothe you.

“You're so pretty when you come.”

A tired little groan crept out of you; you were attempting to thank her, but those numbing lips of hers were more powerful than you'd realized as she used them to whisper into your charged skin. “Shh. It's okay. You're okay.”

She remained inside of you, absorbing your clench as she whined from the suction, that was until footsteps approached the door. “Scotts, you in there?”

Scotty plucked her fingers from your seeping cunt, leaving you empty as panic seized her. You couldn't move, so you chose to watch her frantic dance through slanted eyes while you heaved, orgasm sitting still on your chest, weighing you down. She was genuinely terrified: scrambling to get her tools, muttering under her breath, and you wanted to calm her, but you couldn't move.

“I'm sorry.” Scotty pecked your forehead, forbidding her lips’ linger, and then she slipped out the door before your brother got a chance to reach for the handle, abandoning your spent figure in a pool of your release on the counter.

•••

Rejection was not fatal, and chanting this motto should drill belief into your brain. Should. But reliance on these words provided no comfort, or aid. Instead, they epitomized the only sentiment your snapping mind seemed able to hold fast to: Scotty did not want you.

She left you behind on the drenched bathroom counter, discarded as a thing she played with before deciding you no longer were of use to her. Admitting her behavior had been cruel was not a thing you saw yourself able to do though, because you knew your Scotty, and within her dwelled not an ounce of cruelty. Inflicting pain, breaking your heart in the way she did that day was not, should not, have been in her nature.

But you experienced it, barely survived her transgression, so what were you supposed to believe? Certainly not the mantra about rejection’s inability to fatally scar, because here you lay, permeating in the blood drawn from the wounds of Scotty's misdeed, slipping out of your mind, and away from yourself with time.

Once, you had a whole heart, it took up space, its beating gave you life, breeding your ability to love, because you loved Scotty. But now, similarly to your excavated bones, there lived a hollowness in your chest. A hollowness operating as a depressing reminder that your motionless heart existed in tatters, occupying the deepest depths of your knotted stomach.

Maybe you were being dramatic, though you’d tried being hopeful, thinking she would come round the next day, desperate to apologize, desperate to hold you and call you hers. But Scotty never showed, and all sense of promise had departed by the end of the week, amidst the lonely nights spent crying yourself to sleep.

Something you were attempting to do now as you tangled your aching body in your many blankets. A satin pillow covered your face, damp with tears as you groaned aloud, irritated by the music and laughter floating up from downstairs.

Your stupid fucking brother and his stupid fucking friends. Being in distress the entire week helped you forget about the party he was throwing tonight, but you couldn't ignore it now, and the sound of their happiness made your eye twitch. How dare that drove of losers enjoy life, when you sat teetering on the brink of death? It wasn't fair, and you wanted to scream it in their faces, but another wave of sobs flooded your cheeks, and you hugged your teddy bear tighter, mind racing to her.

“Scotts! You made it mate! Didn't think you'd be coming round after you've been MIA all week. You alright?”

You were up on your feet at the mention of her presence, drying your tears and booking it down the stairs as you gave in to your body's coercion, not a damn given about your somber appearance.

There was a singular mission: Lay eyes on her. You loitered in the kitchen, aiming to appear inconspicuous as you scanned the group with impatient eyes. After minutes of not spotting her head floating in the sizable crowd, you poured a drink, stuffing the bottle under your hoodie once you were certain there were no witnesses. You shook your head at the sea of people, so much for “real lowkey,” you thought.

“Pretty sure um, your brother wouldn't be too happy if he knew you were stealing his booze.” Fuck… that voice, its tentative quiver, her endearing tone doing everything in its power to bring your skin to life.

You spun, meeting her meek gaze, the liquid sloshing in the red solo cup you strangled long forgotten as you chose to drink her in instead. Of course she looked good, because apparently being unkind to your body was now a thing she practiced. Fuck…“Luckily I don't give a damn about what makes him happy then huh?”

Scotty smiled, providing competition for the sun, and it was then that you felt it, the sharp shards of your broken organ piecing itself back together inside your sternum. Because as much as she hurt you, you loved her still, with all of the splinters composing your barely beating heart.

“You alright?”

You hummed, feigning a small smile of your own, “Yeah.”

She shook her head, unconvinced, and she stepped in closer, reaching out for you as you did for her that day in the bathroom. “Can we um, I want–”

Protectively, your body recoiled against your will, jarring Scotty and jarring yourself with the abrupt movement. This defense was your mind’s doing; your heart was barely whole again, and your brain chose to reject Scotty in hopes of keeping it so. “I–”

“Christ, leave Scotty alone. She's not interested in you like that, learn when to take a hint,” Your brother left no room for a response before he dragged Scotty off. “Sorry about her man, little sisters are the worst.”

Scotty huffed a dry laugh, peering back at you in the kitchen, pleading with her eyes, but it was a stare you shunned, once again feeling that rush of neglect, so you trudged up the stairs, and back to your room to wallow, and get drunk by yourself.

You were lowering the bottle from your lips when showers attacked your windows, and you spared a glance at the rain, chuckling to yourself with a sniffle. The skies were mocking your tears, mocking your sorrow as you sat alone on the floor. The blackness of the starless sky was barely visible, but the swift flare of lightning provided illumination, and you braced yourself then for the impending angry roar that often followed.

You shuddered at the sound of clapping thunder, shutting your eyes as you took another long sip from the bottle of Don Julio you had tucked between your splayed thighs.

“It's just a storm,” You recited the sentence, wanting to convince yourself it couldn't get any worse. “It's just a storm, just a storm.”

As the downpour picked up, your breathing followed suit, the tequila whirling in your veins worsening your anxiety. “It's just a storm. Not like the power–”

Before you could cough up the rest of your sentence, the lights went out, the music stopped, and you could hear the wind’s sinister snicker as you rocked from side to side. “Fucking perfect.” Now, you were awarded the pleasure of crying like a lovesick baby in total darkness.

You sighed, attempting to hone in on the mumbling voices of the assholes downstairs, and their laughs that were not deterred by the pelting showers and deafening thunder. You took another sip, gulping it down and basking in its burn. There was a rap at your door, soft, almost questioning and you turned your head. It wasn't your brother, you could still hear his obnoxious baritone wafting up through the vents from where you sat.

The sound came again, this time followed by that voice you were in love with, shy and sickeningly demure, “Um, it's, it's Scotty.”

You didn't move, unperturbed by your drunken mind’s fondness for games, but when she spoke again, your battered heart led you toward her reprise. “I'm just checking–”

You pulled the door open, and there she stood, purple flannel engulfing her slim arms, frown set, and bright eyes wishing. “I'm just checking on you. I know you don't like thunderstorms.”

Scotty chewed her lip as you blinked before her, averting your teary eyes with a hung head. She wasn't oblivious to your state, anyone with sense could detect you’d been crying, and Scotty knew you well enough to discern that it wasn't solely the quaking skies inciting your waterworks.

“You remember that?” A small, desperate whisper disguised as a question. It held no weight, no power, but you watched as your words made Scotty shake. You’d relayed your fear to her once, when you were seven and she was eight, yet it remained a planted memory for her.

She didn't offer you words, just a nod, and you let your lips curl, dipping your head to hide your blush.

“I don't l-like knowing you're sad,” You stepped aside, making space for her to enter your bedroom and she moved intuitively to the scented candles decorating your dresser, burning them to welcome light into your space. “And I'm sorry. For making you sad.”

You shut the door instinctively, trapping her, with plans of keeping her. “Won't everyone notice you're gone?”

“Told them I was gonna go check the fuse box.” She laughed to herself, placing the last candle down, turning to face you in the darkened room, and you narrowed your eyes curiously. “I don't expect you to forgive me. But–”

“You want a drink?” You already had, forgiven her that was, and there lived no shame in your choice.

Scotty nodded, watching you stoop to the floor and she sat seconds later, mirroring you as you shoved the bottle toward her.

Dim candlelight brought your room to life, their low beacon silhouetting Scotty’s tipsy face as you watched her watch you. You were sitting across from her, chin on your knee with a smile as she permitted her palm to wander your outstretched leg. Her fingers brushed your ankle, making you giggle as she continued the action.

You would be forever indebted to the tequila she downed, because without it, this boldness would not bustle within her.

“Why have you been avoiding me, Viv?” Your eyes turned desperate, their gleam burning her in the dark.

“Haven't been avoiding you.”

You shook your head, “Liar.”

Scotty let her eyelids stutter as she scanned you, reading your written pages, decoding your metaphors with ease and you stiffened beneath her analysis. Scotty was your favorite story; a tale inscribed on your mended heart, but it seemed that she too was a lover of literature, particularly when you were depicted as the protagonist. “You don't like it when you don't have my attention.”

You huffed at her revelation. Suddenly, the booze you downed was no longer happy residing inside the depths of your stomach — it wanted out.

“I-I don't like when you ignore me for five days.” You managed to counter, just as a furious clang dropped from the heavens, making you jump.

Scotty’s lips fell, but her kneading fingers remained on your jeweled ankle, smoothing up and down, her intent set on calming you. “I'm sorry. I–”

“It made me think you weren't into me in that way.”

She blew a laugh, blushing under flickering flames and she craned her head toward the wet window. You wanted to keep her there, flustered as you were. “I-I don't think there's any other way to be into you. You're all I think about.”

“Then why go ghost after what happened between us?” You sucked in your bottom lip as you awaited her response, though the answer was one you knew already.

She massaged your socked foot now, thumb rooting deep with that strength you fantasized about, and fuck if you didn't pass out then. “You know why.”

“He doesn't matter. This is about us.”

Scotty sighed, “It's no secret that I don't have many friends. Your brother is my closest and oldest, his friendship means a lot to me. Can't ruin that.”

You grinned at her with a hum, blinking back the sting in your eyes and the surge of hurt her statement triggered. It wasn't worth the risk to her; you weren't worth the risk, caring for you, indulging in you. Scotty's goal wasn't to hurt, but the way she blurred these lines so easily was daunting. “Being with me could really mess your life up, huh? Well, we can't have that.”

“T-That's n-not how I meant it.”

“How did you mean it?” You snapped back, harsher than intended, making her flinch.

Scotty settled, taking a sip from the bottle before returning all her attention to your foot. Both hands clasped it now, and the pressure they provided sent shock waves through your entire body. “I don't want to mess up my friendship with your brother. But I also know my feelings for you aren't g-going anywhere, and I can't see myself doing anything halfway. Not ever, not with you.”

You gasped when she pushed in hard on your arch, throwing your head back with a low moan. “And especially not when you make sounds like that.”

Alcohol made Scotty brave, you’d discerned, you liked brave.

“W-What are you s-saying Scotty?”

She sighed again, “I'm saying I’m conflicted. I'm saying I like you a lot. I'm saying you make me crazy, but I know your brother and I know he won't approve.”

“You're saying a lot of things.” You both laughed, and she nodded.

“Yeah.”

Heavy rain banged on the windows, pattering on the house like your pattering hearts and you scooted closer to her on the carpet, tugging your foot from her fingers as Scotty's eyes widened. “Can I say my things now?”

There was a gulp, and Scotty nodded. For a moment, all you heard was the drumming in her chest that mimicked the unsettling thunder outside, but this rumble was not one you feared, however. Instead, it existed as the only roar that could settle you.

“I like you too, Scotty,” God, how you loathed diminishing your feelings, but you hoped she sensed the weight in your confession. “I wanna be with you. Breathing hurts when you're not around. If I make you crazy, then god dammit, you make me batshit fucking insane. What I feel for you, Vivienne… these words of mine cannot do that justice.”

“There's no way you're like that because of me.”

You sat in front of her now, and her breathing grew rapid. “Let me show you,” You straddled Scotty's lap, and immediately, her hands found your hips as if they called out to her. “Let me show you what I feel for you, Scotty. I want you to feel it all.”

“I know what you're asking for. But we–”

You shut her up with a kiss, a famished one, and a moan crept out of you and down her throat. Scotty's eager lips danced with yours, and you tasted the tequila on her tongue, the agent of desire driving all of the night's confessions. Scotty pulled away with a growl, panting as she pressed her wet mouth to your throat, teeth sinking into your sweaty skin, and you saw stars. “Fuck, Scotty. Do that again.”

“We shouldn't be doing this. I don't wanna–”

We can't. We shouldn't. Words that held no meaning as you bounced without patience on her lap, the only thing on your mind being that line you were anxious to cross. “Scotty, to hell with the fucking friendship. You want me, fucking take me.” Your hoodie came off, and her eyes found your bare breasts with a sigh, erect nipples entrancing her.

“Why are you doing this to me? Fuck…”

You licked her neck, and her grunt was enough to make you come right there. “Please touch me. Anywhere. N-Need to f-feel you, please Scotty, just…”

“Baby I–” Her hot lips were on your neck again; biting and sucking, leaving you drenched, and you fought the urge to shove her hand down your biker shorts. Scotty called you baby. She whimpered it, and if you weren't so horny you’d be in tears.

“S-Scotty…” Maybe you would cry, your desire to have her ravish you pulling on those dams in your eyes.

She shook her head, firm in her protest and you climbed off her, sitting topless on the carpet as you finally let those tears roll free. “You don't w-want me.”

Silence.

“It's alright. I’ll leave.” You stood, feet on a mission to lead you straight out the door.

But then Scotty stopped you, locking your wrist in her warm palm and you halted in her touch, “T-This is your room. And you don't have a shirt on.”

A wet laugh escaped you. You’d forgotten about your hoodie, you didn't even know where it landed when you tossed it, and your readiness to book it spoke to Scotty's skewing of your mind.

She spun you, cupping your wet face in the darkness and her forehead met yours. “Please don't ever think that I don't want you. I want you so bad it brings me to tears.”

“Show me.” She nodded, lips finding your wet ones again and you felt like you were ascending. The way her mouth moved against yours woke the family of butterflies living in your core, and their fluttering pushed for a continuance.

Scotty's eyes landed on your boobs when she pulled away, and her huff of air came instantly as she nuzzled her face into your chest with a grunt. “Fuck, oh my god. They're right in my face, they're right there. Please, god please can I–”

“Scotty, you can touch me wherever you want.”

There’d still been some hesitation on her end, but sure enough, Scotty lowered her mouth to your naked chest, peppering open-mouth kisses along your blazing skin. Your moans were already on their way out of your mouth, and by the time those caring lips swirled your right nipple, your sobs were carrying.

She suckled your breast hungrily, shoving your back up against the frosty bedroom door with a desperate hum. “God, you're so pretty. So soft, I-I can't–”

Your hard nipple was locked between her teeth, and you whined, running your fingers through her hair as the tingle the action created shot straight to your damp folds. “S-Scotty, baby... N-Need more. M-More.”

“Tell me. I’ll do anything,” She rolled your puffy bud in her anxious tongue, slobbering all over your boobs with her endless sucking, and you writhed, the sensation fogging your brain. “Fuck, baby I’ll do anything you want.”

She found the second one, nipping softly, and the feeling almost sent you to the ground. “Bed, p-please.”

Scotty held your waist, guiding you swiftly to your bed with her lips still latched to your nipples, and you were a moaning mess the entire while, whimpering her name with each step.

She stumbled, ushering you to your mattress and she sat you at the edge. “Baby I want– I-I…”

You clasped her cheeks, gazing into those starry eyes and you smiled. Electricity seemed so insignificant when Scotty's bright irises emitted such power. “Talk to me, Scotty. I know it's a lot, use your words, yeah?”

She nodded, “I just, I’ve never done it before, but fuck, I need to taste you so bad it's killing me.”

“Yes! Yes, anything you need, please!” Your response was rushed, bellowing out of you like a dangerous wind of want.

Her hands were on the waistband of your shorts then, grabbing greedily at the hem in the darkness. Everything about the way she moved showed desperation, and it was the hottest thing you'd been subjected to witnessing. It took Scotty longer than necessary to get your bottoms off, and once they hit your ankles, she whimpered. “N-No panties? God, what are you doing to me?”

She nestled her face into your thigh, taking a moment to admire your shiny dripping folds in the darkness. “You're so wet already.”

“Only for you. Please…” You sprawled wider, showing off your leaking pussy to the salivating girl before you, and she allowed herself to blink for the first time in minutes. It was a brief one; Scotty refused to take her eyes off the cunt she made wet.

“Can I? Please tell me I can put my mouth on you. Need t-to hear you say it.” Hot lips sucking on your inner thighs made you shudder as you searched your brain for those words she sought off your lips. It was hard, talking this much when all you wanted was to feel her tongue steeping in your slick.

Her lips were on your waist, kissing you delicately, sucking your supple skin in attempts to coax consent out your throat, “Baby… say it. Say it, please.”

She begged so sweetly, never had you heard such a simple request coated in that much vulnerability. Your fingers found her hair, and you nodded, dragging her head to your center. “Put your fucking mouth on me, Scotty.”

That initial stroke of her tongue packed a punch that knocked you straight into your purple sheets as you released a guttural cry, feeling her hungry fingers trail your convulsing stomach. “Oh my god!”

Her sucks were masterful, the sensation of Scotty trapping your clit between her tender lips snatching the air from your lungs. You wanted to moan, wanted to cry her name as her sucks built you up, but you couldn't. All sound was trapped in your throat as you let your tears slip silently with Scotty’s tongue inside your depths.

It was all a dream, an overwhelming dream, except it wasn't. This was real life, the lapping at your dripping core was happening in real-time. And she made sure you knew that; there had been no taunting, no edging, Scotty went right for it, slurping your honey-coated folds as though it were her only purpose. “S-Scotty…”

“Is it good? Am I doing good?”

“Fuck s-so damn good. Perfect.” You pushed your hot cunt harder into her face, and Scotty breathed you in deep, neglecting oxygen as she chose to bury herself in your spilling juices. “Just like that! Ooh just like that!”

“Like this?” The languid strokes against your excited bud sent you soaring, small whines tumbling from your lips as you nodded in approval, relaxing into the pressure.

Your tears rolled down your face as you reveled in the way your pussy accepted Scotty's starved mouth, your body finally receiving the attention you knew she deserved.

“You taste so good, can't believe you're this wet for me.”

“Oh, Scotty, baby, every drop is for you. Only you make me this wet! Only you!” You were gonna come soon, that dangerous tongue of hers luring your climax from her hiding place deep within you. She crept up slowly; shy and unsure, but the second eager fingers slipped into your pulsing hole, she exposed herself, and the spasming force of pleasure she harbored.

“Fuck! Oh! Oh! Scotty, I'm coming please, don't stop! Please please please, baby, don't stop!” You squirmed as your orgasm hit, flailing desperately as you screamed Scotty's name over, and over, and over. Her free hand found your wet nipple, squeezing, tugging as she continued to lick, and suck you through the pleasure rush, never once taking her eyes off your body's reaction to her touch. “God, baby, wait, wait, I-I can't!”

She shook her head as she allowed her tongue to replace her fingers inside you, “Not done.” Her mission being to drink in every drop, every trickle of your cum, the sap from the fruit she was forbidden to have. Scotty knew it would be too much for you, but stopping herself wasn't an option, so you would just have to take it.

Your pleading clit palpated against her taste buds, shivering the longer she licked, but you would rather be rendered unconscious before you denied Scotty access to your wetness.

“M’gonna make you come again.” Her tongue swirled your entrance, pushing in and out, in and out as she swallowed everything your pussy expelled, your fractured whines only egging her on.

You nodded, eyes spinning, as you began to let yourself plummet, tangling in your sheets from the overstimulation. “Make me come again b-baby! I only w-wanna come for you, Scotty!”

“Are you mine?” Scotty's hand left your nipple, fingertips grazing your quivering abdomen on their way down to spread your pussy lips as she devoured you.

Your hips jerked. She was so desperate, her words pulling on that second release, and you braced your shaking body for impact. “Yes, I'm all yours Scotty.” You’d always been hers.

One last thrust of her tongue broke that dam holding back your raining orgasm, and you squirted in her face, groaning long and loud as your toes curled and your heels dug into her shoulder blades.

“You sound so p-pretty. So gorgeous.”

Your chest heaved, and your vision was damn near nonexistent, small flames doing what they could to anchor you. But you saw her, you saw Scotty: her pretty smile as she emerged from your deepness, the way both loads of your cum decorated her lips, and the way she licked them clean before climbing up the bed to hover above you.

“Are you okay? You aren't talking to me.” You wanted to, but the mist in your mind eliminated every word you knew. Every word except those three. They existed on your tongue, brash in their fight to escape, but you refused to be bested, even in this fragile state. “Baby? Where are you, talk to me, please. Need to know you're alright.”

“Mmm.” It was small, barely audible, and it did not suffice for Scotty.

She cupped your face, loving as ever, and those deep, lust-filled eyes bore into your drooping ones, “Hey.”

“H-Hi.” You gave her a weak smile, still floating, barely conscious and she kissed you softly.

Scotty swooped your braids out of your face when she pulled back, marveling at your blown irises under the moonlight seeping through your cracked curtains. You’d forgotten about the rain, but the scattered showers hadn't forgotten you. They demanded you shut your eyes and drift, and they somehow managed to get Scotty onboard. “I think you're done for the night, yeah?”

This rattled your heart, the idea that she would stop touching you and you shot up breathlessly with a stern head shake. “No! No, I n-need to f-feel you, wanna m-make you come t-too.”

Her blush was instant, “I don't wanna make this about me, this is about you, I just want to take care of you.”

“It’s about us, Scotty,” You pulled her in for a deep kiss, tugging at her flannel. “T-Take this o-off.”

A smile covered her lips and she pushed off you to strip. You were propped up on your elbows as you watched her, a smirk hanging on your mouth as your butterflies attacked your insides. Scotty reached for her briefs, but you stopped her, “Wait! Let me just… take you in for a minute? Just wanna s-see you.”

You’d waited your entire life to have a naked Vivienne Scott all to yourself, and you'd be damned if you wasted even a second of this glorious moment.

Scotty chuckled nervously, standing before you in her sports bra and boxers, wrestling with the desire to hug her middle and you frowned. “Scotty, do you know how fucking gorgeous you are? God, it's overwhelming.”

“Thank y-you.” She slipped her underwear down and you moaned at the sight of her pretty pussy. Dripping and glimmering, just begging to be consumed, and you licked your lips at the thought of being buried between those thighs of hers as you took her to heaven with your tongue.

“Come here.” You beckoned her forth with a lone digit, and she pulled her bra off before allowing your call to draw her in. She climbed you, settling her waist between your open legs as she peered down at your mess, then back to your eyes. “See what you do to me, Viv? Only you can m-make me come that hard.”

Your confession made her blush, and she buried her head in the crook of your neck shyly, “You can't say that, god I don't know how to take stuff like that.”

The waves from her giggle as she pressed her lips to your neck tickled you, and it made you grin. “You're so cute, but it's true.”

“Can I kiss you?” The question was her way of shifting the subject, and you laughed at her bashfulness before agreeing, pulling her lips to yours eagerly. “You feel so good under me.”

“I wanna feel you against me, Scotty.”

•••

Your right leg hung over Scotty's left, hips rolling skillfully into hers as you allowed her soft clit to knock tenderly against your own. She brushed your stomach as you rode her pussy in the dark, eyes glued to the meshing happening at your equally slippery cores. “Oh, Scotty, feels so good, fuck! God!”

A blissed-out Scotty lived only in your dreams, sweating and panting from the pleasure you caused her, moaning your name as you humped her cunt with yours until she was spilling all over you. Never had you thought a reality such as this could exist, and the sensation of finally living it had you bawling above her as she groped your bouncing boobs. “So good baby, I can't–”

She too was crying below you, overwhelmed by the pleasure created when your clits kissed. “Come for me, Scotty. Oh my god, come all over me, wanna feel all of it.”

