#but i had such a hard time deciding which fits better to which
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Entitled To You (3.6K words)
Norstaptri x Reader
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort
Summary: An incident with Lance sends the boys into a frenzy. She just wants to do what she loves.
Warnings: Explicit depictions of r@pe, injury descriptions, panic attacks, Oscar plots a murder, Lando throws hands, Car crashes, Author doesn't know legal stuff, Head trauma and blood.
Notes: This one is a request from @Lily234566 I know this wasn't the original pairing but I was struggling to fit the Ferrari boys in there so I had to scale it back... I'm sorry and I hope you still like it! T_T
Side Note: Sorry to the Lance girlies reading this. AND obligatory message of I don't know these people and this is purely FICTION! HEAD THE TAGS! DONT LIKE THEN DONT READ!
Masterlist // Request Form // My Website // buy me a Ko-Fi
“Max!” She peeks her head into his driver's room. The bright beaming smile she receives in return after their 1-2 nearly kills her. “They want me for a media thing, apparently.” HIs smile drops into a pout. The sad puppy eyes might convince her to stay.
“Again? Don’t they know we have plans!
“No, and why would they care anyway?” She looks him up and down and whines because he’s standing in front of her with no shirt on. “Just - I’ll meet you guys back at the room. It’s something to do with being a female in F1… again.”
“I’m starting to think they have nothing else to talk about.”
She shrugs as she walks out of the hospitality, waving to Christian on her way by. The goal is to get past the Mclaren garage without seeing Lando because otherwise she is not going to the interview. His pout is worse (better?) than Max’s.
To her pleasant surprise, Laura is the one conducting the interview. “I’m sorry about this being last minute! They said they wanted you to do it with someone else next week and I offered to do it now.”
The interview passes with ease and thankfully doesn’t take long at all. The banter in-between is also entertaining.
She’s exhausted when they finish. Ready to go back to the hotel and fall into bed with her boys. Hopefully They’ve ordered food - and dessert.
The paddock is nearly empty as she makes her way through. Maybe, had she been paying more attention and not focussed on her aching body, she would’ve caught on to the footsteps behind her.
They are heavy, she assumes possibly a mechanic still packing up to continue on their way to the next circuit. That’s what she still thinks when the hand on her bicep yanks her around the corner.
If she weren’t as exhausted, then fighting would’ve been a possibility. However, that seems out of the cards as he pins her against the nearest wall. Her forehead hitting the surface hard enough to make her dizzy.
“Not so confident now, huh?”
The fuck- “Lance? What are you?-” He slams her head again and cages her body against his own. She flails, only to be slammed again. “Would you stop doing that please?”
“Not after that stupid stunt you pulled today on track.”
“You mean the one where you showed you don’t know what brakes are?-” Again, her head is sent into the hard surface. She can feel her nose starting to bleed. “Must you?!” She decided to shut up when he does it again and everything starts to go fuzzy.
His fingers dip beneath the waistband of her fireproofs. The cold evening air hits her bare skin and she panics more than before. Her head is too cloudy to fully comprehend what’s happening.
“I feel like I'm entitled to a bit of compensation after that stunt.”
“You’re entitled to nothing. You took yourself out!” She hisses through gritted teeth. Still, Lance continues to get her clothes lower. And slams her head again harder - you know - because she wasn’t disoriented enough already.
“Would you shut up?” She doesn’t say anything this time. Her mouth feels numb and her ears are ringing. Her exposed lower half is met with the bare hands of someone she doesn't want touching her.
It's - well - it hurts. He's groping at her thighs, ass, even her tits which she isn't sure how he's managing. His hands are everywhere they shouldn't be.
And then nothing.
A vague awareness of what's happening seeps through her veins and invades her senses. She tries to scream. Attempts despite the sheer pain of the snap of hips she didn't ask for.
His finger beat her to it. A hand encloses around her throat and cuts off her oxygen. The black spots dance around her vision. She wants them to stop moving; they are making her dizzy. Or was she already dizzy?
“See, it's not so bad. Don't you feel less guilty for ruining my race now?” No, she doesn't. She wasn't guilty before.
She blacks out.
~~~♡~~~
Waking up with sore limbs and a killer headache is not how she pictured this night going. She tries to yell for help, but a mere creaky rasp escapes.
When did she lose her voice? The thought makes her panic more. The sob she lets out hurts more than there is sound.
Her face and hair is sticky. At least Lance had done her the courtesy of not finishing inside of her.
Still - what the fuck even happened? The fragmented memory is trying to come back to her slowly. Each small piece remembered is another broken cry.
She can't move.
It's dark again.
~~~♡~~~
The anxiety between the three boys is certainly not something they are used to. Oscar can pinpoint the exact moment Lando started overthinking and Max had to bear hug him so he didn't pace a hole into the cement of the parking lot.
The fourth seat in their car remains empty and their messages have gone unanswered. It's getting more concerning with each passing minute.
“Max, she always responds.”
“I know Lando.”
“She always calls if she's going to be longer.”
“Lando?”
“Yes?”
“Would you feel better if we went and looked around for her?”
The Brit nods his head in a fashion that might give him whiplash. It's better seeing him feel helpful then sit helplessly. Though Oscar can't help but agree with Max's original point. that they should wait there at the car just in case since that's where they were supposed to meet.
Granted, it's only been twenty minutes. It's still long enough to be murdered.
They Methodically peer around corners and wave at the mechanics who give them skeptical looks. They were supposed to be out for post race celebrations by now.
Oscar freezes when he sees it. The human shaped lump lying on the ground. He rushes over with long strides. The closer he gets, the more familiar the person on the ground becomes.
“Max! Lando! I found her!” The other two boys come sprinting in his direction. He's on the ground trying to clear her hair from her face only for it to get stuck in the sticky substance coating her features.
“What the fuck?”
Her fireproofs are still on, but it's obvious what happened. The handprints on her neck, the blood trickling down the sides of her face. “We need to bring her to a hospital.”
Max hoists her up in his arms. Mainly because Lando is on the brink of tears and struggling to breathe through his panic. He loves deeply and with his heart on his sleeve. Oscar just hopes he can keep the Brit calm until they find more help.
“Can we at least clean her up?” Lando pleads with him. Big Hazel eyes brimming with tears.
It's always a struggle to tell him no. “We can't, not if it can help us figure out who did it.” The tears start right after that.
“So that’s what happened then? Someone really-” Oscar has to maneuver the puddle of tears that is his boyfriend into the passenger seat of their rental car. Max tosses him the keys, opting to be with her in the back and keep her comfortable.
The tricky drive to emergency is more because Oscar is too far in his own thoughts to pay attention to the traffic lights. He can hear Max moving her around, attempting to put pressure where blood still flows freely.
Oscar doesn’t bother with parking. He pulls off into some empty area and helps Max shoulder her weight inside the doors while Lando runs ahead to find help.
It’s fast after that. They take her away and start patching her up while the three of them are forced to sit in the waiting room. Oscar and Lando are left to their own devices while Max paces about on the phone with Christian.
He feels like a knife is being driven through his chest each time his mind tries to come up with what could’ve happened. Who would do something like this? Unfortunately, a lot of people. The question is more of who could’ve done it and gotten away. Someone with access to the paddock this late. Security, perhaps? Maybe even a sleazy mechanic? A driver wouldn’t make any sense… right?
“When will they let us see her?”
“When she wakes up, most likely.”
He’s not sure when he falls asleep. The exhaustion finally hit him like a truck despite his persistence. He’s awoken by Max’s constant shaking and aggressive whispering of his name.
“-She’s asking for us.”
He’s up faster than Lando when Jon threatens an ice bath. They follow the nurse down the halls with an uneasy anticipation. They creep inside the sterile room and find her staring at the wall.
Lando doesn’t hesitate to move further into the room. Always having been more in touch with his emotions then the other two boys. “Hey love, can I come closer?”
She looks at him. The bandages plastered over the sides of her head and around her face now visible to them. She returns Lando’s gaze with glassy eyes. It’s damn near shocking when she tries to pull things off her body in a desperate attempt to reach for Lando.
Lando gets to her before she can get everything off, specifically the IV, and catch her arms. Oscar and Max finally pull themselves together and manage to get her to lay back down with some coaxing.
She’s shaking violently. Her grip on Lando’s arm is sure to leave bruises. “Who - who f-found me?”
“We did, schat. We got worried when you didn’t respond.” Max drags the two chairs in the room closer and pulls Oscar down into one. Lando, against all odds, manages to wriggle his way into bed with her.
“I know who it was. I - well - does anyone else know?”
“Just Christian and us.” Oscar can feel the fight Max is putting up to not ask her more questions. The way he’s grounding himself with a hand on Oscars knee instead.
“You don’t have to tell us.” He attempts to reassure. Maybe calm her mind by giving her an option. “Just know we’re here, alright?”
“I don’t want it to be a big story. It’s already going to be since I can’t be in the car for the next four weeks. Oh fuck - everyone is gonna know-” Lando hushes her; gets her to somehow hold him tighter.
“Christian said it’s up to you, whatever happens.” Max nods at her encouragingly. “We go at your pace.”
“They did a rape kit. They’ll know who it is. It was all over so it couldn’t have been hard to get DNA - oh fuck”
Her heart rate picks up. The nurses rush in. They send her back to sleep.
~~~♡~~~
Max wants to know who it was who touched her. The rage simmering underneath her skin is almost too much to keep contained.
On the more fortunate side, they were allowed to stay since she wouldn’t let go of Lando. Then when he did have to get up, they rotated.
The doctors and nurses learned to approach her like she’s a scared animal. The heavy footsteps seem to set her off and there is now a sticky note on the door saying to tiptoe when entering. It’s endearing to see her doctors and nurses trying so hard not to startle her. But seeing as they’ve now had several incidents where she’s panicked, they are taking more caution.
Oscar and Lando have meandered away in search of food. Max opted to stay put and made the promise to bring him back cheat foods. He’s too stressed to not eat something of comfort.
Her physio is supposed to come by today with the stuff she left at the track and get an update from the doctors themselves instead of Max’s botched attempts at repeating back. It will also be nice to see her comfortable, as the one blanket that travels with her everywhere will also be dropped off.
“Max?” He tightens his hold to show he’s listening. “It’s not fair… You, Lando, and Oscar make a mistake on track and nobody does that to you. I - It wasn’t my fault.”
The thing is, Max is smarter than people give him credit for. The only incident on track was with Lance. An incident that was his own fault. “He’s at fault, not you. None of this is your fault.”
“They are going to say I was asking for it or something.”
“In those fireproofs? The only ones asking for it are me and Oscar… for obvious reasons.” He chuckles proudly at his little self compliment.
It also manages to get her to crack something of a half smile. “Are you complimenting your own ass?”
“And what if I am?”
She doesn’t eat anything despite it being sat in front of her. Soft foods are the only thing she’ll be eating. Her throat, albeit not as bad as it could've been (thank you F1), is still damaged and needs to rest as much as possible.
They had to keep her for observation due to where the head wounds had been. It’s been a rough thirty-six hours, but they are managing.
Despite the hectic situation, Max has come to learn that the female lying in the hospital bed is a better person then the rest of them. Oscar was detailing a full proof murder plan while she was telling him not to make it a bigger deal then it is. To which Oscar politely put his ten step plan with four contingencies down and told her that it’s ‘what he had coming to him’.
Max has not had to stop someone from assassinating a rival before, but Oscar seems like a reasonable guy. “Death is too good for him.”
“Mm, you’re right, I’ll just make sure he doesn’t die then and can’t see my face.”
“Or, we make his life a series of inconveniences! I feel like daddy’s money could get him good therapy. It can’t solve every minor problem.” Lando has a gleam in his eyes.
Him and Oscar start pouring over ideas once more. The girl simply shakes her head and goes back to eyeing her pudding like it’s assaulted her. “I don’t want to leave here, Max.”
“Why not? I’d assume you want to go home? Sleep in a comfortable bed?”
“Out there, they can get to us. Here is safe.”
He considers how to reassure her. Only, there is nothing he can think of. The truth is that outside of this hospital room, there is no guarantee they won’t run into trouble.
“I can’t promise that we'll never have something bad happen again. But-” He looks to the McLaren duo brainstorming ways to make the Aston Martin garage regret existing. “We’ll be there for each other. We’re here for you. When you want us and when you need us, yes?”
“Pinky swear?” She extends her pink to him.
Max accepts and curls his pinks around hers. “Pinky swear.”
~~~♡~~~
It’s not fair really, that they had to leave to go do things. Lando would prefer he at least stayed with her so she isn’t alone. Alas, they are preparing for her discharge and he had to run around getting things together for their trip back to Monaco.
He comes back to a partially opened door and smiles at the other two boys being able to get back before him. Then again, as he gets closer he can hear the angry tone. One that Max uses when he’s pissed off about something.
Lando panics and rushes inside. Only to be met with the sight of the last person he wants around right now.
Now - he wouldn’t say he’s prone to violence. Lando prefers to keep the peace when it comes to conflict unless he’s trying to piss someone off on purpose to get a reaction. This is not one of those times.
Lando’s knuckles collide with the Canadian’s jaw faster than he can fully become aware of what he’s doing. Lance stumbles backward and holds his jaw, glaring at Lando like he’s the one in the wrong here.
“Get out!”
“We were just talking-”
“I said. Get. Out.” He’s seething. The thudding in his chest becoming louder with each second Lance remains in this room.
He’s not prone to violence.
Really, he’s not.
Yet the second crack of knuckles into Lance's chin gives him some sick satisfaction. Isn’t there something about equilibrium? Can he pin this on restoring the balance or something? Regardless, he isn’t going to dent the fact that it feels good.
The nurses come running and start asking questions. Max and Oscar have to drag Lando away kicking and screaming.
Worse is when they try to tell him that there are pictures out on social media. Christian has been calling Max non-stop. Oscar has been dealing with Zak. Their relationship isn’t a secret and neither is their current location.
“They're sending us a different car to see if we can’t get out discreetly.”
“What happened with Lance, Lan? Are you alright?”
Everyone is panting. Their eyes trained on the door. “I punched him. I restored the equal-brey-um… thing.”
“Equilibrium.”
“Yeah that!”
He’s not sure how they get on the plane. He’s still amped up about the whole punching thing and running purely off adrenaline.
They’ve been sitting in silence, mulling over their options. Creating statements they can put out. It’s hectic and they keep trashing them because nothing fits.
The female has been apathetic. The last thing she wanted was for this to get out and now it has. Seemingly everything is flashing before her eyes. Her career will be gone soon enough, so what’s even the point?
“Don’t post anything. We don’t have an obligation to confirm or deny the rumors. If anything, we can say that you were just driving me to the hospital and being good friends or whatever.” She won’t look at them. Still - Lando can hear how upset she is, the waiver in her voice. “I’m going to be kicked out anyway.”
“Christian said-”
“Damn what Christian said! He knows this isn’t going to get any better and if I say who it was then Daddy’s Money is just going to pay his way through.” She's hyperventilating now. Her body collapses against her seat and Oscar makes an effort to get her to lean against him. “It’s not fair!”
lando Can’t help but share her feelings.
~~~♡~~~
She stays holed up in the Redbull garage the next weekend. The appearance is hard, people want to ask her questions. Her boys had been caught in the middle of the riptide and haven’t come back to shore yet.
At least she’s here. She’s trying her hardest to look stronger than she is. On the inside things are falling apart.
The team knows to give her space and not ask about the ordeal. She takes refuge in Max’s room when things are too much and the other drivers keep their distance.
They know it was one of them. She’d been adamant on not saying who it was, but it’s obvious there are sixteen who it could have been, given her partners insistence that none of them go near her garage for the time being.
She just wants this whole thing to blow over. She wants to lay in bed with her lovers and not flinch when they go to touch her.
She knows, however, that until she deals with things that healing can’t happen like it should. Or at least, that’s what her therapist says. The one she is now required to see.
Things get worse when she’s back in the car. Her media duties are limited so she can focus on driving and ‘listening to her body’ as her physio likes to say.
She can’t hear her body over the sound of her mind going staticy as Lance closes in on her. The catalyst for everything. She panics and ends up in the wall. Not the worst crash ever, but certainly hurts her pride more than it has already.
The thing is, it keeps happening. Even as she’s able to let her boys back in. As her podium finishes start to come back. Her fireproofs (which they’d gotten her all new ones) start to feel comfortable again and she doesn’t feel the need to be out of them the second the race is done. Still, Lance is using this to his advantage.
Finally, after he almost killed her on track (again), she’s had enough.
The trial goes better than she thought it would. Despite the money differences, Lance won’t be able to race anymore. It’s not some grand spectacle either, just an announcement like usual. It’s more the closure she needed versus the publicized drama it could have been.
She wins the next race.
“If I ever see him again, it will be too soon.”
“It’s been over a year now, Lan. I’m getting better.” There is a genuine smile on her face. The car awaits to take them back to the hotel. It was here that it happened. She almost considered not racing because of it.
“Lando got a taste of blood and now he’s feinding for it.” Max has a comforting hand around her waist. A grounding presence.
“I mean, I never threw away my murder plot…”
“You’re a genius Oscar!”
She shakes her head. It’s not like any of this has been easy. It never is. Still - her boys are here and they��ve been so patient.
“There’s her smile.” They all beam at her.
She smiles back.
#x reader#formula 1#f1 fic#f1 fanfic#fanficion#max verstappen#lando norris#oscar piastri f1#oscar piastri x reader#max verstappen x reader#max verstappen imagine#max verstappen x you#max verstappen f1#max verstappen fanfic#max verstappen x lando norris#lando norris imagine#landoscar#lando norris x reader#ln4#lando norris fanfic#lando norris x you#lando norris x y/n#lando norris x oscar piastri#oscar piastri#oscar piastri imagine#oscar piastri fanfic#oscar piastri x you#op81 fic#mv1#mv33 x reader
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I really love the "We Can't Be Friends" idea! I'm excited for the Maknae version. I will try to think of a good song to suggest since you liked doing that one so much!
For the undecided ot13 you put in the poll, what about if y/n was an actress and met some SVT members at an event and Dino mentioned (pouted) that the older guys were giving him a hard time, so you gave your number to him and said he could decide which members he would share it with, if any, when they were nice enough to him? Or if he wants to keep your number all to himself? I hope this makes sense!
Yay! I look forward to your song suggestion!! I am not quite sure how to do this so I'm going to do it 4 sections from MTL if that makes sense
ღ
First things first, Chan would probably share his number with most of the first two groups but if he had a crush on you, I could see him keeping it to himself so he could try to win you over first. I could see him being 'selfish' in this way.
Chan would give your number bc they are nice to him in general~
Wonwoo, Vernon, Jun
>> WONWOO: Especially Wonwoo, who is basically the biggest fucking Dinonaras. We are delulu if we think we are a bigger Dinonara tbh. He would've been near Chan when he pulled the "my hyungs bully me" card and would scoff because maybe the other eleven but surely not him. Chan would agree and if he noticed his friend was giving you heart eyes, he would totally push his feelings aside and set you and Wonwoo up.
>> VERNON: Honestly, they don't have that much beef besides occasional play arguments but Chan really has a soft spot for Hansol. So, after you gave Chan your number, Hansol would just give a "please bro" look which would make the younger one laugh his infamous laugh and airdrop your number.
>> JUN: I mean, who doesn't love Jun? Seventeen and Carats all have a soft spot for him and when it comes to giving your number, Chan totally would. Especially if he thought you both would be a good fit for each other.
Chan would give your number bc they'd "fight" him for it LOL
Seungcheol, Jihoon, Jeonghan
>> SEUNGCHEOL: Like Wonwoo, Seungcheol would also be near Chan when this happened and honestly his eyes would've been on you all night long. So when you gave your number to the younger member, he would give Chan a "you better share" look with him and Dino would give it to Seungcheol so quick lmao.
>> WOOZI: Jihoon wouldn't even know about the exchange between you and Chan until one of the other members had "exposed" it to Jihoon. With Jihoon it could go two ways where he would laugh about it or if he liked you, he would "jokingly" tease about lines which would make Chan fold quicker than anything LMAO
>> JEONGHAN: I can see Jeonghan pulling the freaking, "who's baby are you," card on Chan if he even hesitates to give your number to him hahaha. He'd just be like "Lee Chan, I didn't raise you like this. Give it up." I feel like if Chan told him "but I like (Y/N) though," Jeonghan would be 100% supportive and would just ask for your number to help set something up between you two. In the end, Jeonghan would have your number no matter the scenario because he's just that guy ya know?
Chan wouldn't give them your number because he found it funny.
Seungkwan, Joshua, Seokmin
>> SEUNGKWAN: Ok, so if Seungkwan didn't ask for your number, Chan might've thought about it but once Seungkwan was like "Soo... (Y/N)'s number... can I have it?" Chan decided to be a brat and would refuse to give the number. He would bring up the gift situation from years ago which would annoy the hell out of Seungkwan LMAO. They would start fighting hahaha.
>> JOSHUA: Honestly, Chan would do this just to fuck with Jisoo which would make him just scoff and roll his eyes at the youngers actions. He would remember this though. If he actually didn't give him your number and Chan needed something in the future this man would be SO over dramatic and be like: "remember when I needed (Y/N)'s number but you didn't help your hyung out?" Honestly the only time he would throw the hyung card out hahahaha.
>> SEOKMIN: Seokmin would be apart of the initial group when Chan said that he was a bully victim and he honestly laughed at what the younger one said. Chan remembered Seokmin laughing at his rizz attempt and this was his payback. Seokmin would be so pouty about which would make Chan laugh at him which would make him get so annoyed hahaha.
They would just try their hand in getting your number because
they knew Chan would be difficult about it lmfaoooo.
Mingyu, Minghao, Hoshi
>> MINGYU: Look, I said in this reaction that Mingyu fucks and is pretty confident when it comes to dating. When he heard that Chan was in charge of giving your number away he would just plan on getting it himself. If it wasn't this event, there would be another event. Since Chan's "bully victim" plan would he was sure the same speech would also work for him. If not then his face sure would not to sound too cocky or anything like that lmao
>> MINGHAO: Even though Minghao was nothing but nice to Chan, he would want to get your number more organically. He thought it was hilarious. However, if he liked you, which he did, he would want to go up to you and introduce himself and try to win you over that way. He didn't want Lee Chan to feel "pressured" or anything like that.
>> HOSHI: If Soonyoung wasn't just horanghe-ing in a corner, he would be similar to Minghao and doing his best to win you over organically. He found the whole situation silly over all though.
#wonuwrites#seventeen#svt x reader#seventeen reactions#svt fluff#jeonghan#wonwoo#hoshi#joshua#jun#s coups#woozi#dk#mingyu#minghao#seungkwan#vernon#dino#s coups x reader#jeonghan x reader#joshua x reader#jun x reader#hoshi x reader#wonwoo reaction#woozi x reader#dk x reader#mingyu x reader#minghao x reader#seungkwan x reader#vernon x reader
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#teen wolf#teen wolf ships as 'i could fix him' tropes#but i had such a hard time deciding which fits better to which#realistically just thiam can fit to at least half of these#isaac lahey#scott mccall#erica reyes#scisaac#danny mahealani#stisaac#ethan steiner#malia tate#malira#kira yukimura#vernon boyd#sterek#derek hale#petopher#chris argent#peter hale#thiam#liam dunbar#theo raeken#feel free to add your own opinion if you think they'd fit differently
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Teen Wolf as Arthurian Characters
Kira Yukimura as Morgan le Fay
#teen wolf#twedit#teen wolf edit#twgifs#kira yukimura#morgan le fay#arthurian legend#arthuriana#my gifs#mine#twarthur#ok so y'all remember when i did lydia i said that i originally had her as morgan which is due to a long thought train that takes multiple o#my rants to get but in the end we decided lady of the lake fit her better#that was also partially cause we were having kinda a hard time placing kira but i'm actually quite glad with this choice cause morgan being#a character who throughout arthurian legend is both malevolent and benevolent at different times fits really well with how kira is normally#vs her season 5 arc#TO ME#also for the colouring i was just gonna do green cause i kinda associate that with morgan but doing a kira gifset without the electric#orange just feels sooooo wrong
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going to make my own version of those "that girl" videos that used to go around on tiktok (which were basically aesthetically-styled disordered eating so far as i could tell tbh) but mine will be me eating stuff like hard-boiled eggs slathered with mustard & enjoying it with a degree of enthusiasm that viewers find off-putting. my "that girl" trait will not be yoga or drinking five gallons of water a day or even having nice hair or clear skin, it will simply be my joie de vivre or however it's spelled
#i used to eat hard boiled eggs w mustard on them all the time in college bc they had them in the vending machines#and they also had packets of mustard#and i forgot my lunch like every day lol#so that became my lunch#it's a humbling experience to eat a wholeass hard boiled egg in public with like. no knife to cut it in half btw. like you just have to#take bites and it's fine but you feel silly and inelegant#it does not help if you are very gender nonconforming at the time but like. aren't trying to be. jfhfhfjgh#<- was really bad at fitting in during college bc i had super short hair and wore men's jeans and sweaters from goodwill#all of which are actually swag things to do btw but like it doesn't feel swag at all if you like. are actually trying to fit in#and are just very bad at it#and genuinely cannot connect the dots on Why Girls Don't Want To Be Your Friend (it CAN'T just be that you're getting read as queer. right?)#(because that would be so messed up if it was because of that.)#[narrator voice: it was because of that]#anyways this is off the rails bc it was supposed to be about eggs and my love of them but#a lot of people say that college is better than high school. and for me it WAS by a lot but it still was really hard in a lot of ways#i felt deeply isolated. i went to an ag school in the middle of a midwest state and studied STEM#in high school i associated with basically only queer art kids (not a huge high school and a lot of us weren't out yet but. y'know.)#and then in college i felt very out of place#and towards the end of college i decided to try and take a stab at looking more traditionally feminine. grew out my hair#got rid of my bangs#it was fine#i definitely noticed that people treated me much nicer once i had long hair and women's clothes that actually fit me#and i was like okay yeah so i guess i just should try to pass as straight then. that seems like it'll be easier#during the pandemic i gave myself bangs again. just a lil bi girl swag yk. and then last august i got my hair cut into a real short bob#and i immediately felt so much more like myself. idk how to explain it. but i was just like not meant to be feminine in that exact way#i'm honestly still pretty feminine presenting overall but#i love the fact that if i wear my hair messy now it looks kinda boyish. and if i style it nicely it looks girly.#i feel like i have options yk. and i still don't think i get read as queer now tbh? though i'm bad at knowing these things#but i don't feel like i'm HIDING anymore#WOW THAT WAS LONG SORRY LMAO
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so, nerdy loser college boy choso *sighs* *opens legs*
a/n: just so you know, this man is gonna make you do all the hard work for a piece of that loser boy dick 😮💨 so... um so at some point around 2000 words in i realised this is way more than a hc post :3 eat it up if you will!
nerdy!choso who borderline has no friends except his gaming buddies who doesnt meet irl like ever. he doesnt like going to classes, especially this one. he doesnt need it but it's a requirement for all first years. and boy is glad it is when he sees you come in.
nerdy!choso who only listens to discussions when you're talking. suddenly he needs to put down his headphones and nod at every word you're saying. his eyes follow every gesture of your hand, every sway of your ass, every single time you fix your hair.
nerdy!choso who is starting to get a bit enamored with you, your style, your way of speaking. he loses track of time gawking at you in class from the last benches as you prettily do all the work in the class. he hates how beautifully your hair falls on your face, how nicely your clothes fit you despite being pretty modest for college. he hates how he can see the silhouette of your tits when you turn to the side. but he's too much of a gentleman to keep looking.
nerdy!choso who ends a game early when he remembers you, lying and saying that he had promised someone to meet them somewhere. the place is his bathroom and the person was you. god, you really shouldn't wear those tight jeans to class y'know? how will he continue to be a gentleman if you do?
nerdy!choso who despises groupwork but prays to dear god this class has some reason to pair you two together. he's getting so desperate to talk to you knowing damn well he too pussy to do it on his own. and the lord answers his prayers, the teacher assigns groups of three for a presentation. it's you, him and some slacking trust fund baby.
nerdy!choso who is about to combust and have a full blown panic attack when he sees you approach him after class with that smile on your face that would make the angels swoon. you're going on about distributing the work equally and what not while he is trying his fucking hardest to not accidently make eye contact with you and piss his pants : (
nerdy!choso who now has your name, your number and your email and he feels like the happiest man on earth. his hands are literally shaking as he responds to your request to call. he's overthinking every word he types.
choso: yeah i can do wednesday.
choso: i'll be okay with whatever day you want.
nerdy!choso who hops on video call and short circuits with a view of you in an oversized band tee and a brief view of your room. why did you have to be this pretty? why did you have to video call him when you couldve done the work on text? why did you have to put your hair up like that? why oh why did you have you say "choso? hey, you there?" so seductively to bring him back to the present?
nerdy!choso who gets like no work done in a 30 minute call which felt like three hours. he knew he would hardly be paying attention so decided to record the call with your consent, saying he'd need the notes you were typing out on screen only to play it back and stroke his dick to you for what might've have been the twentieth time this week. his strokes only getting faster as you say his name in that voice he imagines sounds way better moaning and screaming it instead.
nerdy!choso who, after the presentation, is on greeting terms with you when he sees you studying in the library. he sits as far away from you as he can while still being able to see you. occupying the coziest corner of the library to stare at you study right when you come up to him.
"can i join you, choso? i'm all alone and your space seems comfy" you say with a smile, "of course, i dont mean to disturb you, is saw you were on your own too, so..."
uh oh, uh oh, uh oh. god no. please no. please dont say yes. please dont be staring at her like some dumb idiot (too late) please.
