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whumptober · 9 months

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Whumptober 2023

Welcome to Whumptober 2023 — the sixth year running!

COMPLETIONISTS/PARTICIPANT BADGES CAN BE FOUND HERE

To those of you who participated last year, welcome back! To everyone joining this year, welcome!

Please make sure to read the Event Info carefully, as most of your questions will be answered there already. For everything else, you are welcome to come to our ask box or ask questions in our Discord server here.

This year’s AO3 Collection can be found here.

And this years playlist can be found here.

There are 139 prompt options in total this year - this is including the alternatives list! A special thanks goes out to those who took part in our trope vote back in July. From the 1526 responses to our list of 223 tropes, we looked through the popularity results, as well as your honourable mentions, and were able to produce this years prompts list. Stay tuned, as we will be posting some of the results at a later date!

We’re very excited to see the community come together once more and be a wild, chaotic bunch of creators and consumers of whump. Go wild with the prompts, and support your fellow creators - we wish you all the fun!

Best of luck and happy whumping,

Mods Vanne, Yenn, Kitty and Surro

(All 31 Themes + Prompts, Event Information and FAQs are posted below the cut!)

Whumptober 2023 Prompt List

No. 1: “But now this room is spinning while I’m trying just to fill in all the gaps.”

Safety Net | Swooning | “How many fingers am I holding up?”

No. 2: “I’ll call out your name, but you won’t call back.”

Thermometer | Delirium | “They don't care about you.”

No. 3: “Like crying out in empty rooms; with no-one there except the moon.”

Journal | Solitary Confinement | “Make it stop.”

No. 4: “I see the danger, It’s written there in your eyes.”

Cattle Prod | Shock | “You in there?”

No. 5: “You better pray I don't get up this time around.”

Debris | Pinned Down | “It's broken.”

No. 6: “Do or die, you’ll never make me; Because the world will never take my heart.”

Recording | Made to Watch | “It should have been me.”

No. 7: " “I paced around for hours on empty; I jumped at the slightest of sounds.”

Alleyway | Radio Silence | “Can you hear me?”

No. 8: “I’ve got soul, but I’m not a soldier.”

Overcrowded ER | Outnumbered | “It’s all for nothing.”

No. 9: “Learning everything ain't what it seems, that's the thing about these days.”

Polaroid | Mistaken Identity | “You're a liar.”

No. 10: “Can’t you see that you’re lost without me?”

Broken Phone | Stranded | “You said you'd never leave.”

No. 11: “All the lights going dark and my hope’s destroyed.”

Animal trap | Captivity | “No one will find you.”

No. 12: “I haven't slept in days but who's counting?”

Red | Insomnia | “I’m up, I’m up.”

No. 13: “It comes and goes like the strength in your bones.”

Cold Compress | Infection | “I don’t feel so good.”

No. 14: “Feed me poison, fill me ‘till I drown.”

Flare | Water Inhalation | “Just hold on.”

No. 15: “I don't need you to help me I can handle things myself.”

Makeshift Bandages | Suppressed Suffering | “I’m fine.”

No. 16: “Would you lie with me and just forget the world?”

Gurney | Flatline | “Don’t go where I can’t follow.”

No. 17: “You’re the lump in my throat and the knot in my chest.”

Collar | Touch Aversion | “Leave me alone.”

No. 18: “I tend to deflect when I’m feeling threatened.”

Blindfold | Tortured For Information | “Hit them harder.”

No. 19: “I’ll take one final step, all you have to do is make me.”

Floral Bouquet | Psychological | “I’m not as stupid as you think I am.”

No. 20: “People don’t change people, time does.”

Blanket | Found Family | “You will regret touching them.”

No. 21: “See the chains around my feet.”

Vows | Restraints | “Don't move.”

No. 22: “They never saw us coming, ‘til they hit the floor.”

Glass Shard | Vehicular Accident | “Watch out!”

No. 23: “It’s gonna get me by the end of the night.”

Shadows | Stalking | “Who’s there?”

No. 24: “I’ve got a head full of chemicals; mouth full of ridicule.”

Goodbye Note | Neglect | “I thought they were with you.”

No. 25: “You’re not delivering a perfect body to the grave.”

Storm | Buried Alive | “They’re not breathing!”

No. 26: “Sometimes I get so tired; I don’t even know myself.”

Seeing Double | Working To Exhaustion | “You look awful.”

No. 27: “You drew stars around my scars; But now I’m bleeding.”

Matches | Scars | “Let me see”

No. 28: “We might not make it to the morning; so go on and tell me now.”

Bloody Knife | Sacrifice | “You'll have to go through me.”

No. 29: “I only sink deeper the deeper I think.”

Scented Candle | Troubled Past Resurfacing | “What happened to me?”

No. 30: “It’s okay, just to say, ‘I’m not okay’.”

Borrowed Clothing | Bridal Carry | “Not much longer...”

No. 31: “I thought that I was getting better.”

Emptiness | Setbacks | “Take it easy.”

Alternatives List:

Betrayal

Aftermath of Failure

Brass Knuckles

Decoy

Body Modification

Playing Cards

Examination

Hunting

Drugging

Shaking

Panic

Broken

Miscommunication

Lab Rat

Reluctant Whumper

Event Info & Rules

~ Please read our extensive event info posts before sending us an ask ~

WHUMPTOBER is a month-long, prompt-based creation challenge (think: Inktober, but whumpier). There are 31 official themes this year - one for each day of the month - which can be used, skipped, or combined in any way you’d like. The 'theme' of each day is the line of lyrics.

The prompts are merely to serve as inspiration without being taken literally (e.g. you don’t have to include the exact wording of prompts into your work). Feel free to run rampant on interpretation. For example, if the prompt is "flame", you could create something with reference to a candle/campfire, your character could have suffered a burn, or the flame could be related to the 'spark' of a relationship. It's truly up to you!

In total, there are 4 prompts for each day: there's lyrics, an object, a trope and a line of dialogue to choose from. We want to give everyone as much creative freedom as possible, as well as increase event accessibility for folks with triggers and squicks.

Creators can PRODUCE work in any media they choose, including but not limited to: writing, visual artwork, photo/video/audio edits, paper crafts and elaborate recommendation lists (not just a list of links). Creators can PARTICIPATE as much or as little as they want (i.e. you don’t have to do ALL the prompts if you don’t want to) and prompts can be used in any order. They are also free to use even after the event ends.

When uploading Whumptober content to your blog, be sure to tag the with:

#whumptober2023 …..(the event tag)

#no.1, #no.2, #no.3, …..(day number)

#lyric, #bruises, #stabbing, …..(the theme or specific prompt you chose)

#fandom or #OC, … (ironman, originalcontent, oc …)

#medium …..(gifs, fic, podcast, art, etc.)

#teeth, #gore tw, #etc …..(trigger warnings & any additional tags. Add "tw" AFTER the trigger/content warning. )

#nsfwhump …..(only for nsfw content)

#your own tags go here

PLEASE BE DILIGENT WITH YOUR TAGGING. Only properly tagged posts are considered for archiving on the official @whumptober-archive blog. They must be tagged in the order above. An elaborate post about our tagging system can be found [here]

Unfortunately, due to the sheer number of participants in recent years, we cannot guarantee your work will be archived. A random selection of properly tagged posts from all genres will be reblogged each day.

Whumpers who produce content for 31 total theme days are considered event completionists and will be tagged in a masterpost at the end of the month. A form will be published at the beginning of November asking you to tell us if you completed the event. You do not need to post anything you have created, we rely on trust and we will not check this.

Questions not addressed in one of our many event info posts can be directed to this blog. We will not answer any questions that have been answered in the FAQs or rules already.

Frequently Asked Questions

Q. How does this year’s prompt list work? What do I have to choose?

You can create something based on:

The overall theme/lyric of the day

Prompt 1, 2 or 3

One or several of the alternative prompts

A combination of the above

Q. Is [specific anything] allowed?

When in doubt: JUST DO IT!

Q. Do I have to do all 31 days?

Participate as much or little as you like! Just be sure to tag your posts properly (ex. #no.7, #radio silence). If you create works for 31 total theme days you will become a completionist. But apart from that, there are no repercussions if you don’t fill prompts for each day.

Q. Can I post early/late?

Yes, you can post whenever you want. We will only reblog posts during October, but you can use our prompts all year round. The day you post will only affect your probability of being reblogged.

Q. Will you reblog my post?

Due to the sheer number of content posted during Whumptober we can’t promise to reblog every single post. We will make a random selection trying to capture a wide variety of content. The following will increase your chances at being reblogged:

tag your post properly

post within 2-3 days of the theme you want to fill: if you fill the prompt for Day 1 your chances of being reblogged during October 1st to 3rd are highest and will go towards zero afterwards.

Q. What if I don’t understand a prompt/theme?

Send us an ask! We’re happy to help with wild, unhelpful clarifications or brainstorming. That being said, the themes are entirely up for interpretation. Don’t take them too literally. For example: You can be choking on a cherry, someone else can choke you or you could be choked up on emotions, etc.

Q. What kind of content can I make? Can it be NSFW?

This is a MIXED MEDIA event! You can write fic, post meta, doodle or paint, create a gifset or photo edit, link a song, or get crafty with video - anything goes. As for NSFW, make what you like, we just hope that you’ll tag your work accordingly so that others participating in the event can stay safe.

Q. Can I combine Whumptober with other creation challenges?

Absolutely, as long as the other challenges allow it too.

Q. Can I upload/repost my Whumptober content to other social media platforms?

Of course! You can post your own content wherever you like (or you can opt to not publish it at all). Additionally we’ve created an AO3 Collection to archive any fics posted there. It can be accessed here. The tumblr blog @whumptober-archive is the official archive, so please respect the boundaries of any closeted whumpers in your social circle.

Q. Can I use prompts to write a new chapter for an existing fic?

Yes.

Q. An existing fic I am currently writing contains many of the Whumptober prompts, can I use it?

If you are actively writing this fic at the moment with the Whumptober prompts in mind, yes. If you’ve previously posted something that checks the boxes, we ask that you not include it retroactively for this current year. You can, however, add new chapters relating to one or more of the prompts.

Q. What kind of characters can I write for?

Fandom characters, OC characters, human, furry, alien, cyborg, RPF, whoever you like. You can use the generic “whumpee” character or have specific ones.

Q. Does it have to take place in a specific fandom?

No, you can create works for your own worlds or for fandoms or for both. You can also create more generic or pan-fandom works. You can do cross-overs or use OCs, whatever you want.

Q. Can I use a prompt multiple times?

Yes, but it only counts once towards being a completionist.

Q. If I’m not comfortable with one day’s prompts can I use a prompt of a different day as a substitute and still be a completionist?

No, you can’t exchange prompts for different days. However, if all four prompts of a specific day make you uncomfortable, we have created an alternate prompts list that you can draw from. You can exchange any prompt with these, but please make sure not to use them twice.

Q. Where can I post my work?

Post where and how you want. You don’t have to (cross)post it to Tumblr or at all. Just keep in mind if it’s not on Tumblr we will not be able to add it to the blog archive.

Q. Can I start posting early?

You can, but this is an October event and wouldn’t it be more fun with everyone doing it at the same time? That being said, you can post early, but we won’t be reblogging any work predating October 1st.

Q. Do I have to finish a fic I started/can I post WIP’s?

Yes you can post WIPs. And you’re not obligated to finish it in October for it to count towards being a completionist.

Q. Is co-writing allowed?

Yes, absolutely, and it would count towards being a completionist for both/all of you.

Q. Do I have to create 31 standalone pieces to be considered a completionist or can I write one continuous story?

One continuous story is fine. The challenge is to write something for 31 prompts. If that’s spread over 31 fics or just one, you are still considered a completionist. (The same goes for every other media you choose.)

Q. Is there a min/max limit on word count?

There is no limit.

Q. Can I combine prompts? Is there a limit on how many?

No limit and combine as many as you’d like.

Q. Is a hc/angst/emotional whump focus ok?

Of course! We are not going to establish a threshold for whumpiness. If you think it’s whumpy enough, then it’s whumpy enough. It can be physical, psychological, emotional, or any combination of the three.

Q. What’s considered nsfw?

See this post

Q. What is whump?

Typically the genre includes situations where a fictional character is hurt, be it emotionally, psychologically, or physically. Fanlore provides information here.

Q. My interpretation of the prompt isn’t whumpy at all, does that count?

If you don’t think your interpretation is whumpy, then it doesn’t count for Whumptober. Remember that whump comes in many forms, though, and that we don’t have a whump-checker or a threshold for how much whump needs to be included. If you think your interpretation contains enough whump to count, then it does.

Q. Can I start working on the prompts before October?

Absolutely! That’s why we post the prompts a month in advance. We recognise how difficult it can be creating for 31 days in “real time” so feel free to start creating early!

Q. How do I tag triggers?

tw at the end of the word, ex. #gore tw

Q. Do I have to use your tags?

Yes, if you want your work archived on the blog. If not, feel free to use whatever tags you want.

Q. Does combining prompts count towards completion?

Yes

Q. Can we @ you?

Yes but we mostly rely on the #whumptober2023 tag.

Q. Is there anything we are absolutely not allowed to write?

There are no rules, but please make sure to properly tag your trigger warnings. And keep in mind Tumblr’s policies if you are posting it here (or the policies for whatever site you use).

Q. Where can I go for brainstorming help?

Here on Discord or come into our ask box.

Q. My characters are minors, is that ok?

Yes, but as with everything else, use clear and descriptive tags.

Q. Can I cross post on other blogs?

Yes, multiple platforms and blogs are perfectly acceptable. You can also post different works to different accounts under different names, without posting them everywhere at once.

Note: This is a creation challenge, please don’t repost your old work under our tags (unless it’s been changed or edited for the event).

Thanks for reading, and happy whumping!

#whumptober2023 #whumptober 2023 prompts list #whumptober #prompts list #long post

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f1goat · 18 days

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not a chance + lando norris (one shot)

In which Lando thinks he's going to win a race, to which you tell him the chances of you two fucking are as low as him winning a race - so what happens when he wins?

lando norris x fem!sainz reader tw: smut + not proof read (as usual)

masterlist - playlist

“I think this is going to be my day,” Lando tells your brother, Carlos, with a confident tone in his voice. “Maybe I’ll actually win today.”

You can’t help yourself and let out a soft laugh. “As if,” you mutter softly. You don’t expect anyone to pay attention to you, let alone hear your comment, but while looking at Lando you’re quick to realize that he did hear you. He is sending you an annoyed glare, while Carlos tries to tell you without words that you should shut up. Bit too late for that now.

“Don’t believe me babygirl?” Lando asks you. The earlier confidence in his voice has disappeared and made place for a sarcastic tone, one Lando only uses with you. “Nope,” you say, making sure that you’re popping the p.

“I’m not doing this again,” Carlos sighs while looking at his little sister and one of his best friends. Lando and you both know what he’s talking about, but neither of you is backing away. Lando is even getting closer towards you. “I’ll see you later,” Carlos continues, “hopefully after the two of you finally fixed the fucking sexual tension between you two.”

It’s not a secret that Lando and you don’t like each other. You don’t know how it happened, where you were once almost as close with him as Carlos, things changed between you two. Friendly conversations changed into sarcastic, mean remarks meant to hurt to other one. Meeting up when Carlos couldn’t join changed into only seeing each other when Carlos dragged the both of you in the same place. Always texting with each other, sending memes towards each other eventually changed into ignoring each other on every social platform.

Whatever happened to cause the change between Lando and you, has never been clear to you. Sometimes you blame yourself for taking a bit more distance when Lando got his first girlfriend, but eventually it was Lando who really changed his attitude towards you. Sometimes you miss how it was before, or better said every time you see Lando you miss how it was before. Even if you were fighting your feelings for him, it was better then acting like you hate him. Of course you don’t hate Lando, how could you - especially after crushing on him for the longest time.

Your phone vibrates in your hand, you look at the text that’s coming in. It’s from Carlos. When you’re done toying with Lando, I’m at Ferrari. Saved you a seat. You should go to him now, that would be the smart thing to do. But Lando is still standing closely in front of you. Carlos believes that something else is going on between Lando and you, something that’s according to him caused by romantic feelings, but according to you that’s bullshit. Your crush on Lando doesn’t exist anymore, right?

“Funny to see the girl who believed in you the most turn into one of your biggest haters,” Lando mutters annoyed. He truly feels betrayed by the way you’re talking about him and the upcoming race. He means his earlier words. Sometimes he wonders how things would be between you two if he did some things different. A lot changed when he was dating his ex girlfriend, changes he can’t undo but he wants to fix them. If you’ll let him.

“Not a hater,” you reply, “just a realist.”

“Just watch me babygirl,” Lando says, “I’ll show you.”

“No thanks.”

“And after the podium I’ll find you and show you what else I can do,” Lando continues. He almost sounds dangerous. It causes you to feel flustered. What is he talking about?

“The chances of you’re winning the race are as low as the chances of us going to fuck,” you tell him as if it’s a fact, while in reality you’re not so sure about yourself.

“Seems like a good celebration, I’ll find you after the race,” Lando says, he has found his confidence back.

“You’re crazy,” you sigh, “I’m not listening to this any longer.”

“See you after the race babygirl,” Lando says when you walk away from him.

“You won’t.”

+++

Fuck. Did this actually happen? You don’t know whether to laugh or to cry when you’re looking at Lando who’s screaming from happiness while getting out of his car. How did he actually win todays race? What does this mean? What is going to happen now? Is Lando expecting that you’ll have sex with him now? Fuck.

You see the way your brother is hugging with Lando, how happy he is for his friend. It makes you think about how you felt before. Every time Lando stood on the podium you’d beam with pride, you love(d) seeing him on the podium. It was you who always told Lando that he would be standing on the top step soon and that you’d be there to celebrate with him. How things changed.

While looking at Lando who’s still celebrating with his team, you think back about the day things really went wrong between Lando and you. It has been months before it all crashed down, months filled up with weird tension and uncomfortable moments. Which all started when Lando got a girlfriend. You can’t blame him for that, you still don’t, but you just didn’t like her. Maybe it was because of your crush on Lando, maybe it was because his girlfriend sensed something and made sure that Lando and you couldn’t spend any time together anymore.

“You don’t get it Lando,” you tell him, “I never get to see you anymore, you’re always busy and don’t make time for me anymore. What changed? Are you bored of me? Am I not fun enough to be your friend anymore?”

“No, that’s not it,” Lando quickly says, “I just don’t have the time anymore.”

“You seem to have time for everyone expect for me,” you bitterly state, “I’m not stupid, I see how you’re traveling all around the world to meet up with every friend you have.”

“It’s different,” Lando defends himself.

“Just tell me what I did wrong,” you sigh, “since you’re in a relationship everything changed between us.”

Lando knew at that moment that he should tell you the truth. How he only agreed to his relationship so he could forget about his feelings for you, but he doesn’t dare to say so. And now he’s in a relationship with a weird influencer who seems to hate you and who doesn’t ‘allow’ him to see you anymore. He really should break up with her, but what will happen then?

“It’s just that she doesn’t like you,” Lando eventually tells you, “and as her boyfriend I need to chose her side, I guess?”

“So that’s it? Your girlfriend, from two months, doesn’t like me so you just decided to stop spending time with me, your friend from multiple years?” You ask confused. This time you don’t wait for Lando to continue. “That’s just, fuck, I don’t know what to say to that. Good to know my worth,” you continue sadly.

After his confession which still wasn’t the whole story, Lando didn’t know what to say anymore. He watched how you left, but didn’t follow you to make things right. Maybe it’s for the better for now. There’s nothing he can do for now. He has a girlfriend, he needs to forget about his feelings for you and move on.

Two hours later he broke up with his girlfriend, but then he was already blocked by you.

After Lando celebrated with his team, almost all the other drivers and everyone else who congratulated him, you’re waiting for him to get on the podium. You feel weird while watching Lando on the podium. There’s a part of you who’s incredibly proud of him, a part that wants nothing more then to run over to Lando and hug him and tell him how proud you are of him. The other side of you is only thinking about what will happen next.

When Lando is standing on the podium, you can’t stop thinking about how hot he looks. When Carlos finds his place next to you and watches Lando with you, he notices the way you keep looking at his best friend. “I really wouldn’t be mad if there would happen something between Lando and you,” Carlos tells you for the millionth time. “You’re crazy,” you reply annoyed.

What Carlos and you both don’t notice is the way Lando is looking for you from the podium. When you look up again, you lock eyes with Lando. He sends you a wink. Fuck.

After the podium you walk away together with Carlos, you want nothing more then get back to the hotel and sleep. This day was confusing and long, you can’t wait for it to end. Lando notices you walking away, without thinking about it he walks away from the press and starts to get towards you. He hurries and almost runs towards you. When he finally reaches you, he grabs your arm.

“What the fuck,” you mutter when you feel someone grabbing your arm. Surprised you stop walking and look behind you. You don’t even know if you are surprised or not when you notice that it’s Lando.

“You’re coming with me,” Lando tells you with a stern voice. Carlos looks confused at the two of you. You can only sigh. What are you going to say to this? You really don’t know. Slowly you nod at Lando, confusing your brother only more. Lando is quick to say a goodbye to Carlos and starts to walk off with you.

+++

Lando dropped you in his drivers room. He still has media duties, but he wanted to make sure that you didn’t leave in the mean time. While giving interviews and talking with everyone, his mind is focused on you. He can only hope that you’re still waiting for him.

In the mean time you keep thinking about what to do. You’re stressed out because of everything that’s happening. What will happen when Lando comes back from his interviews? Are the two of you going to talk things out and finally make it right? Or are you going to fight? Or is Lando actually for real and does he wants to fuck you?

Eventually the stress makes you crazy. You decide to call your brother. Who knows for how long Lando is busy, you really need to talk with someone about this and who’s better then one of Lando his best friends? You know that your brother knows about your earlier feelings for Lando, so you can only hope that he will help you now. What if your feelings return? Or better said, what if you finally realize that they have never left?

“Carlos you really need to help me,” you start to speak when Carlos picks up.

“No, no, you need to tell me what’s going on between Lando and you! He left an interview to pick you up and now he’s doing interviews again? Where are you?” Carlos reacts.

“I’m in his drivers room,” you confess, “but I don’t know what will happen between us.” After that you explain to your brother what happened earlier today when he left Lando and you alone. Carlos chuckles when you tell him about Lando his bold replies.

“What do you want to happen?” Carlos asks you eventually.

“I don’t know,” you say honestly.

“You do know,” Carlos replies, “you’re just not honest to yourself. But we both know that you’re still in love with Lando.”

Before you can react to those words, Lando is entering his drivers room. You can only pray that he didn’t hear anything from what Carlos just said. “Lando’s here,” you tell Carlos on the phone, “I’ll talk to you later.” Before hanging up you hear Carlos say something childish in the lines of ‘doing it safe’. As if Lando wants something like that to happen you think annoyed.

“What am I doing here Lando?” You ask.

“I’m getting my reward,” Lando tells you with a small smirk on his face.

“Your reward?” You ask confused.

“The chances of you winning the race are as low as the chances of us having sex,” Lando speaks up, “Remember those words babygirl?”

“What do you want Lando?” You ask him.

“You.”

Lando his answer makes you shiver. His following movements make it only worse. Without giving it a second thought, Lando pulls you into himself. His finger is under your chin, softly lifting it up for himself. He looks you into your eyes, searching for some sort of approval before he continues with his movements. When you show him a quick nod, he’s sure about it. Lando presses his lips against yours.

Fuck, you can’t remember the last time a kiss felt so good. Now that you think of it, a kiss probably never felt this good before. It feels like everything is finally falling into it’s place. Lando pulls you as close into himself as he can manage. Your lips don’t leave his. When you feel Lando his hands on your body, a soft moan leaves your lips. Lando feels it vibrate against his own. Slowly he pulls back from you.

“Lan,” you softly whimper when he doesn’t stop looking at you.

“What is it babygirl?” He asks you. It’s the first time in a year that the nickname feels sweet instead of sarcastic.

“Do something please,” you beg.

Lando is quick to respond to your pleas. His hands find your body. Slowly he explores your curves while he presses some soft kisses on your neck, shoulders and face in the mean time. When Lando his hands are getting lower, you’re quick to lift up your skirt for him. Lando smirks when he notices it.

“What do you want me to do?” Lando asks you.

“If you can win,” you softly say, “then you also can fuck me I guess.”

This time Lando doesn’t hide his excitement anymore. He shows you an enthusiastic grin and moves away from you. Before you can complain, he’s already sitting in front of you. He takes off your skirt and starts to trace figures onto your still clothed cunt. He feels how your string is already damp.

“You guess?” Lando asks you.

“Don’t tease,” you tell him, “just fuck me already.”

Lando removes your string from your body. He moves his head closely to your cunt and presses a soft kiss against your clit. He’s in conflict with himself, he wants to take his time with you and show you exactly what he has to offer but he also just wants to fuck you right now until the both of you are lost for words.

“Lan,” you whimper.

“Can’t I take my time with you babygirl?” Lando asks you teasingly. In the mean time he pulls down his race suit and boxers.

“Next time,” you reply.

It makes Lando’s heart miss a beat. You’re thinking about a next time? His smile gets bigger again. He pulls you closer to him and aligns his dick with your entrance. You grab his hair in the mean time and try to get Lando closer towards yourself so you can kiss him again. When Lando lets his dick enter your body, it causes you to let out a loud moan.

“Fuck,” Lando groans, “waited fucking four years to feel this.”

You barely hear him. Lando his words surprise you. Four years ago the two of you just met. At that time Carlos just got Lando as his new teammate. What does Lando mean with this. Before you can make things more clear for yourself, Lando continues to speak.

“Always wanted to fuck you,” Lando grunts, “Always thought about fucking you.”

Does this mean what you think it means?

“What about..” You start to ask. “Don’t say her name,” Lando is quick to interrupt you. How does he already know that you’re talking about his ex? “Only got with her so I could forget you,” he confesses.

“Fuck,” you moan, you don’t know but after Lando his sudden confession the sex feels even ten times better then before. “Always wanted you to fuck me as well,” you confess.

That makes Lando slow down.

“Waited four years for you,” you continue to confess.

This time Lando stops moving inside of you.

“Are you serious babygirl?” Lando asks confused.

“Yes,” you softly tell Lando, “I’ve had a crush on you for the longest time.”

Lando grins, “That’s good,” he says, “Really good.” He picks up his earlier pace and continues to fuck you. When the both of you reached your high, Lando carefully pulls back. He pulls you onto himself. Holding you as close towards himself as he can.

“Four years right?” You ask Lando.

“Four years,” he replies with a nod.

The both of you let out a soft laugh. Suddenly nobody cares about what happened between you two in the last year. Sure, you will talk about it some time. But not now. Lando presses a kiss against your cheek.

“Did you really think I couldn’t get a win today?” Lando suddenly asks you.

“Lan,” you softly say, “I always believed you could get a win everywhere.”

“That’s a girlfriend thing to say,” Lando jokes, “Are you my girlfriend now?”

“Do you want me to be?”

“There’s nothing more I want to,” Lando confesses.

“Then I guess I’m your girlfriend,” you laugh. Lando kisses you again.

“Let’s grab dinner with your brother,” Lando suggests, “and after that I want you in my hotel room so I can take my time with you.”

“Deal.”

y/n: want to get dinner with me and my boyfriend?

y/n: he’s a race winner ;)

carlos: finally

#lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris x y/n #lando norris fanfiction #lando norris imagine #ln4 #formula one #f1 #lando norris smut #lando norris imagines

2K notes · View notes

smileysuh · 3 months

Text

Love Plug

🌙 starring. Johnny Suh x afab!Reader

🔮 preview. “The only things Johnny’s horny for are things that come in green: money and weed. He doesn’t date, babes, and you two are on a date.”

tw/cw. weed/drug use, shotgunning (kissing after John's taken a hit from a joint), reader likes wine, alcohol, plug!Johnny, unprotected sex, oral (f/m receiving) face riding, big dick john, 69-ing, size kink, grinding, multiple reader orgasms, fingering, pussy stretching, dirty talk, praise, ass groping, hand job, creampie/filling kink, cumming together, etc… I pet names: (hers) angel, sweet thing, good girl

👹 rating.18+ explicit I wc. 7.9k

🍭 aus. plug/drug dealer!Johnny, semi-strangers to lovers, Valentine's Day, etc…

☀️ mlist + an. I know this is slightly late, as it's Valentine's Day themed, but I hope ya'll like it anyway! big thank you to @sehunniepotwrites, my beta reader, my fellow John lover, my bestie- Love you girlie, thank you for helping me edit this to get it posted on time 💕

Being alone on Valentine’s Day is never fun. It would be one thing if you were with your girlfriends, but today, you’ll truly be alone. Everyone is busy, people are working, or with significant others- you feel like you’re the only person without plans, and it’s driving you completely insane.