“You're so stunning, so beautiful. My beautiful girl.” You’d been keeping count of the many times she'd called you hers all night, and the sound of those words falling from her lips coupled with your tired bud pressing into hers numbed your mind.

You gripped the back of her thigh, feeling its warmth, its dampness as you slipped your pussy against her swelling folds, ears welcoming the slick sounds of your melding cores. Each squish, each splash, pulled on Scotty's release, and it delighted you, the idea that she was in this state because of you. Scotty was going to come because of you. “Your pussy is so pretty Scotty, the prettiest. Can't believe I'm about to make her come. Please come for me!”

“Yes baby, I'm close, you're gonna make me come!” Her protruding clit knocked into your erect one and you screeched, the pads of your fingers leaving impressions on her soft skin. You felt your cum trickle from inside you, seeping onto Scotty's sex, nice and warm as it lubricated your desperate jolts. Your pussy was made to mold with hers, your releases serving as the nectar of your love, fusing you to her, thick and sticky and everlasting.

As the storm outside your windows intensified, so did the passion blooming in your bedroom; the spluttering rain was no match for the wet sounds created by the loving collision of your dripping cunts.

She was breathless, eyes rolling as she gnawed on her dry lips and you smiled, noticing a bead of sweat running down her erratic chest.

You leaned forward, grinding never faltering, and you licked it, absorbing her perspiration with your thirsty tongue. Scotty’s body convulsed at the feeling of your tastebuds grazing her abs, and you trailed a long line of spit up her middle, to the space between her boobs before pulling the left one into your mouth. “Oh yes… so good, feels amazing, keep doing that.”

“Come on my pussy Scotty, don't hold anything back. You deserve it, baby, please.” You mumbled with her hard bud trapped between your teeth.

“I'm, I’m, fuck baby w-wait– I'm coming all over you! I-I…” And her hips rolled faster, her breathing grew harsher and Scotty arched off the bed, moaning a long gurgle of your name, and it was this that exorcized the spirit of your orgasm from your own trembling being, hips sticking and stuttering as you felt the warmth of Scotty's cum pouring out of her and onto you.

She jerked underneath you, involuntarily striking your exhausted clit and the pair of you hissed from the hurt. You wanted to stay that way, keep her there, gasping for air as her head swam in her rapid release, eyes dazed and dark with her breathing inevitably mirroring your quiet huffs. Your cunts and thighs were a mess, cum coating your bodies as it drizzled down your interlock limbs. After a while it became indiscernible, whose juices belonged to who, but you didn't care, because you liked it that way, you loved it that way.

Scotty was an extension of you, your pleasure an extension of her own.

“That was amazing, baby, I-I, Th-thank you. I…”

You kissed her forehead, pulling her in as she caught her breath, and you smiled into her damp eyes. “Scotty, I need you to f-fuck me.”

“I d-don't,” You felt her tense, and her panic set in. “I’ve n-never–”

You pecked her, nibbling her bottom lip before pulling away, “S’okay. I’ll show you how I like it, just please, I need it. I need you.”

“I’ll do whatever you want.”

•••

“It's okay baby.” You were holding Scotty's face as she hovered above you, your trembling thighs widening to grant her entrance. As dark as it was, your slickness beamed brightly in the lack of light, shining only for her.

You pulled her in, ignoring her spilling tears as you planted a kiss on those delicate lips of hers. “I trust you, and I know you won't hurt me.”

Scotty nodded, gripping the head of the strap in her shaking fist as she rubbed it up against your achy clit, pulling on a hiss that prickled your eyes. “Scotty, I–”

The sensation was a lot; too much, and the building friction of the sensual assault on your bud had you weeping once more. “I know baby, I know. I just… Please let me rub it here for a little while,” Scotty used her hips now, avoiding your awaiting hole as she pushed the slicked toy through your tired folds, your clit throbbing beneath each glide. “You're so wet, I just wanna hear it, okay? Just wanna rub it against you.”

You could come from this: the pain, the pleasure, every emotion Scotty unlocked inside of you. But you were fighting it, battling that creeping crack deep down, because you wanted your last orgasm to consume you with the love of your life submerged in your canal.

She kissed you, guzzling your warm tears sitting on your puffy lips, “Please tell me you're wet for me. Tell me I can put it in, please?”

“S-So wet for you Scotty, please put it in, I need you, baby, need you so bad it fucking hurts.”

She wasted no time sinking into your searing heat after that, making you sob upon delivery, and you pulled her closer. Your nipples grazed hers with each of her ruts as your sopping cunt sucked her in, and she moaned in unison with you at the sudden contact. Her open mouth was on your wet cheek, pecking you as she filled you, stuffing your hollowed bones with a syrupy salve contrived of pure ecstasy. Her long, laggard strokes did away with that gorgeous ache you'd grown to love.

You just felt her — Scotty’s essence existed everywhere.

She was deep, bottoming out with the sexiest grunt you'd ever heard. The feeling of being stretched out around her as she worked your hole warped your mind, and you lost your grip on reality the higher she took you, something she sensed as she studied your contorting features. “Baby, b-baby, stay with m-me, eyes on me, okay?”

“I know. I'm g-good, keep doing it like that. Fuck me d-deeper. Need to feel all of you.”

Scotty swatted your watering orbs, rocking into your g-spot with all the care in the world, eyes swallowed black like the night sky as she spread your worn-out cunt with precision. “You're so precious, I-I don't want to ruin you.”

“Ruin me Scotty. Fucking ruin me.” Wet eyes clouded your vision, blurring the distant flicker of your candle’s waning flames as the sound of Scotty fucking you filled the room. Though gentle, her drives held power, sending tsunami-level waves of exhilaration through your cells. You could feel your pussy blooming wider as she drilled you into your creaking bed, and you inhaled the prominent aroma of Mulberry and Vanilla dancing in your room, allowing it to lull you.

Staccato thrusts tore you apart with each loving jolt, electrifying you as you wailed in her arms. Scotty was breaking you just so she could mend you. “You're doing amazing, s-so perfect. Don't cry baby, I'm taking care of you. Does that feel good?”

"G-Good."

She nestled into your bruised neck, inhaling you deep with grunts that made you quake. “Thank you for letting me take care of you, s’all I’ve ever w-wanted, baby.”

“I-I…” Your throat burned from all the crying, and you gripped tightly to her rolling shoulders, pulling her impossibly closer to your barren skin. “I love you, Scotty.”

Three little words. You’d been battling them all night, warring with them all your life, and tonight they emerged victorious. Their might surpassed your own in this state, frail and fucked out, floating aimlessly on your many billows of bliss. So you spit them out, and without hesitation, Scotty drank them, allowing her slow thrusts to gain speed as though your declaration were fueling her.

“I love you too. I love y-you s’much. You mean everything to me, you're m-mine.”

“I’m y-yours, Scotty. Only yours.” She bit your neck, hard, pulling on your hot wells, and you watched them drizzle down her bare back, mirroring the raindrops racing one another down your fogged windows.

“Please come for me. Please, please, need you to come with me inside you baby, you're so beautiful when you come, sound s-so pretty.”

You nodded weakly, already feeling that tensing band deep within. It wrapped around itself, stiffening — toughening into a coil whose demise was inevitable with the way Scotty fucked into the creamy chasm of your cunt. And you felt your walls narrow, clenching the strap and holding it in place the second she pressed the tip into your overstimulated nerves. You came then, eyes rolling like the thunder stifling your scream as your red nails punctured Scotty's flesh.

Her hips stammered when she knocked them into yours, and she used your throat as a silencer, grunting lowly into your sticky skin, weeping as you were from her own approaching climax. “I'm, I'm, b-baby I’m coming. Please, let m-me, I wan-wanna, Can I…”

You huffed, exhaustion treading through your body as you pursed your lips to kiss her head, “Let it out, Scotty. Give it to me, yeah? I love you so much, you make me feel so fucking good baby.”

Your name leapt from her stomach with one last push, and she whimpered softly into your ear, panting like a dog. “I love y-you.”

You were barely awake when Scotty eased her way out of your used walls, and you squirmed, feeling your hole clench around the absence of her stretch. You cried still, body vanquished by the thrill of the entire ordeal. Her lips pillowed your wet face tenderly before she rolled beside you, the pair of you exhaling on the same breath as the rain comforted your weariness.

Scotty said nothing, and her prolonged silence forced your mind to wander. Had she regretted the sex? Had she regretted you? Did she truly love you as you loved her? You wept heavier now, sniffling in the darkness, “I-I guess… I guess y-you should get going now. Don't w-wanna get cau–”

“Did y-you mean it?”

Your turn in the sheets was immediate, words steeped in admiration as you spoke, “I meant all of it, Viv.”

“Me too.”

You exhaled, mustering the courage to request to hear it again. “Can… I wanna hear you say it again. Please? Tell me again.”

Scotty did away with that practiced stutter, welcoming confidence into her confession. “I love you.”

“And I love you. Deeply, entirely, and unequivocally, Vivienne Scott.”

She sighed, and you detected her wavering assurance in the brush of her fingers when she stroked your side, “I-I w-want to be yours.”

You kissed her, sipping the fervor raining from her swollen lips as you permitted her respire to enter your being, melting the ache you once thought to be eternal. “You're mine.”

•••

Getting Scotty up and dressed proved to be exceedingly difficult. Rain still poured, the lights were still out and you were certain her absence would be questioned eventually. So she needed to be gone. “Baby, please, I don't wanna leave you. Just one more kiss? Last one please, please!”

Fuck… She deserved it. You wanted her to have it, but there was no time. You knew your brother well, and you had no plans of dealing with his scolding tonight if caught, not after the experience you and his best friend just shared. You wanted to allow yourself time to float on your high. But Scotty wanted one more kiss, and her lips were morphine. “Okay. One, Scotts, just one.”

“One.”

You pecked her, guiding her to the door and she whined into your throat, forcing you to swallow the heat it pushed out, and the gust shocked every last one of your nerves. You reached for the knob, lips still locked, and you pulled the door open. “You have to go.”

She giggled, stealing another peck before stepping into the hallway, flannel bunched in her fists, belt still unbuckled.

“Bye.” She said it, but her feet had yet to move, and all you could do was smile.

“I love you so much.” You pulled her in again, kissing her deeper, fuller, and it was you who moaned aloud this time as you fumbled with her belt buckle, wanting to clasp it for her, but fighting the urge of falling to your knees.

Her lips hovered over yours, sweeping, ghosting, and heating your feverish skin, “I lov–”

“Scotts, you still up here? I don't think you're gonna get that fuse fixed mate, the whole–” Your brother looked up from his phone, shining his flashlight down the dark hallway, and directly into your faces. “Yo, man what the fuck?!”

[axailslink]

When the fuck she get a grill that say her name? Where have I been?

[gweelczz]

“Cat Got Your Tongue?” PT. 1

Rosalie Otterbourne × Black!Fem!Reader

Warnings: Suggestive, smut in pt.2, Rosalie being the only woman ever, reader is a simp off rip, reader is the sister of Cab Calloway and the cousin of Billie Holiday, Rosalie has rizz

Summary: Being in love she didn't know whether she was falling or flying but she was airborne either way... or a story about a woman falling head over heels for another woman in the 1930s

Hello everyone! I am Red, I’m new to writing on this app so I hope you all enjoy my stories

—“In my solitude….”

Her voice rang out, bold but sweet being amplified by the silver microphone in front of her. A white mink wrapped around her shoulders with satin gloves to match, her gown cascading to the ground wrapping around her mid arm showing off her collarbones and shoulders. Her dark hair pinned with a side part showing off her sparkling diamond earrings she’s never been seen without.

She gripped the microphone with a ring clad hand, her face expressing an expression of pain and longing. How she longed to be kissed in the darkness of the night and held close to a warm chest as she slept. She hated sleeping alone, the bed was always so cold and too big, loneliness was a heavy cloud hanging over her pouring down sadness as she sang from her heart a song by one of het favorite artists who too understood what it was like to be alone, to crave being desired and wanted.

She quickly wiped a tear bowing her head in defeat succumbing to the emptiness in her heart, she sang once more her voice never wavering no matter how broken she was “In my solitude…”. Her auburn orbs scanned the silvery fogged room as she sang not looking for anything in particular, that is until another set of dark eyes found hers.

They belonged to a fellow woman, her skin, the perfect description of coffee beans. Eyes sparkling underneath the lights filled with curiosity, her shoulders rolled back as she stood her demeanor reeking of power mixed with independence. An arched eyebrow raised at Y/N, those dark eyes wordlessly asking her a question “who are you?”.

Y/N continued to sing to the crowd until her set came to an end. She bowed softly sweetly thanking the crowd before exiting stage left to give the spotlight to her brother Cab Calloway and his band. She made her way over to the bar ordering a drink as the upbeat jazz music rang throughout the club. She tapped her feet to the music glancing around observing her surroundings.

She wasn’t one for big places like this filled wall to wall with people, she was a homebody at heart preferring to stay home with a glass of wine and a good book. She had no interest in sleazy men who couldn’t take no for an answer or men in general for that matter. No no, she wanted to be a woman’s woman.

Y/N sighed to herself turning to face the stage when she felt a tap on her shoulder, turning to her left she prepared herself to cuss out yet another man who didn’t know how to take a hint only for the words to die in her throat.

She rendered herself speechless once she discovered who touched her, she turned coming face to face with the one and only Rosalie Otterbourne. “I.. I um..” she couldn’t bring herself to speak to the beautiful woman who decided to bless Y/N with her presence.

She opened her mouth to try again when she heard it, the sweetest sound she’d ever heard besides music. She’d heard a giggle, a soft giggle rang out from Rosalie’s throat as she stared at the speeches woman. “Cat got ya tongue honey?” She softly laughed slightly throwing her head back as she did so. Y/N thought she was beautiful from afar but she was breathtaking up close. Rosalie smirked at the other holding out her hand “I’m Rosalie, Rosalie Otterbourne niece and manager of the Salome Otterbourne. What’s your name sugar?”

Y/N swooned at the southern accent dripping from Rosalie’s lips, she took the other’s hand gently shaking it with a smile “I’m Y/N Calloway”. Rosalie’s smile faltered a bit at she gazed at the woman in front of her “as in the sister of the Cab Calloway?” Her eyes widening slightly as she spoke.

Y/N slightly chuckled, eyes flickering towards her brother on the stage who was already looking at her with a grin before turning her attention back to Rosalie. “Yes ma’am the one and only” she took a sip of her drink smiling at Rosalie, she noticed she was still holding the other’s hand as she gazed down for a second.

She quickly let go not noticing the way Rosalie frowned at this. Rosalie being the bold woman she is took Y/N’s hand into hers once more as she slid into the seat beside her. “You can hold my hand honey, I don’t mind it one bit especially if it’s a beautiful woman” Rosalie winked at Y/N before she turned her attention to the bartender ordering herself a drink. “Lord knows I shouldn’t drink on the job but a little liquid courage ain’t neva hurt nobody”

Y/N nodded her head in agreement humming as a vocal response. She took this time to take in the beauty next to her that went by the name of Rosalie. Her eyes scanned from her black hair down the black pumps her feet adorned. She knew of Ms. Otterbourne but to see her in the flesh boldly flirting with her was another. Raising her glass to her lips she downed her drink to get some courage before she shot back a flirt herself. “Well you’re one to speak Ms. Otterbourne, I’ve been blessed with the presence of a goddess”

This in turn made Rosalie turn in her seat placinga hand onto Y/N’s knee with a smirk. “Now that’s more like it, how about after my performance we go up to my room and talk as friends, I sure could use one”. Y/N nodded her head agreeing automatically, she wanted this woman and she was hell bent on making Rosalie hers. “Sounds great to me, you blow these people outta the water now ya hear?” Rosalie tilted her head back releasing a laugh while giving Y/N a glimpse of her sparkling teeth. “I shall do just that”

[bbxnny-bbxtch]

Random First Date w/Scotty headcannons 🫶🏽

Having a crush on Scotty is like a battle

She's so oblivious to your obvious advances

She'd go on and on about Yvonne..

She's so loving and just isn't sure how to express it...normally

When she first figured out she had feelings for you she definitely started to avoid you at work

Which was undeniably hard because you sit next to each other and were considerably close

She abused her red cap privilege

Everyone noticed her strange behavior and were very judgmental

She's so damn obvious with it, but you were too

Initially you thought Yvonne had come back from France and you distanced yourself as well

This caused you both to become just..idk a huge ball of sadness. A mess essentially

Dean had to slap you and tell you Scotty liked you back and THATS why she was avoiding you

Big slap in the face honestly

So, one day after your shift you left early to meet her at her van

She rushed out as she usually does, trying to avoid you. Not noticing you were leaning on the driver's side door

"So..you gonna ask me out soon or what?"

you're such a cocky bitch

Her shy smiles were so endearing you just couldn't help it. You did grab her by her waist and smirk as you whispered in her ear

"Come on, we have lots to talk about love"

You just sorta got in her van and let her drive you around as you both talked it out

You carried the conversation basically

She's so fucking fidgety and cute at first.

Later on she'd become more dominant and took lead

This kinda left you in a stupor..bc WTFFF

Switch x Switch supremacy tho

She took you out to a movie 🥹

Neither of you watched that bs though..

She's so sly, she chose a boring movie on purpose so that you guys could kiss and touch flirt in the back of the theater

She drove you home of course

After your first date she camped outside of your apartment in the van.

She'd be super shy initially when you came outside in the morning and found her there sleeping

But honestly- you thought it was cute

The thought of her wanting to protect you and watch you through the night hsjjfksk

So...first Scotty thing I've done and I love it tbh (i love her.) I need more Scotty content she's just so adorable...

[cafehyunji]

Update on Heaven To Me and Stay The Night

I hope to finish these after graduation ( if that’s fucking possible 😐)

I’ll be creating a tag list for these fics, so just comment to be in them. I’ll be making a google form for tags later on.

[mariahcarreyyy]

.ೃ࿐𝐒𝐂𝐎𝐓𝐓𝐘 𝐃𝐎𝐄𝐒𝐍’𝐓 𝐊𝐍𝐎𝐖 | 𝐦𝐯𝟑𝟑 |

max verstappen x fem!reader

plot. when max visits years after your split, the strong facade you've worn crumbles at his fingertips

wc. 3.4k

warnings. smut 18+, angry n rough sex, p in v, degradation kink, reader cheats on her longterm boyfriend lol, oral sex (f!recieving), rough fingering (f!recieving), dry humping, name-calling, doggy + missionary style, dom!max and reader who thinks shes a dom, hairpulling, slight choking, and very angsty in some parts

Two seconds.

The amount of time it takes Max to grasp your door handle and trudge into the dimly lit apartment instead of patiently allowing you to let him in is two seconds. A fitted black suit adorns his body. His body, who glides assuredly into your humble kitchen. His eyes, who choose to ignore your irritated frame.

Then his lips. His big, red lips, who swallow the copious amount of popcorn that his hands were shovelling down his throat. His massive, veiny hands who used to intertwine perfectly in yours.

Him, Max. The figure leaning over your marble counters with slouched shoulders and forearms resting against the cool surface is Max. Two cups, he notices, stand side by side on the sink. A pink Stanley cup and a cheap protein shaker that isn't his.

Max’s fingers twitch.

From where you’re frozen by the door frame, only his side profile is visible. You curl your fists tight. Suddenly, wearing an oversized Metallica t-shirt and panties didn’t seem so comfortable.

“Max.”

Your eye twitches at the acknowledgement you receive. Or lack thereof. The recently crowned third-time world champion huffs at the bowl of popcorn in his hands before turning to open the fridge. He doesn’t look very satisfied. But then again, he never really was when it came to you, was he? 

The light of the furniture illuminates Max’s face rather annoyedly, contouring his sharp jawline and the curve of his lips like it had a point to prove. This is what you could’ve had, it taunted, if you hadn’t broken up.

Much louder and more irritated than before, you call out for him. And then, your eyes meet. You had spent the last few years meeting his gaze solely through the rectangular box in your living room; now, you pinch yourself in disbelief—anger, as well.

“What,” you stutter, and almost curse yourself when you catch a glimpse of his cocky smirk you remember all too well. “What are you doing here, Max?”

The fridge begins beeping loudly. Rolling his eyes, the Dutch slams it closed, slipping past you and into the living room. You follow him. The room is lit up by what feels like a thousand scented candles and it’s cold despite it.

The blond collapses on top of your couch, and the cushions pull him in like they missed him. It’s been so long, they think, and you feel better than the girl who’d been crying on us when you left.

“Where’s that guy?” Max asks bitterly, eyes stubborn on the television before him. “The one you posted yesterday at that restaurant.”

Max doesn’t follow you on any social media anymore, and an evil part of you feels content with the fact that he’d had to manually search your name to see that photo. Last night, Scotty had made a reservation at a fine, respectable Italian place to commemorate your one-year anniversary. 

You had a good time; Scotty would quip about everything and anything, and you would laugh exaggeratedly. You two were a great pairing, you think— hope, for the sake of your sanity.

You make yourself home in the space next to him, pulling your knees to your chest and tugging at your shirt to cover your bare legs. “You need to leave. Now, Max.”

A quiet ‘hm’ slips past his lips. But he’s still stuck on the couch, toeing out of his dress shoes and crossing his legs together like it was his home—but, it isn’t. Not anymore. Not while you are evidently a meaningless speck in his glorious life.

When Max turns to you, disgustingly pretty blue eyes and all, you succumb to the tight grasp he has on all of your logic. “Business trip. Milan.”

An empty chuckle raises the tiny hairs on your arm and echoes across the room. Max clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth; his eyes refuse to leave yours. He brings a cold hand to tuck a fallen strand of hair behind your ear; his fingertips leave burn marks against your cheek.

“You don’t even like Italian food,” he continues, because does he ever really know how to stop? “Does he even know you?”

And that. It shouldn’t have made you as frustrated as it did, not when you had gotten over Max. Totally. Completely. Utterly. “What, like you did? Max, you wouldn’t even give a fuck to remember our anniversary!”

The sarcastic glint in his eyes turns sour. “I had to race—Fuck! y/n, I was leading the championship, you knew that.”

“Yeah, Max, how could I forget? Red bull this, Red bull fucking that,” you seethe through gritted teeth, face inching closer to him and squinting eyes shining predatorily. “It’s been two years, Max, two years since you broke up with me. So, congrats. You got what you wanted—a trophy and a name under your belt. Why don’t you fucking leave me alone?”

Max’s breath hitches, but your uncontrolled panting inhales enough air for the both of you. Then, his hand wraps around the side of your neck, not squeezing, but it’s there. It’s warm, and it feels painfully refreshing against your skin, and your protests die in your throat.

The Dutch whispers an octave lower, and only then, when his minty breath tickles your cheekbones, do you perceive your proximity, “Because I think if you really wanted me gone, I would be by now.”

And, well. He might as well be ripping open your ribcage and twisting your heart until it breaks in half, crimson blood making a mess of the carpeted floor. 

You’re left speechless under his gaze because as much as you try to deny, you know it’s true. Max would leave as fast as he did two years ago if there was even a hint of honesty in your words.

“And you know what else I think?” Max takes your silence as encouragement to continue. “I think he doesn’t fuck you well enough if you’re this desperate for it.”

Somehow, you muster up enough irritation to murmur, “I—m’not desperate.”

