#frat!au
Text
where the fun begins, 2 * ls2 (ms47)
it’s friday: logan throws the party he’s claims he’s having just for you to come around, not even knowing if you’ll be attending
pairings: frat!logan x reader, college!mick x reader
notes: um im on my phone in school i dont have a word count and neither did i plan on making this this long… sry guys uwu hope u like it (i’m desperately running out of logan gifs pls help me)
biggest thanks to @angsthology for helping me out with the white man fight and smug logan because i couldnt, for the life of me, figure that scene out so thank yew baby :*
(f1 masterlist)
| one | two | three | four |
friday rolls around, two days since logan had seen you in the bowling alley with another guy. he also spent the last two days organising a party, completely last minute, sending the entire house into a frenzy to set it in stone.
typically, parties are structured and planned at least two weeks ahead of time. but this time is different.
he can't ignore the frustration that clouds his thoughts when he thinks of that night. or you, in general. all he sees is you wrapped around someone else's arms.
he's been watching the door for the past hour, curious if you had taken him up on his invitation. it's been two hours since the start of the party, and logan knows damn well that word has gotten around about their open house party.
it should have been invitational only, as they usually host their parties. but it's way too last minute to make it an exclusive party. so, they made sure word got around.
he knows that you know what time the party starts. because mick's friends have already made their way into the frat house, drowning in alcohol and pressed up against girls on the dance floor. he only wonders if you would ever come by.
logan folds his arms over his chest, smiling smugly as he watches the crowd pour into the dimly lit home. he turns to oscar. "see? i told you i could pull it off."
oscar stops next to him, hands in his pockets. "i got to say – this is the most effort i've seen you put in a girl," oscar teases, glancing at his friend from the corners of his eyes. "you must really like her."
"i just don't like losing," logan scoffs with an eye roll. "especially not to some loser like the guy she's with."
losing? no, he is jealous. but he would rather abolish this entire party as a whole than admit that to anybody.
"schumacher?" oscar laughs, throwing his head back. "he's not even a loser, mate. have you even talked to him?"
"whose side are you on, dude?" logan frowns, throwing his arms in the air. "there is a wrong answer to this question."
oscar rolls his eyes and punches logan. objectively speaking, he is on mick's side; for your sake. but in a friend perspective, he’ll always be on logan’s side. but even he can admit logan’s a bit of a dick sometimes.
"whatever, dude." he smiles to himself, watching liam open the door to let another crowd in. "it's a very well-put-together party. i'm surprised. where did you get the keg on such short notice?"
logan has this shit-eating grin on his face, one that oscar desperately wants to wipe off. but he can only step back and watch the downfall of all his antics. it's funnier that way.
"frederik knows a guy."
oscar raises an eyebrow. "alright, mate." he pats logan on the back. "liam’s hosting the beer pong. let’s go?”
logan shakes his head, staring at the door with his arms folded over his chest. “later.”
“staring at the door won’t increase the chances of her coming,” oscar hums proudly, patting him on the back. he pushes him through the crowd of college students and massages his shoulder as he tries to find where liam had set up the table. "and anyway, they're coming after pre-drinks."
logan stops in his tracks. "how do you know that?"
oscar steps back with a smirk. "lily told me. did i not update you on that?" he sighs dramatically and rolls his eyes. "must have slipped my mind."
he knew, since the night logan plotted this party, that you and your friends would be pre-drinking before coming here. another reason you're apparently dragging your feet here is for lily – not wanting her to be alone in a frat house.
as honest of a guy oscar tries to keep himself, it doesn't remove suspicion from him trying to take advantage of her. understandable and respectable. so he told you to take your time.
"dude!" logan scowls, shoving oscar back. "that's vital information you should have told me ages ago! i've watched the door like a fucking hawk all night waiting to see if she's coming."
"it's funnier this way," oscar giggles. "also, it's because i'm dating lily."
"you're what? since when? why didn't you tell me earlier?"
"way before you started seeing her. but you're focused on the wrong thing, mate."
"i doubt that, actually."
"oi, beer pong bitches!" liam screams, his hands cupped over his mouth as he beckons for the pair to approach him. he's knelt on a bar stool to catch their attention in the crowd. "logan is up first for the public versus the house."
logan chuckles, slowly making his way towards the beer pong table once more. "are you sure? i'm undefeated, mate," he turns to his friends, "you'll never get your turn if i'm up first."
frederik grins, gesturing towards the rows of red cups filled with sizzling cheap beer. "we wanna see how long you last."
oscar giggles, patting his back. "revenge for making us scramble to put together this party at such short notice."
"and anyway," liam laughs breathily, stumbling into logan's body. he takes a sip from the red cup in his hand. "we have another table for the casual games by the pool."
"and i don't get to play at that table? how rude," logan scoffs, stepping towards the table. he spreads his arms out as he looks around the crowd. "any takers?"
there are a couple who try taking logan down in his own game of beer pong. but as someone who's always in attendance at every party on campus, he's simply mastered the game – how to distract his opponents when he's losing, how to throw them off the game, and how to hit the ball into the cups.
he's figured it all out.
the games pass by very quick, and logan only drinks a couple of cups out of the 6 opponents that are brave enough to step up to the challenge.
"seriously?" logan giggles, slightly intoxicated from the beer. he watches the previous guy walking away, greeted by his group of friends and consolations for a 'nice try'. but logan knows it wasn't a good try. he didn't have a fighting chance at beating him. "where's the real challenge?"
"i could probably beat you."
he hears a chorus of 'oh's from his own friends crowded behind him, lifting his head to meet a pair of blue ones. he sees you first, hands on someone else's body and an arm wrapped around your shoulders. his eyes land on mick, smugly grinning at him with a hand inside the pocket of his jacket nonchalantly.
"yo, isn't that-"
"liam, read the room."
logan doesn't notice lily threading the edge of the makeshift circle over to his side, greeting oscar with a smile. he tilts his head at mick. "you think you can beat me? i'm undefeated, bro."
he sees you whispering something at mick, swatting at him with a small smile. logan knows that look: the flushed cheeks, swollen lips and slightly smudged mascara under your eyes. you'd drunk a little too much during your pre-drinks.
and so do you with logan: the heaving, permanent sly lazy grin and slumped shoulders. you even notice the way he's already slurring at his words.
"mick, should you really be entertaining this?"
mick smiles down at you, squeezing you with a soft shake. "just a bit of fun. we're at a party after all. i'll keep it friendly."
"i know you will. but will he?"
"trust me?"
you tilt your head and lift an eyebrow. you sigh with a small smile, "fine."
"asking for permission?" logan scoffs. "what are you, scared?"
mick scrunches his nose, lifting his hands from you. "no, mate. reassuring her," he smiles. he slowly tears his jacket off of his arms.
logan clenches his jaw at the sheer audacity when mick turns around and hands you his jacket. he feels a wave of anger, something he's never felt before, rising in his chest when mick leans down and presses a quick kiss to your red cheeks.
this might just be jealousy. but it's an emotion so foreign to logan that he doesn't even notice it. in his head, he's just mad that he's lost you to this guy.
someone rumoured to have gotten into the school through his dad’s connections.