Your apartment is spotless, you’d gone on a cleaning bender to distract yourself from today’s date, but as three o'clock rolls in, you find yourself sitting on your couch and staring at the ceiling.

There’d been a time in your life when boredom would make way for addictive traits. Dopamine-filled hobbies that you’ve since done your best to squash. But as three becomes four and you have nothing to satiate yourself - not even the pink bottle of wine in your fridge has been able to drown your loneliness - you begin to consider more drastic measures.

You’d never been a stoner, per se, but you’d gone with your cousin a few times to pick up from her run-of-the-mill dealer. If anything can help you relax and watch a movie, you think it might be some Grade A Indica.

Unknown number: Hi John, are you out today?

John: define out. Who is this

Unknown number: shit

Unknown number: my cousin gave me your number, I’ve picked up from you a few times

Unknown number: You probably don’t remember me but my name is y/n

John: I remember you

John: how much do you need?

Unknown number: I’m thinking $100 worth?

John: I’ll bring my shit. Text me your address and I can be over within the hour

Usually, when your cousin has gotten in contact with John, he comes to her apartment and the two of you go outside, filing into his truck. He has a duffle with jars full of weed, shatter, and the like. You give him money and he helps you decide what your night is going to look like.

When John calls you half an hour after you’ve texted him, you’re already almost at your door. “I’ll be down in a sec,” you tell him, searching for your keys.

“How about you buzz me up instead?” he suggests. “I’m outside the front door.”

You freeze for a moment. As far as you know, John’s never come up to your cousin’s apartment, and the idea of inviting the sexy local plug up into your one bedroom is sketchy… but at the same time, you’re feeling kind of desperate.

“Okay, type my apartment number into the keypad and I’ll let you in. The elevator will take you to my floor.”

You hang up, and a moment later your phone rings again. You press the buzz-up key and hold your breath.

You’re not sure if you’re scared of being alone with John because he’s a drug dealer or if you’re frightened of your own lack of self-control. John’s one of the sexiest men you’ve ever seen and this is Valentine’s Day. You’d been planning on maybe getting a little high, pulling out your vibrator, and having a good time with yourself… but if you could have a good time with him…

You give your head a shake, reaching for your bottle of wine. You pour the last bit of it into a cup, lifting it to your lips while you wait for the local plug to arrive at your door.

When he knocks, you practically jump, heart lurching in your chest. You scurry to your door, not wanting to make him wait- not wanting any of your neighbors to see the tall, sexy, tattooed man standing outside your home.

John greets you with a grin. “Special delivery,” he jokes, stepping past you and into the apartment and looking around. “You’ve got a nice place.”

“Thank you.”

You watch him head into the living space. He walks as if he’s been here before, as if he belongs here. The duffle makes a thumping sound when he nonchalantly sets it onto your small dining table, but John doesn’t immediately open it to show you the product like he does when you’ve bought from him before.

“Is it just me, or does it feel kind of sad in here?” John asks, turning to look at you.

“Hmm?”

“I just mean…” he gestures around, “spotless house, a pretty girl alone on Valentine’s Day… you haven’t bought from me in a while, sweet thing, I kind of thought you’d quit.”

“I did quit-” you stutter, “I mean… I was never a huge stoner or anything, so I wouldn’t say I quit-”

John grins while watching you search for an explanation. He leans back, palms flat on the dining table. The black v-neck he’s wearing shows off some of his chest piece and the tattoos on his neck are definitely a distraction as you try to formulate words.

“Look, all I’m saying is… I’d hate for you to lose your sobriety streak because you’re feeling lonely on Valentine’s Day.”

“I’m not exactly sober,” you scoff, reaching for your glass of wine.

“Is that a rosé?”

You look down at the liquid. “It’s a pink strawberry sparkling wine.”

“Sounds nice. Give me a taste.” He holds out a hand, and it’s clear that it’s more of a demand than a request, so with a sigh, you hand your cup to the local plug.

John swirls the glass, then he lifts it to his lips. He doesn’t sip, doesn’t take his time, he simply tilts his head back and downs the wine in two large gulps. When he’s done, he wipes his hand across his mouth, grinning mischievously. “Yummy.”

“That was the last of it,” you groan. “Now I have to hit the liquor store too.”

“Is it usual for you to get crossed, sweet thing? Weed and wine? You must really be feeling some type of way today.”

“So says the drug dealer working on Valentine’s Day.” You roll your eyes, annoyed that he’d downed your whole glass and isn’t cutting to the chase of your transaction.

“Ouch,” John laughs. “When did you get such a mouth on you?”

“Since you just drank an entire cup of wine in two seconds and started talking about my sobriety streak- are you going to sell me some weed or not?”

“For a girl with nowhere to be, you sound like you’re in a rush,” John muses. “You want to get me out of your home that badly, huh?”

“I mean, I would have preferred meeting you at your car,” you admit.

John simply shrugs. “And I wanted to see how dire your situation was. Clearly, it’s pretty fucked. Listen, we can still go down to my car if you want.”

“Will you sell me the weed if I go with you?”

“Nah, but I can take you out for a drink instead.”

His words hang heavy in the air, and your mind does mental gymnastics to make sense of the suggestion.

Is he asking you out?

Finally, you ask, “Aren’t you working?”

“The good thing about being your own boss is you can always say fuck it, I wanna go to a bar,” John points out. “So are you going to come with me and let me distract you better than weed would? Or are you going to mope around here with no wine, no weed, and no sexy plug to make you feel better?”

You definitely have a sexy plug or two hidden away under your bed that could make your day better- but you don’t tell John that. Instead, you let out a sigh. “I guess I have nothing better to do.”

“That’s the spirit, sweet thing, now let’s go on an adventure.”

The place he takes you to is a complete dive. It’s a dark ambiance, and as you settle onto a bar stool, you notice the stickiness of the counter in front of you. John, however, seems completely at home here. He doesn’t mind the alcohol-stained wood, leaning over it to speak to the bartender over the loud rock music that plays through the establishment. “Two shots of the regular,” he announces.

“You got it, Johnny,” she laughs, turning to grab a bottle of whiskey from one of the higher shelves.

“So I guess I don’t have to ask if you come here often,” you breathe.

“And I don’t have to ask if you’ve been here before. You stick out like a sore thumb, sweet thing. Relax a little.”

You let out a sigh. “Are we really going to do whiskey shooters?”

“I’m buying so I’m choosing,” John insists. “But if you want a cocktail or something, you can get that too, on me.”

So instead of taking your money today, he’s spending his money on you.

John is an enigma, and the confusion you feel has you more curious than ever.

“So how’d a guy like you get into your line of work?” you ask.

“He’s eighteen, gets stupid tattoos on his neck and hands, is rejected from other lines of work, and then discovers he has a talent for growing the best weed in town,” John responds. “Although, between you and me, I’m pretty good at growing orchids too.”

You had not pegged him as a plant guy. He’s always seemed so one-dimensional, and you realize now that your stereotype of him had been wrong. You’d never have thought John was the one actually growing the product he sells, and the idea of him nursing an orchid - a famously difficult flower - has your heart softening.

The bartender returns, setting two shots in front of you and John. “How’s your day going, Hyuna?” John asks, picking up a conversation with her.

“It’s going,” she sighs.

“Ouch, that doesn’t sound good,” John muses, pushing one of the shooters in front of you. “I thought you were seeing that new guy- the finance bro. Figured you’d be with him today.”

“I’m not sure he’s the commitment type.” Hyuna brushes her long dark hair over a shoulder, looking between you and John. “Besides, someone has to run this lonely hearts club here. You’re ruining the single vibe by bringing a date.”

“My bad for not introducing her, by the way,” John grins. His arm comes around the back of your chair, and he pulls you closer. “This is sweet thing, I’m saving her from making bad decisions today.”

“Yeah? And how are you doing that?” Hyuna laughs.

“By substituting one drug for another.” John picks up his shooter, turning to you. “To bad decisions.”

With a sigh, you grab your own shot, lifting it to clink against John’s. “To bad decisions,” you echo.

The whiskey is like fire as you shoot it, and you have to do your best not to sputter from how bad it tastes. You feel your face scrunch up involuntarily, and it earns laughs from Hyuna and John.

“I think we can all agree Johnny’s taste in alcohol is a bad decision,” Hyuna muses. “What can I get you, sweet thing?”

You order your drink of choice. John asks for three more shooters. When Hyuna sets them all down in front of you, John holds one out to her. “This one’s for you. I’m sorry it’s not working out with finance bro.”

Hyuna assesses the shot, then, with a groan, she grabs it. “I shouldn’t be doing this.”

“No one’s gonna care,” John insists. “And we both know your manager is in love with you. Just take the shot, babes.”

Hyuna rolls her eyes and downs the drink. She sets the glass down, her perfectly manicured black nails dragging along it momentarily. “You and your annoying tastes.”

“You’ll learn to love this,” John assures her. “You learned to love me, right?”

“After I got over how annoying you are.”

John only laughs. He downs another shot, bringing his total to three. Then he stands up abruptly. “Vape break,” he announces. “You girls better not have too much fun without me.”

You watch him leave, sipping on your cocktail.

“So how did you two meet?” Hyuna asks, half turning to remove some glasses from the washer so she can polish them while you chat.

You lean forward, whispering, “He’s literally my plug.”

“John’s everyone’s plug,” Hyuna laughs.

“How about you? He’s a regular?”

“Yeah, but I also dated his sister once upon a time,” Hyuna explains. “He was her annoying kid brother. I did my best to be nice to him but things didn’t end so well with her- then three years later he came in here, all tattooed and wreaking of weed- He recognized me right away, and he’s been coming in here ever since. Tips good too.”

You’d been wondering about the specificities of their relationship. Hyuna’s gorgeous, like- one of the prettiest bartenders you’ve ever seen. Her lean arms are covered in intricate tattoos, her nails are filed to points, her hair is perfect, her cheekbones are prominent and her lips are puffy like pillows-

Who wouldn’t have a crush on her?

“He’s an interesting guy,” you muse finally.

“Don’t let his tattoos fool you,” Hyuna says, meeting your eye. “He’s a sweetheart. He just likes to look all tough because of his job.”

You consider what she’s just said.

“So…” your throat feels a little dry. “Does he often come in here with girls?”

“Never. And especially not on Valentine’s Day.” Hyuna sets a cup down, leaning over the bar top to get a good look at you. “So tell me, sweet thing, what’s the end goal here?”

“Hmm?”

“Johnny might be an annoying plug, but like I said, he’s a good guy. I’m not dating his sister anymore, but he’s still like a kid brother to me. I don’t want to see him get hurt.” There’s a beat of silence. “He’s giving you heart eyes, and he let you choose your own drink. John doesn’t even let me choose my own drink once in a blue moon when we go out. He’s also never cared about what drugs I do, so why does he care so much about you? What makes you so special?”

“I…” you set your cocktail down. “I really can’t answer that.”

Hyuna cocks her head, pursing her lips. “Girl to girl, don’t be a bitch to him. I’m the one he’s going to come crying to if you reject him really hard. Let him down softly, if you have to.”

“Honestly, girl to girl, I don’t even know if he’s into me that way.”

“Sweet thing,” Hyun scoffs, “you must be blind as a bat. Don’t you see the way he’s looking at you?”

“I sort of thought he was just horny for Valentine’s Day.”

The bartender lets out a barking laugh. “The only things Johnny’s horny for are things that come in green: money and weed. He doesn’t date, babes, and you two are on a date.”

Your lips part to respond, but the door to the bar opens and John comes back inside. He lumbers over with a grin, taking the seat next to you. His arm slides around the back of your chair and he leans forward, looking between you and Hyuna. “So what did I miss?”

“Nothing important,” Hyuna lies.

“In that case, I think I’m going to order a-”

“You’re aware that at some point I’ll have to take your keys away, right?” Hyuna raises a brow at John. “I just gave you three shots, you have one sitting in front of you still-”

“We both know I’m a heavyweight,” John insists.

“Sure you are,” Hyuna rolls her eyes, “and your skin is naturally pink.”

You assess John. Hyuna must have good vision, because in the shitty lighting of the bar, you can hardly tell that John has definitely flushed from the alcohol. His cheeks are a rosy hue, and he looks as boyish as ever, a stark contradiction to the neck tattoos that are also beginning to blossom with color.

“How about this… two more shots,” John bargains, holding up three fingers.

Hyuna scoffs loudly.

“How about… two more shots,” John continues to hold three fingers, “And I’ll buy dessert so my body doesn’t turn into a complete whiskey barrel.”

“Two desserts and you have a deal,” Hyuna sighs.

“Two desserts it is.” John sits back in his chair. “What are you thinking, sweet thing? This place has a really good brownie, although, there's no weed in it.”

“We’ve also got apple pie with ice cream, tiramisu from the Italian place next door-” Hyuna does her best to be helpful, and you’re beginning to appreciate the tough love elder sister act thing she has going on.

You order the dessert that sounds most to your liking, and as you wait, John begins to ask about your cousin. “She’s a trooper,” he muses. “I sold her this massive thing of mushrooms last week and she texted me like two days ago asking for more.”

“She’s a heavy hitter for sure,” you agree.

“She told me once that she only does things like weed and shrooms because they come from the Earth,” John continues. “Never asks for links to cocaine or MDMA or anything- just the Earthy shit. She told me it’s cuz she’s a Taurus.”

You laugh. “That’s my cousin.”

“It was interesting meeting you for the first time,” John continues. “Your cousin gets into the car, knows exactly what strains of weed she wanted- pretty sure she was buying shatter. And there you are, asking for a blunt. Didn’t know if you wanted indica or sativa or a hybrid…” John shakes his head, as if it was the most baffling experience in the world. “In the end, I gave you some indica. Could tell you had a lot of anxiety and shit. I was kind of happy when you stopped buying, I’d hoped you’d found some other outlets or something.”

“I picked up wine,” you say, only half joking.

“Look, on our way back to your place to drop you off, I’ll stop and pick up a bottle for you to make up for what I drank earlier, deal?”

“Deal.”

John grins, and then you see his hand dipping down into his pocket. “Vape break.”

You watch John lumber outside again, and you release a deep sigh, meeting Hyuna’s eye. “Boys and their vapes.”

Dessert had helped mellow John out somewhat, and he’d actually been pretty law abiding while driving to the liquor store after. The two of you are now walking around the aisles, with John asking you all sorts of questions about your preferences when it comes to booze.

It feels shockingly domestic, especially when people go to move past you and John’s hand finds the small of your back, gently prompting you in front of him to make way for others to go by.

“What if I get us two bottles, and you let me come up for a movie,” John suggests as you reach for a replacement wine from earlier.

“What sort of movie?” you ask.

“Anything you want.”

“Are you sure I’m the only lonely one today?” you tease. “You’re being pretty clingy, John.”

“Anxious girls love a man that clings,” the plug insists. “Here, I’ll sweeten the pot for my sweet thing. Three bottles of wine, on me, and I’ll hand roll a blunt that will blow your socks off.”

“What happened to not wanting me to lose my no-weed streak?”

“I never said I’d let you smoke it, I just said I’d hand roll it and you’d be super impressed by my skills.”

You let out a laugh. It’s shocking how much your opinion of him has changed in a few short hours. You can’t believe how comfortable he’s making you feel.

“Fine. Three bottles,” you agree.

John grabs two more to join the one in your hand, and you head to the checkout. As you’re waiting in line, his phone rings, and he brings it to his ear.

“Hey, Mark…” John’s eyes meet yours. “I mean, I’m kind of busy… You really need it huh? Okay, give me a sec.” The plug presses his phone to his chest. “I’ve got a buddy who wants to link up. He lives pretty close by. It would take like… ten or fifteen minutes max. You good with that?”

“Yeah,” you agree. “Sounds okay.”

John lifts his phone back to his ear. “Okay, I’ll be there in ten minutes. You better be waiting outside though, I told you I’m busy.”

A short while later, you’re sitting in the front passenger’s seat of John’s truck as he pulls up in front of an apartment building. A man in a hoodie and baseball cap is standing there, and he quickly gets into the back, giving you an odd look.

“Mark, this is sweet thing. Sweet thing, this is Mark,” John says smoothly.

“Dude. I didn’t know you had a girlfriend.”

John ignores the comment. “How much are you spending today?”

“Five hundred.” Mark pulls a wad of bills out of his pocket.

“The usual?” John asks, reaching down for the duffle by your feet.

“Half shrooms, quarter indica flower, quarter butter or shatter, whatever you think is best today.”

“You got it.” John sets the duffle gently on your lap, rifling through it. He begins to pull things out, like a jar full of weed. As John sections it off into bags, Mark leans forward to get a better look at you.

“Sorry for interrupting your plans,” he says sheepishly.

“That’s okay,” you assure him.

“You guys up to anything fun?”

“Movie night,” John answers, tossing a baggie of weed back at his friend.

“Nice.” Mark nods to himself, waiting patiently.

Soon, John’s fulfilled the order. Mark hands the cash to the plug, and with one final nod and half smile, he gets out of the car.

“So…” John’s hand returns to the wheel. “Movie night?”

You’re two glasses of wine into the movie when John begins to roll a joint. He’s seated next to you on the couch, his thigh just touching yours as he bends over the coffee table. For a guy with such large hands, he’s more adept than you would have thought he’d be at the fine-tuned movements needed to make the perfect joint.

You’re more enthralled by him than the movie at this point, and you can’t help the way your body reacts when he lifts up his nearly finished product to swipe his tongue across the paper. He seals the joint masterfully before turning to meet your gaze. “I’m gonna pop onto your deck for a moment to smoke this.”

“I’ll join you,” you tell him immediately, pausing the movie to stand up.

You follow him outside, momentarily taken aback by how cold it’s gotten.

John pulls a lighter out of his pocket, and after one sharp flick, he begins to smoke the joint.

You like the way his jaw looks in the shadows of light from the deck lamp. He’s so handsome and regal-

The cloud of smoke he exhales is bigger than anything you’d ever be able to do yourself, and even that is sexy in some odd way.

“You’re really not going to give me a hit?” you ask.

“Nope.” John looks at you with a lazy expression and a half smile. “You’re the good girl, and I’m the bad guy, remember.”

“Bad guy,” you scoff.

“Why are you laughing, sweet thing? I’m a plug with tattoos. I’m bad.”

“You’re a softie.”

Now it’s his turn to laugh. “Says who?”

“Says me,” you insist.

“Yeah? And how do you figure?”

You think about it for a moment before responding. “You’ve taken care of me today… even though you didn’t have to.”

“Well, I wanted to.” John takes another puff, blowing it in your face. “It was pretty self-serving actually.”

You roll your eyes, waving away the smoke. “Sure it was, John.”

“Johnny,” he says quietly. “Call me Johnny.”

You stare at him, taking in his pretty face, the way his perfect lips wrap around the joint when he takes a puff. “Johnny… be for real. Why are you here?”

He lets out a laugh, but there’s little humor in it. “Isn’t it obvious?”

You shake your head, holding your breath while you wait for him to elaborate.

Johnny sighs. “Look. I’ve always liked you. I liked having you come around, needing an explanation about weed, and joints versus blunts, and indica versus sativa- it was like… it was like having a little bit of sunshine every once in a while. Then you stopped buying, and I was happy about that, but I also wasn’t. Hadn’t heard from you in months, didn’t have your number, couldn’t ask your cousin about you- you texted, and it’s Valentine’s Day, and I came up and saw you were alone- and… I don’t know… I just hate missed opportunities, and I couldn’t let this one pass me by.”

You’re really not sure what to say. His demeanor is usually kind of joking, he’s the type to always have a smile- but right now, he’s not smiling, not joking- he’s being dead serious.

“I’m happy I messaged you.” You feel stupid as the words leave your lips, but they bring back Johnny’s boyish grin.

“Yeah?”

“Uh huh,” you step closer, looking up at the tall plug. “Thanks for taking me out for drinks.”

“It would have been a crime to leave a sweet thing like you alone on Valentine’s Day, and trust me, I know all about crime.”

God, he’s such a goof. Why is he so endearing?

“Do you know about shotgunning?” you ask.

Johnny’s brows furrow for a second. “I’m shocked you know about shotgunning.”

“Do you wanna try it?”

The plug looks you up and down. “Is this a ploy to get at my joint?”

“Nuh uh,” you shake your head.

Johnny leans forward, meeting your eyes as his lips almost brush past your own. “Liar.”

He pulls away, slotting the joint in his mouth. He watches you while taking a long drag. Then he’s removing the joint and bending down again, meeting your gaze.

You lean forward, reaching to gently grab at his shoulders. Your heart is racing a million miles a minute in your chest, and you do your best to exhale, although it comes out shaky.

“Kiss me,” you whisper.

Johnny doesn’t have to be told twice, he closes the distance, pressing his lips to yours in an open-mouthed kiss. He exhales the smoke into your lungs and you do your best to breathe it in, but Johnny’s so much bigger than you, and you have to pull away before he’s completely finished his breath.

You sputter a little, feeling tears in your eyes. There’s a rush through your body, and you feel a little wobbly, but your grip on Johnny keeps you standing.

“John-” As soon as you’ve recovered, he’s kissing you again, but this time, it’s not for the purpose of shotgunning.

This time, he’s kissing you like he means it.

Like he needs it.

His large hand cups your cheek, and he releases a soft groan when you kiss him back, wrapping your arms tighter around his shoulders to pull him closer.

He tastes like weed and wine, and oddly enough it’s not a bad combination. As his tongue swipes past your lip and you open your mouth for him, you find yourself releasing a groan of pleasure.

Johnny returns the sound. In the periphery, you’re aware of him flicking the joint to the ground in favour of grabbing you with both hands. First, he cups your hips, pulling you flush against him, but after a moment, he reaches down to squeeze your ass too.

You go for a breather, and he takes the opportunity to kiss your throat, teasing his tongue against your skin and making you shiver in the cold evening air.

“You know…” you thread your fingers through his hair, “if you won’t give me drugs to use for happy chemicals, the least you could do is give me an orgasm.”

Johnny chuckles, pulling away to look at you with eyes that somehow sparkle. “I thought that was a given, sweet thing.”

“It better be,” you tease, cupping the back of his neck to bring his lips to yours again.

This time, when the kiss deepens and Johnny bends down to cup your ass, he lifts you off the ground, prompting you to wrap your legs around his hips. He pushes the door open behind you, taking you back inside.

You��re so lost in his lips you almost don’t realize he’s moved past your couch, and then he’s gently laying you onto your bed. “So how do you like it?” he asks, pulling away so he can tear his hoodie and shirt off, revealing a toned chest, and all the tattoos you’ve been itching to see.

“I like it any way you want to give it to me. Dealers choice.”

Johnny lets out a laugh. “You’re cute.”

“You’re cute,” you retort, hooking your fingers in his belt to draw him closer again.

Johnny presses a hand to the bed by your head, bending over you so he can kiss you. Your thighs wrap around him, pulling him fully on top of you while you’re locked in the hottest tongue battle of your life.

He’s just so big and sexy- the weight of him is enough to have you gasping, even though he’s still holding himself up with his elbow now propped into the bed.

His free hand finds your hip, slipping under your shirt to trace your skin. Each brush of his fingers builds the fire in the pit of your stomach, and as he slowly moves to grasp your breast, you find yourself almost dying with need for him.

You whimper lewdly against his lips, pushing your chest up toward his palm. With a bra in the way, you can’t get the proper stimulus against your nipple, and within moments of him massaging your tits, you begin to tear your shirt off, needing more.

Johnny helps you remove the fabric, tossing it to the side so his mouth can find your throat. “You’re so pretty,” he muses, reaching under you to undo the clasp of your bra. “Can I take this off?”

“Yeah, fuck- let's get naked.”

Johnny chuckles, pulling away to look down at you. “You sure you didn’t drink too much wine, sweet thing?”

“I’m mostly sober.”

“And that shotgunning didn’t make you needy?”

“You make me needy,” you insist, cupping his face. “You know how you said you were into me months ago? When we first met, I swear I thought you were the sexiest plug I’d ever seen.”

“Probably the only plug you’d ever seen,” Johnny points out with a grin.

“John,” you meet his gaze, “earlier, when you first got here, I wasn’t even sure if I should invite you up. I was worried I’d lose my self-control and jump you or something- trust me, the physical attraction has always been there, but… getting to know you today, I like who you are inside too… so, just fuck me, yeah?”

“Happy fucking Valentine’s Day to us lonely hearts, huh?”

Instead of answering, you kiss him again, tangling your fingers in his hair. Johnny groans when you tug gently, and he grinds his hips down against your own. You can feel the bulge of his cock as it drags against your core, and you’re pretty sure your panties are going to be ruined after this.

You can’t help yourself, you trace your hand down from his shoulders to his chest, then his abdomen- then you cup his cock, applying pressure that has him moaning again, thrusting against your hand for friction.

“I think I kind of want you in my mouth,” you admit breathlessly.

“That’s funny, I want you in mine.”

You think about it for a moment. “Sixty-nine?”

“Fuck, you’re a girl after my own heart, aren’t you, sweet thing?”

You can only grin, heart thundering in your chest as you push at Johnny’s shoulders, prompting him to roll onto his back.

“You take off your pants, and I’ll take off mine,” you suggest, getting off of him so you can work on your jeans.

Johnny doesn’t need to be told twice, and you watch the way his muscles ripple under his skin as he hurries to get naked.

He’d never actually taken off your bra, so you do that yourself. In moments, you’re both completely nude.

You stare at Johnny, taking in his cock.

He’s rock-hard and huge. It makes you excited, but you’re also not sure how well you’ll be able to take him. He must be at least seven or eight inches, and thick too, with a pretty mushroom tip that’s already leaking precum.

He grins at your reaction. “Think you can handle this, sweet thing?”

“Something tells me you’ll make it fit.”

“You got that right,” he laughs. “Now come sit on my face, wanna taste that pretty pussy.”

There’s something so suave about half-baked Johnny. He speaks with an almost melodic tone, it’s deep and sensual, and your pussy throbs just from the words coming out of his mouth.

As you crawl onto the bed, getting into position, his hands are careful against your form, helping you settle as you swing a thigh over his head, hovering your core over his mouth. Instead of waiting for you to sit down, Johnny lifts himself up a little, burying his face in your pussy before you can even touch his cock.

“Fuck-” you whimper, grabbing the base of his length as he pushes his tongue deep inside of you, licking the length of your slit.

You would love nothing more than to enjoy his mouth on you for hours- but you have your own job to do, and you’re already drooling. You bring his mushroom tip to your lips, gently licking at him.

Johnny’s large hands find your ass, and he squeezes you gently. “No teasing,” he mumbles, and the vibration against your clit has you squirming down on his face.

You take him into your mouth, sucking on the tip and twirling your tongue. Johnny immediately releases a groan before diving back into your pussy. He grabs your hips pulling you down tighter against his face.

It’s hard to know what to focus on. He feels so good with his mouth worshiping your pussy, but at the same time, you’re kind of obsessed with sucking his cock. He’s so huge, and you want to see how much you can take. You sink further onto his length, feeling your lips stretch at the intrusion-

God, he’s going to absolutely wreck your pussy. You can’t even fit half of him in your mouth before he’s hitting the back of your throat, and as you constrict around him, he releases lewd sounds of pleasure that have your core practically throbbing with need.

You pull off of him, if only to collect your saliva as lube so you can stroke what your mouth can’t reach. Taking a breath and steadying yourself, you grind gently against his tongue, moaning loudly. Then you take him past your lips again, getting lost in the act of simultaneous giving and receiving.

You’re lost in him, so lost that you don’t even know how long you’ve been in this position- but you can feel an orgasm bubbling in the pit of your stomach every time Johnny focuses on your clit.

You find yourself grinding harder against his face, and as the feeling builds, you can’t help but pull off of his cock, gasping and moaning. “Fuck, Johnny, I’m gonna-”

“Cum for me,” he groans, squeezing your ass as he kitten licks your clit. “Don’t hold back. Cum on my face, sweet thing, give me everything.”

You’re stroking his cock mindlessly, your muscles tensing as Johnny takes your clit into his mouth, sucking and licking-

“Oh my God-” you whimper, toes curling-

Your orgasm washes over you like a wave. It tingles through every inch of your being, throbbing out from your core. You and Johnny both release groans of satisfaction, and the knowledge that he’s enjoying having you cum on his face only makes your pussy clench tighter.

You’re practically riding his tongue now, chasing the last inklings of your high until you’re absolutely breathless.

Johnny presses one last kiss to your clit, and then he’s tapping your ass gently. “Gonna roll onto your back and let me fuck you like the good girl you are?”

“God, yes,” you groan. Your legs are shaky but you get off of Johnny’s face, collapsing next to him.

“Damn, sweet thing, that was a good one, huh?” Johnny laughs, sitting up and stroking your thigh.

“So good,” you whimper, still feeling the aftershocks.