“No?” he taunts, extending his thumb to the underside of your chin and tilting it upward. “Why haven’t you properly kicked me out, then?”

You rack your mind for a response, a reaction—fucking anything to prove you aren’t wishing he’d just inch a bit closer to close the gap between you. 

“I . . . I hate you, Jesus Christ,” you curse defeatedly, craning your neck upward and frantically meeting his stupidly large lips.

The kiss isn’t slow or loving; it’s wet and filthy and you wouldn’t have it any other way. There’s a lingering taste of honey on his tongue when he brushes it between your parted lips, and you can’t help but pull him in deeper for more. 

The hand on your neck tightens significantly, Max’s breath tickling your upper lip as the other seizes around your under thigh and swiftly pulls you onto his lap.

A gasp flows out of your mouth and he greedily swallows it. You want to skin him alive when you feel him grin arrogantly, but then he presses a hand on your ass and lowers you flush against him—Him, and the massive bulge straining his black trousers—and the thoughts spill right out of your head into a gooey puddle beside your feet.

“I hate y— oh,” your murmur morphs into a shaky gasp when he rips his lips away from yours and attacks the canvas of your neck; you say those three words like you could them words into existence. 

And I hate that I still want you so fucking bad; those eleven words are left unsaid like you expect him to read your mind. But Max couldn’t two years ago, and you know he can’t now.

Your hands glide over his muscular frame, relearning the sharp edges and smooth skin of his body and you moan breathily when Max sucks on the sweet spot beneath your ear. “Y’might hate me, baby, but your pussy doesn’t. Fuck, she’s dripping all ov’me.”

A pathetic whimper slips past your lips. He’s not wrong— you could feel your slick coating your panties and rubbing against Max’s pants. You were usually one to stand your ground, but fuck, you need him. Need him the same you did the first time you met, both young and inexperienced. Maybe more.

Probably more.

But he isn’t doing anything to relieve the ache between your thighs, so. Before you take matters into your own hands and grind your pussy against his covered dick, Max’s hands cup the mounds of your ass and lift you sideways to splay your body on the couch.

“Max,” you say like the breaths have been knocked out of your poor lungs, but it might not be so far from the truth.

Max positions himself in between your legs, hips and thick thighs parting them wide, and the itchy fabric against your naked skin spins your head in dizzying circles. You could fucking see the damp patch your slick left on his crotch. Your hips buck into the air; you hate him, you hate him, you hate him.

His dishevelled hair lay atop his head and you want to pull. His flush trails down his neck and you want to bite and kiss and mark it till pretty bruises litter his soft skin. Your hands and lips stay pliant under his body instead.

“Y’d only get this wet f’me, though, hm?” he groans when his fingers push your skimpy underwear to the side, unblinking like the sight of your glistening folds would disappear if he looked away.

I’m always like this for you, you feel the need to reassure, even when you aren’t here—especially when you aren’t here. But your blood still boils at his stupid hair and stupid smirk, so. He’s met with silence.

Growing impatient, Max slaps at your swollen clit, humming satisfactorily at the loud gasp you let out. He grazes his digits past the bundle of nerves, and your incessant need to murder him and fuck him till he realized he’d made a mistake letting you go only intensify.

“Answer me or I swear to fucking God I will leave you like this, shatje,” he ends up growling lowly, thick fingers hovering over your hole. “And then it’s your boyfriend’s problem.”

“Max, fuck off–”

The warm body abruptly stands up, and you don’t think you’ve ever been this cold. But the empty sensation doesn’t last long, anyway. Max barely has any time to walk away before your fingers latch onto his forearm tightly.

You splutter, “M-Max wait, wait.”

When he tilts his head down to meet your eyes with a raised brow, you have no recollection of what you'd even wanted to say. 

“Please…please, just fucking help me.”

And apparently, that's all Max needs because his hands are immediately tugging your shirt off, lips trailing hot kisses in the divot of your tits. Your lips part around a moan when he purses his lips around your hard nipple, stomach stirring uncomfortably with need. His mouth leaves marks like cigarette burns in its wake; it stings against the wounds that have already healed years ago.

The Dutch doesn’t leave you much to dwell on before he lays between your thighs again, trails his hand across your body till his fingers nudge at your lips, and shoves his index and middle finger inside the wetness of your mouth. if you were slightly more desperate, you would've whimpered at the pleasent pressure on your tongue.

If.

“Fuck, lieverd,” Max exhales when you suck your cheeks in, wet muscle darting over and between his digits— wide, innocent eyes and all. “Can he get you like this? Fucking dripping and desperate for dick?”

You shake your head frantically because it’s true. Because he couldn’t, not like Max can. Satisfied, Max only presses against your throat slightly to watch you gag around him. He brings his hand back down to the space between your legs agonizingly slow and alas, pushes them both in like he’s in a rush.

“Max! Oh, oh m’God, fuck,” you gasp, the twinge of pain is quickly overshadowed by the hot pleasure bubbling in your lower stomach.

Your hips involountarily buck upwards into the fullness, but Max flattens his palm on your lower stomach to shove you down. Eyes rolling back and threading your fingers through his hair before tugging his insatiable mouth on your pussy.

“He doesn’t,” Max cuts himself off with a groan when his tongue flicks at your clit, familiar tasting slick pooling on his taste buds. “He doesn’t know you like I do, can’t make you cum as hard as I do, can he?”

He doesn’t expect a response; it isn’t even a question, as well as you’re aware. Max knows he’s the only person who can have you writhing and moaning on his fingers, cock, tongue— all three, one night.

And he’s right. But. Max’s control of the situation makes you feel queasy, so.

“No– ohh, fuckfuckfuck,” you moan, high and needy, when Max curls his fingers upwards, like a reward for agreeing with him. “He–, he fucks me better.”

From under you, Max’s face visibly dims, but you aren’t able to bask in the satisfaction it gives you before he drags his thick digits out of you—your hole clenching in protest, crying out at the emptiness when it fails to keep them inside—hooks his hands into the small of your waist, and your ass meets the hardwood floor.

“What the fuck–”

Your breath hitches when he flips you over on your elbows and knees. Back arched almost uncomfortably, furrowed brows with Max’s bruising hands on your hips to lift your ass further in the air. 

When Scotty slips into bed tomorrow morning, you hope he’ll see the ugly hues of blue and green on your tainted body and leave soundlessly.

Shaking your head at the intrusive thought, you curse internally. Scotty’s nice, and you don’t deserve him. Not when you’re willingly presenting yourself to Max, the folds of your pussy connected by the lewd lines of his spit and your slick.

"Y’wanna act like a whore?" Max whispers hotly from behind you– his breath tickles your ear and his hands rise to your hair, gather your locks into a makeshift ponytail, and tug it forcefully to tilt your head back, making you wince. "I'll fucking treat you like one."

A string of your desperate whines fills Max’s ears like a symphony, and he groans with you when you begin to grind your ass backwards against his dick. His dick. Fuck, Max needs it wrapped around your tight walls, milking him for all he has; needs to watch you writhe on his cock like it was what you were made for.

“I hate you,” you repeat, much more breathless than the other times you said it, and Max has the audacity to laugh.

Though, you guess it has more to do with the fact that all the while you were saying those three words, you were still needily humping your ass against his covered dick.

You still are, and it’s driving him fucking insane. Max curses when he realizes he’s still trapped by the confines of his pants. Whoever thought wearing clothes was a good idea?

Clumsily and with only one hand whilst the other grips your hair, he fumbles out of his suit. And Max throws the articles of clothing mindlessly—on the couch, on the floor. He doesn’t know, and he doesn’t fucking care. 

A relieved sigh fills the room as the cool air wraps around his painfully hard cock. Your breath hitches when you feel the thick tip graze your pussy. His hand hastily grips at his base, aligns it to your folds, and coating it in your slick as he strokes it once, twice.

“Ah! Max, holy shit,” you blabber when his cock nudges against your swollen clit, and finally, thrusts his hips forward, the tip fitting snugly against your walls. “Oh, oh, fuck, moremoremore, please.”

And Max. Well, Max is doomed.

“Fuck, liefje, your pussy missed me so fucking bad, I know, I know,” Max coos when your hole clenches around him greedily, and spreads your cheeks with one hand, gazing obscenely at the sight of you sucking more and more of him inside.

The familiar stretch burns and yet your hips push back against his cock— three words ringing in your otherwise empty mind: full, full, fuller. Max’s hips stutter as he meets your movements halfway, fucking his stupidly massive cock into your wetness and tightening his hold on your hair.

You wish you could say you hate the pain as much as you hate him.

“Max, Max, Max,” you urge him as your eyes roll to the back of your head, but you don’t really know what for; your neediness took over your senses the moment Max kissed you.

But Max, he’d already memorized all of it— all your tells, those things that pushed you over the edge—, protected them inside a dust-covered chest buried in his mind. It was no surprise he knew what to do with you now, filling you to the brim and pounding into you ruthlessly.

“Yes! Yes! Mm fuck, please, don’t stop, don’t stop,” you sob happily, and Max wouldn’t fucking dare.

The man behind you tugs you upright with the hand on your hair, his chest flush heatedly against your back and tilting your head to pounce at your neck.

“Tell me,” Max growls slowly, slowing his assaults on your wet pussy, and now, you’re almost sure that your hate is reciprocated. “Tell me he means nothing to you.”

A loud yelp leaves your lips when he slaps your clit again, and a slight gush of slick slides down your walls, dripping lewdly onto his balls. Your hand reaches up to grip his hair and pulls his pillowy lips back onto your neck; tears brim at your waterline. You aren’t sure if it’s because of how badly you want to cum or miss him— you blink.

No, no, no. That wouldn’t be possible because. Because you don’t miss him.

“He’s nothing, Max, nothing compares to you,” you cry out, and Max falters.

Then, he pulls out.

“Huh? Wha…” You inhale sharply, feeling so stupidly empty.

Before you dig a hole for you and your pussy to crawl in and die, Max is swiftly turning you over by your hips and engulfing his dick in your walls again. Your mouth falls open again; Max takes it as an opportunity to press his lips against yours.

Your hands cradle his face and kiss him back gently like he isn’t fucking the life out of you. Like he isn’t projecting his pent up frustration for the last two years onto your wet, tight pussy. A muffled cry escapes your mouth when Max thrusts into you with newfound fervor.

His lips detach from yours, burrying his forehead into the crook of your neck to, hopefully, muffle his groans. “Max– ah! Oh m’God, I’m so close, please just.”

Max nods, wild and frantic and horny, slipping a hand between your sweaty bodies. He tweaks, pinches, and rubs at your clit until you let out a shriek and your thighs close instinctively around him.

He bottoms out, grinding helplessly inside the heat of your pussy. “Cum f’me, shatje, wanna feel you cum on m’cock. Fucking cum.”

And, well, if you were even the slightest bit good at denying Max, you wouldn’t even be in this position. So. You arch your back off the ground with a high, loud moan and savour the white specs in your vision that only Max seems to bring out of you.

He fucks you through your orgasm—chasing his own with short, wild thrusts. “Ah, fuckkk, if only y’were as good as y’pussy is to me, liefje, y’d be getting m’cock like this every fucking night— Fuck!”

Beads of Max’s thick cum fill you to the brim with a loud groan and a long string of curses, tainting your insides a heavenly white. His hips stutter when you clench around him, milking him for all he has just like he’d wanted. And, when Max pulls out with a shaky gasp, he takes another piece of your heart with him.

Maybe, if you make this same mistake enough, he’d realize he has your heart already, full and pieced together.

But Max was never one to take a hint, never one to read your mind, so you settle for the parts of him you can have once in a blue moon; you settle for him picking you up, carrying you to your bedroom, cleaning the mess between your legs, and pulling the covers above your naked frame; you settle for the scowl on his face when he notices the polaroid of you and Scotty on your bedside table.

“I hate y—”

Max leaves the room before you can finish your sentence. 

He knows.

authors notes dedicating this to @enchantecafe + @scuderiahoney bcs they were hor knee for max on this poll (me too) i hope you guys like it and thank you to @cafekitsune for the dividers once again xx

i feel like this isn't my best work but i'll post it anyway because i spent a lot of time on it and yolo. also i think i fried my brain with it.

also, writing this fic made me realize idfk how to write angry sex it just ends up being angsty so. i think at times theyre angry but as they go on, some of that tension dissipitates and they both realize they want but cant have each other. tried my best tho!! xx

lemme know how you liked this story or give me some feedback in the comments or my inbox! 💬🐢

taglist in separate posts bcs tumblr chooses to be annoying <33

p.s reblogs and likes are always appreciated 💚💚

[whorekneecentral]

Old Friends

Lance Stroll x Vettel!Fem!Reader

Warnings: big brother seb!!!, queen hanna appearance + a mick and gina cameo, lance has a crush, alcohol and the consumption of, being tipsy/kinda drunk, mentions/ insinuated that someone cheated, nipple play, oral (m!receiving), penetrative sex (p in v), creampie, seb teasing the two of you.

Word Count: 2,492

Author's Note: this is one of my favs so far. I couldn't write lance and not put in seb, it just wouldn't be me.

merry smutmas series

--

Lance gets an invitation to an old teammate’s place to ring in the new year but he finds himself too distracted by someone in particular to care about the ball dropping.

The invite came in the mail; a dying trade his former teammate would tell him.

A little brown envelope with silver glitter all over it, surely his girls helped him put it together. The card inside was hand written, Sebastian's scrawled cursive with pictures drawn in pencil crayon and covered in glitter at the bottom.

You're invited to the Vettel household on December 31st at 9pm for a New Year's Eve celebration.

Please rsvp by December 22nd.

With love,

Sebastian, Hanna & the Vettel children.

Lance didn't have plans, his parents were doing their own things and Chloe would be in Australia with Scotty and his family so he took his phone out and texted Seb right then.

To Seb: Hey man! Got your invite, tell the girls I said their drawings were adorable. Just letting you know I'll be there :)

It took Seb 10 minutes to reply.

From Seb: Thanks Lance! The girls say hello and thank you. We can't wait to see you.

--

Lance finds himself on the Vettel's doorstep on New Year's Eve, a bottle of some expensive Swiss wine in hand. He knocks on the door and Hanna opens it with a little boy in her arms.

"Lance!" She smiles, stepping to the side for him to come in.

"It's so nice to see you," the younger driver says, kissing her cheek before saying hello to their son.

"Please make yourself at home. Food and drinks are in the kitchen and Sebastian is somewhere around here." She tells him, rocking the sleepy boy, "you know how he is." She laughs, shutting the door.

Lance nods, smiling at her as he follows her into the house. The place is full, he showed up around 10 rather than the 9pm invite but it doesn't seem to make a difference. Everyone is all over the place; he goes over to say hello to Seb and then bumps into Mick who was there with his girlfriend, sister and her boyfriend.

He does in fact make himself at home, putting the wine in the kitchen before getting himself a drink. His red solo cup has some vodka in it and he spins around, looking for the cranberry juice. He sees everything but that.

"Need help?" A voice comes from behind him and before he turns, he knows exactly who it is. He smiles when he does turn, now face to face with her. "Hi y/n."

"Hey Lance," you smile, "what are you looking for?" You walk over, hugging the man hello.

"Cranberry juice." He tells you and you nod, walking to the fridge to grab it.

Lance watches you, admiring your outfit; a slinky silver top and a black mini skirt that frankly wasn't very family friendly but was on par with the theme of the night. He had met you when Seb became his teammate at Aston, you had a habit of following your brother around the world when you got bored of your life. You were only a year younger than Lance but he was intimidated by you.

You were just as bubbly and fun as Seb, loud and out there but in Vettel fashion, you could become broody at the snap of your fingers; something that only happened if someone fucked over your brother or at least that's when Lance noticed it.

Now if Mick had walked into the kitchen then, he'd be teasing his friend.

He was aware of the crush his friend had on his other friend. Mick had encouraged Lance to talk to you time and time again but he could never work up the courage. When he finally did, you were in a relationship and you had been since.

"Here," you hand the bottle over to him, "I put it in the fridge. It gets gross.. well even more gross when it's warm."

Lance smiles, "thanks." He pours the juice into his cup, before settling it back into the fridge. In the meantime, you had been filling a few shot glasses with what looked like tequila.

"Are you driving tonight?" You asked, downing one of the shots. Lance shook his head, "took an Uber."

"Perfect," you handed a shot over to him, picking up another one for yourself. "Bottoms up, Stroll." You tapped your glass to his and down the tequila.

Lance makes a face, clearing his throat which makes you laugh. "So, how are you? How's Fernando as a teammate?" You ask him, pouring some soda into a glass.

"I'm okay. He's pretty okay too, he's no Sebastian Vettel though."

You smiled, "that's what I like to hear. I've been keeping track, you did great this season."

"Yeah? You think so?" He asks and you nod, leaning on the counter as you take a sip of your soda. "Thanks," he smiles, taking a sip from his glass in hopes that it covers the blush on his face. "So uh.. how have you been? How's your boyfriend?"

"I'm good," you smiled, "as for him? Who knows, he's probably fucking some model somewhere."

Your words catch him off guard, Lance chokes on his vodka. Your brows furrowed, his hand rubbing at his chest as you looked at him. "Sorry, I just... I take you two aren't together ?"

"No," you shook your head, "it's whatever though."

"Sorry to hear that," he tells you and you shrug, smiling at him. You were about to say something but Gina was shouting for you, something about shots. "Excuse me," you smiled at Lance, picking up the bottle of tequila and the pack of shot glasses before heading over.

As much as Lance wanted to be sorry about your relationship ending, he couldn't be. This must be some sort of gift from god, for you two to be in the same place while you're single and he had enough liquor in him to tell you the truth.

--

The hours go by and it's inching closer to midnight with each passing second and you were dancing around the kitchen as you got a snack. A slice of pizza held between your teeth as you poured yourself a drink.

"Hey," you mumble, mouth full as you take the bite and hold the pizza. Lance smiles at you as he gets himself another drink. "Hey."

"You good?" You asked, setting your pizza on the counter. Lance nods, "perfect, you?"

"Yeah," you smiled, shimmying your shoulders as you danced your way over to the Canadian driver. He smiles, watching you. The many tequila shots added up over the night and the fact that the tiles were sticky from what seemed like spilled soda, caused you to slip and fall right into Lance.

His drink spills all over your very cute top. "Oh damn," you tsked, looking down at yourself. "Oh shoot, are you okay?" you asked, looking at him to see if anything got on him.

"I'm okay, are you?" His hands held your forearms, steadying you. "Do you need to change?"

"I probably should," you tell him and Lance nods for you to walk, his hand holding onto your arm to keep you steady. He knew the layout of the house, he had come over for dinner many times before and he had spent the night after one too many glasses of wine.

Lance walks you up the stairs, hands on your waist as you two head up. You walk into the guest room and Lance shuts the door, "are you okay ? Do you need help finding anything?" He looks at you as you sit on the bed.

You shook your head, "all good, Lance. Thank you."

He nods, taking that as his cue to leave so you could change. As he turns towards the door, you grab his hand. "Can you.. undo the knot?" You turned your back to him, pulling your hair up.

It was two single knots done up with a bow behind your neck and your mid back that kept your top up. Lance carefully undid the knot on your back, letting the strings fall to the sides and your bare back left exposed.

"The.. the other one too?" He asks and you nod, "please."

Lance is hesitant, but he reaches forward and pulls the string, undoing the knot. The silver fabric falls to the floor, the beading on it clings when it hits the floor.

Your back is still facing the driver, you've dropped your hair back down but it's abundantly obvious to Lance that he's stood in the room with you, while you were.. well, topless.

"I should.." he starts but you turn to face him, his eyes shifting down to steal a glance at your tits and he looks back up at your face - it took all but a second and he was but a man.

You smile, holding his jaw with your hand. "Stay."

"I really shouldn't." He whispers and you step closer, my chest pressed to his. "Why not?" You asked, standing on your tiptoes, lips ghosting over his.

He doesn't answer but he lets you kiss him, his cold hand rests on your lower back, pulling you flush against him. "You're drunk," he whispers against your neck and you shake your head, "I'm not."

"Are you sure you want to do this?" His eyes find yours when he pulls back and you nod. "I do."

"Okay," he says, kissing you again.

Your hands make quick work of his shirt, undone the buttons as he kisses down your neck to your chest. Lance has got an arm around you, his lips moving down towards your tits, his lips wrapping around your nipple.

The sound that leans your mouth was like heaven on earth to him; he can't wait to find out what other filthy sounds you could make.

It was much too loud downstairs for anyone to have a clue what was happening upstairs. The door was locked and he knew you had at least 40 minutes to midnight.

You push him away for a minute, the man looks at you confused as you scoot him back to the bed, letting him fall onto the soft mattress. Lance expects you to get on top of him, not sink to your knees in front of him.

"Baby-" "Shut up," you tell him, undoing his pants.

He smiles, carefully pulling your hair out of your face as your hand wraps around his cock. Lance bites back a groan, watching as your hand moves up and down slowly, your lips brushing over the tip.

"Please," he whispers and you smile, looking up at him through your lashes as you take him in your mouth. This time, he does groan out loud. "Fuck," he sighed, your hair into a make shift pony tail in his hand.

Your cheeks hallowed, head moving up and down. Lance watches your every movement, eyes fixed on you and everything you did; had he known, he would have spoken to you much sooner.

The stifled gag comes when the tip of his cock hits the back of your throat, eyes watering as you pull back a bit. Lance pulls you up, "as much as I want you to keep going, I wanna cum somewhere else."

"My mouth is just as good, Lance," you tell him, wiping the side of your lips with your thumb, sucking your finger. You don't miss the way his cock twitches at the action.

He smiles, "I'm sure it is, but c'mere."

You let him pull you up before you get on his lap, straddling him.

There was enough liquor in your systems to give you the courage to do things you wouldn't normally do but that you’d definitely remember. 

Thighs squished on either side of him and your arms over his shoulders. His hand slides down from your hip to your ass, giving it a little squeeze. He smiles at you, admiring you. "Now, are you gonna stare at me all night or fuck me like I know you've been wanting too?"

For the second time that night, Lance had been caught off guard by your words. "You.. knew?"

"Of course I did, your staring wasn't exactly discreet, babe." You smile, pinching his cheek before you kiss him.

Your skirt bunched up on your hips, panties pulled to the side as you sank down onto his cock.

His hand on your hip guiding you, letting you bounce on his lap, his name falling from your lips.

Lance bucks his hips and your nails drop down from his shoulders to the scratches along his back. He lets out a groan, his face buried in the crook of your neck.

Your hand tangles in his hair, pulling his head back so you can kiss him. You kiss all over his face, Lance's cheeks red not just from the lipstick you had on but from the blush forming on his cheeks; though if you asked him, he’d blame it on the liquor. 

"Fuck," you mumble, Lance's arms around you to keep you steady as you bounced on his lap, back arched slightly.

His hands squeeze at your hips, fingers digging in hard enough to leave behind fingerprints. 

“Mmm there,” you breathe, chest pressed to his. 

Lance's lips find your shoulder, he bites down softly when he feels you clench around him. “Gonna cum for me, sweetheart?” He whispers into your shoulder, peppering kisses over where he had just bitten. 

Humming, your arms are wrapped around him, over his shoulders when you cum, wetness covering his cock. It takes only a few more thrusts and Lance follows behind you, the two of you holding onto each other for a while. Your legs are like jelly when Lance helps you up, letting you fix yourself.

He too get redressed and you change into a different top, fixing your skirt and your makeup before turning to him.