"you sure you wanna embarrass yourself in front of her?" logan asks sweetly, biting down on his bottom lip. "one more chance to back out, schumacher."
mick shrugs and steps towards logan. "all in, mate."
"just making sure you don't embarrass your little girlfriend," logan grins, craning his neck slightly and squints his eyes down at you. "you don't want everyone to see him lose to me, do you? you should advise him otherwise."
you don't even get a chance to react before mick steps into logan's line of vision to you. "don't bring her into this."
logan scoffs, eyeing mick up and down. he furrows his eyebrows and tilts his head. "huh?"
"let's keep this friendly?" mick smiles. he extends his hand towards logan.
logan's gaze trails to the hand held out in front of him. he chuckles dryly before turning away, earning another chorus of gasps and shocked whispers around him, walking over to his side of the table. "you know how to play beer pong, don't you?"
mick purses his lips together, retracting his arm before padding over to his spot. "yeah."
liam looks between them, drunkenly filling up the new set of cups with beer. the kiwi can only hope that they keep talking so that he doesn't have to rush with the cups.
"i can teach you if you'd like."
"no, i think i can handle myself."
"alrighty," liam stands, clasping his hands together. "enough yapping. play the stupid game, you guys. it's just beer pong."
logan remembers a time when you used to be in this crowd. cheering for him instead of some random guy you met in one of your classes. you should be on the other side of the crowd next to oscar and arthur.
logan doesn’t do great with losing. if that hasn’t been implied, he doesn’t know any other way to show it.
mick crosses his arms over his torso. “make a shot, reigning champ.”
“i can be generous,” logan scrunches his nose, pressing his lips together. “guests first.”
the boy across the table shrugs. the game doesn’t go by as fast as the previous ones that logan plays. mick was actually true to his word, knowing how to play the game.
logan’s drank more cups than he’s ever in the entirety of the evening. he has to take a couple of deep breaths, staring down at the table when mick hits the ball into the last cup on his side.
he lost. he… lost? how is that possible?
“good game,” mick smiles with a polite nod across the table.
logan scans the table, taking his last cup into his hand. he hadn’t even stood a chance against mick. he still had more than half his set on the table.
mick swiftly turns around, ready to approach you when logan speaks. “one more?”
“mate-“
oscar taps liam on the shoulder, his one arm around lily’s shoulders, and grins. “no, let him do what he wants,” he glances at lily, who is smiling back at him, “i wanna see how this goes.”
“he’s gonna get himself into a fight, oscar,” liam mutters, pointing at logan. “you know him.”
“let him,” oscar shrugs. “he’s an adult — he knows what he’s getting into.”
“one more?” mick asks, halfway towards you. “are you sure?”
“yeah. best of three?”
“logan,” frederik calls out, pressing his lips into a thin line and shaking his head. “mate. he beat you fair and square.”
“no, it’s alright,” mick smiles. “no hard feelings.”
“very hard feelings,” logan mutters to himself, reaching to the side to open a beer can to replenish everything himself. “you stole my girlfriend.”
liam quickly takes over logan, swatting his hands away as he fills one cup sloppily with half of the liquid trickling down the side.
the next game goes by even quicker than before, the entire duration flashing right in front of logan’s eyes. he’s lost again. at least, it was closer this time. it was tied down to one last cup. mick simply played his shot better.
in normal circumstances, maybe logan would have just taken the loss as one would. but this is mick we’re talking about. logan will be anything but diplomatic about it.
“you had me nervous for a moment there!” you giggle. you move your arm out to avoid spilling the cocktail that frederik very graciously mixed for you during the game. “i thought you were going to have to play the third round.”
mick laughs breathily, blinking rapidly with a hand on his chest. “me too. i’m filled with alcohol,” he laughs, sweeping you into his arms. he pressed a sloppy kiss to your cheek, lifting you slightly from the ground. “let’s go whenever you want to?”
“aw, mate,” frederik sighs, heading over to mick. “house rules: the winner stays until defeated.”
“no way,” you whine, jokingly tearing frederik’s hands from mick. “i wanna head to the bar and get another drink with him!”
“fuck this,” logan mutters, throwing the racket down on the table. he snatches the last cup on the table and glances over at you excitedly bouncing as mick swept you up into his arms.
he rolls his eyes, whirling around and heading towards the backyard of the house.
mick hums as you engage in a conversation with frederik, his hand still on your waist. “um, hold on,” he whispers, tapping you gently. “i’ll go check on him. he looks mad.”
you tug on his shirt. “no, he’ll be okay. he’s just a sore loser, mick.”
he laughs, shaking his head as he detaches himself from your grasp. “i just wanna ask him if he’s okay. i’ll meet you guys at the bar.”
you hum hesitantly, letting go of his hands finger by finger. frederik nudges you in the direction of the bar where oscar and lily are already walking towards.
mick steps out into the backyard, hopeful to find the blonde that turned his back on them. while he didn’t frequent petty fights, logan’s reactions are just very entertaining to him. all because he had failed to appreciate your presence when he was blessed with it and mick stepped up to take you out on a date.
and when he was hearing whispers about logan remaining undefeated at the beer pong table, he took up on the chances. perhaps the alcohol made him feel slightly competitive.
he’s ashamed to admit that he let his ego get the best of him and that’s why he stepped up to logan’s challenge.
“mate,” mick announces his presence, slowly approaching logan sitting on one of the sun beds by the pool. “i hope you didn’t take the game to heart.”
“fuck off,” logan mutters, dropping his head low. he picks at the grass under the bed and clenches his jaw. “what are you doing here anyway? shouldn’t you be celebrating with your girlfriend?”
“she’s not my girlfriend.” logan looks up, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “yet.”
“seriously, what’s your deal? have you just come here to parade in my face that you got the girl or something?” logan pushes himself up to his feet. “i get it, man.”
mick sighs. “no. i was checking on you. you look like you had too much to drink there.”
“i don’t need you babysitting me,” logan shakes his head and folds his arms over his chest. “i’m a grown adult.”
“do you need some water? i don’t imagine you feel so good after chugging that much beer,” mick mutters under his breath. “you should really sit down.”
“don’t act like you care.”
“logan,” mick sighs, closing his eyes momentarily to let his frustration pass. “iced or room temp water?”
logan rolls his eyes. “stop acting all saint-like, man. i know you wanna hit me.”
“mate, i do not want to hit you.”
“for sure, you do. you just don’t know it yet.” logan shoves his hands into his pockets. he takes a step forward. “we all know you want to hit me. just do it.”
mick takes note of the step he takes, but stays planted into the ground. “i don’t want to fight you.”
“i know you do. the urge just hasn’t clawed at you yet,” logan grins sloppily. another step forward. “or are you holding back? because she doesn’t like messy guys and you’re scared you’ll lose her it you throw a punch?”
“i’m not holding back. fighting is a waste of time — i don’t like it.”
“she’s very conservative, dude, but she’s very forgiving,” logan nods, looking into the glass doors that lead into the house. he tries to spot you in the crowd but when he doesn’t, he returns his attention to mick. “you’re allowed a couple mistakes.”