Johnny gets between your legs, elbow pressing into the bed next to your head as he dips close to kiss your neck. “The way you were grinding against my face was so fucking hot.”

“Johnny-” You wrap your legs around him, feeling absolutely desperate for his cock.

“You’ll have to be a little patient for me, sweet thing,” Johnny sighs, one large hand cupping your breast and teasing past your nipple. “I’ve gotta stretch you out before you can take me.”

“What if I want you now?”

“Like I said,” his breath is hot against your throat, “you’ll have to be patient.”

“What if I want you to wreck me?”

Johnny laughs, pulling away to look at you. “You’re not as innocent as you look, are you, angel?”

You trace your fingers along the fine line, black and white, Japanese Oni mask tattoo that sits on his chest between his defined pectoral muscles. “Not when it comes to you.”

The plug simply grins at your words, his hand trailing down until it reaches your core. Two thick fingers prod at your opening, and you spread your legs even wider to accommodate him. He teasingly dips the first digit inside of you and you release a moan at how good it feels, but he’s quick to pull it out and circle your clit.

“You know what you said earlier?”

He lets out a humming sound.

“About not teasing?” you correct. “If you’re making me wait for you to prep me, you better not take your sweet time with it.”

“You’ll have to let me take my time with you next time then.”

“Next time?” You cock a brow.

“Yeah,” Johnny ghosts his lips over your own. “Next time.”

“Deal, now finger fuck me open then give me your cock.”

“Jesus, I love it when you talk dirty,” Johnny groans, dipping his finger into your core again. “Tell me more.”

“You just feel so fucking good,” you groan, swiveling your hips. “Even one finger- you’re just so big- Johnny, how are you so big?”

“You haven’t really experienced the Big yet,” John points out, adding a second digit that he scissors inside of you, stretching you out for him.

In response, you reach down and wrap your hand around his cock, pumping him gently. “I’m gonna feel you inside me for days after this.”

“Especially if you let me fuck you tomorrow, and the day after- you could feel me forever if you wanted to.”

“Forever, huh?” You let out a whimper as his digits work harder inside of you, crooking up to stroke your g spot with shocking precision.

“I’m still a little high, it’s making me… too honest.”

“I like honest,” you admit, cupping his face with your free hand, drawing his lips to yours. “I like you.”

“I like you too,” he whispers, kissing you deeper as he finger fucks you faster. “Okay, sweet thing, I think you’re just about ready for me- dripping all over my hand.”

“I’m ready,” you assure him, staring into those beautiful chocolate-brown eyes.

“Should I grab a condom?”

“Are you clean?”

“Yeah. Contrary to popular belief, I don’t fuck around that often. I’m not a one-night stand kind of guy.”

You giggle. “I’ve sort of noticed that.”

He kisses you again. “I can still grab a condom though.”

“No, I’m on birth control. I want you to fill me up with cock and cum until it’s all I can think about.”

“I can do that.” Johnny pulls his fingers out of your pussy, and before he can lick them clean, you grab his wrist and guide them to your own mouth. “Fuck, you’re so fucking hot, angel.”

You groan around his digits, sucking them clean. When you’re done, Johnny grabs your jaw, drawing your lips to his so he can taste you, his tongue gliding against your own.

You’ve still got his cock in your hand, and you pump him gently, adjusting against the blanket to get closer to him so you can guide his tip toward your core.

Johnny takes the hint, and he breaks the kiss, pressing his forehead against yours. His gaze dips to where your bodies meet, and he allows you most of the control as you drag his cock through your folds. “You really want this?”

“Just fuck me, John. Please don’t make me beg.”

He pushes forward, the tip of his cock sheathing in your tight core. “Holy shit,” Johnny groans.

“More.”

Johnny can only laugh, rubbing the tip of his nose against yours as he thrusts deeper into you. The two of you hold your breath as inch after inch stretches you open. You’re so wet, and it makes the process easier, but you can still feel Johnny everywhere.

You’re a wriggling, moaning mess by the time he’s fully inside of you.

Johnny’s breath is hot against your skin, and his chest is rising and falling with effort, his bicep bulging next to your head. “You good?”

“Yeah,” you nod, swallowing thickly.

“Can I-”

“Rail me. Break my back. Murder my pussy.”

Johnny laughs, pressing his lips to yours to shut you up as he begins to move his hips, pulling out only to thrust back in. You can feel your insides practically quivering with each drag of his length against your walls. He’s so big, and you’re stretched to the brink- the vein along the underside of his cock is an added stimulus that has your toes curling already.

You’ll never be the same after this.

No one’s cock is ever going to compare and you just know it.

Johnny’s lips can’t muffle the sounds of pleasure still escaping you, and you grab at his broad shoulders, tracing your nails against his skin.

It’s so easy to get lost in Johnny. He makes you feel safe, and the pleasure he’s giving you has time flying by like nothing else. Johnny’s mouth goes to your throat, teasing the spot that has you moaning even louder.

“Can I flip you over? Wanna see that ass.”

“Do anything you want with me,” you tell him, and you mean it.

With one last kiss, Johnny pulls out of you. His large hands find your hips. He manhandles you over, pulling your ass back and up so he can push into you again.

“Fuck,” you groan, grabbing at the bed sheets. “You’re even deeper like this-”

Each time his front meets your ass, the slapping sound turns you on even more. He’s practically rearranging your guts like this, and you don’t mind it one bit.

“Do you wanna rub your clit for me, sweet thing?” Johnny asks. “You’re so fucking tight around me, and I’m so sensitive when I smoke- not sure I’ll be able to last long, and I want you to cum with me. Wanna feel this pretty pussy all clenched and dripping-”

Every word has your body tingling, and you bring your fingers to your clit, rubbing in quick circles.

“Johnny-” you whimper.

“That’s it, angel. You feel so fucking good- so fucking good for me.” He grabs fistfuls of your ass, squeezing in a way that has you crying out. “Who’s my good girl?”

“Me!”

“Who’s taking this cock so fucking good?”

“Me!”

“Fuck-” Johnny lets go of your ass, wrapping a hand around your throat. He helps lift you up until your back is curved, shoulders pressed to his chest. His lips find your neck, hand dipping down to grasp your breast roughly, pinching your nipple.

“I’m gonna-”

“I know, sweet thing, me too-” He’s fucking into you like a god damned fuck machine, and each circle of your fingers on your clit has you closer and closer to the edge- “Fuck, okay, I’m there- shit, yeah, I’m there- you’re gonna cum with me, right? Gonna cum on my cock and let me fill you up?”

All you can do is whimper, your body fulfilling his ask before your brain can even fully process it. Your core clamps down hard on his cock, and Johnny releases a deep groan in your ear. He holds you close, squeezing you as his thrusts get erratic.

You can feel him cumming deep inside of you, and you’ve never felt this cock drunk in your life.

Nothing matters except Johnny and his huge cock filling you up to the brink. His lips are hot on your throat, and he fucks you through your highs, your pussy fluttering around him as wave upon wave of pleasure rocks through you.

As you both finish, he pushes himself fully inside of you. You can feel his cock throbbing, and his groans are music to your ears.

“Happy Valentine’s Day,” he whispers, letting out a soft laugh as he nuzzles against your cheek.

“Happy fucking Valentine’s Day,” you giggle, grabbing the hand on your breast and lifting it to your lips so you can kiss his palm.

He holds you for a few more moments, then he gently lowers you to the bed, cock still inside of you. “I’m gonna pull out,” he says, smoothing a hand over your ass. “You don’t mind if I watch it drip out of you for a second, right?”

“I’m just laying here,” you smile against the quilt.

Even so, it feels like a loss as he takes his cock out of your aching pussy. His hands are on your ass and he spreads your cheeks. “Fuck, sweet thing. This is the prettiest view in the whole fucking world.”

When you’d texted Johnny earlier for a link-up, you’d never expected this. Never expected to see this softer side of him.

You’re so fucking happy you reached out- he provided more than what you’d asked for.

“I busted a fat load in you, angel,” Johnny laughs, his thumb moving to rub your clit, causing you to whine and push back against him. “How about we go for a shower. I can wash you up, eat you out some more-”

“Damn, Johnny, are you pussy drunk?”

“Uh huh.” He leans over you, kissing up your spine and to your shoulder. “Valentine’s Day isn’t over yet, we should make the most out of it, right?”

You get the sneaking suspicion that you’re going to be making the most out of it with Johnny for many days to come, Valentine’s Day be damned. God. Your cousin is going to have a freak when she hears about this.

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🔮 preview. “You’ll like this. You always like this. You love cumming on my cock. But you don’t get my cum unless I get yours, that’s the deal, right?”

cw/ tw. Unprotected sex, grinding on his thigh, hand job, oral (m receiving) blow job, he spits in y/n’s mouth, spit as lube, masturbation, y/n touches herself while blowing Johnny, fingering masturbation, y/n rides his cock, multiple reader orgasms, praise, gentle degradation, dirty talk, breast worship/tit sucking, etc… I petnames. (hers) angel, sweet thing, good girl.

👹 rating. 18+ explicit I wc. 2.6k I teaser wc. 250

🌙 starring. Johnny x afab!Reader

bonus

You’ve gotten accustomed to your plug boyfriend. You’d only been dating for a month when he’d officially asked you to be his, but you know the two of you were exclusive to each other since that very first night you’d fucked.

Being with John is pretty easy- but his odd work schedule can be a bit of a pain. He never knows how busy he’s going to be, so you can plan date nights, but sometimes he has to push it back a few hours to do unexpected late-night deliveries.

If you’d been cock drunk for him after the first time he’d fucked you, you’re even more dependent on him now.

No drug in the world could fill you up and give you the pleasure that Johnny’s cock does, and you’ve become a little impatient when you have to wait for him to complete deliveries… although, you’d never bring it up with him

You know being a plug is his job. It’s what pays the bills and allows him to dote on you in ways you’d scarcely been able to imagine before meeting him.

Even so, you can feel your skin crawling, pussy practically aching with anticipation as he completes the last handful of orders for the night. He’d initially wanted to be over at your place by seven, but it’s nearly ten now, and you’re three hours behind on the fuck marathon you’d planned.

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peachesofteal · 6 months

Text

Light on - single mom/neighbors fic Simon Riley/female reader Prompt: You ask Simon to babysit for you last minute. For @that-fangirl-1106 and three anons

“Thank you so, so much. I owe you.”

Simon stops short at your door, brows raising in surprise. He expected to see you in your ‘house clothes’ as you call them, leggings, or an old pair of jeans with a t shirt. Instead, you’re wearing a skirt, a short skirt, swell of your breasts just visible inside the V of your shirt, and his stomach twists, confusion thrumming in his veins. What is this? Where are you going? When you called and asked him to help you watch Emma for a bit, he just assumed it was so you could run some errands or something, take some time for yourself. Not for… whatever this is.

You’ve got Emmaline on your hip, waist curved to accommodate her, and she’s babbling at you with a happy smile.

“Are you sure it’s not an inconvenience? My sitter bailed last minute.” The door lock clicks into place behind him, and he holds his tongue, stopping the flow of one hundred questions, biting down on the urge to pull you into his chest and tell you- you’re not actually going anywhere.

Would you agree? Would you look up at him with that sweet, beautiful face, and tell him that you won’t? That you’ll stay here, with him, instead. Where you belong.

“Simon?” Shit.

“It’s fine. I’m happy to help.” Emma coos, looking up at him, little legs wriggling in her onesie and his heart thumps a little harder, the green poison of jealously cooling just slightly when he realizes it doesn’t matter where you’re going. You’ll be coming home to him, and Emmaline, at the end of your night.

Still. He has to ask. He has to know.

“Where are you going?” You hand the baby to him, clucking softly, rubbing your fingers through her wispy crop of curls.

“Out with this guy I met!” You’re excited, practically beaming, and your fingers find the hem of your shirt, anxiously plucking at it. “It’s been a while since like-“ you stop yourself, embarrassment heating your face, and you clear your throat. “No one’s asked me on a date in a while. Single moms aren’t really… a hot commodity.” His stomach clenches at the idea of another man thinking you’re a hot anything, let alone even looking in your direction.

“Where are you going? Who is he?”

“To the little Thai spot on seventh.” You give him an odd look. “And he’s a guy I met at the library.”

“The library?”

“Yeah, during story time.” You’re pulling a jacket on, and he clenches his jaw so tight he could chew through concrete. “Alright, baby, love you.” You step into his orbit, dab of perfume still wet on your neck, heat pressing into his side when you bend to kiss Emma on her forehead. Your hand brushes his against her back, something clouding your gaze when you look up into his face, something hopeful and honeyed sweet, with just a glimpse of longing, enough that blood roars in his ears.

He should ask you to stay, tell you he’ll take you instead. Or take you somewhere better, take you anywhere you want to go.

But he doesn’t. Instead, he watches you slip out the front door, blowing the baby in his arms one last kiss goodnight with a wave of your palm.

An hour later, a key scrapes against the metal of the lock. He’s got Emmaline and her favorite stuffed giraffe in his arms, walking circles in the kitchen, bouncing her lightly to try to soothe her pre bedtime tears, a normal routine he’s seen you do more than once.

You slip through the door with a whispered apology, tired eyes rimmed in red.

“Hey.” You reach for Emma, giving her a big smile and holding her to your chest, little kisses from your lips dotting her head, her cheeks. Your eyes slip closed, tension sagging from your shoulders, and he frowns,

“What happened?”

“Nothing. He uh, didn’t show.” Oh, sweetheart. You shrug, brushing it off. “But that’s okay, isn’t it?” you coo at Emma, smoothing a hand up and down her back. “Yeah, that’s okay. Mum doesn’t need anyone but you, huh Emmaline?” You say something about putting her to bed, and he barely hears you, too busy thinking about finding the piece of shit that decided to stand you up and breaking every bone in his body.

You reappear once you’ve got her down, and he still hasn’t made himself scarce, lingering in your kitchen, hands in his pockets. He feels out of place, heart panging at the dejected look at your face.

“Fuck that guy.” He grunts, and you crack a smile, tucking your arms around yourself. “He’s an idiot.”

“Yeah.” You’re sullen, rejected, and it makes his blood boil, rage coursing through him knowing that someone made you feel less than the wonder you are. “Thanks for… I guess hanging out with her for a little while, at least. It was really nice of you.”

“Anytime.” The kitchen is silent for a moment, reflecting your somber mood, and just as he’s about to tell you how stupid that guy is, how much of fool he is to not see what he missed out on, how much he didn’t deserve a single second of your time, you sigh out a whispered confession.

“I guess it was pretty stupid.”

“What was stupid, sweetheart?”

“Going on a date when I have a baby at home. Thinking someone would even want a single mom with a baby at home.” You roll your eyes. “You know, as soon I got out the door, I was thinking about coming back? Couldn’t stop thinking about her. Wishing I was hanging out with my own daughter, and you… instead of going on a date.” His heart latches onto your words, hoarding them close, trying to memorize them so he can recall every syllable when he closes his eyes tonight.

“That’s not stupid.” He wants to comfort you, promise you that it’s the farthest thing from stupid.

“Maybe. Either way doesn’t matter, right? I got stood up.” You wince.

“Whoever he is, he doesn’t deserve a minute of your time.” Your lips part, a little stunned by the steadfast vow, before splitting into a delicate smile, and your head ducks.

“Thanks, Simon.”

#peaches writes #light on #simon riley #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader

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lady-ashfade · 11 months

Text

Jacket obsession

Spider-Verse: You leave a piece of clothing behind with a yandere.

Characters: Miles Morales, Gwen Stacy, 42!Miles Morales, Hobie Brown, Miguel O'Hara

Warnings: Obsession, stealing, yandere tendencies, just them going lovely over a piece of clothing.

Miles Morales:

Oh poor boy at first freaked out trying to get your attention before you enter the portal without your jacket.

“Wait! You’ll get colded.” He shouted as you entered the portal not hearing him.

After a few seconds after with worry in his chest he looked down at the clothing in hand and realized what he had. A piece of you that he could hold while he was away from you, and he hated being away from you, but the boys heart filled up with happiness.

The clothing smell just like you and if he threw it over a pillow it would be like cuddling with you. Boy is over the moon. And I mean like so giddy it’s embarrassingly cute.

He takes it every where with him, to the kitchen it’s in his hands, watching or playing games? It’s in his lap. He smells it constantly and gets really sad after a week when it doesn’t smell like you anymore.

However when you come back to his dimension and request for your jacket his heart breaks. Boy pouts security at the lose but he sees this as a way to get it to smell like you again and steal it after a while.

Overall if you leave anything he will take it and treasure it until you come back because now he has you for the time being.

He’s more of a clingy yandere but he still can’t help but obsessive over his darling.

“Maybe i could give you one of mine- Incase you lose yours again that is.”

Hobie Brown

Cocky little man notices it before you even want to leave and he knows you’ll forget it so he just lets you.

He loves when you leave things behind, thinks it might be a way of flirting. But when you do leave clothing he just feral about it.

Like he just can’t stop smelling it and just wants to hold it all day. He thinks of how cute you look in or how you smile and everything you do just flashes in his head.

Man is devilish to me. So he has a collection of things he steals from your bedroom when you’re out and he sneaks into your dimension. Clothes, shoes, necklaces or anything he can find.

You come back to him for it but he just holds it in his hands, above you and around the room when you try and take it way. “You mean this jacket?” Boy will have so much fun making you annoyed.

Hobie will leave his jacket on your room in hopes you’d wear it and think of him like he does you. He gets a grin when he thinks about it.

“If yah’ wanted to give me your jacket all yah’ had to do was say so.”

Gwen Stacy

You think she’s just chilling? Um no, she isn’t.

She loves you so much, her whole thing is like “I’ve lost to much.” And if she’s a yandere she can’t stop loving everything you do-Anyway.

She wears it and it can be oversized or maybe tight? She doesn’t care. She doesn’t take it off her body until it stops smelling like you or until she needs to get in her suit.

Gwen is maybe fighting with her self for many different reasons and they are:

“This is creepy.” “Oh cares? They smell so good.”

“They did this on purpose, so cute.” “No they just forgot it Gwen.”

Conflict with her own feelings all the time. But she never stops holding it close.

Gwen likes the idea of wearing your clothes to make it know she’s taken and that you’re hers. Can’t stop thinking of when you get to wear her clothes.

Yes, you guys aren’t “Dating” But your all hers.

“Don’t worry, I kept it so safe. By the way, could I borrow it again?”

Miguel O'Hara

Doesn’t care-Joking.

Miguel wouldn’t think about it at first and knows you just forget it and will come back for it later. But as time goes by, a hour, he can’t stopped looking at it for some reason.

He sneaks over like someone is watching him and picks it up. His mouth waters at the smell of you and he wouldn’t be able to let it go.

It might have rinkles on it from him carrying it so much. It’s his stress ball. You guys ever seen a kid carry around a blanket? Well that’s him.

He does feel wrong for obsessing over the piece of cloth but for different reasons then Gwen. He thinks he’s above something like this, doesn’t think it’s a big deal and he should forget it.

But when it puts it down a few seconds, it’s immediately in his hand again.

Yes, he does put it on a pillow and holds it close like he’s protecting you. He’s practically for when you get to be in his arms.

When you asked for it back he stands still for a minute. He feels sad and hates it because it’s just so stupid! Of course he gives you it back.

“I could give you one of mine…Only because that one doesn’t seem like it keeps you warm.”

42!Miles Morales

He’s a lot like Miguel in this situation a bit. And even if I see him as a big, big hard yandere he doesn’t think this is to big of a deal. Now don’t get me wrong he loves it, he just isn’t crazy as the rest of them.

Though, he does like to have it near him when he sleeps like have you close to him, or smell it whenever he can. Of course he has it in his lap when he’s gaming but the jacket never leaves his room.

Will buy the same one as you so you two can match and he can give you his. He thinks about you wearing something of his, like goes crazy just thinking of it.

You ask for it back? That’s cool, just try and get it from him. He loves to tease you to the ends of the earth and he would give it to you when you ask. But you’re just so cute when you get annoyed.

“If you wanted a jacket mami you could have asked for mine. Think mine would look cuter on you away.”

7K notes · View notes

watchmegetobsessed · 19 days

Text

BEHIND BARS

A/N: this fic is my coping mechanism with my own shit and im more than eager to read your thoughts, because it would help me knowing im not alone with these thoughts. so this one goes out to all the big girlies who struggle with loving themselves!

WORD COUNT: 9k

WARNING: sexual content

SUMMARY: You get stood up by your Tinder date, but at the same time you run into a man who works at the bar and seems to be into you. Or that's what you think when you read his message he wrote to your receipt, asking you to return to the bar the next day.

MASTERLIST | SUPPORT ME!

You harbor the delusional thoughts of your date getting caught up in something… anything, just a tad more, just so that the heartache comes a few moments later. It stings, probably more than you’d ever admit to anyone, but you can’t help it.

Sitting on the barstool in the dimly lit bar you glue your eyes onto your pornstar martini, the second you’ve had since arriving an hour and about five ‘Where are you?’ texts to Brannon before. All of them sit delivered but unread in your messages. You reach for the glass and finish the drink in two big gulps, the alcohol bringing an almost numbing sensation to your closed up throat, but it fades rather fast.

What hurts the most is that this is not a first date. He met you just three days ago on the coffee date you two arranged once you were over just exchanging messages on that awful dating app you always swear to never download again but end up back on it at one point. It’s not like he would have walked in tonight and could have a shock about your looks, that you do in fact have quite some extra weight, your thighs are thick, curving into your ass that might look good on a better day, but only if it’s covered, because every time you look at it the only thing you see is the stubborn cellulite you can never get rid of. He saw that you’re miles away from having a flat stomach, you weren’t blessed to be the kind of big girl who has a slim waist and beautiful round waist. You often stop in front of the mirror to assess how big your arms look if you wear something sleeveless, how your collarbones only show if you put your hands to your hips and force your shoulders forward to bring them out.

He saw all of these. Yet he suggested meeting again, pulling you into a ridiculous dream that he might be different and you could finally have the burning, passionate love you’ve always dreamed about.

Now it feels more like a nightmare.

“Another one?”

The bartender appears in front of you, one hand on the counter, the other one on his hip as he looks at you with a questioning look. You glance up at him, then at the empty glass and decide to just fuck it and get drunk before going home and raging your fridge for whatever comfort food you can find.

“Sure. Bring a shot as well.”

“Vodka, tequila, rum or…?”

“Vodka sounds fantastic,” you breathe out as you square your shoulders and run a hand through your hair.

The guy nods and then disappears again. While he is making your drink you decide to have a trip to the bathroom. You wave at the bartender to let him know you’ll be back and when he nods you make your way to the back.

You chose the bar for tonight, it’s a nice place, feels intimate and… hot, maybe that’s the word you used when you were here with your girlfriends a few weeks ago. It was the perfect spot for a girly night, but the vibe of the place definitely doesn’t limit it to a strictly feminine spot. There were plenty of men around even then and one mysterious man sent over a whole round of drinks, he remained unknown but he was probably enamored by one of your friends.

You were convinced Brannon would like this place and you could see the two of you curled up in a booth, finally overstepping the awkwardness of being around someone you met online.

Once you’ve done your business you stop in front of the massive mirror next to the sink and have a moment to look at yourself in the overhead lights that bring out everything about your body that you usually fight hard not to think about. You hate it how one inconvenience can make you feel so… ashamed. Hopeless. Worthless.

Truth is, you’re tired. You’ve had enough of these experiences, though it’s only your second time getting stood up, but it goes under the same cases of going completely unnoticed by men in a social setting, ending up instantly in the friendzone no matter what you do, getting the talk of ‘but I see you as a great friend, I hope we can stay friends’ whenever you dare to come clean about your feelings for someone. It sucks the life out of you and you’re not sure if you have any more left to keep trying. Because the chance of ending up alone anyway has been looming over your head for way too long to ignore it and if it ends up being your reality, you’d rather not waste any more time and energy on trying.

When the tears start stinging your eyes you turn on your heels and head out, not wanting to have a full blown breakdown in the middle of a bar. Stepping out to the hallway you’re just about to march back to your previous spot to chug down your drinks shamelessly, but you weren’t expecting anyone to be right outside the door, so you collide into someone just as your heels hit the carpeted floor outside the restroom.

It’s not at all the gracious kind of collision, where the man scoops you into his arms and holds you against his chest to stop you from falling. Out of reflex, your hands do find the guy’s chest, but you push yourself away from him fast and panicked, your back hitting the door that just closed behind you and you’d bet a good amount that your expression reeks of shock and the sadness from previously, which is not a gracious combination.

“I-I’m sorry,” you exhale sharply as your eyes take in the man in front of you.

Tall, well-built in a black, fitted suit with a black silky shirt underneath the jacket, the first few buttons are left undone, teasing a glimpse of tattoos and a thin necklace with pendants hidden from your vision. His brown hair is trimmed, but not enough to conceal how the strands curl and swirl. Pink lips curl into a smile and you can’t decide the color of his eyes because it’s too dark here, but they appear to be light, even despite how big his pupils are as he is staring back at you. He is holding up his hands in front of him, as if he is readying himself to catch you if you decide to fall anyway.

“In a hurry?” he asks and his velvety british accent caresses your ears. You blink at him for a couple of moments dumbly before finding your voice to reply.

“No,” is all you say, to which his smile just widens and you catch his eyes dip down, running along your body before they return to your gaze.

“Be careful then, Angel.”

“Sorry,” you breathe out, finding your balance again as you’re unable to look away from him.

He is the kind of man that catches every female’s attention upon walking into a room, who could easily just cherry pick who he wants, because women line up in front of him just to earn a glance from him. He looks elegant and lively at the same time, but you instantly feel a sense of mystery and darkness linger around them even despite his warm smile. He is nothing like the men you ever dealt with and he is… way out of your league.

Lifting your chin you spare him with one last look before walking away, fighting the urge to look back if he is still there or maybe you just imagined him.

Your drinks are already waiting for you by your seat and you down the shot before you could climb back to your seat. Given the fact that you came with an empty stomach, the alcohol has started working its wonders on you. You feel a low buzz in your chest, a slight numbness in your head and you know the martini in front of you will be your last drink if you want to make it back to your place.

Your thoughts are still circling around the man in the hallway when you spot him again from the corner of your eyes. Down at the end of the bar, he is talking to the bartender who’s been serving you. His jacket is gone, so you see the silky shirt hanging elegantly from his frame, the fabric shimmering in the light that comes from behind the bar, illuminating the wall of expensive bottles showcased. The sleeves are rolled up, revealing that his left arm is heavily tattooed, but the other one has something as well, but half of it is hidden underneath the shirt.

He is helping the bartender unload some bottles into the fridge that’s underneath the counter as the talk. When they are down to the last one he stands up and runs a ring-clad hand through his hair and his eyes move up and catch your gaze before you could look away and pretend like you weren’t ogling him. Your cheeks burn up right away as you snap your eyes back at your drink in front of you. With silent prayers that he won’t come closer, you busy yourself with the only thing you can do: drinking. But just as you lift the glass to your lips you see a black form walk up to where you’re sitting and you can’t stop yourself from looking up at him.

“Can I get you anything else?” he asks with a charming smile, his hands planted onto the counter in front of you, giving you the chance to see the veins running underneath his smooth skin and for a split second you can’t help but imagine what it might feel like to be held by those hands.

“Um, no, I’m good. Thank you.”

“Good,” he repeats, but it drips with something else, something more, something… heavy. “Waiting for someone?”

His question came out of the blue, you weren’t expecting him to strike up a conversation and start it with that. Your muscles tense and suddenly, after being so drawn to keep looking at the man in front of you, it becomes your priority to avoid his gaze at all cost.

“No,” you say shortly and take a sip, no, a gulp from your drink.

What you don’t see is how his face darkens. The smile fades and his eyebrows draw together as he lets his hands fall from the counter and move to cross over his chest.

You expect him to move away from the rather tensed and awkward scene, but he remains standing in the same spot until you notice him turn around, but just to grab two shot glasses, he fills them up with something that could easily be vodka again, but you wouldn’t know because you don’t see the glass he pours from. Then he turns around and places the shots onto the counter, pushing one a little closer to you. When you look up, you see his head a bit tilted, waiting with a questioning look and an unknown sparkle in his eyes that are green, now you’re sure.

“Oh, I shouldn’t… Um…”

“Just this one. As an apology on behalf of the piece of shit who is too blind and idiotic to see what he missed out on.”

Your breath is caught in your throat as you stare back at him. For a second, you let yourself believe that there’s more behind his words, that there’s attraction, lust and desire. For you.

But then your usual mechanism kicks in and your mind is quick to turn it around and convince you it’s not at all like that. He just feels sorry for you, it’s only pity, because a man like him would never be interested in a woman like you.

“Sure,” you whisper with a nod and take the shot. He takes his and holds up, waits for you to do the same.