"uh... yeah sure why not?" he awkwardly says as he makes room for you to keep your things. he was such an idiot for thinking he could say no to your pretty face in the first place.
nerdy!choso who is absolutely drunk on your scent. it feels way better than any alcohol he's ever had. he feels like an animal in heat when he smells your sugary perfume mixed with the styrofoam-y air conditioned smell of the library. you're gonna kill him, yknow? how is he supposed to respond to this? what is one to do when their stupid college crush sits next to them? he gives you a half smile before furiously typing away on reddit, the only place with answers for losers like him.
nerdy!choso whose hands. oh his hands. (can be i a big whore for a second?) his long hands that feel like they're the size of your face. his kempt, beautiful and trimmed nails. his lengthy fingers that seem to yearn for something more to foddle with than just the keyboard or controller. he typed as such an insane pace it made your pussy ache. he was going so fast, jesus. those hands were meant to do more than just ask "how to talk to girls" on reddit.
nerdy!choso who (on the advice of reddit) asks if you would want him to order something for you. you tell you had a frappuccino not too long ago and that it was quite sweet and filling. and he hates himself for thinking that he could give you something much sweeter and filling than that like a horny fourteen year old.
nerdy!choso who is now determined to not come off as a creep so he does his work with the focus of four adderalls. he is typing as fast as his heartbeat, not realising he got two classes worth of work done in just an hour. he looks over at you, blissfully unaware of the absolute war in his mind.
nerdy!choso who feels as though if he doesn't muster up the courage to ask you out right then and there, he'll probably be the biggest loser on the planet. (as if he wasn't already)
nerdy! pathetic! choso who stutters a million times and barely gets the job done then too. his eyes are scanning your entire being (trying his best to not gawk at your tits) for any sign of discomfort.
"so- uhh so ummm... wo-would you, like, uh... like to do this again? sometime?... i got a.. a lot of work done today, so.."
oh heavens, the sheer nervousness in his tone makes you want to pull his pants down and show him how to really get work done.
you agree with a smile, even suggesting a better, more ambient (more romantic) cafe to study in. choso's heart is about to burst and flood the fucking library with his blood the way it is beating at an alarming rate.
"umm yeah uh 5 sounds... awesome... i hope it isn't a-a bother to you?"
"no way, choso. i loved today," you offer him a smile as you gather your things, "i really like your hair, by the way"
"i like your hair too, y-y-you smell very nice", he gulps.
fuck. why did he say that? what? you smell nice? who says that? is he like ten? you can't help but giggle at the sheer embarassment on his face.
he feels as though he's gonna melt into a puddle and turn to stone and throw up all at the same time.
nerdy!choso who is the most stupidly hot guy you've ever met, you think as you go giggling back to your dorm. mental note: pick a skimpy outfit for 5pm ;)
#aniya writes ૮ ․ ․ ྀིა#my head would be in my hands#if they weren't already occupied#jjk smut#jujutsu kaisen smut#jjk x reader#jjk x y/n#jujutsu kaisen x reader#jujutsu kaisen choso#choso jjk#choso jujutsu kaisen#choso#kamo choso#choso kamo#choso x reader#jjk choso#choso smut#choso x you#choso my beloved#choso x y/n#choso x female reader#jjk ^ ~#jjk x you#jujutsu kaisen#jjk fanfic#jjk drabbles#jjk x poc!reader#choso kamo x reader
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blank canvas. (2)
after offering a painful ultimatum to finally be enough for him, things ultimately get worse as he decides between keeping you or losing you as the only resolution.
pairings. ryōmen sukuna, fem!reader
genre. florist x tattoo artist au, mild angst, opposites attract
tags/warnings. strong language, defloration (kinda), explicit smut, undertones of manipulation and gaslighting, toxic relationship, undertones of cheating
notes. 11.2k wc! thanks for the love on bc1, i didn't expect it to gain traction at all but tyty. last part will come soon, but that will be the final chapter to this mini-series.
part 1 | part 3
The ride back home was uncomfortable.
It wasn’t because you had promised to give yourself to him that night, but rather because his uncharacteristic silence was not what you had expected after delivering your ultimatum. You already proposed a wonderful solution to his needs, so why was he acting like you were the one being ridiculous? This was why you hated it whenever Sukuna chose silence over open communication, as it left you a hard time guessing about what was running through his mind. His expression didn’t offer any clues either, because he did pretty well at concealing his emotions behind a facade of indifference.
When you said you would do it with him, you meant it. But what did he think of it?
The sharp wind cut through your skin, the roar of his motorbike deafening your ears as your boyfriend accelerated his vehicle upon entering the tunnel. The vibrant yellow lights offered a cinematic view, tempting you to imagine yourself embracing the wind with open arms, though you knew better than to do so. Instead, you held onto him tightly, wrapping your arms around his waist and leaning forward as he sped through the empty lane.
It was nearing midnight, and the sparse traffic allowed Sukuna to indulge in one of his habits: riding his bike in the late hours of the night through this particular tunnel and onto the highway. You knew this ritual helped him clear his mind since it offered a rush of danger that sharpened his focus on the road. His choice to take this route tonight also only confirmed to you that he was grappling with internal thoughts. The last time he rode this fast was when your parents made you choose between them and him, slapping it in his face that he was and would never be welcomed in your family.
To be honest, it frightened you. The speed at which he was riding was dangerous for both of you. Moreover, his bike was a YZF-R1, although street-legal, it was still a high-performance sport bike more suited for the track. It required agile and precise handling with its 1000cc engine. Yet, no other vehicle seemed more fitting for Sukuna than this.
Whatever was on his mind, he didn’t care to let you know. You two didn’t really speak throughout the ride while you clung to him like a backpack, praying in your head that you two wouldn’t get into an accident. Thankfully enough, he did safely take you home as you arrived at your shared apartment at exactly midnight.
“Please don’t ride like that again,” you muttered as he helped you out of his motorbike. “You could’ve gotten us killed.”
His fingers then reached to unclasp your helmet, pulling it up to reveal your face. “Well, we’re still alive.”
You looked at his face despite his best effort to avoid yours, standing centimeters apart while he switched off the engine. He didn’t return your gaze as though he was drowned by guilt. Should you speak at this? Or should you let him do it first?
“Baby.” After a minute or so, it was your boyfriend who sighed and finally gave in, pulling you close and resting his forehead against yours. He kept his eyes closed even when he was cupping your cheeks. “You don’t have to do this.”
Yes, you certainly shouldn’t. You didn’t have to do things unwillingly, but that wouldn’t change the fact that this on-going issue was putting a strain on your relationship and this would be your last shot at trying to salvage it. And you couldn’t have him looking for sensual gratification from anyone else other than you, so what other option did you have, really?
“I want to do it.”
“Not if you’re forcing yourself like this.”
You raised an eyebrow. “Who said I’m forcing myself?”
“Your face tells me you are,” replied he, staring at your face in defeat. “So, let’s not—”
“What, and let this issue haunt us over and over?” You smiled bitterly, shaking your head adamantly. “This has to be done. I need to experience it so I’ll finally understand.”
Understand what? His face almost spelled out those words, but he chose not to say anything of the sort and instead leaned in to kiss your forehead. “Alright. I’ll make it memorable.”
— —
Easier said than done, of course. You kept overthinking about whether your performance would be satisfactory to him given that you didn’t have enough experience to learn anything at all, aside from the make out sessions that you did once in a blue moon. Around thirty minutes of your time was spent hyperanalyzing your situation in the shower, while the other half of it was spent doing a little more than your nightly routines. Since Sukuna liked powdery scents, you placed a good effort in applying lavender-scented oil and perfume on every inch of your body. You also shaved any unwanted hair, especially on all the intimate places you knew he would be seeing. And by the time you were done, you stepped out of the bathroom blooming like a fresh flower, wrapped in nothing but a thin towel that hugged your womanly figure.
It didn’t feel right at all. It didn’t feel good knowing that you were preparing yourself like that, when these things should only happen on the first night after your wedding. It didn’t feel great that you were going to lose your virginity to a man who had not even proposed to you. This wasn’t even your honeymoon, but you had to pretend like it was.
Did Sukuna feel the same?
He wasn’t lying in bed when you walked out of the bathroom. Instead, he had just returned from outside—shirtless, wearing his favorite gray sweatpants, and holding a box of condoms and a tube of lube in his hand. It was clear he had made a quick visit to the convenience store nearby and got the essentials for your first night.
Immediately, he eyed your towel-wrapped body with restrained lust, clearing his throat as he walked towards the nightstand. “You look nice.”
Really? Did he really have to make this more awkward than it already was?
“Thank you,” was all you could softly reply. It was funny how he pretended to be busy placing the box and tube above the bedside table instead of lunging at you like a desperate man. But because you wanted to get this over with, you were the one who approached him from behind, wrapping your arms around his waist, and touching the firmness of his abs. For someone who had zero experience, you were definitely trying hard enough and that should please him. “You have to help me out here, my love. Guide me.”
When Sukuna turned around, your heart started racing. Of excitement? Maybe. Of anxiety? Perhaps. He made it better though when he finally caved in and looked straight into your eyes, tucking a few strands of hair behind your ear before lifting your chin with his hand. “You smell extra nice, too,” he added, leaning close enough that you could feel his warm breath fanning your face.
You were feeling it now. The equal lust. The carnal desire. The feeling of his sweet kisses, which he made true as soon as he crashed his lips onto yours. His kisses usually ranged from tender to rough, but this time, it was an altogether different type of kiss. It was passionate and demonstrative, as if showing you exactly what he had been wanting to do to you the first time you got together. This must be the result of being celibate in over a year. He was clearly a man deprived of sexual pleasure, and you were responsible for it. You actually turned him into a monk.
Now, he wasn’t holding anything back anymore. With his hand on your nape, he deepened the kiss to the point where you could feel his tongue exploring your mouth. You followed whatever he was doing like a good girl, like a very good girl, as he completely devoured your mouth with his. It didn’t take long for him to advance his kisses in other places too, being your jawline his next target, and then your neck as he feathered kisses around the soft flesh, leaving marks that would need a few days to be concealed.
Because his arms were tight around your waist, yours were locked around his neck. Where else should you be putting them? What does the girl usually do in this situation? You tried not to think much of it and listened to your own body while your boyfriend was sucking the skin around your collarbone. At first, your hand traced his toned chest, then it moved southwards to feel his abs, and further down to his…
“Y-You’re hard.” Your eyes widened as you felt his growing erection behind the fabric of his sweatpants. It wasn’t your first time seeing his boner, but it was the first time you touched it with your own hand. It was the first time you had your palm stroking his length, swallowing hard as you realized just how hard and thick he was.
“It wants to be inside you,” he whispered through your mouth, kissing you back again, “so bad, baby.”
Gosh. Your knees felt weak and you two hadn’t even really started yet. How much more when he starts putting that thing of his inside you? You were breathing hard, trying to catch air as your boyfriend continued to lap his tongue with yours, guiding your hand to continue fondling his wood while it grew bigger the more stimulated it got. By letting you touch his hardened crotch together with his own, you realized that you had just unlocked a newfound fetish of yours. “D-Do you… do you think about doing it with me often?”
He bit your lower lip before pulling away, animalistic eyes sending you into an orbit of pleasure. “Do you mean if I touch myself to the thought of you a lot?” he teased, chuckling darkly at the obvious heat on your cheeks. You couldn’t help but feel excited at how vulgar he could be with his words. “I do jack off a lot, angel. And it’s always you in my mind.”
You didn’t even have the time to melt from his words, because before you knew it, he was already peeling the towel off your body to reveal your completely naked figure. Obviously, your first reaction was to get shy—with your heated cheeks, your inability to look him in the eyes, your little efforts in covering your breasts and crotch, but he made sure to pull your hands away while keeping his eyes on you. “…Don’t stare.”
Sukuna, however, didn’t listen. His dark eyes scanned every curve of your body, particularly around your chest area before he sighed and threw his head back. “Fuck,” he cussed under his breath. “You’re so fucking sexy. I can’t believe no other punk has seen you like this.”
Your confidence grew little by little because of his praises. “But isn’t that a good thing?”
“For sure.” He almost laughed at his own words, more so in disbelief, before he reached out to touch your bosom. “No one can touch you like this, either, baby.”
“That’s—”
“Hmm?” Your boyfriend smirked at your reaction. While his other hand went to squeeze your breast, the other traveled to your bum, squeezing the cheek with equal fervor. “Can I have a taste of you, baby?”
He fondled your breasts with both hands now, massaging the rounded mass like they were his property. You had to admit to yourself that the feeling of being touched actually transcended your expectations. Or maybe it was only because of how erotic it was, but you couldn’t deny how turned on you were as his veiny, manly hands cupped your bosom.
And as soon as you nodded and permitted him to ‘taste’ you, he took no time in gently pushing you down the mattress, allowing you to lay at a comfortable position under him and his wanton stare. Taste you? He was more like eating you, when he pinned you against the mattress and sucked the skin on your chest. At first, his tongue rolled along your cleavage, inching closer and closer to your right breast while he had his hand squeezing the left. Your body naturally gravitated towards him as you arched your back so he could have better access to your chest. Not only your chest, but also your crotch as he started grinding his clothed manhood in between your folds.
“Mm…”
Sukuna’s mouth was on your breast now, suckling on your flesh and playing his tongue around your nipple. You couldn’t tell if it was pleasurable or painful because his tongue felt ticklish on your skin, but the suction definitely was an entirely different feeling. Both weren’t bad, anyway. They were just new to you. But even if they were foreign, you were curious and all the more interested, studying every little thing he was doing with your body and trying to make mental notes out of it.
Maybe you should have watched porn. That way, you could have been more aware of the step-by-step process of having sex. Who knew there were steps to follow at all? You didn’t think that foreplay could draw this much delay in your session because all you thought was that he was going to insert his cock straight inside you as soon as he saw you naked.
With all the touching, fondling, and kissing… what were you supposed to do? He was doing all the work here.
“Baby,” you spoke softly, staring at the ceiling, “C-Can I… touch you?”
Instead of pulling away, his mouth latched onto your left boob, giving it the same attention before moving south. “Not yet.”
When he said that, you didn’t expect his hand to land on your crotch. Your heart was thumping at an irregular rhythm as you felt his fingers moving in circles around your bud, playing with your clit before spreading your folds apart. “Nghh—!” you let out an embarrassingly loud moan, eyes widening at the sound of your voice, but your boyfriend shushed you by placing a peck on your lips before spreading your legs into a V.
“You’re so wet,” he said, pointing out the obvious as he positioned himself in between your legs, spreading your labia to reveal your entrance. Something about the situation made you increasingly self-conscious, but his undeniably hungry gaze kept you from covering your most sensitive area. It seemed like he was enjoying the sight of your pussy, especially with how wet and ‘untouched’ it was. “Your pussy’s so pretty, baby,” he mumbled, lowering his face closer to the area, “Can’t wait to put my dick inside it.”
You whimpered at the feeling of his tongue in between your folds. No, you couldn’t even think straight after he started teasing your vagina, alternating between flicking his tongue around your bud to french kissing your entrance. His tongue was so deep in your cavern that you were raising your hips involuntarily, going insane from the pleasure it sent your body. Your hands even gripped the sheets and your back arched into a C as you held back from moaning like a wild animal. At some point, the slurping sounds and the feeling of his mouth kissing your vagina had your legs shaking.
Though, you could ask yourself: what turned you on the most? Was it him actually eating your pussy or just the idea of him doing it?
And just when you thought he was done, he replaced his mouth by inserting a finger inside your cunt, garnering a much louder whimper out of you. “B-Baby!”
“Does it hurt?” he asked, eyes locked with yours as he slowly moved his middle finger in and out. “It’s so tight.”
“It hurts…” You nodded, feeling his finger moving in circles inside your cunt as though he was trying to get a feel of your walls, measuring the tightness and such.
He kissed you for a good minute. “Relax, angel. Don’t clench too much.”
Clench? You didn’t even know you were doing such a thing. “How to…?”
“Just relax.” Sukuna placed a hand on your abdomen, pressing it down while he was inserting yet another finger inside of you. “This’ll help you prepare so it won’t hurt as much later.”
Now, you were goddamn nervous. What did he mean it wouldn’t hurt as much? Because you were overthinking the pain of having him his actual cock inside of you. If you couldn’t even bear having his two fingers inside you, how much more with his clearly thick shaft? It was ridiculous to feel both anxious and yet aroused at the same time. Anxious, because you knew he could rip you open. Aroused, because his fingers were currently doing a great job at hitting your most sensitive spot. Whatever it was that he was reaching, it was certainly sending waves of ecstasy throughout your body.
His fingers continued to move. In. Out. In. Out. In. Out. Around. When he pulled his digits out, he sucked the juices on them, tasting every drip of your essence from his fingers. “Sweet.”
Were you? You started to get curious at how he tasted, too. Sweet? Salty? Bitter? You seemed to be moving on autopilot when you pulled yourself up and sat in bed on your knees. “Your turn?”
You asked the question as if you knew what you were doing, which was why Sukuna found it adorable and humorous at the same time. He did help you pull down the sweatpants that had been covering his erection for what felt like eternity, only to reveal a monstrous size that sprung out of the garment.
Holy fuck was all you could say.
He stood at the edge of the bed, a devilish smirk displayed on his saintly face as he saw the length of his cock compared to your face. You obviously hadn’t seen many cocks in your lifetime to be able to compare his size, but in your eyes, he was definitely big. He was girthy. He was lengthy. He was veiny. Meaty.
“Wanna suck it for me, baby?” he encouraged, pumping his shaft while looking at you. Fuck. “Open your mouth.”
You did as told, wrapping a hand at the base of his length while placing his tip on your mouth. You pressed your tongue flat on the surface of his tip, rolling your tongue around the head as if it were a lollipop. Was that what you were supposed to do?
“Eyes on me.” His voice deepened an octave. And it was also raspier.
Why did he want you to look up at him? It was already embarrassing.
“I said, eyes on me, angel.” He grabbed your chin and forced you to lock eyes with his darkened ones. Damn. No wonder girls were desperate to see him in his shop every single day. This was probably what they had been daydreaming about. “Suck my cock.”
In your head, you became a slut. In reality, you were still a shy, inexperienced virgin who didn’t know what to do. You relied on his instructions and looked at his expressions to know if you were doing a good job and to see what he liked and didn’t like. He definitely liked it when you sucked the head, liked it even more when you started to let him go deeper in your mouth, and surely liked it a hell lot better when you gagged after his cock hit the back of your throat. But in spite of the string of saliva that left your mouth after gagging from his cock, his arousal only grew harder, this time holding your hair in his fist as he began thrusting his hip forward. You were bobbing your head at a rhythm that satisfied him, feeling the stretch on your scalp as he tightened his grip on your hair.
“Tighten your mouth around it,” he instructed, fucking your mouth senselessly like hitting your throat was driving him nuts. Your eyes were already filling up with tears because of your urge to gag again, but you didn’t think it would be a good idea to stop now while he was just starting to pleasure himself.
This was the first time in your life to give someone a blowjob, and you weren’t sure what to make of that experience. It personally didn’t give you pleasure, but you liked hearing his desperate moans. You liked hearing him curse and get vulgar with his words. You liked seeing him get rough. His taste, on the other hand, was somewhat a different experience. Since you were only sucking his flesh, it was a tad bit salty at first contact but didn’t taste anything much after tongue got used to the skin around his shaft. Perhaps his cum would have a stronger flavor, though it looked like he had no plans in releasing his load into your mouth as he pulled his member out.
“Fuck it,” he grunted, gently pushing you back and spreading your legs wide open again, “I wanna feel your pussy so bad. Can I fuck you raw, babe?”
All those condoms, and he wanted to have you raw?
“But… I don’t wanna get pregnant.”
His face was full of assurance, shaking his head and denying any chance of knocking you up. “You won’t be. I’ll pull out, I just… I have to feel you raw the first time. I have to.”
“Okay…”
You were nervous as hell. You had butterflies in your stomach, your heart pounding in your chest like a drumbeat you couldn’t silence. You had imagined this moment countless times, but now that it was here, the reality of it was too overwhelming. Your mind yet again raced with a whirlwind of doubts and insecurities, and every nerve on your body seemed to be on high alert while you watched him getting occupied with rubbing his entire length with lube, ensuring a smooth entrance inside you.
He was nervous too, right? You couldn’t be the only one. You couldn’t be.
You just wanted everything to be perfect. To show him how much you cared. To feel that you were enough. But the thought was paralyzing. Tonight was more than just physical intimacy; it was a step forward in your relationship, a moment of connection you wanted so badly to cherish. This first intimate encounter should be filled with love, respect, and mutual understanding.
But what if after this, he’d come to realize that you weren’t the one? What if he’d get disappointed and tell you that you weren’t worth it? What if he’d leave you for someone else who could pleasure him better? What if, after you had given yourself to him, no one else would ever appreciate you anymore?
You wanted this, didn’t you? You wanted to feel the heat of his touch, the intensity of his gaze, the intimacy of your connection. You wanted to explore this uncharted territory with him, to dive headfirst into the unknown and discover what lay on the other side. But were you really ready for this? Did you truly want this? Would it be everything you had imagined, or would you regret losing your virginity to him?
The fear of inadequacy gnawed at your confidence as Sukuna positioned himself back in between you, his tip rubbing at your slit a couple times before he finally sunk it into your entrance.
“Haaa—!”
“Shh. It’s okay, it’s gonna be okay.”
“N-No, I—!”
It felt like your walls were being stretched so painfully, like your flesh was being torn open in the most agonizing way. This was not the kind of pain you pictured out when he put his member inside. Sukuna even tried to grab hold of your hips to keep you steady, but you were withdrawing your hips back, wanting nothing but for him to remove his cock.
“It hurts… It hurts… please, stop. Please!”
“Baby, I’m trying to be gentle—”
“I SAID STOP!”
Both of your eyes widened at the same time, and that was the only time you two were ever in sync. He was clearly shocked by your outburst, while you yourself were surprised at how you raised your voice at him. Neither of you expected that situation. As a result, he did pull away and completely withdrew himself from you.
Frustration was evident on his visage and he couldn’t even hide it anymore. “Fuck this,” he spat in exasperation, taking a deep breath as he reached to slip his sweatpants back on. “I knew it.”
“No, I…” You swallowed. “It just… You kinda forced it, I wasn’t ready.”
“I forced it, really? I forced you?” His laugh was out of complete disbelief. “I never forced you into anything, angel. I’ve asked you since the beginning if this is really what you want.” He took a pause, a very uncomfortable one, before he went on murmuring, “It was just my tip and you’re overreacting like this. I’m not even halfway in.”
His agitation had finally awakened you to your senses, realizing that you did end up doing what you were scared of doing. You ruined the moment. You were so caught up in your bubble of negative thoughts that you had once again failed to fulfill what you were supposed to do. No wonder he was aggravated, now sitting away from you and wearing his clothes as if telling you that he was done. Done being blue balled by his own girlfriend. Done expecting something he was never really bound to have.
You reached out to touch his arm. “Baby, I’m sorry… I just got scared, but we can still—”
“Still do it?” he continued your sentence by ironically cutting you off, “No, the fuck, I won’t. I’m not in the mood anymore.”
His reaction brought tears to your eyes, because the way he was acting stung your fragile heart. You didn’t mean to ruin anything. More importantly, you didn’t wish for everything to just turn out like this. “I-I’m sorry. Let me try again, please.”
The weakness of your voice seemed to have softened him, becoming calmer and more composed after a few minutes of contemplation, but he still held his ground when he massaged his temple and sighed. “Let’s just not push it, Y/N.” He looked at your eyes, with hurt and rejection reflecting on them. “Even if you say you wanna do it, you think I can’t see it in your face that you’re not really into it? You’re never ready for me and maybe it’s my fault, maybe there’s something about me that you’re so scared of. Maybe it’s because you don’t feel secure with me, maybe you wanna save yourself for someone better, someone who can give you a brighter future—”
“That’s not true!” You shook your head desperately, your eyes blurring from the pool of tears while you clung to his arm. Where was all this coming from? It sounded like he had been harboring those feelings for so long. “That’s not true. What are you even saying?”
“I don’t even know what I’m saying. I’m just…” Trying to give a reason why you won’t give it to me. That must be what he had wanted to say. “Look, I don’t wanna pressure you into this bullshit anymore. I don’t wanna make it look like I’m begging for your affection like this. Intimacy should happen normally for couples, and if we can’t have that, then we can’t. That’s it.”
Why did he sound like he was giving up?
You tried to keep your emotions at bay while listening to him battling with his internal thoughts. “I understand I disappointed you tonight, but…”
He was adamant at shaking his head, distancing himself from you by getting up from the bed. “No, you got nothin’ to apologize for. It’s your body and your choice. I’d never force you into anything.”
Then… then…
“I just think it’s not the perfect time,” he continued, shooting you a glance before looking away. Each step he took added another crack on your fragile heart. “From now on, I’m never gonna initiate anything intimate nor will I expect anything from you, aight? I’m over it.”
Alone in your vulnerability, you could feel the cold air hugging your naked body as you watched him walk towards the door, leaving you in the dark both literally and figuratively. “Where a-are you going? Come on… Please.”
He no longer cared to turn around. He no longer bothered to comfort you as he walked away, muttering, “Just gonna go for a ride. Don’t wait on me.”
— —
Nearly three weeks had passed since that night and you would be lying if you said everything was okay.
No, everything was not okay. You could feel the distance growing each day even when you two still did everything together. Your normal routines didn’t feel normal anymore because he was acting too detached ever since he told you that he wouldn’t initiate anything intimate ever again. And to be honest? It hurt. A whole fucking lot. Hearing your partner say that they would never wish to do anything intimate with you was probably the worst way to experience heartbreak. Because he was truthful with it, and he showed it very openly.
Now, he’d lock the door whenever he would take showers. He’d spent most of his time outside riding his bike until midnight. He stopped texting you sweet messages while on tattoo shop duty. He seldomly joined you to eat breakfast and dinner together. His back would face you whenever you two slept in bed. His eyes avoided you even when you walked around in underwear. His hand wouldn’t touch you even when you were centimeters close to him. There were no kisses exchanged either, unless obliged to do so when leaving the house. No hugs. No hair-stroking, hand-holding sweetness ever shared. You were simply cohabiting in your shared apartment like strangers who had barely even said I love you’s.
“Man, that’s rough,” remarked Suguru Getou, your cousin and the barista, as he tidied up the counter behind the elevated bar. Having just served his friend an Americano, he listened intently as you vented about your situation with Sukuna. “I’ll be honest with you, Y/N. It’s not looking good for you.”
You knew that. You just refused to acknowledge it. “I mean, all couples fight.”
Suguru shook his head, however. “You two aren’t even fighting. Dude just gave up and started detaching himself from you. If that’s not a sign already, then I don’t know what is.”
“What sign?” you asked, hiding the obvious worry in your voice. You need not be dense about his words, but you wanted to have some kind of hope to grasp on.
“Sign that he’s falling out of love?” he continued.
And somehow, his white-haired friend thought it would be okay to chime in. “More like a sign that the tool's not interested anymore and is about to dump her.”
Your face felt hot and in the most terrible way. “Sorry, what was your name again?” you asked, your tone dripping with sarcasm. You hadn’t expected the guy to suddenly chime in, considering he had been quietly typing on his laptop just moments before. “I don’t remember asking for your opinion, so don’t go listening to somebody else’s business when you’re not part of the conversation.”
“Jeez,” said the albino guy, grinning at your cousin as if amused by your barrage of a response. “She’s a yapper, too. I thought she was supposed to be this sweet and innocent type, Suguru?”
“Not always.” Suguru chuckled at his friend before turning to you, apologetic eyes now attempting to soothe your nerves. “Sorry ‘bout that, Y/N. Satoru just likes to tease people. Don’t mind him.”
You kept a straight face. “Well, then maybe tell your friend to keep his nose out of conversations he’s not invited to.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Satoru gave you a playful salute before extending his hand towards you. “Look, I didn’t mean to overhear, but I actually sympathize with you. If it were me, I’d never do that to you, baby.”
Oh, God. You were so bad at this. Was he flirting with you or was he simply playful like this?
Nevertheless, you rolled your eyes and ignored the hand he offered, essentially brushing off his advances. “I don’t need sympathy. All I’m here for is to talk to my cousin to try and have his advice on the matter,” you emphasized pointedly, making it clear to Satoru that he was the last person you wanted advice from. “I don’t need a stranger listening to my personal life.”
“Doesn’t hurt to receive advice from another guy,” countered Satoru, shrugging. “Right, Suguru? I mean, we’re both guys. We can give you some insight into how men think.”
You felt the urge to bury your face in your hands. It was clearly a mistake going there and putting yourself in that situation, and now having two guys aware of your sex life with your boyfriend. That alone was so wrong on many levels. But could it be helped? Suguru was your closest cousin, the only one who didn’t turn his back on you after you left your parents’ home. He was working at a cafe three blocks away from your flower shop and you happened to be delivering a batch of fresh floral decorations for their cafe. You obviously found it a good opportunity to open up to him about your struggling relationship and hoped he could offer some male perspective on Sukuna’s behavior. You just hadn’t anticipated his friend eavesdropping on the conversation the entire time.
Well, that should have been expected anyway, since only the three of you were in that cafe on a lazy Wednesday afternoon.
“I don’t kiss and tell, by the way.” Satoru was beaming as he gave you that assurance and you couldn’t help but admit that the man had some charm in him. He was attractive, no doubt about it. He was also tall, toned, and seemingly well off based on the way he dressed. He had a casual yet preppy style, something you would normally see from guys who went to private school.
“Do you work?” you asked out of sheer curiosity. “You don’t seem like the type.”