"11:58, we can make the ball drop." You grab his hand, pulling him out of the room with you.

Everyone was in the living room, watching the TV and chatting as they awaited the count down. Your brother notices your return, as well as Lances, who stood behind you.

"Outfit change?" Seb asks, handing you a glass.

You nod, "spilled soda on my other top." You tell him, watching as he passed a glass to Lance.

Seb hums, nodding. "And you required Lance's assistance to change?" His brow raises and your cheeks go red. "I.. I don't know what you're talking about."

"Yeah," Seb laughs, "whatever, y/n."

Lance smiles, his arm over your shoulder as the countdown plays; 10, 9, 8.

Your fingers interlock with his; 7, 6.

His cheek presses to yours; 4, 5.

"3, 2, 1, Happy New Year!" The people in the room cheer, friends hugging and lovers kiss. Lance leans over and you turn a bit, your lips pressing to his for a new years kiss.

"Happy New Year, Lance." You smiled, wiping the lipstick from his lips. "Happy New Year, Y/n."

---

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[ambrossart]

DANCING WITH MYSELF

— PART NINE 

summary: eddie crashes senior prom hoping to steal a dance with his dream girl, chrissy cunningham. instead, he spends the night stuck in the women’s restroom with you—her snarky, insecure best friend. ❖ pairing: eddie munson x fem!reader ❖ word count: 7,133 ❖ genre: fluff with some angst ❖ series status: complete ❖ warnings: no season 4 spoilers, some coarse language, body image issues, typical teenage insecurities, angst, jealousy, anxiety, secret crushes, childhood memories, happy ending, lots of 80s music, me knowing nothing about d&d, seriously none of the gameplay is accurate, consider yourself warned 

one | two | three | four | five | six | seven | eight | nine | ten

Eddie was more than a little caught off guard when you suddenly wanted to join his summer D&D campaign. 

You were popular, you were on the volleyball team, and he was just the trailer park kid whose father was constantly in and out of prison. “Eddie Munster”—yeah, that’s what they called him (because he listened to heavy metal, dressed all in black, and had the pasty complexion of someone who hadn’t seen the sun a day in his life). He was confident that ninety percent of the student body had no idea what his actual name was. To them, he was simply Eddie Munster, the kid destined to spend his life behind bars.  

Needless to say, Eddie was a little skeptical when Jeff called an emergency meeting in the science lab two weeks before the last day of school. He said he had a friend (“Well, actually she’s my lab partner”) who was interested in joining their summer D&D campaign, an intense and insanely immersive three-month-long crusade that Scott Sloman spent the entire school year working on. It was his pride and joy, his magnum opus, and Scottie would never waste such a masterpiece on a new player. 

Unless, of course, that new player was a girl. 

Scottie’s wandering hands came to rest on a clumsy stack of ungraded quizzes. He picked it up and tap, tap, tapped the pages neatly into order. 

“She cute?” he asked Jeff, with no shame at all. 

Eddie rolled his eyes. “No, Scottie, she’s not cute. She’s just really, really annoying.” 

“Oh, so you know her?” 

Eddie felt his whole body recoil from that grossly incorrect assumption. “What?” he said. “No, I don’t know her. I just… I just know who she is, that’s all.” 

Eddie first saw you at the middle school talent show. Corroded Coffin had just finished their first performance in front of a live audience. They played Judas Priest’s “Rock Forever” because it was the only song the principal didn’t immediately reject for having violent, anarchic, or offensively unchristian messaging. 

“Why can’t you boys play something peppy, something snappy… you know, like The Beach Boys or The Beatles?” 

“Dude, fuck The Beatles.” 

Eddie didn’t care. He just wanted to play some music. Throw himself in it. Lose himself in it. Forget about his shitty, miserable life for just three and a half minutes. 

That night, in front of a packed audience of students, faculty, family and friends, Eddie Munson strummed the final power chord and felt the notes clash against each other and crash into a concrete wall of pure silence. The illusion had shattered, and Eddie was back in reality. He was grounded in it. Sinking in it like quicksand. He staggered back and looked out, shielding his eyes from the glaringly bright stage lights, and in the silence he heard a sound that made his stomach drop. 

Someone was laughing. Laughing at him. 

Eddie tracked the sound, his eyes darting anxiously around the faceless crowd, and he found you giggling in the front row with your fist over your mouth, giggling yourself to tears. Eddie would never forget that sound for as long as he lived. 

“Oh, she’s that girl, huh?” Scottie swiveled around in the teacher’s chair like a movie villain. “So Munson’s little heckler has finally come to ruin D&D for him… Now that should make for a very interesting campaign. I like it. She’s in.”  

Eddie jumped to his feet. “Hey, you don’t get to decide that!” 

“Umm, I’m the Dungeon Master. It’s my campaign, and I’ll decide who plays it. Keep giving me lip, Munson, and you can find something else to do with your summer vacation.” 

“Fine,” said Eddie with a defiant shrug. “If she’s in, I’m out.” 

Grant gasped. “What? Dude, you can’t be serious!” 

And Jeff said, “Awww, come on, man. You can’t just skip the summer campaign. We’ve been looking forward to this all year.” 

Scottie called for silence with his hand. “Hey, if Eddie the Craven wants to run away from a twelve-year-old girl, let him. I mean Jesus, Munson, do you even hear yourself right now? So a girl laughed at you… Who cares? She’s not the first and she definitely won’t be the last. We’re freaks, dude. It comes with the territory. Either ignore it or embrace it, like I do. You can’t spend the rest of your life hiding from girls.” 

“I’m not hiding from girls,” Eddie said. “I just… Look, why do we play D&D?”

Jeff said, “Because it’s fun.”

Eddie pointed at him exuberantly, grinning ear to ear. “You’re damn right, it’s fun. It’s the best fucking game in the world! But even more than that, it’s an escape, right? It’s the one time when we can do whatever we want, be whoever we want, and we don’t have to worry about the cool kids making fun of us, girls laughing at us, being knocked around or thrown into dumpsters…” 

Scottie looked over at Grant. “You still smell, by the way.” 

Eddie went on: “My point is, D&D is our only safe haven, you guys. And yeah, maybe one day we won’t need it so much. I mean, shit, maybe we’ll get to high school and everything will magically get better. Maybe we won’t be seen as the freaks anymore. I don’t fucking know. But right now, we need it. And I’m telling you, if we let that girl in… if we let her into our safe haven, she’s gonna poison everything, man. She’s gonna make fun of our characters and laugh at us when we narrate their actions, and then we’re all gonna feel self-conscious and we’re gonna start to pull back, and then—shit—then the whole game becomes pointless. Then it’s just middle school all over again, and I don’t wanna deal with that all summer!” 

Jeff said, “She’s not joining to make fun of us.” 

But Eddie didn’t believe him. “Oh yeah? Then why is she joining? Y/N doesn’t even like fantasy, so why does she suddenly wanna join our campaign? Huh? If not to make fun of us, then why?” 

Jeff’s mouth opened and closed helplessly. He turned away. “Hey, you’d have to ask her that, man. I’m just the messenger here.” 

Scottie huffed impatiently and spun around in his chair. “Oh my god, this is getting ridiculous now… Look, how ‘bout we just vote, okay? Is that fair enough for everybody? Everyone who wants to hang out with a cute girl all summer—”

“I already told you, she’s not cute.” 

“—a girl who Eddie claims is not cute, but honestly he’s probably just saying that because he wants to keep her all to himself. If that sounds at all appealing to you, please raise your hand now.” 

Scottie’s hand flew up as soon as he finished speaking. Then, slowly, Jeff’s hand went up, too. 

“And all opposed?” 

Eddie and Grant raised their hands. 

“Well, it looks like we have a tie, gentlemen.” Scottie leaned back and plopped his feet on the teacher’s desk. “And when there’s a tie, the Dungeon Master gets the final say, so…” 

“Dude, that’s bullshit!” Eddie said. “Gareth isn’t even here to vote.” 

“Well, that’s because Gareth is doing finger paintings in elementary school right now. He’ll get a vote as soon as he hits puberty, okay? Until then, I’m pulling rank here, and I say she’s in. There. It’s decided. It’s happening. Get over it, Munson. Jeff, go tell your cute little female friend she can join our campaign.” 

“You can tell her yourself,” Jeff said. “She’s waiting right outside.” 

Everyone cried out at once: “WHAT?” 

“You brought her here?” 

“And you made her wait outside this whole time?” Scottie clawed at his acne-scarred face in frustration, digging deep furrows into his cheeks. “Oh my god, I’m surrounded by Neanderthals! See, this is exactly why we need a girl in our group. None of you know how to function in civilized society! You guys need to stop hanging out with Eddie and learn some damn social skills.” 

Scottie got up and started towards the door. 

Eddie’s hand shot out. “Hey, don’t—don’t open that!” 

And Scottie gave him a baffled look that screamed, Are you fricken kidding me right now, dude? 

“Damn, this girl’s really got your panties in a twist, doesn’t she, Munson? Yeah, she’s got you quivering in your boots like she’s the Big Bad Wolf or something.” He shook his head. “I’m tellin’ you, man, you better get your shit together before next year or else those high school girls are gonna eat you alive, bro.”  

Scottie opened the door and went out. Eddie reluctantly followed, for no other reason than to prove he wasn’t scared of the Big Bad Wolf. 

They found you in the hallway, sitting on the floor with your legs sprawled out in front of you, wearing a pair of embroidered jeans and an oversized sweater that hung on you like a sack. You were humming a wordless tune as you played with one of the paper fortune tellers Chrissy had made during your last period class. She said she had hidden a secret message in one of the folds, and you were determined to find it without cheating. 

You worked the fortune teller with your fingers. “B-L-U-E… and… one, two, three…” 

The door swung open. Eddie took one step out, saw you, then stepped right back and huddled against the doorframe. Casually, of course, as casually as he could. Then he caught you peeking at him with a mischievous little smile, and he felt his heart race with trepidation, thumping hard against his ribcage. 

“So,” you said, “am I in?”

Scottie wore a self-satisfied smirk. This is her? the smirk said. This is the girl that’s got you so scared, Munson? 

He approached you with an outstretched hand. “Pleasure to make your acquaintance, m’lady. I’m Scott Sloman, but you can call me Scottie. I’ll be serving as your humble yet undeniably charismatic Dungeon Master this summer. I’m also the co-founder and lead singer of the critically acclaimed heavy metal band Corroded Coffin.” 

Your eyes widened in apparent awe. “Critically acclaimed, huh…? Remind me again: didn’t you guys get last place in the talent show? Or am I thinking of another shitty metal band?”

Grant piped up from inside the classroom: “No, you’re thinking of us.” 

Eddie shot Grant a sharp, disapproving glare, then turned back to you. “Hey, we didn’t get last place, okay? We got ninth.” 

“Yeah, out of like ten acts,” you said with a flippant shrug, “and the last act never even took the stage because Todd had a nervous breakdown and threw up all over himself backstage. We’re talking Campbell’s Chunky Soup. It was everywhere, you guys, like in his shoes and all over his creepy little puppet, and people were like walking in it and slipping in it. It was super gross but also kind of hilarious. Like, I would’ve totally given him first place for that, but I wasn’t on the judging panel, so…” 

Eddie made a weak gesture toward you. “See?” he said to Scottie. “This is the kinda shit I’m talking about. You really wanna listen to this all summer?” 

Scottie said, “Hey, I don’t mind a girl with some spunk,” and he knelt down in front of you, causing you to draw your legs all the way in and fold them underneath you. Scottie barely noticed. “That’s Eddie, by the way. As you can see, the guy has no sense of humor. Also, I’m pretty sure he’s scared of you.” 

“Really?” you said. “I can’t imagine why…” 

Then you looked up at Eddie with an impish twinkle in your eyes (how brightly they sparkled beneath the florescent lights), and he felt his whole body tense up with dread. This was all part of your plan, wasn’t it? First, you somehow got Jeff under your spell, corrupted his mind and turned him into one of your minions, and now you were slowly working your dark magic on Scottie. 

I see what you’re doing, Eddie thought. You’re trying to turn all my allies against me. Well, it won’t work because Grant’s mind is a fortress and Gareth’s as stubborn as a dwarf. They won’t be so easily swayed by your charm. 

Meanwhile, Scottie had taken out a pen and was writing his address on your hand. “Our first session will be held on the first Friday of summer vacation. We meet every Friday through Sunday, from 10:00 AM to 8:00 PM. If you can’t commit to that, don’t bother showing up at all because this campaign requires serious dedication from everyone. Okay? Also, if you miss more than two sessions, you’re automatically kicked out of the party. Think you can handle that?” 

Scottie posed this question to you with the stern glare of a shrewd businessman. Holy shit, you thought, this is actually happening! And with this realization came a great wave of anxiety. It crashed over you and consumed you, making you bite your lip in hesitation. Then your eyes drifted down to the fortune teller resting on your lap, and you clung to it like a life raft. 

Here, I made this one special… just for you. 

Oh? Did you write that I’m gonna marry Steve Perry? 

That… and something else. 

What did you write? 

Hey, I’m not telling! You have to find it yourself. And whatever it says, you have to do, okay? No going back. No hesitating. This is my prediction for your summer, and it’s set in stone. Got it?

You picked a number, your lucky number, and carefully unfolded the flap. 

Chrissy’s hidden message made you smile. 

Then you stole a glance at Eddie and felt your chest swell with a newfound sense of determination. No going back. No hesitating. 

“If that’s what it takes, then yeah. Let’s do it.” 

Scottie offered you his hand. You gave it a firm, decisive shake. 

“Welcome aboard.”

The summer started exactly like Eddie thought it would. You treated the game like it was a joke, spent each session wandering through Scottie’s fictional world like it was one giant amusement park made just for you. 

And it was. It truly was. 

Scottie had rewritten most of his campaign so that he could indulge your every whim. When he found out your character was a thief who had been betrayed and left for dead by her previous companion (a terribly cliched backstory, but Eddie expected no less from someone as inexperienced as you), Scottie created a brand new adventure out of thin air that forced the entire party into the Forest of No Return in search of your old companion’s secret hideout. Then Scottie inserted himself into the party through an NPC named Balon Blacktree, a “ruggedly handsome” (for some reason, Scottie felt the need to stress this) mercenary who would act as your guide through the dangerous and ever-changing woods. 

Scottie sat behind his screen and spoke in a deep, rumbling voice: “You hear a noise overhead—a flutter of wings. Just a bird maybe or, perhaps, something else. You look up but see nothing, only the mangled branches of so many dead trees. The moon, bright and full, hovers just beyond them. It glows with an eerie golden light. It is a witch’s moon.” 

You gasped. “A witch’s moon…” 

Eddie was sitting across from you, watching you respond to Scottie’s narration like a giddy preschooler at storytime. He smushed his cheek against his fist and huffed. “Jesus Christ, Scottie, can you just skip to the action, please?”

Scottie said, “Hey, I’m painting the scene!” 

“Well, paint faster, will ya? It’s been ten minutes already.” 

“Shhh!” you hissed, making Eddie’s face turn red with abashment. “You’re ruining my immersion! Go on, Scottie, tell me about the witch’s moon. It means a witch is near, doesn’t it?”

Scottie smirked, all too pleased to have your full attention. “That it does, sweet Elaria, that it does. An old witch, withered and hunched, lives in these woods. She hunts in them, seeking youth and beauty with a ferocious, insatiable hunger. She saw you enter the forest with your companions, and now she means to claim your vitality for her own. You hear her shrieking laughter rolling through the trees: Hee-hee-hee-hee! It’s close. In fact, it’s right behind you. You spin around, stumbling over your own feet, and you see a great crow, the witch’s familiar, perched upon a branch. It looms over you, staring at you with its black eyes, and in them you see your own frightened reflection…” 

You collapsed against the backrest of your chair, clutching your chest in distress. “Oh my god, my heart’s beating so fast right now!” Your hands flapped frantically while you considered your next action. “Okay, umm, I back away from the crow slowly, my eyes locked with it in terror, and as I go to take my next step, my foot lands on a twig. It makes a loud snap!” 

“The crow takes flight, extending its powerful wings! It lunges at you and slashes at your face with its sharp talons, but it only gets a five to hit.” 

You yelped in surprise and threw your hands over your head. Then: “Wait, which dice do I roll again?”

Eddie heaved a frustrated sigh. “D20 for defense rolls. How do you not know this by now?”

Scottie said, “Dude, relax, she’s still learning.” Then he turned to you with a smile. “You roll the D20, sweetie, and don’t forget to add all your modifiers and stat bonuses.” 

“Again, she should know this by now.” 

“Again, you need to calm the fuck down, Munson. This is her first time playing. Now go ahead, Y/N.” 

This went on for days. While the rest of the party was left to fend for themselves with minimal direction from their Dungeon Master, you and Scottie went off on these long and excruciatingly detailed expeditions that ate up chunks and chunks of precious time. 

In part, Eddie was glad for this because it kept you distracted and allowed him to focus on the game. He didn’t care that each of your turns took twenty minutes, that you constantly needed the rules explained and re-explained to you before you took any action. He didn’t care that your character never seemed to suffer damage or that she effortlessly avoided every trap she stumbled upon and passed every skill check with ease. He didn’t care that she clung to Balon Blacktree’s side during every battle and acted so impressed when he cut down low-level monsters with one swing of his greatsword. Meanwhile, Eddie’s character was single-handedly bringing down hordes of monsters and summoning demons with his dark magic, but Elaria didn’t bat an eye at that… no, that wasn’t worthy of any kind of recognition. 

He didn’t care that you giggled at all of Scottie’s lame jokes, that it was a completely different laugh than the one he always received. It was light and melodic and made your whole face glow with a radiant luster of pure joy. 

He didn’t care that it meant Scottie was totally right when he said, Don’t worry, man. One summer with me, and she’ll never look at you again. 

No, that didn’t bother Eddie at all. 

See, what bothered him, what really got under Eddie’s skin, was that you were always marveling at Scottie and hanging on his every word like he was some master storyteller. Yeah, that did bother him. It bothered him a lot. 

One Sunday, while Eddie was packing up his binder and dice and preparing to head home for the night, you surprised him when you came up and said, “Hey, I’m really sorry for… you know, kind of taking over the whole game. I feel like you guys are getting really bored.” 

Your smile was deeply apologetic, but also a little shy. It brought an unexpected flush to Eddie’s face. 

“Oh, no, that’s… that’s not your fault. Scottie always gets a little carried away when he DMs.” 

“Yeah, he really likes the sound of his own voice, doesn’t he?” 

You started laughing to yourself—a breathy, beautiful laugh—and Eddie felt the dice pouch slip out of his hand. Plop! It landed somewhere by his feet, but he couldn’t bring himself to pick it back up. Instead, he watched you lean against the table and gaze down at Scottie’s forest map, your face softening with an enchanted expression. 

“He’s really talented, though,” you said while tracing your finger over one of Scottie’s hand-painted miniatures. “Like the way he comes up with all these stories and describes every scene so vividly… I feel like I’ve been thrown into a fantasy novel or something.” 

Eddie pursed his lips into a hard, thin line. “Yeah, he’s really something, isn’t he?” 

You looked up at him, your eyes narrow with skepticism. “You don’t think he’s that good.” 

“Huh?” Eddie took a step back, shaking his head. “I - I never said that.”  

“You didn’t have to. I know sarcasm when I hear it.” Then you gasped loudly, as if you had just solved some great mystery. “Oh my god, you think Scottie’s a hack, don’t you?” 

“What? No, I don’t think he’s a hack, I just…” Eddie glanced toward the open door at the top of the stairs; then, lowering his voice, he continued: “He just tends to fall back on the same tired storylines, that’s all. Like the witch in the woods, and the crow, and saving the fair maiden from becoming a virgin sacrifice… He’s recycled that same adventure like fifteen times. I practically have it memorized by now. And after a while, it makes all his campaigns pretty stale, especially when you’ve been playing them for as long as I have.” He reached out and knocked over the miniature you had been admiring. The figure landed on its side and wobbled for a second or two before going still. “Trust me, Scottie’s no wordsmith. I mean… shit, from what I’ve seen, you could probably write a better campaign than he could.” 

“Oh yeah…?” You tilted your head curiously. “Well, what about you?” 

“What about me?”

“Could you write a better campaign?”

Your question caught Eddie off guard. He closed his mouth and thought about it for a minute. “Well, I… I mean, yeah, I definitely could. It’s funny you mention that, actually, because I started working on a campaign last year, but I never got around to finishing it.” 

“Really?” you said. “Why’s that?” 

“Uhh… I dunno, honestly. I guess I just lost inspiration.” Eddie could think of no better way to put it. One day, he simply set down his notebook and never touched it again. “Plus, Scottie doesn’t really let anyone else DM, so there’s basically no point.” 

“Well, that’s too bad,” you said. “I’m curious to see what kinda campaign you’d come up with.” 

Eddie felt his face get warm. What kinda campaign would you like? he almost asked, but the question got stuck in his throat.

You got up and reached for your backpack. “Anyway,” you went on with a nervous flutter, “there’s a second reason I wanted to talk to you. Actually, it’s the main reason I wanted to talk to you, so… here.” 

You handed him a piece of paper. Eddie looked it over, front and back. 

“It’s a character sheet,” he said. “You working on a new character or something?”

“No, it’s for you. See?” You poked the top of the page with your index finger. “It’s for your demon master—you know, the one that your character made an unholy pact with? The source of all your dark power? I made a character sheet for him… or it. Do demons even have genders?” 

Eddie kept staring at the paper, feeling both elated and overwhelmed by its existence. “Uh, I dunno, but… Wait, what is this for, exactly?” 

“Well, last night I was reading The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde because I’ve been on this really weird Gothic literature kick lately—you know, like Frankenstein, The Turn of the Screw, Dracula and, naturally, just about anything by Poe. Anyway, so while I was reading, I started thinking about your character” 

Eddie’s heart jogged. You were thinking about my character? 

“and the demon he made a pact with, and I thought it’d be kinda cool if there was a chance your character could get possessed by that demon for a little while, and he like becomes evil and tries to kill us or something. Then I got weirdly inspired at two in the morning—don’t ask why I was still up at two in the morning—and I made this!” You put your hands on your hips and beamed at him. “So, what do you think?” 

Eddie rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, I…” He didn’t know what to say. Eddie had never given much thought to the demon featured in his character’s backstory, yet in one night you had managed to produce a fully customized character sheet for the creature. It was absolutely… 

“… stupid, isn’t it?” 

(You think my story’s stupid?)

Eddie lowered the paper and looked at you. Your once-brilliant smile had collapsed into a dismal, disheartened frown that seemed… strangely familiar. It brought a pang to Eddie’s chest. 

“You think it’s really stupid, huh?” you said while playing with the frayed hem of your sweater sleeve. “Right… Well, in my defense, I was really sleep deprived when I wrote that. Also, when I get an idea, I sometimes tend to obsess over it, you know? Like I go deep down that rabbit hole like Alice in Wonderland and I do some crazy shit, like writing an extensive and thoroughly researched biography for a character that isn’t even mine.” You opened your mouth to laugh, but nothing came out. “Wow, that sounds even more insane when I say it out loud! You know what, I’ll just take that back and, uh, burn it…” 

You reached for the paper. Eddie pulled it away. 

“You talk a lot,” he said. “Anyone ever tell you that?” 

You shook your head. “No… quite the opposite, actually. Most people think I’m really shy.” 

“Really?” said Eddie. “See, I never got that impression from you.”

A flush of modesty tinged your face. You looked down at your sneakers and responded in a quiet, bashful voice: “Well, that’s… because you’re weird.”