Then he gives you a nod with a charming, crooked smile and your eyes remain locked on each other as you both take the shots. It’s vodka and it burns, but you don’t even flinch as you put the glass back onto the counter and watch him snatch it away. He is just about to say something when the bartender calls out for him from the end of the bar, but because you weren’t listening, you miss what his name is. He looks back at you once more and then walks away.

You don’t see him for the rest of the time you spend there. Finishing the drink you ask to close your tab and then you’re getting ready to leave when the bartender slips the receipt over to you. At first you don’t even pay any attention to it, but then you notice something is different about it. You grab it from the counter and then read the words scribbled onto it with a black marker.

Please come back tomorrow.

You feel like an idiot all day. Trying to keep yourself busy by cleaning and cooking, no matter what you do you always find yourself looking at that damn receipt, reading the words over and over again. Since you left the bar yesterday until this moment, you’ve thought of every possible scenario why he would ask you to return. Realistic ones, ridiculous versions, you thought of them all, but somehow you always ended up settling on the same one, even despite the fact your mind has been fighting hard not to let you believe he could want anything from you.

It grinds your nerves all day until you decide to act on it. You put on a pair of jeans and a simple black shirt with your trusty sneakers, nothing extra, very far from looking fancy and then head back to the bar before you could talk yourself out of it.

It’s the afternoon on a Sunday, it’s no surprise the place is deserted when you walk in, only a handful of people are lingering around here and there in contrast to the buzz it had yesterday. You try your best to settle the uneasy feeling in your gut as you walk up to the bar. There’s a woman standing behind this time who you didn’t see last night. She’s drying glasses with a cloth since there’s not much to do without anyone sitting on the stools.

“Hi, what can I get you?” she asks with a bright smile as you walk up to her.

“Um, I was wondering if the guy who worked last night was working today? Brown hair, tattoos… I don’t… know his name.”

It’s an understatement to say you feel awkward asking around about the guy even though he practically asked you to come back. At least he could have given you his name to avoid appearing like a stalker.

The woman furrows her eyebrows as she purses her lips, tilting her head.

“I swear I’m not here to make a scene or anything,” you add with a nervous laugh.

“Ah, I was just thinking. Because I know for a fact that Nico was working last night, but he for sure has no tattoos.”

You swear you saw the tattoos on his chest and arms, you did not just imagine those, but now you’re doubting yourself.

“He, uhh, he wore, like, a black suit and a black, silky shirt… Rings…” This is as far as you can go describing him without adding details you’d rather keep to yourself. Like how his hands looked delicate but rough at the same time, the way his lips curled when he smiled could push all the air out of your lungs and his smooth, velvety voice was like you were wrapped into a warm, soft blanket whenever he talked.

Luckily, you see her face light up at the last few details you just said.

“Oh! You must be…” She doesn’t finish it, just lets her smile stretch wide as she squares her shoulder. “Let me grab him for you,” she then winks and before you could get another word out, she disappears.

Laying your hands flat on the bar top you start drumming nervously as you wait. A thought flashes through your mind that it was a mistake coming here, trying to convince you to just leave before it’s too late, but you fight it and shove it to the back of your head, sinking your teeth into your bottom lip as you pull your hands back and start rubbing your palms against your thighs.

A few seconds later the woman appears from the back with the same wide smile and just when you start to think the man is not here, he follows her out, turning your sanity upside down with just a simple look.

He is wearing a black t-shirt this time, short sleeved, putting his previously mentioned tattoos on perfect display. The shirt is tucked into a pair of gray dress pants that hug his waist so well, you’re drawn to stare at his body for a few moments as he moves closer behind the bar.

The bartender woman passes you while the man stops in front of you, a cheeky, but genuine smile tugging on his lips as he leans onto the counter just like how he did yesterday, only this time you see his muscles flex from the movement thanks to the short sleeves.

“What a pleasure to welcome you back.”

Your knees threaten to give up for a second from hearing his voice again, as if it’s proof that you didn’t just make him up last night, he is not just a mirage.

Reaching into your purse you pull the receipt out and slide it over to him.

“You invited me back.”

“I did,” he nods, not even glancing down at the piece of paper, like he doesn’t need to be reminded of what he did. “But I didn’t know you’d actually return.”

Unsure what to say, you allow yourself to assess him, take in his perfectly carved features, the unruly curls, the rings adorning his inviting hands. If you were on your own, just looking at a picture of him, you’d definitely tell yourself it’s too good to be true that a man like him would ever pay you any attention. But having him standing in front of you, feel his burning gaze on you, this magnetic pull that vibrates from him, you’re battling yourself harder than ever.

“I was curious,” you admit at last.

“Then I’m happy to satisfy your curiosity. Why don’t we sit down?” he asks, gesturing towards one of the booths by the wall.

“Won’t you get into trouble?” you ask, but he just gives you a toothy smile as he shakes his head.

“Don’t worry about that, Angel. Go ahead and sit, I’ll make us a drink.”

Once you’re turned away and walking towards a booth you let out a long, shaky breath.

“Get a grip,” you tell yourself as you slide into the booth and try to get comfortable. It’s frustrating a man could have an effect this powerful on you after barely even talking to him. What kind of black magic is he practicing?

A few minutes later you see him walking over to you with two drinks in his hands. One is obviously a pornstar martini for you, the other one you don’t know. It’s in a simple, short glass, one big cube of ice, the drink itself is a nice amber color, you spot a curl of orange peel and some fresh rosemary in it.

He slips into the booth with ease and moves closer to you than you expected as he places the drinks to the table.

“Might be best if we started with our names,” he suggests. “I’m Harry.”

His name rolls off his tongue so ravishingly, you have to stop yourself from repeating after him. He holds out a hand for you that you take. Your skin starts tingling the moment it meets with his warm touch.

“Y/N.”

“Such a pleasure to meet you, Y/N,” he nods, giving your hand a squeeze before letting it go.

While you feel a bit awkward, trying to find a way to sit beside him, it appears he is quick to find his place, crossing one leg over the other, his arm closer to you is stretched over the back of the booth, his hand falling somewhere behind you, but it’s not touching you. His other hand is gently playing with his drink, twirling it between his fingers.

“I know it’s probably not the best thing to start with, but I just have to ask. Last night, were you stood up?”

All your blood rushes to your head and your palms start sweating as you turn your head away embarrassed. You’ve been so caught up in him that you kind of forgot about what Brannon did.

“Yes,” you whisper, hands dropping into your lap as you nervously fidget with your fingers.

The hand that’s been behind you moves to the side of your face, his knuckles gently brushing across your cheek, just enough to make you turn your head and look at him.

“Don’t even think for a moment his behavior lessens your worth.”

“I’m not so sure if there’s any left of that to lessen.”

The words leave your mouth before you could even think them through, surprising you with their bluntness. You’re not one to share such personal thoughts with a stranger, not even your closest friends.

Harry stares at you with an unreadable expression and you half expect him to just let it slip and not acknowledge what you said. But he sticks to that in a way you never experienced.

“I would give an arm to have the chance to show how much I see just after spending only minutes with you.”

You’re speechless and from the hidden smile you notice in the corners of his mouth you assume he finds it entertaining, witnessing the effect he has on you. He grabs his drink from the table and you watch him lazily take a sip before placing it back and leaning forward, getting closer to you, but still not quite crossing an invisible line between the two of you.

“Y/N, I know this is very straight-forward and I’m aware that we are very much just strangers at this point, but I’m more than eager to change that.”

“Why?” you hear yourself asking in an airy, weak voice. “Because you’re sorry for me?”

Now it’s his turn to be taken aback. The way he frowns almost makes you want to apologize even for asking.

“Sorry is the last thing I’m feeling right now. And it wasn’t what I felt when you bumped into me last night or when I wrote that message to your receipt. Or… when I sent over that round of drinks to you and your friends not long ago.”

“You what?”

“You were here, maybe a few weeks ago, with your friends, right?”

“I-I was, but…”

“The round of drinks. I sent it.”

“Why?” you ask again and notice the amusement in his look.

“The same reason I wanted you to return today. Because take my breath away and I never give up on the chance to get to know whoever has that effect on me.”

You stare back at him blankly, a million thoughts racing in your head while also not able to put together a coherent one. It is everything you ever wished to experience, but it also feels incredibly odd and… wrong.

“What kind of twisted game is it you’re playing?”

Harry furrows his eyebrows slightly.

“None. Why are you questioning my intentions so passionately?”

“Because it’s ridiculous,” you say with a bitter laugh, shaking your head as you grab your drink and take two gulps, hoping the alcohol might help you untangle the mess in your head.

“How is my interest in you ridiculous?”

“Because it is. You cannot sell me that you spotted me among my friends last time, that I was the one who caught your attention and that when you saw me last night again you just had to take your chance to lure me here again so you could talk to me. It’s absolutely ridiculous.”

He stays silent and you don’t look at him for a bit, trying to calm your rocketing pulse. But his silence starts to drive you mad again, so you turn to face him and see that unreadable expression on his face again.

“You’re invalidating my attraction just because you haven’t received it before.”

It’s like he is reading you like you’re an open book, he looks at you and you can feel him raiding through your mind and you can do nothing against it.

“It’s actually sad but also exciting to be the first one to give it to you.”

“But why me?” you keep pushing.

“Why do you like pornstar martini?” he asks with a cheeky smile and you decide to ignore how erotic that sounded from him.

“What?”

“You choose it because you like it, yeah? Why?”

“Because… I don’t know, it tastes… good,” you answer, complete confusion taking over you.

“See, that is why you. I don’t know it just yet, but I just know that…” He doesn’t finish, but you can hear the rest.

I just know you taste good.

The all too familiar pulse between your legs is making you cross your legs underneath the table, but Harry catches the movement and his grin grows wide, but he doesn’t comment on it, just takes a sip of his drink.

“We took it very intensely quite suddenly. Let’s just talk and we can return to this matter a bit later,” he suggests then softly, losing that tiny cockiness from his voice for now. “What is there to know about you, Y/N?”

You need a bit of time to recover and actually start telling him about yourself. He asks you about your job, your family, your hobbies, what you like and what you hate, all while giving you his full, undivided attention. Even though he has made it clear he is interested in you, somehow you end up taking the situation with even more caution than usually, but slowly and almost unnoticed, it eases from your gut.

“Now it’s your turn,” you say, once you’ve had enough of talking about yourself. Just as he is about to start talking, the bartender shows up at the table and you’re convinced she’ll ask him to go back to work.

“Boss, the supplier was on the phone, they need confirmation until tomorrow morning.”

Boss?

“Thanks Jenny,” Harry smiles up at her warmly. “I’ll take care of it.” The bartender, Jenny as you learned, nods and then disappears. When Harry looks back at you, it’s apparent he was expecting the questioning look from you.

“Boss? Did I hear that right?”

“Absolutely did,” he chuckles.

“So you’re…”

“I won this place. Along with another one downtown and two more over on the West coast.”

You click your tongue as you turn away to have a look around, though you’ve examined the place enough before. It’s not the kind that screams ‘this is my first business, it’s doing fairly well’, but rather one that screams wealth and business. The bar itself is definitely high end, but it’s also connected to the hotel above, so it drives in some great traffic from there as well and of course, it’s a five star hotel, so the guests are usually not the kind who shies away from paying for a nice drink. Adding just the thought of three more places similar to this to the picture is just plainly mind-blowing to you.

And yet, just minutes ago you were convinced he’s a bartender here.

“You knew I thought you were staff when I asked if you’d get into trouble.” Harry nods. “Why didn’t you say something?”

“Because that would have immensely changed the dynamic.”

“No, I–”

“Yes,” he fights back with a meaningful look. “You had a hard time believing I could be interested in you when you thought I was a bartender here. Had you known I owned this place you would have never let go of the power imbalance that comes with the judgment of my position in my business.”

You want to protest, but you can’t. Because you know it well that he is actually right.

To ease the sudden change in the mood, Harry starts talking about himself and the business as he can tell you’re curious how he ended up as the boss. He tells you how it all started in college, he and a few of his friends came up with the idea of opening a bar and once they graduated he and the one remaining friend who was still into the idea decided to act on it. Niall, the friend, earned a great amount of money from his trust fund after graduation, which they used to the last cent to open the place ten years ago. Feeling guilty that he couldn’t bring as much money into the business in the beginning, Harry tried to make up for it by working twice as hard. As time passed and they opened the second place three years later, Niall started to wander to different fields and only remained a silent partner in the business, letting Harry take over fully. The expansion on the West coast happened just two years ago, but they are already thinking about the next location.

“Are you still friends?” you ask him.

“With Niall? Yes, absolutely. He has his own company in IT security that he actually started from the money of this business. It’s more his world than this now, but we try to meet at least every month when we are in the same city. And I still need his signature on some stuff,” he adds with a chuckle.

“That’s great it didn’t ruin your friendship. Working together can be risky.”

“I know. We had our ups and downs for sure, but nothing we couldn’t talk through.”

It was amazing to see him talk about it so profound and passionately. It makes him so… humane.

His phone buzzes in his pocket and when he pulls it out, he sighs quietly. He ignores the call, but when he looks at you again you know he has to go.

“Y/N, we need to revisit what we talked about earlier, because I have to go soon.”

Your cheeks heat up instantly as you roll your lips into your mouth.

“What about it?”

“Most importantly we need to talk about when we can meet again.”

You look at him from the corner of your eyes and can’t hold back a smile when you see his cheeky grin as he sits turned towards you, his upper body angled to face you completely.

“The most convenient would be tomorrow,” he adds shamelessly.

“So soon?”

“I wanted to say I would love to see you in about three hours when we close, but I didn’t want to come off as too eager.”

That makes you laugh and Harry gifts you with a proud, crooked smile.

“Are you sick of this place?”

“Why?”

“Because you could come here tomorrow and I could teach you how to make your drink,” he says, nodding towards your now empty glass. You actually love the idea of that, doing something new in a not so new setting.

“I can be here by seven.”

“I’ll be waiting for you behind the bar.”

You have never been this eager to put down work at five finally. It doesn’t matter that you still have a few unanswered emails in your inbox, you decide they can wait until tomorrow.

You haven’t stopped thinking about Harry since you left the bar yesterday. You can’t even remember the last time you were like this, probably in high school when you had a crush in junior year. It’s ridiculous, honestly, but it’s also quite exciting.

You walk into the bar for the third time in the past three days. You would have guessed that a Monday evening would be just as eventful as Sunday, but apparently a lot of people like to go out for drinks on the first day of the week. It’s not like on Saturday, but about half of the tables are taken. Crossing the place you’re heading straight to the bar, searching for one particular tall figure, but you don’t see him.

Nico, the bartender from Saturday, is on shift again, though as you reach the bar he doesn’t seem to recognize you.

“Hi, what can I get you?”

You’re just about to ask him to tell Harry that you arrived when the familiar, velvety voice speaks up right behind you.

“I have the lady covered, thanks Nico.”

Turning around you’re met with Harry’s warm but cheeky smile as he stands just a couple of feet away from you. Today he is wearing a pair of black dress pants with a black long sleeve, but the sleeves are rolled up above his elbows. There’s a light stubble darkening his jawline, he surely skipped shaving this morning, but you’re not mad about it, it adds a bit of roughness to him.

“Welcome back, Y/N,” he nods at you.

“Hi,” is all you manage to push out of yourself. He is very much aware of your nervousness, but it just widens his smile.

“Ready to master the pornstar martini?” he asks as he steps closer and places a hand to the small of your back to usher you behind the bar.

“Absolutely.”

The two of you settle at the end of the bar so you’re not disturbing the actual service with your little scene. Harry hands you a black apron and he puts one on himself as well after helping you tie yours behind your back. Then the learning starts.

Harry is actually a great bartender himself. As he gathers everything you need for the drink, he tells you how he learned to bartend after opening the place. They had a few times when they fell short on staff and he needed to serve, so he figured it’s best if he just learns it fully rather than just clumsily mixing up the drinks whenever help is needed.

“What’s your favorite to make?” you ask as you’re cutting the passion fruit in two on a cutting board and Harry examines your every move like a good mentor.

“I think it’s Rum Martinez.”

“What’s that like?”

“It’s a Japanese cocktail, pretty smoky and kind of complicated to make. I’ve had it twice, it was always served with a cigar. I only made it once though, but it was fun.”

Harry truly meant it when he said you’d learn how to make your drink. He doesn’t touch anything in the mixing process, only instructs you, clear and patiently as you add the right amounts into the shaker. When you put the top of the shaker on however, he moves behind you and as his arms come round you to grab the shaker along with you, for a few seconds you definitely forget to breathe.

This close you can smell his cologne, the warmth of his body is melting you against him and when you lean back just the slightest bit he pushes forward to tighten the physical connection between the two of you.

“Alright. Now, this is how you shake it properly,” he murmurs, his face right next to yours as his hands cover yours on the shaker.

You let him take the lead as he starts shaking, his warm palms holding your hand against the cool shaker, moving it up and down, left and right in a controlled, rhythmic way. He is giving it quite the force, you feel the ice inside tumble harshly as you keep shaking.

“Okay, now take the cap off.”

He lets go of the shaker, but remains standing behind you as he instructs you. You do as he said and he reaches past you to bring the glass closer for you.

“Carefully, but with confidence” he murmurs, one hand moving to cover yours when you start pouring, but too slowly, so he helps you to tilt the right amount. The beautiful yellow liqueur fills up the glass with a perfect layer of foam on top.

“And finally, the passion fruit.”

He points at the fruit on the cutting board and you take one half, gently dropping it into the middle and watch as it stays afloat with pride.

“There. You just made your first pornstar martini.”

Harry steps away from behind you and you almost protest, eager to feel his warmth behind you as he comes into your view again, watching you bring the drink to your lips. You take a sip and once you taste it, you can’t hold your smile back.

“It’s amazing.”

“All yours,” he dips his head a bit with a bright smile and you can’t look away from his sparkling eyes.

The foam of the drink sticks to your upper lip so when you put the glass down you run your tongue over, licking it off and you catch him watching your mouth with obvious hunger, as if he is ready to have a taste from the cocktail, but only from your lips.

The moment burns and you feel it deep in your chest. Almost unnoticed, you both inch closer and you feel an irresistible pull towards him. Your heart is drumming in your throat and the muscles in your torso tense even at just the thought of kissing him.

But right when you are about to cross the line Nico’s curse pops your bubble and Harry’s head whips around in alert.

“Shit!” you see Nico jump back from the counter, one hand wrapped around the other, a cutting board with lemons and a knife left behind.

“What happened?” Harry asks, grabbing a rag as he steps closer to assess the situation.

“I wasn’t paying attention and cut my finger,” Nico hisses and you step closer just in time to see him showing the cut. It doesn’t look bad, but it’s bleeding quite heavily.

“Go and clean it out. I’ll cover the bar.”

Nico mumbles a quick thanks as he rushes back before he could bleed on anything behind the bar. Just as he exits, two women walk up to Harry, who switches into bartender mode pretty fast. He gives you a quick ‘I’m sorry’ glance as he takes their order and starts mixing up their drinks. You just give him a reassuring smile and focus on your drink, patiently waiting.

At first you don’t even pay attention to the conversation the two women strike up with him. But as Harry starts serving a man who walked up to the bar after them you notice how they stayed there and it makes you wonder so you turn your attention to their sugar coated voices.

“Oh, then we feel honored to be served by the big boss,” the blonde one chuckles, leaning forward just enough so that his shirt tugs down, teasing the view of her cleavage.

“Just… helping in,” Harry gives a tight-lipped smile, barely even glancing at her as he makes the cocktail.

“See, I told you it'll be worth coming here on a Monday,” the other one giggles as she gently sways to the soft music that’s playing through the speakers.

It’s a sight that’s an easy trigger for you. They did nothing wrong other than flirting with a man they find attractive. And you know Harry barely even acknowledged their efforts, but still, it was enough to let that evil little voice out of its cage in the back of your mind.

They are gorgeous and you’re nothing like them. They are thin and looking around you already see a dozen men looking at them. You can never be like them.

Deep down you know these thoughts are worthless, but once they take over it’s hard to fight them, to see yourself in a better light. Not when you’ve struggled with this for so long and spent long years to convince yourself it’s all that matters.

There’s nothing left of the free spirit you were just minutes ago. When this happens you simply close off and want to disappear as fast as possible. For a moment you think of just leaving while Harry is not paying attention, but you’d hate to walk out on him like that so you stay there, trying to take up as little space as physically possible as you finish your drink.

Nico soon comes back, his left ring finger bandaged up, ready to get back to work, which means Harry is free from bar duty again. He doesn’t hesitate to walk away from the two women and return to you, but you’ve let your spiraling thoughts win by now.

He notices something is wrong the moment he sees you avoid looking into his eyes.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, dipping his head to try to get you to look at him.

“Nothing,” you shake your head, but it’s a weak attempt to mask just how uncomfortable you’re feeling.

“Y/N, I know that’s not true. What happened?”

“Nothing happened,” you push, then take a deep breath to help you swallow the bitterness in your mouth.

There’s a few seconds of pause when you’re convinced he’ll say to end the date and then you already see yourself never coming here to avoid ever running into him. The voice in the back of your mind is already working hard to convince you it’s for the best, that it would have never worked, you’re way too different and sooner or later he would see you the way you see yourself.

But it never happens. Instead, he silently packs away everything you used for the cocktail and when he’s done, he gently takes your hand and starts to pull you towards the door that leads out to the hotel’s lobby. Confused, but curious, you follow him and don’t say a word until the two of you stop at the elevators.

“Harry, where are we going?”

“Up. To my suite.”

“You have a suite here?”

“I do. Comes with the perks of owning the bar that’s part of the hotel.”

His hand is still holding yours, warm and gentle, but still confident, especially when he tightens his hold as the elevator arrives and he pulls you inside, pushing the button of the 18th floor. He doesn’t let go of you as the elevator starts moving, you just stand there next to each other without a word until it arrives and the doors slide open.

Harry once again pulls you with him, striding down the carpeted hallway to the door with the number 1804 next to it. He fishes out a card from his pocket and taps it against the lock that clicks silently, letting him open the door and that’s when his hand falls from yours, letting you walk in first as he holds the door open for you.

You haven’t been to a hotel this elegant, not as a guest at least. You’ve attended a few conferences but you could only see the lobby and the conference rooms during those, not the rooms or in this case, the suites.

You walk into a spacious living room with a minibar, dark purple couches facing the TV mounted onto the wall, the floor-to-ceiling windows giving an impeccable view of the city lights. There’s a door on the left and the right, one is probably leading to the bedroom, the other one must be the bathroom and though the doors are closed, you can imagine how good they must be designed.

The suite is definitely not untouched, you see signs of Harry here and there, the envelopes on the coffee table, the single used mug next to them, some sort of hoodie thrown over the back of one of the armchairs and a Macbook lying on the desk next to the TV.

“It’s permanently reserved for me. I spend so much time at the bar, it’s easier if sometimes I don’t have to drive all the way home and can just stay here,” he explains as you walk further inside, stopping by the window to have a look at the view.

Slowly, you turn around and look at him with your arms crossed over your chest.

“Why are we here?”

He is standing a few feet away, his hands hidden in his pockets, but his stance feels welcoming and open even despite your closed off behavior.

“To be alone. I don’t want the circumstances to bother you. I know things can get overwhelming sometimes.”

You remain still, not sure what to say or do. It really has been overwhelming, but only because sometimes your own mind turns against you and there’s nothing you can do about it.

Harry pulls his hands out of his pockets and cautiously takes a few steps closer to you, but still leaves a bit of space between the two of you.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asks so softly, it almost makes you want to cry, because he doesn’t feel real, nothing does when it’s about him. You’re so set on how unmatching you feel around him that it’s almost impossible to think otherwise now.

“I don’t see it,” you reply in a whisper.

“See what?”

“I don’t see what you see in me. I only see my version of myself and it’s… not good.”

The tears are stinging your eyes. You have probably never said these words out loud, but somehow, you feel safe enough with Harry to bring this side of you out, though the fear that he might get fed up with it is still strong in the pit of your stomach.

You have no idea what kind of reaction you were expecting from him, to be honest you couldn’t imagine a version where he stands his ground and doesn’t agree with all the awful things you harbor about yourself.

But then he steps closer, his hands gently cupping your face in them as he angles your head so you’re looking up at him, holding you like that, forcing you to keep your eyes on him.

“I want to show you. How I see you.”

His hands slide down to your neck, his thumbs are underneath your chin to keep you in place, his gaze dipping down to your lips a couple of times before settling on your eyes, waiting, silently asking for permission and though you don’t say a single word he understands you.

His first kiss is brief, but confident. His lips press against yours and they open slowly, just enough so that his tongue can tease you before he pulls back, though he doesn’t move far, his nose is still brushing against yours. Opening your eyes you find him looking at you, his otherwise light and bright eyes are now several shades darker, lust dripping from the curled up ends of his lashes as he waits for you to make up your mind whether you want to go further or not. Somehow, his black magic must have worked enough on you to mute that evil voice in the back of your head, the absence of it giving you the chance to give yourself into the moment.

You push up against him this time eagerly, open mouth meeting his and he’s quick to react with just as much passion.

One of his hands moves down to your waist and when his fingers dig into the soft flesh you can’t hold back a moan that’s immediately swallowed by him. You fist his shirt, desperately trying to pull closer even though he is entirely pressed up against you.

Blindly he starts moving, pulling you with him, your kiss never breaking as you move around the couch. Then his lips leave yours and you’re forced to open your eyes just as he sits down on the couch, his hands grabbing the back of your thighs as he pulls you between his knees and he kisses your stomach through the fabric of your shirt. Out of reflex you try to pull away or avert him somewhere else, but his hands squeeze your thighs as his eyes snap up to meet your gaze.

“How I see you, remember? Let me show you,” he reminds you and though every inch of you is screaming to pull away, you stay.

Harry pushes your shirt up and unbuttons your pants before his hands grab you by the waist. He twists you around and pulls you down on him, so you end up lying half on top of him with your back pressed against his chest.

“Harry,” you gasp when his right hand starts to slip into your pants and then under your underwear, but his other hand falls to your heaving chest as if he could calm your jumping pulse with just one touch.

“Tell me if you want me to stop, I don’t want to push anything on you.” His lips are by your ear that brushes against them when you nod and just let him do whatever he wants.

When two of his fingers slip between your wet folds, your lips part with a sigh, your head rolling back to his shoulder just from his touch. He is gentle but determined, starts off by just moving those two fingers up and down, gently applying some pressure at the perfect spots before keep moving. Then they settle on your clit and start drawing circles in a slow pace, playing with the pressure once again, setting your nerves on fire.

You keep moaning and gasping as you still lie on top of him, his other hand moves underneath your shirt, but it doesn’t go further up just yet, only remains flat on your skin. You can’t stop your body from falling into a rhythm, hips buckling, spine arching with certain movements, especially when he starts to gradually increase his pace.

When a tiny shock rides through your body with a rougher movement one of your hands grabs onto his thigh by your side, fingers digging into his muscles, earning a deep grunt from him that rumbles right underneath you.

Your other hand snaps to his wrist as you completely lose control over yourself and push his hand a bit further, showing him where and how you need him the most and he is quick to pick up on the clues and add to the sensation.

“Y/N, Angel, let go for me,” he whispers into your ear and while his hand between your legs doesn’t stop for a moment, the other one finally inches up and cups your breast, kneading it sensually.

“Harry, I–Ah!” You’ve lost your ability to voice a coherent thought. You have none, the feelings Harry is making you feel have taken over you entirely.

“I know, I know,” he murmurs and when you turn your head he doesn’t hesitate to capture your lips in a deep kiss and while you’re eager to return it, you lose control over your movements when you feel your orgasm tipping you over the edge. It stretches and teases and then it washes over you like a tidal wave.

Gasping for air, your back arches and your nails dig into his wrist and thigh, you hear him say something but his words are tuned out, you hear or see nothing, only feel.

But you feel everything.

You have no idea how long it takes for you to calm down and come back to real life. When it happens you realize Harry’s hand has moved away from between your legs and both of them are placed on your stomach, his fingers gently brushing against your skin in a slow rhythm.

When you find your strength you wiggle around until you’re lying on your stomach, facing him. Even though you were the only one who benefited from the scene you just experienced, you see a deep satisfaction etched across his face as his lips break out into a smile.

“Hi.”

“Hi,” you chuckle and pushing yourself up you stretch your neck until your lips meet his. This kiss is different, it’s gentle and slow, but just as meaningful as the ones before.

“So,” he starts as he reaches up, running his fingers down the side of your face. “Did you see what I see?”

“I… felt it,” you say, part of you afraid of his reaction. But as you watch him, all you see is that same sweet, charming smile you’ve seen from him so many times before.

“That’s a start.”

“Yeah.”

“And I’m more than happy to work on it until you really see it.”