“Oh, now she’s interested.” Satoru seemed to have found your sudden interest in him humorous. “I’m finishing my MBA, miss. Thank you for asking.”
“He’s a privileged rich kid with generational wealth and a family business,” Suguru remarked, playfully gesturing a cutting motion across his neck. “Definitely not your type, huh, Y/N?”
“Why, what’s her type?” The white-haired man looked intrigued, pulling his stool closer. He had that stupid grin on his face as though the topic just sparked his curiosity. “What’s her boyfriend like?”
Suguru, who wanted to play along, jokingly hummed in deep thought. “He’s got tattoos, likes to tattoo other people, is a college dropout, rides a big bike, smokes and drinks, listens to heavy metal, was probably a delinquent and a juvie alumni—”
“Excuse you, he’s never been in a juvenile detention center,” you defended your man, feeling like your cousin’s categorization of Sukuna was becoming a little too derogatory and you had to correct him for that, “and he’s a good man. He’s sweet and caring, he’s passionate, and he loves me sincerely.”
“Sincerely, not?” Satoru quipped, earning your glare in return. He immediately raised his hands in surrender. “I'm just joking. If you believe he’s all that, that’s your choice. I don’t judge booktok girls who romanticize typical bad boys.”
You rolled your eyes at his audacity. Each word that left his mouth seemed to stoke the flames of your irritation. “You’re so offensive, I’ll have you know that.”
The white-haired guy smugly took a sip from his coffee. “At least I don’t make girls feel guilty for not having sex with me.”
“Oooh.” Suguru was clearly enjoying the show, unaware that you were one step closer from smacking his friend across the face. “Touché. He kinda has a point, Y/N.”
“Be serious,” you warned.
To which he agreed to. “Okay, I am being serious now,” he said, abandoning his playful stance to lean in on a more solemn posture against the counter, “If you think Sukuna makes you feel guilty for not doing it with him, then shouldn’t that speak for the kind of relationship you two have? He wants something you can’t give. His reaction tells you everything you need to know about him.”
You tried to absorb his words with a better understanding and without any bias. “Isn’t his reaction normal? He’s a man, too. I understand his needs and I made him feel somewhat rejected.”
“It’s all about respect, Y/N,” answered Suguru, “If he’s a decent man, he wouldn’t make you feel that way. No mixed signals, no guilt tripping, no nothing. If you can’t do it, then don’t.”
“So, you’re saying you wouldn’t feel the same if your girlfriend keeps rejecting sex with you?”
Suguru smirked. “I never said I’m a decent man, either. All I’m saying is if what you want isn’t exactly aligned to what he wants, then maybe it’s best you break it off with him because this shit won’t get you anywhere, Y/N. Trust me. He’s gonna dump you before you know it. I mean, it’s one thing to pretend he’s all fine with it, and it’s another to distance himself from you like he’s silently protesting.”
“Yeah, that’s true,” Satoru joined in once again. “It’s impossible for a guy like that to be in a relationship for so long and not have any pussy. We think of sex 24/7, some of us are just better at restraining ourselves than others. He’s putting up with it now, but it’s only a matter of time he gets sick and tired of waiting. You do realize he can get any girl he wants, anytime he wants, right?”
Although you were still uncomfortable at Satoru casually chiming in on the conversation, it was true when they said they could give you the exact male perspective you needed to hear. This allowed you to go deeper into Sukuna’s psyche and understand why he was acting that way. You just didn’t know how to save the connection you have with your boyfriend when both your cousin and his friend were describing all the red flags on Sukuna’s behavior.
“I don’t know,” you spoke in a tone of defeat. “I kinda understand where he’s coming from, so I can’t just leave him for it. I love him.”
Satoru looked at your cousin like you couldn’t be saved. “She’s in too deep.”
“Yeah, gaslighted as fuck.” Suguru was shaking his head in disappointment.
The taller man chuckled and brought up a ridiculous offer to lighten the situation up. “Honestly, Y/N. I know we just met and all, but if you ever need someone to teach you how to do good in bed, just hit me up. He’ll never know.”
“Shut up,” you shot back at Satoru, eyes rolling at his remark.
“You’re out here feeling bad for that guy when he could be fucking his clients at the tattoo shop.”
You argued. “No, he’s not—”
“Are you sure he isn’t?”
It wasn’t Suguru nor Satoru who posed that question; it was Yuki Tsukumo, the café’s manager and Suguru's respected senior. She was in a relationship with one of your boyfriend’s stepbrothers, Choso, and was also a fellow biker, which allowed her to cross paths with Sukuna in their community. Despite this connection, she was never particularly close to him. In fact, Yuki didn’t personally get along with Sukuna and she was very vocal about it. She was, however, a regular client of yours and ordered floral arrangements from your shop on a weekly basis.
It had been awhile since you last saw her, and didn’t expect that the first greeting you would give her was a question. “Yuki, what do you mean?”
Great. Now, three people know about your relationship quagmires.
She was placing her helmet at the counter and sitting on a stool before answering you, “I really think you should talk to him about it, Y/N.”
No, no. Why did you suddenly feel a pang of anxiety out of nowhere? Something about the sympathy in Yuki’s eyes felt unsettling, and it sent a wave of fear through you. She definitely knew something. What was Sukuna doing behind your back?
“Can you please just tell me?”
Her gaze studied your face intently, as if deliberating on the right thing to do. “Well... I spotted him riding with a girl the other night. Initially, I thought it might be you, but last night, I saw them together again. I recognized her... because it was his ex. I think he’s been giving her rides home lately.”
Amidst the quiet of the room, your heart felt like it was breaking in two. The sudden revelation sent you into an abyss of pain.
“You might wanna visit his tattoo shop later.” Yuki encouraged me with a comforting smile. “It may be best to confront him about it.”
— —
Sukuna wasn’t sure how to act around you anymore. It wasn’t like he was purposely avoiding you, but he just didn’t feel comfortable acting like everything was fine and dandy. Because if he was damn honest, the sexual frustration was fucking with his head. So much so to the point where he started questioning himself if he should still put up with a relationship like this.
First of all, there were pros and cons involved. He had to consider that it was a special connection filled with special memories, too.
If he was talking about the pros, he knew he would have a loving lifetime partner with you. You were beautiful, kind, and pure. You inspired him and motivated him to be better. You were unmaterialistic and happy with the littlest things. You gave his dominant side the urge to be a better man, like he was made to protect and provide for you. You became his muse; a blank canvas that was all for him to paint on. A canvas that no one had ever touched. Or, in your world, a white lily that was associated with chastity and virtue.
But then, there were also cons, and the foremost of it being you were too conservative for your own good. You grew up in a strict environment with uptight parents who wanted to control your life. He could never voice it out, but he really hated that you were square like your parents sometimes. You were too traditional and afraid to explore new experiences, oftentimes policing him for living his life as free as he wanted it to be. The ‘opposites attract’ thing did seem to work in your relationship at first, with your differences being exciting for each other, but as time went by, it became clearer to him that you two were too different to actually be in sync together.
Hence why your relationship became rigid and suffocating, forcing him to take a breather by distancing himself from you for some time. He did this for your benefit, because he had to clear his head before risking losing you for good. He didn’t want to jeopardize a relationship that he knew meant the world to him. Perhaps this was just a phase, a challenging period following the honeymoon phase, where all your differences seemed to become more pronounced.
But to repeatedly make him look forward to sharing intimacy with you, only for you to back out at the very last minute? Man, was that so frustrating.
It didn’t help that it was destiny itself that seemed to be stirring the pot. Because while you two were going through a rough time in your relationship, the irony presented itself outside of Sukuna’s tattoo shop late at night just as he was about to close.
“Ryo?” A tall woman with athletic build, long dark hair, and beautiful doe eyes came into view with a wide smile on her face.
His ex-girlfriend of three years.
Sukuna held the door for her albeit the confusion in his eyes. “Yorozu?”
The only difference he noticed was that she had become a lot sexier, with the curves on her body more womanly than ever. It was obvious that she was active in the gym to achieve such a fit physique. But other than that, her facial features were the same. Her heart eyes still shone bright at the mere sight of him, as if they carried stars and galaxies.
“I think I came too late,” said Yorozu, smiling in disappointment, “I should probably just return tomorrow.”
“No, you’re good.” Sukuna insisted on letting her enter his shop, closing the door as soon as she was inside. “What brought you here?”
She stood confidently in front him, wearing nothing but a blank tank top and some loose white pants. “Funny story ‘cause I actually just moved to this city recently and I just found out you had a shop in this area.”
Oh? That was interesting, indeed. Sukuna wondered how she even found his shop in that case, while he was leading her to the tattoo chair. “Are you here to get a tattoo or?”
“Yeah, yeah I am.” She was sprinkling some charm in her grin. He knew her too well. “I think it’s amazing that I’m gonna get it from you again.”
While Yorozu was talking to him, he couldn’t help but ask: was it wrong for him to be in the same vicinity as his ex? Considering how jealous you could get, this was definitely wrong in your eyes. But as he wasn’t doing anything sketchy, he figured there was nothing wrong about what he was doing. Yorozu was technically a client and he couldn’t deny her his services since she was basically a friend of his, too. So, was he breaking any code here?
“Well, only if you have time now, of course,” she added out of consideration, “It’s kinda late so I can always come back.”
Sukuna shook his head and headed to get his book of tattoo art samples. “It’s fine. I got clients lined up all day tomorrow, so,” he said, placing the book on her lap, “You wanna check that or do you have a design in mind already?”
Yorozu’s eyes fell on the tattoos marking Sukuna’s body, her gaze landing on every familiar inch as though she had seen them all the time before. It was true. She had seen more of him, actually. She had done more with his body, too. “I kinda wanna get a sleeve, but I want you to choose the design for me.”
A tattoo sleeve? Damn. It was something he would never in a million years see from you, but for Yorozu, it was totally normal. She was as obsessed with ink as he was. And although she’s had a couple of tattoos in her body already, which were done by him, it would be her first time to get a full sleeve.
“I get to choose, really?” Sukuna chuckled lightly. If he were to think of Yorozu’s traits, she was definitely a classic red rose. A seductress, alluring woman was how he saw her and the said flower would be a true-to-life representation of her personality. She was passionate when it came to loving someone, and was completely devoted to him back when they were together. The only reason they broke up was because they were too similar, as if she was his counterpart, and he saw fit to leave a relationship where they both constantly battled for dominance. Yorozu could get too aggressive on loving someone and he didn’t particularly like that. He made her understand why they weren’t working as a couple, and it took her some time, but she eventually accepted his decision. Now, you could say, they were somehow on good terms. “Alright, I’ll do your sleeve, but I’ll keep the design as a surprise.”
Her eyes sparkled in excitement at the thought. “I’d love that!”
“Since you want a sleeve, we’re gonna do some stencil application today.” Sukuna didn’t waste any more time in getting ready with his equipment, biting on the glove while wearing the other on his hand. “It’ll take fifteen to twenty hours to complete a sleeve, and each session could last two to six hours depending on your pain tolerance. My schedule’s actually full all day until next week, but you can come around the same time every night so I can finish yours.”
“Yeah, I’m absolutely fine with that,” she enthused. For some reason, Yorozu was happy with the idea. The idea of coming to visit Sukuna every night in his shop. The idea that they get to be alone. The idea that they would be able to reconnect just like old times. Those were the things that Sukuna assumed was going through her head.
And as he did start with his ‘client’, it was probably best to admit that the sexual tension was high. The room felt stuffy as the both of them remained there until midnight, with her sitting on the tattoo chair, and him doing her tattoo to her left. His eyes were intently focused on the intricate patterns he was doing on her arm, but also couldn’t avoid seeing the contours of her breasts since she was wearing such a thin tank top. It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen them before. He’d seen every part of her body from her neck down to her toes. He’d put her in every position from missionary to doggy. Goddamn, he could even remember how warm she felt around his cock. Didn’t she like it when he came inside her? Or when he made her swallow every drop of his seed?
Sukuna cleared his throat, shaking his vulgar thoughts away as he continued with Yorozu’s arm. He may not be cheating, but thinking back on those intimate experiences with someone else other than his girlfriend was definitely not morally right either. But what sexual experience could he reminisce about with you? That ridiculously embarrassing night you two had shouldn’t even be counted since he was trying so hard to forget about it.
He cleared his throat. Again. For the third time. “What, uh, what’ve you been up to?”
Yorozu, who had no clue about his thoughts, turned her face to look at him happily. “Not much, actually. The bar I worked at closed down, but I got myself a new job in this club as a full time hostess and part-time promoter. You should come by. Drinks on me.”
By not exactly accepting or refusing, Sukuna decided to just smile it off. “That’s why you moved to this city?”
“Yeah, I mean… obviously, the rent here is higher, but it’s closer to my job. I get paid decently, too.”
“That’s nice.” He was just trying to make small talk at this point. “Do you know your way ‘round here? How are you gonna get home?”
She considered her options. “Probably a bus or something?”
Sukuna paused, contemplating the situation. “There's no bus here at midnight,” he remarked, concerned for the girl who would have to navigate her way home alone at such a late hour. She was new to the area and clearly still adjusting to the commuter lifestyle. Unlike her, he had a vehicle that could safely transport her home. There would be no harm in offering, right? “Look, I have a bike and I usually take midnight rides, anyway. I can drop you off on my way home.”
“Really?” Her voice echoed excitement in them. “I’d appreciate it, Ryo. Thanks so much.”
Life was ironic, truly. He didn’t see this situation coming because he never expected that he would even come across Yorozu ever again. They didn’t have any contact prior, but he still saw her on social media whenever he (on very rare occasions) decided to check his accounts. He never had her blocked, either, which was why you knew about Yorozu after snooping through his phone and reading through some of his old messages with her. Sukuna used to tell you not to worry about her, and that she was just his ex, and that she had nothing on you—which were all true, of course, but it was funny to him now that the woman his girlfriend was most threatened by was back in his life.
And she was riding at the backseat of his motorbike, her arms latching at nothing else but around his torso. She was seated at the seat reserved for you, wearing the helmet that was bought for you, and holding onto a man that was rightfully yours. It all didn’t feel right.
But because Yorozu delighted in his habit of speeding on the highway, he had somehow forgotten about the guilt that was forming in his heart.
**
“You still have your ex’s Instagram?” Your questioning eyes met his defensive ones as he joined you in the living room, finding his space on the couch next to you. “I read your dms. Why haven’t you blocked her?”
Sukuna’s breath remained steady. “Only toxic people do that shit.”
“But I’m not comfortable with it!” you nagged, letting him snatch his phone from your grasp.
“Do you see me talking to her still?” he asked, trying to be as patient as he could be, “Baby, I don’t even talk to her. I don’t think she’s active there, either.”
You crossed your arms. “Then, block her?”
“You’re being ridiculous.”
“I’m being fair. You shouldn’t be keeping tabs with an ex.”
“What are you—” Sukuna decided to cut his own sentence after realizing that the argument was plain stupid. “You know what, I’ll just delete my insta.”
**
“How many times do you two do it?” you asked out of nowhere, sitting at the waiting area while he was closing his shop. “Your ex. How often do you have sex with her?”
What kind of trap were you setting now? If he told you an honest answer, you would get mad. If he lied or even sugar coated it, you would also get mad.
“Does it matter? Why do you keep asking questions about her and then get upset with me?” Sukuna’s frustration resonated in his sigh as he tidied the space where he tattooed his client a few minutes ago. “She’s an ex for a reason, so get over it.”
He was starting to get annoyed by your never-ending questions about his past experiences, but he knew you were simply coming from a place of no experience. You probably wanted to know what he liked in bed, what pleased him the most, what kept him from wanting more. Was that too much? No. Were you overdoing this entire thing? A little bit.
“Why are you defensive?” you asked softly, still sitting on the couch as you watched him avoid your eyes. “You make me feel so insecure every time.”
He scoffed, shaking his head as he turned around. “I don’t know, baby. If you’re feeling insecure, then do something about it.”
**
“Thanks so much for the ride, Ryo.”
Yorozu stood by her door, returning the helmet back to him while she kept her eyes locked on his. Her gaze was inviting, tempting him to give in and submit to his carnal desires. Any man would read her intentions the same way; Yorozu stared at him like that because she wanted to invite him to her place. She wanted him to spend the night and do unforgivable things. To remember the passionate exchange they once shared.
But Sukuna wasn’t like that. No, he wasn’t a cheater. “I, uh, gotta get going.”
“Oh…” Disappointment clouded Yorozu’s face. “Okay, then.”
“See you tomorrow?”
“...Alright.”
“Okay.”
“Wait!” Yorozu pulled his arm just as he was heading back to his motorbike. The sudden closeness in their proximity made his heart race fast. He knew what was coming. “I missed you, Ryo.”
He knew what she was about to do next.
And holy fuck did he guess right, as he was taken aback when Yorozu suddenly leaned in to press her lips onto his. Her soft, cherry lips moved desperately to taste his sweet kisses.
But he didn’t return it. Instead, he immediately pushed her away. “Yorozu,” he spoke softly, “I have a girlfriend.”
“You do?” She didn’t need to hide it. He could see the heartbreak on her face.
“Yeah,” Sukuna confirmed, maintaining a more appropriate distance now. “We’ve been together for some time, and I live with her.”
Yorozu tried to maintain her facade of indifference, making it appear as though she was unfazed by his revelation. “That’s... That’s cool,” she said, “I’m sorry for, uh, the kiss.”
Sukuna nodded, “It’s fine. I should’ve told you sooner.”
“You’re alright,” she reassured him, “It's totally my fault. I hope she won’t be upset with you or something.”
Sukuna had no plans to tell you, knowing well the additional turmoil it would bring to your already strained relationship. However, he realized the importance of clarity in his intentions and the need to set boundaries. “We’re just friends. We’ll keep things civil. I’ll finish your tattoo in a couple more sessions, and then we’re done. Sounds fair?”
Yorozu nodded her head with a reluctant smile. “Fair enough.”
— —
5 more days. Her sleeve required five more sessions, and days went by too fast for him to count. He had busied himself with his clients, while you had busied yourself with yours. He couldn’t even spend time with you because his shop took a chunk of his time from him, and even at home, things had become too awkward ever since your unspoken night.
So, in some ways, Yorozu became his routine. She visited his shop for the past four nights and he had taken her home afterwards. She was in absolute love with her rose sleeve and they weren’t even complete yet. He still owed her one last session and told himself that it should also be the last time she should be around him. It wasn’t right and he didn’t want to create another source of argument with you.
And in truth, he certainly felt a little guilty for spending more time with his ex than his own girlfriend. But did he purposely do it? No, it was fate that brought her to his door about a week ago.
In spite of his stubbornness to admit his wrongdoing, he still ended up stopping by the flower market to get you a nice bouquet of white lilies. He knew you could make a prettier bouquet than that, but he thought it would be a perfect opportunity to surprise you with flowers that didn’t exactly come from you. Besides, he had some making up to do.
Later that night, when he returned to your shared home, he found you sitting at the couch seemingly waiting for him to come home. The lights were dimmed and the television was turned off. For some reason, you were wearing outside clothes and had a somber expression on your face, too. That alone caused the loud thumping of his heart.
“Hey,” he greeted, nonetheless, sitting next to you on the couch and kissing your cheek. “Everything okay, baby?”
Your eyes carried sadness in them as you looked at him and searched for answers you couldn’t find. “Where were you?”
Sukuna handed the bouquet over. “Got you flowers.”
You didn’t accept them. Instead, every second seemed to torture you. “Where were you before that?”
“In the shop…?” He didn’t know where to start, but he was definitely scared. “Why? Sorry I’ve been busy lately. I’ll make it up to you, angel.”
“You close your shop at nine,” you pointed out, voice breaking in the middle of your sentence. “Why do you always come home at two in the morning?”
Fuck. Fuck! What should he say? Should he make an excuse for it? Should he say he’d been checking on Yuuji after his shifts? Should he say he’d been riding to other cities to clear his mind? He didn’t fucking know what to say, especially not when you were clearly on the verge of bursting out.
“Answer me!” you cried, finally releasing the bottle out in the open. The tears that welled in your eyes now streamed ceaselessly down your face. “You’re an asshole. I-I hate you! I fucking… you think I don’t know? You think I’m too stupid to know?!”
Sukuna calmly received the fists you had swung on his chest as he tried to grab ahold of your arms. “Baby, I’ll explain everything.”
“No, damn y-you!” The tremor in your voice squeezed his heart in the most painful way because he hated seeing you breaking down in front of him and over him. This wasn’t the first time he had made you cry, but this was the first time he had seen you actually sob like this. “I-I gave myself to you! I left my p-parents for you! And this is what you do to me? You’re cheating on me with your ex?!”
He was desperate to hold you, hug you, cage you in his arms. He wanted to take your pain away. Wipe your tears away. However, you didn’t allow him to touch even a strand on your hair as you kept on pushing him off. Sukuna felt like he was going to lose his mind. “Baby, listen to me please. It’s really not what you think—”
“I don’t care!” you spat, moving away to wipe the tears off your face. “I don’t fucking care! You sleeping with her or not doesn’t change a thing. Don’t you get it? I’ll never be enough for you!” Despite your loud voice, the cracks in her facade only revealed your longing for validation and acceptance, etching into every tear-stained moment you two had shared over the course of your relationship. He watched you, paralyzed by the sight of you breaking down, as you grabbed a luggage you had been hiding behind the couch as if you were ready to leave. “I’ll never be the person you want me to be and staying with you will always remind me of it!”
“No, no, no… Let’s talk.” Sukuna had to suppress his own tears while he tried to reach out for you. “Baby, please. I don’t feel anything for her, or anyone. It’s just you. You are enough for me, baby. I’m sorry, please.”
You, on the other hand, were adamant at your decision. “I can’t stand what you’re doing to me anymore. I don’t like how you make me feel about myself. I hate how you make me question my own choices!” Tears continued to flow, and your voice wavered, transitioning from anger to a more subdued, pained tone. “I hate… I hate that I love you so much, that I lost all my backbone just to make you happy.”
“You don’t need to.” He was feeling more and more miserable now, his heart sore from all the emotions he had seen from you. “Y/N, you don’t need to. I’m sorry, I love you. I love you so fucking much.”
…
…
…
“It’s over, Sukuna,” were the last words he could recall hearing before passing out drunk in his bed that afternoon. “We’re done.”
— —
It was your first heartbreak. Your first actual relationship. Your first everything. Surely, people shouldn’t expect you to move on easily, especially not when the subject of your heartache worked across the street from you.
You were a mess. You had cried enough tears after you moved out of his apartment that night, screamed your heart out as you suffered from the pain of loneliness once more. You couldn’t even bear the thought of returning to your parents and hearing them say they told you so, because loving Sukuna was a choice you thought was good for you.
In the end, he was just a poison without any antidote. A toxin without remedy. The most effective solution was to sever all ties to prevent further contamination.
But strangely enough, you hadn’t seen him in his shop ever since that night, either. The tattoo parlor remained closed for more than two weeks without any notice. While a small part of you worried for him, a bigger part of you cared for yourself. He no longer held any importance to your life, and you should let it remain that way.
What you should focus on, instead, was living your life without any trace of him. A life of independence, away from the toxicity of a manipulative man who constantly made you doubt yourself and what you offered. As they say, you have to learn to love yourself first before you can fully learn to love others.
And in your journey of knowing the truth of that saying, a certain white-haired man entered your floral shop on a somber Friday afternoon just as you were arranging preordered bouquets for multiple customers to pick up.
“Hey,” you greeted the man, surprised at his sudden appearance at your shop.
Satoru grinned as he approached you closer. “I’m here to pick up two bouquets.”
“Oh, it was your order?” Your eyes widened. Silly you. Of course, Suguru would order on his friend’s behalf. He wouldn’t even get his girlfriend some flowers, let alone his mother. So this being Satoru’s order made much more sense. “Okay, you got a bouquet of blush peonies and another bouquet of pink tulips, am I correct?”
He smiled handsomely, displaying his set of perfect white teeth while listening to you talk. “Correct.”
“For your mom?” you asked before you made your way to pick up the bouquets, handing them to him carefully.
His response came with a soft, affirmative hum. “Mhm. One for her,” he said, taking only the bouquet of tulips, “The other is for you.”
Oh, no, no, definitely no. You had seen this before and it didn’t go well.
“That’s lovely, but…” You offered a smile. “I’m not taking those peonies.”
Satoru acted innocent, his vibrant blue eyes coruscating under the ambient lights. “But it’s mother’s day.”
You playfully shook your head. “I’m not even a mother.”
“Yes, you are,” he went on teasing, “the mother of my future kids. I like to think in advance, you know.”
Honestly? This man started off with a bad impression on you, but he wasn’t actually so bad. He was an easygoing, happy-go-lucky person who carried positive energy around him. That, and he was decent, too. He was the type of guy your parents would have surely approved of. He was a degree holder like you, even pursuing graduate studies to run a business that was already generating an income that you could only imagine of getting. He was set for life with no uncertainty with what he wanted for his future.
“Satoru?”
He met your gaze. “Yeah?”
“About your offer last time,” you recalled, recalling his earlier jest about teaching you some things in bed, “I think I'd like to take you up on that.”
#sukuna x reader#sukuna x you#sukuna angst#ryomen sukuna x you#ryomen sukuna x reader#sukuna x y/n#jjk x reader
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so I’ve been gaining a lot of insight into the animation industry recently, especially in regards to pitching & the creation of new shows. There’s a few ways to go about it.
First, there’s pitching to a studio. When you pitch, it has to be SHORT and CONCISE. You may write a lovingly detailed pitch bible that perfectly breaks down episodes and characterizations, and it might barely even get read. First impressions, first impressions, first impressions!
Most peoples’ first projects don’t get picked up. I’ve heard a few stories from directors that said they tried pitching a story they’d had for years, which got rejected, to then spend a week or even several hours in their car coming up with a new idea, only for that to get greenlit.
But that’s not the end of it. Just because a show gets greenlit, doesn’t mean it will ever get finished. There’s lots of things that can happen. Sometimes, unexpected major world events (like… a global pandemic) can cause projects to get chopped. Sometimes, a CEO change or studio merge means a single person can decide a project “no longer fits with the company’s brand.” Sometimes, the one producer that was rooting for your project gets laid off, and no one else cares enough, so it gets shelved. Sometimes, a streaming service decides to create an animation department, and then they decide they don’t want it anymore. Sometimes, the studio will be simultaneously be developing another project that was too similar to yours and they just didn’t think to tell you until they decide yours is the one with less potential.
On top of that, almost everyone in the industry is saying that “studios just don’t pick up original content anymore.” Studios want something they can franchise, something that will bring in money. New content is risky. Established fanbases are safer.
However! Studios can still be a very good thing. They can be unionized. They can provide better benefits and resources. They can have connections and infrastructure and a larger volume of workers. At a studio, you can divide the labor and produce more in less time. Longer episodes, longer seasons, more consistency in quality.
But this comes with all of the disadvantages of having more in the kitchen.
The alternative is indie animation.
With indie animation, you have total freedom. Full artistic control. It doesn’t even matter if your idea sucks ass, because there’s no one to tell you you can’t make it. You could make it anyway, and you can make it whatever you wanted.
The thing is, making animation is hard. In my production class last semester, the average maximum animation one person could make in that timeframe was 30-60 seconds, and that’s not even counting background design, sound design, or cleanup/color. To make a 5 minute animated short, you should probably have at least 5 people.
And it is CRUCIAL you have a production manager. Ideally someone who’s not already doing art for the project. Most projects without a production manager will fall apart pretty quickly. Once the adrenaline and impulse-fueled motivation wears off, you need someone to hold you accountable and enforce deadlines and proper time management.
Speaking of time, that’s also hard to get. The more people you have, the more likely schedules won’t line up. Most people will have school, or other jobs.
And it costs MONEY!!!!!! You either have everyone work for free and volunteer their time & energy, or you establish a business as a proper indie studio, with people who may or may not have experience on how to handle paying someone else’s salary. And the money has to come from somewhere, so you have to rely on crowdfunding like patreon or kickstarter. (This, by the way, is why I could never fault an indie animation for releasing merch with their pilot.)
And like, maybe you wanna do a series, and all your friends agree to volunteer their labor and time to make the first episode, but it was unanimously not sustainable. Deciding not to produce a second episode until you can raise enough money is not being suddenly greedy, it’s attempting to compensate people rather than expecting them to be continuously taken advantage of.
You have to consider your output as well. There are some outliers like Worthikids, who afaik does all his animation himself, and afaik can work on it full-time thanks to his patreon subscribers. And he still has only produced a total of 30 minutes of animation (for Big Top Burger specifically) in the past 4 years. This is an IMPRESSIVE feat and this is with using a lot of 3D as part of his pipeline!!
Indie animation also has the complication of being more accessible for fandoms. When you’re posting your Official Canon Content on youtube, it doesn’t look a lot different than the fandom-created video essay in the sidebar next to it. What’s canon vs what’s fanon becomes less distinguishable. The boundaries are blurrier. When the creator is just some guy you follow on twitter, it’s easier to prod them for info regarding ships and theories and word-of-god confirmation. They don’t have a PR team or entire international tv networks to appeal to. And this is when creators get frustrated that their fans snowball and turn their creation into something they don’t recognize (and no longer enjoy) anymore.
So it’s tricky.
Thankfully, the threshold to learn animation is fairly low nowadays!! There are TONS of resources online to learn it on your own without forking over a couple hundred thousand to a private art college. There are conventions and discord servers and events where you can network, if you know where to look.