“Yeah,” Eddie said, smiling at you for the first time in his life. He was surprised by how naturally it came to him. “Yeah, that’s probably why.” 

His smile grew. “First of all, don’t ever call your ideas stupid, okay? ‘Cause they aren’t. Second, this is really great. Thank you for taking the time to make this for me. It’s actually very impressive.” 

That made you stand a little taller, a little prouder. You pointed at the page. “See, I even drew a little portrait…” 

“Yeah, I saw that,” Eddie said, amused. “You’re a terrible artist.” 

For that, you gave him a half-hearted shove, giggling as you did. Eddie laughed along with you… until Scott Sloman appeared at the top of the stairs with a VHS tape in his hand. 

“Hey,” he said to you, “you wanna watch some Monty Python?” 

Your whole face scrunched up with discomfort. “Uh, no… I really should be getting home.” You slung your backpack over your shoulder and turned to leave. To Eddie, you said, “I’ll, umm, see you Friday?”

“Yeah… See ya.” A smile tugged at his mouth as he watched you go. Then, when you were halfway up the stairs, he said, “Get some sleep, okay?” and you gave him a look that made his stomach flip. 

“Right,” you said, catching your bottom lip between your teeth. “Yeah, I’ll try…” 

Scottie, blissfully unaware, fluttered a flirtatious farewell as you passed. “Bye-bye now,” he drawled, and once you were gone, he leaned against the doorframe and breathed a dreamy sigh. “Such a delicate flower… Don’t you love it when girls play hard to get?” 

“Not nearly as much as you do,” Eddie said while studying the character sheet you made him. One section in particular had him chuckling. Favorite food: the souls of his victims? Eddie imagined you lying on your bed, half asleep and drooling, as you scrawled away with your pen, and that made this line even funnier. He pushed his face into the paper and snickered. 

“What’s that you got?” Scottie asked, peering over Eddie’s shoulder. 

Eddie pressed the paper flat against his chest. “Hmm? Oh, it’s nothing. It’s just a character sheet.” 

(So why did he feel the need to hide it?)

“Oh?” Scottie said, sounding only mildly interested. “Are you developing a new character for the campaign? Finally retiring that angsty wizard you love so much?”

“He’s not a wizard, he’s a warlock,” Eddie said. “And, uhh… no, this is just something Y/N made.” 

“Y/N made it? For you?” 

“Yeah, I guess.” 

And that’s when Scottie took a huge step back, his lips curling into a Cheshire Cat grin. “Oh boy,” he said, as his eyes sparked to life with devilish glee. “Well, there it is.” 

“There what is?”

“You were wondering why she suddenly wanted to join our campaign, right?” Scottie motioned toward the paper. “Well, there’s your answer, pal. The kid’s got a little crush on you, Munson. Congrats, man, you finally caught one!” 

Laughing, Scottie mashed his palm into Eddie’s short crop of brown hair. Eddie knocked him away. 

“Yeah, okay, very funny…” 

“You don’t believe me? Okay, let’s recap, shall we? Uhh, she’s always around.”

“Like a harbinger of misfortune.” 

“She’s always giggling at you.” 

“Snickering. Cackling.” 

“She, completely out of nowhere, decides she wants to spend her summer in a stuffy basement with us losers instead of hanging out at the pool with all her friends.” 

“I have a theory about that, actually.”  

“Yeah, and I bet it’s as dumb as all your other bullshit theories.” Scottie put his hand on Eddie’s shoulder and said, “Dude, the girl created a character for you. That means she was thinking about you. In our world, that’s practically a love letter.” 

Eddie felt his chest tighten at those words. Scottie frowned and worked up some fake tears. “Awww, she’s gonna be so heartbroken when you leave… Let her down gently, will ya, Munson? They’re so fragile at that age.” 

“Dude, shut up!” Eddie said, and pushed Scottie’s hand away. “She doesn’t like me, okay? Can we please drop it now?” 

“Hey, I’m just as mystified by this as you are, but facts are facts.” 

“I mean, why would she even like me?” 

“Well, it’s definitely not because of your dazzling personality,” Scottie quipped, earning a glare from his best friend. “Look, I dunno, maybe she’s got a thing for socially awkward guitarists with daddy issues. Who cares? It’s a fricken twelve-year-old! Stick that tiny feather in your cap and move on. We’re going to high school, man. The big leagues!” 

“You’ve seen who she hangs out with, right?”

Scottie’s jaw dropped. “Why are we still talking about this? That’s middle school shit, man. We’re past all that now.” 

“All the cheerleaders, all the jocks, Jason Carver…” 

“And what, you think she’s a spy or something? You think Jason Carver sent her here to learn all our nerdy secrets? Listen to me, man: the popular kids don’t give a shit how we spend our summer vacation, okay? We’re just a passing amusement to them, dude, a way to kill time while they wait for school to end. As soon as they walk out those doors, we no longer exist to them, so stop giving them so much of your attention.” 

Eddie went quiet, letting those words sink in for a minute. Then he took a deep breath through his nose and said with absolute confidence, “She doesn’t like me.” 

“Oh my god, again with this…” Scottie put his head between his hands and squeezed. “Okay, fine! You’re right, Munson, she doesn’t like you. In fact, nobody likes you. Why would they? You’re a major downer, a single grey storm cloud in an otherwise sunny sky. There, you happy now?” 

“Yes,” Eddie said, “thank you.” 

“Yeah, you’re welcome,” Scottie said, and made a dismissive motion with his hand. “Now, do you wanna watch Monty Python with me or not?”

Eddie cracked a smirk. “No, I gotta get home.” 

He picked up his dice pouch and tossed it into the open pocket of his backpack. Then he carefully tucked the character sheet into his binder, admiring it for a second before putting it away. On his way out, he said to Scottie, “Oh, by the way, I think I’m gonna try something new with my character at the next session.” 

Scottie stood at the bottom of the stairs, blinking in disbelief. “You, Eddie Munson, wanna try something new?” 

“Yeah,” Eddie said, feeling inspired. “Yeah, I do.”

And that’s when everything changed. Not suddenly, but gradually, naturally, as naturally as the winter snow melts in the spring, as night fades and turns to day. 

No longer was Eddie Munson the one who took the game way too seriously, the one who stuck firmly to the rules and shut down anyone’s attempt to deviate from them, the one who never so much as cracked a smile because that would betray the very essence of his dark and brooding character… Yeah, that guy was long gone, lying at the bottom of the trash bin along with Eddie’s old crumpled-up campaign, and Eddie had no intention of ever digging him out again. 

For the first time in a long time, Eddie was excited about what the future had in store for him. Every day felt like a brand new adventure, full of twists and turns that had him smiling, laughing, gasping, and (sometimes) screaming. 

On Thursday nights, he would barely be able to sleep because he was so eager to wake up the next morning and rush to Scottie’s house… 

to that basement… 

where you were sitting, waiting for him.  

Eddie rested his head on his palm while he watched you update your adventure journal, something you did during every break like it was a homework assignment. The rest of the guys were eating pizza in the kitchen. You and Eddie were supposed to join them a while ago, but neither of you were in a hurry to head upstairs. 

Your lips curled into a smile when you caught Eddie staring at you. “What?” you whispered, as if you weren’t the only two in the room. 

“Nothing,” he said. “I’m just wondering what you write about in that thing.” 

“In this?”

“Yes, in that. I’ve never seen anyone keep such a detailed log.” 

“Oh,” you said. “Is that weird?”

“No, not really. I just never took you for a diary keeper, that’s all.” 

Your nose wrinkled adorably. “Yeah, I’m not. Or not usually, anyway. I’m just trying to keep a record of everything: all the quests my character’s completed, all the people she’s met, funny things she’s witnessed…” Your face darkened all of a sudden, and when you spoke again your voice was small and tight, as if you were struggling to hold something in. “I just don’t wanna forget all this once the campaign’s over, you know?” 

Eddie smirked, thinking he understood. “Well, at the rate we’re going, I don’t think we’ll ever finish this campaign.”

Honestly, he hoped you never did. 

“So,” he went on casually, “have you written anything about me?” 

“Eh, a little… maybe like one page.” 

“One page?” 

“Well, the back of one page.” 

“The back of one page? I don’t even get a full page? Wow, I really need to step up my game, huh? Clearly, my performance isn’t cutting it for you.” 

“Yeah, it really isn’t.” Your smile was teasing but so, so sweet. “You’re not fully committed to your character, Munson. I just don’t feel it, you know? I need more. I need you to completely let yourself go, okay? I wanna see you jumping on chairs, running around, getting in people’s faces…” 

“So, basically, you want me to make an ass of myself.” 

“Oh yes. Always.” You tossed your head to the side and giggled. “I wanna see you totally unhinged, Munson. When you get possessed, I need you to go full Linda Blair with that shit. I wanna see some head-spinning, projectile-vomiting… I could do without the crucifix thing, though, because that would be a touch too explicit for your general audience.” 

Eddie said, “Yeah, I don’t know what any of that means.” 

“Linda Blair? The Exorcist?” 

“Never seen it.” 

“Seriously, you’ve never seen The Exorcist? The greatest horror movie of all time? Well, you know, apart from Night of the Living Dead, but that’s just my personal preference. I love George A. Romero.”

Eddie shrugged. “Yeah, I don’t really like horror movies.” 

“Really?” You sounded genuinely shocked, and a little disappointed. “But you’re so Halloween-themed.” 

“Halloween-themed?” Eddie grimaced. “What the fuck’s that supposed to mean?” 

“Nothing, it’s not an insult or anything… In fact, Halloween just happens to be my favorite holiday.” You nudged Eddie with your elbow, and he pulled away. That made you go quiet for a second, sulking like a child who just got scolded for something they didn’t know was wrong. “It’s just, I dunno, you’ve got this whole Prince of Darkness vibe going on. Naturally, I always assumed—”

“I’m Eddie Munster,” Eddie said with a sneer, “so I must be obsessed with horror movies, right?” 

“Hey, don’t put words in my mouth, okay? I didn’t say that. And just for the record, I’ve never bought into the whole ‘Eddie Munster’ thing, anyway. It’s a lazy joke, and it doesn’t even make that much sense. You don’t look a thing like Eddie Munster. He’s got that crazy widow’s peak and he’s a werewolf, which always kinda confused me, if I’m being honest. Like, his mom is Dracula’s daughter and his dad is one of Frankenstein’s monsters… How do genetics even work in that universe? Like, is his mom also part werewolf? Is lycanthropy a recessive gene? These are the kinda questions that keep me up at night.” 

You were going off on another tangent. Eddie patiently waited for you to find your way back; and once you did, your eyes went straight to him. 

“My point is, Eddie Munster’s a very stupid nickname. Whoever thought that one up is seriously lacking brain cells.” 

The corner of your mouth rose into a half-humorous smile, causing Eddie’s stony gaze to soften and glow with adoration. He sat there for a while, spellbound and speechless, and when his voice finally returned, it blurted out a question that startled you both. 

“Why are you here?” he asked, and you drew back a little, your brows knitted together in confusion. 

“You’re… popular,” he went on, “and you play volleyball and—”

“So because I play volleyball, I’m automatically a jock or something?” You scoffed at that, your mouth hanging open in wry amusement. “I’m on the gold team, Eddie, the worst team. We’re basically a bunch of rejects that would’ve gotten cut if there had been actual tryouts. My parents thought it’d be good for me to join a sport, so I picked volleyball because… why not? And it’s kinda fun, I guess. We almost beat the white team once. It was almost this huge upset.” 

“Wow,” Eddie said, “I’m almost impressed,” and that made you laugh for a minute, but only for a minute.

“I’m not popular,” you said, “not even a little. My best friend, Chris, she’s the popular one. She’s the one everyone wants, and I’m just her carry-on luggage. And yeah, I guess that gets me a seat at the lunch table, but that doesn’t exactly make me part of the club. Her friends aren’t my friends. They hardly even talk to me. Chris could drop me tomorrow if she wanted, and then I’d be eating lunch alone.” You winced a little as you said this, then hung your head and sighed. “I’m not popular, Munson, but it’s very flattering you think I am… I mean, at least I have somebody fooled, right?” 

You picked up your pencil and flipped to a new page. The resulting silence made Eddie’s chest hurt. 

“You wouldn’t have to eat alone,” he said, and saw your hand pause in mid-stroke. “There’s always an open seat for you at our table.” 

A faint, melancholy smile touched your lips. “Yeah, but you won’t be there.” 

Eddie drew in a quiet breath. As he looked at you now, you seemed so far away.

“Oh, right,” he said. “Yeah, I almost forgot.” 

Now all of Scottie’s jokes made a little more sense. (Let her down gently, will ya, Munson?) Now all of your diligent note-taking made a little more sense. For the longest time, Eddie thought you were just being overly sentimental about your first campaign, but that wasn’t it at all, was it? No, you were preparing for the end. Immortalizing your last campaign. 

The last campaign you two would ever play together. 

“You should go eat,” you said to him in a stuffy voice. “I’ll be up in a little bit.”

It’s amazing, the amount of clarity that comes with heartbreak. This dawned on Eddie Munson now, as he sat alone on the dirty floor of the women’s restroom. Here I am once again, getting ready to move on to the next stage of my life, and all I can think about is how badly I wanna stay with you.

Eddie’s hands closed around the bundled fabric of his jacket. It smelled a little like you now. 

I shouldn’t have walked up those stairs. I should’ve stayed down there with you and told you to fuck off when you tried to force me to leave. I should’ve told you that you had nothing to worry about. That I wasn’t gonna forget about you once I went to high school. I should’ve told you a lot of things that day, but I didn’t. You told me to leave, and I left. I walked up those stairs and I ate that cold, shitty pizza while you sat down there all alone… probably crying your eyes out. I was fourteen and an idiot. I’m still an idiot, but at least I have the balls to admit I like you now. 

And if you think I’m not about to get up and go running after you… well, then you’re an even bigger idiot than I am.

_____________________

PREV // CURRENT // NEXT

[houseofhyde]

aemond doesn't know...

pairing. modern!aegon targaryen x fem!reader

synopsis. ...that aegon and you do it in his van every sunday.

warnings. modern au, fuckbuddy!aegon, best friend!aemond, artist!aemond, drummer!aegon, light angst, smut (p in v, creampie, hair pulling, light anal play (?), use of slut.)

word count. 1.5k

hyde’s input. happy valentines, guys, gals and whores! <3 i was supposed to be posting a daemon smut but i got sidetracked bc scotty doesn't know by lustra came on shuffle and, well, my mind is hyperactive. my attraction to aegon is purely fueled by the fact i've been attracted to tom glynn carney since dunkirk. not completely comfortable writing for him yet though, so i may end up restricting myself to only writing modern aus when it comes to aegon. fic has not been edited!!

taglist. i've chosen not to tag anyone as this is the first time i'm posting for this character and am unsure who on my taglist is comfortable reading aegon fics.

let’s get one thing clear: you are not dating aemond targaryen.

sure, he walks you to class every morning despite his own being on the other end of campus; and drags himself out of bed at one, two, three in the morning to pick you up on the nights you work the closing shift. and, ok, he brings you out for lunch, and dinner, and home for the holidays. sure, he’s filled sketchbooks with drawings of you, he’s skipped out on lectures just to clean vomit out of your hair and last-nights make-up off your face, he’s almost stolen a handful of picture-perfect kisses beneath mistletoes and sunsets.

but, he’s never made his move.

so aegon feels no remorse for his love-struck brother as he rips off the red lace panties that conceal his latest best friend.

she’s always there for him, waiting with open arms- between open legs- and offering the warmest of hugs for his cock. she’s pretty and clean and tastes like a tangy peach, just a little too ripe but perfect for his liking.

“hey there sweetheart,” his voice, bouncing off the walls of the overheating vehicle, coos over his own excitement. she’s hard to resist, dribbling with sticky sweetness, and aegon swears- he swears!- that she winks at him, taunting him to slip inside to the promised land. “hmm, what’s that, darling? i missed you too.”

“would you stop talking to my pussy like it’s a person and hurry up!” and there you are to burst his bubble, on all fours with your skirt flipped up over your (in aegon’s opinion) perfectly shaped ass and trying oh so hard to not comment on the mess of empty beer cans and fast food wrappers and miscellaneous parts of a drum-set that occupy the unholy grounds of the back of aegon’s van.

“don’t listen to her, sugarplum,” you’d cringe at his choice of pet-name, were it not for the fact the insufferable bastard’s leaning down to press a kiss on your rear-cheeks, peaceful pecks concluded with the lewd- and unexpectedly intriguing- drag of his tongue over your asshole. you lurch forward, stopped only by the grasp of his hands on your hips. “she’s just jealous of what we have, always trying to get between us.”

he’s a cruel torturer, a sadist who gets a kick out of making you squirm and cry and ache for his touch. maybe it’s about the power it gives him, to see you so pliant and needy for naught but him. or perhaps it’s a point he’s needing to prove, to curse that stuck up little brother of his who’s always making comments on the women he choses to indulge himself him.

oh, what he’d give to have aemond stumble upon this scene of him, the puppet master, and you, the poor thing on a string, mouth dropping open in a quiet plea as aegon toys his thumb over your puckered hole, an unspoken threat to fill it before he so much as touches your soaked cunt.

“aegon, please!”

“hmm, i seriously need to get a recording of you saying that,” you don’t need to look over your shoulder to know he’s grinning like the cat that got the cream. nevertheless, you look, and what a sight he is: eyes more black than blue, hair a messed crown upon his head, hardened nipples the prettiest shade of blush pink. unlike you, he’s shamelessly nude for anyone to see, dare they stumble too close to the rocking van. “make it my ringtone, or put you on our debut record.”

you’ve no real clue who our encompasses, though you guess it’s whatever recent mediocre band the targaryen boy’s landed himself in.

the same band aemond keeps saying he needs to take you to see, a so called night-of-laughter you need away from all those assignments and exams that keep getting in the way of your designated best friend dates.

“you’re so gross,” your words clash with your actions, arching your back and further presenting him with where you need him most.

“oh, but you love it.”

and you do, you really do.

you love how aegon fills you, slow at first to “get your pretty kitty stretched”, and all at once after he’s got the first few inches in, no warning before the head of him brutishly knocks against your cervix. you love the groaning and moaning and utter bullshit that finds it’s way out of his cushioned lips, whines of so tight and praises of you take me so fucking well, baby. you love how he talks you through it, voice a gentle whisper of encouragement from the moment the took your virginity till even now, months and several more encounters later. you love that he plays you like an instrument, skillful with the move of his fingers and careful with the pressing of your buttons.

“yeah, like it from this angle, don’t you? like to take me nice and deep,” he’s spewing out behind you, fucking into you at a speed that’s got not only you whining but the van too. “what a pretty little slut i’ve made out of you.”

you hate that he’s aegon. dirty, slimy, enemy/big brother to your best friend, aegon. you hate that it would crush aemond to know this is how you’re spending your sunday, cramped in the back of his brother’s van as he defiles you from behind. you hate that you keep coming back.

“what’d you tell him this time, huh?” like he’s reading your mind, aegon questions you, words slurring together in the haze of lust, no need to name the man you both know unites you as much as he divides you. “where’ds he think you are?”

“ch-aah,” the word is lost among the slapping of skin and the cry of sheer terrified pleasure you feel as he reaches so deep you’re almost sure you feel him in your guts, arms giving out beneath you and leaving you pressed face first into the floor. “church! he, he thinks i’m in church.”

“if he’s thinking you’re on your knees,” aegon’s words fall upon deaf ears as the cord begins to tighten in your lower stomach, threatening to snap any second and leave you to fall into the pits of pleasure. “he’s not entirely wrong.”

he doesn’t need to be told when or how to touch you, he just knows, and so it’s no surprise when the rough pads of aegon’s fingers rub over your aching clit. the euphoric feeling of the tough skin dancing over your buzzing bundle of nerves and his cock, pulsating and raw, fucking into you over and over and over, molding a home for itself within your tight cunt, it’s all too much.

“c’mon, pretty girl, you can do it.” he’s so encouraging, so supportive as his free hand tangles itself in your hair, swift with the way it’s pulling you up till your back hits his chest. “give me what i want, go on. cum on my cock, pretty please baby.”

you do as he commands, mouth dropping open in a cry of ecstasy heard only by you, aegon and the walls that make up his beaten van. he’s not far behind, thrusts turning sloppy in the final moments as he fights through the squeeze of your orgasm before he’s spilling inside of you, head burrowed in the crook of your neck to stiffle the pathetic whimpers born from the feeling of stuffing you full of his cum till it’s dripping out of you and onto the floor, joining the rest of the mess.

“shh, shh, atta girl.” the press of his lips against your forehead is grounding, soothing you just as much as the stroke of his hands over your thighs as you crash back against him, energy drained and muscles aching. aegon’s no better, heart running at the speed of a stallion and skin burning hot red from the unbearable heat. “that’s it, you’re good. i’ve got you.”

as it always goes, you pull away first.

you fight back a discomforted frown as the emptiness hits you, what remains of his spend inside of you now dripping out to the surface of your slit. neither of you talk as you clean yourselves up, him tugging his clothes back on and you checking just how badly your makeup has smudged.

it's worse than any walk of shame, really, this stifling silence that fills the space between you as he sparks up the engine and begins the drive back.

“this can’t happen again.” it’s only once you’ve stepped out the door that you speak, hand resting on the handle and eyes focusing anywhere than his hands on the stearing wheel, the same hands he’d had burried between your thighs less than an hour before.

“you said that the last time.”

“i mean it!” you don’t. “this is the last time, aegon.” it’s not.

you only make it halfway up the path to the door of your house till he’s honking his horn and rolling his window down.

“i’ll see you same time next week, yeah?”

“fuck you!” and, yet, you smile.

“can’t wait, sweetheart!”

[droopycoquette]

LETITIA WRIGHT FIC RECS!!!

Just a list of Shuri, Jamie, Scotty, and Letitia fics that touched me in all the right places. Some of these didn't have names or summaries so I gave them titles or summarized them. ENJOY!!!

|*|

SHURI

Want You Extensively(Part 1) by @inmyheadimobsessed

Summary: you and shuri broke up, and you're trying to get over her (not really). shuri makes it exceedingly hard to do so.

Warnings: angst, jealousy, possessive!shuri, slight public smut(18+), fluff, wakanda forever spoilers

Word count: 5k

//

Knew I'd Always Come Crawling back by @inmyheadimobsessed

Summary: a question looms in the air: will you and shuri make it to your dinner reservation on time, if at all?

Warnings: just pure smut & filth (18+), thigh riding, strap!shuri, multiple orgasms, oral, fingering, overstimulation, slight praise!kink, fluff at the end because romance is real!

Word count: 4.3k

//

When I Had The Chance by @haechvn

Summary: You get hurt by Namor 

Warnings: Angst. M!rder. Dark!Shuri. Glory. I think. A little Smut. Shuri is sick of this shit.

Word count: 1k

//

Marry Me by @justariellove

Summary: After the loss of everything Shuri decides to take it out on you. Resulting in her almost losing you for good. 

Warnings: fluff, angst

Word Count: Medium

//

Don't Play With Me, Princess by @haechvn

Summary: Shuri being jealous

Warnings: JEALOUS!SHURI. TOP!SHURI. VIBRANIUM STRAP!SHURI. SHURI IS A MUNCHARTD. SHURI SMUT. NOTHING MORE NOTHING LESS. FACEFUCKING. SHURI LIKES TO BE CALLED QUEEN/YOUR HIGHNESS. THAT'S ALL.