Staring at him, you search for something. Anything that gives away the slightest sign that gives away that he is not being genuine, but you find none and it feels heavier than if you did. Completely touched by his words the tears start dwelling in your eyes.

“Where have you been?” you ask in just a whisper.

“Well…” he breathes out, locking you in his arms. “Behind bars the past ten years,” he says and there’s a heartbeat of silence as you both realize what he just said and the duality of it.

You both burst out in laughter at the same time.

“Not like that!” he shakes his head.

“I guess there are a lot I don’t know about you, that’s fair.”

“And do you want to know more?” He challenges you. Your laughter fades into just a soft smile.

“I do. Do you want to know more about me?”

“Everything. I want to know everything.”

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!

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yanderambling · 1 year

Text

omg i’m thrilled that y’all like him so much!!! and these ideas were soso tasty ugh your minds~ i had a lot of fun with this, maybe too much if you look at the wc lol, so i hope y’all enjoy <3 ALSO continuity note: since Adrian is so popular, i won't carry major events through different stories unless requested, that way everyone can have their own version of his story! but i'll be keeping general facts about Adrian the same unless otherwise specified, like his parents being rich because i find it funny~ thank you and goodnight <3 (and yes i switched this gif with the last part shhhh it’s okay)

pairing: Masochist Puppyboy!Yandere(m) x Bully!Reader(gn)

words: ~ 4.6k

you can read the previous part here!

CW: 18+, NSFW, yandere behavior, stalking, bullying, physical/verbal abuse, BDSM themes, poor BDSM etiquette but neither party minds

Adrian nearly choked when he heard his name read next to yours for the school project.

It took you a second to recognize his; you mostly just call him mutt. Once you realized, you loudly groaned at the prospect of spending the week with that pest.

Adrian couldn’t hear it over his racing heart.

As soon as class lets out, he's right at your side, yammering on about project materials and meeting arrangements and times and "we should really meet at one of our houses so we don't have to worry about distractions, I'm fine with coming to yours! It's closer to school anyway, right? It'll be more private- I just think it makes sense-"

You finally shut him up by making the executive decision that you’ll work at his house (you don’t need him shedding on your furniture, or potentially getting any personal ammunition against you; he is way too interested in being inside your home, and how does he know it’s closer to school?).

Adrian was crestfallen that he wouldn’t get to go in your house (and smell the pure you imbued in your furniture, and pretend he’s really your dog while you sit together- maybe in your bedroom!-, and snoop through your underwear drawer when you go to the bathroom, and snoop through your bathroom when he goes in right after you...), but he was still over the moon at the idea of having you in his space.

(He’ll just visit your window later tonight like usual, anyway- he'll still get high off that closeness alone. Win/win!)

Adrian doesn't think about anything else for the rest of the day, zoning through his classes and plastered to your side whenever he gets the chance, just alight with energy and anticipation and not shutting up about it- he's lucky there's too many witnesses for you to knock him quiet (oh, but he would feel so much luckier if you did).

You would totally bail on this project if you weren’t already failing this class, which is mostly on account of you bailing. You’re wondering if all those cut classes were worth having to work with this, but you’re not feeling hopeful.

The day seems to drag on forever for both of you, for vastly different reasons. By the time school lets out, Adrian is buzzing out of his skin and you're seconds away from ripping it off him.

As you two start the trek to his place, Adrian can't get over how surreal it feels to walk beside you. It's like you two are a couple, and you're walking him home for an after school study date!

He gets lost in the daydream easily, giving you a brief reprieve from his energy, and allowing you to absently notice his rapidly wagging tail almost propelling him down the sidewalk. You can't help but smirk a little at the image that conjures in your mind.

He's truly ridiculous, you can't really believe him sometimes. Doesn't that thing ever get tired? What does he think is gonna happen that's got him so damn excited? That he's gonna get in good with you somehow (hopefully) and you'll leave him alone? (never in his wildest dreams.)

Yeah, fat chance.

When Adrian stops at his house, you think he's joking. But then he walks right up the driveway of this random McMansion, motioning you along eagerly, and enters a security code before holding the door open for you with a clearly anticipatory smile.

...The fuck.

You did not count on Adrian’s family being loaded. He certainly doesn't dress or groom like it.

You consider berating him for not mentioning it, but decide against it for the risk of seeming stupid- to Adrian of all people. You do make a mental note for your future errand requests, though.

Adrian’s parents aren’t home, he tells you his mom is always traveling and his dad basically lives at his office. You’re relieved that you won’t have to put on a nice face for the folks, but there’s apparently still a live-in housekeeper that floats around (are you fucking kidding?) so you stay diligent.

Adrian suggests you two work in his room; you figure the further from watchful eyes, the better.

Despite it being his idea, Adrian can't help his giddy nervousness as you enter his room (he’d texted the housekeeper to make sure it was clean as soon as you decided to come over, lucky he keeps his souvenirs hidden away whenever he’s not admiring them).

The room is frankly ridiculous, easily twice the size of yours, a king bed in the corner, a desk and coffee table and two dressers, and yet adorned with piles of clothes and clutter and more genres of nerdy shit than you even knew existed.

"Yeah, okay, parts of this make sense."

Adrian cocks his head, opening his mouth to ask what you mean, when he suddenly chokes on air.

You've made a bee-line right to his desk, covered in books and papers for hobbies and school alike, but also holding a locked drawer at the very bottom in which he keeps his "school collection" (just discarded pencils with bitten erasers, torn up notebook paper he can still smell your hands on, old gym shorts you were probably gonna replace soon anyway, a bandaid here, a plastic fork there; nothing crazy).

He watches with bated breath as you sift through the contents of his desk, occasionally scoffing or chuckling at what you find. He lets out a sigh when you seem to grow bored, just for you to move on to his dresser and have his stomach doing somersaults all over again.

Maybe he should've asked the housekeeper to hide his stuff better and just braved the questions later...

You move throughout the room like you own it (you do, as far as the both of you are concerned), making little jabs at his various posters and figurines which make his whole body flush hot with pleasure because you're noticing things about him, but every other move you make sends his heart jumping into his throat in a completely different way.

It only takes a minute or two for the stress to get to him.

“Ah- hey! Uh, maybe we should- maybe we should start on the project, right?”

You bark a laugh and spin on your heel to face him, an incredulous half-grin pulling your lips and revealing a gut-twisting flash of teeth.

"We?"

Oh, yeah, he much prefers those intense eyes boring into him.

He starts spluttering placations immediately. "No! Well, uhm, I didn't mean- you, you don't- have to- obviously, I mean, I don't- I wouldn't-"

You roll your eyes and shove past him, effectively cutting him off as you flop down onto his abominably soft mattress. "Right, yeah, whatever. Let's get one thing straight here, okay?"

Adrian nods, his whole being drawn to focus at your entrancingly commanding tone. Although, it's incredibly hard to focus on anything with the sight of you on his bed right in front of him; he's already planning how to avoid that area so it'll retain your scent longer, he wonders if he could cut that part of the duvet out and keep it in an airtight container, maybe the sheets under it too just to be safe...

"This is not a "we" situation, got it? I'm not lifting a damn finger for this bullshit, that's what you're there for." Adrian has a purpose to you! "I am only here to make sure you're actually doing it, which shouldn't be a problem because if we get anything less than an A, it's gonna be your ass."

As tempting as it is to see what punishment you would inflict upon him, Adrian really really really wants to please you- and he's pretty good at this subject anyway!

You then cross your arms and lean back just enough to look down your nose at him. "Got it?"

Adrian can't answer fast enough.

"Yes! Yes, that's perfect! Awesome, good- great!"

But then he doesn’t make a move. Ha.

He looks a little lost, standing in the middle of his own room, barely biting down a grin and wringing his hands as he seems to wait for another command.

Apparently, you’ve trained him well.

You scoff and let yourself fall onto your back as you pull out your phone (Adrian's gonna need a bigger airtight container).

"Well, go on then, we don't have all day."

Adrian scrambles to get to work. He quickly positions himself on the floor by the foot of the bed and pulls the coffee table closer, emptying his school bag carelessly onto the carpet.

You huff a laugh at the sight, all this money and the kid's parents couldn't buy him any class. Maybe sloppiness is an inherent trait, like his apparent passion for service- nobody with this much money should be such a pushover. And yet...

Adrian couldn’t be happier, sitting on the floor while you lounge across his bed and periodically weigh in with (mostly incorrect) corrections or snide remarks, an almost alarmingly wide grin settled on his face as his tail taps a steady rhythm against his carpet.

It’s not an unpleasant picture, you muse absently as you look up from your phone, it’s almost comforting to have your little puppy on the floor, cheerily working away for you while you laze about. It certainly beats doing the work yourself, or having to threaten a student with an actual spine to do it for you.

Still, it doesn't take long for you to get bored. Bored enough to notice your empty stomach, at least.

"I'm hungry."

Adrian's head shoots up from the book he was hunched over, ears raised at attention and eyes glittering with something you're not sure you care to identify.

He's on his feet in the next second, knocking his knees on the way up loud enough to startle you yet showing no signs of even noticing.

"I-I'll ask Len to make something!"

He darts out of the room before you can tell him what you want, but you trust he knows your moods and tastes well enough by this point to predict. (Oh, he does, and Len's not going to be making anything- they don't know all the special ingredients!)

The second he leaves, you decide to really cure your boredom by snooping around in earnest. Certainly this creep has something actually weird hidden in here, you just have to look in the right places.

You waste no time in sifting through his bookshelf (nerd shit), closet (nerd clothes, some dirty), a dresser (nerd clothes, mostly clean), under his bed (dirty clothes, nerd shit in boxes)- the door opens behind you.

“Wha-? Oh! Ah- Wh-what- what are you doing?”

You don’t even bother moving from your crouch, most of your upper body shoved under the bedstand while the rest of you... is not.

Adrian’s mouth is completely dry for several reasons.

“What’re you, blind? I’m snooping.”

Adrian slowly comes further into the room, hesitantly setting the serving tray on the low table. He can’t stop his voice from cracking as he stutters out,

“Uh- yeah, okay, yeah, but- um, would you maybe mind- um, not?”

You snicker, at least he has some manners. “Yeah, I do mind, actually. What’s the matter, mutt? Got something to hide?”

“N-no!”

The answer is so immediate, so fervent, that it has you pulling up just to give him an unimpressed look. He stares back at you, eyes wide and frenzied.

“Jesus you’re a bad liar.”

Looking at him now, you can see sweat glistening on his face and his hands clenching by his side. His eyes dart toward the dresser you haven't checked yet.

Bingo.

You jump up from your position and stride across the room with purpose. You only make it a few steps before Adrian seems to materialize in front of you, making you stop short and almost yelp from shock.

“S-sorry! I’m sorry, I just-" he's waving his hands wildly, head ducked as his gaze rapidly flicks between your face and the floor, "You-you can’t- please, please don’t-”

“Okay, creep, I get the gist.”

You shove past him, and he wishes he could relish the firm pressure of your hands on him.

He whirls around and watches in horror as you approach the dresser. He needs to do something, he needs to stop you, but what can he do? You’ve clearly made up your mind, it’s not like it's his place to try and change it...

All he can do is watch, a high ringing in his ears and his body filling with static, while you meticulously sift through every drawer until his clothes are strewn about the floor and you're panting with frustration.

He's about to let himself take a breath when you suddenly squat down and stick your arm into the shallow space underneath. He nearly swallows his tongue when you let out a disbelieving huff and awkwardly slide out a long lockbox.

You look up at him triumphantly, eyes sparkling with glee, and he almost mirrors your smile just for how captivating it is.

"Open it."

"N-no-"

You lean up toward him and cock your head, he has to stop himself from being drawn in by the magnetism of your narrowed eyes. “The fuck did you just say to me?"

"I'm sorry! I didn't- just, I can't-"

"Oh, I think you can. Or you're not gonna like what happens next."

That's where you're wrong, and it only really strengthens Adrian's extremely shaky resolve. He tries to keep the grin off his face as he habitually starts to picture the punishment you might give him; a cuff on the ears, a knee to the stomach, a punch in the face-

But you just roll your eyes and groan, no longer in the mood now that something more interesting has presented itself.

Instead, your gaze floats down to the flimsy looking combination lock on the box, then it fixes on some heavy-standed figurine you'd knocked off his bookshelf earlier.

Yeah, good enough.

Adrian barely has time to flinch before you're snatching it up and breaking the lock with a sound crack.

Then you're lifting the lid.

"No!"

He starts to lunge forward, but your sharply raised hand halts him dead in his tracks.

Fuck.

It's too late anyway, judging by your wide eyes and slightly slack jaw (god how he wishes he could focus on the glorious curve of your open lips, or the way your perfect teeth peek over them, or how it might feel to have those teeth sunk into his skin-)

"What. The. Fuck."

"I-I can explain- It's not-!"

"I literally do not believe that you can."

Adrian's throat goes dry, he feels tears welling in his eyes. "I'm sorry- I'm sorry! I never meant- it's not like-"

You tune Adrian out as you focus on the stacks and stacks of photos arranged in the box before you. There even seem to be books underneath those, thick ones despite the shallowness of the container. You’d say there’s easily hundreds of pictures in here.

But, more concerning than the amount of photos… is their content.

They’re all you.

Undeniable, from every angle and range and setting you could imagine, it’s all you. There’s you at your spot with your friends, sitting in class, in the cafeteria, running errands in town, sneaking off to that private spot nobody else is supposed to know about, asleep in your bed- in dozens and dozens of iterations, like you could probably make a flip book of every scene.

It’s offensively redundant, honestly, a gross waste of paper. Maybe equally as concerning.

(Adrian needs to keep physical copies, and hard drives, and backup hard drives, and another box further under the dresser... What if something happens to his phone? What if he lost all his treasured photos forever? He doesn’t know what he’d do.)

"You're a bigger creep than I gave you credit for." You murmur, mostly to yourself.

Adrian never thought he'd feel anything but sheer joy from hearing that word leave your mouth. "N-no! It's not- it's not like that! I'm not- I don't-"

While Adrian's still blustering and working himself into a tizzy, you're just... processing.

It's oddly unsurprising, once you consider all the other factors together. Looking at it now, of course Adrian had more perverted reasons for complying to your cruelty, what else could he have been getting out of it? You guess you kinda always knew, on some level, but you never thought it would be like this.

But, since it is, you can't help but wonder just how far this perversion has gone, how far it will go...

This night has been boring enough that you're entitled to a little fun, right?

And besides, looking at him now- all wide eyed and droopy eared, his tail pulled between his legs and clutched in his trembling hands- Adrian actually looks a little bit... cute? In a pathetic, dirty stray caught in the rain type of way, of course.

The only real difference is that you'd be much kinder to the stray.

"Alright, shut it, stalker."

Adrian's mouth snaps closed, his tail trying to tuck further at your dangerously low voice.

"Obviously, this severe-" you flap a stack of photos at him, causing him to duck his head and whimper, "-invasion of my privacy can't go unpunished."

Adrian's eyes become impossibly bigger as they flash up to watch you stand. His ears suddenly perk, his tail tugs against his grip as it tries to hesitantly wag.

Jesus, he's shameless.

This is gonna be fun.

But first, a plan. You don't want Adrian getting too bold, so what better way to keep him in his place than by tying him there? Looking around his room, you don't have much to work with, but you're resourceful; a lace from his sneakers should do just fine (who keeps shoes in their room? what a creep).

"Alright. Sit."

Adrian is falling to his knees before his brain can process the words. When it does, he isn't quick enough to bite down on the high keen that builds in his throat.

You scoff, mentally scorning yourself for ignoring his shit for so long, then go to pull a lace. Adrian watches in rapt attention as you test its strength, your hands flexing so tantalizingly as you pull the string harshly several times over.

He holds his breath on instinct when your scrutinizing glare scans the room again.

"Okay, bed. Back to the headboard. Now."

Adrian scrambles up immediately, pulling some of the sheets off in his hurry, eager to obey before you change your mind.

You follow right after, kneeling up and leaning over him to tie his hands to the headboard above him. His dry throat click as he gulps.

You're so close, your heavenly scent filling his lungs like a sweet paralyzing vapor, he can feel the heat radiating from your skin despite the clothes between you, he could probably taste you if he just stuck out his tongue...

He whines as you yank the shoelace tight with a grunt before tying it off. You tug on his hands once more, forcing the string deeper into his skin, and your hum of satisfaction is drowned out by Adrian's low groan.

What a wonderful feeling, the sharp sting of the lace grounding him down like he needs to be; he can't help twisting and pulling until the burn intensifies, imagining it's your firm hands holding him so tightly...

"Jesus, freak, you're already getting into it?"

Adrian just whimpers, barely registering the question past your condescending tone as he continues to squirm.

You suddenly grab the front of his shirt and pull him forward until he's partially hovering off the mattress, the combined pressure of your knuckles under his chin and the shoestring grating his tender wrists pulls a breathy moan along with.

You lean in close, practically growling as you say, "Don't do my job for me, mutt."

You press a relatively fresh bruise on his arm just to see him twitch and bite his lip (it’s actually from a week ago, that’s how good he is at maintaining your marks for you!). It is pretty gratifying.

Almost as gratifying as the bulge you spot between his wantonly spread legs.

A breathless laugh punches out of you. It's oddly jarring to see, and you would later deny that it's slightly impressive, but it's not an entirely unpleasant sight.

"God, you're fucking pathetic. But you know that, don't you, you little creep?"

If your words weren't enough to have Adrian shaking out of his skin, you lean closer and nip his ear; he jerks back instinctively at the pain, which only makes its sting so much sweeter when you sink your teeth in and pull back.

He doesn’t bother trying to keep himself quiet.

“This isn’t even a punishment for you, is it? Is it, you fucking perv?”

Adrian is so far beyond saving face, he’s mostly beyond communication of any kind, so he just shakes his head fervently and grunts and hopes it’s good enough.

“Use your words, mutt.”

He gasps as you yank his throbbing ear, pulling his face closer to yours- oh dear god he can feel your hot breath against his cheeks, every detail of your perfect face so confident and dangerous and ethereal, your sparkling eyes look positively deadly and Adrian is ready to submit himself to their perils-

“Answer me," your sharp words make his lashes flutter, but he keeps his eyes wide open to stare at your taunting smile hanging just inches from his face, "are you getting off on this?”

He nods, he’s starting to get dizzy with all this nodding but he doesn't feel capable of much else, then you tug his hair back with the most glorious burn-

“Ah-Yes! Yes, I love- I love it, please- give me- more- please, I need- I need-“

He cuts off with a choked sound as your fingers slide up his throat and tighten, all too happy to oblige.

"That what you want? You happy now?" You taunt, your breath against the shell of his ear raising goosebumps all over his body.

He tries to nod against your grip, causing you to smirk and push further.

Oh god yes please-

Garbled moans fight their way from his throat as his eyes roll back in ecstasy, his straddled legs pressing tightly together as he thrashes desperately against the headboard, his whole body trembling and pushing up and up in search of contact- but you keep pulling away, putting more pressure on his neck to support yourself, bringing out the most pitiful little whimpers.

"Use your words, puppy."

Puppy.

Adrian chokes for reasons entirely unrelated to your hand on his neck. His tail, which had been beating a rapid tempo since you sat him down, starts flailing into overdrive.

It takes considerably more effort, but Adrian needs to please you- maybe you’ll even reward him!- so he coughs and gasps until he can force out,

"Y-Yes,” a strained cough, “Tha-agh-thank- you-"

A smile curls your lips unbidden. Such initiative! You let your fingers stroke over his throat as your hand presses in harder.

"There, that's a good boy."

Adrian's vision whites out.

He’s not even aware of the stream of whines and moans that force their way from beneath your fingers, he doesn't notice how his body squirms against the pressure of you on top of him, he couldn't tell the frantic thumping of his tail from that of his heart- all he can focus on is the red hot ecstasy filling every inch of him to bursting, the transcendent bliss of being so thoroughly claimed, so completely controlled, so wholly owned by you.

He's still hiccupping moans and thumping his tail when you withdraw your hand for fear of suffocating him, these needy little noises escaping his already bruising throat.

His head lolls back and his mouth falls open as you remain suspended above him, taking in your handiwork.

He’s so vulnerable, his entire body open and happily exposed to you, every muscle trembling in the aftershocks. His chest heaves as sweat and tears drip down onto his shirt, but he seems to pay no mind as his vacant eyes flutter up at you. He struggles to keep them open as a dopey grin spreads across his bitten lips, and you have to bite your own to stop from returning it.

Then, your eyes travel down to the steadily shrinking tent of his pants, now adorned with a dark wet stain- just like you expected.

Hot.

"Pathetic."

You sit back on you heels, seemingly alerting Adrian to your absence as his hand flies up to grab his throat with a high whine- but you cut that shit off right away.

"Yeah, no, I'm not trying to catch a murder charge tonight, thanks. Besides," your eyes pointedly flick down between his spread legs, causing his face to heat up though he makes no move to close them, "it looks like you got more than your share- frankly, you should be grateful for anything I'm willing to give you."

Adrian's voice is hoarse when he tries to insist, "I am! I-" he cuts off with a heavy cough, which only has you wincing with guilt a little. "I'm- I'm grateful. I am!"

You don't doubt it, especially looking into those watery, red-rimmed puppydog eyes of his. However, you do like to be cruel, and you did just get a bunch of texts from some of your friends about this 'super crazy thing you don't wanna miss and you gotta get down here right now!', (and you're maybe feeling a little uncharacteristically giddy as you fully process your situation) so...

"Doesn't matter, I can't reward this insolence."

You untie the shoelace with a deft tug and slide off the bed without another word.

Adrian just barely stops himself from whining again, the sudden loss of the pressure around his wrists leaving him feeling untethered. He has to dig his nails into his hands as he watches you collect your things (the covered platter lay forgotten on the table, insult to injury), just to keep from reaching out for you.

He wants desperately to follow you, but he can't make his body move for how relaxed and heavy it feels, and he knows it would probably just upset you more anyway- and not in the good way.

“Oh, and Adrian?” You slap the doorframe as you hang off of it, and your use of his name has Adrian's groggy head springing up to face you instantly, ears high and eyes hopeful.

“Next time you want a picture of me, just ask. That way I can knock some sense into you right away.” You tap the frame again, a crooked grin fixing your lips before you push off.

“See ya tomorrow!”

Still too fuzzy to move, and in fresh shock from that almost-genuine smile, he can only listen forlornly as your steps grow fainter and fainter until the door shuts downstairs. Then, he's helpless to do anything beyond replay the events of the past ten minutes in obsessive detail in attempts to permanently document every single sensation you gave to him.

He only manages to move about a half hour later, when his phone buzzes with a text.

He slowly leans over the bed and lifts his phone from the floor, blinking blearily as he reads... your name. Attached to a ludicrously extravagant lunch order for tomorrow.

The phone drops from his fingers like lead.

How?

His heart starts racing as he wracks his brain to recall when you put his number in your phone- then, his tail starts up again as he wonders if he'll be punished for already having yours in his (not for anything weird! he just likes to type out walls of text complimenting every part of you and telling you exactly the ways he wants you to destroy him and then deleting them- but maybe he'll send the next one).

It must mean something good if you want to keep in close contact with him, right? That must mean you aren't really mad at him, right? That must mean you like him, right? You still think he’s a good boy, right?

Another text lights up his phone. He scrambles to grab it back, hands shaking as he holds the screen close to his face.

[ur gnna b my bitch 4evr now]

A shaky giggle escapes him.

Those are easily the most beautiful words he’s ever read.

thanks so much for reading! feel free to send a request <3

check my pinned post~

#yandere x reader #yandere x you #soft yandere #sub yandere #hybrid yandere #puppy yandere #male yandere #bully reader #gn reader #dom reader #yandere oc #yandere imagine #yandere requests

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greatstormcat · 6 days

Text

Thinking about being someone the taskforce boys because very close to, but you don’t work directly with them. Perhaps a medic that they gravitate towards after missions and training incidents. After a a few months you find that the dating pool dries up, anyone you think would be a good candidate for a date starts to flake on you with no notice. Even just trying to get a one night stand becomes harder and harder. Prospective partners just seem to… run scared, even when you seem to be getting on so well.

Sometimes, when a date is agreed, you’ll end up having to cancel because work gets in the way, such as Gaz needs your attention after Soap landed a punch during sparring practice. Once Ghost was having a flare up of his shoulder injury and no one else in the med bay wanted to cover for you because that big bastard was in a bad mood and intimidating everyone. Funnily enough he was perfectly sweet once you appeared and you spent a few hours strapping the injury and chatting.

This goes on the months, the longest dry spell of your life, and the frustration is painted on your face everyday. If you don’t get laid soon you feel you are going to lose your mind. The constant let down was enough to make you weep in your lowest moments. Coupled with the increasing amount of time you were spending around the Taskforce, huge slabs of muscle and menace, you were on a hair trigger.

You’d promised yourself not to turn to them though, they didn’t need some groupie chasing them around, not another one anyway. There were plenty of people on base throwing themselves at Soap and Gaz, and watching them get turned away was painful. Even Price and Ghost had their own fan clubs, but no one was bold enough to be as open about trying to get into their bunks. What chance would you stand with them when they turned away men and women you couldn’t begin to compare yourself to? Enter to stay friends with them.

In the end, you found out about a private club in town that promised anonymous sex in a safe and controlled location. You made your mind up and filled out the application. A few weeks later you find yourself in one of their cubicles, naked, and staring at the padded bench that joins the wall. At the end of it, a large hole with a curtain stares back at you. All you had to do was lie down on the bench and put your lower half through the hole. On the other side, someone would… join you. Or several someones. You’d signed up for multiple partners, maybe doing the form drunk wasn’t wise.

Swallowing your nerves, you take a deep breath and get onto the bench, shuffling down so your feet and hips slotted through the gap. Almost immediately warm, large hands grip your ankles and guide them into stirrups gently. You barely hide the jolt of shock and the accompanying squeak of shock, and the pair of hands run over your knees and shins slowly, comfortingly. It’s an oddly tender gesture for someone who doesn’t know who is the other side of the wall.

Then your eyes roll back into your skull as hot breath fans across your pussy. Finally, you sigh in relief as a tongue licks a light strip along the seam of your pussy. Once the mystery man begin to lick and suck expertly at your clit, making your toes curl and you breath coming in urgent gasps, you barely register the scratch of beard against your delicate skin or notice there’s more than one set of rough hands on your legs.

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doobea · 6 months

Text

✰⋆⁺★ GOOGLE IT ─ CHOSO KAMO

synopsis: choso finally goes on a date with you but he's an absolute nervous wreck.

contents: choso being silly and inexperienced, gn!reader, somehow he thinks his brothers get more partners, half!brother sukuna makes an appearance, sfw/very fluffy, things to do and not to do on date, no curse AU word count: 2.4K a/n: of course i gotta release a choso fic before any of my milestones duh

"Uh, Choso? What are you doing?" Yuuji's voice calls from behind and it startles Choso, quite badly.

Choso's hands fly up in a messy attempt to cover his laptop screen, only to realize that he could've shut it instead. So he does that, loud and with too much force than originally intended, causing the cup of tea next to him to rattle and spill.

The liquid drips down to his newly purchased dress pants for the very topic he was just looking at, but he ignores it and tries to pretend that it didn't burn his skin and that he isn't mildly disappointed that he might've ruined an expensive pair.

"Nothing," Choso tries to level out his voice but his face always betrays him.

The moment Yuuji eyes his outfit, then darting to the number of colognes sprawled across his desk, and down to the neatly tucked dress shoes underneath his seat, Choso begins to falter.

"Nothing, huh," Choso doesn't stop Yuuji when he pushes his chair aside and opens his laptop. A stifle laugh and then a rather loud 'aww' emits from his brother and Choso feels like his life has flashed before his eyes. "Could've sworn you were reading an article that was like," and he, unfortunately, reads the title out loud. "85 First Date Ideas You’ll Actually Find Fun."

He snatches the laptop away from his brother before he could start listing all 85 and, this time, clenches it to his sides. Almost too embarrassed to admit, Choso mumbles out, "It's for research..."

"He's got a date tomorrow," Sukuna pipes in lazily from the bedroom entrance, frame leading against the doorway. "Saw him looking at WikiHow for kissing tips the other—"

"Sukuna," Choso slides further down in his seat. "You said you wouldn't bring it up."

The older male looks up briefly from his phone and scoffs. "Yeah, I said I wasn't gonna talk about it with you. I'm talking to Yuuji right now."

Choso should've known better to expect Sukuna of all people to keep a promise.

He rubs the bridge of his nose in exasperation and sighs heavily. "Okay, yeah, I have a date and I don't know what to do." Choso confesses.

The fact that it's actually happening is a miracle to him. Just last week, he'd finally gathered the courage and asked you out after dancing around the topic for months. And when you agreed, he felt like doing a somersault, but maybe that would've been too much. He's going on a date with you. You and him. Dating? Yeah, dating.