I know it can seem discouraging in the face of capitalism, but I think that’s all the more reason why it’s so important to BE DETERMINED about animation!! We’re already starting to see the beginning of an indie animation boom, and I think it’s a testament to humanity’s desire to tell stories and create art. Even if there’s no financial gain, we do whatever it takes to tell our stories anyway.
#animation#2d animation#indie animation#long post#not 100% sure why I made this post#all this to say: I’m still not sure what direction I want to go towards for my own show#ngl!! i think im confident i could get people to like my show. i think I could find an audience#i have some experience at this point getting people to like my ocs#its just a matter of MAKING the damn thing
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Not that this would ever happen, but like food for thought:
Ghost losing his military ID and you finding it. I know he doesn't have a photo on his file but Id like to think he needs some form of identification? No? It's fictional it doesn't matter anyways--
You were tidying up, sweeping and such when you saw a card face down. Immediately you recognized the back of the little shiny plastic ID and a smile rose to your lips.
Some poor bugger had been dumb enough to drop their card.
Going over to it, you were practically rubbing your hands together with anticipation of just who the noob was. Upon snatching it up from the linoleum, you eagerly flipped it over, but were left with immense confusion.
Who the fuck is this guy?
Your brows furrowed as your eyes flickered over the picture hungrily. You'd never seen him before in your life, which you considered a pity really. He was handsome, that you had to admit, yet a stranger all the same.
It was only after lingering seconds of taking in every square inch of the photo, attempting desperately to place a name to the face did you hazard a look at the actual name of who owned it.
Silence encapsulated you in your entirety. The music which lowly played overhead was muffled out, the slight sound of your breathing faded and the tweeting from the birds just outside the window halted.
You were staring at the ID of none other than one Lieutenant Simon Riley.
Blinking dumbly, a strange, tinging sensation began spreading through your limbs at this forbidden knowledge. How had he managed to lose his card? How the hell were you supposed to return it without giving yourself away or up??
Slapping it down upon the table with the back facing upwards, you have a five minute brain storming session on what to do. Involved in the matter was much pacing, along with sweats, shakes and the occasional pause to flip the card over and sneak another peek.
Eventually you decided that it would be easiest to either slip it under his door. So you take a sticky, place it over his face, write him a small note and set off on your return journey.
You sprint away from the scene, not wanting to be caught mid return. Not exactly considering the more of a rush you make yourself seem in, the more guilty you looked.
It didn't take long before you saw him next, stomping around, throwing things aside recklessly. You could practically feel the flames shooting off of him with how pissed he was; and against your better judgement, you suggest he maybe go look in his room.
That perhaps, just perhaps, some good samaritan had found it. Your feeble attempts to ease his mind absolutely did not help, but he did follow your advice and went and checked. Sure you hadn't been the most casual, but it was better than the unhinged fit of rage you knew he was undoubtedly immersed in.
Lividly he clomps away, storming off to his residence to--in his mind--be met with nothing.
Or so he assumed.
Your vaguely pointed directions solidify the funky feeling in his chest when he opens his door and the card is actually there. Narrowing his masked gaze, he reaches down to the downwards facing ID and plucked it from the floor.
As he grabs it, his fingers brush against something other than just the cards hard plastic. Flipping it over, he finds it the sticky note you had placed over the picture and on it, in pretty writing was "keep better watch of this next time handsome, who knows who could've found it ;)"
He looks up into his room from the card, a mixture of emotions but confused was the biggest currently. His anger had to take a back seat as his mind was thrown into a mixture of emotions and thoughts. His mind is conjuring up a thousand different possibilities, yet none of them fit.
At least not well enough for his liking, however plausible.
He never directly calls you out, as that would mean he would also have to loudly state he had lost his ID in the first place. Instead of saying much of anything to you, he simply opted to watch you from there on out. Leering from the corner to see if you acted weird.
And since he always gives you heart palpitations, and there wasn't excactly a time you weren't making a fool of yourself in front of him, he had nothing new to observe.
Deep down in his soul--he knows.
bonus:
Ghost rides the instinctual feeling until one day during a meeting when Price gets you to write on a whiteboard. "You have much better writing than my old scratching, be a dear and jot this down for me?"
Compliantly, thinking nothing of it, you begin to do just as asked and jot down whatever Price is listing off to you across the board. Attempting to make it as neat and legible as possible, you were in your zone and all thoughts of the ID incident pushed to the back of your mind.
And there he is met with the neat, beautifully scrawled writing yet again and it's a very intense but silent mini freak out full circle connect the dots where he's like 'I KNEW IT DAMMIT!!!!' but very casually without any movement whatsoever aside from maybe a slight eye widen.
#simon ghost riley#ghost call of duty#simon ghost riley x reader#simon riley cod#simon riley x reader#ghost simon riley#simon riley#call of duty#ghost cod#ghost mw2
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— QUICK LEARNERS
PAIRING — Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x fem!Reader
SUMMARY — You're sent to Giedi Prime to marry your distant cousin and become the new Na-Baroness. However, your new husband seems to ignore you. You come up with an idea how to gain his attention and you ask one of the Generals from your homeworld to teach you how to wield a blade.
REQUEST — (1)
AUTHOR’S NOTE — While writing my fanfic "Forbidden Fruit" I was inspired by the mediterranean and islamic cultures creating the Reader's homeworld. This time I was inspired by my own Slavic culture but as usual – the physical appearance of the Reader is not described. 💘 I really like coming up with all these new planets! Also, I decided it makes sense for the world inspired by the Slavic culture to be related to The Harkonnens, therefore Feyd and Reader are cousins but they're distantly related (as most noble people are, I guess).
WARNINGS — arranged marriage, blood – the Reader is injured, slight incest (distant cousins), SMUT, oral, hints of breeding kink, Feyd is a bit ooc in my opinion but... so what? he's cute 🤪
WORD COUNT — 7,840
🔞 THIS FIC IS 18+ 🔞
ENGLISH IS MY SECOND LANGUAGE.
QUICK LEARNERS
Your father, The Tsar, worked very hard to make this union happen. Baron Harkonnen had wanted his heir and nephew to marry one of The Emperor’s daughters but your father’s relentless visits, letters and arguments finally worked.
Your family was cousins with The Harkonnen bloodline. You were more used to their culture and you shared similar values. Of course your house was not as important as The Harkonnens. In fact, your planet was under The Harkonnen rule and your father only governed it in their name although his family had been allowed to keep their titles.
Giedi Prime was an industrial planet without any nature which was the opposite of your homeworld. Morana was mostly dark green – a never ending forest full of valuable resources. Sadly, most of them were being transported to Giedi Prime for nearly nothing in return. Your father was determined for The Baron to make it up to your people for all the centuries of colonisation and turn their Grand Duchess into The Harkonnen Baroness.
Your home world was supplying Giedi Prime with important raw materials and fearsome warriors that were known all over the galaxy as ruthless beasts in combat. Growing up in such an environment, you would easily adapt to Giedi Prime even though it lacked the greenery completely. You would make a much better Baroness than any spoiled daughter of The Emperor. Those were your father’s arguments at least.
So, you were sent to Giedi Prime with dozens of heavy wooden chests filled with your most precious belongings. Everything you loved, everything that was defining you – it had to fit in these boxes. You couldn’t take the forests with you nor the rivers, the songs of your people, the smile of your mother, the warmth of the fireplace. All you could take were the dresses and jewels, a few books. And a burden of the realisation how big responsibility had been placed upon your shoulders. To make your parents proud and to become a good na-baroness… and then Baroness. To give heirs.
You knew Feyd-Rautha from all the official ceremonies. You had never talked to him before, he would only greet you with a head nod and a word cousin in his low, raspy voice that was sending shivers of discomfort down your spine. A few times before you had watched him fight in the arena. He was an incredible warrior but his combats were for show which was disappointing for a woman from Morana – a planet known for its art of warfare.
You weren’t scared of him and you weren’t taken aback by his Harkonnen nature nor looks. You were used to The Harkonnens visiting your planet or you visiting theirs with your parents for official events and celebrations. However, you were not pleased with this union either. He didn’t seem to be a pleasant man and you didn’t like the responsibility that came with this marriage.
Your wedding was grand. Every governor and leader of the planet under The Harkonnen rule was invited. Your dress was white, decorated with traditional red embroidery of your people. On your head there was a flower crown made out of flowers that grew on Morana. But seeing all the people around you, you quickly realised it probably was the last time you’d wear something white. No one around was wearing any colour except for black. The only white clothes you could see were the ones of the servants.
The wedding party was a display of power and violence but it wouldn’t make a girl from your planet flinch. You focused on the cake and tried to remember all the advice your mother had given to you regarding your upcoming wedding night.
She had been straightforward with you. A strong Tsarina like her would never hesitate or shy away. She had told you it would be best if you took your husband from behind so you wouldn’t have to look into his face. And she had made it clear that the marriage should be consummated. No matter how much it would hurt.
You observed your new husband with the corner of your eye but he looked the same as his wedding kiss had felt – bored and unimpressed. Cold.
Around midnight he stood up to leave the table without making any announcements. Panicked, you glanced at your new servant girls and they nodded at you. So, you stood up as well and gathered the fabric of your dress to lift it gently and follow him down the corridor.
He walked fast, you could barely catch up. His silence was heavy between you two. After all, you were his wife now – you were supposed to share a life together – but he chose to treat you like air instead.
When the doors leading to his chambers opened, you entered them right after your new husband. That was when he turned around as if he was surprised. He looked you up and down with contempt and you realised that he had not been pleased with this union.
Perhaps because you were not The Emperor’s daughter. Perhaps he wasn’t finding you attractive enough.
“Cousin,” he drawled as usual.
“Can you not call me that anymore?” You sighed.
“Wife,” you swore there was a shadow of a smirk on his face. But he didn’t say anything else and you felt helpless. You didn’t know how to talk to him.
You tried to remember your mother’s words. You weren’t there to have conversations with him.
“Husband,” you nodded your head at him and he watched with tilted head as you approached his huge black bed and bent over.
“What are you doing?” He snorted at you.
You couldn’t understand. You furrowed your brows and turned your head around. His sneering facial expression embarrassed you but you stayed in your position.
“Would you rather take me the other way around? I didn’t expect you to be a romantic,” you commented.
“I do not intend to take you at all,” Feyd shook his head. “I’m going to sleep. You do whatever,” he shrugged his arms and began to undress.
Clumsily, you straightened yourself and smoothed out the wrinkles of your dress. Once he was in his underwear, without a word he got under the cover and ignored you completely.
You watched in shock as he began to drift off to the land of dreams. You had no idea what to do. Not only you had humiliated yourself but also you had failed to consummate the marriage.
You crouched down and picked up all the pieces of clothing he had scattered all over the floor. Like a dutiful wife already, you folded them neatly and put them away on the chair by his desk. Then you removed the flower crown and your dress, thanking all the gods above that it was not a complicated piece because you had no idea how you’d manage to do that without your servants’ help. You tried to be as quiet as possible while doing that, not wanting to wake Feyd up and cause his anger.
Once you were in your linen underdress, you decided to just join him in the huge bed and go to sleep as well. You were laying as far away from him as possible as you didn’t want to bother him. It was no easy task because he decided to sleep right in the middle of it like he had forgotten already that he was married now and had to share.
You didn’t understand the situation you had found yourself in. When the small orb of light by your bedside turned off, you stared at the pitch black room as all your limbs tensed. You could hear Feyd’s soft snores and the distant sounds of your wedding party, the firework splashes of white ink in the night sky. Yet, you – the bride and the new na-baroness – just laid on the edge of the bed, feeling lonely and humiliated.
The weeks passed and you remained Feyd’s wife by name only. You shared your chambers with him but he was always awake before you and in the evening you were often asleep by the time he would join you in bed. There were days when you weren’t seeing each other at all. He was busy with training for his fights but also with fucking his concubines. You had found out about all of them from your servant girls.
The most important ones were three scary cannibalistic harpies. The servants were terrified of them because they could end up as their meal any time. There were also other women in your husband’s life but they were regular pleasure slaves and they did not matter as much. With his harpies he seemed to share some sort of bond.
Of course. Now it made sense. How could you even compare to such creatures? However, you did not even want to. You just hoped Feyd would finally be reminded – by his uncle or the medic – that he had to fulfil his duties and produce an heir.
You felt lonely and rejected. Your duties were not many and you quickly realised that most of them were nothing but a show off – just like your husband’s fights in the arena. It was probably because you were a woman and a new addition to the family. The Baron would never actually put you in charge of anything important.
Your only companions were your servant girls. You grew attached to them but they were no friends. Not because you thought of them as less but because of their timid personality. They were terrified of The Harkonnens and they were often trembling whenever they spotted your annoyance. Such a dynamic could not be a base of any real valuable friendship although your heart was breaking for them.
They had told you that the people of Giedi Prime liked you. You were not like your husband nor his family and you looked different because of the pigment of your skin and your hair. Sometimes, to your new black Harkonnen attire you would add a jewellery or a flower crown from your homeworld. The citizens of Giedi Prime adored the additional splash of colour. You expected Feyd-Rautha to scold you for that but he did not. He seemed not to care at all about you and what you were doing.
You had tried everything to get his attention and to seduce him. You had started to wear more revealing nightgowns to bed but he would ignore you. You had walked in on him taking a bath on purpose – pretending it was an accident. He hadn’t even flinched.
You had been asking him things about Giedi Prime and The Harkonnen history – making a fool of yourself by asking him things you had known already. He would always answer dryly and coldly; often without even sparing you a glance. Then he would go on ignoring you.
You had tried to move closer to him in bed at night. Pretending to be asleep, you had adjusted your body slowly until your arms touched. He had woken up abruptly and moved aside, stealing the blanket.
You nearly gave up but there was one more idea you were thinking of. You wanted to share a hobby with your husband. It could not be sex because he refused to touch you, which made you feel so unattractive that you didn’t even think of flirting with other men to cause his jealousy. His coldness made you feel ugly.
No, his other hobby was the blade. And you sometimes observed his training and they always made you miss your home. On Morana the warriors would train day and night just like him. You had often observed them with your father as he was telling you grand stories. And perhaps you were a lady, but you were your people’s Grand Duchess and you could handle the blade. Or so you had thought.
You found one of the generals of The Harkonnen army who was from your homeworld. He looked different than the rest of them because of his longer, braided hair and tattoos on his face that were your people’s spiritual symbols. However, like most of the important military men from your homeworld, he had been sent to Giedi Prime as a young boy to be trained under The Harkonnens. Such boys were some sort of a tribute in the same way your natural resources were. All those years spent under the black sun had made his natural skin colour a few tones paler. But amongst The Harkonnens he still looked the healthiest.
“General Bohumil,” you approached him one day after watching him train with other soldiers. He was putting his blades away as he raised an eyebrow at you, surprised to see you wandering around this part of the fortress.
“Slava, Grand Duchess (Y/L/N), My Lady Na-Baroness Harkonnen,” he bowed down. You smiled at the way he addressed you as it brought back memories of your homeworld where you were addressed as The Grand Duchess and with the word slava meaning glory as a sign of respect. “What brings you here, My Lady?” He asked.
“I was wondering if you’d find some time for me,” you began, a little nervously as he furrowed his brows. “To train me.”
“Train you, na-baroness?” General Bohumil hesitated. He was looking for the right words not to insult you in any way. “What does your husband think of such an idea, my Lady?”
“I don’t think he cares about what I do at all,” you admitted honestly with a shrug of your arms.
He would never say that but you could see the look in his eyes. You were a spoiled and bored noble lady in his eyes and he’d only waste his precious time on you. However, he was too scared to say no. Your question was not a proposition, it was an order. That was the way of The Harkonnens and that was the way your father ruled on Morana, too.
“Alright, my Lady. I can show you the basics,” he nodded. “We can start tomorrow. But I warn you, you can bruise or hurt yourself,” he added.
“I am aware. Those are natural consequences of a combat, General,” you smiled at him. “I will find you tomorrow,” you nodded and went back to your quarters, very pleased with yourself.
The first week of your trainings – and you had insisted on them to take place every day – General Bohumil was only making you stretch and prepare your muscles for the future extortion. No whining about it could cause him to change his mind. But after the first week you were finally given a blade to hold. It was quite short and light but very swift to move. The handle was wooden with your people’s spiritual symbols engraved on it. It was a traditional blade of the warriors from Morana and it made you feel so proud to be your father’s daughter to wield it. It made you feel as if you were home again.
You were also given a shield-like device that would protect you from hurting yourself or from the General hurting you in an accident. You noticed that he wore one, too, probably expecting you to clumsily wave the blade around and possibly cause some harm with it.
“Repeat the sentences after me, my Lady,” General Bohumil began to show you the most basic moves. You nearly rolled your eyes at how easy they seemed to be but you wanted to be an obedient student and to prove to him that you were not just a bored noble lady. You really wanted to learn.
He corrected your posture and the position of your feet as he lifted your elbow and then he began to show you the same sequence again.
You had many traits that were considered to be positive – it could be seen now, in the way you obediently performed your duties, how you desperately tried to make your marriage work and keep both of the families proud. You cared about your family’s honour, you were aware of the responsibility placed upon you. You would never sabotage your union; you were loyal and proud.
But you also possessed some traits that were considered to be negative – impatience was one of them. You didn’t want to keep repeating the same basic sequence a million times all over again, feeling like a child with a toy sword. You wanted to feel the adrenaline already like your husband when you watched him in combat or the warriors on your planet. Not listening to General Bohumil’s warnings, you started to spice up the sequence with the moves you had only seen in the gladiator arena before.
“My Lady, please, that is too advanced. We will get to it in the right time,” he sighed, trying his best to contain his anger. As a military man he was all about discipline and if you were a common soldier, he would lash out at you, you were sure of that. But you were his Grand Duchess and his Na-Baroness and he couldn’t even scold you. He could only calmly try to explain.
But you wouldn’t impress Feyd with the basic combat moves. You were sure that if he caught you now, he would laugh with contempt. No, you had to be better than that. And you hated to wait.
“This stupid shield,” you turned the device off as General’s eyes widened, “it’s distorting my view,” you whined.
“My Lady, please, turn it back on,” he pleaded. “Your eyes will get used to it after a few weeks of training, I can assure you of that.”
“A few weeks?!” You sneered. “When you talk to me using such long amounts of time, I get discouraged already. You think I’m not good enough to master this art faster than that?”
“It’s not about your personal skills, na-baroness, I assure you. Every man needs time to get better,” he swallowed thickly as he watched you play with the knife in your hand. “Please, turn the shield back on.”
Like a spoiled child, encouraged by the fact that your little hand tricks with the knife came easy to you, you took a step ahead and attacked him. In one swift movement he defended himself as he crossed his knife with yours but you could feel he was not using his full force.
You tried one of the tricks you had seen while observing the fights and you tried to quickly take a step back and attack him once again but straight into his ribcage this time. However, you were not experienced enough to try such a move and the knife clumsily slid through your hand. You hissed out of pain as it sliced through the leather fabric of your pants and through the tender flesh of your thigh.
The General’s eyes widened as he turned his shield device off and approached you quickly. You were in so much pain, you were gritting your teeth but you refused to let out a scream or to sit down. You didn’t want him to see you like this although the tears were already pricking your eyes and you could feel the warm liquid dripping down your leg.
“Na-Baroness!” There was a worry in his voice but he used a scolding tone, not being able to hold himself back anymore.
“Don’t even mention it. I know,” you drawled through gritted teeth. “It’s my fault, I know.”
He nodded his head, relieved that you were not blaming your injury on him.
“You’re hurt, my Lady. Let me escort you to the medical wing,” he insisted.
“No, thank you. I will go there myself,” you told him. “I will be back when it’s healed,” you added and limped out of the door as quickly as your pain allowed you, too.
You wanted to be alone so you could finally start crying out of pain, although you made sure to do it quietly. You were thankful that the medical wing was close to the training section of the fortress for strategic reasons.
Your servant girls had picked you up from the medical wing. They had been looking at you as if you were crazy but they hadn’t dared to say a word. Your thigh was now disinfected and bandaged and your servants helped you to change into a nightgown as they recommended you to go to bed earlier than usual and get rest. They left you alone in your chamber and assured that they would be nearby if you needed them.
But you weren’t sleepy. You felt ashamed and humiliated as you kept overthinking your stupid behaviour. You knew one thing only – you didn’t want Feyd-Rautha to find out about this accident. He would think of you as weak and foolish… and he wouldn’t be wrong.
You were laying on the bed and reading a book, making sure that your leg was covered by both your nightgown and the duvet. When Feyd entered the bedroom – earlier than usual – you started to suspect he had found out about your accident and wanted to see with his own eyes. You pretended not to pay any attention to him but you watched him from the corner of your eye as you struggled to focus on the book. He sat by his desk and sighed while reading some letters that had been placed there in the morning and you realised it was his time to perform his na-baron duties as he was supposed to deal with the paperwork. He hated this.
Knowing that he was already angry at the fact that he had to answer the letters, you were trying not to bother him at all and you controlled your own breath so it wouldn’t be too loud. On the other hand, you had to admit that Feyd-Rautha had never aimed his anger at you… so far. You had known about his nature before and although you were not scared of him, you had expected him to get violent at times. That had never happened, though.
Sometimes you wished it had. Because at least he’d react anyway to your presence instead of treating you like air.
Deep in your thoughts, you lost your focus and dropped your book with a loud thump sound on the floor. You froze and glanced at your husband’s shoulders. He stiffened and you quickly leaned in to grab the book, forgetting completely about your new injury as the duvet and your nightgown pulled up and revealed your bandage.
Once you straightened your back with the book in your hand, you noticed the exposed thigh and quickly covered it, hoping that Feyd had not seen it. You looked up and your heart skipped a beat at the sight of him staring at you intensely.
“What is it?” He asked with squinted eyes.
He talked to you so rarely that you nearly startled at the harsh and unpleasant sound of his raspy voice. You wondered if you’d ever get used to it.
“This? A book, dear husband. Something about the politics,” you chuckled nervously as you waved your hand, playing a fool.
Feyd stood up and approached the bed as you watched with terror in your eyes. He aggressively tossed the duvet aside and your skin got covered with goosebumps. He lifted up the hem of your nightgown and you hated to admit how electrifying his fingertips felt on your thigh. He had never touched you like that before.
“Who hurt you?” He asked after seeing the bandage again. His cold eyes stared into yours with a burning gaze.
“What do you care?” You asked and shrugged your arms. “It’s nothing,” you assured. “An accident.”
“I care,” he assured you but without any delicacy. “As your husband I am responsible for taking care of you and your honour,” he pointed out. “And as my wife you are my property. Whoever raises their hand on you, raises their hand on me and the Baronship,” he added.
“I did it to myself,” you bit on your lower lip and he tilted his head, visibly in disbelief. “If you paid more attention to me, you’d find out more things about me and you’d know by now that I tend to be clumsy sometimes,” you hissed at him and tried to cover your thigh again but he kept his hand there.
“I do pay attention to you,” he stated. “I observe you. I know when you’re lying,” he clenched his jaw. “Why are you defending the person who hurt you?”
“I’m not lying,” you protested.
“But you’re hiding something from me,” Feyd was relentless.
“Then we are only fair,” you put the book down as you looked at him angrily. “Your whole life is a secret kept away from me. Can’t I have mine?”
“Women on Giedi Prime do not have the same freedom as women on your planet do,” your husband reminded you. “A wife belongs to her husband in a way he will never belong to her.”
“What a relief then that I am not your wife,” you raised an eyebrow and he pursed his lips as he gave you a questioning look. “Because you have not consummated the union and refused so far to perform your duty and secure our bloodline.”
“You don’t know what you’re talking about,” Feyd snorted and looked away. “Stupid woman.”
“I do realise I am a disappointment to you. I am not one of the Imperial Princesses and I am not as interesting as your concubines. Not important enough, not attractive enough,” you decided to finally take your chance and tell him everything you had been feeling lately since it was the first opportunity to have some sort of conversation with your husband. He still refused to lay his eyes on you again. “I feel lonely, abandoned and rejected. Homesick. I want to be a good wife. I want to be a good na-baroness. But you’re not even giving me a chance. Out of boredom, I asked one of the generals to teach me how to fight and I hurt myself during training. Yes, it was pathetic of me. Go on, laugh. Make fun of me,” you encouraged him ironically. “At least it will be the very first reaction from you given to me in a long time.”
“Stop it! Stop,” Feyd-Rautha barked at you as he stood up and turned his back on you. He clutched his hands on the chair by his desk.
“Does the sound of my voice repulse you, too?” You asked, angrily. Now, when you finally let all these things out, you didn’t want to stop.
“You don’t understand!” He exclaimed and turned around to look at you with so much intensity that you curled up on the bed, feeling small and vulnerable. After all, he was a strong warrior and you were only a wounded prey. Like one of the rabbits in the forests on Morana, hunted by the hound dogs.
“Then explain it to me,” you whispered. “You owe me that at least.”
“I hurt everything I touch,” Feyd’s confession was sudden and it shocked you both. After a long while of silence between you two, he continued. “Just like him. It’s what this whole family is like.”
“I thought you liked to hurt,” you pointed out.
“Not you,” he answered nearly inaudibly. It was difficult for him to confess those things. You blinked a few times in disbelief.
“Why not me?” You asked, carefully.
“You’re supposed to be my wife. But I… I don’t know how to be a husband,” he looked at you again. You could swear that his sickly pale cheeks flushed slightly. “I was never… taught,” he explained.
“I didn’t expect you to be,” you admitted. “I knew life with you would be difficult. I knew you enough to know that. But nothing could prepare me for being… ignored. Completely,” you made your own confession as your heart pounded in your chest. You moved closer to him and reached your hands out, taking his gently and he didn’t even flinch. He just allowed it to happen, so you squeezed his cold fingers. “I am sorry I am not the wife you wanted.”
“It is not about that,” Feyd looked into your eyes. “And I do not ignore you. I let you be here. Sleep in my bed.”
“Oh, I didn’t know that was already a sign of affection,” you rolled your eyes.
“Protection,” he fixed you. “I don’t trust anyone here. They all work for my uncle,” he lowered his voice. “And as my wife, you are under my protection. If you want to learn how to fight,” he sighed and let go of your hands to sit on the edge of the bed again and reveal your bandaged thigh, “although I do not approve of that, from now on, it will be me training you. Do you understand? I don’t want any other man to teach you. I would never let this happen,” his fingertips brushed on your bandage and you felt a shiver go down your spine.
“I understand,” you nodded, trying not to smile too widely. Not exactly how you had imagined it but your plan to get your husband’s attention seemed to be working.
Feyd looked at your face again as his hand caressed your hair and cheek. You got startled at that at first but then you relaxed under his touch.
“I didn’t mean to hurt you. I don’t know how to act around… a wife,” he admitted. “All I know is that she should not be treated like a common concubine.”
“So that is why you prefer to be around them. Because at least you know what to do,” you pointed out and he nodded. “You could have told me that.”
He laughed at your words, grinning with that black smile of his. It made you chuckle, too, as you realised how stupid your words were.
“That’s right. The Harkonnens don’t talk about their feelings,” you guessed.
“Our what?” Feyd squinted his eyes at you as his face became serious again. “I don’t know anything about the arrangement between your father and my uncle. But the way you acted on our first night together, it made me realise you are not here by your own will. It brings me pleasure when my concubines fear me but I do not wish for my wife to be scared.”
“I’m not scared of you, Feyd-Rautha,” you assured him. “I have never been.”
He looked a little surprised by your confession.
“You admired me then,” he seemed to be proud of himself.
“I wouldn’t put it that way,” you cooled down his enthusiasm. “You annoyed me,” you explained and he gave you a scolding look. However, he was more disappointed than angry. “You’re a spoiled Harkonnen brat.”
“Look who’s talking. Like you’re not a spoiled little noble lady who decided she wants to learn how to wield a knife out of boredom,” he pointed out.
“I know, I do not deny. Perhaps we are not a bad match at all,” you giggled and his eyes sparkled again. “I’m not used to warriors cheating in the arena, you know.”
“He says it is not the time yet to show my real abilities,” Feyd explained himself quickly, a little embarrassed that you pointed out his cheating. Honour was important to him and it was his weak spot.
“In the bedroom as well?” You raised an eyebrow, surprising your own self with your boldness. “Perhaps you have not been taught about being a husband but you surely know what your main duty is.”
“You’re eager,” he smirked.
“I am not a concubine but I am a woman like they are. I have my own needs and desires. You do not make it easy, ignoring me after coming to bed late at night, smelling like fresh sweat, blood and leather,” you pointed out.
“I fuck like I fight,” he warned you as his pupils darkened. His face was now so close to yours that you felt his hot breath on your mouth and his eyelashes tickled your cheeks.
“Is that a promise?” You whispered.
“You have no idea what you’re asking for,” he snorted at you and you felt your cheeks heating up.
“You’re right. You have to show me,” you teased.
“No,” he moved back suddenly and you felt a sharp pain in your heart. He was so close… you nearly had him. “I don’t trust myself around you,” he admitted. “You will show me,” he told you as you raised your eyebrow.
“Me?” You swallowed thickly as his words.
“I’m yours,” he said. “Do whatever you wish with me. If a child is what you so badly want, to make your parents happy, to make my uncle happy,” he explained with a hint of sarcasm in his voice, “then go on, explore, have fun. At your own pace.”
Your heart skipped a beat in your chest as you realised that he was inviting you to initiate an intimacy between you two. You panicked as you had never expected that he’d want you to take a lead in the bedroom.
“I do not want to have a child to make anyone happy,” you fixed him. “Anyone but me. I want to secure our position on Giedi Prime,” you explained.
“So dutiful,” Feyd smirked.
“We share some values, dear husband,” you nodded and moved closer to him with a soft hiss as your injury reminded you of its presence.