Word Count: 1.3k

//

Smoking Weed With Shuri by @haechvn

Summary: Headcanon

Warnings: None

Word Count: .6k

//

All Up In You're Mind by @inmyheadimobsessed

Summary: you think shuri doesn't notice you. cute first kiss 

Warnings: fluff

Word count: .6k

//

I'm Not Trying To Seduce You by @rayrayvan

Summary: The honeymoon phase

Warnings: fluff

Word count: Short

//

Caught by @writingintheshadowsforever

Summary: You get caught

Warnings: fluff, suggestive content

Word Count: Short

//

Your Spark Got Lazy by @inmyheadimobsessed

Summary:  shuri misses your birthday dinner because she's too caught up in her work, things ensue

Warnings: hurt/comfort (if you squint), smut (18+)

Word Count: 1.8k

//

Diary by @ppawmpkin

Summary: You leave your diary in Shuri's lab

Warnings: fluff

Word Count: medium

//

Nosy by @starsvck

Summary: You want to learn from Shuri

Warnings: Fluff

Word Count: short

//

Impromptu Lazy Day by @tchhairbandhere

Summary: clingy shuri wants to spend the day with you doing absolutely nothing. fluff on fluff on fluff~

Warnings: fluff

Word count: short

//

Plushie by @writingintheshadowsforever

Summary: Shuri finds you asleep with a black panther plushie

Warnings: Fluff

Word count: medium

//

Off To Bed Little One by @rayrayvan

Summary: It's time for bed for your little one

Warnings: Fluff, Mom!Shuri x Mom!fem!reader

Word Count: short

//

Kidnapped by @nexusnyx

Summary: You were kidnapped by Namor, sending Shuri into a grateful fit

Warnings: violence, kidnapping, fluff, friends to lovers, protective!shuri, soft ending

Word Count: 2k

//

Can't Help It If You're Bored by @tchhairbandhere

summary: Y/n was simply bored, time to do something unnecessary and mildly chaotic in Shuri’s lab just because she can.

Warnings: Fluff

Word Count: .8k

LETITIA

Feelings(Part 1) by @ventingfanfics

Summary: You're bestfriend is having relationship problems

Warnings: fluff, angst

Word count: medium

[alexiavettel]

Fear is made of ice

there’s a thin layer of ice between love and hate

pairing: lance stroll x fem!reader (au) 

word count: 8.3k+

summary: Montreal is basically the hockey capital, but for you? An ice figure skater? That’s your city, not the hockey’s guys. That has been a thing for years and years, which is more important, cool and remarkable? Most of the time hockey is the people's favourite but not for you, who spend too many years of your childhood training to be the best. Let’s say that money was never a problem, your family is one of the richest in the country and you were fortunate to receive so much support from them. But there’s the thing, you grew up with the Stroll family, basically the same conditions, same picture-perfect family but you and Lance have never been eye to eye. A stupid rivalry that kept up to today’s days, an ice skater and a hockey player, what a cliché. But these were until your skiing accident, when everything seemed too real…

warnings: explicit language, frenemies to lovers, near-death experience, near-death description, no use of y/n, cheating ex, from Lukov with love reference, poor use of hockey slangs, Claire-Anne Stroll being a distant mother (pls i know she isn’t but it’s part of the plot), Montreal Canadiens is the best one here okay (leave them alone), childish rivalry (they love each other), bit of anger issues resulting in a panic attack, Chloe and Scotty (cause i'm a sucker for them and they deserve a warning of their own), you are Scotty’s sister in this imagine (but it’s not really important and here he's canadian), alcoholic beverages, driving after drinking (pls don’t do it).

January- 2021

There was a day at the end of last year when you had a huge fight with your (now) ex-boyfriend ‘cause you found out that he was cheating on you with his own cousin, and decided to go skiing by yourself to let some anger out and think about the situation more freely. And let’s say that too much alcohol and skiing isn’t such a good combination, which resulted in a terrible accident.

You still remember trying to dig out but your fingers wouldn’t move at all, the suffocating and hyperventilating, the snow feeling like concrete, you remember feeling panicked, but also incredibly helpless. What a humiliating way to die huh? There was absolutely nothing you could do. The last thing in your mind, before it all went black, was the excruciating pain in your ankle.

When you woke up in the hospital your brother Scott was by your side, sleeping, but at least you weren’t alone right? He told you that he got a call from the hospital and they told him that an unknown skier had found and saved you. He asked you what happened and well… your ex got a restraining order on your brother.

The hardest part to hear was that you broke your ankle… one month before the winter tournament, you would lose this opportunity but you can handle yourself, you can handle the pain and the hard trainings you’ll have to do after all this, the problem is: Lukov, your skating partner and your childhood best friend.

Lukov is going to be alone this season and even tho he says everything is fine, you know it isn’t. He doesn’t have a partner, so you promised him that you would find someone. But you could never find someone with the same connection as you guys have, but with the same experience… Yeah, there was someone. The problem is that the only girl that can be a good partner for your best friend, is your enemy’s sister.

Chloe is the kindest human you ever met and one of the best ice skaters too. But she’s glued to the hip with her not-so-kind brother, Lance. And there’s where your desire to help Lukov die a little bit, to convince one Stroll you have to convince the other. And that will be painful, but since you were the inconsequent one and got yourself hurt you kinda owe your dear partner that. 

•

“Oh my god, yes! I was dying to participate in this tournament but since they only accept pairs and y’know that after Elliott had gone back to Europe I haven’t got time to get a new partner. That would be actually perfect- like- I mean- I’m so sorry for your accident and I hope you get well soon” she simply blurted all out and smiled nervously in the end

“Yeah I got the cake you sent me and by the way thank you but I’m already good. And thank you so much for accepting the offer, I know that me and Lu always had this rivalry with you and Elliott in the competitions but you know how much I admire you”

“Don’t worry babes. But I’m going to be honest with you, even tho this is good for both of us I promised my brother that I would train with him since I didn’t plan on competing this season…” Oh great “I know you guys are not besties. Still, I need you two to give it a try, ‘cause I don’t want to disappoint either of you so I’m sure he’s going to understand me. But are you capable of it?”

“Pff for sure, I don’t like him but we can tolerate each other just for some training sessions…”

No, we can’t.

•

“Your posture is terrible, is actually impressive that you can skate with that awful balance” how is this man a hockey player?

“Ow shut-”

“About it girl, forgot to tell you how he is the “all muscles no brain” type” Chloe said smiling

“What muscles?”

“Hey I have much more than you” he flexed his arm clearly offended 

“That’s what you said last night” you said smirking at his angry expression

“So I’m gonna let you two alone, love you both and don’t kill each other!”

Was always like this, you and Lance bickering over everything, Chloe trying to stop you both (until she got tired and started ignoring) and your brother saying that you two should just admit the unsaid love.

After Chloe left the silence was weird. Had been quite some time since you two spoke last, it was probably a discussion but it was at Christmas two years ago. Your families have this tradition, one year Christmas is on yours and the other on Stroll’s, it’s almost cool if it wasn’t for the talks about hockey and figure skating.

“You know you don’t actually have to “help” me, right?” 

“I don’t want to but first: I’m not gonna disappoint your sister ‘cause she’s helping me so fucking much and second: you kinda need it, your posture is really terrifying I’m surprised you didn’t already hurt yourself”

“You still a bitch-”

“What do you thought would change that?”

“Since you were soo busy “out studying” last years’ Christmas”

“Did you missed me, pretty boy?” you said finally putting on your ice skates and giving him some pats on his hair

“Fuck you” he laughed

“I was actually out studying asshole, was in Germany preparing for the Winter Olympics”

“Do you really got to participate for Canada?” he asked while you were crossing through the ice rink

“Yeah, me and Lukov”

“Wow that’s incredible”

“Don’t be so surprised, Lance. I’m the best and Lu is the best, we obviously got it” you said pretending to be unbothered and attempting to do a single axel, but the landing was poor.

“Well, I’m sure you're not at your best right now…Are you even sure you can skate? You should be more careful”

“You are the one telling me this? Really? The boy who hurt himself karting and two days after is in a hockey game and being a total bender?” 

“At least I could compete- Ouch” he couldn't finish ‘cause you got his lumber and slapped him with it to shut him down.

“Fix your damn back, Quasimodo! And those ankles!” you started hitting in the right places until he fix it.

•

You had come to the rink quite early to have some time for yourself, your physio is giving you a hard time in this recovery. Even with your overworked muscles and stabbing pain, the only thing in your mind is dance. This is your coping method, always has been. Angry? Dance. Happy? Dance. Sad? Dance.

You were in the middle of a spiral when you almost had a heart attack after seeing Lance seated on the bench, watching you intensely. 

“Shit! You scared the shit out of me Stroll!” you recomposed yourself and started crossing to get to him 

“It’s not my fault you are too deaf to not hear me coming in, ring rat”

“Rink rat? Me? You are the one who used to expel the little kids when you wanted to train in public!”

“This was years ago!”

“Still”

An uncomfortable silence settled before he said calmly:

“Your problem was in your ankle but your knees aren’t straight enough when you do your spiral…”

“I know. Thanks for confirming I’m not crazy tho, I was on the verge of filming to see my form”

“If you need help I can do it y’know?” Did you hear that right?

“You can do a spiral?”

“No dumbass, I can help you with it!”

“Do you plan on breaking my leg while doing it? Why are you offering help?”

“Because you clearly need… And ‘cause you’re helping me with my posture…”

“Seems suspicious…”

“First: That’s what you said last night. Second: let’s make a deal! We can train together since I need to practise my attack and you need to come back being good”

“That’s your attempt to convince me?” You deadpanned 

“You know what I mean! And could you please go to my next game? I can help you with your routine since you don't have Lukov at the moment!”

“Why would I go to your game?”

“It’s a bet! Since your last discussion with Chris, they bet that you wouldn’t come back this year” Chris is funny but he’s the type of guy that thinks only about hockey and sex.

“And let me guess! You were the only one to bet on me, ‘cause you thought that you could convince me-”

“Yeah!”

“What would you win?”

“Beer, your favourite one by the way!” How does he know your favourite type of beer? Maybe from all the dinners? You don’t know.

“Okay then”

“For real?”

“Yeah, even if it hurts to admit I could use some help…”

•

“You gonna play as a goalie eh?”

“I swear to god that if you hit that fucking rubber in me I’m gonna kill you!”

“Calm down, sweetheart. Just got to practise some breakaways for tomorrow’s game” he giggled while helping you put the protections on

“You gonna pay all my food tomorrow if I hurt myself with this”

You did quite well actually, were able to stop some of it with your arms and legs, even if it got you a purple bruise near your shoulder. In the end, you both were too tired to talk while taking off your protections. 

“I have to be honest, I underestimated your little game”

“That’s what you said last night! But I knew you always had done that! I told Scott but he didn’t believed me!”

“Looks like an easy sport, what can I do? Why would I care about it?”

“Your dancing looks very much easy, little one”

“Let’s see that after tomorrow”

•

“You are trying to kill yourself? You dumb bitch!” you said while putting a cotton pad in his nose because this idiot got himself hurt fighting another player.

“He insulted me!” he whined

“And what are you? A kid? You’re so fucking immature, that could’ve cost your team the game!”

“Y’know… for someone that says about “not caring” about hockey you’ve got pretty heated in the grandstand”

“You make me want to break your nose” you whispered while picking up another pad.

“I’m pretty much sure I saw you screaming at the referee” he was looking up into your eyes with a smirk on his lips.

“He almost gave your mate a penalty for nothing. What did you expected me to do?”

“You are something else, you know that?” he did not contain his laugh this time and you just hummed.

“I want a juice” you thought out loud after the talk has quieted down and finished cleaning his nose with a wet tissue.

“Let’s get one then” he jumped and picked up your hand on the way walking to the convenience store.

You went completely silent, by his action but went with it.

“Orange or strawberry?” you chose and he paid.

“You didn’t had to pay for it-” you started saying, going back to your usual ice rink.

“I promised”

“That didn’t hurt”

“You have a purple spot” he contested you while opening the front door for you.

“That’s what you said last night! And it’s nothing compared to your nose”

“He got the worse, honey” he joked sitting in the grandstand near your stuff.

“You are something else, Stroll”

“Wanna play something?” he uttered suddenly.

“Like what?” you asked, sipping your juice, desiring for only a second that would be something stronger. 

“Truth or drink!”

“We have literally juices, Lance”

“So I’m gonna get us some beers, wait a second” What the actual fuck is happening was your thought while he was away.

“You want to ask me something boy?”

“No! I swear!”

“Hmm looks sus for me”

“Then you can go first”

“Why did you put so much faith in your team at the beginning if they were shit?”

“I felt it, I think. Why is Lukov your partner?”

“I felt it, I think” he gave you a death glare after you laughed at his question “He always had been there you know? We met on his first day here, the poor boy didn’t know how to properly speak in Russian let alone English or French so I helped with it-”

“Do you speak Russian?!” he was astonished

“No, but I helped him learn English and defended him from some dumb kids. When I think of me I think of Lukov. My childhood, adolescence, and every moment of my life he was there with me and for me. We always had this crazy connection and I am so fucking lucky to have found him…”

“When I was younger I thought you guys were a thing…” he silently gulped his beer

“WHAT-”

“I know! But don’t blame me you used to look like a couple, still do actually”

“It’s for the act! We need to have chemistry!”

“Still, every time you two are competing looks like you are about to kiss each other in the middle of everyone”

“Are you jealous, Stroll?” you lean over him smirking before laughing.

“Fuck you is your time!”

“‘M out of creativity, you go again”

“Okay… What were you actually doing in the last two years?”

“Germany I told you”

“If you not gonna actually tell me then drink-”

“I’m telling you! I was practising”

“But Lukov only had gone after you last year” You stop to think if you should actually tell him the truth 

“I was thinking about competing alone… But after two weeks I gave up!’

“Why did you thought that was a good idea?” He sipped his beer and you noticed yours had ended.

“Was afraid if I was keeping Lu in the sport against his will… We haven’t got first place in quite some time so I got paranoid. I always thought that he stayed because of me since I kind of depended on him and the other way around. But then we had a discussion and we understood each other. Now everything’s good!”

“Okay… It’s your turn”

"Have you always wanted to be a hockey player?"

"No... I’ve always wanted to try being a Formula 1 driver, I really love the sport"

"And you don't love hockey?..." 

"I learned to"

He passes you one of the bottles, ice cold and sweating, and as weird as it can sound the silence was painful but reassuring at the same time.

You opened your mouth then shut it again before saying "I hated skating at first... Thought it was boring, preferred volleyball in high school"

"Why did you stayed?"

"Why did you?"

"I asked it first" he smirks

"Even if skating is boring, dancing is amazing, I always loved it. It's art, it's a wonderful way to express yourself... And that's what I do. Oh and obviously if it wasn't my dad convincing me, I would be on a really different path right now"

"Pfft if it wasn't for my mother I would've never put my feet in an ice rink. But seeing her around at least for my games made it all the effort worthy, every time I see my dad smiling when I or Chloe win something it feels better than winning the prize actually"

"I think if it weren't for our families we would never even meet"

"And you would love that, right?"

"I don't think so, to be honest. Let's say that you changed a lot of things about me, things that I like now"

"Are you okay? Have you been cloned?" he touched your forehead to feel your temperature

"Don't be a dick now, for once please" you doe-eyed him

"Even saying please... I need to take you out drinking more times, huh?"

"Asshole-"

"That's it! That's my girl!" He laughs loudly.

“That’s what you said last night” You couldn’t contain yourself.

"But since you are being honest for once. You changed things in me too. I think I'm one of the best players in the world because of you..."

"Wow! Are you drunk already? Didn't think it would only take one beer to do that!" He gave you a playful punch in your arm.

"No, but honestly, you made me competitive. At the end of last season, like in the last game, the pressure was all up and I couldn't think straight but I saw you with Scott and Chloe in the audience and I clearly remember thinking how much you would roast me if I lose in the end"

“See I’m the best and I don’t even need to try” You laughed while he began to run after you threatening to pour his beer out in your hair.

•

“Nooo I’m hungover” he mourned when you pushed him inside.

“You were the one that made us drink yesterday plus you promised me” You started stretching.

“Okay, what do I do?”

“Well, since you barely can stand in a blade you’ll just gonna help giving me the impulse”

“Hey! I’ve watched your routines I can keep up with it” dear god

“Just do what I say, Stroll. Do you at least know the names?” the way he smiled gave you the answer.

“I know what an axel is. I’ve seen you doing it before”

You proceeded to explain to him the basic stuff, like the six main jumps (axel, salchow, toe loop, loop, flip and lutz) and your long program, which is the one you’re having more trouble with since the step sequence is harder.

“Oh my god are you okay?” he came running to you after you’ve done a perfect hydroblade 

“Yes? It’s part of the program Lance” This is going to be harder than you thought…

“Okay, so you don’t need help with the loop jump but need it with the triple salchow?”

“Yes, you’ll need to swirl my waist and support me with the landing eh?”

He tried to do what you said but it took a few times until he got right. He was so scared of dropping or even touching you that he forgot to help you land. On the 12th try probably, he almost got perfect. The rotation in the air, slightly less than 360 degrees was just on point.

“You did this on instinct, right?” you say after doing a spiral, that doesn’t hurt your ankle anymore.

“Yes?...” Lance said as he scratched the back of his neck.

“Then try to synchronise with me”

“What? No! Have you gone mad? It’s too dangerous!”

“I know what I am doing, just trust yourself. My type of dance is based on trust and connection. I trust you enough to know that you’ll not let me fall and you have to trust me that I’m not trying something crazy. That’s already a type of connection, so follow my lead”

You showed him your and Lukov's most basic program but that included a lot of sync so it would be good to practice. He almost knocked you two down the ice twice before he got in the way and let’s say he wouldn't be a bad figure skater.

When the fourth try ended, it was perfect. He followed your steps gracefully, your feet in complete sync, he gave you the perfect amount of impulse when needed and the warmth provided from your bodies proximity was incredible. It was different than with Lukov, obviously. Your teammate is one of the best skaters in the world alongside you but the way your bodies connected as they were made for each other was weird but not a bad weird… A good one.

“Lukov and Chloe’s first round is tomorrow,” you blurted all out when you noticed how close your faces are, noses almost touching and his eyes burning into yours “we can’t lose it!” you finally were able to pull away from his firm grip on your waist, as you feel your cheeks burning. 

“Uh, s-sure. They would kill us if we don’t go” he said, going to his stuff to drink something.

“You are great, y’know?! I mean, apart from looking constipated in the beginning like you have never touched a woman. You did an incredible job!” You stated in a low voice trying to regain your composure and got out of the rink with a hockey stop making him get ice in all his clothes.

“You look like you are about to fall anytime, what did you want me to do?” he says, taking away the ice while rolling his eyes.

“No, but for real. You did great. Your instinct is gonna take you really far…” you praise him while taking your skates off.

“You’re more flexible now, have you been practising outside of here?”

“Yeah, my coach is making me work harder than when I prepare for competitions”

“Don’t overwork yourself” he advises you before you coincidently almost trip over his bag “Careful there, girl” you hiss “Can I take a look at your ankle?”

“Sure” You sit down next to the bench where he is and Lance picks up your leg and starts to undress it near your foot.

“Your coach saw how swollen it is?” he started massaging delicately.

“F-Fuck” you hiss again “No, she hasn’t! It gets like this after a hard training session. It's okay, really. In less than two hours is going to be new” you tried to get your leg off his lap but he just scooted over even more.

“So you’re telling me your ankle gets this swollen every time you train?” His suspicious eyes got you right away, years of convivence and growing up together unfortunately get you to know each other better. Too much better, sometimes.

“No-“

“Don’t lie! You are overworking your ankle!” His eyes were always this piercing?

“Your words, not mine!- Ouch!” He squeezed one nerve harder making you wish for death.

“We are going to stop training if you keep up with that! You got me?” he was damn serious about it.

“What are you? My dad?” 

“Wrong answer” he squeezed that damn nerve again “You understand me?”

“Yeah, Lance. Can you let me go now?”

“Not this early, darling. We gotta wrap it up” he gave your leg a weak tap before getting up and getting an elastic bandage. “You need to be more careful, for real. It’s too fucking dangerous, you plan to be back at competing no? What if it gets worse?” you could notice the genuine concern in his eyes, it almost made you feel bad for not taking enough care of yourself.

“I didn’t mean to… I just want to be at my best again. I finally got a place in the Olympics and now what? I mess up my entire fucking life because of-”

“Why were you there? Why were you skiing alone on Thanksgiving?”

“Jeremy cheated on me. I came back early to make him a surprise and he was fucking his own cousin in my house, in my room, in my fucking bed” You could feel the tears threatening to fall “How disgusting this can be? Oh, and I found out later that he was trying to get in my dad’s company. He always tried to pull me away from the family’s business, just so he could get near my place?” your blood started to boil again.

“H-Hey-” he tried to get your attention but it was all in the rage, all the pain from being such an idiot.

“I was fucking mad! I was furious, Lance! I was such a fucking idiot! A little son of a bitch can cost me my career because I let him! I let him see all the versions of me, all my sides, my emotions, my scars, my traumas, everything! I let myself be vulnerable and he took advantage of it ‘cause I let him! And I am so fucking stupid to let my rage and pain take hold of me and I almost died for it!-” he hugged you.

You didn’t felt when he moved your leg from the way and got closer to you. You could feel his breath on your neck and his shirt getting wet from the warm tears that had escaped your eyes. The comfort is weird. You never expected comfort from Lance Stroll’s embrace. It feels like he understands you, maybe he is not that bad.

“I am here” he flattened your shirt while patting your hair gently “I always have- Always will…” he indeed was always there, even if in the wrong circumstances. You two stayed like that for much longer than you could count properly. 

It feels good, it feels right, it feels like home. But it shouldn’t. You try to remember all the reasons why you should hate him, all fights and discussions the multiple times he made you crazy, but nothing comes to mind.. Nothing, nothing but a pure childish rivalry. 

“Thank you, Lance…” You sniffed trying to hide your face from him, but he pulled it up with his finger in your chin.

“You don’t need to thank me. And you’re not the wrong one. You just thought you could trust someone you loved, that’s perfectly normal. He’s the motherfucker here. And honestly? He’s such a fucking idiot for losing you.” he cleans away your tears with his thumbs. 

“You don’t have to compliment me just ‘cause I’m crying”  you chuckled.

“I’m not complimenting you, just saying the truth. He is the biggest asshole I know, and such a dumb one for letting you go. Considering how picky you are with relationships, he was lucky you even gave him a chance.”

“I’m not picky” you pout.

“You literally rejected everyone who asked you to proms in school, and that includes basically all the football team” he deadpanned. 

“I used to want someone in particular who didn’t try his luck with me…” Stupid little you to think that he would ask you in high school like he would choose you when you two fought all the time, you thought to yourself while gathering your stuff and ready to go now.

“Who was it?” he asked, following with big curious-puppy eyes. 

“Good night, Lance. See you tomorrow! We meet there” You ignored him and started strolling to your car.

“I can pick you up at nine?!” he yells.

“Nope! See you there!” Okay, maybe you started running.

•

“Oh dear, you look terrible” Yes, that’s your best friend’s first words when he sees you after weeks without each other.

“I told you” Stroll whispered behind you, holding both of your coffees and fighting his laugh. 

“My god, what is my brother doing to you, honey?” Chloe arrived also looking concerned.

“I really hate you all” you flipped them off before hugging them.