“i’m not taking advantage of her like that.”
“i’m not asking you to take advantage of her kindness. i’m telling you that if you need to throw a punch or two, she will definitely forgive you. no need to be scared.”
mick laughs slightly, throwing his hands into the air to surrender. “i’m really not looking to fight with you. that’s beyond me, mate.”
“she appreciates when you let loose a little bit,” logan nods to himself. “why do you think we were going out all those months together? it’s not just cause i won her over with my charm, ya know. she’s got a bit of a wild side, mate.”
mick tilts his head, squinting slightly. he appreciates the extent logan is going to just to rile him up.
“if you don’t know that, then maybe she’s just not comfortable with you.” one more step forward. “i know so well a side of her even you’ve never seen before.”
“do you?”
“yeah,” logan answers in a low tone. he drops his head, one corner of his lips turning up into a smirk. “she’s got that perfect picture smile from a magazine, but you should have seen her when we went to this one party on campus.”
“ah. so?”
“do you know that she gets touchy when she consumes tequila?” logan perks up innocently. “very brave — she’s taken body shots before, you know. off of me?”
“okay? that was a frat party; of course you guys would host that kind of activity. i was there when that happened.”
logan ignores the jabs at the fraternity.
“kissed her yet? in case you haven’t, she tastes like those strawberry mints she always keep a tin of inside her pocket. they’re very minty, but it’s lovely.”
mick grins, pursing his together. “yeah, i know.”
“have you seen her in that one baby doll dress that she likes wearing a lot? what about her yellow sundress that barely covers her thighs?” logan pouts his bottom lip out. “it’s a scene when the wind comes by.”
“mate, you’re kind of crossing a line now,” the german chuckles. “don’t talk about her like that. i know you like her too.”
logan takes another step forward, eager to find that one trigger in mick. “do you know the mole she’s got on her hip? on the left side of her lower back. it’s really really visible when you’re fuc–“
“aw, fuck’s sake!”
logan almost bursts into laughter when he realises what had happened. his back meets the land of grass in the backyard, a pain shooting through his face. when he looks up, a crowd has formed around them during their conversation and liam is already knelt by his side.
lifting his head, he sees mick covering his face with both hands. he runs his hands through his hair as he looks down at logan with wide eyes, hands cupping his warm cheeks. “oh, my god. oh my god.”
oscar and lily pour out of the glass doors with a crowd following them out, the australian raising his eyebrows at his best friend lying back on the ground with a bloody nose.
“logan?” oscar asks, already knowing that he’s probably done or said something to trigger the normally calm headed man in front of him. “what did you do?”
logan scoffs, letting liam help him to sit on the sun bed. “i have the bloody nose and you’re asking me what i did? why don’t you ask him? he hit me.” logan points at mick as he takes the tissues that liam is putting into his hands.
oscar stares at logan. “really? you’re going with that?”
“yeah,” logan grins, glancing at mick. he presses the tissues to his nose, hissing when pain shoots through his face again at the contact. “god, dude. you don’t look like it but you can throw a punch.”
mick nurses his knuckle, taking a couple of steps back. “i know, mate. i’m not stupid.”
you stumble out of the glass doors, heaving as frederik keeps a firm grip on your shoulders. you were in one of the bathrooms upstairs — where it’s exceptionally cleaner — when mick threw the punch (frederik was holding your purse waiting for you outside the door).
when you made your way back down, the crowd inside the house halved. frederik would tap ollie, taking body shots off of someone, asking where everyone had gone.
and ollie, lying back on the table as he put salt on his stomach, pointed to the backyard and muttered something about a possible fight. “logan, maybe,” he muttered before promptly shooing you away.
you look at mick first, who has his shoulders slumped with oscar and lily by his side and is staring at you with guilt all over his face. then you look at logan, being nursed by liam and someone else, with a tissue and an ice pack against his face.
“yeah?” logan perks up with a scoff at you. “can’t pick who to nurse?”
@cashtons-wife @localwhoore @vroomvroomcircuit @foreveralbon @what-is-happening-helpp
#logan sargeant x reader#logan sargeant x you#mick schumacher x reader#mick schumacher x you#f1 x reader#f1 x you#f1 fanfic#f1 fanfiction#disneyprincemuke#disneyprincemuke imagine#disneyprincemuke imagines#disneyprincemuke f1#frat!au
252 notes
·
View notes
Text
the hunt - frat boy!atsumu/f!reader (haikyuu!)
tags: not NSFW but not NOT NSFW if that makes sense, inspired by this art by @/hlxtn, mentions of alcohol, typical frat party debauchery, college!au, greek system!au, reader is in a sorority, atsumu has a lip piercing and is a whore, making out, heavy petting, graphic depictions of graphic depictions, gratuitous headboard knocking, this atsumu makes me want to scream, word count 3k
The brief is simple: a scavenger hunt of sorts.
It’s just a bit of friendly competition between you and your fellow sorority sisters, not unusual for the chapter president and the upper ranking sisters to orchestrate. At 8:00PM on the dot, everyone received a joint text message with a list of items to retrieve or tasks to complete to earn points—for tasks without a physical trophy, a simple photo as proof would do the trick—and once the clock strikes midnight, the participants who've managed to scavenge the most points would be the winners, and those with the lowest points would face a forfeit.
And finally, throughout the night there would be bonus points come up for grabs in the form of special challenges.
Like the one currently lighting up the screen of your phone.
(11:00PM) INZ hookup - 100 points for a pledge, 500 points for pres, 250 points for everyone else.
(11:00PM) Current ranking: 12/25. 1 hour remaining.
“How far are we from the Iota house?” you ask, leaning forward against the restraint of your seatbelt and gripping the headrest of the drivers seat in front of you.
“A couple blocks,” your friend (and fellow sorority sister) behind the wheel says in confusion, “why?”
You and a few of your closest friends had wandered out that night to amass points together. You were all doing pretty well, but according to the rankings that are sent out every half hour, none of you have even broken the top 10.
And now there's only an hour left.
“Go there next,” you say decisively.
“Are you nuts?” another sister smushed into the backseat with you squeaks, “hooking up with an Iota is…”
Practically a death sentence. At least socially. You all know it.
To call the boys of the INZ frat run-through would be a disservice to the word. Their reputation among the other greeks is NOT one to be trifled with. The boys themselves, beyond being philandering, are more than a little rough around the edges. They’re known for starting fights (and finishing them) and save for their chapter president Kita, and a few standouts among the brothers, they’re not generally considered the shining gold standard of Greek Life. The Iotas are the direct cause of more than a few of the sanctions your university has imposed on the Greek system in recent years, even against Kita's best efforts to keep them in line.
But still, that many points may just be too gleaming of an opportunity for you to pass up.
There’s a party in full swing when you pull up to the INZ house, because it's a Friday night so of course there is.
“Do you see anyone else here?” you ask your friends as you step into the fray, raising your voice to be heard over the pulsating music rattling through the house. You’re all wearing shirts with your sorority’s greek letters on them, so any fellow sisters should be easy to spot, though you can’t make any out from where you stand near the door.