“Easy, wife,” he watched you and you smirked as you put your arms around his neck.
“Are you sure you’re not doing it because you’re avoiding the paperwork?” You asked and pointed at the desk with your chin. Feyd sighed and you giggled. “I knew it,” you bit on your lower lip and sat astride him.
The first thing you did was to take off his shirt. You had observed his body many times before and the sight of his hard muscles had been the most delightful one. You tossed the shirt aside and gasped softly at your husband’s smooth pale skin. You allowed your fingertips to explore every crease, every bump, every vein and every tendon. Carefully, you leaned in and breathed in his scent as your lips softly brushed his shoulder.
His body was a work of art. Daily workouts and trainings were working miracles. He was strong and flexible. The sight alone was enough to make you feel hot. You began to feel the wetness between your legs as you allowed your fingertips to explore the upper part of his body. You tangled your legs behind his waist and moved your hands to his back, feeling the bumpy skin full of thin scars scattered all over. You had noticed them before but only now you gained the courage to ask him about them.
“Was it him?” You asked and Feyd nodded, carefully watching your reaction. But you didn’t flinch or make a disgusted face. You were sad about it. The scars were old. He had to be a young and scared boy once, tortured by his uncle to turn him into the ruthless killing machine he was now.
You leaned in to place a soft kiss upon his cheek.
“Turn around,” you asked and he looked unsure. “You said I could explore and play. I want you to turn around,” you repeated and he nodded, hesitantly, before moving away softly, making sure he wouldn’t hurt your injured thigh. Then he turned his back on you and looked behind his shoulder to see what you were about to do.
You put your hands around his waist and moved closer, still caressing the hard muscles of his abdomen, you leaned in and left a trail of soft kisses up and down his scarred back. From the short conversation you managed to have with your husband you quickly realised that what Feyd-Rautha had never known in his life was tenderness. You wanted to be the first and only person to give it to him. You were his wife and that was your job.
He flinched at the feeling of your soft lips upon his scars but then he relaxed. You lowered the hands resting on his muscular chest and put them on his hips as you shyly hesitated for a while before finally placing one of your palms on his crotch. Innocently peppering his back with delicate kisses, your hand started to massage his bulge through the fabric of his pants. He groaned softly and you froze.
“Don’t stop,” he scolded you.
“Don’t talk to me like that,” you took the hand away and moved back. “You told me I could do it at my own pace. I am not a concubine to order me around,” you reminded him and he turned around to face you again, surprised by your tone. “I am not a shy mouse, Feyd-Rautha. You seem to be aware that women on Morana have more rights. I was raised by a strong Tsarina.”
“Forgive me, I am still learning,” he answered with an amount of sincerity that left you speechless for a moment. As if he really tried to be a good husband.
“It’s quite alright,” you caressed his shoulder. “Lay down for me?” You encouraged and he nodded, quietly.
Feyd moved up on the bed to rest his head on the pillow and you crouched down, waiting for him to be on display for your needy hands. The fact that this terrifying warrior that nearly everyone feared seemed to be so obedient for you just because you were his wife was making you even more and more aroused.
“You’re beautiful,” you murmured as you caressed his chest again. “I mean it.”
“So are you,” he confessed as he looked up at you and you shyly lowered your gaze. “I mean it,” he repeated your words.
“I haven’t felt very beautiful lately,” you admitted.
“I didn’t know,” he confessed.
You didn’t want to talk about it now. You lowered yourself to his neck and sucked on the soft skin only to soothe it with a kiss right after. You went down with your kisses, making sure to leave it upon every inch of his torso before you finally found yourself facing his crotch. His pants looked very tight at the moment. Too tight.
Shyly but curiously, you unbuttoned them and pulled them down with his underwear, watching his hard cock twitching at the feeling of your hot breath. His size impressed you but also made you anxious. You helped Feyd to get rid of his clothes completely and tossed them on the floor before leaning in again.
You grabbed his length carefully as he hissed out of pleasure, trying not to think of all the concubines he had before you – concubines who knew how to please him way better than you did. You hesitated before placing a delicate kiss on the tip.
“Be patient with me, I am only learning,” you looked up, giving him puppy eyes. He was looking down at you with darkened pupils and haze in his gaze.
“Have fun down there,” he growled and threw his head back. You giggled and went back to the soft kisses and kitten licks as your hand pumped his length.
“I’m glad you didn’t take me on our wedding night,” you admitted. “This is so much more fun,” you squeezed his tip and he bucked his hip with a grunt as you watched the black precum leaking out.
You had been educated enough by your mother, servants, medics and all the explicit books you could find in the library. You smirked and licked him clean before lowering your head and taking him as far down your throat as you were able to. You kept yourself steady by holding his muscular thighs but when you felt his cock twitching a little, you let go quickly; your drool mixed with his thick black precum leaked down your chin. Feyd looked up with an annoyed expression on his face but he didn’t say anything this time.
“We can have more fun once I’m expecting. Now we can’t waste any of that, can we?” You tilted your head and pulled your nightgown up to your hips before moving up and lining his cock with your glistening pussy. You swallowed thickly at the sight of how hard and big he was.
“Take your time,” Feyd put his hands on your hips. “It’s a lot to take,” he bragged.
“Oh, so you think I can’t handle it?” You raised an eyebrow.
Just like when it came to wielding a blade, you didn’t like being told that you couldn’t handle something. You were an impatient lady.
“I am your wife,” you reminded him as you slowly lowered yourself. The feeling of his swollen tip brushing your clit made you shiver but you bravely kept a poker face on. “I was made to take your cock and carry your children,” you added. “No matter how big it is, I’m going to take it.”
Feyd winked at you and your heart skipped a beat at that. He could be adorable at times, you had to admit. It made you happy that you could finally experience this side of him. It was worth all the pain your injury had been causing you.
You lowered yourself some more, digging your fingers into his shoulders as he tightened the squeeze on your hips, surely bruising them, too. You hissed and shut your eyes as you threw your head back.
The pain mixed with pleasure, the overwhelming fulfilment with an endless desire to feel him even deeper, to fill you even further, to make you swell and heavy with his children. When you finally sat fully on his cock, you let out a moan of his name as your walls twitched and squeezed him.
“Easy, wife, take your time,” he reminded you. His hands were keeping you down, not letting you move for a while. He was giving you time to adjust to his size and you opened your eyes to look at him below you. You gasped at the admiration on his face. All those weeks of feeling unattractive suddenly vanished from your memory.
You were a daughter of your planet. Morana was known for its fertile soil like you would be known for bearing his heirs. You were his goddess at that moment but you didn’t feel the need to be cruel towards your subject.
“I want you closer,” you breathed out and he nodded, sitting up very carefully, making sure not to hurt you. Once his back rested on the pillow behind him, you clinged to his chest and joined your lips with his in a kiss as your hips began to move slowly.
Feyd’s hands moved your hips and helped you to find the right pace and rhythm. Soon enough you were bouncing on that big cock with ease that came with desire. Feeling that you didn’t require so much of his help anymore, one of your husband’s hands moved down and rested on your bandage. His touch was unusually gentle and you moaned into his mouth, not breaking the hungry kiss even for a second.
After all those weeks of being left abandoned and touch starved, you just wanted to devour him. Nothing mattered; certainly not your wound, not the sweat, not the exhaustion. Your only goal was to chase the high that was coming.
Feeling that your movements became chaotic, Feyd cupped your face and groaned into your mouth as his own hips picked up the pace, taking control over you. You trembled and let out muffled cries of pleasure as he rutted roughly inside of you through your orgasm. Not long after you felt his thick black cum spilling deep inside of you as both of your bodies relaxed.
You broke the kiss and tried to catch your breath. Your husband wiped all the tears off of your cheeks and laid your head on his shoulder gently. You hugged his chest and cuddled him like that in silence.
“Do you remember what you promised?” He asked and you furrowed your brows. “That next time you want to train, you’re coming to me.”
“Yes,” you smiled to yourself. “But I am only learning,” you added, shyly. “I don’t want you to laugh at me.”
“If you’re a quick learner with the blade like you are in the bedroom, then you will soon laugh at me,” he assured you and caressed your back as you giggled into the crook of his neck.
“You’re a quick learner, too, Feyd-Rautha,” you looked up as he looked down, confused. “How to be a husband, I mean,” you explained.
You watched the servant girls painting your husband’s beautiful body with the black war paint as you caressed your swollen bump through the fabric of your dress. They finished their job and took a few steps back with their heads kept low. One of them handed you the bowl of the black liquid and you approached him as he smiled.
You dipped your finger in the paint and drew one of the symbols of your people on his chest. He looked down, questioningly.
“And what does this one mean?” He asked.
“It ensures good favours of the gods and victory in battle,” you explained softly.
“You know that he hates it when you do that,” Feyd reminded you. Baron Harkonnen would prefer you to become a Harkonnen and give up your old ways completely instead of teaching Feyd more about your culture.
“I know,” you looked up. “That’s why I do that.”
In the beginning you had been indifferent to his uncle but the more you found out about him and the damage he had done to your husband, the more you hated him.
Feyd nodded at you and leaned in to place a kiss upon your forehead.
“Na-Baron, five minutes,” one of the servants reminded him of the time left.
“I will bring you the hearts of my enemies,” he cupped your face as he looked deep into your eyes while making a promise.
“I have only one enemy,” you reminded him, “and he is not in the arena today.”
Feyd nodded quietly. He put his hand on your swollen belly and caressed it.
“Take care of your mother for me for a while,” he said and you chuckled with an eye-roll.
You watched him put the last pieces of clothes and take his blades. You couldn’t wait for the day when he’d become The Baron and he wouldn’t have to do it anymore. Even though the fights were fixed, you still feared for his life. And to think you had used to find this practice unhonourable. Now you were glad that his combats were cheated.
“Slava, Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen,” you blessed him.
He turned his head around for the last time to wink at you playfully and give you his black grin.
“I’ll be right back.”
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Sharing is Caring (I)
𓂅 𓄹 Summary: A mission has both Miguel and you sharing a room… what could possibly go wrong?
𓂅 𓄹 Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x spider-woman!reader
18+. ‘There’s only one bed’ trope. Dry humping. Fangs. Wet dreams. Love bites. Miguel in denial of his lust for the reader, but secretly touch starved.
You glanced at the watch on your wrist, suppressing a yawn.
Three in the morning had rolled around, and there were still no signs of the anomaly. Miguel O’Hara stood by the hotel window, gazing into the distance through narrowed and ever-watchful crimson eyes.
He was also not showing any signs of stopping for the night, but you were already far too sleep deprived to go on.
“Miguel…” you said miserably, sinking into the bouncy matress. “We should get some rest. We’ve been at this for hours…”
His face hardened slightly. “Get some rest, then. I’m staying up.”
Impossible man.
He was as relentless as he was stubborn. Once he had his mind set on something, there wasn’t much one could do to talk him out of it. He always had to have his way.
“We have sensors scattered all around the perimeter,” you said, feeling every last ounce of patience leave your body. “Any movement and we’ll be on it.”
This time he turned his head to you. “Sleep,” he grumbled, positioning himself closer to the windowsill, but just out of range of the raindrops that began to fall hard outside.
You exhaled in defeat. “Suit yourself.”
The bed squeaked as you moved to find a comfortable spot, eagerly flopping onto your back, facing the bland ceiling of the poorly lit room.
“The bed’s really comfy,” you said with a sigh of sheer relief, feeling the soft material dig into your sore muscles pleasingly. “You’re missing out.”
“The bed’s too small,” he said simply.
Right.
Trust Miguel O’Hara to find flaws in anything whenever it's convenient.
"Don’t be ridiculous," you scoffed, earning an intense glare from him. “We can totally fit here.”
“Uncomfortably, yes.”
You bit the inside or your cheek to keep yourself from mumbling a snarky reply, deciding not to push it and dive into a never-ending argument. You knew better than to do that with him.
Miguel suffered from chronic last word syndrome.
You exhaled noisily, as you pulled the soft sheet up to your shoulder before flipping onto your side to face the wall, ready for a much well deserved break from this boring mission.
Thankfully, the pouring rain outside presented itself perfectly, lulling you into a state of relaxation, and you felt your eyelids heavy as you drifted into sleep.
You weren't sure what time you awoke, but the room was now engulfed in darkness, with only the moonlight casting a dim light through the window.
The bed was dipped lightly behind you, and you glanced over your shoulder to find Miguel sleeping on his side. He had retracted his digital suit and you were now faced with his broad bare back.
You had never been in such close proximity with him, let alone in this state of nakedness, which had your stomach do a sudden flip. But both of you were beyond tired, so you told yourself to go back to sleep.
But then you heard it.
A soft grunt coming from him made you look over again. The muscles in his back twitched lightly with each breath. But something was off. his breathing was harsh and erratic, as if he was in a state is distress.
Another low and throaty moan was heard.
Was he having a nightmare?
He suddenly flipped onto his back and you were met with his bare chest, covered midway by the flimsy sheet you both shared. His face was twisted into a light frown, eyed firmly shut, but mouth parted, revealing his protruding fangs.
That was odd... Miguel wouldn't bare his fangs lightly unless the occasion called for it during missions.
But then your eyes traveled down his body to find a tent rising in his lower half, and your eyes nearly bulged out.
Miguel O'Hara's cock was pressing against the fabric proud and erect. The faint lighting was enough for you to make out the growing wet stain. From time to time, his hips would buck instinctively, causing a few beads of precum to seep through.
Oh.
You had nearly forgotten Miguel wore nothing under his suit.
Your mouth went suddenly very dry at the realisation that Miguel was actually having a wet dream.
Maybe you were the one dreaming, because the alternative just felt too much to be true. Witnessing the Miguel O'Hara in such a vulnerable and intimate position was not something you had on your bucket list, for sure.
Did you find him attractive? Yes. Would you gladly fuck all that grumpiness out of him if given the chance? Definitely.
So now you were torn on what to do. Should you wake him up? Should you just try to ignore the pant and grunts that kept spilling from his mouth? Should you also ignore the way your clit was now pulsing?
But the answer came with him moaning your name.
Your eyes widened and you gasped, immediately flinching away from him, turning to face the wall, heart drumming fast and in unison with your clit.
Before you could fully process the initial shock, a second one quickly followed as you felt him shift next to you to swing a strong arm over your waist. The top half of your suit had ridden upwards from all the commotion, and goosebumps immediately spread across the point of contact between him and you.
"Miguel..." you whispered, too afraid to make a sudden move.
He hummed softly, his large hand pressed flat against your tummy, as he pulled you closer into him, his breath hitting a sensitive spot just below your ear. But what truly made you jolt against him was when his cock came into contact with your ass.
At this point, you knew you had to brace yourself somehow, because you were too far gone to fight the overwhelming wave of pleasure that washed over you. It hit you slowly at first, and then all at once, as he slowly jerked his hips into you.
You were essentially trapped between his large body and the wall, leaving you with no choice but to press your hand against the latter, trying to steady yourself as he picked up the pace.
He mumbled your name under his laboured breath once again, rubbing his cock harder against you, the unmistakable spill of precum now coating your skin.
Your eyes were fixed on your fingers that soon curled into a fist against the wall from the jaw-dropping sensation, and you couldn't stop yourself from undulating your body to match his.
"Miguel..." you groaned in a miserable attempt at waking him up.
His hand slid up and below your covered breasts, his thumb dipping inside the tight fabric of your suit.
You immediately clenched around nothing, and felt your own wetness drip into your underwear.
There was only so much one could take. The voice of reason inside you was telling you to put an end to this right away, but you were not one to listen to reason, especially when you had Miguel O'hara humping you desperately.
His hand slid down to the hem of the bottom half of your suit and began to tug at it.
That was enough to snap you from the haze of lust. "Miguel!"
The reaction was immediate and you found yourself quickly being flipped onto your back and pressed firmly into the mattress, arms pinned above your head, as a breathless Miguel positioned himself on top of you, baring his fangs.
"Miguel... it's me," you said, eyed meeting his crimson ones. "You were..." your voice immediately died down as you felt the weight of the underside of his cock pressed firmly against your covered clit.
The grip on your wrists loosened and his eyes narrowed as confusion settled on his face. "What..."
You were trying your best to ignore his heavy cock, but failed miserably with a whimper, eyes snapping shut and your back arching reflexively.
Miguel grunted from the friction, and you felt him press further into you. "What are you doing?"
With a roll of your hips, you moaned. "Me? You were having a wet dream about me and dry humping me..."
His face drew near yours. "Nonsense."
"It's true..." you whispered shakily, yearning for more.
He moaned again, his balance faltering momentarily, head dropping next to your face. "I would never think of you that way."
You weren't entirely sure why he was now saying this, while still firmly pressed against you.
"Why not?"
He grazed his fangs along your neck. "You're too annoying."
"Then how do you explain that hard cock?"
"Biology," he groaned, hips jerking slowly.
Somehow, his refusal to accept his lust for you only served to fuel yours for him. His subconscious had dragged him earlier into a wet dream about you, and he wouldn't never be able to square this circle.
"So we should stop," you teased, dragging your soaked suit along his cock.
He stilled you with one hand, teasing your skin with his fangs once more. "Yes."
"Then stop."
"Hmm."
His lips latched on to your pulse point, sucking lightly, as one hand beside your head held his weight above you, and the other snaking in between your bodies.
"Let me just feel it... with nothing in the way," he grumbled after tearing away from your skin, and probably marking you with a hickey.
"Why?" you moaned, feeling your clit throbbing uncontrollably. "I'm too annoying."
He pulled the fabric down at once, visibly impatient. "Too annoying."
And when you felt his cock settle between your soaked folds, you jerked with a gasp. Miguel shuddered and glanced down along the length of your body. You followed his motion and were presented with the most alluring sight ever.
His cock lay neatly settled against your, strings of precum drooling from the tip and onto your skin, letting you know his body craved more.
"We should stop now," he said with a feral grunt rumbling from his throat.
You began to roll your hips to have your clit slide effortlessly along his cock, wet sounds filling the room. "You don't want to."
The way he snapped into you next almost had the tip at your entrance, earning a gasp from you.
"I do."
"Then why don't you?" you pouted, caressing his face and having him lean into your touch.
"Biology."
And as he closed the remaining distance with a searing kiss, his tip slipped past without much obstacle as your wetness mixed with his made it way easier. You felt the air in your lungs being crushed by the sudden stretch and you immediately parted your lips from his to let out a strained groan.
He was too thick.
"Just the tip, then," you panted against his lips.
He remained still inside you. "You can take more than that."
Probably, but all the teasing and unintentional foreplay had dragged you so close to the edge you feared you might combust before he buried himself balls deep.
Miguel proceeded to plant persuasive pecks along your jawline and down to your neck. "You can bite down on my shoulder, if it helps."
Your eyes widened at the proposal, and you nearly jerked into him, the promise of struggling to take all of him being way too alluring.
"Okay... but I'm too close..."
"I know."
He positioned himself and your lips brushed against his shoulder, before sinking your teeth into the flesh, and that was enough to signal him to slide in deeper.
You tried to easy the pressure on his skin, but the stretch was too overwhelming and he next thing you knew, your fingers were clawing at his back.
"Stop clenching...." he moaned and you detected despair in his voice.
You would if you could, but the friction was too good to turn down.
He growled in your ear, one hand gripping your knee to further spread you open for him. “Almost there, cariño..."
And just as you were finally beginning to easy your grip around him to fully accommodate him, the obnoxious sound of an alarm flared across the room, lighting up your travel watches.
Fuck...
The fucking anomaly...
Part 2
Masterlist
#miguel o’hara x reader#miguel o’hara smut#miguel o’hara#miguel o’hara x you#miguel ohara smut#miguel o’hara x fem!reader#miguel ohara x reader#spiderman 2099#spiderman 2099 x reader#miguel x reader
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18+ mdni
Theodore - Theodore Nott
mine part 2 - SMUT ALL THE SMUT
song partially inspired - daddy issued by the nieghbourhood
warnings - oral (f recieving), hand on neck, theo holding your wrists, dom!theo, a little aftercare, slaps on ass/thigh
You were his baby girl and he wouldn't let you forget it, so frail. He loved the control he had over you.
✦ . ⁺ . ✦ . ⁺ . ✦
Dragging you into his dorm room with a force only Theo could possess. He locked the door behind you while spinning you round to hold you against his hips.
Trailing his hands with prominent viens between your perky breasts and down your stomach he gripped at your body randomly as a little reminder.
You were aching for his touch, honestly thinking you've never been this desperate in your life. He knew this and made it very clear he wasn't going to be quick.
Theo loved teasing, he especially loved when you used his full name. 'Theodore' was what he always wanted to be called while he was fucking your brains out or 'treating you' as he called it.
''Now i think its very imortant that i remind you who the fuck you belong to, isn't that right little girl'' he smirked ferociously.
Theo knew exacatly what turned you on, he knew you better than anyone else. Inside and out (literally).
The love of your life suddenly threw you onto his dorm bed. You gripped at the sheets with anticipation, not knowing what he was going to do next.
But you should've guessed...
Theo rushly pulled you to the edge of the bed, putting your legs over his muscular shoulders. Ripping your panties apart with all the determination in the world. He ploughed his face into your dripping pussy, licking and sucking messily. The one way Theo loved to make you cum was eating you out, your juices covering his tongue. Maybe he'd add some fingering if he was feeling generous (which wasn't very often).
''Theo... please'' you begged him to make you cum.
Stopping, with a harsh slap to your upper thigh. ''Excuse you. What do you call me?'' He wasn't going to keep going until you understood he wasn't playing this time.
''Theodore'' you whimpered.
Putting his face back on your cunt ''Better'' he mastered.
Theo let go of your pussy which was in desprate need of his touch. Turning you over and pulling you onto your knees, face down, he pulled your hands behind your back as he knows you move too much.
With his other hand he undid his belt and slowly pulled it out of the loops on his black jeans. Placing it beside you where you could see it 'just in case'.
''Theodore stop teasing'' you had never been this in need of him and his teasing wasn't helping.
''Not a chance baby'' he laughed at your desperation.
Moving onto his jeans which fit perfectly round his body, he embarrassingly struggled to undo the button and zip with just one hand. But he wasn't going to let you know that.
Eventually he manged, pulling his jeans down to his knees. He grabbed his thick shaft and teased your opening with just the tip.
''THEO'' you screamed at him.
A fast and hard slap reaches your ass. ''Do i have to remind you every fucking time?''
''No sorry... Theodore i need you.'' you didn't know how to get him to fuck you faster.
He leant forward and snuck a hand round your neck nibbling your ear lobe.
''Beg me'' he whispered in your ear, slightly moaning.
You started begging in every way you knew how, moaning and squirming (which he put a stop to quickly). He let you beg for a couple minutes before slowly pushing deep inside.
He started pounding slow and steading but speeding up quickly.
His pounding lasting, still grabbing your neck.
With a couple slaps and grabs to your ass with his free hand, it didn't take you long to reach your climax...
Theo could tell you were close and, wanting to cum with you, he decided he would let you cum today.
''Cum with me'' Theo was demading more than anything.
With some moans and a bit more fucking, you came together, moans intertwined. Theo moaning, and spilling out some 'fucks' and 'shits', directly in your ear as he hadn't left your side. Hand still on your neck.
He released his hand from your neck, pushing himself up, and slowly pulled out as you were super sensitive. You collapsed on the bed and Theo snuggled up to your side hand around your chest cupping your face stroking gently.
''You did so good baby'' he smiles as he says this.
You cuddled like this for the rest of the evening before fianlly getting up to change into pyjamas. You stayed in Theo's dorm that night cuddling while he said sweet nothing to you as you fell asleep.
#harry potter fandom#harry potter#slytherin#theodore nott#slytherin boys#theodore nott x you#theodore nott smut#theodore nott x reader
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Always yours | Chris Sturniolo
Chris Sturniolo x reader
Summary: Where Y/N and Chris are secretly in love, but Chris is the one that acts shy around her; OR 4 times Chris loved Y/N from afar and 1 time he didn't.
Warning: None.
Requested?: Yes, by anon.
Author's note: That is my work, I DON'T authorize any plagiarism! | English isn't my first language, so I'm sorry if there's any grammar error.
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Y/N and Nick had been inseparable since they were children, having grown up together in Boston, their bond of friendship was the strongest among all others. Nick was the type of boy who exuded energy and extroversion, while Y/N was more thoughtful and quiet, and the two of them fit together perfectly.
So, when the triplets decided to move to Los Angeles to better advance their career on YouTube, the girl went with them. Her high school years were over, and, as luck would have it, she had received her acceptance letter to the LA college she wanted to attend.
Obviously, her closeness with Nick throughout her life brought her close to Matt and Chris equally, as the three of them came as a complete package to any relationship, regardless of which trype it was.
The only difference was that with Chris, things were different. A strange and unfamiliar feeling grew more and more inside Y/N's heart whenever he was around, making her blush and stumble over her own words. It didn't take her long to realize that she was madly in love with the youngest triplet, but the fear of rejection prevented her from confessing her feelings.
What Y/N didn't know was that Chris also had deep feelings for her. However, he was also paralyzed by the fear of ruining his friendship with Y/N, or worse, destabilizing the girl's friendship with his brother if his feelings weren't reciprocated. So the two were content to flirt shyly and exchanging furtive glances and meaningful smiles that spoke volumes about their feelings.
But there was something more, something that everyone but Y/N seemed to notice. When she was around, Chris transformed completely. His posture softened, his smile became more genuine, and his eyes shone with a special tenderness reserved just for her. He became more embarrassed and cautious, as if he was afraid of messing up in front of the person he secretly loved.
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1. Shyness
The sun was beginning to peek shyly through the window curtains when Y/N woke up. She snuggled under the sheets for a moment, enjoying the feeling of comfort. With a soft yawn, the girl got up from the bed and stretched momentarily before putting on the Fresh Love hoodie that was on her gaming chair, throwing her hair up in a quick ponytail.
Y/N walked down the stairs of the floor she shared with Nick towards the kitchen, following the tempting aroma of fresh coffee and warm toast.
Inside the kitchen, Matt was talking about a movie he watched the night before, Saltburn, while Chris laughed loudly at the faces of disgust and strangeness Nick displayed at certain scenes.
"Wait, you reminded me of a TikTok I saw yesterday!" Exclaimed Chris, his eyes shining with excitement. "It was from a guy who apparently wrote a song about a girl who looks innocent but ha-"
Before he could continue, Y/N entered the room with a smile on her face.
"Good morning, boys!"
Chris's face instantly turned a bright shade of red, and he swallowed hard, abruptly stopping talking. He looked down at his plate with a sudden intensity, as if he were trying to concentrate on each bite of his food.
"Good morning, Y/N." Nick smiled, breaking the brief moment of awkward silence. Matt just nodded, chewing on the piece of toast he had in his mouth.
Y/N approached the counter behind the table, noticing the sudden discomfort in the air but choosing not to comment on it.
"What was the TikTok about, Chris?" She asked softly with her back turned to them, standing on tiptoes and opening one of the cabinets above the stove, retrieving her favorite mug.
"I... Um." He fake coughed, clearing his throat. "I think I... forgot." The last word came out in a subtle whisper.
Y/N smiled, feeling the skin of her face burn at the thought of how shy the boy became in her presence, shaking her head quickly to shake off the thoughts when Nick started talking again, bringing up another topic.
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2. Admiring from afar
The Space Camp Wellness studio was filled with vibrant energy as Nick, Chris, Matt, and Y/N prepared for yet another promotional photo shoot. Nick, as the founder of the lip balm brand, was busy adjusting the final details, while Y/N was preparing to be one of the models in that series of pictures that would be used to promote the new line.
Sitting on the other side of the room, Chris, Matt, and Nick exchanged hushed murmurs among themselves, discussing the details of what the next steps for Nick's brand would be. However, to Chris, the sounds seemed distant, completely muffled to his ears.
His eyes remained fixed on the girl, watching every movement she made as she changed her positions. He couldn't shake the feeling that the whole world seemed brighter when she was around, his heart beating wildly against his chest.
"Chris, you're drooling again." Matt teased, giving the boy a playful poke in the shoulder.
Chris blinked, brought back to reality by his words. He blushed slightly, embarrassed at being caught.
"Shut the fuck up, I'm not drooling." He barked back, trying to hide his flushed state.
"Oh, come on, Chris. Everyone knows you're head over heels in love with Y/N." Nick laughed loudly, exchanging knowing glances with Matt.
Chris squirmed uncomfortably in his seat, trying to find a suitable response to his brothers' teasing. He knew he couldn't deny his feelings for Y/N, but he also didn't want to make the situation more awkward than it already was.
"You two are ridiculous." He grumbled, looking at Y/N again.
His eyes widened when he saw her already watching them, her gaze carrying a curiosity as to why they were laughing so loud - not that it was something strange coming from the brothers.
The brunette quickly turned his neck to the side, focusing his eyes on a random place while scratching his stubble, gulping loudly.
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3. Acts of service
The frigid air of Boston circulated Y/N as she walked alongside the triplets, enveloped by the welcoming atmosphere of their hometown. The night was particularly cold, with a biting breeze that made everyone shrink into themselves for warmth.
"Oh my God, it's so cold!" Y/N commented, rubbing her arms in an attempt to warm them a little.
Chris, who was next to her on the outside of the sidewalk, immediately noticed her cheeks flushed by the wind. He frowned, feeling a tightening of concern in his chest when he saw her body shaking slightly, being covered only by a long-sleeved blouse and thin leggings.
"Here." The boy said, taking off his hockey jersey and offering it to her. "You can use this to protect yourself from the cold."
Y/N widened her eyes in surprise, stopping her steps abruptly.
"But what about you, Chris? You're going to be cold-" Chris shook his head, cutting her off.