“Really babes, what were you doing?” Lukov took you by your arm and dragged you to the rink’s background. “Interesting late night, huh?”

“Not the one you’re imagining, unfortunately. Spend all night thinking”

“Thinking about?…”

“So- Hm, the program we planned is still the same?”

“Don’t change the subject, lady!”

“Just answer” 

“Yes, it is. But I had to change a bit since Chloe had gone almost one year without competing. Not gonna be easy, but at least, we will be at the podium”

“That’s what matters”

“What about you and Stroll-”

“Chloe!” You ran to her when you saw her passing with Lance. 

“I’ll extract the truth from you or him!-”

“How are things going with Scotty, honey?” You started talking and planning her bachelor party. In the end, we plan to meet the next day to properly talk. While Lukov tried to “extract the truth” from Lance. 

•

Lukov and Chloe were the last pair to perform and got the best score. The program we planned it’s perfect, even with the adaptations still an amazing choreography. Was an… experience to watch your teammate from outside the rink, imagining it was you with him. A bit distracting tho with Lance holding your hand every time his sister takes her feet off the ground.

“Have you ever watched your sister competing?” you said when he took your hand for the 5th time probably.

“I-I had but- I was young. Never thought about the risks- Like, she could actually die if he let her fall!”

“You are talking like a kid, Lance” you mourned.

“Already told you today how much I love when you call me by my first name?” he smirked leaning closer “Prefer when I talk to you like an adult, darling?”

“So what do you think?” Chloe asked euphorically, hugging you and her brother.

“Impressive!” “Great!” you and Lance said in unison.

“Just great?” She pouts.

“Great is wonderful in her translation!” Lukov nudges you with his elbow.

“You’re really tough,” Lance added.

“That’s what you said last night” damn your mouth, you thought to yourself as you watched Chloe and Lukov getting extremely wide-eyed.

“Really good timing,” Stroll said, holding his laugh and blushing slightly.

“That’s why you looked so tired, huh?!” “Spend the night ‘thinking’, right?” Chloe and Lukov said smiling to both of you.

“Are you teaming up against me?!” You whine while drinking your umpteenth cup of coffee.

“Just wishing you the best, honey” Lance’s sister gives you two taps on your back.

“And a hockey player is good enough eh?” Lukov agrees with her.

“I really fucking hate you both. See you next round!” You declared before going to the parking lot.

“So… My next game, the season’s final is in three days, right after their second round” You heard quick steps following you but didn’t need to turn back to know who it was.

“On the same day?” You leaned against the car, waiting for his response.

“Yep. Can you still train with me, then?”

“That was always the plan, no?”

“But I can help you more with your stuff-“

“Lance, I’m not following. That’s the whole point of our deal, is there something you would like to change?”

“No, just want to chat a bit, to be honest”

“Wow, how cute. But I need to go, my physio is waiting for me” you said entering the car, about to close the door.

“Can I go with you?” He quickly asked.

“Ah- I mean- If you promise not to tell her about the ankle thing, you can”

“I promise! When and where?”

“I’m gonna tell her and I’ll send you the info” You finally could close the car’s door.

On the way home you thought about his proposal and you don’t know if it’s the right thing to do. Letting him see you more vulnerable than he has already seen, that would break down another wall between you two. Building an intimate one in the place.

•

“Hey-“

“Remember! Don’t talk about my ankle, don’t be too polite and most importantly, don’t talk about my dad!” You blurted out nervously.

“Can I ask you why all this? Do I really need to worry?” His face turns to the side like a confused puppy.

“One word about the ankle, I kill you. If you’re too polite she will just make fun of you, and if she does don’t talk back. If you talk about my dad, she kills you. Simple”

“Care to explain what happened with your dad?”

“Long story short they had a drunk fuck, turned into a fling and she fell for him and-“

“It wasn’t reciprocated, I assume” 

“You’re absolutely right, handsome! Now please don’t be an asshole and in case she asks you to help me, refuse.”

“Okay-“ You yanked his arm and went inside the building walking fast.

“Good morning sweetheart, how’re you feeling?” Monica said hugging you and ignoring the boy behind you.

“Lance, this is Monica and Mo this is Lance”

“Just call me Dr.” She said rudely, clearly testing him.

“Okay, Dr. It's a pleasure to meet the woman who is taking care of her,” he pointed at you and offered his hand.

“Yeah it’s a pleasure to finally meet the boy who’s helping her stubborn ass to train even more” She smiled ironically and shook his hand “But anyway I need to get some things before we start, you arrived early so wait up” and then she’s gone.

“She’s a bit moody, isn't she?” He asked while you attempt to remove your boot.

“Just a bit and she doesn’t know you…” Lance watching your clumsy way to take your shoes off he seats by your side, gets your leg in his lap as he had done some days ago and does it for you “You didn’t need to, I could’ve done it”

“Stop being fucking stubborn, if I want to help I will!”

“And she technically works for your dad too” You ignored his last comment and the heat in your cheeks as he also removed your sock. Too simple, too intimate.

“My dad isn’t a bad boss!”

“But he is an absent one. He bought her family company and put one of your distant cousins to be the CEO, let’s say she is just not your dad’s biggest fan” 

“You should have warned me that too-“

“It was way too funny to see you getting all riled up, not knowing how to act and shit” You giggle ignoring him leaning on your legs.

“Get your ass off my patient” Monica called him out loud while you laugh at his scared reaction.

“S-Sorry”

“Let’s get started!”

•

“Boy, can you be useful once?” Your physio asks loudly at an almost sleeping Lance.

“Y-Yeah, sure!”

“Push her lower back in the ground’s direction” you tensed under his gaze. You were with your dominant leg up, like a spiral position. 

“D-Don’t-“ you tried to say.

“Shut up girl, do you want to skate or not?” Even if it hurts to admit, Monica is right. 

His hands lay on your waist gently and go down to your lower back. He tried to push it down carefully but after a hard stare of your physio, he did as asked. You felt like your skin was burning, not from the pain of the stretch but from the man’s contact. His hands send shivers down your whole body, you felt like your heart was beating in your throat.

This isn’t intimate, you two have been much closer before but right now? It’s different. No one ever made you feel like that, maybe in different circumstances but not like this, no. 

Being in such a vulnerable position makes you feel sick, especially him seeing you like this. But after that drunk talk some days ago there’s not much to hide. He opened up to you and you cried in him. Call it quits.

“Hold her like that for a sec, ‘gonna get a rope” 

“What was the third rule, Lance?!” you grunt.

“What? I’m not listening you!” He pushes you down even more while you feel a stare on your back. 

“If you stop staring at my ass for a sec you would listen to me, jackass! I know it looks good but not now, man” you joke feeling his hold faltering “Would’ve hurt you to say no to her? She has worked alone with me for years. She can do it, you don’t need to help. I told you, but you never listen to me, do you?-”

“Okay, lovebirds, I’m back”

•

We didn’t talk much after the physiotherapy, both of us were too focused in our own heads. We went out to eat after, but the lunch was just as silent as the way there. After quite some hours Chloe called you asking what time would you arrive and you just got in your car and went to her house.

“Hi girl! You got us wine? You know I’m competing but I’m not gonna refuse a glass” She smirked and let you in.

“10 things I hate about you?” You suggested, sitting in the couch.

(yes that was a link to my Daniel Ricciardo one-shot, check out in my masterlist)

“Oh my God, yes!” She sits down beside you and puts the film on. “So, how was your day? Heard Lance had gone with to physio, everything’s right?”

“Yeah, yeah. I don’t actually know why he insisted on going with me, but it was quite good ‘cause he helped my doctor so it was faster.”

“‘Noticed you two are not fighting too much anymore…”

“Yeah, I think we just like to tease each other, y’know?! We have some good talks sometimes, actually” you start fidgeting your fingers anxiously. 

“You guys have always been like this, you’re just noticing because you’re spending more time together” she smirks into her glass.

“And you and Lukov, how is it going? You two have great sync”

“He’s an amazing partner. I can see why you two always outdone me, you guys are incredible!” She answers you, getting some snacks.

“You’re awesome too, if you weren’t you wouldn't be with him honestly. You were the only one that came to mind when I needed to find another partner for him” you smile to yourself when she blushes to your compliment.

“How’s your skating? I know you have been practising more but how do you feel? Does it still hurts too much?” 

“A bit, yeah. But only when I overwork myself and at hardest jumps”

“It must be hard, sorry girl-” she burped as the wine quietly got the best of her, she had always been weak for drinks “Especially when all we do is overwork ourselves, isn’t it? And you and Lukov are best known for the quad throw salchow, you think you can come to that?” She caresses your arm affectionately.

“For sure, I’m working hard for it. Lance is even helping me train the hard jumps. Even with that bad posture of his, it’s actually helping a lot.”

“That’s s-soo good to hear, sweetie” She says finishing her second glass and you take the wine bottle clearly away from her.

“Well, it could be worse, you know?! I felt like I was dying…-”

“I m-mean you could have, if it wasn’t for Lance founding you that day. H-He was so in shock when he came back from the hospital where he let you, the poor b-boy couldn't even speak p-properly” the blonde confesses between quiet burps. 

“What are you talking about, Chloe?” You ask nervously. The movie, the wine, and the snacks are all long forgotten as you stop to think about the probabilities. It’s impossible, right?! What are the chances that he was the one that saved you? Why would he be there? How would he find you? Why didn’t he told you?

“S-Shit, I feel like I shouldn't have said that” she admits looking down at herself.

“It’s true? You swear?”

“Cross my heart, baby” she drunkenly says.

“I need to go, Chloe. Let’s get you to bed.” You sit up and start to organize the stuff, while she sits on the couch pouting because-

“You already going?” She pouts even harder.

“I need to” You really do need time for yourself right now. How are you going to look at him tomorrow?

“Did I did s-something wrong? No! Did I said something wrong?!”

“No, sweetheart, you didn’t. Now, come with me,” at the moment you set her in her bed she falls sleeps. You look for an aspirin and set on her bedside table, asking yourself how someone can get wasted so quickly.

•

You just got to sleep a few hours. You attempted to write him a few messages just to delete it before sending, rereading the last text he send. A simple “Tomorrow at 8 am, right? See you <3”, that makes your heart shudder with confusion. The way to the rink was weird. That’s exactly the word. All the questions that filled your head makes you a bit dizzy, you don’t even know if you will be able to practise today, since he’s gonna be soo near you.

“Good morning sweetheart!” he shouts from the bench excitedly.

“Why are you happy? It’s morning” you reply roughly.

“I watched a few programs on the internet yesterday and I’m feeling really inspired!” He got up twirling and following me from inside the ice.

“Good” you couldn’t contain yourself to not be short with him.

“Are you okay?” His worried expression got in your low point of view while you were lacing your skates.

“Yeah, yeah” ignoring is probably the best way to deal with it.

He was much more confident this session. The grip of his hands much more strong, the sync is good and his skating more balanced. But the connection you two found in the last practice seemed lost. It felt like he was searching for you while you were skimming away, every time he helped you in the jumps it felt like you didn’t want to be held, like his touch burned you. 

It was an unspoken tension. His eyes asking you what happened during each break, and you ignoring him. The silence was uncomfortable, but thinking about yesterday’s revelation during the whole practice made you decide to postpone the confrontation. He needs to be focused on the season’s end game. 

“Soo… you gonna tell me what happened? Did I do something wrong?” He seated beside you pouting.

“Sorry to mess up our session” you avoided through your teeth.

“Want to talk about it?” He puts an arm around your shoulder. It would feel comforting if you didn’t know he has been lying all this time.

“How would you feel if I didn’t tell you something really important about yourself?” You considered refusing his proposal but you couldn’t hold yourself.

“I don’t know… If it’s something really important to me I would be mad as fuck with you, but it depends” How can he act so clueless? Or Chloe was lying, which didn’t seem like it, or he’s just a liar. Both of them don’t have a reason to lie, but it’s just so confusing to you it hurts your brain.

“Huhum…”

“Want to tell me? You seem shaken. Does it have anything to do with Jeremy?”

“I don’t want to talk about it. And no, it was not him. It was just another asshole, but I gotta go” You got up, gathering your stuff and going home ignoring his thoughtful goodbye. 

The air in your car in the way back home was cold with confusion and loneliness. Tomorrow is the hockey training and the next day is his last game. Then you can finally press him to tell you the truth. When you arrived home you noticed almost a hundred texts from Chloe and Lukov, but decided to ignore both of them.

•

Lance Stroll POV

I spend more time in the rink practising to loose my mind from her attitude, forgot to eat and it’s past midnight when I get home. She was so distant, like all the progress we achieved in this meantime got lost. It’s confusing because even tho she says she’s fine she avoided the question when I asked if I did something wrong.

I can’t think of anything that I could’ve done recently. She seems disappointed and confused, it’s making me crazy. We’re not best friends but we’re not enemies either. I don’t know what to think and this might be a very anxious reaction but I need to see her. I feel like she is slipping through my fingers.

“What the hell are you doing in my house at 3 in the morning, Lance?!” She opened her front door with nothing but a large T-shirt and short shorts.

“I know I’ve hurt you somehow, but please, only for today try to understand me, I’m not asking for your forgiveness… well, kinda, but-”

“What are you doing here, Lance?” She opens the door more and asks me again huffing. 

“I don’t know what I have done to upset you or make you mad, but I am sorry” I enter her house without even noticing my leg moves “I’m really sorry, doesn’t matter why or what I’ve done I’m sorry. It’ll sound really crazy but I realised I miss you. And now this sound really weird! I don’t know what I’m saying anymore-”

I can’t finish the initial sentence that I don’t even know where it was going. I am interrupted by… lips? Her lips. Her lips pressing against mine in a gentle yet desperate way, pushing me harshly to the wall and making me whimper in a low tone, giving her the chance of sliding her tongue inside my mouth. When I finally have the opportunity to reciprocate the kiss she pushes away suddenly. 

“Shut. Up.” 

“That’s the first thing you say after kissing me?”

“I kissed you to shut you up. But you kissed me back.” She points at me cynically.

“That’s-”

“You saved me, didn’t you?! You took me out of the snow?!” The girl asked me with wide eyes. I don’t know which emotions her eyes are transmitting right now but maybe something between anger and something that I can’t put a finger on.

“W-What do you want me to say?” I absolutely don’t know how she knows that.

“The truth!” It had been quite a while since she last looked at me with that much annoyance. 

“It was me, I took you out of the snow” I lean into the wall tiredly.

“Why were you there?” She asked indignantly, walking to her couch.

“I was trying to clean my head-”

“The truth!”

“Someone I was expecting to be there didn’t show up… The ice rink was closed and thought about skiing” Two years without you showing up made me worried and jealous, that was the other truth.

“Why did you take me off?” She sits on her couch, looking at her feet.

“What- It’s not like I hate you, I’m not heartless!”

“Yeah, sure” She huffs not believing my words.

“I can’t lie, I know we’ve been hating each other all these years, but I don’t think I hate you anymore, ‘cause every single good memory I have, you’re there!” I feel a single tear streaming down my right cheek as I scream at her “I was in the snow that night 'cause I was jealous of Jeremy, that fucking bastard that never deserved you! I was worried that he hurt you because you know what happened when he started living with his ex! You always show up at family Christmas and then two years in a row?!”

“I-I-I don’t know what to s-say. You were there because of me?!”

“And thank god I was!” I sit next to her exasperated.

“I wanted to wait until your last game, after tomorrow… That was why I didn't told you before, I was scared!” She finally looks into my eyes and god, this is so fucking weird. It’s different from the anger she showed before. Her eyes are probably the most beautiful thing I ever saw, I could spend hours looking at her in complete silence. 

“I don’t know when it changed, to be honest. Probably when you started dating that asshole… Then I was too scared to tell you”

“Ownt you love me? I knew it, always did” The woman in front of me, the prettiest one and wittiest one too, mess with me even after all this situation.

“Fine, continue acting like you hate me” I sit back looking at her pretending I don’t care but if she really just makes fun of me I don’t know what I’m gonna do.

“Don’t you dare look at me that way! Not now, after every vile thing we’ve done to each other” She smiles scooting closer to my stretched arm.

“Why can’t we just let whatever this pointless rivalry is go?” I look down at her almost shining eyes.

“You lied-” She tried to reason with me but her eyes couldn’t lie.

“And… We should talk about what just happened…” I sneak my hand to her waist confidently. 

“I refuse to talk about how I just lost control and kissed you” She wraps her legs around my hip smiling an inch away from my mouth.

“That's what you said last night-” I couldn’t stop looking at her lips.

“Shut up, Lance!” She laughs before smacking her lips in mine. 

@honeyric3 hope you enjoy <3

[inmyheadimobsessed]

Deserve It || valentine's day piece #1

pairing: scotty ✘ black!reader

summary: valentines day is scotty's valentine holiday. why? because she gets to shower you with love in every way she believes you deserve.

word court: 3.3k

contains: smut with literally no plot (18+), praise!kink, strap!scotty, softdom!scotty, bottom!reader, fingering, oral (reader receiving because scotty is a munch!), smidge of fluff, scotty has a pain kink?

tags: @verachii @szalipcombo @rxcently @coolestgay @widowmakker @fetchyourlife @blackgcomica @n7cje @shurisbbymama @bestfriend491 @mocha-aya @uhwhatsay @shinsousliya @bratydoll @shuriri4life @letitias-fav @axailslink @chidinma @xoxo-dede @percsane @generallysapphic @mbakuetshurisprincess @quintessencewrites @adeola-the-explorer @dejaonline @bubshri @zayswriting @la-reine-insane @shurisjournal @shurismainbxtch @playhousedistee @cafehyunji @bigbigbigfan

divider by: @firefly-graphics

note: happy valentine's day my people! this was fun to write. i always enjoy writing for my baby scotty i love her bad. i enjoyed writing her from this perspective because what if scotty is lowkey a dom, i wouldn't put it past her. idk personally i think this is very tame compared to other things i've written lol. also it's canon that scotty loves valentines day because like... it's scotty. enjoy <333

“Scotty, baby, if I eat another piece of chocolate I'm gonna throw up.” Your girlfriend had made a task for herself: Pamper and please you for the duration of the day. Scotty adored Valentine’s Day for this reason alone. Ensuring that you were surrounded by love was her favorite activity and number one priority. It was a year-round occurrence of course, but on the fourteenth of February, she soared to new heights with the ways she chose to express her love for you.

Pink and red balloons floated in every corner of your apartment, each with a cheesy line imprinted on them.

Cupid called. He says that he needs my heart back.

I bought you a dictionary for V-Day because, you know, you add meaning to my life.

This Valentine’s Day, let’s make like fabric softener and Snuggle.

Scotty hung love hearts from the ceiling, ones you were certain she cut out herself. Rose petals dusted the floor and you’d received seven bouquets of flowers that morning alone, on top of the plethora of gifts, the cards, the sweets.

Any other day in the year, it would be possible to have her tone it down, but on Valentine’s Day, Scotty’s love and affection knew no bounds. And luckily for her, you were quite fond of her attention. You loved when all of her focus was on you, even if she teetered on the edge of overdoing it.

You heard her grumble, but she granted your request, dropping the delectable candy back into the heart-shaped box. She wouldn't complain, not out loud, and not if she thought her actions could make you sick. A silent victory for you and your stuffed stomach. You laid back against the couch finally, allowing your girlfriend to settle comfortably into you.

Scotty rested her head against your abdomen, arms wrapping around your waist from her position between your thighs. Her nimble digits stalked your clothed skin, creating a seamless transition from gentle graze to demanding massage. There was a moan, a low one, it expanded inside you with a plan to free itself. And it was the reaction she sought after, her intention made known when she smiled against you.

“Scotty.” Your voice a warning, one she did not heed.

Her giggle reverberated through you and she turned her head toward the TV, “I didn't do anything.”

“Yeah, but I know what you want to do.”

“If you know, then why can't I do it?” She quipped and her hand trekked closer to your center. Her lips were wet and wanting with each kiss she planted on your tummy. Familiarity from the sensation relaxed you, urging her to continue. Circles, cautious ones, were being rubbed into your clit above your leggings. You leaked through the fabric at the contact, dampening your crotch and her working fingers.

A whimper flew from your throat, one Scotty read as a plea. “Do you like this?”

“Yes.” It was a huff, the word itself buried beneath your breath. She kept going, pushing onto her knees between you. Lips traveled your upper body, famished, searching for yours and their ability to satisfy hunger. You pulled her face in, breathing hot air into her mouth as your tongues danced. Scotty rubbed your pussy through thin tights still, and a faint squish was now becoming audible at your core.

You pulled her closer, kissing her harder, rougher. Your hips rolled into her touch and she could tell you were in need of direct contact. Her lips met your exposed neck, trailing open-mouth kisses along it. Breathing her in was second nature. Three distinct scents intermingled on her person: Her oaky cologne, the one you’d bought for her. The last two, sweat and unyielding lust paired perfectly with the prominent aroma.

You loved them all, inhaling her as she slipped her hand beneath your waistband. “I love that you never wear underwear.”

Scotty's remark pulled a light giggle out of you, one that quickly morphed into a hard moan when she sunk two fingers inside your awaiting hole. She pumped in and out at the most excruciatingly slow pace known to man, taking time to bask in your wetness, to brush your walls with the pads of her fingertips. Her strides elongated, digits slick as they moved within your tight cunt.

This was Scotty's way. She took her time with you, always. The flat of her palm nudged your growing clit with each thrust. Her digits spread inside you, stretching you and making you crave more.

“Fuck…” She exhaled, letting her tongue lap your neck and her teeth sink into the flesh there. Scotty was fond of marking you; it drove her crazy, the idea that she could nip at your skin so tenderly, that she could suck your bobbing throat and leave bruises behind. Deep purple, eye-catching, and uniquely crafted by her mouth and no one else's. You were hers. “You're really wet, baby.”

All you could manage was a groan as you rocked your hips into her teasing fingers. Her speed slowed and Scotty had pushed off you.

“Lift your hips for me.” Raspy. Low. That's how her voice came out, a dip you’d never heard from her before, but it did its part in turning you on. You did as she said, pushing off the indented couch so she could slide your bottoms down.

They were off in seconds and your girlfriend tossed them across your shared living room. Cool air struck your most delicate, making you gasp and shiver alike. Scotty enjoyed the sight laid out before her, you could tell. Half-lidded eyes scanned her form: She kneeled between you, knees digging into the sofa, keeping your own apart as she watched your slick leak from your pussy, onto the cushions. Her tongue darted out to lick her lips; she was drooling, feening from the mere idea of tasting you.

“Baby please touch me.” Your own words jerked your body and Scotty grinned. She allowed her thumb to push through your dampened folds, stopping at your clit, and began repeating her actions from moments ago. Gentle rubs, caring strokes. She wanted to make you wait for it, push you to beg for it, the darkened hue in her irises told you as much.

Scotty's hand rose to her lips, sucking, letting her thumb pacify her. It did nothing to stifle her moan though, your pussy was her favorite flavor, and she always made a point to let you know just how much she enjoyed it. Her eyes were locked on you the entire time she spent sucking her digit clean, tugging on your want. God, you wanted her.

You watched as she laid flat onto her stomach, she smacked your thigh harshly, and you giggled. Long legs spread wide, sloping over her shoulders as she began her descent. Scotty’s warm breath hit your center, mingling with your own expelling heated wetness.

“Oh fuck!” That tongue of hers, impatient as ever, eager as ever. It made a home in your hole instantly and you cried out, her name dripping seductively from your parted lips. Scotty was hungry for you, ravenous as she lapped you. A kiss, a soft one, planted directly on your throbbing clit caused you to buck into her face. Her lips wrapped around the bud soon after, sucking as if her life depended on it.