“No,” one of your friends says, pressing close to your back to avoid being run over by a few passing partygoers chasing after someone in a hoodie with a quart of rum tucked under his arm. “Hey, are you sure this is a good idea?”
Of course it’s not. But the last time you lost one of these little challenges you were stuck vacuuming the entire sorority house for two months, and you weren’t eager to experience it again.
“How much time is left?” you ask, pulling your cellphone from your pocket.
11:12 your screen reads.
“Around 45 minutes,” your friend confirms what you know to be true once you see the time on your screen. Your eyes scan the party, landing on a figure on the edge of the crowd in an INZ hoodie with a red solo cup in his hands.
And a terrible, horrible, perfect idea comes to mind.
You unlock your phone.
'Claiming this task!' you type as you cross the party, leaving your friends behind.
The President replies immediately to your claim.
(11:15PM) Which Iota?
You send your answer without a second thought.
The boy in the INZ hoodie doesn’t see you coming as you sidle up beside him, so when you put a hand on the sleeve of his sweatshirt and crane up on your tiptoes to get close to his ear he stiffens slightly in surprise.
“Hi,” you say into his ear to be heard over the music blaring through the crowded house, your fingers twisting into the material of his sleeve, “you don’t know me, but I really need a favour.”
And that’s how you end up in Atsumu Miya’s bedroom in the Iota Nu Zeta frat house, standing on he opposite side of the room as he sits perched on the edge of his bed.
“Yer tellin’ me ya want me to pretend to fuck ya?” he asks, a brow quirked under the band of his backwards cap. “All fer some… bet?”
“It’s not a bet,” you correct him (not for the first time), “it’s a scavenger hunt.”
“And I’m the thing yer huntin’?” he's teasing you now, and you know it.
“It doesn’t have to be you,” you huff, your lips pursing, “and if you’re gonna keep wasting my time I can go ask—“
“Now wait a minute,” he interrupts you before you can even dangle the threat before him, “now that I know yer trying to cheat the system, whose t’say I don’t send a text of my own to that pretty little president of yours and tell her what yer schemin’?”
“You wouldn’t,” you say, your nose crinkling up in irritation.
Atsumu grins, and the piercing on his bottom lip catches in the light of the lamp that sits on the table between the two twin XL beds in the tiny, untidy room. You assume he shares it with his twin brother, though you really don’t have much to base that assumption other than the fact you know he has one. The room is a bit neater on the side Atsumu is not sitting on, so you infer that Osamu is also the tidier twin between the two of them.
“Nah, I wouldn’t,” he laughs, “I kinda like seein’ ya play dirty.”
You huff, crossing your arms over your chest.
“You guys always seem so…” Atsumu goes on, waving his hand in the air vaguely.
“Rule-abiding?” you offer.
“Stuck up,” he corrects you.
He’s not necessarily wrong for thinking it, even if it does irk you. Your sisterhood is one of the more reserved greek chapters on campus—elite even, if you dared to say it. Sure, the scavenger hunt you find yourself partaking in that evening might not seem it, but the fact of the matter is that you guys aren’t inherently morally superior to any of the other greek houses - you’re just better at not getting caught.
Something that seems utterly beyond the Iota brothers.
Which is exactly why you need it to be him.
“Are you gonna help me or not?” you finally ask, sighing warily.
“What’s in it for me?” Atsumu counters your appeal.
“I’ll give you all my precal notes ahead of the midterm next week.”
Atsumu furrows his brow. “We’re in the same precal class?” he asks.
Your expression flattens.
“Unfortunately, yes,” you grit out, “which you might know if you didn’t spend every class napping.”
“Wait…”—he purses his lips, eyes scanning over your face—“we have a midterm next week?”
You feel something throb palpably behind your eyes.
“Yes,” you manage to get out even though your jaw is clenched firmly shut. "God you're hopeless."
"Yer awfully rude for someone who's tryin' to use me fer my body," Atsumu says, smirking when he sees the way your expression shifts into one of even further annoyance at his taunt. He leans back on his bed, resting his weight on his elbows. “So, what do I have to do here?”
“Just… take your shirt off and take a picture with me in bed with you,” you say, though it physically pains you to say the words. To have to stoop so low.
He quirks a brow mischievously. “Oh, ’s that all?”
“And keep your hands to yourself,” you tack on pointedly.
Atsumu snorts, lifting his hands in innocence.
“You got it, princess.”
Just as Atsumu shifts his weight forward, and his hand reaches behind his neck to grab at the collar of his hoodie, your cellphone jingles.
You reach for it, and see that it’s a message from the sorority president. You unlock the device to reveal the message.
It’s a picture of a door.
The very door you presently find yourself behind.
Another message pops up in the chat.
(11:29) Recruited a bit of backup! You’ve got a little crowd waiting for proof, just to be safe ;)
And then another.
(11:30) Current ranking: 15/25. 30 minutes remaining.
“Fuck,” you mutter, miserable at the turn of events - and your drop in the rankings.
“What’s wrong?” Atsumu asks.
“There are people out there…” your voice drops quieter, your eyes flickering over to the door on the other side of the room. “Waiting for… proof.”
The information seems to process slowly in Atsumu’s brain, and his eyes widen as the facts click into place.
“Ohhh…” he trails off. “They want a real show, huh?”
“Sorry for dragging you into this,” you sigh, “it was stupid, just forget I-“
Atsumu catches your wrist in his hand, tugging you forward before you can step away towards the door in defeat. You peer down at him as you stand between his parted thighs, confused.
“I never said I couldn’t give ‘em one.”
Your face flushes.
“Don’t be stu-“
“I’ll keep my hands to myself,” he says, letting his grip on your wrist fall, “we just gotta get a bit more… creative about it ’s all.”
You chew on the corner of your lip.
You really hate vacuuming.
“Alright,” you muster your resolve, offering him your hand for a handshake.
“And ya owe me all your notes right up until the final,” Atsumu tacks on, just before he clasps your hand in his.
You huff, closing the distance between your palms and taking his hand in a shake. You can’t help but notice how much larger his hand is than yours.
“Fine, whatever.”
Atsumu is… frighteningly good at putting on a show.
He turns out the lamp on his bedside table so there’s no light peeking out from the crack under the door, he turns on music like he’s trying (and failing) to drown out any possible noise that might make it out, and he rocks his sturdy bed frame into the wall in a steady, unmistakable rhythm.
“Hey,” he grunts out on a particularly hard knock of the wooden frame against the wall, his voice is barely above a whisper. “Ya gotta make some noise, y’know. Yer gonna ruin my rep.”
“What do you mean?” you whisper back, still standing frozen just beside the bed, more than a little awkwardly.
“Y’know, moan or whatever,” he hisses back.
“I can’t do that!” you snap.
“Yeah fuckin’ right,” he mutters, and you have half a mind to smack him. But before you have the chance to, a strong arm circles your waist and pulls you down.
You squeak in fright. “Atsumu!”