"Don't worry about me. I can handle the cold better than you can. Besides, you need to stay warm or you will cath the flu."
Finally convinced, but still reluctant, Y/N accepted the jersey, feeling the comforting warmth that emanated from the fabric as she took it in her hands. She smiled wide at Chris, slipping it over her shoulders, his Dior parfume automatically filling her nostrils, warming her heart.
Chris watched in silence as Y/N wrapped herself in his jersey, name and number clearly visible on her back, lightly covered by the strands of her loose hair. An intense blush took over his cheeks, a feeling of heat different from the cold taking over his body.
He felt his heart speed up to a thousand miles per hour, pressing his lips into a thin line to stop the involuntary smile.
"It looks good on you. Better than on me."
༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺
4. Distraction
The kitchen of the triplets' house was full of energy as the brothers prepared to record another Wednesday video for their YouTube channel. Nick adjusted the camera and arranged the equipment while Chris and Matt arranged themselves in the two chairs behind the wooden table, facing the tripod.
Chris, especially, was beaming with enthusiasm, his words flowing with energy as he addressed the camera after Nick positioned himself behind the two, giving the go-ahead to begin recording.
"What's up, guys? Welcome back to our YouTube channel! Today, we have a-"
He was in the middle of introducing the theme when Y/N passed through the divide between the living room and kitchen, her hands holding her phone and her eyes fixed on the screen, heading towards the stairs that led to her shared floor with Nick.
Chris's gaze instinctively shifted towards her, his heart racing almost automatically as his pupils seemed to take the shape of a little heart, his eyes following her every step and his mouth opening slightly.
His brothers, noticing Chris's sudden distraction, began laughing, teasing him as he struggled to regain focus.
"Wow, Chris, I think someone's a little distracted." Matt, who was sitting next to him, joked, receiving a hard slap on the shoulder in response.
Chris blushed a red hue, embarrassed at being caught. He rubbed the back of his neck, trying to hide his state as he tried to remember what he was about to say.
"Hm..." He cleared his throat, still a little disconcerted. "Where did I stop?"
Nick laughed louder, stumbling back and slamming his back against the stove, cursing loudly as he tried to steady his balance.
"You were talking about the challenge we're going to do today, but I think you were more interested in keeping up with Y/N than recording the video." Matt scoffed, smirking to the lens.
Chris shook his head, adjusting the cap over his hair in an act of nervousness, his mind still a little clouded by the sight of Y/N.
Needless to say, he got almost every picture of the challenge wrong, his mind replaying the image of the girl he loved over and over for the rest of the day.
༻﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡﹡༺
5. When he finally makes a move
The night silently enveloped the house, as Chris found himself lost in his own thoughts, his body lying flat on his bed and his eyes fixed on the ceiling. He knew it was time to finally confront his feelings for Y/N and express the love he had been secretly holding onto for so long. However, he was feeling completely lost on how to do it.
With his heart beating wildly in his chest, the boy decided to seek advice from Matt. His brother always knew what to say. Chris walked quickly up the stairs, going to Matt's bedroom door, knocking gently with his closed fist against the wood before turning the handle, opening it.
"Matt?" He asked, his voice slightly shaking with anxiety as his eyes darted around the room, quickly finding the boy in his gaming chair, playing something on his computer. "Can I talk to you?"
Matt looked up, frowning in concern when he noticed the boy's distressed eyes.
"Of course, did something happen?"
Chris entered the room, closing the door behind him and walking over to the bed, sitting on the edge in front of his computer desk.
"Nothing happened, I just... need some advice." Chris began, scratching the back of his neck in embarrassment at being so vulnerable. "I've finally accepted that I love Y/N, but I don't know how to tell her... I'm scared of ruining everything, Matt."
Matt smiled slightly, taking the headphones off his head and placing it on the keyboard before moving the chair so that he was facing Chris.
"Why don't you write her a letter?" Matt shrugged, crossing his arms and watching his reactions.
"A letter? Isn't that too old-fashioned?" The youngest frowned, pushing his bangs back with his right hand, expanding his vision.
"With every girl you've ever been with, you've always been direct, unrestricted, and unromantic. But with Y/N it's different, right?"
"She's not just another one, Matt." Chris rolled his eyes, feeling disgusted as he remembered all the times that he tried to erase his feelings for Y/N.
"Exactly, so treat her like she isn't, be romantic and different, surprise her."
It took days for Chris to finally have the courage to open his heart in a letter. He wasn't used to revealing his feelings often, so writing them down on paper was harder than it seemed. But the day finally arrived, and surprisingly, it didn't take more than an hour for Chris to finish his words.
The brunette spent the rest of that day wandering around his room while carrying the letter hidden in the front pocket of his hoodie, looking for the ideal moment to give it to Y/N.
His courage to hand it to her face to face was almost non-existent, and that's why he used the only moment when the girl moved from her room to Nick's. With shaking hands, he placed the letter on Y/N's bed, leaving it in a place where she would certainly find it.
One last look at it, and Chris turned abruptly, running back to his own room with his face flushed with shyness and anxiety.
Meanwhile, Y/N returned to her room, unaware of the surprise that awaited her. Her heart beat with strange anticipation as she approached, immediately noticing the letter carefully left there.
Hesitantly, Y/N took it, feeling the weight of the paper in her hands. She took a deep breath before opening it, her eyes widening comically as she recognized the handwriting, her eyes running quickly through the words with a mix of surprise and excitement.
As she read Chris's passionate declaration, Y/N's heart seemed to expand in her chest, overflowing with all the best feelings.
To my Y/N,
I am completely sure that I have loved you since the moment I understood the meaning of the word love. I remember the day I noticed that I felt something different about you; we were 14 years old and you showed up at our house to spend the day with Nick, and as soon as you saw me, you smiled the most beautiful and wide smile I've ever seen, taking away all my breath.
Whenever I go to sleep I think about you and, maybe, an us, wondering if you feel the same. And whenever I wake up, I can only imagine what it would be like to have you on the other side of the bed, forever in my arms.
What would it be like to have you? This probably sounds cliché and ridiculous, but I created a whole imagination of what it would be like, and I know it would be a dream come true.
And I tried so hard to resist it, out of pure fear and cowardice of losing you and your company, but resisting you became my most difficult task.
Everything about you makes me feel more alive and lighter. The sound of your voice seems to silence all the noise in my head, and your smile erases all the bad smoke in the world around me. And suddenly there's only you.
If you gave me the chance, I would make you feel everything and much more than you already made me feel.
Say the word and I'll be your yours.
Always,
Chris.
Y/N remained static for long minutes, letting the magnitude of what she had just read sink into her heart and mind. She felt her fingertips numb and her heart racing so much that she was almost sure it would jump out of her chest and run to wherever Chris was.
And then, with renewed determination, the girl got up from her bed, running downstairs towards Chris's room, goosebumps rising through her body in anticipation.
Upon arriving at the door of the room she dreamed of being able to live in one day, Y/N raised her closed fist, knocking it against the wood with nervousness, anxiously waiting for an answer.
When Chris opened it, their eyes met in a moment of pure connection, and Y/N knew it was the right thing to do.
"Chris." She began, her voice soft but shaky. "I love you too."
༻✦༺ ༻✧༺ ༻✦༺
My asks are always open. My requests are closed at the moment since I have many to work in, but you can always send questions or simply talk to me 🩷💋
And remember to treat people with kindness always!
~ taglist:
@lustfulslxt @ladybunny44 @worldlxvlys @earth2starkey @remussbitch @freshloveforthefit @il0vebeingdelulu @sturniolowhore @mimi-luvzyu @alorsxsturn @urfavgirllyyyyy @domizzzsstuff @sturnizd @hearts4chris @cupidzsq @dracoflaco @leah-loves-lilies @tylerthecreatorsrealwife @rootbeerworshiper @junnniiieee07 @elliesturniolo1 @sstvrnioloo @lightsgore @gidgett11037 @sturniolho @ksskianshd @ccolleenn @sturniolo-lover1317 @soimightlikeoldmen69 @hrtyjy @ldr-sl0t @breeloveschris @bellasfavbisexual @its-jennarose @sainzzsturns @ecliphttlunar @thebottledwatersupplier @bellasfavbisexual @soso-scarlettolivia
(If you want to be added to the taglist, please comment here)
#chris sturniolo#matt sturniolo#nick sturniolo#sturniolo x reader#sturniolo triplets#x reader#sturniolo#chris sturniolo fanfiction#chris sturniolo fanfic#chris sturniolo x you#chris sturniolo x reader#christopher owen sturniolo#christopher sturniolo x reader#christopher sturniolo#chris fanfic#chris au#chris#chrissy#chris sturniolo fluff#chris sturniolo x reader fluff#love letters
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Regina's Barbie (Regina George X Reader)
Masterlist
Request Something!
Summary: You’re Regina George’s latest project, but her reasoning for fixing you up is completely different than what you think.
A/N: a little drabble based on this ask that i answered a couple days ago bc it keeps getting interaction and lowkey i cant stop thinking about the concept ugh
***
“Hold still.” Regina scolded for what felt like the hundredth time, hand holding your jaw firmly to keep you in place while she put blush on your cheeks.
“Sorry.” You whispered, looking at the wall behind her so you didn’t have to face her intense gaze.
When Regina approached you one day, twirling her perfect blonde hair around her finger as she asked you if you wanted to hang out, you thought it was a prank. It had to have been, because there was no other reason why Regina George would even consider getting close to a ‘nobody’ like you. But when you stuttered out a response, her grin seemed genuine when telling you to meet you at her car after school. Sure enough, she was sitting in her car with the rest of the Plastics, beckoning you to come over and sit in the seat behind her.
Gretchen and Karen seemed to be a bit confused by your presence but didn’t question Regina. They welcomed you, but didn’t go out of their way to make conversation with you while Regina drove to the mall.
When she parked, Regina basically pulled you into shops by the arm, her friends rushing behind you. She thrusted some sweater into your hands, telling you that you just had to try it on. And when you tried telling her you couldn’t afford it, she rolled her eyes, took a credit card out of her purse, and dragged you to a fitting room.
And now you were here, perched on Regina’s bed while she did your makeup. She had insisted that the way you did it was all wrong and that you needed to know the proper way to do it. Gretchen and Karen weren’t here, which surprised you a bit. But you knew better than to question Regina.
“Okay, now you need lipgloss,” Regina said, looking through some of the glosses she had bought you. She opened one and looked at you. “Pucker up.”
You gulped at the demand, but did as she said. Regina grabbed your jaw again, a bit more gently this time, as she swiped the wand over your lips. She bit her lip in concentration as she stared at your mouth.
“Perfect.” She muttered, capping the gloss and taking you to one of her many mirrors.
You hardly recognized yourself, but Regina definitely didn’t do a bad job. She smiled at you through the mirror.
“What do you think?” She asked, leaning her head against yours a bit.
“I look…” It was hard to find an end to your sentence with the way Regina looked at you, like you were a piece of meat. “Pretty.”
“Hell yeah, you do.” She fiddled with your hair, trying to put it in a style she thought would be more suitable. “Oh my god, I totally forgot. We’re going to a party later, so we gotta find something for you to wear.”
“What?” You were a bit taken aback, not expecting to go to a party tonight. Especially with Regina. “Couldn’t I just wear this?”
Regina laughed, and it didn’t seem like that fake, almost mocking laugh she’d do when people tried to be funny with her. It sounded genuine, like she was actually amused by your question.
“No way, Y/n! Wait here, I think I have something you can wear.” She sped into her closet, leaving you to stand awkwardly in her room. Luckily, she came back quickly with a two-piece outfit. Regina went behind you, hands holding the clothes up to your body. “You’d look so good in this. Besides, it’s better than, like, anything you own.”
She kissed your cheek before sending you off to the bathroom to change. It was so quick that you barely registered what had happened until you were already switching your clothes for hers. You caught sight of yourself in the mirror, seeing a faint lip print on your cheekbone. You decided to leave it, not wanting Regina to get mad at you for messing up the makeup she spent practically forever putting on you.
When you left the bathroom, Regina was fixing up her lipstick in the mirror. She turned to you and smiled a bit, straightening up a bit.
“See, I told you you’d look good.” She took your clothes, throwing them on the bed, before noticing the mark she left on you. Regina stepped closer to see it better, soon looking at you with the same hungry look from before. “Keep that, it’s hot.” Then she walked away to change her shoes.
You took a deep breath. This was gonna be a long night.
***
Part 2
#agaypanic#regina george x reader#regina george#mean girls#mean girls x reader#rachel mcadams#rachel mcadams x reader#renee rapp#renee rapp x reader
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Love in the Air
Pairing: Rooster x Female Reader
Summary: You weren't expecting anything interesting or exciting to happen on your flight from Virginia to San Diego. But what happens when you decide to shoot your shot with the handsome stranger sitting in front of you on the plane?
Word Count: 12.5k
Author’s Note: Thank you so much to my dear friend, @ryebecca for giving me the idea for this one! I've been mulling it over in my brain for a while now, and the super adorable Netflix movie Love at First Sight gave me some much-needed inspiration to finally see it through to completion. This story exists outside of the Mr. & Mrs. Bradshaw Universe, which is sort of a first for me, so I hope you all enjoy!
Warnings: Travel anxiety, some very mild angst, discussions of parental death, brief language, lots of fluff.
If you had to rank your preferred modes of transportation, flying would probably be at the bottom of the list, beat only perhaps by public bus or bicycle. It seemed that no matter how hard you tried to make it as smooth and easy a journey as possible, your experiences at the airport always turned into one catastrophe after another.
Your flight this morning was supposed to take off at 9:30am, which meant that you had scheduled the start of your day to ensure that you would be at the airport no later than 7:15, accounting for traffic and long lines at check-in and security. That, of course, meant that you had to leave your best friend, Katie’s house in Fredericksburg at 5:45 on the dot in order to make the sixty-one mile trip to Charlottesville-Albemarle Airport, and that was being generous. If the two of you stopped for coffee—which Katie insisted was a must—that alone had the potential to derail your plans, which had you nervously fiddling with the bracelet you never took off, the one your dad had given you as a gift for your high school graduation.
“Relax,” Katie laughed, taking her eyes off the road for only a moment to reach out and squeeze your hands reassuringly, halting your anxious movements. “You’re going to get there with plenty of time to spare. There’s literally no one on earth who’s a more responsible flier than you. Have you ever even come close to missing a flight?”
“No,” you admitted sheepishly, taking a small sip of your hazelnut iced coffee. It did little to calm your nerves, but it was one of the best iced coffees you’d ever tasted.
“Of course you haven’t,” Katie smiled, her eyes back in front of her as she signaled to merge into another lane. “So just take a deep breath and enjoy all this gorgeous fall foliage. I’m going to get you there without incident, I promise.”
Katie knew better than pretty much anyone how much flying tended to stress you out. The two of you had been attached at the hip since the first day of kindergarten. Your friendship had survived all the ups and down of adolescence, boy drama, the separation of going to colleges hundreds of miles apart, heartache, loss, and so much more. She was truly the sister you never had, and you couldn’t be more grateful to have her in your life. Even now that you were living in San Diego, and Katie and her husband had moved to Fredericksburg, Virginia for Josh’s job, nothing could keep the two of you apart.
Using a little bit of the vacation time you’d accumulated at work, you’d taken a long weekend to fly out and surprise Katie for her and Josh’s housewarming party. It had been months since you had seen your best friend in person, and the two of you had spent the past few days acting like a couple of high schoolers, staying up all night eating junk food and keeping poor Josh awake with your loud and hysterical fits of laughter.
You hadn’t realized just how lonely you’d been, all by yourself in San Diego, until you’d witnessed up close how cozy and happy Katie’s life in Virginia was.
It wasn’t that you were jealous of Katie, not by any means. She and Josh had met in college, and you were thrilled that your best friend in the whole world had found her person, the one who was going to be there to hold her hand through life and love her through every up and every down. You had even shed a few happy tears when Katie had confided in you this past weekend that she and Josh were finally trying for a baby.
You weren’t jealous, but you desperately longed for what she had. While Katie and Josh had been happily in love since sophomore year, your love life had been decidedly marked by one failed relationship after another. The most painful of which had been your last boyfriend, Andrew. That breakup had been what had propelled you to accept the job offer that had taken you to San Diego almost a year ago.
“Screw Andrew!” Katie had told you as she’d helped you pack up your entire life into a few suitcases and boxes. “You’re headed to the Hottie Capital of America!”
“I must have missed that moniker on the travel brochures,” you responded dryly, although it was the first time you’d felt the urge to laugh in weeks.
“Um, hello, missy. It’s literally called ‘Fightertown USA,’” Katie said, stopping what she was doing to turn and face you, hands on her hips. “You’re going to end up with some sexy fighter pilot, and I am literally going to wither away with envy,” she giggled, winking at you.
“Yeah, right,” you smiled despite yourself, nudging her playfully.
“It’s true,” Katie sighed, feigning dramatics as she draped a hand across her forehead and swooned onto your bed. “I can see it now. You’re going to make the cutest little Marine or Navy wife.”
And yet, for all of Katie’s confidence, there you were, a whole year later, just as single as you had been when you’d first arrived in Fightertown.
It wasn’t to say you were completely on your own. You’d made some really good friends at work, and you got along with all of your neighbors. You’d even gone on a few dates with some guys from North Island. But none that ever went anywhere.
Spending the weekend with Katie and Josh, being reminded of just how in love the two of them were, made you wonder if it was ever going to be your turn.
“You okay?” Katie asked, breaking your silent reverie as she took the exit leading towards the airport in Charlottesville. It wasn’t necessarily the closest airport, but it was the only one for today that offered the flight you needed to get back home. “You seem so quiet.”
“Hm? Oh, yeah,” you nodded distractedly, smiling as you took another sip of your iced coffee. “Just a little tired, I guess.”
How could you possibly tell your best friend that seeing her happiness caused an ache inside your chest that hurt like nothing else you’d ever known? You couldn’t. It made you feel guilty enough just to admit it to yourself.
“Feeling a little nervous about your flight?” she pressed, reaching for her own iced coffee as the car came to a halt at a red light. “I know it’s long, and you hate connecting flights, but I stuck some Benadryl packets in your bag, if that helps at all. It sucks that you have such a hard time sleeping on planes.”
Smiling, you leaned over and pressed an affectionate kiss to her cheek. What had you ever done to deserve such a good friend? And there you were, lamenting about all the things she had that you didn’t.
“You’re the best,” you told her sincerely, giving her shoulder a small squeeze. “I’m so glad I was able to get down here this weekend.”
Katie beamed brightly, reaching up to squeeze your hand before placing hers back on the steering wheel. “You’re telling me. It was the best surprise ever. I’m just sad I can’t keep you here longer.”
“I’ll be back soon,” you promised, trying to mentally calculate when you might be able to get time off from work again.
“Maybe you can come down for Christmas this year?” Katie suggested hopefully, glancing over at you with her big green eyes.
“Maybe,” you nodded, twisting your bracelet once more as you saw the signs for the airport approaching. “Or maybe I can fly you and Josh out to San Diego.”
“Oh, yes! Christmas on the beach? Sounds perfect,” Katie grinned, looking out for the sign for departing flights.
All too soon, Katie was pulling up in front of the Delta terminal where your flight would be taking off in just a few hours.
“See? Only 7:11! I got you here ahead of your insane schedule, even with the stop for coffee,” your best friend teased, a twinkle in her eye as she indicated the time on the dashboard.
“Yeah, yeah,” you waved her off, laughing out loud as she swatted your hand jokingly.
The two of you climbed out of the car to grab your luggage from the trunk. You’d done your best to pack lightly, which was never an easy task for you, even just for a weekend trip. But somehow, you’d managed to squeeze everything you needed into a carry-on bag. Well, that and a giant duffel that you were claiming was a purse.
“Ugh, goodbyes make me crazy,” Katie shook her head, clearly trying to hide the tears that were brimming in her eyes, which caused tears to spring to your eyes as the two of you reached for each other.
“I love you so much,” you told her, squeezing her tightly as she rocked you back and forth in her arms. “I’ll call you when I land.”
“Text me when you get to your gate,” she said, pulling back and taking your hands in hers. “And let me know if there are any cuties on your flight,” she added with a grin, waggling her eyebrows suggestively.
“I doubt I’m going to bag any cuties looking like this,” you countered sarcastically, indicating the yoga pants and oversized sweatshirt you’d donned that morning, as well as the messy bun you’d thrown your hair into.
“Shut up, you’re gorgeous no matter what,” Katie scolded you, swatting you on the butt. “Now get going. We wouldn’t want you being late or anything like that,” she joked.
You laughed as well, though your heart ached a bit as you grabbed the handle of your suitcase and began turning towards the doors of the terminal.
“Love you! Talk to you soon!” Katie called out, waving and blowing kisses.
You threw one more wave your best friend’s way, then disappeared inside the terminal, which was already fairly crowded despite the early hour.
As expected, despite the fact that you’d taken pains to get there early and make sure you were on top of everything, the unlucky cloud that seemed to follow you whenever you flew made its appearance once again.
You of course ended up on the slowest moving line at security, only to be heavily questioned by the TSA agent who seemed to be under the impression that you looked nothing like the photo on your driver’s license. Then, when you finally got to the security scanners, you set off the metal detector and had to be publicly groped by another sour-faced TSA agent. As if that wasn’t bad enough, your suitcase was “randomly selected” for extra testing and security checks.
Katie may have loved to tease you about it, but this was precisely the reason why you always left as early as you did to get to the airport.
By the time you were finally rolling your suitcase towards your gate, you were feeling more frazzled than ever. Naturally, the gate had changed since your boarding pass had been printed, and now you had to trek halfway across the airport to find the new one.
You wondered what it felt like to be one of those lucky travelers whose gate was right at the center of the terminal, right near all the restaurants and shops. It had never been you. Without fail, no matter where or when you were flying, your gate always ended up being at the farthest corner of the terminal.
When you finally arrived, triple checking that the gate number matched your flight information, you let out a heavy sigh as you grabbed an open seat at the end of the row. To your surprise, you found that you were seated right next to an open outlet. You never got that lucky.
Turns out, you really did never get that lucky. When you plugged your phone in, you found that it wasn’t charging. Evidently, the outlet was open because it didn’t actually work.
Muttering under your breath, you unplugged your charger and threw it back into your duffel bag. At least your phone was still on 74%. You’d much prefer to have it fully charged, but this would do until you could charge it on the plane.
Glancing down, you realized that you had missed a text from Katie.
At the gate yet???
Rolling your shoulders back and getting more comfortable in your seat, you opened up the message so that you could send a quick response.
Just got here. You’d think I was on the No Fly List with how long it took me to get here.
Katie must have made good time getting home, because it wasn’t long before your phone was buzzing with another text.
😂😂😂 Get yourself a drink!
Katie, it’s not even 9am…
So? A mimosa then!
You laughed, shaking your head. A mimosa didn’t actually sound like such a bad idea right now. Neither did a large iced coffee. But now that you’d finally made it to your gate, you didn’t feel like dragging all your stuff with you across the terminal once again. And you didn’t feel comfortable leaving your things behind, unattended or even in the care of a stranger. Maybe you’d just order one on the plane.
When your phone buzzed again in your lap, you looked down and saw that it was another text from Katie.
Any cuties to share that mimosa with???
You were about to text her back that right now, the only cuties you could see were an adorable four-year-old and an elderly couple who must have been in their eighties when suddenly, the most gorgeous man you had ever seen in your life appeared, as if out of thin air. You were suddenly glad you didn’t have a mimosa or an iced coffee in hand, for you were certain that you would have spit it out in shock upon seeing this guy.
Jaw hanging open and eyes widening, your brain was too fuzzy from lack of sleep to remind you that it was wholly inappropriate and rude to stare.
He truly had to be the hottest man you had ever seen up close in real life. Tall, with broad, thick shoulders and a muscular build. His hair was a golden brown that looked like it was touched frequently by the sun—as did his skin, which was an amusing combination of both tan and pink, as though he should have applied just a pinch more sunscreen than he had. Most surprising of all was the mustache that made your stomach do a strange little flip. You usually weren’t all that attracted to facial hair of any sort, and most guys couldn’t pull off the mustaches they tried to sport, but this particular mustache was the sexiest thing you had ever seen. And somehow, despite not knowing this man from a hole in the wall, you couldn’t imagine him without it. It was like it was a part of his DNA.
Thankfully, he was still staring down at his boarding pass, so he hadn’t noticed your intense scrutiny. Coming to your senses, you closed your mouth and quickly averted your gaze, your cheeks growing hot with embarrassment. How mortifying. Imagine if he had looked over and caught you staring at him, gaping like a fish out of water?
Still, despite your self-consciousness at the thought of getting caught, you couldn’t help but steal another glance in his direction, this time out of the corner of your eye. He looked even taller this time around. It probably had something to do with the way he carried himself, an easy confidence pouring off him. This man knew he was hot stuff, of that you were sure. But there was also something unassuming about him, something quiet and almost humble. He was dressed in a pair of dark sweatpants and an old UVA T-shirt, nothing fancy or flashy. Somehow, however, he managed to pull it off even better than a three-piece suit.
You were startled out of your observations when your phone buzzed again. It was Katie, emphasizing her last message impatiently.
Do you have some kind of magic powers that I was unaware of to make hotties appear out of nowhere? Right when you texted me, the hottest guy I’ve ever seen walked up to my gate.
‼️‼️ GO TALK TO HIM!!! ‼️‼️
At the mere suggestion of going to talk to that guy, your stomach erupted into butterflies. Looking up once again, you saw that he had evidently confirmed he was at the right gate, and had settled down in a seat a couple rows over, facing away from you. God, even the back of his head was handsome.
Are you crazy? This guy is seriously the most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen. I look like a homeless lady that wandered in off the street. I am NOT talking to him!
Your phone buzzed angrily a moment later.
Will you shut up before I drive back there to hit you upside the head?! YOU are gorgeous!!! Who cares if you have no make-up on and your hair’s in a messy bun? It’s called airplane chic! You’re still completely stunning. He would be LUCKY to have a girl as hot as you want to talk to him!
Chewing your bottom lip, you looked up again, trying not to be obvious as your eyes slowly wandered over the people at your gate, until they landed on him once more. He was on the phone this time, having an animated conversation with whoever was on the other end of the line. Occasionally, he would turn slightly in your direction and you could catch a glimpse of his side profile.
Damn, this man was seriously perfect from every angle.
“Alright, Mav, I’ll see you when I land,” you heard him say—not that you were trying to eavesdrop—before he hung up the phone and dropped it back onto his lap.
It was then that you noticed his phone was plugged into the outlet next to his seat.
Maybe this could be your opportunity? You could casually walk over and see if there were any other open outlets near his. Perhaps you could even make a joke about how it was just your luck that the outlet near your seat wasn’t working. Maybe he’d laugh and tell you some horror story from his travel experiences and the two of you would end up talking until you exchanged numbers. Maybe there was some tiny, infinitesimal chance that this stunning man would actually be charmed by you and possibly even the teensiest bit interested.
Or maybe you would just remain rooted to your seat, terrified to move as you stared at the back of his head.
You were already anticipating the text from Katie when your phone buzzed once again.
The reason you’re not answering me better be because you’re in the middle of a conversation with Mr. Hottie from your gate!!!
Biting down on your lip, you turned your phone over, not knowing how to tell your best friend that you were too much of a chicken to get out of your seat and approach this guy.
At that moment, however, you were suddenly saved, at least somewhat, when a member of the flight crew announced that they were about to begin boarding. Forgetting about Katie’s texts and the hot guy sitting several feet away from you for a moment, you began gathering together all your belongings, making sure you hadn’t forgotten anything.
When your boarding group was called, you did one final sweep around your seat, securing the strap of your duffel bag up on your shoulder and wrapping one hand around the handle of your carry-on before making your way to the line extending from the counter.
As you stepped up behind the elderly couple you’d noticed earlier, your boarding pass slipped out of your hand, floating through the air despite your best attempt to reach for it, and landing somewhere behind you.
Turning to find it, you nearly collided with the tall wall of man behind you, who was bending at the same time to grab it off the floor.
“Oh!” you gasped, startled to find that Mr. Hottie, as Katie had dubbed him, was not only standing behind you in line, but was also holding your boarding pass in his hand, glancing down at it.
“San Diego with a layover in Atlanta, huh?” he grinned, glancing from the boarding pass up to your face. Unsurprisingly, he had a beautiful set of whiskey-colored eyes that made your stomach do the same strange little flip that his mustache had induced. Oh, and up close, the mustache was even sexier.
“Oh, um, yeah,” you nodded dumbly, your tongue suddenly feeling like it weighed a thousand pounds as your brain short-circuited and couldn’t come up with a single worthwhile thing to say.
“Glad to know I’m not the only one,” Mr. Hottie went on, holding your boarding pass out to you. “Looks like we’ve got a long day of flying ahead of us.”
Mouth hanging open, you slowly reached out and took the boarding pass from him, trying frantically to think of something—anything—to say. He was flying to San Diego, too? You were on the same exact flight? Including the same layover?
“I—I—”
“Hey, the line's moving!” someone from the back called out, sounding annoyed.
Turning back over your shoulder, you were mortified to see that the elderly couple in front of you had disappeared and you were, in fact, holding up the line.
“Oh, um, I’m sorry,” you mumbled, ducking your head as you clutched your boarding pass and reached out for your carry-on. “Thanks again for grabbing this for me,” you told Mr. Hottie, waving your boarding pass slightly before turning and practically running towards the counter.
With his long stride, he caught up to you in no time, his smile friendly and warm as the two of you joined the line of people waiting to board the airplane.