As much as he's excited for it, Choso can't help but to feel anxious and jittery because, well, he's never been on a date. Hence, if anyone would to compare his search history to that of a teenage boy, no one would be able tell the difference.

The number one date idea that's listed on that ridiculous article is rock climbing. Freaking rock climbing on a first date? Is that what people do nowadays?

Another 'aww' comes from Yuuji. "You guys do look cute together!" He gushes. "Have you decided where you're going to take them?"

Choso sighs again and places his laptop back on the desk, and away from the spilled tea, he's still gotta worry about his outfit situation later. "I haven't."

Yuuji throws out a long 'dude' while Sukuna laughs at his dismay.

"I know, I know," Choso opens his laptop again and stares at the many tabs he has opened.

So much research and yet he's feeling nothing but overwhelmed and underprepared. What if you actually find him creepy and weird? Did you only agree because you felt pity for him? Ugh, the last thing he would want is to make you feel uncomfortable.

"Hey," Sukuna appears by his side and throws a firm hand on his shoulder. "Stop bitchin' around and let me help."

"Help?" Yuuji takes the words out of Choso's mouth as they both stared at Sukuna with wide eyes. Normally, 'help' isn't in his vocabulary, at least when it comes to him offering it.

Sukuna cocks a brow. "Don't want it? Fine. Don't come crawling to me when it doesn't work out."

Choso weighs his options. He'll either spend the rest of his afternoon reading up dozens of lamely curated articles written by self proclaimed 'internet love doctors' or he could listen to his older half brother that has quite the reputation of breaking people's hearts. The answer is obvious, but maybe Choso could actually hear out some real life advice rather than listening to random strangers online.

He groans inwardly and accepts Sukuna's offer.

In the end, Choso ends up taking you to an amusement park. While rock climbing would've been 'too' active for a first date, Sukuna proposed an amusement park because it'll offer tons of ride options, the environment will keep everyone busy so there wouldn't be a lull moment, and it'll be great for, um, physical intimacy. Whatever he meant by that. Choso was too afraid to ask for clarification.

"You guys can be like the shitty Disney couples waiting in line," Sukuna commented.

"Yeah, yeah," Yuuji agreed. "You can say 'I'll never leave you, my love. It's us against the world.'"

Is that what they take him as? Choso doesn't know if that was meant to be a compliment or an insult. But, the fact that both of them were nodding at him approvingly before he left, he can only assume they have faith and confidence ... so that's something?

He arrives at the meeting spot maybe thirty minutes early and was about to text you when he sees you there already waiting, sitting on one of the benches and watching something on your phone. Oh no.

"Oh, hey!" You call out to him when you peer up.

"Hey," Choso lamely waves as he walks over. "How long have you been waiting? Did... Did I get the time wrong?"

"What? No, no!" You shake your head, aggressively. "I just... wanted to come a bit early, too. Don't sweat it, I literally got here five minutes ago!"

"Okay..." Still, he can’t help but feel a little guilty. And here he was trying to make a good impression by showing up early.

"Let’s go?" You smile at him and god, did that always take his breath away.

He texts the family group chat as soon as you both board the bus.

[Yuuji's Favorite Brother] I feel like my heart is about to burst.

[SUCKuna] Lol.

[YUU YUU] You got this!! 💪🏻💪🏻

"What 'cha looking at over there?" Your voice rings into his ear and he almost jumps out of his seat, nearly dropping the phone. "Woah, careful."

"Just checking the weather," Choso immediately regrets his answer and cringes.

You don't push the subject further and instead refocus your attention when the park comes into view. "Looks like they added new rides, Cho. Where do you wanna head first?"

"Actually, I was thinking maybe the food court? You haven't eaten yet, right?"

You laugh. "If I barf later then it's not my fault."

"Haha, yeah." His phone buzzes with a notification. A message from Sukuna this time.

[SUCKuna] Dead yet?

[Yuuji's Favorite Brother] Surprisingly alive.

[SUCKuna] 👍🏻

It takes a while to get to the food court, and Choso believes that the crowd has grown bigger as the two of you started to bump into one another frequently. He considers taking your hand into his but hesitates. Is that too much to ask? Do you mind? And suddenly, he forgets everything that he's read in the last week.

Choso decides to text Sukuna for his thoughts.

[Yuuji's Favorite Brother] When should I hold their hand? Is there a waiting period? Should I ask?

[SUCKuna] Just do it.

[Yuuji's Favorite Brother] Are you sure???

[SUCKuna] Lmao yeah.

Well, that's not helpful at all.

Choso eventually chickens out and walks behind you, making sure that no one bumps into you, and tries his best to listen while you list down all the rides you want to go on, the scamming logistics of cursed carnival games, and the insane prices for fair food. Most of your ranting flies out of his ear because he can't stop thinking about holding your hands. The only piece of information he remembers hearing is something about the prices of food here are the same as the ones in a movie theater.

Still, that didn't stop you from grabbing yourself a corn dog, some french fries, and a lemonade. You two manage to find an open table outside right by the ferris wheel.

"Okay, I take it back," You say after biting into your food. "These are pretty good."

[Yuuji's Favorite Brother] How hard is it to make corndogs?

[SUCKuna] Do I fucking look like a Google search engine?

[Yuuji's Favorite Brother] Sorry.

"Still checking the weather?" You pipe up from beside him, and Choso exists out the messaging app before you could see what he was doing.

"Um, yeah, I guess."

"Hm," you hum in thought for a moment before continuing. "Where do you wanna go after this?"

"Anywhere you want," Choso admits.

He hasn't been back to an amusement park in ages. The last time that he was here he vaguely recalls going on a rollercoaster ride with Yuuji, and that was after he downed a whole burger meal. Anyone could've imagined that it ended rather horribly. But Choso didn't care if you were going to throw up on him, though, he's praying that you wouldn't. He just wants you to enjoy the day, enjoy spending time together, and he's fine with you taking the lead.

Your eyes light up as you stare at the ride behind. "Then..."

Choso smiles. "Yeah?"

"Can we go on the ferris wheel?" You finish.

"Anything for you."

Turns out that Sukuna might be a hidden romantic. He wasn't wrong to suggest an amusement park as a first date and Choso can see why both of his brothers would see him as the 'Disney Couple' type. Although the ferris wheel was your idea, he can't help but to think that, if he had the confidence, he would probably be cuddling and sneaking kisses with you right now. Hell, if it weren't for the fact that he's currently suspended 100 feet in the air, he'd probably ask to hold your hands. Maybe.

"You have to put some moves on them," he remembers Sukuna say to him before he left the house.

And exactly how is he supposed to do that? He gets his phone out to text him, to ask for some more advice when—

"Hey, Choso..." Your voice rings by his ears again. You sound unsure. This catches his attention.

"Is there something wrong?" Did he do something wrong? Why do you look upset?

"Are you… having fun?"

"Huh?" The question catches him off guard. Did you think he wasn’t having fun? "Of course I am."

You take a deep breath and begin toying with the hem of your shirt. "It's just... you've been on your phone all evening. I'm sorry if this is boring—that I'm boring—"

"W-What?" Choso panics. "You’re not, I'm—"

He doesn’t notice sending the message to Sukuna, but he does in the end.

[Yuuji's Favorite Brother] Sukuna, how do you kiss someone again?

You excuse yourself before Choso can explain further. You reach to grab your phone, saying something about your parents or friends sending something important. Then Choso watches as your eyes stretch wide like flying saucers.

"Oh."

"W-What happened?" Did he do something again to make you uncomfortable? God, this has to be one of the worst dates you've been on.

"I—um," Choso feels all the color drain from his face when you flip your screen around. He accidentally sent that text to you out of all people. "Uh, last time I checked, my name isn't Sukuna."

Oh god.

This is it. This is how he dies.

"Y-You're not wrong..." How is he going to explain that?

You snort a tiny laugh. "So… you’ve been texting Sukuna this whole time?"

"...Yes?" Choso slumps his shoulders and brings a hand up to cover his burning face. "I-I'm sorry, I was just really nervous and I wanted to make sure that I wasn't messing things up. I really like you and didn't mean to make you feel—"

"Choso." You laugh quietly, and he thanks god because it seems like all of the misery that was on his face earlier had disappeared. "It’s fine, it’s okay!"

"But I—" Choso bites his lip. "I'm sorry again that I made you feel like that. I'm an awful date."

"You’re not." You try reassuring him. Then, a brief pause. "Well, maybe a little bit." You motion with your fingers.

He can't argue with that.

"Um, I guess—" You smile sheepishly at him before placing your hand on top of his, squeezing gently. "I guess you have to make up to me!"

Choso feels a blush creeping up on his cheeks again.

"You’re not the only one who’s nervous, you know. I’ve texting Nobara and Megumi nonstop over the past few days about what I should wear and—god, you don't even know how long I spent in front of the mirror this morning—"

"Me too!" Choso catches himself when he sees you flinch. "I mean—I’ve been… I’ve been reading up on what to do on a date and what not to do on a date and where to go on a date and...? I’m such an idiot." He looks down at both of your hands, which were still linked together. The sun is just about to set, the ferris wheel cart is swaying gently in the wind, and the lights around the park are slowly turning on.

"Don’t apologize." You chuckle softly. "I'm just glad to know I wasn’t boring you."

"You weren’t! I—I really enjoyed today." He really did, despite feeling like his body was going to combust at any given time. "Please, let me make it up to you."

You smile again, leaning against him. "Sure thing."

"So, uh… you want get out of here?"

"Mhm." You grin and Choso thinks about what he did right to be able to see that smile directed at him. "Oh, and Cho?"

"Yeah?" You're still holding hands by the time the ride comes back down to the ground level. "What is it?"

"I really like you, too."

Choso is pretty sure his body might explode soon, but he'll have to be sure to send Sukuna his thanks before then.

#jjk choso #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen fluff #choso x reader #choso kamo x reader #choso fluff #choso kamo fluff #choso x y/n #jujutsu kaisen x gender neutral reader #choso x you

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love-that-we-were-in · 2 months

Text

lighting the fuse might result in a bang

pairing: frat!luke castellan x reader summary: Silena thinks you need to start blowing off some steam. You think you just need a fresh victory and Luke Castellan is the perfect opponent. word count: 5.3k warnings: smoking, drinking, usual college party stuff.

author's note: brought to you by my personal deep dark history with boys in hats. also i haven't gotten drunk in like 4/5 years so i don't remember what it's like so this was interesting. also i don't know anything about frats OR smoking. have the most fun <3

When Silena mentions a party you could go to, you jump at the offer, brain fuzzing at the edges where you’ve been locked in on flashcards all afternoon. It’s something you’ve started to navigate better this year, remembering to have fun after a year of non-stop focus. Silena makes it easier - a social butterfly with no qualms about dragging you out of the library when she thinks you’re pushing yourself too hard - and there’s no harm in listening to her without protest sometimes.

“Do you even know who’s throwing this one?” You ask as she’s leading you through campus, rubbing at your arms to fight the fall chill. “I do not want a repeat of March.”

“Have some faith in me. I’ve started vetting my sources.”

Both of you shiver, the memory of a night spent outside the Stolls’ cramped dorm still haunting you six months later. You’re not overly familiar with this side of campus, turning away from the usual halls and towards the sorority housing, but Silena walks the path with ease, arm looped through yours.

The walk seems to have cleared your head, the music as you approach shaking off the last of the static. You’ve been here before, borrowing notes from a teammate, but it’s different like this, all pumping bass and cheers from the kitchen. Clarisse waves at you from across the room, beer in hand, and you mutter to Silena that you’re going to grab a drink. She nods, making a beeline for Drew Tanaka. You assume that’s who the invitation came from originally.

There’s a different energy to the kitchen, not quieter by any means but less noisy. Less concentrated, maybe, with twenty different conversations happening at once and nothing you have to pay attention to. Most people you don’t recognise, a group from your first year stats class huddled together near the sink, and the Stolls off to the side pointing at every new person they see.

Mixing your drink is an easy fix, the kitchen island covered in more choices than you’ve seen in a while, and you savor the first few sips. Between class and swimming, you’ve barely drank since the semester began and the burn of vodka isn’t as numbed as you wish it was. Still, a drink is a drink so you refill it before returning to the thick of the party.

Clarisse takes it upon herself to drag you away from the conversation you end up trapped in with Lee Fletcher, quite literally taking hold of your elbow. You mutter an apology, however disingenuous, rolling your eyes in mock exasperation as he smiles grimly.

“I have no idea how you talk to that lot,” she says when you’re far enough away. “They’re all boring.”

“Lee’s great. He always lends me notes from the lectures I miss.”

She laughs, pushing you into another room. “He’s trying to swindle a date out of you and you’re using him for lecture notes.”

You shrug. There’s nothing wrong with Lee, except that Clarisse is a little right when she says most of your classmates are boring. It’s probably not intentional, and they definitely don’t realize it, but there’s this way they carry themselves around campus - half-nervous and half-haughty. It’s not a great combination and it’s why you gravitate towards the people Silena meets.

“We were wondering when we were going to see you next,” Chris says as he throws an arm over Clarisse’s shoulder. You still don’t quite know the story there, how Chris Rodriguez managed to sweet talk your stoic teammate. One day, you’ll find out - a drunken vow you made with Silena on your dorm room floor when Clarisse mentioned a boyfriend - but you’re content to let them enjoy their romance in peace for now. “Almost thought you’d succumbed to the dark side.”

“You’re not getting rid of me yet.”

“And thank god,” he knocks his cup against yours before gesturing to the far corner of the room. “Because we need someone to kick Castellan’s ass at beer pong.”

“Whose?”

Turns out, Luke Castellan is the newest brother to ksig. There’s not much to know about Chris’ fraternity in your eyes, just the basics of all frats, and you know from last year that there’s always bound to be a hotshot that needs someone to pump the brakes on their ego. Usually, they’re on the younger side, with more money than sense and they don’t expect anything from your approach. Luke Castellan isn’t quite that, but he’s not far from it either.

While Chris talks to the boy who was about to play, you take the opportunity to size up your opponent. It comes naturally, a part of constantly competing, and it comes in handy in moments like this, when the element of surprise is a key factor to the situation going ahead.

Fitted jeans, branded polo and a stupid snapback cap worn backwards to show how cool he is. Nothing you haven’t seen before, really, except there’s this focused glint in his eyes with each plastic ball he throws like he has to prove his worth here. It’s a simple practice, unnecessary for a silly party game, but there’s this serious set to strong shoulders that you’re curious about.

The same way you want to know about Clarisse’s relationship, you want to know what makes Luke Castellan, whoever he is, tick.

“Are you trying to get alcohol poisoning, Rodriguez?”

“I’m not playing you, Luke,” Chris says and you watch closely as the other boy tilts his head slightly to the left. “I just had to go and get the current undefeated champion on campus.”

There’s this moment that happens every time you play - those awkward seconds where everyone looks completely past you to anyone else, anyone more noticeable. You count on it, occasionally, so it takes you a moment to process the way Luke’s gaze slides to you, drinks you in before he nods towards the other end of the table.

Chris mutters a quiet “you got this,” as you brush past him, handing him your drink. You’re not delusional enough to think you can get away with mixing your drinks this early in the game.

It takes two of Luke’s shots for you to land your first, his last hour of playing an advantage you accounted for. He’s not getting sloppy, not in the slightest, but he’s at the point where he’s a little worse for wear - a tired arm and hazy mind - and you take the chance you have at a false sense of security, taking your losses on the chin before playing the game to win.

Within seven shots between you, you can see Luke start to get restless. How he reevaluates the table in front of him, his three empty cups to your four. Part of you really wants to knock that hat off his head, as if it’ll give you more of an insight into his mind. Instead, you wait for what you know is coming, a slight miscalculation that has the plastic ball rolling off the table to land at someone’s feet.

Chris hands you a fresh one and you take in the way Luke swallows, jaw clenching as you line up your next shot. Whether he knows it or not, you’ve just been handed your win.

Clarisse cheers, handing you one of the cups from in front of you as everyone yells. You both chug what’s left of them, the bitter taste of cheap beer drowned out by victory, and as soon as that’s done, she throws herself back into Chris’ arms. Laughing, you turn around to find another drink, only to be met by Luke standing beside you.

“Are you about to be a sore loser?”

He chuckles and it’s different like this. His eyes are brown, which you didn’t know five minutes ago, and his hair is dark from the little wisps of it you can see peeking out underneath his hat. You consider telling him that the hat makes him look lame, but then he’s leaning down to whisper anyway. “I expect a rematch.”

It’s quiet and heavy and you wonder if anyone can tell that your blood feels like it’s on fire. It’s nothing, really, and it takes more effort than you want to respond.

“Then expect to lose.”

The only saving grace to the exchange is that Luke looks a whole lot more affected by it, a blush crawling up his neck as you take the drink nearest to you and leave to find your roommate once more.

Losing never used to get to you. Not like this, at least, where everything sort of feels like a precipice and you’re waiting for the next loss to fall on your shoulders alone. It was meant to be an easy game, a warm-up, for when the season started in earnest and you couldn’t afford to be incohesive. There’s always a learning curve, new starters and new competition, but in no world should it have caused this.

Silena tells you to let it go, throwing yet another outfit on her bed as she gets ready. When you saw her at lunch, Clarisse told you to just push harder during practice. Sometimes you’re not even sure how you can be friends with both of them, how they can be friends with each other either. Unfortunately, it becomes very clear when Clarisse knocks on the door that night.

“Why aren’t you ready?”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

She tuts at you, digging through the pile of clothing on Silena’s bed before throwing a dress at you. “Get dressed.”

“You can’t make me,” you protest, the black fabric scrunching in your fist. You’ve borrowed it before, for a party last year you don’t remember very well, and you don’t even want to consider why it’s the one Clarisse selected. You turn to your roommate, looking for backup, only to find her with a pair of your shoes in her hands. “Are you seriously going to make me?”

In unison, they raise a singular eyebrow each and it’s unsettling enough that you let go of all will to fight them. Today may as well just be full of losses that you can mourn tomorrow.

It’s only when you arrive at the party that you realize you have no idea who’s throwing it. Or who’s going to be there. Distantly, you really hope it’s a stranger Silena met on her way around campus - full of people you’ve ever met and will never see again. You could find someone nice enough to blow off some steam with before going on your merry way.

When Clarisse yells at her boyfriend, you let out a huff as both he and Luke Castellan turn around.

Since your first meeting, you’ve learned a few more things about Luke. He’s from Connecticut. He was responsible for half of Drew’s sorority coming down with the flu during freshers week. He’s in pre-med. He’s the reason Professor Chase introduced a ban on energy drinks in his lectures (one hundred students simultaneously opening a can of Redbull each was, apparently, mildly disconcerting). Most importantly, he’s always wearing that stupid cap.

You try to equate the things you know with the Luke standing in front of you. Some of it makes perfect sense - Professor Chase and Connecticut - and some of it unsettles you, but it’s all true. Freshers and pre-med and track meets. Focusing on the distracted way he taps on his beer bottle instead of Clarisse greeting Chris, you kind of want to find out a whole lot more.

“Fancy a rematch?”

It’s the first thing he’s said to you all night, twisting the cap off a fresh beer before handing it to you. Then doing the same with his own. You pretend not to notice the movement of it, the few short seconds where you can get away with staring at the shine of silver rings in low light. Taking a sip, you crinkle your nose.

“I’m not really in the mood,” you mutter and, at the very least, the beer is cold and you chug half of it before you even notice you’ve done it. “Don’t you have someone else you can bother?”

There’s seconds before you notice it, how his eyes shift from slightly curious to intense. They don’t change much but standing in front of him, you can tell when they go from relaxed to focused. How his back straightens and shoulders roll back just so. You should go and find something stronger to drink. Maybe even see if Lee Fletcher is nearby.

You stay put.

“It’s just a bit of friendly competition,” Luke shrugs, unknowing of how it echoes in your skull. How that’s all today was ever meant to be. Leave it to him to dig the knife in again just as the tightness in your chest was starting to ease. “But I guess you just can’t handle it.”

“I’d kick your ass in a rematch. I’m doing you a favor.”

It’s obviously the wrong thing to say, Luke’s eyes brightening as the words push past your lips. The beer you drank way too fast is forming words before you even know what they are.

“You can always choose something else for me to beat you in,” he says, like it’s an offer, something gracious that you should be grateful for. “I’m easy.”

“How many beers have you had?”

“Three, I think?”

Silena would tell you it’s a stupid idea - you have a coaching session at 9am and you haven’t gotten drunk since the party where you met Luke - and she would be right. But you need a win tonight, something guaranteed, and there’s this itch that crawls under your skin the longer you stare at the boy in front of you.

So you say it anyway.

“I bet I could outdrink you.”

“I’d like to see you try.”

He waits as you down two more beers in quick succession, nursing his own as you do. A clink of your bottles against one another, followed by the final sip you each take and it’s finally a competition.

The night continues, you and Luke almost joined at the hip. It’s to keep track, you tell yourself, talking to a kid that might be in your organic chem class. If the kid looks at you weird for pouring two drinks, only to hand one to Luke in silence, that’s probably just the alcohol misreading things. Only once, when you’re deep in conversation with Lee does Luke pass you a beer, eyebrow raised when Lee gives him a glare. You think that might’ve been drink eight.

By the time Chris finds you both again, you’ve thrown yourselves onto the couch on the outskirts of the room. Someone’s abandoned coat is thrown over your legs in a mediocre attempt to preserve some dignity in the dress you’re wearing and Luke’s hat has twisted to the side. You’re sure neither of you has drunk a sip in ten minutes.

“You guys doing okay?”

“We’re drunk,” you say and you can’t tell if it’s a whisper or a shout. “I’m winning.”

“You’re not winning,” Luke turns his head to glare and you blame the alcohol on the attention you pay to the slope of his nose. “Neither of us have finished these drinks.”

“Are you going to?”

He glances down at the cup in his hand, half empty. You can see it, the hesitation, before he places it on the floor by his feet, shaking his head. “Are you?”

The nice thing to do would be to give up, call it a draw and appreciate that you managed to have fun despite the bad day that had preceded it. However, you like to win. So you grit your teeth before drinking the final three sips, tilting the empty cup towards him so he can see the proof. It takes you a second to remember you have to actually swallow in order to drink, but you do and Luke scrunches his nose. You kind of want to kiss it as a way to smooth the skin back out.

“That’s two wins to me, Castellan.”

Chris shakes his head at you both. “I’m not calling either of you to make sure you’re alive in the morning.”

It’s an almost unconscious action when you walk into Drew’s sorority house, how you wave Silena off in favor of scanning the crowd, searching for the one reason you agreed to show up in the first place. It takes a moment, pinks and blues and silvers all merging together in your eyeline until you spot him near the staircase, familiar black cap resting on his head.

You’re already a little buzzed, the thrill of your final project this semester finally being handed in just hours ago, and it’s why you let yourself actually look at Luke for once.

By this point, you’ve seen him in a polo and a flannel, always with jeans. Laidback. That’s what party Luke was. Tonight, though, it’s like he’s trying harder - baggy pants, like they’re resting a little too low on his hips, a white t-shirt, white trainers that you know are going to stain before the night ends and a slightly oversized leather jacket that doesn’t quite go with the hat you used to identify him. Maybe it’s something he does on purpose, ruining a good thing over comforting familiarity. Maybe you’ll ask him.

Luke looks up then, as if he has a sixth sense, and you kind of don’t know what to do with the slight wave he sends in your direction. You wouldn’t call him a friend, that’s for sure, but you nod in response before weaving through your classmates to the kitchen.

It takes two vodka cranberries for Silena to find you. And it takes four shots with people you’ve never met for Chris to ask if you’ve seen Luke anywhere. You tell him where you last saw him, maybe an hour ago, and he shakes his head like he’s already checked the entire house.

“Do you think you can let him know I’m heading out?” Chris asks, one arm looped around Clarisse’s waist, more for support than anything else. She was already unsteady when you arrived and you know by the flush in her cheeks that it’ll only take a couple more drinks for her to start throwing up. You nod at Chris, cradling your drink to your chest, and he mumbles a thanks while steering his girlfriend towards the door.

With both of them gone, it leaves you with little to do except go hunting for Luke. So that’s what you do, waving Lee off as he attempts to grab your attention from the couch.

Focusing is a lot harder now, squinting over everyone’s heads in search of that damn hat. Nothing. You know he’s not in the kitchen, that’s definite, and you learn that he’s not in the garden either, Katie from your anatomy class staring at you bewildered as you explain your quest.

There’s only one place left to check for Luke and you consider if it’ll be a worthwhile risk. It’s entirely possible that he’s already left, whoever he was locked in conversation with earlier with him maybe, and you’re searching an entire sorority house on the off-chance he’s still in the building.

But you promised Chris. More than that, you refuse to let Luke Castellan beat you.

So you commit to the staircase, pushing past the line for the restroom upstairs. It’s quieter up here, not by much, but you can hear yourself think clearer. There’s three doors on your left, all closed, and you drain the remnants of your drink so it warms your blood and erases the small part of your brain still protesting.

There’s two yells when you knock on the first door, both hurried and pitching higher as the words fade so you move on quickly. No one answers to the second door, so you crack it open enough to see inside. It’s dark and neat and completely untouched by whatever is happening below, so you let it click shut again.

Luke is in the third room, you learn, pressing it open when there’s no response to your knock. The room itself is still orderly, but you find the boy you’ve been searching for sitting on the floor at the base of the bed, hat turned to the side and the sleeves of his jacket bunching carelessly where they’ve been pushed higher on his forearms.

“Chris wanted me to tell you he took Clarisse home,” you blurt when it feels like you need to say something. “He couldn’t find you so…”

Luke waits. When it becomes clear that’s all you’re here for, he says, “Well, thanks for letting me know.”

You’ve done your job. You can go back and enjoy the party downstairs, maybe make use of the empty room next door instead of remaining awkwardly in the doorway.

You think about how Chris mentioned that Luke can recite pi to seventeen places while drunk. How you’re still beating him by two points. How there’s an ashtray on the floor beside Luke’s knee and it’s sort of considerate of him to use one when no one else would.

“Mind if I join you?”

Being in an empty bedroom with a guy at a party isn’t unusual. You’ve had your fair share of them, rushed and quiet and mostly on a bed. Sitting on the floor with Luke is different, you find, a gravity to it than you can’t quite wrap your head around after so many drinks. It’s slow and languid and you don’t really say much of anything as your knee bumps against his thigh in an effort to get comfortable in the space.

No one told you Luke smokes.

You tell him as much.

“It’s a bad habit,” he shakes his head, twisting a cigarette between his fingers and you both act like you’re not paying rapt attention to it. “I try to avoid making it one.”

“I used to. Back in high school. Gave it up when I got accepted here.”

He turns to face you then, head tilted so the visor of his slanted hat brushes his shoulder. “I would never have guessed you were a smoker.”

It’s not said with judgment, just as an observation from the limited interactions you’ve had since the semester began. The focus in Luke’s gaze crawls up your spine and mingles with the alcohol you’ve yet to flush from your system.

“You ever blown a smoke ring?”

If you’re not challenging him, you don’t quite know what to make of Luke. It’s the thing you know most about him, the way his face shifts from victory into loss. The way it matches yours, stretches from his eyes to his jaw and into clenched hands. If you’re not challenging him, you can’t read him - you want to be able to read him in the low light of right now.

“I bet I’m better at it than you,” you say after he answers. A short laugh escapes him, almost a huff, and it raises the skin on your arms when it meets the top of your ear. “Wanna see?”

“I’ve only got one.” He waves the cigarette he’s been holding in front of your eyes.

“We can share.”

It’s a bad, terrible, absolutely stupid idea.

“You’re on, Castellan.”

As he lights the end of it, you wonder if he knows what the brief flame does for his cheekbones, for his jawline. Paints them in small, defined shadows that you might still see if you close your eyes. You almost want to mention it to him. You settle for watching his lips settle around it, the sinking of his cheeks on the inhale and the noise as he exhales. There’s an almost complete ring of smoke in the air.

Luke hands you the cigarette and you repeat his motions, a little quicker. A little smoother. The ring that leaves your lips is full, but less circular.

Both of you pretend not to notice the other one staring.

You agree to best of three. You agree and you win by the tiniest margin and you hand Luke the little that remains as a consolation prize. He indulges in the last few drags and you watch him do it, looking nothing like the pre-med student you know he is. You think he could be dangerous like this, based on the way your stomach twists as he puts the cigarette out, how his head tilts back and the final wisps of smoke escape his mouth.

You aren’t as drunk anymore.

You really wish you were.

It takes Luke a second to notice that you’ve moved at all, eyes still closed but he does, and the run of his gaze across your face is enough for you to seize the last of the alcohol in your bloodstream, pushing forward so you’re actually face to face with him, knees digging into the rough carpet beneath you.