He has you pinned underneath his body before you know it, practically nose to nose with him, his hands returning to their place on the headboard to give it another knock against the wall.
Your eyes have adjusted to the dimness in the room since he turned out the lamp, and you can make out his features even though it’s dark. He’s smirking, that little silver hoop at the edge of his lip caught between his teeth.
“There ya go,” he snickers, “just like that.”
“You told me you’d keep your hands to yourself,” you mutter lowly.
“Sacrifices must be made,” he shrugs, and gives the headboard another loud, incriminating knock.
It’s preposterous the situation you find yourself in, pinned underneath Atsumu god damn Miya of all people. Pretending to fuck him.
How the hell did you end up here?
“Ow,” you complain quietly when a particularly rough knock makes the back of your head hit the headboard.
“Shit, sorry,” Atsumu mutters. He slides an arm underneath your back. “Here.”
He grunts, flipping the two of you over so you’re straddling his waist and he’s the one against the headboard in his tiny little bed. His baseball cap falls off in the scuffle, leaving the strands of his blonde hair loose.
“’S that better?” he asks.
It’s not actually, because this feels a hell of a lot more compromising than it had a second before.
“Ya just gotta push against the headboard like this,”—he takes your hands in his, guiding them up over his shoulders to grip the wooden bed frame, pressing them back until it knocks into the wall—“see?”
“Okay,” you murmur, still a little dazed from the sudden role reversal, repeating the motion.
You go slower than he had as you get the hang of it, distracted by how close his face is to yours. How you can feel his breath against your mouth.
It smells like spearmint gum and cheap beer.
You lick your lips.
“This more the pace you like?” Atsumu asks, smiling crookedly as he remarks on the tempo you’ve set, his hands settling on your waist.
“Watch your hands,” you snap quietly, and his touch retreats as you stretch back as far as you can from him without losing your grip on the headboard.
“You’re still bein’ pretty quiet,” Atsumu comments. “You really gonna make me do everything?”
“What do you-“
“Ohhhh, fuck.”
Atsumu’s moan is so loud that it startles you, and you let go of the headboard to slap your hand over his mouth in surprise. He grunts a little as you pitch forward, your palm muffling the sound.
“You tryin’ to win this thing or not?” he asks you pointedly once you pull your hand away.
“Sorry,” you mutter, acutely aware of the fact you can feel the slickness of spit on your palm, “you just… surprised me.”
He hums.
“I’d say we’ve probably sold it at this point anyway,” he says with a little sigh. “As long as we go back out there lookin’ a bit scruffy, no one’ll know.”
You chew on the inside of your mouth as you mull over his words.
“What?” he asks, noticing your hesitation.
You swallow, reaching up and touching the side of your neck.
“You should give me a hickey.”
Atsumu’s eyes go as wide as saucers.
“Yer jokin’.”
You shake your head. “It’s like… incontrovertible proof right? It’s not like I could give myself one.”
His eyes search your face for any sign of deception.
“Ya don’t seem like the type who’d let someone mark ya.”
“I’m not,” you say, suppressing a shiver as his pointer finger loops under the neckline of your t-shirt, tugging it gently to the side. “You seem like the type to leave marks, though.”
Atsumu leans forward and chuckles, his breath is warm against your throat.
“Yeah, guess I am.”
Atsumu’s mouth is hot as it descends upon your pulse point, lips closing around the skin.
“Oh,” you gasp, your hands tangling in the blonde’s hair without thinking as he sucks at the sensitive part of your neck. His own hands have settled on your waist, and this time you don’t tell him to remove them.
“Atsumu,” you whimper as his teeth scrape over the skin he’s been suckling against, making you dizzy.
“Tell me to stop,” he murmurs into your throat, his hands slipping up under the hem of your t-shirt where his fingertips meet skin.
You don’t say anything.
Atsumu flips you over, and this time there’s nothing deceptive about the way the headboard knocks into the wall.
His hands are still up your shirt, his lips still on your neck, and your legs wrap themselves around his waist as you writhe against his bedsheets.
“D’ya know why,”—Atsumu interrupts himself to drag his teeth along the edge of your jaw—“I was so shocked we’re in the same class?”
You shake your head minutely, your fingers twisted into the material of his hoodie over his chest. You watch his lips part in a smile, eyes fixed to that little piercing again.
“Because I’ve had a crush on ya since first year,” he murmurs, “and if I’d known ya were there, then I wouldn’t of been nappin’.”
Atsumu kisses you—finally—and you can’t help the sound that slips out of you at the feeling of his lips slotting against yours.
His mouth tastes like spearmint and beer.
His piercing presses gently into your lips as his part against yours, his tongue slipping forward to taste you too.
His hands grab at anything and everything they can reach.
Somewhere distantly, you feel you’ve played right into his hand. You recognize that you weren’t the only one who had been scheming tonight.
On Atsumu’s floor, your discarded cellphone lights up with yet another missed message.
(11:45PM) Proof received +250 points
(11:46PM) No idea you had it in you LOL
(12:00AM) Final ranking: 2nd place
You don’t see the texts until much, much later.
#atsumu x reader#atsumu x you#atsumu miya x reader#atsumu miya x you#hq drabble#hq fic#hq writing#writing#fratsumu#frat!au
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
can i walk you home?
9. odd east
⇀ wc 1.2k
⇀ warnings maybe angst if you squint, reader talks about how they smell, two dorks who are both so awkward and so dumb but one more so than the other
chan had told you to just wait in the lobby of the dance building, so that’s where you are now, scrolling on your phone with your dance bag thrown over your shoulder. you had texted the skz president to ask which one of the guys was picking you up but you assume he had gotten distracted by his latest project as he had failed to text you back. chan had been the only one to take you back to your dorm previously but you couldn’t think of a member of skz that would be a bad choice in this situation.
you’re getting ready to text chan again to find out where your “buddy” is when the front door to the building opens and you look up to find none other than yang jeongin. you’re about to ask how he could get in, the building doors lock after 6pm except for majors or students in current dance courses, but he beats you to it once he spots you.
"i'm in the intro to movement course," he supplies nervously, gesturing to the doors behind him and you realize you must have worn your confusion on your face. he clears his throat as he glances down to your feet quickly, avoiding your gaze.
this is kind of how the boy had been for the past few weeks as you'd both grown from simply classmates to study buddies, rarely making eye contact and almost never staying still, always fidgeting just slightly whenever you'd initiate conversation or glance his way. similarly now he stands several feet in front of you with hands clasped and shoulders hunched slightly, fingers playing with the rings he always wore as he waits for you to, you assume, respond.
instead you simply nod, clearing your own throat gently before gesturing toward the doors jeongin had just entered. "are you," you trail off with a light shake of your head in a mix of confusion and question.
"right! yes," he scrambles to answer, head suddenly shooting up to look at you before he steps to the side and stretches his arm toward the doors. "can i walk you home?" he asks seeming almost nervous you'll say no even though you were the one to request the service.