“You weren’t holding anyone up,” he whispered down to you, as if it was some special secret the two of you were sharing. “I don’t know what that guy was in such a rush for. To move from that line to this one? We’re all getting out of here at the same time.”
You smiled at his words, feeling comforted by his reassurance. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. Some people are just always in a hurry.”
The two of you were quiet after that, and you wondered if that would be the end of the conversation. You were casting around for anything else you could talk about when he suddenly asked you, “So are you leaving home or heading home?”
Your heart fluttered at his question. If he didn’t want to keep talking, he wouldn’t have asked that, right?
“Heading home,” you told him, fiddling shyly with your bracelet. You laughed softly. “It’s still kind of weird saying that. I’ve only been in San Diego for about eleven months.”
He raised his eyebrow, one corner of his mouth turning up in a smile. “Yeah? Well, I know I’m a little late, but welcome to Fightertown. I hope it’s been treating you well.”
“Oh, it has been,” you nodded, making sure to pay attention to when the people in front of you began moving forward. “I take it you’re heading home then, too?”
“I am,” he grinned, shouldering the backpack he was carrying with him. “Well, actually, I’m kind of leaving home and heading home,” he amended. At your curious look, he explained, “I’m from Virginia originally, but I live in San Diego now. I guess you could say I’m a transplant, just like you,” he added with a chuckle. “Are you from Virginia, too?”
“New York, actually,” you told him, as the two of you followed the flow of people towards the plane. “But my best friend and her husband moved to Fredericksburg recently, so I was spending the weekend with them.”
“Ah, that’s a nice area,” he nodded, rubbing the back of his neck as he glanced down at you with a smile. At your unspoken question, he said, “I was actually down for a reunion weekend at my school. I went to UVA.”
“I gathered,” you replied teasingly, indicating his T-shirt.
Glancing downward, he shook his head and laughed. “Almost forgot I threw this on when I woke up. Trying to get to the airport on time is a real pain, isn’t it?”
“Absolutely,” you agreed with a laugh, adjusting your hold on your duffel bag. “Flying is definitely one of my least favorite modes of transportation.”
“Hmm, I don’t know if I’d say that,” he said in reply, an amused look on his face.
Before you could ask him what was so funny, however, you were being welcomed aboard the plane by the stewardesses, who were all smiling and indicating that they expected you to keep moving down the aisle.
Your heart dropped slightly at the abrupt end to your conversation. Now the two of you were going to go to your separate seats, and he’d probably forget all about you. It was one thing to make idle conversation with a stranger while on line, but you doubted he had any real interest in continuing the conversation beyond that.
Sighing softly, you rolled your suitcase down the aisle, pausing every now and then as the people in front of you put their bags in the overhead bins and got themselves sorted. When you finally reached Row 22, you stopped and looked back at Mr. Hottie with an apologetic smile.
“Sorry, this is me. I’ll just be a minute,” you told him, pushing down the handle of your carry-on.
“No worries, this is me,” he grinned, indicating Row 21. “I even snagged the window seat,” he added with a wink.
Your mouth went dry. He had the window seat of Row 21. You had the window seat of Row 22. He was sitting directly in front of you.
“Here, let me help you with that,” he said, reaching for your carry-on bag and easily hefting it above his head, sliding it into the overhead bin for you. “Do you need me to put this one up there, too?” he asked, pointing towards your duffel bag.
“Oh, no, it’s okay,” you shook your head, holding onto the strap of your bag. “I’m going to keep this one with me. Thanks a lot,” you smiled, not even noticing the line of disgruntled people that was beginning to form behind the two of you.
“No problem,” he smiled, starting to slide into his row with his backpack still on his back. “Have a great flight.”
“You, too,” you replied, a little sadly, as you crawled into your row, doing your best to ignore the annoyed looks some people were throwing your way.
Needless to say, it was just your luck that the impatient man from the boarding line ended up sitting right beside you. You tried to smile at him, but he just grunted and put his headphones on, completely ignoring you.
Fine by you. Pulling your phone out, you found that you had a whole new series of texts from Katie, demanding to know exactly what was happening.
On the plane now. We should be taking off soon. I talked a little bit to Mr. Hottie. Are you happy?
It didn’t take long at all for her to respond. You could imagine that she had been sitting by her phone, waiting eagerly for your message.
Eeeee, yes, very! What did you guys talk about? Are you sitting near each other on the plane? Did you exchange numbers??? Send me a picture!!!
You laughed softly to yourself as you tried your best to answer all the questions your excited friend had asked you.
Just small talk. He’s actually flying home to San Diego, too. He went to UVA and was there for a reunion weekend. We did not exchange numbers and I’m not going to be a creepy stalker and take a picture of him, but he actually is sitting in the seat right in front of me.
OMG, IT’S FATE!!! So he has the same layover and everything??? And he’s FROM San Diego?! Babe, this is the guy for you!!! You’ve got to keep talking to him!
How would you suggest I do that? Just tap him on the shoulder and whisper into his ear the whole time?
It’s only a couple hours to Atlanta, and then you’ll have the layover, and then another four and half hours to San Diego. You could practically be engaged by the time you land! Just slip him a little note or something. Give him your number!
Your stomach was doing somersaults at the mere thought. Between the two of you, Katie had always been the more outgoing one. She would have no problem slipping a note with her phone number on it to a complete stranger, putting herself out there for the possibility of rejection and utter humiliation. You, on the other hand, preferred to play it safe. It was much more comfortable that way. And sure, maybe you’d never met your Josh the way Katie had, but at least you’d never been hurt too badly, right?
Unbidden, you thought of Andrew and felt bile rise in your throat.
Luckily, you were saved from having to answer Katie right away when the cabin crew made the announcement that it was time to shut down all electronics. Switching your phone onto airplane mode, you slipped it into the front pocket of your duffel bag and took a deep breath, buckling your seatbelt and closing your eyes.
Takeoff was your least favorite part of any flight. When you were a little girl, your parents used to make funny faces and sing silly songs to distract you from your terror. Even now as an adult who was flying all on her own, you still tried to remember the sound of their voices as the plane began its ascent.
It didn’t take too long before you were finally cruising at 18,000 feet and the captain turned off the seatbelt sign. Since you were a Delta SkyMiles member, you got free Wi-Fi on all your flights, so you immediately reached to turn your phone back on to let Katie know you had taken off safely.
As soon as your phone connected with the Wi-Fi, it was instantly flooded with a slew of text messages. A couple were from some of your friends back in San Diego, wishing you a safe and easy flight, but most were from your crazy best friend.
Don’t think you can use being on a plane as an excuse not to answer my texts!
I know you’re a SkyMiles member and you can see these messages!
You better answer me!!!
Shaking your head, you quickly tapped out a quick message in response.
Took off safely. Thinking of watching a movie before we land in Atlanta. You’re crazy and I am not slipping him a note.
Your phone was blessedly quiet for the next several minutes, and part of you hoped that Katie had given up this ridiculous notion. Knowing her as long as you had, however, you should have figured that wouldn’t be the case.
What’s the worst that could happen? He doesn’t answer you? The two of you never talk again? You’ve never seen this guy before in your life, and the chances are good that you’ll never see him again after this. So if you put yourself out there and it doesn’t work out, who cares? At least you tried. And sure, it might be a little embarrassing at first, but like I said, you’ll never have to see him again. But what if you thought about it the other way around? What if it DOES work out? What if this could be the start of something great? Would you really just want to walk away, wondering what could have been and regretting that you didn’t take a chance? You deserve to be loved so, so, SO much! And I know that you have so much love to give! This guy would be lucky if you chose him. Just give it a try, will you? For me? Please! You can’t see it, but I’m giving my best puppy dog face right now. And sending you all the best vibes! You can do this! I love you! ♥️
You groaned at your best friend’s heartfelt message. How could you possibly say no to that? You knew Katie just wanted the best for you, and she wanted you to be happy. You wanted to be happy, too. What if she was right? What if this was your chance? Would you be a fool to just walk away from it without even trying? Like Katie said, at least if you tried, you could say you’d done all you could. And if it didn’t work, then Mr. Hottie just wasn’t the one for you. No harm, no foul.
You were starting to feel like you might need to make use of the vomit bag tucked securely in the seat pocket in front of you when the stewardess stopped at your row to offer you all snacks and beverages. You gratefully accepted a can of ginger ale and a packet of pretzels, nibbling on them slowly in an attempt to settle your roiling stomach.
You were being an idiot. There was no reason to be so dramatic about all this. You could write a quick note and pass it up to him, then pretend it had never happened. Seriously, what was the worst that was going to happen? He was going to get up and make an announcement over the loudspeaker that the girl sitting in 22A was a pathetic, lonely loser? You doubted that very much.
Before you could lose your nerve, you reached into the front pocket of your duffel bag and pulled out the pen you always kept there. Turns out, it really did come in handy. Mercifully, the grumpy man beside you was already snoring, so you could write your note in peace without being worried about him seeing what you were doing.
Hand shaking slightly, you penned a quick letter to the handsome, charming man in 21A.
Hi there. I realized in all our talking that I never caught your name. But it might be good to know, seeing how we’re layover buddies and all. Hope you’re enjoying the flight so far.
You signed your name at the bottom, and then took a deep breath, reading over what you had written on the back of your Delta napkin. It sounded impossibly stupid, but you’d come this far and you weren’t going to turn back now. What was it that people on the internet were always saying? Something about shooting your shot?
Breathing through your nose to avoid getting sick, you reached out a trembling finger and lightly tapped the broad shoulder that you saw peeking out from the seat in front of you. You suddenly realized that he may have been asleep and panicked at the thought of waking him up, but he shifted immediately at your touch and you could tell that he was turning towards you.
Not wanting to meet his eye, you immediately thrust your napkin into the small open space between your seats and the windows, silently praying that he would take it from you instead of laughing in your face.
A second later, you felt his large fingers brush against yours as he took your little note, shifting in his seat once more so that he was facing front again.
What had you just done? Oh, God, there was still another hour left to go on this flight, then a layover, and another four and half hours to San Diego. True, you would never have to see him again after you landed in California, but that was still a lot of time left to have to be in proximity to him if all of this blew up in your face.
You were just about ready to launch yourself out of one of the emergency exits when you suddenly looked up and realized that there was a small white napkin hovering above your head.
Mr. Hottie in 21A was reaching back with your note in hand. Your stomach plummeted and your face and neck grew warm with shame at the thought of him returning the letter you’d written him, until you noticed the red ink on the back of it.
You’d written your note in black ink.
Slowly reaching out, you took the napkin from his hand, your fingers brushing against each other once more. His were large and warm and calloused and made goosebumps rise on your arm.
Pulse beating rapidly, you turned over the napkin to see the response he had written on the back. His handwriting was a bit messy, more of a scrawl than anything, but it made you smile to look at it.
What was I thinking, not properly introducing myself to my layover buddy? Hope you can forgive me. My name is Bradley. I don’t suppose there’s any chance you’ve got some Wi-Fi on this flight, do you? If you do, feel free to text me. We seem to be dangerously low on napkins.
At the bottom, he’d written his cell phone number.
Pressing a hand over your mouth, it took everything in you to swallow back the squeal of delight that rose up your throat. It worked! Katie’s silly plan had actually worked! Oh, she was going to gloat about this forever when you told her.
Beaming brightly, you pulled out your cell phone. As much as you loved her, Katie could wait right now. You had an extremely gorgeous layover buddy to get in touch with.
Typing his number into your cell phone, you opened up a new message and contemplated what to say for a moment.
Layover buddies who both just so happen to have some inflight Wi-Fi? Clearly it’s meant to be.
You hoped the message came across as cute and flirty instead of desperate and weird as you hit send, anxiously waiting to see if he would reply.
It took only a moment before your phone buzzed, Bradley’s name lighting up your screen.
Layover buddies who both just so happen have some inflight Wi-Fi AND spring for the window seats? Obviously it’s meant to be!
You smiled and were about to think up a reply when another message suddenly came though.
Oh, and to answer your note—I’m enjoying the flight a lot more now.
The butterflies went crazy in your stomach as you wrote back to him.
Me, too. And that’s saying a lot, considering the four-year-old behind me hasn’t stopped kicking my seat since we boarded.
Bradley only took seconds to reply.
Oof, that’s rough. If I could switch seats with you, I would. But I have to admit that I’m very happy that you’re not kicking my seat.
Wouldn’t be too sure about that, you sent back teasingly before lightly nudging his seat with your foot.
Hey! I thought we were friends!
We’ll see 😉
You and Bradley went back and forth like that for the entire remainder of your flight to Atlanta, the banter light and easy as you teased and joked with each other. You even ended up playing a game of 20 Questions, in which you learned, among other things, that Bradley’s favorite color was red, he once broke his arm when he was seven years old, and he absolutely despised peas.
As the captain announced that you would soon begin preparing for your final descent, you shot off a quick message to Katie, who you had woefully neglected during your conversation with Bradley.
I owe you one. The pep talk and the plan actually worked—I’m texting Mr. Hottie as we speak! Update you soon. We’re about to land in Atlanta.
Just as you sent the message off to your friend, another text from Bradley arrived.
Looks like we’re going to have to turn off our phones, layover buddy. I’ll see you when we land. Food? I’m starving.
Grinning, you had to pinch yourself to check that this wasn’t some sort of elaborate dream.
Same. I’ll race you for some french fries.
You’re on.
When the plane finally landed and the captain turned off the seatbelt sign, everyone practically jumped out of their seats in a mad dash to see who could be the first to get their belongings out of the overhead bins. Since you and Bradley were in the window seats, you took your time, knowing you weren’t getting off the plane anytime soon.
You were surprised, however, when he suddenly popped his head over the back of his seat, grinning down at you. “Good thing our next flight doesn’t leave for a couple hours yet,” he said, indicating the crowd with a good-natured grin that made your heart melt.
You had almost been starting to think you’d exaggerated just how good-looking he was, but nope. He really was that hot.
“Plenty of time to grab those fries,” you laughed, smiling up at him.
When you and Bradley were finally able to step out into the aisle, he opened the bin above your head and reached for your suitcase.
“Let me take care of this for you,” he said, lowering it to the ground and lifting the handle so that he could wheel it up the aisle.
“Oh, you don’t have to,” you insisted, not wanting him to think that you expected him to carry your things for you.
“Hey, what are layover buddies for?” he winked, leading the way off the plane.
Once the two of you were standing face to face in the middle of the airport terminal, you began to feel a little shy and self-conscious again. It had been easy to talk to Bradley via text, but now that you were gazing up at his handsome face again, you suddenly found yourself getting just as tongue-tied as before.
Bradley seemed to sense your nerves because he smiled warmly at you, his demeanor just as open and friendly as it had been the entire time you’d known him.
“How about we hunt down those fries?” he suggested, waiting until you smiled and nodded before turning and guiding you towards the main concourse.
The two of you ended up finding a quick and easy little fast food counter, where you ordered a couple burgers, a large order of fries, and some vanilla milkshakes with whipped cream and cherries. As soon as it became clear that Bradley was going to pay for both your meals, you tried to argue and insist on paying your share, but he wouldn’t hear it.
“My mom raised a gentleman, and she would kill me if she thought I was even thinking of letting my layover buddy pay for her lunch,” he told you, winking playfully as he handed his credit card to the employee behind the counter.
You took your suitcase from Bradley as he balanced the tray with your food in his hands, leading you to an empty table towards the end of the concourse.
“Your mom must be very proud of you, I’m sure,” you grinned, reaching eagerly for a fry and popping it into your mouth. “Did you get to see her while you were in Virginia?”
Bradley smiled, though his eyes suddenly looked a little sad. “Yeah. Yeah, you could say that.”
Deciding not to press the matter, you instead turned the attention to his college reunion. That led to the two of you happily swapping stories about your time in college, which landed you on the subject of what you do now.
“A naval aviator? Really? And a TOPGUN graduate? That’s very impressive,” you gushed, mentally picturing him in a flight suit. You’d gone on a couple dates with some naval aviators from North Island, but none as handsome or as charming as Bradley. You suddenly groaned and covered your face with your hand when you remembered what you’d said to him right before boarding the plane. “So that’s what you meant when I was saying that flying isn’t my favorite mode of transportation,” you murmured, feeling a little embarrassed.
Bradley threw his head back and laughed at that, looking genuinely amused. “Hey, I get it. Flying isn’t for everybody. Trust me, some days I wish I had just opted for a desk job,” he grinned, his muscles flexing as he stretched in his seat. “But there’s nothing quite like it, when you’re the one doing the flying. Maybe one day I can take you up in the air and change your mind.”
He looked across the table at you and held your gaze, and you felt sure in that moment that you would have promised him anything he asked.
“So what’s your call sign then?” you asked with a smile, resting your cheek in your hand as you looked into his eyes.
“Oh, you know about that, huh?” he chuckled, the tips of his ears turning pink. “Well, uh, they call me Rooster.”
You had a feeling he expected you to laugh—maybe other girls in the past had—but you just grinned brightly in response. “I like it,” you said simply. “It suits you.”
He let out a small breath and smiled in return. “Thank you. My dad’s call sign was Goose. So I guess it runs in the family.”
“Your dad is in the Navy, too?” you asked curiously, lifting your milkshake and taking a sip.
Bradley cleared his throat slightly, looking down at his lap. “He was. He died in a training accident at TOPGUN when I was two.”
You sucked in a breath at your own carelessness and looked across at Bradley with empathy glowing in your eyes. “Oh, Bradley,” you murmured softly, reaching out and resting a hand over his. “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay,” he replied gently, a small smile on his face as he placed his other hand over yours. “But thank you.” He was quiet for a moment before he went on. “It was just me and my mom for a while, back home in Virginia. But she got sick when I was in high school, and she passed away my senior year.”
“Bradley,” you breathed out sadly, your heart breaking for him. You winced when you thought of what he’d said before, about seeing his mom while he was in Virginia.
“She and my dad are buried in my hometown, where I grew up. I go to see them at the cemetery whenever I’m back in town,” he explained, as if reading your thoughts.
“I’m sure that means a lot to them, and that they’re smiling down on you always,” you told him sincerely, squeezing his hand lightly.
He smiled up at you, the sadness in his expression lifting slightly. “I like to think so. I think they’d like you a lot,” he added, then looked away. He suddenly seemed embarrassed.
The two of you sat back, disentangling your hands as you sat in mildly awkward silence for a moment or two.
“What about your parents?” Bradley asked, clearly looking for a way to change the subject. “Do they still live in New York?”
It was your turn to look sad now. “Well, we actually have a lot in common, Bradley. Only I guess my story is sort of in reverse. My mom passed away when I was six years old. She got in a car accident on her way home from work. And my dad passed when I was a freshman in college. Lung cancer.”
“Shit,” Bradley muttered, shaking his head and running a hand through his hair. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have—”
“It’s okay,” you cut him off, placing a reassuring hand on his arm. “You couldn’t have known. And it feels kind of nice talking about it with someone who I know understands. You know what I mean?”
“Yeah,” Bradley nodded, his expression serious as his dark eyes rested on your face. “Yeah, I do.”
You and Bradley sat in companionable silence as you finished your meals, then checked to see how much time you had before your connecting flight.
“I guess we should start making our way over to the gate,” you suggested, glancing at the time on your phone. You had about ten text messages from Katie, but you were too embarrassed to open them anywhere near Bradley.
Bradley nodded in agreement, wordlessly taking the handle of your suitcase and leading you back across the concourse.
“Hey, we got so distracted talking about my job that I never even asked what you do,” he suddenly realized once the two of you were seated at your gate, both your phones charging in a nearby outlet.
“Oh, yeah,” you smiled, brushing a loose strand of hair that had escaped your bun behind your ear. “Funny enough, I actually work for the Midway Museum,” you told him, glancing up at him, only to find that he was already gazing down at you.
“No way! Guess we’re both stuck aboard aircraft carriers for work then,” he chuckled. “What do you do?”
“Well, my official title is digital content specialist,” you said, biting down on your lower lip. You felt like it always sounded a bit pretentious. “Basically, I help run the museum’s digital accounts—social media, their website, email blasts, things like that. My degree is in marketing and communications, so that’s basically what I do.”
“That’s amazing,” Bradley said, and you could tell that he genuinely meant it. Some guys just pretended to be interested in your job as a pretense for trying to get into your pants, but you could tell that Bradley actually cared about what you had to say. He was actually listening. “Is that what brought you out to San Diego?”
“It is, actually. I had been applying to a few different places, and when I got word from the Midway that they were interested in hiring me, I thought that maybe it was the fresh start I needed,” you confessed.
“Has it been?” Bradley asked quietly.
“I think so,” you nodded slowly, absent-mindedly twisting your bracelet around your wrist. “It’s hard sometimes, being so far away from my best friend, Katie—the one I was visiting. She’s pretty much the only family I’ve got left. But I like the life that I’m building in San Diego.”
“That’s good. I’m glad to hear it,” Bradley smiled, his hand lightly brushing against yours as he shifted in his seat. He looked like he was about to say more when the flight crew called your boarding group.
“Looks like we’re going to be sitting near each other again, 21A,” you teased, glancing down at his boarding pass as the two of you rose and grabbed your phones.
“Glad to hear it, 22A,” he joked in return, holding up his phone and waving it back and forth. “And now my phone is fully charged for our trip back to San Diego, so let the texting commence.”
Giggling, you nodded as the two of you walked down the rampway side by side and made your way onto the plane and to your seats without incident. When you got there, however, you saw that there had been some confusion with a young family that looked to have four children under the age of eight. It seemed as though their tickets had gotten split up so that they weren’t all sitting next to each other, and the mother was frantic.
“Excuse me, ma’am?” Bradley asked, quickly taking stock of the situation. When the woman looked up at him, clearly stressed out and worried he was going to yell at her, he smiled comfortingly. “I was just going to say that, if you’d like, you can have my seat. I’d be happy to take yours since it looks like it’s next to my friend here anyway. That way, we can all be comfortable and sit with the people we want to sit with.”
“Oh, thank you!” the young mother exclaimed, looking ready to hug Bradley. “Thank you!”
She and her husband quickly got their children settled, thanking Bradley a few more times for good measure, while he took your carry-on and set it in the overhead bin.
Once you had settled in your window seat, Bradley took the seat beside you, grinning impishly.
“Look at that. Now we don’t even need to waste the Wi-Fi,” he murmured, nudging you playfully.
“Things just have a way of working out for us today, don’t they?” you laughed, settling your duffel bag at your feet. “I’m just going to send a quick message to Katie, to let her know I made it onto my connecting flight,” you told him, reaching for your phone and quickly opening Katie’s messages so that Bradley wouldn’t see them.
“Good idea, I should text Mav,” Bradley said, grabbing his phone out of his pocket. At your confused look, he explained, “My godfather. He’s also in the Navy, and he also just so happens to be stationed out in San Diego. He’s going to pick me up at the airport.”
Nodding, you sent a brief text to your best friend, promising you would call her as soon as you got home, then settled in for the flight and tried to get as comfortable as possible.
As soon as you felt the plane jolt to life and begin taxing towards the runway, your chest grew tight and your grip on yours and Bradley’s shared armrest started to turn your knuckles white.
“Hey,” Bradley said softly, genuine concern in his voice as he glanced over and noticed how on edge you suddenly appeared. “You alright?”
“I’m fine,” you lied, keeping your gaze fixed straight ahead on the screen in front of you, which was currently playing some Delta commercial that your brain could scarcely register.
“I think your death grip on our armrest would suggest otherwise,” he pressed gently, his tone remaining light and good-humored. “You trying to take that thing with you?”
Startled, your nervous trance was broken and you glanced down to see what Bradley was talking about. Sure enough, your nails were digging into the armrest so intensely that you wouldn’t have been surprised if they left little crescent-shaped marks in their wake.
Letting out a shaky laugh, you looked up at the man beside you ruefully. “Okay, truth be told, I get a little anxious during takeoff,” you confessed, biting your lip in embarrassment. He would probably think that was silly. He was a fighter pilot, after all. His day job involved flying multi-million dollar aircrafts for the military. And here you were, acting like a scaredy cat over a commercial Delta flight.
Bradley’s eyes crinkled in a way that you found devastatingly charming as he smiled over at you. The look on his face was kind, without a single trace of mocking humor.
“Want to know a secret?” he whispered, leaning in closer to you so that his nose was nearly pressed against your cheek and you could feel his breath on your skin. “So do I.”
“You’re kidding,” you scoffed, shooting him a skeptical look. He was probably just trying to be nice. “But you’re a naval aviator!”
“Yeah, but I’m not the one flying this plane, am I?” he retorted with a lopsided grin. “It’s hard to put the reins in someone else’s hands. So I understand being nervous. Hell, I still get a little nervous sometimes when I’m flying an F-18. Just don’t tell anyone I said that,” he added, lowering his voice conspiratorially.
“Oh, of course not,” you giggled, smiling over at him. Glancing out the window, you realized that his conversation had distracted you so much, you hadn’t even noticed that the plane had finished its approach towards the runway and was officially waiting for takeoff.
Some of your nerves returned, and you gripped the armrest once more, but this time, you felt Bradley’s large, yet gentle fingers close over yours. Surprised, you turned your head sharply and instantly met his gaze. It was direct and disconcertingly open as he looked deeply into your eyes.
“It’s okay,” he assured you in a low voice, squeezing your fingers comfortingly. “We’re going to be okay.”
“My parents used to sing to me during takeoff,” you found yourself blurting out suddenly, your cheeks growing warm at the admission. “I can remember my mom doing it when I was a little girl, and my dad used to do it for me even when I was in high school,” you explained shyly, lowering your eyes to your lap.
At that moment, your stomach dropped as the plane suddenly began hurtling forward, seeking enough momentum to become airborne.
You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to recall the sound of your parents’ voices in order to calm your racing heart. But a new voice suddenly entered the mix as you felt your newfound flying buddy lean across the armrest, his warm body pressing against your side as he sang quietly in your ear.
“You shake my nerves and you rattle my brain…”
Wait a second. You knew that song. Where did you know that song from?
“Too much love drives a man insane. You broke my will, but what a thrill…”
Yes, you definitely knew that song. It was on one of the records your parents used to play when you were a little girl. Was it Jerry Lee Lewis?
Gasping in recognition, you whisper-sang the next lyric in harmony with Bradley—“Goodness gracious, great balls of fire!”
He laughed in delight when you began singing along, squeezing your hand with an affectionate grin. “And would you look at that,” he said, nodding towards the window. “We’re airborne. Wasn’t so bad, was it?”
Shocked, you followed his line of vision and were taken aback to see that you were already ascending into the clouds, leaving the city of Atlanta far behind. That had been one of the smoothest takeoff experiences you’d had in—well, you couldn’t even remember how long.
“I barely even noticed!” you exclaimed, focusing your attention back on Bradley. You smiled gratefully, your heart melting at the adorable puppy dog look on his face. “Thank you, Bradley.”
You noticed at that moment that he still hadn’t let go of your hand, and your pulse began to quicken, but this time for entirely different reasons.
“You’re welcome,” he murmured in response, his voice low and suddenly husky. It did something to you, that deep, raspy voice of his. “Happy to do it.” He squeezed your hand gently once more, then slowly—almost hesitantly—let it go.
“I haven’t heard that song in the longest time,” you told him, resting back against your seat. “My parents used to listen to it.”
Bradley smiled slightly. “It’s the one song I can actually remember my dad singing. He loved to sing and play the piano. My mom had tons of home videos of him doing it. But that song—that song I can actually remember hearing him sing, you know? I was so young when he—well—I can remember that one. And that’s why it’s my favorite to sing and play.”
“You play the piano, too?” you asked, impressed. “Wow, a man of many talents.” You nudged him playfully, a big smile on your face.
“I’ll have to show you what I can do,” Bradley replied, winking.
Your stomach fluttered at the implication that he might actually want to see you again after today.
“I’d like that,” you admitted, ducking your head shyly. You suddenly felt much more aware of everything around you, particularly every inch of your muscular seatmate. Goodness, he really was huge, wasn’t he? Chewing nervously on your bottom lip, you began fidgeting with your bracelet, tugging at it absent-mindedly.
“That’s a pretty bracelet,” Bradley commented, pointing at it as he watched you twist it back and forth around your wrist. “A gift?” he asked lightly, his tone almost a little too casual.
“Mhm,” you nodded, smiling fondly as you gazed down at it. You could still remember the day you opened it. “My dad bought it for me as a present when I graduated high school. I never take it off.”
“Ah,” Bradley nodded, appearing surprisingly relieved. He was quiet for a moment or two, looking like he was mulling over something. Then he turned towards you and asked, “So, um, is there anybody waiting for you in San Diego? Anyone, uh, special, I mean?” he asked, his cheeks and his ears turning red as he rubbed the back of his neck.
You felt your own skin grow warm in response. Was Bradley asking if you had a boyfriend? And was he embarrassed about it? Just when you thought this man couldn’t possibly charm you any more than he already had.
“Not unless you count my neighbor, Mrs. Flores. She really appreciates it when I walk her dog on the weekends,” you told him, your lips twitching as you tried to maintain a straight face.
Caught off guard by your response, Bradley let out a loud laugh, covering his mouth with one hand as he glanced down at you, eyes twinkling.
“I’m sure Mrs. Flores will be very happy to see you back again,” he nodded, tapping his fingers on his tray table.
The two of you sat in silence for a couple minutes until you finally glanced up and said, “I had actually just gotten out of a long-term relationship right before I moved to San Diego. It was kind of the catalyst for why I decided to take the job at the Midway Museum.”
“Oh, really?” Bradley asked, eyebrows shooting up. Then he cleared his throat, shaking his head. “I mean, I’m sorry to hear that. If it’s too personal, we don’t have to talk about it.”