She slurped you skillfully, gripping firmly to your hips as your body writhed for her. Desperate pants climbed out from your lungs and your eyes rolled to the back of your head. “Scotty, Scotty, baby l-look at me.”

And she did. Her pretty brown eyes found yours and they took you in, watching you react to her lips around your clit and her tongue in your hole. Scotty took in what she was doing to you. She was in awe of how worked up she made you, how wet she made you. This happened frequently, it was as though she couldn't comprehend her hold on you. She evidently loved it, she loved owning you, but the very notion puzzled her.

Both of your eyes trained on each other as you watched her eat you out. The sensation was otherworldly, the whirling, the building. A heavy release was right around the corner. Scotty's tongue was powerful, and the moment she added fingers to the equation you lost it. You screamed, bliss clouding your vision, your wetness as loud as your moans.

Scotty saw all of this. She watched every emotion dance across your features with a prideful smile of her own. “That's it, that's it baby. Am I making you feel good?”

“Fuck Scotty, so good!” You held her head, eyes boring deep into hers. “I love you so much.”

She hummed against your cunt, fingers accelerating, beckoning your orgasm forth. “You going to come for me? Hmm? Come hard around my fingers baby girl?”

There was that tone again. It was deeper than before and almost enough to send you. Your wails filled the room the deeper her fingers drove and you matched every one of her thrusts.

You nodded, breaking your intense eye contact to shut your eyes tight. You were heaving, so consumed by pleasure and completely overwhelmed by lust.

“Uh uh, keep those eyes on me.” She slithered up your half-naked body, gripping your chin and lowering your eyes to hers. “There we go. I need to see those gorgeous eyes of yours.”

Her fingers were still buried inside you as she spoke and her lips hovered over yours. You needed her to kiss you, you were desperate for her tongue to be down your throat, but Scotty had other plans it seemed.

She did kiss you, but it was barely that. The action was closer to a peck, and it made you whine. Scotty laughed, completely aware of what she was doing.

“Scotty, I need more.” You breathed out against her mouth and she nodded.

“I know, I know. I'm gonna give you more.” Stormy eyes took in all of you, and for the first time in two years, they were unreadable.

She reached for your top, pulling it over your head and discarding it immediately. You were fully nude now and your girlfriend looked ready to devour every inch of you as you peered up at her.

Her eyes flicked to your pussy, where she pushed two fingers back into you, but it wasn't enough. Lips and teeth were on your bare breast, suckling you lovingly. She swirled her tongue around your nipple, leaving strings of spit behind before switching to the other.

Scotty added another finger and you gasped as she pumped you leisurely. You breathed in deep, matching her falling chest. Her eyes carried something, it was hard to decipher at first, but when she spoke, you smiled knowingly.

“I-I wanna do it, try it at least, if it's something that's gonna make you happy. I wanna make you happy.”

You bit your lip timidly, “Yeah? What do you wanna try Scotty?”

“You already know what I’m talking about, please don't make me say it.” Flustering her, even now when she'd been her most controlling, was still the easiest thing in the world.

“No, I need to hear it.”

She whined in protest, but you stood firm in your demand. “Tell me what you wanna do to me Scotty baby.”

“I want to–” She froze, locking the words away and you grinned wider.

“You want to…”

“I want to f-fuck you.”

You moaned, from her words alone, and she seized the opportunity to gain the upper hand again. “I wanna fuck you, wanna make you feel so good baby.”

“Shit Scotty, do whatever you want!” The thrusts of her fingers sped up, and you felt it, the etchings of your orgasm. It was right there, so close you envisioned tasting it. But it never came. Scotty had committed her first act of cruelty, the only one in all her life — she’d denied you your release.

Her fingers left your wet yearning hole and were stuffed into your mouth rather harshly, stopping your whines and shutting you up. “Not yet.”

This surge of dominance taking over her body soaked you even more. Usually, you were in the driver's seat. Even when you weren't, you were. It was how she preferred things, or so you thought. Questioning your roles in the bedroom never crossed your mind until now, and you felt some guilt from that if you were being honest.

Had this been something she'd wanted? To be more commanding during sex? Why hadn't she said anything? Why didn't you ask? Question after question stampeded your brain. Her lips were on your neck again and you hadn't noticed.

“Babe, you okay? If you don't want me to I–” Her eyes housed concern because of course they did, of course she noticed when you stiffened beneath her. It was Scotty, your Scotty. All she ever did was look after you. And you couldn't wrestle away the feeling climbing your throat, the feeling that you weren't providing the same comfort as she did, not in the same capacity anyway.

You cupped her cheek reassuringly, “Oh I definitely want you to. But I wanna be sure you want to.”

“I do.” And that was final. You granted her permission to retrieve your strap-on from the bedroom and she clapped giddily. Scotty kissed you hard before pushing off you and skipping off down the hall. You couldn't help but smile at her excitement.

When she returned, she held the harness and lube in one hand and the reasonably sized dildo in the other. “I think I’m gonna need some help putting this on, baby.”

Your laugh came out louder than intended and she blushed. “I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to laugh, come let me help you.”

You helped her undress while placing soft kisses along her sides. She giggled in that cute way you loved, alerting you that her insecurities had simmered and she was ready to put it on. You assisted her in securing the toy and adjusted the straps to her body.

Once you’d laid back down on the couch, Scotty’s frame hovered above you. Her nerves had returned because she hesitated. A kiss could fix all of that, she needed only be reminded how much you needed her, how much you trusted her. She smiled into it, letting her eyes fall shut and she exhaled.

“Don't be nervous babe. I trust you.” You reached your hand between both your bodies, gripping the lathered dildo, and positioned it at your entrance. “I'm ready for you.”

Scotty obliged, allowing you to guide her carefully at first. The feeling of her entering you was overwhelming, the stretch burning only slightly. She moved in gently, pushing the entire length of the strap inside your wanting hole.

“Oh god!” Your cry escaped you, jumping from your mouth to her ears. It was enough to set a fire inside her, one that blazed confidently. Her thrusts picked up and so did your breathing. Scotty gripped your hips, pressing into your sensitive impressionable skin with her thumbs as she fucked into you. Wet lips caught yours for a passion-filled kiss and you wrapped your legs around her back.

She rocked into you, splashing your wetness everywhere and the pressure built. You felt every inch of the toy, every divot as it grazed your wet walls.

Your pussy swallowed it, squishing louder with each buck of your girlfriend’s hips. “Is that good?”

She was panting, eyes locked on your face and the way only she made it contort from pleasure. “Fuck baby that's perfect! A little harder please!”

“No. I want you to feel everything I'm giving you.” She continued her languid jolts, slow and steady, and you wanted to cry.

The deeper she sunk, the higher you soared. You were a bird, majestic and lively, freed from captivity. Scotty’s lengthy strokes freed you, they were pulling you home, pulling you to where you belonged. You belonged with her, beneath her body, in her arms. She fucked you her way, in the way that was best for you and you accepted every bit of it, every inch of her.

“Mm fuck me baby!”

“You know why I'm doing this? Hmm?” Scotty nestled her face into your sweaty neck, biting the spot lightly. The action steadied her somehow, allowing her to dive the dildo in further. This angle was new, but held the same severity.

“Because you deserve it,” She pulled out, then pushed all the way back in without warning. “You're so good to me, so perfect for me, I need you to know that. Do you know that?”

You nodded, but Scotty wasn't satisfied. “Words babe, wanna hear it.”

You would never tire of that bass in her voice. You needed it there forever, you needed this domineering side of your sweet Scotty to exist forever. “I'm perfect for you, shit!”

“Yes, you are. My perfect girl!” Gradually, she sped up, fucking you hard, making you cry her name again and again. Every jerk of her hips drew your orgasm near and you latched on to that feeling, that incessant tug.

She pecked your chest before pulling your hard nipple between her lips. “This how you wanted it?”

“Just like that Scotty, fuck just like that!” The tears were rolling now, yours and hers. A salty kiss solidifying all of it, everything you felt for Scotty.

“Is my perfect girl gonna come for me?”

Fingernails burrowed into her shoulder blades, breaking skin with their ferocity. The stabbing pain caused her to wail, but there was enjoyment there in her eyes, pure arousal. She liked it. Scotty liked the pain. As if you needed yet another reason to find her sexy. “Yes! Make me come, please I need it!”

“That's it! Do it for me, come for me baby girl!”

One last shaky thrust knocked you out of reality and into a world where only the two of you existed. All you saw was her: her lips, her eyes, her smile. Your mind was clouded with images of Scotty, your Scotty. This orgasm, its intensity, was nothing similar to those in your past. It slithered through you, coating every nerve in your being. The shock of it made you numb to any other existing feeling. All you knew was this, all you wanted to know was the enveloping feeling of coming with Scotty deep inside you.

Your entire body twitched as she fucked you through it. It was all too much, but you were still left wanting more of her.

Scotty eased out of your used hole and watched it clench, immediately missing the feeling of being filled. You were shaking beneath her still and she kissed your waist to calm you.

“I know baby, I know.”

You tried for words, but none came and your vision had yet to return to normal. “I–”

“Shhh. It's okay. How about a massage? Does that sound nice?” You replied the only way you knew how, with an unsteady nod.

She leaned in, placing a kiss against your temple, then your lips. “I love you.”

“I–I love you too, Scotty. So much. Thank you.”

“Oh babe, you deserve this and more. You deserve everything.”

Her grin reached her eyes and you matched it. “Was it good? Did I… did you enjoy yourself?”

And just like that, your timid baby had returned, seeking your approval, needing you to put her mind at ease. “That was truly the best sex of my life Scotty, a very unforgettable Valentine’s Day.”

“Wait til you see what I have planned for tonight!” She smiled wide, then she was off, sprinting to the room to get her massage oils as promised.

•••

"Fuck Scotty! Baby I'm close!" Your head hit her shoulder as you bounced on the strap. You were on your fourth orgasm of the night, barely able to stay upright, but your girlfriend insisted you ride her.

Her forearm looped around your middle, existing as the only thing steadying you, and you were grateful for the hold. "Not yet, hold it!"

You were trying, god you were trying so hard, but restraint was something that slipped away from you. Especially with the way Scotty had been tossing you around all day. There was no rest for you and you were beginning to suspect she liked you this way.

She pushed into you just as you came down on her and you shrieked, unconsciously sinking your teeth into her shoulder.

"Ahh! Do that again!" The back of her head collided with the headboard as her free hand found your clit. That was the thing to drive it all home for you. Your fingernails dug deep into her back, teeth chomped hard on her shoulder, and you were unfurling with Scotty inside you, knocking against your g-spot.

A scream of her own was not far off, following yours closely, and she let you fall into the covers.

"Did you–" You grinned wide and her blush came quick.

Scotty nodded, "I did."

The idea of her coming untouched, coming from the simple act of fucking you was... it was a lot of things. The thought excited you though, maybe a little too much. This day had opened your mind to a slew of new things about your Scotty, and you were learning a lot about yourself as well.

You were beginning to understand why your girlfriend loved this day so much.

[axailslink]

Happy Birthday~

Scotty x FEM!reader

Synopsis: Scotty likes you and has liked you for a very long time in fact she can't hide her feelings any longer. So, what better day to tell you then on your birthday while you've had a few drinks and are feeling fearless?

Birthday girl here! Birthday girl there! Your small group of friends had whisked you to many places first your dinner which consisted of every piece of food you could inhale along with everyone's card which you tucked in your gift bags to read later. Then you were dragged to the bar not for long you're sure it was a distraction from them filling your house with pink balloons and more alcohol and crowding your floor in gifts which lay at your feet at the moment. "I'm convinced y'all tryna fuck me." Of course, you can never just say "thank you" it's not in your vocabulary not with your friends not with the group of idiots you've known more than the years of life you dedicated to school and classes. It's about time for everyone to retire sadly so you say your goodbyes and give your last hugs for the night. Expecting to be left alone you have a knock on your door breaking you away from opening your gifts you trip past the bags and to the door opening it to see Scotty holding a teddy bear as big as herself but from the awkwardness you're sure it's her. "A little birdie told me it was your birthday" you can't help but smile at Scotty's overwhelmingly childish behavior "it would seem you are late to the party" she sighs as you pull the life sized bear away from her face to see her sad facial expression "work cornered me but I wouldn't miss it just over anything..." You hug Scotty and pull her into the house tripping over a few things but never letting her go. "I can't stay for long I actually have to go in a minute but I wanted to give you this she pulls away and hands you a hefty birthday card surprised by the weight of it you want to open it immediately but she stops you. "Could you wait until I'm gone?" "What? No it must be important it's heavy" you rip open the letter as if it's the first one you've received when you know you have plenty tucked in the gifts circling both of your feet. Scotty seems stuck in her place as you take out the letter with little hearts plastered over the papers maybe about fifteen photos fall from your hands when you unfold the paper and you're smiling ear to ear as you pick them up and look at them. In each one Scotty's smiling ear to ear and looking at you like you're the best thing created by the gods in one photo though it's just you smiling. "Awe Scotty" you hug her as you start to read the letter but as you read you slowly widen your eyes. "Scotty" Scotty looks past you unsure if it's safe to even look in your direction she doesn't. She braces herself to be hit or yelled at but after thirty seconds neither thing happens so finally she looks at you "I don't understand." You very well do but maybe it's a mistake there's no way your friend you've cared for for years has had some crush on you not Scotty not sweet Scotty. "I don't know how I can make it clearer" her words make you nod "I'm tired of acting like I don't like you" you slowly pull away from her but it's her turn to hug you and hold you close.

"Y/n as ridiculous as this is going to sound I don't want to be your friend I'm tired of being your friend" she nestles her face into the crook of your neck as she breathes you in "please don't hate me for this." You shake your head in disbelief as she slowly pulls away "I value our friendship I do" you mumble "I love you" Scotty said these words to you often but hearing them now and knowing the way she means them in this very moment you're blinded and deaf even you can't look anywhere you can't hear anything but you can feel her. Her hands gently pressed into your back and her tears steaming down her face and onto your bare shoulders. She finally lets you go giving you a view of her face which is a mess the tears have destroyed her and it weakens your heart to see her in so much pain it makes you wonder. Has she always felt like this? Did she feel like this every time you got a new lover? What about those times you discussed your sex life with her? Everything must have hurt... To think she thought her life was unrequited.

Scotty breaks free from the grip that is you but as she turns on her heels you grab her and pull her back to you keeping her close you grab her face with both hands on her cheeks firmly pressing soft kisses to her tear stained face. You place a kiss everywhere starting on her forehead, both cheeks, her nose then her lips... But you don't stop there you turn her head and kiss her ear and the side of her neck... You don't know what possesses you but Scotty does as she turns her head and gives you a proper kiss now one that's full of so many emotions she doesn't let you pull away to breathe. Your tongues run against each other neither fighting for dominance but instead both enjoying the comfort of the other. When she finally pulls away she's confused but you grab her by the collar of her shirt crumpling the letter in hand "happy birthday" she mumbles you nod "where did you say you needed to go?" Scotty shakes her head "I don't remember." You smile "good."

A/n: What do you do when boredom hits? Remember you write fanfiction ✍🏾

[gweelczz]

“Cat Got Your Tongue?” PT. 2

Rosalie Otterbourne × Black!Fem!Reader

Warnings: Suggestive, smut, Rosalie being the only woman ever, reader is a simp off rip and a munch!!, reader is the sister of Cab Calloway and the cousin of Billie Holiday, Rosalie has rizz, Fingering, Oral (Rosalie receiving)

Summary: Being in love she didn't know whether she was falling or flying but she was airborne either way... or a story about a woman falling head over heels for another woman in the 1930s

“Up above my head”

“Up above my head”

“I hear music in the air”

“I hear music in the air”

“Up above my head”

“Up above my head”

“I hear music in the air”

“I hear music in the air”

“Up above my head”

“Up above my head”

“I hear music in the air”

“I hear music in the air”

“And I really do believe”

“Yeah I really do believe”

“There's a Heaven somewhere”

“There's a Heaven somewhere”

“Now up above my head”

“Up above my head”

“I see, trouble in the air”

“I see, trouble in the air

“Up above my head”

“Up above my head”

“I see trouble in the air”

“I see troubles in the air”

“Up above my head”

“Up above my head”

“I see trouble in the air”

“I see trouble in the air”

“I really do believe”

“I really do believe”

“You know, I really do believe”

“I really do believe”

“There is a Heaven somewhere”

“There is a Heaven somewhere”

“And I really do believe”

“I really do believe”

“Yes, I really do believe”

“I really do believe”

“Yes, I really do believe”

“I really do believe”

“There's a Heaven somewhere”

“There’s a Heaven somewhere”

Rosalie sat at the piano as Salome stood across from her on the stage, guitar slung across her body. They bounced the lyrics off of each other filling the party with a soulful feel. Y/N now stood leaning against the rail next to her brother who was smirking as he glanced between her and Rosalie who had been stealing glances at each other the whole performance.

Cab chuckled a bit as Y/N stared at the woman enamored with the voices that rang from on the stage, Rosalie’s standing out to her the most with how strong and soul filled it sounded. “If you keep staring you know she could charge you for being a creep, and close your mouth there could be flies” Cab teased nudging his sister laughing softly.

“Sorry” the woman murmured bashfully “she’s just so beautiful, I can’t help it”. Cab nodded before speaking again “I see you two married with at least two dogs in the future” he chuckled dodging the hit his sister sent his way. “Shut it Cab” her eyes darting back to the stage where Salome and Rosalie had ended the song and were now blowing kisses to each other with wide smiles.

Rosalie and Salome bowed before excusing themselves from the stage, Salome heading backstage while Rosalie walked through the crowd to claim her friend for the night. Cab smirked excusing himself with a smirk “don’t do anything I wouldn’t do” he winked before walking off.

“Ready to go Suga?” Rosalie asked holding out a hand to Y/N who gladly took it letting the woman lead her up the stairs. Once the made it inside the hotel room Y/N was pushed against the wall with lips attached to hers. Her hands wrapping around Rosalie’s neck moaning softly into her mouth.

Her hands trailed underneath the skirt of her dress as their tongues fought for dominance. Y/N’s mouth latched onto Rosalie’s neck panting against the Swamy toned skin, fingers tangling themselves in her hair angling her head for her own usage. “I’ve wanted your lips on me from the moment I saw ya on stage.. ya heart called out to me askin me to light this here body ablaze with my touch” Rosalie spit fire as she spoke, her fingers brushing the smooth skin of her thigh.

“Will ya let me honey? Will ya let touch ya the way a man neva could? Give ya pleasure only ya dreams could provide?” Rosalie gently pulled the other’s mouth from her neck with a fire lit in her eyes. “I need an answer, ain’t goin touch ya no more without one” Rosalie went to move her hand from Y/N’s thigh causing the other woman to grab it placing it back onto it’s previous location.

Y/N internally panicked at the thought of Rosalie’s hands leaving her body after craving to feel her all night. She wanted this no question, she’d never wanted anything more in her life. If her brother could see her now he’d be smirking with that knowing look. Cab knew who she was before she even knew herself and every chance he got he reminded her of that. She slightly whimpered clinging on to the others hand firmly.

“Please, touch me.. do anything you want, I need you. Needed you since I saw you” her southern drawl dripping with want and desperation. Y/N gathered all her boldness and gently pushed Rosalie onto the bed as she herself removed her undergarments and unzipped her dress straddling Rosalie’s lap, she was determined to get what she wanted, what she desired.

Rosalie pulled down the straps of Y/N’s gown taking a nipple into her mouth, her fingers creeping up her thigh until the reached their destination. Her eyes never leaving Y/N’s as she did so, her auburn orbs reflecting a predatory gaze wordlessly communicating with the woman in her lip.

A soft mewl escaped Y/N’s lips as she felt those slender fingers she’d been fantasizing about all night inserting themselves into her leaking heat. She bucked her hips into Rosalie’s hand moaning softly under her breath “Mmm Rosalie, feels so good”. Y/N’s fingers found purchase in the manager’s hair tugging gently from the pleasure, “fuck, please do that again”.

Rosalie smirked against her skin curling her fingers once more causing the beauty above her to cry out, her thumb painting circles onto her clit. Rosalie pulled off of her nipple just enough to speak switching to the other one afterwards “let me hear ya honey, wanna hear how good I’m pleasing my sunflower”

“Rosalie, baby.. I’m gonna..” Y/N babbled out her brain turning to mush as she tried articulating a sentence. The orgasm she’d tried holding back surfacing ten fold making her eyes roll back. “Fuck, fuck, fuck. I’m cumming” Y/N’s moans now airy and high pitched as she came spilling her juices onto the other’s fingers, her breath hitching as she panted. “So unlady like” Rosalie tsked with a smirk causing Y/N to blush.

“god that was so good”. She took a few seconds to catch her breath gazing at Rosalie with hooded eyes “Your turn now mistress”. She climbed off of the woman’s lap pushing her onto her back, fingers hurriedly bunching her skirt up around her hips. Rosalie spread her legs inviting the hungry woman into her heat that was now leaking onto the expensive sheets.

Rosalie had this aura about her, her independent nature making her more sexy than she was. She carried herself in a way that made men dislike her. Men didn’t like women who didn’t need a man and Rosalie was one of those women. She licked her lips gazing down at Y/N, her fingers holding the fabric bunched around her waist. “C’mon baby, show these men how good you can please a woman” Y/N moaned leaning down flicking out her tongue, a long wet stripe being applied to her slit.

“God yes, that’s it suga” Rosalie moaned as Y/N swirled her tongue around her clit wrapping her lips around it giving it a hard suck. Rosalie arched her back and bucked her hips. “My lord…” she moaned out tangling her fingers into Y/N’s hair, the other woman moaning into her cunt flicking her tongue across the bud before moving down inserting her tongue into her entrance, her nose brushing against her clit causing Rosalie to cry out once again.

“Oh my yes, Y/N please more.. need ya to make me cum baby”. She instructed granting her a hum from the other woman while Y/N sped up her ministrations on a mission to make her dove cum. Her tongue moving in one direction as her head went in the other. She moaned at the taste of Rosalie’s juices which were now dripping down her chin but she could truly care less. “Y/N baby, you goin make me cum!” Rosalie moaned out grinding her cunt against Y/N’s face chasing her orgasm.

Y/N hummed sending vibrations into her heat, her eyes flicking up with a need to see Rosalie’s face when she comes undone. Her moans beautifully ringing in her ears like a symphony as she was finally granted her wish. Rosalie came with a loud moan and a tug to her hair, Y/N greedily drank every drop. Her mouth glistening with the woman’s juices, a yelp escape when she was firmly yanked up into a heavy kiss.

Rosalie removed the rest of their clothing wiping them both clean tossing the soiled garments into the ground. “Ms. Rosalie I’ve taken a likin to ya” Rosalie chuckled a bit pulling the blankets over both of them. Y/N lifted her head pressing a kiss to the other’s lips “well that great news because I’ve already claimed you, claimed you the minute I put my mouth on you” Rosalie shot back wrapping an arm around the other woman’s waist. “That’s quite alright with me”

[bbxnny-bbxtch]

i be writing the softest fluffiest most dramatic romance stories while i be reading the nastiest toe curling gut wrenching, make yo ass SWEAT smut fanfics at 3 am. everyone has a dark side 🐺🐺🐺🐺

[vargskelegore]

planning on writing a scotty x black fem reader fic soon for those who have seen banana, a show that letitia was in.