"yes please," you answer with a slight chuckle and sharp nod of your head before taking the few steps to the doors and he shuffles along behind you.
once you're outside the building, jeongin takes one large step to his right, placing a few feet of distance between the two of you and you're suddenly hyperaware of the fact that you probably smell like a mix of the fading body spray you'd applied earlier today, several hours worth of sweat, and the ultra specific scent of the dance studio, a room that sports its own mix of not entirely unpleasant but strange odors. you wouldn't blame anyone for the way they might want to keep a bit of a distance but for some reason this is the only time you've felt this conscious about it, recalling all the times you'd been around lia or taehyun in similar states. you decide to simply blame it on the fact that jeongin is still a relatively new friend, if you would even really consider him that. you've only ever seen each other on days you weren't going to be in the studio or before you went, this was the first time you'd interacted after you'd been working on a series of combinations for hours on end.
"so where do you live?" jeongin speaks up, drawing you from your thoughts, and you realize you've both just been standing awkwardly in front of the dance building for a few seconds while he waited for you to point him in the proper direction.
“oh, i live in odd east this year,” you supply ticking your head lightly in the general direction of the usual path you take from the dance building to your dorm.
“that’s the green one right?” your buddy asks and you’re reminded that he’s a freshman, still learning about campus considering you’re only just over a month into his first semester.
you just nod in response, a silent chuckle leaving you as you both take the first steps along the sidewalk.
jeongin manages to keep the distance he’d set between you and several times throughout your silent stroll you catch yourself with an apology on the tip of your tongue. you’ve never felt the need to apologize for the way you’ve looked, or smelled for that matter, before this moment. maybe it’s the way jeongin is so obvious with his avoidance but as you think about it, he’s not acting all too dissimilar from how he has when you’ve gotten together before. maybe it has something to do with the privacy of this interaction, most students asleep or studying in their dorms, as opposed to all the times you’ve met in more populated spaces, the chaotic skz house, a busy coffee shop, or a packed library, that is making you hyper aware of jeongin’s behavior.
as you brainstorm about his behavior, jeongin is trying his best to avoid tripping over his own feet as he thinks about how pretty you look right now. something about how you look so relaxed and natural like this, in your more casual dance clothes and messy hair, has him feeling almost the same way he had when he saw you wearing his clothes at the skz party a few weeks ago. some uneven mix of excitement and nervousness that he’d felt brewing in him at the party, but now it feels as though it may tear him apart at the seams.
every few steps he glances over at you, partly to make sure you’re okay but mostly, to see if you’ve noticed the way he’s distanced himself from you, only to observe the determined, if not slightly frustrated, expression you sport. he’s seen you wear the same look several times in class or during study sessions and so simply chalks it up to you focusing on whatever you must have been working on in the studio before he picked you up. he’s tempted to reach out to you and brush away the hair that had escaped from behind your ear as you walked but he resists, stuffing both of his hands into his pockets rather forcefully and turning back to face the direction he’s headed.
his slightly sudden and abrupt movement catches your eye briefly, snapping you out of your own thoughts before you bring your focus to the path in front of you, counting the pavements as you go to keep your thoughts occupied.
you each had felt that your recent interactions outside of class had significantly decreased the awkwardness between you two, especially after the way jeongin had acted at the party, but with every step you took toward your dorm you could both feel the tension climbing. by the time you reached the front door of your dorm building it was obvious by either of your body language that it felt like you’d regressed back to that point right before jeongin had offered you his coffee.
“uh, thanks,” you say, clearing your throat as you reach for your key card to let yourself into the building.
jeongin nods, once again staring intently at your shoes, and you sort of wonder if they need to be cleaned, before he lets out a pathetic, “of course.”
“see you in class.”
and with that you’re closing the door behind you, making the trek toward your dorm, where lia is sure to scold you for coming back so late, and jeongin is left standing in the thick tension of the night that he can only blame himself for building.
ciwyh masterlist bonus next
taglist @peterparkoure @bangchansbae @chaotickyrith @napalmskiez @john-joong
#ciwyh#can i walk you home#jeongin fanfic#jeongin x gn reader#jeongin x y/n#jeongin x reader#jeongin smau#jeongin x you#jeongin fic#frat!jeongin x reader#frat!stray kids x reader#frat!stray kids#frat!skz#frat!au#frat au#college!jeongin x reader#college!reader#college!au#college au#stray kids x reader#stray kids x you#stray kids fanfic#stray kids fic#stray kids x gender neutral reader#gender neutral reader#gn reader#stray kids x y/n#stray kids x gn reader#reader insert#smau
44 notes
·
View notes
Note
Dude frat!Tom is such a vibe. Just seeing him out on campus and having him immediately put his arm around you with such male ease/confidence bc he wants to close UGHHH
yes UGH pls i need him so bad.
i got carried away LOL oops
talk to me about frat!tom
you made your way out of the door to the lecture hall, swarming with the crowd of students as you pushed out the door. in the hallway of the marketing building, people chatted on their way out about which frat houses and sororities were hosting parties tonight and who was going to be there.
the typical friday evening routine.
you pushed the door open and almost immediately you were smacked in the face with cold air. you shivered, pulling the hoodie to the sweatshirt you were wearing over your head as you approached the tall figure ahead of you. you smiled as you got closer, noticing he was in a pair of sweatpants, a backwards snapback and his lacrosse hoodie, a cup of hot coffee in each hand as he greeted you.
"good afternoon, gorgeous," he smiled, giving you the warm cup of coffee as his other arm wrapped around you,"ready for tonight?"
"i love when you guys throw parties because, hands down, they're the best," you sighed as you let him lead you down the path that led to your dorm building,"but god i am so tired. these last 2 exams are going to kill me."
he smiled, tucking a piece of hair from your face as you reached the door, swiping your ID as it let out a beep, signaling that the door unlocked. you hurried inside in attempts to escape from the freezing wind.
"plus, it's cold outside. and i hate the cold." you whined and he chuckled as he followed you into the elevator.
"trust me, i know, you tell me every morning when i walk you to your 8am." he smiles over at you before taking a sip of the coffee, his glasses slightly fogging over from the warmth of the liquid. you roll your eyes and playfully hit his shoulder before the elevator doors open, letting you off onto your floor.
and once you were inside your dorm, you plopped onto your bed after putting the coffee down on the nightstand. tom followed your movement, climbing on top of you as your head hit the pillows. you giggled as he hovered over you, cold nose bumping into yours.
"wait, today's friday, right?" you asked and tom hummed a soft 'yes' into your neck as he moved your hair, placing a soft kiss on the warm skin. you shivered as his cold lips moved their way to the sweet spot below your ear. you tapped your phone to display the time, looking down at the big bold numbers that sat above the picture of you and tom outside the date party his frat had thrown a couple weeks ago. you were laughing, holding onto his cheeks as he smiled. the both of you so close and looking like you were about to kiss.
"megan won't be back for a couple hours, she has spanish tutoring." you smiled as he turned back to face you.
"oh really?" he asked, leaning down to get closer as his lips ghosted over yours. you scrunched your nose and nodded as you felt his hands move under your sweatshirt, cold hands meeting the warm skin of your abdomen.
"i've got a few things in mind that we can do."