“No, it’s okay,” you sighed, twirling your bracelet a few times as you thought back on your last failed relationship. Surprisingly, it didn’t hurt as much as it normally did. Maybe time really did heal all wounds. You took a deep breath before you elaborated. “Andrew and I were together for four years. For a long time, I really thought he was the one. Katie was convinced that he was going to propose on our trip to Greece. It was a dream vacation for me. I had the whole thing planned out for months and months. And I really started to let myself believe that it was going to happen.”
Bradley sat quietly, watching you carefully as he attentively took in every word you uttered.
“We were in Athens, and I had the whole day planned—all these tours and museums. But Andrew insisted that he was too tired since we had just traveled from Rhodes, and he begged me to let him stay behind at the hotel. Being the idiot that I am, I thought that maybe he wanted to put the finishing touches on his big proposal. So I went on the tours by myself. But the last tour ended early, so I came back to our hotel room a little sooner than expected.”
Your throat began to tighten as the story continued, the pain of what had happened next eclipsed only by your embarrassment that Bradley would soon know how pitifully your last relationship had ended. Why had you brought all this up?
“I’ll spare you all the details, but suffice it to say, I found Andrew in bed with one of the cocktail waitresses from the hotel bar. And to no one’s surprise, there was no ring and he never had any intention of proposing. So I flew home from Greece minus a boyfriend and with very little remaining of my dignity. Leaving everything behind and starting fresh in San Diego seemed like a really good idea, so when the Midway contacted me, I jumped at the offer. And here I am,” you finished with a self-conscious laugh, shrugging your shoulders awkwardly.
Bradley didn’t say anything at first, just continued to stare at you in a way that had you feeling distinctly exposed. Your fingers immediately went to your bracelet once again, nervously fidgeting and waiting for him to say something.
Reaching out, he placed his hand over yours and stilled your movements gently. “First of all,” he began slowly, looking directly into your eyes. It seemed as though he was peering directly into your soul. “Andrew is a complete and total loser. If he didn’t know what he had in you, then he never deserved you to begin with. It’s his loss, and trust me, he’ll be regretting it for the rest of his life if he has even an ounce of sense.” His thumb brushed lightly against your knuckles, making your legs suddenly feel like Jell-O. “Second of all, I’m so sorry. You didn’t deserve that, and I hope you know that the way that idiot treated you in no way says anything about you. I’ve only known you for a few hours, but I can see that that guy never deserved you to begin with.”
Feeling bashful, you lowered your head, trying to escape the intensity of Bradley’s dark eyes. It didn’t matter though—you could still feel his gaze.
“You don’t have to say that,” you murmured, not wanting him to think you had just unloaded all of this on him for sympathy points.
“I’m not just saying it,” he insisted, his voice serious. “You’re a special girl, and you deserve to be with someone who treats you that way.”
Someone like you?
The thought sprang unbidden to your mind, causing you to grow flustered. “Th–thank you,” you stammered, worried for half a second that Bradley could actually read your mind.
You were saved from having to make any further comment in that moment when the stewardess suddenly appeared with the food cart, asking you if you wanted any snacks or beverages.
You opted for a Diet Coke and popcorn, while Bradley took a Sprite and a bag of potato chips.
“What do you say? A little toast to my new flight buddy?” Bradley suggested teasingly, holding his can of soda out towards you.
You couldn’t help but smile, lightly tapping your can against his. “Cheers to us,” you laughed, taking a small sip.
“To us,” Bradley grinned. “You know,” he went on, after taking a gulp of his Sprite, “if you ever want to think about getting your pilot’s license, I’d be happy to have you as my wingman—er, woman.”
You laughed aloud at the notion, shaking your head. “Um, did you already forget about how well I handled takeoff? I’m not so sure anyone would trust me behind the controls of a plane.”
“I could teach you,” he shot back, waggling his eyebrows until you laughed again. “Or at the very least, take you up for a little joyride. I’d make sure to keep you safe.”
Your heart warmed at his words, and you found yourself wondering what it would be like to walk through life with this man, to have him be the one you came home to every day.
To have him be the one to make you feel like the most special girl in the world.
“I would like that,” you confessed, pushing your self-consciousness to the side as you looked into his eyes. “I would like that a lot.”
“So would I,” Bradley replied, his expression earnest.
For the next hour or two, you and Bradley shared some of the snacks you’d packed in your duffel bag and talked about everything and nothing at the same time. You had never felt so instantly at ease with someone who had been a complete and total stranger just a few hours earlier. The fact that he had been in San Diego all this time, right under your nose, and that it had taken a flight home all the way from Virginia for you two to actually meet felt like more than just a coincidence. It felt like this was exactly where you were supposed to be.
At some point, you must have finally succumbed to your exhaustion and fallen asleep because when the captain announced that you were making your final descent into San Diego International Airport, you were lifting your head off Bradley’s shoulder and blinking in confusion.
“Hello there, sleepyhead,” Bradley grinned, wiping a hand down his face and rubbing the sleep out of his own eyes.
“How long was I asleep?” you asked, stretching your arms over your head. “I never sleep on planes.”
“Well you definitely slept on this one. I’d say you were probably out for at least an hour and a half,” he told you, running a hand through his hair, which made his sunkissed curls stand on end. “I nodded out, too. Guess we both needed it, huh?”
“Yeah, guess so,” you nodded, smiling at him.
By the time you finally deplaned—after Bradley, of course, had insisted on taking down your carry-on suitcase from the overhead bin and rolling it through the airport for you—you were growing both eager and anxious with anticipation of what the end of your journey would look like.
You and Bradley technically already had each other’s phone numbers, so should you say something about getting together? Would that seem too brazen? Should you just text him tomorrow and hope that whatever spark had been ignited during your travels today wouldn’t be extinguished by the time you both got home?
All of those thoughts and more were running through your head as you and Bradley took the escalator down to baggage claim and the terminal exit.
“Do you, um, do you have somebody picking you up?” Bradley asked as the two of you stepped off the escalator. He stepped to the side to avoid the flow of the crowd, and you stepped with him. “Mrs. Flores perhaps?” he added with a teasing spark in his eye.
“No,” you giggled, shaking your head. “I was just planning to call an Uber.”
“No need,” he said, his chest puffing out ever so slightly. “Mav and I will give you a ride home. He should actually be here already,” he mumbled, almost to himself, as he pulled his phone out of his pocket and scrolled through his messages.
“Oh, you guys don’t have to do that. I wouldn’t want you going out of your way,” you hurried to tell him, noticing that Bradley still had his hand on the handle of your suitcase.
“Who says it would be going out of our way?” Bradley retorted with that impossibly charming smile of his. “Unless, of course, you’re more comfortable taking an Uber. I don’t want to make you feel like—”
“No, no, you’re not,” you interrupted, wanting to make it clear to him that you appreciated the offer.
Seemingly at an impasse, the two of you just looked at each other and started laughing.
“I would love a ride, thank you. If it’s not too much trouble,” you told him.
“Never,” Bradley insisted. “Besides, you put up with me all day. I owe you.”
“I could say the same thing,” you grinned, reaching into the front pocket of your duffel bag and pulling out your cell phone. “In the meantime, I should text Katie and let her know I landed safely and that you haven’t abducted me or anything,” you teased jokingly.
Too late, you realized your mistake.
“Ah, so you told Katie about me, huh?” Bradley smirked, looking just a tad too pleased with himself. “What did you say?”
“Oh, um, nothing, just that I made a friend while traveling,” you stammered in humiliation, your cheeks feeling like they were on fire. “I’m just, um, I’m going to step over there while you get your bag.”
“Sure, sure,” he laughed, winking at you as he hurried over to the baggage carousel to search for his suitcase.
“Oh my God, how stupid are you?” you muttered to yourself, mentally kicking yourself for your careless words as you sent off a quick message to your best friend to let her know you were alive.
A moment later, she texted you back.
YOU BETTER CALL ME THE MINUTE YOU GET HOME!!! I WANT EVERY. SINGLE. DETAIL!!!
Smiling, you dropped your phone back into your bag and looked up to see Bradley walking towards you, his suitcase in hand.
“Ready to head out?” he asked with a smile, watching as you grabbed the handle of your carry-on and did one quick scan to make sure you hadn’t dropped anything.
“Ready,” you nodded, following him outside to where a slew of Ubers and other cars were waiting to pick up their passengers.
“There’s Mav,” Bradley told you, pointing with his free hand towards the end of the pick-up line, where a handsome older man with dark hair and an easy smile was waving at you.
“Your godfather drives a Porsche?” you asked, your eyes nearly bugging out of your head at the sight of the vintage car. It was in pristine condition and you were certain it must have cost a small fortune.
“Technically, it’s his fiancée, Penny’s car, but she lets him drive it when he’s been good,” Bradley joked, resting a gentle hand on your back as he guided you through the crowd.
Bradley was quick to embrace his godfather when the two of you finally reached the Porsche, slapping him on the back before stepping back and holding out a hand to you. “Mav, I’d like you to meet my new travel buddy,” he grinned, introducing you by name.
Mav, as Bradley kept calling him, offered you one of those easy smiles as he held out his hand, which you took with a smile of your own.
“Ah, so this is the girl from the plane I’ve been hearing so much about,” Mav smirked, shooting a pointed look in his godson’s direction.
“Mav!” Bradley hissed through gritted teeth, his complexion instantly turning pink, even in the shade.
“Ah,” you smirked, feeling vindicated from your earlier blunder. “So you told Mav about me, huh?” you asked, nudging his side. “What did you say?” you teased, tossing back his question from before.
“Oh, he said plenty,” Mav jumped in, clearly enjoying watching Bradley squirm as he opened the passenger side door for you.
“Don’t listen to him. He’s crazy. All those Gs he’s always pulling have finally gone to his head,” Bradley protested, although he was smiling as he said it.
“Oh, I think I’m going to enjoy this car ride very much,” you giggled, winking at Bradley as you slid into your seat.
“Promise you’ll still like me by the time we get home?” Bradley whispered, leaning in close as he climbed in beside you.
You grinned up at him, thinking about how, for the first time in a long time, you didn’t feel so alone. San Diego suddenly felt much more like home than it ever had.
“Promise.”
#bradley rooster bradshaw#bradley bradshaw#rooster bradshaw#rooster x reader#bradley bradsaw x reader#x reader#x female reader#top gun#top gun: maverick#miles teller
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𝑀𝑦 𝑆𝑤𝑒𝑒𝑡 𝑃𝑒𝑎
Summary ︱Mr. Levinson lives right next door to you, the sweet, innocent college girl. Little do you know that you're Mr. Levinson's favorite neighbor. He's there every chance you need the slightest of help, maybe a little too much.
Pairings︱Mechanic!Ari Levinson x Innocent!Fem!Reader, Robert Pronge x Innocent!Fem!Reader
W.C︱4k
Warnings︱18+ MINORS DNI, Trailer Park AU, it's pretty tame for right now, pet names (Sweet Pea),cursing, reader is scared of Pronge, masturbation (m!) and I think that is all the warnings. Let me know if I missed any!
Author's note︱I am very excited for this series :) This is set around the 90s just because I feel like it fits better with the idea I have going on in my head. It has been awhile since I've written anything so I'm hoping it's not too terrible. I hope you will enjoy this! Feedback is appreciated! Follow my side blog and turn on post notifications :D
“Did you see Mr. Levinson today?” your Mother’s friend, Valerie, asked while wiggling her eyebrows.
“Nope,” you instantly responded. “Have you?”
“Already got my dose of that sexy man.” She smirked while winking at you.
Ari Levinson towered everyone he’s ever met. He stood at a proud 6'6. It was hard to miss the luscious brown locks that fell over his face and the cerulean blue eyes that you could never find your way out of. His beard adorned his jaw and hid the pump rose colored lips he held.
Even when he was doused in motor oil and dirt he was still a beautiful man. He was your neighbor and very well known at the trailer park. Ari was a woman’s walking wet dream come to life.
“He’s already up?” you asked as your eyes bulged out of your head. “It’s like 6 in the morning.”
“Of course he’s up, he’s having his morning coffee.”
You rolled your eyes playfully. “Only you would know that stalker.”
“It’s not stalking Y/N, it's called being an astute observer,” she retorted. “That’s besides the point, shouldn’t you be heading out by now?”
“I should be but…” you started to answer, looking out the window cautiously, “I have a feeling you know who is outside.”
“If you don’t leave now you’ll be late for work which by the way is in 20 minutes,” she reminded you, pointing towards the clock.
“Please don’t remind me.” You internally groaned as you threw your head back and rubbed your eyes.
After a few moments you finally decided to lift yourself from the couch and head your way out. Goosebumps arose on your arms as you opened the front door. You hated this kind of weather, you couldn’t be without a sweater in the morning but by 3pm you’d be sweating like a dog. You shrugged on your brother's jacket, not bothering to zip it up and closed the front door.
Just as you predicted, the person you dreaded seeing most was standing right outside, Mr. Pronge.
Robert Pronge was your neighbor and lived right across from you. Ever since you moved in he formed the bad habit of staring at you and hitting on you like there’s no tomorrow. From what you heard he was a sick sadistic bastard who liked to torture girls with pleasure. He’s had many lovers enter the trailer but seemingly none of them come back.
You didn’t like the way he makes you feel. It felt like a hungry lion stalking its predator, ready to pounce at any moment’s notice. At the same time you couldn’t help but feel hot. Everytime he was near you, your heart raced from the fear and you felt a pulse in between your legs.
“Morning Princess!” Mr. Pronge called out from his front lawn.
“Good morning Mr. Pronge!” You greeted back but only to be polite. You tried to avoid looking too much at him and instead looked towards the ground.
You heard shoes beating against the ground and you prayed with all your heart that it was someone else running. Luck was not on your side that morning. When you looked up it was the one and only Mr. Pronge.
“Where are you going Princess?” he asked. His breath was minty fresh even though his appearance would say otherwise.
“To work,” you bluntly replied, trying to open your car door.
“Aw Princess, don’t be like that,” he cooed. Once you did get your car door open, he immediately slammed it closed, almost smashing your finger in the process. “I’ll give you a ride. Come on, let's go.”
“I appreciate the offer Mr. Pronge but I can take myself,” you insisted while attempting to reopen your car door.
“Princess…” he warningly said.
Mr. Pronge didn’t like it when people told him no. The word no did not exist in his world.
“I said I’ll give you a ride.”
“Leave her alone Robert!” Ari yelled from his porch, causing the both of you to turn around. “She’s probably late for work!”
Mr. Pronge sighed as he stepped back in defeat. “I’ll take you next time Princess.”
You internally groaned at his comment. He could never leave you alone. Every morning he would play this game with you. On the bright side, you were one of the very few people allowed to tell him no and get away with it.
“Thank you Mr. Levinson!” you yelled as you got in the car.
“Anytime!” Ari walked over to Robert after you drove off. Though his eyes never peeled off from you the entire time.
“You’re always in my way,” Robert playfully commented.
Ari chuckled at the jab. Ari always had to save you from him every morning without fail. “Rob, how many times have I told you to leave the poor girl alone?” He asked as he brought his cup of coffee to his lips.
“I will never leave her alone,” he answered with a proud smirk. “Not until I make her mine.”
“Oh please! You’re old!” Ari jabbed at him. “She’s going to want a hot 20 year old guy not some 40 year old.”
“Her father was not present in her life.”
“What does that have to do with anything?!” Ari asked, confused at Robert’s statement.
“The girl has major daddy issues, Ari,” Robert said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “All I gotta do is caress her a bit, say sweet nothings in her ear and bam! She will fall in love with me.”
“Do that and she will call the cops on you.”
“I’d like to see her try,” Robert remarked as he crossed his arms across his chest. “Besides, why do you care?”
“Because her mother is really starting to get concerned and-”
“Oh that's why you’re concerned!” Robert hooted. “You want to fuck the mom!”
“I do not want to have sex with her mom,” Ari declared with a serious tone. “The woman is stressed enough and I feel bad for her and I feel bad for the girl. I see her peek her head out of the door every morning to avoid you.”
“Ari?”
“Yes Rob?”
“Mind your business.”
The following morning was the same dreadful routine. You were trying to stall, not wanting to face Mr. Pronge though you knew he would be there. He always was. Even when you would try to leave at an earlier time. It’s like he would sleep there and wait for you.
Your mother shoved your car keys in your hand. “Sweetie, you need to go now before you’re late.”
“But what if he’s out there?” you asked with a slight hint of fear.
“Is he still bothering you?!” she questioned, her overprotectiveness coming out. “I’ve had enough, I’m going out there.”
“No! No! No!” you instantly said, jolting your hands out to stop her from taking another step. “Please don’t say anything. Mom please!”
Your pleads were granted. She stayed still as she squinted at the window, sending a silent threat to Mr. Pronge.
“Fine,” she said. “But If I hear or even get the feeling, I’m going to rip his nutsack and his stupid smirk off of him.”
“Wow,” you said with your eyes bulging out in shock.
���Sweetie, you’re too nice and a little bit–how can I put this?” she sarcastically questioned herself as she tilted her head to the side. “Oh yeah, you’re naive.”
“I am not naive,” you muttered under your breath, offended.
“Yes you are,” she said as she was walking out of the living room. “Now go to work!”
You grabbed your bag from the couch and swung it over your shoulder. Your hand went on the doorknob, turning it to open the door. You peek your head out to see if you’re one and only was out there waiting for you.
“He’s not there Sweet Pea!” Ari exclaimed. “You’re safe, you can come out!”
“Thanks!” you yelled from the door, fully stepping out. You confidently walked over to your car, happy Mr. Pronge wasn’t outside to terrorize you. Your happiness was soon cut off when you saw a complete flat tire.
“Dang it!” you cursed to yourself. You peered down at your watch, it was 6:41 A.M. You were trying to calculate how much time it would take to go on the bus and you heard the dreadful sound of boots hitting the road.
“Oh no,” you internally whined.
“Got a flat, Princess?” Mr. Pronge sarcastically asked. “I’ll give you a ride.”
Ari quickly stepped in. “Robert no.” You didn’t even hear him walk over to you. You looked at Ari in shock and sent a cry for help at the same time. “Leave her alone.”
“She needs a ride, I’m giving her a ride. What is the problem?” he challenged, taking a step closer to him.
“You’re not taking her.”
Robert straightened his back and puffed his chest out. “And why not?”
“Because I’m taking her. She was just getting something from her car.” Ari grabbed your bag from your hand and placed his hand on your lower back. “Lets go Sweet Pea,” he said as he guided you to his car, opening the door for you and handing you back your bag.
Robert stood in shock. Ari was taking you. And you let him. Though he couldn’t say he wasn’t impressed, he was just wondering how he did it. That lucky bastard.
The inside of his truck was bigger than you ever imagined. It was dirty and there were oil stains everywhere you looked. Wrenches were scattered across the floor along with bolts and lug nuts. The only thing that was almost impeccable was the air freshener hanging off the rearview mirror but there were five oil stained fingerprints on it.
“Thank you for the ride Mr. Levinson, you didn’t have to take me. I could've taken the bus.”
“Don’t even mention it Sweet Pea,” Ari said. “Plus I don’t think you wanted to ride with Rob now did you?”
“No,” you answered as you shook your head. “He scares me.”
“He scares you?” Ari repeated, barely shocked.
“Mhm,” you confirmed with a small hum. “He’s really big and mean. Everyone says he’s the nicest to me and if that’s true I don’t want to see him when he’s mad.”
“It’s true, he’s the nicest to you.” Ari found it weird when Robert wouldn’t constantly yell at you like he did with other people but he can see why. You’re the sweetest thing ever.
“Is that all?”
“Mr. Pronge used to bring women and–and they would come out screaming and crying. It frightened me.”
Robert used to bring women over all the time. They wouldn’t last for too long. They would run out of the house screaming all kinds of profanities after 3 weeks. You’ll never forget the moment a woman came to your house and asked if you had anything sharp. You gave her one of the knives from the kitchen. 5 minutes later the word asshole was embedded on the side of his car in big, bold letters.
You’ll also never forget the time another woman came to your trailer. She screamed while she banged on the door like a madman. When you opened the door she had red hand prints on her body and a barely carved ‘R’ on her exposed hip. She asked you to hide her because he was coming. Sure enough a minute later Mr. Pronge came, demanding you to show him where she was hiding. Luckily your brother was there to kick him out.
He could see why you were scared. Hell even that scared him a couple of times. For some reason Ari didn’t like the thought of you being scared. Hell, he could barely deal with the fact how uncomfortable Mr. Pronge made you.
When you approached the building Ari parked the car and exited out, lightly jogging over to your side and opening your door for you. He held out his hand to you to help you out of the truck, your hand delicately gripped his and he could feel the rush of dopamine releasing in his body.
“Thank you again Mr. Levinson!” you beamed with a bright smile. You raised yourself on your tippy toes and slightly bounced to place a thank you kiss on his cheek.
An unexplainable warmth rushed through him. The action was short and sweet but it made him feel weak in the knees. He would get cheek kisses from women quite a lot but it never felt like this.
“Anytime Sweet Pea.” He felt himself staring at your eyes for a little bit too long. He forced himself to look anywhere else for a brief second, making sure you didn’t grow uncomfortable. “What time do you want me to pick you up?”
“Oh it’s okay Mr. Levinson, I can take the bus or have my brother pick me up.”
“Are you sure?” he asked you again.
You nodded your head. “Thank you again! You’re a lifesaver.”
“Don’t even mention it,” he waves off.
You muttered a small goodbye to Mr. Levinson before taking off into the diner. He watched you go in with a small smile on his face.
Even though this was your first real interaction, he knew he wasn’t going to get enough of you. You were the most adorable thing he’s ever seen. The whole way back he thought of you. You were like a deadly plague in his mind. A beautiful, rose scented, warm plague.
Luckily your brother was able to pick you up after he got off of work. The next bus was going to come within another hour. When your brother picked you up, he was agitated.
“What happened to your tire?” your older brother asked, not amused at all.
“I don’t know.” You shrugged your shoulders. “I went outside this morning and it had a flat.”
“I helped Mr. Levinson changed the tire, it had 4 nails,” he said in a matter of fact one. “4.” he repeated as he held four fingers in the air.
“I’m sorry,” you weakly apologized.
“You need to pay more attention where you’re driving.”
“I didn’t mean to drive over the nails. There weren’t even any when I drove yesterday!” you protested. “I only drove to the library which is 2 minutes away.”
“So they magically appeared?” he sarcastically asked. “Just pay attention please.”
“I will.”
“You left your bus pass on the table this morning. How did you get to work? ” he questioned you. “Mr. Pronge didn’t take you, did he?” He turned to glance at you with a worried look.
“No, Mr. Levinson did,” you told your brother.
“Did you make it on time?” He quickly glanced at you again, “because you are horrible at giving directions.”
“Hey!” you barked at him. “I am not horrible at giving directions.”
“Yes you are.”
“Well lucky for me I didn’t even have to tell him, he already knew where to go,” you responded, “sure did save me the hassle.”
“Did you thank him?”
“Of course I did, I’m not rude,” you responded, half hurt he would think that of you.
The rest of the ride was short but your brother took the remaining 4 minute drive to lecture you once again to pay attention. You tried to zone him out but he would snap at you, telling you to listen. You knew he did it to annoy you, it was simply too easy to annoy you.
When you arrived at home, you jumped out of the car to look at the tire. Sure you had no idea what you were even looking at but it never hurt. You bent down to look at it and you noticed one thing. It wasn’t patched up like before. It was brand new.
“Are you coming in?” your brother asked you.
You turned to look at him. “Yeah, I just have to do something really quick.”
“Don’t take too long, I’ll be done cooking in 10 minutes.”
“I promise,” you told him before he went inside.
You took out a sticky note, a pen and 50 dollars that took you 4 days to earn. You used the hood of your car as a desk and wrote a sweet but short thank you on the sticky note. Afterwards you walked over to his house and placed it under the surprisingly alive flower pot he had on his front porch.
The both of you didn’t see each other for almost 2 days. You got overwhelmed with work that you barely were in the house. It wasn’t until Ari caught you late at the laundromat.
“Sweet Pea?”
You turned around at the sound of your name. “Oh hi Mr. Levinson,” you greeted him with a huge smile.
“What are you doing here so late?” he asked you though he could barely pay any attention to you at the moment. You wore a thin pastel pink cardigan with a pearly white nightgown that had a bow at the valley of your breasts.
“I forgot to do my laundry this morning and I didn’t have time so I came here after work,” you told him.
“Isn’t it a little late to be working?” he questioned you.
“I’ve been picking up other shifts at work,” you said, “it doesn’t help having the extra money.”
“Speaking of money,” he began to say as he took out the fifty you gave him from his front pocket of his flannel, “you left this on my porch.”
“Yeah it’s for you,” you innocently said, “I noticed the tire is brand new and I’m 90% sure my brother forgot to pay you.”
“It’s your money, I’m not taking it. Here.” He passed the money back to you but you refused.
“Keep it, you changed my tire and I’m paying you for your service.”
“I really can’t—”
“Please,” you begged him with puppy eyes.
You pulled at his heartstrings. It agonized him, he didn’t want to take your money but he also didn’t want to make you sad. But he kept it anyway and stuffed it back into the front pocket of his flannel.
“What are you doing here so late?” you asked him as you bent down and took out your now dry clothes.
His eyes peered down for a quick second and he saw the nightgown riding up, revealing your baby blue panties. His throat went dry and he fought hard to keep his gaze up but it found itself looking back down.
“I–I realized I forgot to wash my work clothes.”
“I hate when that happens.” You came back up after you pulled out the last piece of clothing. “Then I’m stuck getting yelled at by the manager when I come in with the wrong clothes.”
Ari chuckled to avoid an awkward silence. Really it was to refrain himself from stuttering or making a fool out of himself. In his head he wanted to compliment you and how pretty your nightgown was but the words wouldn’t leave the tip of his tongue.
He took a deep breath before he spoke. “You look pretty in your nightgown,” he quickly muttered out.
Your eyes lit up at his compliment. “Thank you Mr. Levinson. It’s pretty but I don’t think I’ll keep it.”
“Why’s that?”
“It always rides up and by morning it’s all the way up here,” you pointed to your upper stomach.
Oh what he would give to be a fly in the room in the morning. He quickly changed the conversation, it was obvious you were too oblivious to what you were doing to him. Your sweet voice and innocence were driving him insane but he loved it, he secretly wanted more.
The both of you left the laundromat 40 minutes later. He insisted on carrying your basket for you. You both walked side by side. You were busy trying to keep up with him while he was busy looking down at your breasts.
“Thank you for carrying my basket Mr. Levinson,” you thanked him as you took your basket from him when you got to your front porch.
“Anytime Sweet Pea.”
You kissed his cheek once again to seal your thank you. “Sweet dreams Mr. Levinson.”
“Sweet dreams honey,” he repeated to you.
Ari was in a rush to get back to his trailer but a dear beloved friend was waiting for him.
“Well would you look at that?” Robert sarcastically asked him. “She gave you a kiss on the cheek.”
“Not now Robert,” Ari pleaded, dying to get back into his place.
“What’s the big rush to get back home?” Robert crossed his arms as he smirked, “I see you’re sporting a hard on. Surely it can’t be because of her. Right?”
“Oh shut your trap.”
“It is, isn't it?!” he gawked.
“No it’s not!” Ari protested.
“Oh really?” Robert Challenged as he squinted his eyes.
“I was about to get lucky with Kim before she came into the laundromat and interrupted us,” Ari quickly lied.
“So you waited for her to be done then walked her back?” Robert questioned Ari.
“Of course I did,” he scoffed, “otherwise she would’ve ran into you. Not to mention she’s terrified of you, fuckin’ creep.”
“Whatever. She wants me, I know it,” Robert boasted.
“Yeah in jail.”
Robert rolled his eyes and walked back to his trailer while Ari walked back into his. He immediately locked the door behind him and dropped the basket on the floor.
“Oh thank god,” Ari hissed as he unzipped his painfully tight pants.
His cock was rock hard and had been for the past 20 minutes. The pants barely gave him any friction and if anything, made it worse. He palmed himself through his boxers and moaned in relief.
All he can think about is you in the short nightgown and how he’s never been this hard before. Sure he’s been turned on but it was nothing compared to this. It was like he was a horny spazzy teenager all over again.
He freed his cock from his boxers and sharply inhaled at the impact of the cold air. The tip of his cock was bright red and oozing with precum. He used his thumb to spread his precum and use it as lube.
His eyes screwed shut in bliss when he began pumping up and down. He tried to think of the porn he watched three days ago but instead you kept popping up. He imagined you being here with him, helping him out.
“Does that hurt?” you ask him as you point to his angry, leaking cock.
“It does Sweet Pea,” he rasped out.
“Was it because of me?” you innocently ask him as you bat your lashes.
“Yes,” he admits.
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to,” you apologize to him. “Let me help you,” you tell him as you take his cock into your tiny, warm hand.
“Oh Sweet Pea,” he moans out.
“You’re s-so bi-big,” you sputter out, slowly pumping him up and down. “Does that feel better?”
He doesn’t have the strength to talk so instead he nods eagerly. “G-Go a little bit faster.”
You obey him and start pumping faster. His moans fill the room as he gets lost in the pleasure you’re giving him. Your hand is cramping but you don’t care, anything to make him feel good.
“Sweet Pea, I-I’m about to cum,” he warns you.
You get down on your knees while you still pump him. “Let it all go,” you seductively say as you open your mouth.
Ari was brought back to reality when his high overtook him and he orgasmed. It was so intense his thighs started to shake. He continued pumping and pumping until he got too sensitive he had to stop.
He stood there with his cum dripping down his hand and secretly wishing you were there to help clean it all up. The realization had hit him hard, he needed you.
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