“Can I help you?” It’s low and a little ragged and this is the first time you’ve really noticed the thin, pale scar that stretches down the skin of his right cheek. It’s actually a little insane how pretty he is up close.

“I think I want a little more than the glory of winning this time,” and half of your whisper is lost to Luke Castellan’s lips but it’s not that important anyway.

What is important is the warmth of his hand through your shirt, pressed into the skin that exposes itself as you shift even closer. It’s the slightly rough texture of his jaw underneath your palm, the way his breath hitches in tandem with yours and you both push through it anyway. It’s the unexpected catch of your finger on his cap and the way you give up on it entirely, finally snatching it off his head so it lands somewhere nearby.

You’re not sure what you expected Luke’s hair to look like. Horrible, probably, with odd patches that lie weirdly flat and should be covered from view. It’s not this, wild dark curls that deserve to be seen.

“You have curly hair?” You say it before you can think not to, so caught up in the discovery you’ve just made, and Luke squints at you, unsure. “I can’t believe you have curly hair.”

He’s preparing a smart-ass comment, you know it by the way his teeth dig into his bottom lip, and that’s really just not going to work this time - not when he’s been lying for months behind a hat. So you do what any sane person would, twist your fingers into the curls at the nape of his neck and trail your lips across his jaw like you’ll die if you don’t.

His hand hooks underneath your thigh and, when you bracket his waist between your legs, cool leather brushing against your knees, you think this might be the best victory you’ve experienced yet.

Silena knows something is up when you refuse to speak to her about the party. There’s few secrets you’ve kept from each other since meeting, and even less since Clarisse got involved. It’s pointless to try, mostly, since they all spill out of you when the lights go out and you’re left with each other's company. You almost forgot how annoying she could be when she’s pushing for information.

“Don’t think I’m going to tell you either,” you say when Clarisse joins you in the library a week after the party. “I am a fortress of secrets.”

“I know you hooked up with Luke.”

“Seriously?”

She rolls her eyes, passing you the book you’d asked her for during practice last night. “Calm down. Chris told me. I’m down ten bucks now.”

“You bet on it?”

“Of course we did, it’s our brand.”

“I’m not telling Silena,” you whisper again, frowning at your notes. You wonder if Clarisse is aware you haven’t actually spoken to Luke since that night. “She’ll make it a big deal for nothing.”

“I won’t tell but you should probably figure out what happens next. There’s a party at ksig tomorrow night before everyone goes home for the holidays.” You tap your pen against the textbook. Clarisse pushes a slip of paper towards you. Someone’s phone buzzes to your left. “Think about it.”

When she’s long gone, you grab the paper she left from the table. It’s wrinkled and you smooth it as best you can beneath your fingertips. Blue ink, messily scrawled, and you commit it to memory. Closing your textbook, you leave it pressed between chapters seven and eight.

The party is loud, louder than you’re prepared for after flaking out on so many since your first one last year. Silena brushes past you once you arrive, shoving your shoulder just enough that it twinges and you frown. You didn’t speak a word on the way here and the silent treatment is starting to drive a little crazy.

It feels silly now, in a place so crowded, and you breathe deeply. Someone points you in the direction of the kitchen after multiple attempts at asking and you miss the light chaos of throwing up outside the Stolls’ dorm with your best friend.

You grab a beer, using the table edge to pop the cap off, and it helps to ease the tightness in your chest at how unfamiliar this all is. You’re not sure you could even find the restroom, let alone a singular person.

Pushing back into the bulk of the party, you vow to leave if you don’t find him before you finish your beer. There’s a project you have to start looking into for next semester that could be a good use of time tonight.

If anyone tried to convince you that most of campus was here, you’d be willing to believe them. A drink raised in Lee’s direction, a nod to Ethan from last years’ stats class, a half-hearted smile at Rachel, who raises an eyebrow at you like she knows something no one else does.

And maybe she does, because you turn away from her to find Luke just feet away, gesturing animatedly to the guy next to him. There’s a beer in his hand and a hat on his head and his phone number so deeply etched in your mind since last night that you hardly think about it until you’re standing next to him again, drink placed on a table somewhere along the way.

“Hi,” he smiles and his scar shifts with it. He turns to the guy from before. “We’ll catch up later, man.”

“Have I ever told you that I hate that fucking hat?”

“I sort of got that when you threw it across the room.” His lips wrap around the rim of his bottle and you think you can be normal about it, go back to the way things were, until he smirks just slightly and you know you can’t.

“You’re such a sore loser, Castellan,” you mutter as you push yourself up to snatch it from his head. He doesn’t comment, lets your fingers brush through his curls until they’re a complete mess instead of compacted. He glances down at the cap in your hand and mutters, “And what is your genius plan for my hat?”

It’s a really fucking good question. Short of getting it off his head, you didn’t know what you were going to do. It’s one thing to throw it across an empty room in the dark, another thing entirely to abandon it to a frat party. So you choose the next best thing - placing it on your own head and daring him to question it.

“I guess that can work,” Luke says and it sounds like a promise soaked in laughter.

Neither of you find it as funny when he has to tip the visor upwards to kiss you.

#luke castellan #luke castellan x reader #percy jackson and the olympians #luke castellan x you #🖊️ abi writes…

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cherry-leclerc · 7 months

Text

forever be ☆ cl16

genre: porn with slight plot, humor, blind date trope, longing, age gap (6 years)

word count: 10.8k

Foolishly, you find yourself being dragged into an unwanted blind date. Again. Lucky for you, so is a special someone.

nsfw warnings under the cut!

18+... m!receiving, penetrative sex, appearance of tit foreplay and slight fingering, a bit of biting and crying (??)

inspired by this and this !

Blind dates were never something you ever thought you would consider. They never made much sense. Why would you put yourself in an uncomfortable position, and then what? You don’t like them and it doesn’t work out?

“Whole lot of bullshit if you ask me.” Kika swears as she tosses her brown locks over her shoulder. You’ve known each other for a few years, but quickly became as close as sisters during all the late night shoots you would have together.

“You can’t be single forever,” she says as you roll your eyes. Ever since you broke up with your last boyfriend, she’s been playing matchmaker. It hasn’t quite worked out.

He’s too vain.

Rude to waiters, no thank you.

He brought his mom to the date!

There was always something wrong and she knew it was only a matter of time before you completely blocked her advice. That is until her boyfriend, Pierre, told her he knew just the right person for you.

“Yikes, don’t put out any bad juju.” Theatrically, you make a cross with your two index fingers. She lets out a light giggle as she throws a pillow in your direction. You yelp as it hits your head.

“Just one more, okay? If it doesn’t work out then we can be done with all of this and have it your way.”

“Threatening me, now?” You wiggle your eyebrows. “One more.”

The following week Kika confirms your date over brunch. He’s nice. Very handsome.

Sipping on your iced tea you nod. “I mean as long as he doesn’t ask me if I can help him win an ex-girlfriend back…”

“It happened one time.”

Later that night for some reason you grow nervous as you get closer to your date. Palms get slightly sweaty and you hurriedly wipe away on your dress. “What the…” You’ve never been nervous before a blind date, why would you? Deep down you knew things like this never worked out, but why now?

“Here is fine!” Handing over some cash to the cab driver, you climb out as you make your way over to the dimly lit restaurant. Okay. A tad bit too romantic. Taking in a deep breath, you walk in.

You’re quickly reminded why you hate stuff like this. You have no clue as to how your date looks and you’re left glancing around like a lost puppy. Kika had mentioned that he would be wearing something that would make it obvious. Scanning the room you search and everything looks quite normal.

Except for the man who sits with black sunglasses.

“Charles?” He nods as he stands up to greet you with a kiss on the cheek. Startled, you pull back a bit.

“Shit, sorry. Habits.” A nervous laugh is released as you smile and he pulls out your chair to sit.

“It’s okay, I’m not too used to all this European mannerism…” The shy smile that is sprawled on your lips has him almost blushing. You were beautiful. When Pierre had first mentioned his and Kika’s plan, he almost wanted to boot the idea right away. Nothing good ever came out of all this.

She’s super sweet! I’ve met her a couple of times and she’s really down to earth.

But she’s a model? Tell me what model has ever been like that.

Kika slightly punches Charles’ shoulder as he winces. Sorry, he mutters.

Just trust us.

“Oh. You’re not from here?” You shake your head as your eyes scan the menu sitting right in front of you. You had barely met the guy, but his burning gaze was too much.

“No, but I moved here a year ago for work…Still catches me off guard at times.” He makes a mental note of the way you bit your cheek before you look up at him. He gulps.

“I’m sure you’ll get used to it soon enough.”

It surprises you how much he actually listens. It also surprises you even more that you actually enjoy hearing him talk.

“Sorry if Pierre and Kika dragged you into all of this. I just…” He clears his throat before playing with the napkin on his lap. “I had a tough break up a few months ago and he’s been trying to get me to meet new people.”

Not what a girl wants to hear on a first date, but you would be a complete hypocrite if you judged him for it. “Don’t worry, they didn’t. I also went through a break up a few months back.”

He almost wants to laugh. Nice try. Who in their right mind would break up with someone as pretty as you? Long lashes fan your face as you take a bite of your raspberry pastry. The way your plump lips pressed together as you enjoy its taste.

“I guess we’ll understand each other more than I anticipated.”

“How was it?” You pull the phone far away from your face as you put it on speaker. Walking towards the refrigerator you take out a plate of fruit. You hum.

“It was alright.” The Portuguese model gasps as she switches to FaceTime. Picking up, you lean against the counter.

“You like him!” Choking on a blueberry you take a step back as if her words stung. Do not! But there’s no use. “Yes, you do! After every other date you would already have a reason ready as to why you couldn’t see them anymore, but look! Oh my God. You do have a heart!”

Frowning, you munch on a strawberry. “I’ve always had a heart.”

Kika lets out a slight pout as she nods apologetically. “I was kidding, of course you do. It’s just that this is the first guy you might actually like after that jerk you luckily now call your ex-boyfriend.” You snort. Kika giggles at the sound before she lays her phone against a pillow. “I just want you to finally meet someone who would actually fit your standards. It’s what you deserve.”

“Well, let’s just not get too ahead of ourselves.”

“10 minute break, darling.”

Smiling sweetly, you make your way over to your trailer before you flop down onto the couch. You lay there silently for a few minutes before you actually grab your phone.

Hey. It’s Charles.

Your heart flips as you think of a response.

Hi!

Good enough. Three dots pop up before they disappear.

I was wondering if you wanted to grab dinner later? 9pm if that fits with your schedule.

You smile as you tuck your hair behind your ear. See you then.

As soon as he sees you skipping down the stairs to him, he immediately feels better about feeling more excited to see you. The way you smile ear to ear when he hands you a colorful bouquet of flowers makes him thankful for listening to Kika’s advice. She likes carnations! Not roses.

“They’re so pretty! Thank you, Charles.” Even with heels you have to tippy toe to press a warm kiss against his stubble. Stepping back you look up with sparkling eyes. “Getting better with this whole ‘mwah’ thing, right?” He chuckles as he opens the passenger door for you.

“Totally.”

As he sits in front of you ordering for both of you, you take the time to notice everything about him. His lashes, his freckles, his pink lips, his dimples, his eyes. You pray that you don’t come off as a creep, but Charles was perfect.

The waiter leaves and he turns to you with a grin. “How was work?” You’re a bit taken back by his question. It’s the most decent one out there, but not even your ex-boyfriend cared enough to ask.

You clear your throat. “Very well. Thank you for asking.”

He nods before saying, “I never asked how old you were…I mean you moved here all alone, I would imagine you’re at least 22?” A slight panicked look crosses his features. You giggle.

“Something like that. I’m 20.” He lets out a breath of relief before taking a sip of red wine. “What about you?”

“I recently turned 26.”

Older. Wiser. You could work with it.

You’re both sharing a plate of tiramisu when he asks, “Would you like to go to one of my races?”

“Oh. Where?” You wish you could jump at the opportunity. I mean, if he’s asking if it's because he wanted you there, how could you say no? But you were flooded with upcoming photoshoots.

“Texas.”

Now you were very interested. Green eyes stare back at you as he waits for a response, but then he shakes his head in a shy manner. “You’re probably busy. It’s okay-”

“I could make it work.” Pearly whites shine back at him. “I’ll make it work. I promise.”

You and Charles spend the few days together before he flies off to Texas. You learn very quickly that he is terrified of snakes.

“Ow!”

You had both gone hiking and you were too busy admiring his glistening abs to notice the snake slithering right in front of you both. That is, until Charles shrieked and jumped onto your back. Unfortunately, you weren’t as strong as him.

He quickly rises up and he lifts you up from the floor and starts brushing the dirt off you. He immediately stops when he touches your ass.

“It’s just a little snake, Charles,” you groan as he nods to himself. Of course, he squeaks, but he still hides behind your delicate figure. You want to hurl over laughing but you would hate to make him feel as if you’re teasing his phobia. “It’s probably harmless…”

Just then you turn to the snake and see it making its way to you quickly. You squeal as you jump onto his back. “Go, go, go!” Gripping onto your legs, he starts running down the hill. Once you reach the bottom - which wasn’t that difficult since you had barely started your hike - he sets you down as he huffs. You giggle.

“Oh my God! That was so much fun!”

“No!” He slightly glares as you shut up. “Not fun at all.”

You bite your lip as you try your best to refrain from laughing. “Of course. Not fun at all.”

After Charles’ worst nightmare, you both decide to go back to his flat to cook some dinner after he bragged how he was a top chef.

“I don’t know,” you murmur, “Smells burned.”

Walking over to you he takes a look. “It’s fine! It’s a part of the process, amour.” A skeptical look stares back at him as he shoots a thumbs up and you listen regardless.

Taking a seat on his dining room table, you say a quick thank you when he hands you a plate. It looks pretty delicious, you’ll admit it, but you still had your suspicions. Taking a bite you quickly feel yourself wanting to spit it out, but you urge yourself to swallow. “Wow…Um…Really good.”

Taking a quick bite his jaw goes slack. He immediately spits it back out on a napkin. “Fuck! Oh God.” His face scrunched up as he looks to where you sit pretty, looking back at him with a little smirk. He wants nothing more than to kiss it away. “How could you even…”

“It wasn’t that bad!”

“I could handle your critics y’know-”

“It was awful.”

“What the fuck,” he wails as he shuts his eyes and throws his head back. The sight itself has you almost drooling. Part of you wishes to climb onto his lap and kiss his thick neck. This is probably the face he makes when he gets his cock sucked, you think to yourself, but quickly scold yourself. Instead you place a soft hand over his.

“Sorry. How about we order take out?”

Sitting on his cloud couch you both enjoy warm Chinese food as you watch TV. “I could go to your race,” you speak up, chop sticks twirling. He lights up.

“Are you serious?” He sets his food aside as you nod.

“It wasn’t easy, but yes. I’ll be able to go.”

He cups your face as he smiles. “You’re going to love it, oh, it’s one of the fun ones.”

Charles + Cowboys? Oh, you bet it will be.

As he walks you to your front door he brings up the idea over how you can travel with him through private jet. Have to treat you right since you fixed your schedule to come with me. Reluctantly, you agree.

“I’ll pick you up tomorrow then?”

“I’ll be ready.”

He nods as he stares at your rosy lips. Would they feel as soft as they look? Would you taste as sweet as they seem?

“I’ll see-”

His large hands grab your waist as he leans down to kiss you. You're stunned for a single moment, but when you feel his warm tongue, you immediately let go. He kisses you so desperately, it has your knees buckling. Thank God he’s holding you up with his tight grip.

Pulling away, you place your hands over his chest, chest rising up and down. You press a soft kiss against his cheek as you step out of his magnetic field.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Charles.”

The game started out innocent, cheerful even, but now?

This was war.

“You’re such a cheater! A bad one, too.” He furrows his brows as he frowns at you. Rolling your eyes, you lean against the small table that separates you both. He can’t help but stare at your chest, lingerie poking through. He has to stop himself from groaning at the sight. “Where are they, Charles?” He shakes his head.

“Je jure! Je jure! I swear I don’t have anything!”

Clicking your tongue you lean back against your seat as you let out a menacing smile. “Okay.” An uneasy feeling bubbles inside as he eyes you, slightly dubious. Alright then, he responds. The game of Uno continues as he grows more and more excited to win. Just one more card-

“What-”

“Oh. Were you looking for these?” Flashing a stack of cards towards him, his eyes grow wide. “Charles, Charles, Charles…” You wink at him, teasingly. “I’m always watching.” The rest happens in a blur and next thing he knows, you're celebrating. Standing up on the table, you sway your hips as you shimmy. He can’t help but smile, even if he lost. “Eat it and burn.” Just then the private jet enters a small wave of turbulence that causes you to fly straight into his lap. You both groan.

“Jesus.”

Blushing, you rub his head before rubbing yours, but he isn’t worried about that. He’s just trying to get over the fact that your ass presses right against him. You had to get off of him now. But the way you move against him to face him has him fluttering eyes closed. “Fuck, are you okay?” Your voice is filled with concern. Broccoli. Asparagus. Cabbage. Broccoli. Asparagus. Cabba-

“Oh God! I broke you!” Your warm hands against his face have him opening his eyes.

“No! You didn’t. It’s just that…I’m trying to get my mind off of…” You’re nodding, urging him to continue as you comb your fingers through his hair. It feels so nice.

“Off of what?”

He lets out a shaky breath as his hands slide down to your waist. A warm sensation enters your lower belly with his touch. “You.”

“Me? Wha- oh.” You feel him now. How hard he is under you. The way his grip turns more firm as he tries his best to keep his eyes open. “Oh Go- I’m gonna get up now-”

“Wait.” His warm hands push you deeper against him. “Just a minute. Please.”

Nodding, you stay quiet, him having his eyes closed as he falls into a pattern of inhaling and exhaling as if it was the most difficult thing to do. For him, it sure did seem like it. And he just looked so handsome. Eyes closed, head thrown back, pink lips turning slightly red from the occasional times he would bite down. So, it made perfect sense the moment you leaned up to kiss his throat.

“You’re gonna be the death of me.”

“What happened next?” Kika squeals as she claps her hands in delight. You had arrived a few hours ago and somehow already made your way to your best friend.

“This is a bit too much even for me, but what happened next?”

And Pierre.

There was a bit of hesitation in your voice when you say, “Nothing.” The couple share a small glance before humming suspiciously. All of a sudden, your skin grows warm. “I’m being serious, nothing did! The flight attendant interrupted, letting us know we were about to land. If anything, we got scolded.”

“Ha! He got - what do you call it again - blue balled!”

“Pierre!”

“Qu'est-ce que j'ai dis!”

Raising a single hand, you brush him off, as if his words didn’t matter. “It’s fine. But please…Can we just never mention this like, ever.” They both shake your hand before shooting a thumbs up. “Great.”

You continue catching up about other business. Pierre’s trouble with his car, Kika’s studies, your upcoming photoshoot with Dior. Everyone is so deep into the conversation that they don’t notice when Charles enters the rooms. He comes to a halt, a clear indication that he was surprised by their visit. “What are you guys doing here?”

Kika smiles. “Oh, you know. Catching up.” He nods, eyes shifting to his best friend. His brows furrowed with concern.

“Is he okay?”

But he really wasn’t. Pierre’s lips were tugging a teasing smile, face turning light red from how hard he was trying to suppress his words. If they were in a cartoon, fumes would be rushing out of his ears. The Portugues giggled nervously. “Of course he is!” She stands up in a hurry before grabbing his hand, already dragging him towards the exit. “We should get going though! See you guys later for dinner!”

As soon as they leave, he kisses your forehead. “Hey.”

“Hey. How was your meeting?”

He sighs as he takes a seat next to you. “Same old, same old. I don’t really want to talk about it, if that’s okay.” No problem, you respond with a sympathetic smile. “I think I’m going to shower before we leave.”

Sitting on the bed, you weigh your options. Risky, you hum as you bite down on your lip. Really risky. Without sparing a second thought, you jump up as you swing your dress off, leaving you just in your panties and bra. Walking to the bathroom, you can’t help but sneak a peek in the nearby mirror. Trying your best to raise up some confidence, you apply some lipstick, tussle your hair a bit, pinch your cheeks for that natural blush. Giddy with excitement, you find yourself falling into little twirls.

“Hey, what do you think about– fuck.”

“Ah!” Dropping to the ground, you crawl like a little crab, rushing to hide behind the bed. “Close your eyes! This is–close your eyes!”

“Okay! They’re closed, they’re closed, don’t worry.” His voice is strained, you could tell. Your confidence is long gone as you climb underneath the covers. Part if you wants to rush out the door and never look back. That seemed like a pretty good idea. “Are you–can I…”

“Yes.” Opening his eyes, he finds you wrapped up with the white duvet, only your eyes peeking out. While he’s trying his best to get your body off of his head, your eyes wander his wet frame, towel wrapped around his waist. “Umm…I-I am so sorry you saw any of that…I…”

Making his way closer, your heart thumps against your chest as a warning. Nope. Nope. Nope. “I should apologize, too. I’m sorry for barging in on you, I should’ve made sure.”

“Apology accepted! Long forgotten!” Twisting the bed sheets, you wince. “Would you mind handing me my dress?”

“Your um- your dress. Yes.” He picks up your piece of clothing that lies at the foot of the bed as he hands it to you, leaving enough space for you not to get too uncomfortable. Also, enough for him to remind himself to not do something he might regret. “Thank you,” you softly say. Heat rises up to your cheeks. “Could you please…” You spin a small finger as he chokes. Right, he yelps. He can hear the commotion you cause in an attempt to slip on your dress as fast as possibly. Tumbling, you stand up to grab your heels. “I’ll wait outside for you to change. I’m ready whenever you are.”

Skipping out, he doesn’t even have a chance to respond before the door slams shut.

“Oh, you have got to be kidding me. How am I supposed to see him now and not bring this up?”

Grabbing Pierre’s collar, you tug him closer, eyes burning with a subtle threat. “Listen here, old man. You won’t say a word if you know what is good for you.” Blue eyes go wide as he peeps over to Kika who only shrugs.

“Not a word,” he confirms as you let go.

Dinner was…tense. But that was only between you and the Monegasque.

“Steak,” you both say as the waiter nods. “You know what…I think I’ll just do a salad.” Charles clicks his tongue.

“You want the steak, so you should get it. I’ll get the salad.”

“No, well, now I want the salad. Not the steak.”

“You were just drooling over the steak, just get it.”

You glare as you close your menu. “I want the salad.”

“Excuse them,” Kika apologizes as Pierre sits there in amusement, soaking in the show that sits right in front of them.

“No problem,” the waiter beams. “Couple’s bicker all the time.”

“They’re not-”

“You get the steak. I’ll get the salad.”

“No, you get the steak and I’ll get th-”

“You do know we’re a restaurant and we’re not limited to one piece of meat, right? How about I put you both down for the steak?” Opening your mouth, the waiter smiles before hurrying off. “Be back in a jiffy!”

“I have a feeling she might spit in your food.”

“Shut up, Pierre,” Kika hisses. “Though you should start agreeing on what dessert you guys might want if it takes you this long.”

After dinner you were ready to go back and knock out. Just forget about your humiliating day. And that would have been the case if it weren’t for a little someone who wanted to go-

“Golfing! We should go golfing!” The Frenchman grins. “It’ll be fun!”

“Honey, I don’t think they want to. How about we raincheck?” Kika pats his shoulder as she gives him a small peck. He groans.

“Another day, mate. I’m sure this pretty girl wants to get some sleep,” Charles laughs as he signals to where you yawn. This wakes you up though as you scowl.

“I don’t, actually. I wanna go.” Raising his brow he asks, Are you sure? If you’re tired that’s fine, we can go back. “You can go back to the hotel if you want, but I’m staying.” Grabbing Kika’s hand, you both strut away, already heading towards the black SUV.

“What’s wrong with her?” he mutters as he runs his hands through his hair.

“I don’t know, man, what is wrong?”

Confusion crosses the green eyed boy's eyes as he tilts his head a bit. “You know something I don’t?”

“I mean I wouldn’t say it like that, but-”

“Hello? Are you guys coming or what?” The Portuguese yodels as she pokes her head out the window. Her eyes are sending a warning to her boyfriend. Patting Charles' shoulder, he runs towards the car.

“Come one, C. It’ll be fun.”

It was not fun.

“Let me show you,” he offers when you swing the club for the 5th time, chipping grass and dirt along the way. You growl a low, It’s fine. I got it. He squeaks when you swing too far back and hit his shin.

“Are you okay?” you whisper as he whines. I’m okay. Can I just show you? “Yes, please.” Standing behind you, he grabs your arms as he gives you advice and demonstrates with you. For a moment you stop listening but the playful grins that your friends wear is enough for you to pull away from his touch, so suddenly, he jumps back a bit. “I think I got it now. Thank you.”

“Very well then.” Making his way over to Kika and Pierre, they all stand with observing eyes. Standing still. Just waiting. Any minute now-

“Would you mind going further into the golf course to see where my ball lands?” You’re not quite sure why or who you’re asking, but as soon as Pierre agrees and starts to make his way over you shout out a quick, “Not you! Uhhh…Charles, could you do it pretty please?” His heart squeezes with your puppy eyes. Y-y-yeah, he mumbles as he jogs deeper into the open area, shooting you a thumbs up as you let out a breath of relief.

“He won’t bite, you know that, right?” Kika giggles when you poke your tongue out. Turning your attention, you push your hips slightly back, knees slightly bent, too. Practicing a few swings, you narrow your eyes towards the flag that points out the cup. Licking your lips, you swing as you hear a quick click with the sudden contact. You can’t tell if it was good, but it looked good enough to you. “Did you guys see that?” Jumping up and down you run towards your best friend as you hug her as if you just won a Nobel Prize.

“That was so good!”

“I was just one with the ball–I felt it in my bones-”

The engine of the golf cart has you both spinning around to where you see Pierre driving to the middle of the field. You squint your eyes. “What is that?” Kika murmurs, grabbing your hands as she leans forwards as if that could help her see clearer.

“Not sure. Is it a hill? It wasn’t there befo…” The figure suddenly angles themselves to their elbows. “Holy shit! It’s Charles!” Squealing, you rush to the second golf cart, immediately pressing on the gas as if your life depended on it. You’re forgetting me! Sharply pressing the brakes, Kika rushes in as she taps your thighs, signaling you to go. As soon as you make it there, you could tell; it’s bad. Blood oozes out of his nose as he swats his friends hand away when he presses tissues against his face. “Oh my God.” Kneeling down beside him, you cradle his face, gingerly.

“I’m okay,” he groans as he brushes his fingers against your hip. “It’s no big deal.”

Your eyes look almost as if you’ve gone crazy, when you shriek, “No big deal? This is–” Blood drips onto your hand as you grow a bit faint. “...not okay.”

“Maybe not now, but I will be-”

“Woah there,” Kika shrieks as your body goes limp. “She’s gone.”

“What?”

“Cool! I’ve never heard of a dead body on a golf course before!”

“She’s not dead, dickhead, she only fainted.” Kika rolls her eyes as she brushes your hair out of your face. You’re sprawled out on the grass, as if it was your wake. “Charles, quick. Try and wake her up.”

The Monegasque winces, rubbing his nose as he crawls his way over to you. “I…Umm…” Give her a big ‘ol kiss, Pierre hollers as Kika smacks his chest. “Sweetheart, are you okay?” He taps your cheek before rubbing a small circle. “This is getting scary - and dark. Can you hear meeee?” Groaning, you begin to rub your head and eyes as he comes to vision.

“Charles?”

He smiles. “Hey, there.” Small smile starts to make its way to your face before you deflate with fear. Looking down at you is Charles, but with dark red blood dripping all over you. Letting out a loud scream as you aim a quick punch. “Fuck me, not again!”

“Okay, good, alright. Right there.” Kika and Pierre huff as they drop you and Charles against the cool bed. It had taken lots of explaining to the country club that they weren’t in fact not trying to get away with murder, but much rather, just trying to bed good friends and drop you back at your shared hotel room. It was much harder dealing with the two of you who were completely out of it.

“Kikaaaa,” you whine as you cling onto her arm. “This is sooo nice of youuu. I really appreciated it, I doooo.” You pat her cheek before dragging your hand all over her face as you giggle. She swats you away. Anytime honey, she responds. Charles groans.

“Piereeeee. This is sooo-”

“Yes! Nice of me? No problem, it’s been a long day and it is time for me and my beautiful lady to get some rest!” Tugging Kika away, they shout a quick goodbye before they exit. Tossing over to face you, he rubs your stomach.

“How are you feeling?”

You shut your eyes. “Like hell.” He laughs as he sighs when he feels your hands slide on top of his. “What about you?”

“Like hell.” And you might be a tad bit delirious but the laugh that bubbles out of you is enough for him to forget his ringing nose. “You’re beautiful, you know that?”