"yeah? i'd love to hear 'em."
you'd giggle, his lips meeting yours.
"i'm sure you would."
#tom holland#tom holland x reader#tom holland imagine#frat!tom#frat!tom holland#frat!tom holland x reader#frat!tom x reader#frat!tom holland imagine#frat!tom imagine#frat!au#college!tom holland#college!tom holland x reader#college!tom#college!tom holland imagine#marvel#marvel imagine#spiderman#spider-man#spider man#spider-man: no way home#spider-man: far from home#spider-man: homecoming#avengers#avengers: infinity war#avengers: endgame#imagine#mcu#mcu imagine#x reader#tom holland x y/n
293 notes
·
View notes
Note
The squeal I just let out at the thought of a frat!Austin x frat!Elvis crossover...drunken threesom???
OH
MY
GOD
You did NOT just go there anon….
(LETS GO THERE RIGHT NOW BC OH MY FUCJINF GOD)
#THIS IDEA#IS#TOO#FUCKINF#GOOD#HOLY GOD YOUR MIND#ngl it’s weird but the more I think about it the more I’m FERAL for it#BUT LIKE CAN U GUYS IMAGINE#i claim dibs on this fic idea now#frat!au
16 notes
·
View notes
Text
Are You Bored Yet?
Pairing: College!Bucky x Tutor!Reader
Summary: God, you hated Bucky. Bucky probably hated you, too. Maybe. It was hard to tell when he was drunk and calling you pretty at a party you shouldn't have gone to.
Word count: 8k
Warnings: Alcohol, annoyance to lovers, a bit of angst, a scary man in a parking lot, frat!bucky c:
a/n: I am so excited to finally post something!! It only took me four months 😅 If you enjoy it please please let me know ❤️❤️
Masterlist
~~
12:59 pm.
The birchwood table nestled in the back of the library was long but otherwise empty, the only thing occupying it being your laptop and quite a few books. He wasn’t late. Yet. You weren’t going to hold onto that hope, however.
Tutoring Bucky Barnes was not what you had in mind when you volunteered for the peer assistance program at your university. It was true you were only using the club to boost your resume, but you had assumed the only people reaching out for help would be those that actually wanted it. Unfortunately, that was not the case.
Sure, Bucky wanted help. Just not with anything that actually warranted the word. He wanted help sweet talking the cops so they wouldn't shut down his parties. He wanted help recruiting girls to show up to his parties. And—the one thing you could actually do—he wanted help passing his classes with the minimum GPA required to not get kicked out of his frat. So he could continue to throw parties.
Everything in his life revolved around his fraternity, which made you very important to him. When he wanted you to be.
With your apparently astounding knowledge of biology (you took notes during lectures), you became the star in Bucky’s life every Monday and Wednesday from 1:00 pm (give or take ten minutes) to 2:00 pm. He was also very attentive during the thirty minute phone calls he initiated prior to tests, and always looked happy to see you when he passed you devouring a bagel at the crack of dawn in the dining hall.
Every situation in which you had come in contact with Bucky was isolated and purposeful (minus the bagel). You didn’t hang out or invite each other places, and you were almost positive that if you were to see him in his natural habitat, you would want to tutor him even less than you did now, and that was saying something. So you were important to Bucky during the times you were supposed to be important, and he was important to you in the sense that he was a job.
But as your laptop blinked the numbers 1:22 pm back at your unimpressed expression, Bucky became much less important today. You took in a long, tortured breath before sending your gaze up to the ceiling, giving it another three minutes before you truly gave up on him for the day.
One minute.
Two minutes.
The library really needed new ceiling tiles.
1:25 pm and you snapped your laptop shut. Your fingers itched to send yet another complaint about this whole ordeal Natasha’s way, but you stopped yourself. She had already heard plenty about Barnes at this point, plus she always gave you a weird look every time you came stomping into the apartment, grumbling about something else he had done.
You hated her weird looks, all raised eyebrows and stiff lips.
With your backpack heaved onto the table and your things slowly funneling in, you figured a nap was the best reward for sitting in the library for an unnecessary twenty-five minutes. Your last prickle of irritation was stifled at the prospect of a warm bed as you stood, only to find that irritation had returned to you tenfold. In the form of Bucky Barnes.
“You going somewhere?” he seemed to taunt, his bag slung casually over one shoulder.
Your jaw ticked. “Home.”
His mouth turned up at one side, an expression you had learned meant he found you amusing. He never seemed to outright laugh at your annoyance, but apparently, it was hard to tamp down all of the joy he got out of it. Bucky took two long strides to meet the table you were attempting to abandon.
“But I still got about—” he checked his watch “—thirty-three minutes? And an arsenal of questions about amino acids. Help a guy out.”
“And I still got—” you checked the nonexistent watch on your wrist “—no patience for this today. You’re over twenty minutes late, Barnes. Use that watch to set an alarm on Wednesday and I’ll tell you everything you’ll inevitably forget about amino acids then.”
He groaned, rounding the table to set firm hands on your shoulders as he hovered behind you. “Sit. I’ll buy you a coffee and I promise I won’t be late on Wednesday, okay? I was dealing with something before this and lost track of time.”
“Were you dealing with another sorority girl in your bed? Who was it last week? Amber? No, Michelle?”
“It’s a Monday, y/n. Cut me some slack.”
“You came to me on a Wednesday with a hangover,” you deadpanned.
Bucky grimaced, the expression visible to you as he managed to guide you back into your chair. “Oat milk, right? A double?”
You grumbled, crossing your arms over your chest as he tossed his bag by your feet and jogged over to the coffee cart just outside the library. He fumbled with his wallet when he went to pay, and you watched him point to the carton of oat milk the barista had yet to reach for. His greek letters were printed on the gray hoodie he had haphazardly thrown over his shoulders, and you held the reprimand on your tongue when you saw the matching sweatpants he donned.
The last time he had shown up in his pajamas—late—you’d had some choice words for him. Bucky turned around with your coffee then, poking the straw through the lid and sending you a sheepish smile through the window.
He was lucky you accepted bribes.
~~
“Please,” the boy across from you continued to beg, a pen held loosely between pliant fingers. “Just ask her, that’s all I want. You can even come too.”
“Oh, wow, the great frat president letting me come to his stupid toga party? How could I ever thank you enough?”
It was Wednesday now, and Bucky was surprisingly on time to the tutoring session. You’d gotten through about half of the last bio lecture before he started asking you ridiculous questions that had nothing to do with the content. Today, he was dead set on getting your lab partner from chemistry to go to his party this weekend.
“Okay, yeah, you could come to whatever party you want, you know? I put you on the list—but this one will be even better if you’d just do this one thing for me.”
You finally tore your eyes from your laptop, glancing lazily at him. “And what would make this one so—wait, what list?”
He waved you off. “The one at the door. Did it like… the second week we started this? Anyways, Wanda?”
You let this new information settle and tried to ignore whatever implications came with being on some frat list thanks to Bucky. He had never explicitly invited you to any of his parties over the past few months and you had never asked to come. Apparently, you could have shown up whenever you wanted to and had a grand old time.