Your laugh dies down as you roll over to him. “Even after I almost killed you twice today?” Small fingers softly tap against the dry blood on his nose.

“Even after that, yes.”

The next few days leading up to the Austin GP you were able to manage pushing off any rigidness that you had placed between you and Charles. Kind of.

Psst. Where are you? Peeking your head behind a stack of soft tires, you shoot your hand out to haul Kika towards you. She yelps at the sudden surprise. What the fu- “I can’t do this anymore.” She quirks a brow.

“Now you’re just making this complicated on yourself because you want to.”

“What? No! He’s making it hard on me.”

Crossing her arms she asks, “And how is he making it hard on you, if you don’t mind me asking.” You want to stomp your feet in frustration but you stop yourself when a few engineers pass by, sharing a small greeting to you both.

“He’s…too much. Have you seen him, come on, with that obnoxious cowboy hat? Or his cute little mustache?” Kika giggles at the reminder and shakes her head no.

“I have a handsome boyfriend,” she defends. You chuckle.

“Right. But…” Your mind stays put at the image of Charles and all the possibilities that lie within. It was all becoming too much, really. You clap your hands. “It’s okay! I can get over it.”

“You looked so good,” you moan around his cock. It’s a bit muffled but clear enough to have him groaning and rutting his hips harder. Choking, you squeeze your eyes shut as you grip onto his knees.

He had thought about this- dreamt about this and every time he thought he would know how to handle it and act cool. But there was no way of acting put together when you’re kneeling in prayer. “Fuck.” With a dirty smile, you grin around his cock before pulling your lips back, twirling your tongue around his pink tip and sliding your warm mouth back down. Letting out a few shaky breaths he says, “Y-y-you need to p-pull away now if you don’t w-want me t-to-''

But you’re deepthroating him so good and swallowing, causing your throat to close around him and that has his voice hitching, cutting off as he lets out one last moan before finishing in your mouth. White cum leaks the corner of your lips before you pick it up with your finger and lick it once you pull away. You giggle.

Climbing onto his lap, you sweetly kiss his face as he smiles. Kissing his red nose, you ask, “Did you like it?” The way you sound, confident, but a bit unsure, is enough for him to kiss your plump lips as if this were the most important kiss of his life. Which to him, it was.

“You’re amazing.” Blushing, you dig your face into his neck as you both sit there for a while longer. The room is quiet and calm as he falls into his own thoughts. Drawing shapes against your thigh, he clears his throat. “Why were you distancing yourself before?” He bites back a smile when he feels you lick his neck.

“I wasn’t pulling away…” His eyes twinkle in response. You sigh. “I was…embarrassed.” His face grows soft as he asks, Why? Looking down to where his fingers trace your lap, you start. “The first day at the hotel - when we got here - I came up with a dumb idea.” The way he’s looking at you has you nervously chuckling. “I was going to surprise you in the shower. That’s why I had stripped down and then you walked out and… I wanted to die.”

He’s laughing now as you smack his chest defensively. “I missed out on that? Noooo!” He wails as he throws his head back. The view takes you back to the first time he cooked for you and did the exact same thing.

You can now confirm: he does close and throw his head back when he’s getting his cock sucked.

“You didn’t miss out on much,” you reassure him, biting down on your thumb, nervously, before letting go. He’s listening now, green eyes dedicated to you. “I’ve never…”

“Had sex?” His voice is pitched with shock as you shake your head.

“Dear God, no. That ship has sadly sailed, but…Never had sex with someone older than me.”

“I’m not that old,” he jokes. You narrow your eyes with humor.

“You’re not,” you agree, “But I’ve only been with guys my age. They never had much to offer, though.”

He hates the idea of you ever being with someone who wasn’t him, but he knows there is not much he can do.

But prove he’s much better.

He pecks your lips. “I’ve heard that can happen sometimes.” His voice is light, slightly stingy, and that makes you smile. “Been there too - if you can believe it. But we can take it slow. We don’t have to do anything until you’re ready.”

And you might be eager and desperate for him, but you know it would be better to hold off and get more comfortable with the idea.

“Thank you.”

“How does this make any sense?”

Your eyes flick back and forth - from Xavi to Charles, from Charles to Xavi. Part of you was almost afraid to intervene into the heated conversation.

“Yeah, we’ll bring that up to the FIA.” A heavy sigh is released as Xavi rubs his temples, eyes momentarily shut. “Let’s just stick to the bright side- we did our best.”

The Monegasque rolls his eyes, hands flinging up in response. “And yet it never seems like enough.”

“Look the issue is always something we can fix-“

“That’s the same story I’ve been told time and time again! If it were fixed then we wouldn’t be dropping from P3 straight into a DQ.” The engineer huffs, eyes empty and tired - and while you completely understand where Charles was coming from, you felt bad.

“Charles, I think…” His cold gaze catches you off guard for a moment but quickly softens up with the sound of your voice. “...I mean I understand why you’re frustrated, but I’m sure he is too. Maybe you both should just take some time to cool down and when you’re ready, then you can sit back down to come up with a proper solution.”

For a scary second he doesn’t say anything as you hear a low, grazie tesoro, from Xavi. You’re on edge but when he nods with a small smile, you let out a breath of relief that you didn’t know you were holding in.

“Do you want to stay?” Hmm, you chirp, eyes attentive. Turning on his car, he begins to back out of the parking lot. “Here in Texas. For a while longer before we fly to Mexico. Kika and Pierre are going to and I thought you might want to as well-”

“You’re not needed in Mexico already?” He shakes his head. “In that case; yes.”

Pierre had planned a whole year's trip for one single day. And every single activity was a near death experience.

“Horseback riding.”

Sharing an excited squeal, you and Kika hop up and down as Charles finishes up a quick call. The morning had started early, per Pierre’ request, but no one had really complained up until that point.

“Danny Ric recommended this farm just an hour away, but you’re with an F1 driver, we’ll make it there in 10 minutes max.”

“I’m driving,” the green eyed boy interrupts as he snatches the keys away from his best friend. “There’s no way we’ll be safe if you drive.” Sheepishly, Kika agrees. Pierre’ mouth hangs agape. Quickly, he takes the keys back.

“My agenda; I drive.”

“I can lose him! Just give me a minute!”

The drive had started out calm. Music was playing from your and Kika’ mixed playlist as you both chatted in the backseat. Charles was screeching every single second due to Pierre’s driving skills. It was great.

“Amore, they have a horse that looks like an Oreo,” Pierres announces as Kika claps with delight. “Rented that one out just for you.” It was a sweet gesture, something that even had you swooning, and all would have been fine if you weren’t running a bit late. “As long as we’re there at 2pm.”

Biting down on your lip, Charles turns back to look at you. Raising up your phone you show him.

1:20pm.

You were still 45 minutes away. There was no way. You’re about to bring it up until Charles silently hushes you. “What’s so important about a cookie looking horse?” he asks, slowly. Kika beams.

“I had one like that growing up. His name was Spot. Technically, it belonged to my grandparents but deep down we all knew it was mine. P, has been on a mission to find a clone of some sort. Kinda sweet.”

Pierre’s winks through the rear view mirror as he switches lanes. A tiny car honks as you flinch. Close one, he mutters. “And dare I say I found Spot’s twin. Reincarnation! Mon amour, you’re going to love him when we get there…”

1:25pm.

Eyes as wide as saucers, he steps on the gas so suddenly, it has you flying against the seat. You let out a scream - you think. “Pourquoi ne m'as-tu pas dit l'heure?” Charles winces.

“You should have been checking the time yourself! You’re the one driving!”

“But you’re supposed to be my GPS!”

“Non, je ne suis pas!”

The Frechman presses harder on the gas. You yelp. “Kiks, you’re one of the best friends I’ve ever had, don’t you dare forget it.”

“No, you are one of the best friends I’ve ever ha- Ah!” The Portuguese clings onto the window in an attempt to keep straight when her boyfriend switches lanes harshly. “Pierre, it’s fine! I don’t want to see my dead horse’ twin that bad.” Swiftly, he turns around as he shakes his head. Charles curses as he reaches out to keep the wheel straight.

“Listen to me Kika; you are meeting that horse.”

“Oh. I don’t feel so good.” Feeling queasy, with all the commotion and awful driving skills, you let out a whimper as you hold your head. A worried Charles turns around to caress your knee. It’s okay, baby. Do you need anything?

“Pierre, seriously, stop the bloody car.” His tone is threatening, but this doesn’t seem to stop Pierre.

“I’m sorry - I am - but we are making it there because we are making it there.” Kika is past asking and has skipped to praying in her native language, eyes squeezed shut.

“It’s fine. I’ll be fi-”

You’re cut off by police sirens, red and blue light dancing through the windows. Your eyes grow wide as you and Charles shared a panicked look. “Fuck,” Pierre murmurs. “Alright, everyone hold on. I’m gonna step on the gas.”

“You have got to be kidding me,” Charles spits out before flinging back against his seat, forced to pull away from you. You’re a mess. Pierre, Pierre, it’s not worth it to die young, you wail.

“We’re making it to that stupid horse!”

Weaving through lanes, all of you slide side to side in your seats. Pull over, a stern voice blares outside of the police car. Your stomach strings into nervous loops.

“Pierre, pull over,” Kika finally tries as the situation grows more serious.

“I can lose him! Just give me a minute!”

Speeding is nothing new to the two Formula 1 drivers, but to you and your friend it was. “I’m too young!” Kika and you screech when Pierre does a sharp turn towards the exit. A breath of relief escapes Charles' lips when he notices the cop car had lost sight of them.

Smoothly, Pierre pulls into a dusty parking lot. He grins.

“Ta-da!”

“Sweetheart, did a horse already kick you?”

Icing his newly gifted black eye, Pierre mumbles a low; “Something like that.”

Icing his newly gifted fist, Charles sarcastically replies; “Something like that.”

The little old lady smiles warmly before leading the group towards the barn. “We have many beauties for you to choose from. All friendly!”

Almost instantly, Kika spots the horse the group almost lost their lives over. “He’s beautiful!” Running over, she pets him as he licks her hand. Pierre discreetly snaps a few pictures.

“That was really sweet,” you admire. Charles scoffs. Almost dying seems sweet to you? Giggling, you playfully smack his toned chest. “Well, no. But just how hard he tried to get her here…” Kika waves at you both as she climbs onto the tall horse.

“Yeah,” he mumbles. Leading you further into the cabin, you both pet the row of horses. Behind you, Pierre yells out, Buttercup is a fan favorite!

And so, you were introduced to Buttercup. Charles' heart did a double take when a bright smile formed itself onto your lips. You were an Angel on Earth.

After going over the basics, you’re able to take Buttercup on a quick gallop around the open field. Attentive, Charles follows by foot. “Are you sure you don’t want to get on a horsy?”

“Once, when I was a little kid, I fell off one. I was lucky that it was just a pony, but I’ve been traumatized since.”

“Oh.” You try keeping a straight face but can’t help but start laughing. He frowns. “Sorry! I’m just imagining that.” Wheezing harder, you clutch your heart dramatically. He wishes to remember the sound of your laugh.

“Sweetheart! Just letting you know that no candy should be near the horses! Wouldn’t want them acting up.”

Shooting a quick thumbs up, you nod. Peacefully, you continue laughing and learning more about Charles and you love it.

Strolling over, Pierre pats Charles shoulder as they whisper to each other for a while. Trotting away just a bit, you decide to give them a bit of privacy. A few seconds later, they share a bro hug.

“Just don’t do anything stupid again,” you hear Charles warn as Pierre bobs his head. Got it.

“They have a cute little shop here so I went to go buy a few snacks, you guys want some?”

Opening a chocolate bar, he extends his arm out as a truce, brown chocolate glistening under the sun. Your stomach drops.

“Pierre, you fucking di-” Buttercup rapidly spots the candy bar and begins to gallop towards the Monegasque and Frenchman with full speed. Get out of the way, you shriek out as they both make a run for the exit.

“This place is lovely!” Kika hollers as she inches closer to the commotion. Lost, her gaze flickers to where Pierre and Charles jump over the fence, landing on mud, and you and Buttercup chasing after them. “Oh God, Pierre.”

“That’s the thing! You don’t think!”

The fight between Charles and Pierre has been going on for what seems like hours and you were starting to get tired of it.

“Charles-”

He gently pushes your hands aside before glaring back at Pierre. “What would you have done if something had happened to her, huh? Oh, you would be a dead man-”

“I think he gets it now!” Tugging on his arm, you pull him towards you. “I’m fine. It was fun.” He looks at you skeptical as you let out a light laugh. “Okay, too soon. But seriously, let’s just forget about it! Nothing happened and we still have a full day ahead of us. Let’s not let it go to waste.”

“Dirt bike riding!”

“Are you sure?” Leaning against Charles, you massage your temples at the possibility. Given, it sounds like fun, but you really weren’t looking for a broken bone.

“Always.”

“Be careful,” you say as you tap against Charles' helmet. Only a tiny part of you wanted to join, but decided not to last minute. Kika agreed to stay with you, but deep down you knew she was just as scared.

Smacking your ass, you jump as he lets out a muffled laugh underneath the black helmet. “Wouldn’t want to die without fucking you.”

Blushing, you push him away. “Go already.” A loud laugh follows as he drifts away. The sight of him wearing all black has your head spinning. Sitting down on a small table, under the shade, you take a sip of Kika’s Coca-Cola. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome?”

Everything carries on smoothly. A few close calls, but safe nonetheless. “I didn’t know they were so good at this,” you ponder, gaze keeping up with the 26 year old.

“Me either. Honestly - definitely - surprised.” A pink tint fans itself on her cheeks as Pierre bikes by. “I love it.”

“Get a room.” But you aren’t complaining either. This is definitely a sweet sight. Wanna try? Charles calls out. “No, thank you.”

Biking closer, he opens up his visor, green eyes shining through. “I’ll keep you safe,” he tries. You shake your head. “As if you’re my most prized possession. Newsflash: you are.”

He’s subtle with it, but it’s enough for you to feel as if you’re floating. You just had to be. “Very sweet, but I’m okay.” Leaning close, you kiss his helmet before slamming it shut.

“Suit yourself, chérie.” You feel as if you’re stumbling over yourself as you watch him glide away. You have to remind yourself that people are around and that there is no room for shenanigans. Dirt crunches underneath your feet as you twirl to face the Portuguese.

“I think I’m in love.” Fanning your face, you let out a breath. She chokes.

“In lo- excuse me, what?” Shrugging your shoulders, you spin the yellow straw that dips inside your drink.

“I said I think. Quit acting as if I just said my first words.” Grabbing you by your shoulders, she starts to shake you back and forth. Might as well be! There’s no way ‘you think’! When it comes to you, you always know. Her point has you thinking about your confession. Because she’s right.

You are in love.

What’s there not to love? He’s kind, caring, intelligent, funny, clumsy in a cute manner, he looks out for you (especially when Pierre is near the premises). If anything, it would be impossible not you. Looking up, you see him on the side of the dusty hill, chatting with what looks like to be fans. And he’s just so sweet with them, it only makes you more sure of your sudden knowledge.

“He can’t know. Not yet.”

The bike's loud engine is what snaps you out of your thoughts. Pierre waves as he follows after Charles. “That was awesome! Amour, did you see me-” Amidst of his words, he didn’t pay much attention when he accidentally stepped on the pedal a tad bit too hard, causing him to glide closer to Charles’ motorbike. A loud clash follows as they skid on the dirt, dust causing them to be untraceable for a moment, only bickering coming through.

Hurriedly, you both run over as you wave your hand and cough. Slowly, the dirt settles down, allowing you to see Charles and Pierre on top of one another. They both groan in pain. Charles pushes the Frenchman off him.

“I should’ve known something had to happen.”

A few more ideas were thrown out by the blue eyed man but every single one got shut down. “Let’s just get something to eat,” Kika growls. Clicking your fingers, you point at her, agreeing.

And so you and your friends find yourselves in a small restaurant that looks straight out of a Western movie. “Pretty nice, I must admit,” you congratulate. Smirking, Pierre slaps the back of Charles’ head. See? A snarl is enough for him to make a run for it. Giggling, you tippy toe to kiss his cheek. “Does your boo boo still hurt, my poor baby?” Brushing your fingers against his thigh, he flinches.

“Yes, actually, it does. I hate bruises.” Snorting, you throw your head back. He drags you closer to his chest, making you trip over your cowboy boots that he just bought for you. “A kiss might make me forget about the pain though, little lady.” He pretends to tip an imaginary hat.

“Little lady?”

“Bonita? Linda?” Curiously, you quirk a brow. “Carlos…” he explains as you respond with an, Ohhh. Tapping his chest, you slide your fingers through his hair.

“A kiss you say?”

He smiles. “Or something else, really.” Heat pools in between your legs as you try your best to suppress your moans. But the way he’s looking down at you has you almost running away. You kiss his cheek, lips lingering for a single moment. The hand that presses against his chest is able to identify the way his heart speeds up.

“Better?”

“I was thinking more here,” he points to his lips, “But that was just as good.” Walking away, you start making your way to where Pierre and Kika sat.

“You never said where.” His eyes follow you, flickering down to your ass, Levi denim short pressed up against you. It should be illegal to look this good.

“Ahem.” Pulling his attention away, he looks into Kika’s eyes, who scowls back up at him. Shyly, he takes a seat.

Dinner flew by. Laughter and stories being heard by any bypasser, but it really didn’t matter to any of you.

“I think his visor broke!” Pierre wheezes as he clings onto the table. Charles shoots a cold glare.

“You broke it with your foot when you kicked me.” This only seems to make his friend laugh harder. The corner of Charles’ mouth slightly lifts up. You continue talking about your day when an older man makes his way to your booth.

“You guys interested in dancing?”

“Hey, man, that’s my girlfriend,” Pierre responds as he looks up at the man. Who does he think he is? he mouths to the rest of you.

“Oh, I don’t mean it like that. Line dancing. Anyone who wants to join is welcome to.” Extending his hands towards Pierre, he introduces himself. “Ben. I’m the owner of the restaurant.” Pierre lets out a nervous laugh.

“Oh. My bad.” Turning to Kika he says, “You want to?” She doesn’t even bother looking at him as she smiles at the older man.

“Yes, of course! She pinches your hips, you yelp in surprise. “You in?” Tight lipped, you smile and nod. You both look over to the F1 drivers. Charles shakes his head.

“Count me out.”

Pierre nods. “Yeah, me too.”

Sticking her tongue out, Kika grabs your hand. “Okay, losers.” Walking to the crowded dance floor, she jumps up and down. Her excitement eases you as you smile ear to ear. “You know how to line dance?” You nod.

“My grandpa taught me when I was 5.” Cackling, she high fives you as the music starts. You furrow your brows. “Country Girl?” Kika lets out a satisfied sigh..

“Ahhh. Luke Bryan at his finest.” Copying others steps, you both giggle as you stumble a bit at the beginning. Peeking over at the boys, she frowns. “They’re not even looking.” You wave her off.

“It doesn’t matter.” But you can tell she’s itching for a reaction from Pierre. “You flirt,” you tease as you slap her hip. She rolls her eyes, playfully. Pulling her closer, you swing your hands over her shoulders. She tilts her head in confusion. “God gave us hips and an ass for a reason.” Wickedly, she smiles as she lets loose.

Following the beat, you sway your hips before letting go of one another and spinning like the most seductive ballerinas that ever existed. Running a hand through your hair, you begin to drop to the floor, wide eyes staring up at your best friends who just laughs. Gliding back up, your hands dance across her legs.

“Alright, quit it before I cheat on my boyfriend!” You let out a laugh. “And before Charles kills me.”

“And why would he do that?”

She shrugs her shoulders, tossing her locks over her shoulder. “He looks like wants to kill me and fuck you.” Shocked at her words, you turn to the table and sure enough, Charles’ bruning gaze is directed only towards you. As if no one else existed. Meanwhile, Pierre's mouth is hung wide open. You clear your throat.

“Look at Pierre,” you mumble, trying to get the image of Charles out of your mind. She blushes, sending a kiss over to her boyfriend who smiles suggestively. You shudder. “Gross.” She smacks your cheek softly.

The song ends and you almost wish you could stay dancing forever so there would be no room to see Charles after that. Standing up, he pulls your chair out as you quietly thank him. “Shy now?” His voice is strained, as if he’s trying his best to simply just talk to you, but also filled with tease. You hum.

“Nope.” Your breath hitches when his hand slides onto your thighs. He clicks his tongue.

“I think you might be.” His hand slides swiftly in between your legs. “Just a tiny bit.”

“I-I’m not-”

“Hey,” a voice kills the moment. Charles' attention flickers to the man that stands in front of you. You smile. “Oh, I saw you dancing…”

“And?” Charles cuts him off, but the guy only ignores him.

“Jaden.” He extends his hand out for you to shake. Hesitantly, you do. “I was wondering if I could get your number?”

Stuttering you say, “U-um. I-I…” Looking over at Kika, you beg for help as she raises her brows. No thank you, she mouths. Pierre watched it all unfold as if this were a movie. Awkwardly, you clear your throat. “I’m seeing someone actually, sorry.”

The blond clicks his tongue, running his hand through his jaw. “That’s the thing. He doesn’t have to know. He won’t mind.” Charles can’t help but scoff and stand up to his full height.

“Oh, I think he’ll mind.” It’s almost as if Jaden knew this would tick Charles off as he casually smirked.

“It’s you,” he says, eyes full of judgment. “I had someone else in mind.”

“Yeah, I don’t care what that might be, but you should leave.” Jaden’s eyes meet yours as he takes a seat on the now open chair.

“Merde,” Pierre whispers.

“What do you say we get out of here? I know a hotel nearby.”

Frowning at his words you say, “What’s wrong with you?” You’re caught by surprise when Charles reaches down to drag him by the collar.

“Jaden, is it? I think it’s best if you leave. She’s not interested.”

“Dude, don’t take it personal. Just a quick taste and she’s all yo-” He doesn’t have a chance to finish his sentence when the Monegasque sends a hard punch. He groans, crashing on top of the table.

“Don’t you dare talk about her at all,” he sourly threatens. Turning back to where you stand with Kika and Pierre, he’s about to check up on you, but that’s before he’s yanked back and hit straight in the ribs. Huffing, Jaden stands over him as he grins.

“Too hard on you?”

Standing up, Charles rolls up his sleeves. “Nope.” Which is how he landed himself in a fiery fight with some wannabe GoldenDoodle.

“Pierre! Do something!”

“Y-you’re right!” Jumping in, he tries to pry Charles off as they tumble around. Get off me, Charles mutters. The Frenchman immediately lets go. “H-he said to get off hi-”

“Yeah, I heard.” Desperately, you try yelling for the Monegasque, but it’s almost as if he can’t hear you. Ben, the owner, runs over.

“Darling, if they don’t stop I’m going to have to call the cops.”

“No!” But the moment you see dark blood flowing out of Charles’ lip, you panic. “Fine! Yes! Call them, but hurry, please!”

After what seems like an eternity, when really it was only 5 minutes, the cops show up. “Let go and put your hands where I can see them!” This seems to get their attention as they harshly let go of one another. You let out a breath of relief, Kika hugging your arm. Cuffing them up, they start pulling them towards the exit, boos filling up the small restaurant. Running after them, you tap on the cops shoulder.

“Let him go, please! He was only defending me!” You’re close to crying and this makes Charles feel guilty. It’s okay. I’ll be fine! Just meet me at the police station. Getting closer, Pierre tries to drag you away as you cry. The policeman stops for a moment.

“You…” Pierre looked around confused before pointing at himself. Me? Calling for backup, a new officer comes and cuffs the Frenchman.

“Woah, woah, hey there. What’s this for?” Kika asks, jogging in order to keep up. “Why is he being arrested?”

The grouchy man scowls. “Speeding on a freeway. Sound familiar?”

“It’s alright, Kika! Just meet us in the police station!”

“He was driving fast to fulfill my wish, he was only being sweet! And I know he was acting irresponsible, but I swear he won’t do it again.”

Nodding, you push her aside. “And Charles was just protecting me from that dick! Please, he won’t do i-it a-a-again…”

The little old lady behind the desk with a bored expression hums. It’s quiet for a few minutes before she stamps the two papers right in front of her. You both sigh. “Alright. I’ll let them go. But only because I like you both.”

Running up to the guys, you throw yourself on the Monegasque as he lets out a groan in pain. Cradling his face, you press kiss after kiss. “I'm” - kiss - “so” - kiss - “glad” - kiss - “you’re” - kiss - “out.” Smiling, he tucks a stand of hair behind your ear.

“This is the land of the free, right?” Your glare up at him, biting back a smile. Not funny at all, you pout. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

Walking up to you both, holding hands, Pierre smiles. “Want me to drive us back to the hotel?”

Flinging onto the bed, you let out a few kick-spasms. “Remind me to never agree to anything Pierre says. Ever.”

Lying down next to you, he closes his eyes. “I know I give him so much crap for it, but he means no harm.” Rolling over to your side, you furrow your brows. “Never again,” he confirms. Sitting up right, you wait for him to do the same. Leaning against the headboard, he smiles softly.

“Thank you,” you begin, “For standing up for me.”

“I would do it over and over again with no hesitation.” Letting out a shaky breath, he scoots you to straddle his lap. “There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you.”

And maybe it is the heat of the moment, but soon you find yourself leaning down to kiss up. His lips are warm, the way you remember them. Your lips are home, the way he remembers them. Sliding his shirt off, you halt when you see the bruises that cover him. You let out a slight wince. “You know what? Another day when you feel better-” He pushes your hips against his as your eyes roll back with anticipation.

“I feel better already.” And then he’s kissing you again, mind trying to keep up with the way your soft hands slide up and down his chest. Long fingers pinch your shirt, tugging it off. His eyes train themselves on your tits. “You’re a fucking dream.”

Unclasping your bra, his mouth immediately wraps around your left nipple. Whining, you brush your hands against his curls. The way his tongue swirls around your sensitive bud has you pushing his face deeper to your chest. He doesn’t seem to mind, free hand going in to squeeze your other boob.

Grabbing his face, you force him to face you, both your chests heaving up and down.

“Fuck me. Please.”

Groaning, he throws his head back. Not wasting anymore time, he switches positions, sprawling you against the white bed sheets. He takes his time taking your shorts and panties off before slipping off his jeans and boxers.

The sight of his dick has you nervous for a split second, but that's cut short when you feel his fingers sliding against your walls. You squirm. “That’s it, amour. Let loose.” His large frame towers over you as he spreads your legs out even more. Almost like an instinct, your legs wrap around his waist. He kisses your forehead. “You need to let me know if you’re uncomfortable.”

“Pinky promise, just…please.”

That's all it takes. Thrusting into you, you both let out dirty, sinful moans. It takes all of him to not snap his hips, just the thought alone being too much.

“You’re so fucking worth it. Worth it all.” Clinging onto his arm, your mind is hazy with the sudden stretch. He’s big and you feel him already brushing against your g-spot. You wonder if you’ll be able to take him.

“Ch-Charles, please move,” you beg, pupils dilated. He starts off slow and you’re almost embarrassed with the way it has you reaching out for him. Begging for more. “F-feel s-s-so good inside of me.”

The way you clench around his cock has him choking on his saliva. “Yeah? Well you feel so good wrapped around me. Warm and-” The sound of his voice has your walls closing around him, even tighter. “...unreal. You can’t be real.”

He lost with the way you squirm underneath him, twisting, almost pulling away, but he keeps a firm grip. “Ch- oh God.” His speed picks up as he fucks your harder. Past boyfriends only put their needs first, but you can tell he was trying to get you to finish first. The realization made your head spin. A tight feeling enters your bottom belly.

Boys? Waste of time.

Men? He was everything.

Rubbing your clit, he admires you. Close? You open your eyes, soft pants being released, the sound of the headboard rutting against the white wall. “I-I don’t know…” He pinches his brows. You let out a shaky breath. “How should an orgasm feel?”

His eyes widen, hips continue their abuse. “You’ve never had an orgasm?” Bashfully, you let go of his burning gaze, watery eyes focused on his pulsing muscles.

“Boys…” Letting out a cry, your bite down on his bicep with the sudden brush against your g-spot. He hisses. Your mouth is open with an O as you drool all over him. You whine when he places his hand over your lower belly. You should feel some pressure here.

His voice is deep, raw and so mature. He sounds as fucked out as you feel. “Do you feel something like that, chérie?” Furiously, you nod. “Words. Use your words.”

“I-I-I do.” Those two words have him almost seeing the future. They are slow and weak, but also sure and his. In this exact moment, he swore he would have you repeating those same words, only in a different location. Teary eyes look up at him. “I feel you everywhere.”

With that you let out a scratched moan as you cum around his cock. The way you arch and squeeze around him is what makes him finish right after. Catching your breath, you look up at him with a twinkle in your eyes. He kisses your bruised out lips.

“You’re fucking perfect.”

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