Not that that sounded the least bit grand.
Bucky was looking at you still, all pleading features and a soft, infuriating smile on his lips. When he wasn’t talking to random girls in the library or taking annoying phone calls in the middle of your sessions, he was sort of endearing. In a terrible, awful sense.
You groaned, throwing yourself back against your chair in begrudging defeat. “I don’t even talk to her outside of chem. Don’t you think it’d be a little weird to invite her to a party that I’m not even going to?”
“So come,” he answered simply, as if that was in the realm of possibilities.
“Yeah,” you scoffed. “Sure, I’ll come to your party, Barnes.”
“Great,” he grinned. “Vision’s gonna be so hyped.”
You watched as he pulled his phone from his pocket and kept your lie to yourself. He wouldn’t notice that you didn’t show up on Friday, and likely wouldn’t even bring it up the following Monday. He always had such vibrant, headache-inducing stories that you were sure your absence would be nothing more than a fleeting footnote.
“You have a toga, right?” he mumbled, face still screwed up in concentration as he continued his text.
“Isn’t it just a sheet all twisted up?” you asked, shutting your computer. Tutoring was obviously over.
Bucky pocketed his phone again, brows raised in amusement. “Depends on your motives for the night.”
“And my motives wouldn’t be to… wear a toga?”
He chuckled and huffed out your name, resting an arm along the back of the chair to his right—your chair. “Other motives. Like if you’re trying to get someone’s attention.”
You blinked at the warmth along your back. “Oh, of course. Then I would twist up a pillowcase instead, right?”
“Something like that.”
He smelled like coconut. Like a day at the beach but afterwards, when the sunscreen still lingered in the air but fresh clothes covered skin that had been warmed by the sun. You could usually ignore whatever expensive combination he had on his skin, but when he got close like this it was almost impossible.
Part of you always wanted to chuck his arm away when he leaned over you, but another part of you liked that he kept it there. It was a strange part of you, the same one that relished the looks you got from sorority girls in the library and harbored a sense of pride each time he made a blatant attempt to touch you.
You had spent fleeting moments analyzing these emotions and chalked them up to some internalized desire for validation. Nothing else. Bucky was a hot guy and everyone knew that, so having his attention—in any capacity—felt nice. Sometimes. Meaning right now it was nice that he was looking at you with his arm practically glued to your back, but next week when he showed up late with a hangover and tried to steal the jacket off your body it would be not so nice.
The duality of man.
It helped your partial insanity that Bucky would never actually be interested in you. You weren’t in a sorority or interested to his parent’s money, and, worst of all, you didn’t know how to maneuver a sheet into a toga. When he put his arm around you or moved your hair from your eyes as you leaned over a book, it was probably out of habit. It felt nice, but you knew reality. This was a passing phase, and by the summer you wouldn’t even speak to him anymore.
“I’ll text you more info about everything,” Bucky called, pulling you from your thoughts. “You can come early and I’ll help you with that pillowcase.”
You froze, the book you were shoving into your bag pausing in your hands. “Uh, maybe.”
“No, seriously, it’d be better if you came early. I was kidding about the pillowcase but if you come on time it’ll be too crazy for me to show you around.”
“You don’t have to show me around, Bucky. I’ve been to a house party before.”
“Y/n, are you not coming to this thing?” Bucky accused, swiping the book from your hands and softly tossing it on the table. It still made a loud thud that had a few bitter looks thrown your way.
“Dude!” you whispered, meeting each mean gaze with your apologetic one. “Why does it matter if I come? You just wanted Wanda anyway.”
He knocked your hand away when you went to reach for the book again, encircling your wrist with his fingers. “You just lied to me. Straight to my face. You said you’d come and now you gotta.”
You gave his fingers an experimental tug, but he was unrelenting in his soft grip. You glared at him through your lashes, meeting his uncharacteristically stern gaze that contrasted the humor on his lips.
“You ever hear of sarcasm?” you whispered with a half-hearted bite.
“Unfortunately, that’s about all I hear outta you,” he smirked back.
You rolled your eyes, finally yanking hard enough to free yourself from him. “Then you should have known I wasn’t going to come. No matter what ‘list’ you put me on.”
“What else could you possibly have going on on a Friday night?”
Ouch. You felt your brows furrow even though you didn’t will them to, and even worse, you felt a rash defensiveness lodge itself in your throat. You hated the heat that now prickled along the skin of your neck, and you hated even more how it extinguished all of the good warmth you had felt from him earlier.
This was humiliation, surely—the kind that only came from feeling small.
“You don’t have to be a dick,” you seethed, snapping up the remainder of your belongings. “Just because I don’t want to go to your stupid frat doesn't mean I have nothing to do. I don’t spend all of my time hoping to get invited to ridiculous parties.”
Bucky shifted up in his seat, eyes blown just a fraction wider. “Whoa, I didn’t mean—hey, stop a sec, I didn’t mean it like that.”
“Whatever, Bucky,” you droned, as a new temperature seeped into the skin of your palms and made them clammy. Any semblance of delusion you’d fallen into earlier was long gone now, but you knew to expect that. He wasn’t interested in you and you weren’t interested in him. But embarrassment wasn’t a good feeling, regardless of a multitude of reality checks.
Bucky got up when you did, his clothes looking creased and lived in. “We still have time in our session,” he defended, arm jutting out to the table. “C’mon, I didn’t mean you don’t have friends.”
Your glare sharpened. “Great, another insinuation.”
Bucky sputtered out incoherent words as you continued your trek outside, resorting to grabbing your wrist again, this time with more urgency. You felt the heat in you simmer down to a dull throb as he made contact, mostly out of respect for your future self. If you made this a huge deal it would only embarrass you more.
“Look, it doesn’t even matter, okay?” you huffed, but he just tugged you forward. It was then that you realized you were in the doorway of the library, effectively blocking it off from anyone trying to leave. Bucky pulled you close enough to his chest that you weren’t in the way anymore. His cologne was back with a vengeance, your nose just inches from his collar.
You took a steadying breath, blinking away the remnants of shame. “It doesn’t matter, I overreacted.”
He clicked his tongue. “I’m still apologizing. I didn’t mean any of that stuff you were talking about.”
Of course he did. You were sure he thought it all the time. He just didn’t mean to say it out loud.
“It’s fine,” you rushed. “I have to go, anyway. Office hours.”
“Okay,” he nodded, soft and low, like he just remembered he was in a library. “You’ll still come this weekend, right? Even if Wanda can’t?”
“You have some kind of girl quota you need to meet?” you pressed.
Bucky smiled, still so close to you that you could feel the small breath that accompanied the expression. “And she’s back.”
You left without promising anything, and Bucky left feeling like you had.
~~
Sometime between Wednesday and Friday, your detestment for frat parties had snowballed into determination. You were going to go and you were going to look like you were having so much fun it was ridiculous. Then, on Monday, when Bucky would usually poke and prod about what you’d gotten up to over the past few days, you were going to pretend that it was nothing for you. That you did that every weekend.
Of course, you didn’t. Your weekends typically consisted of calm nights with friends or dinners near campus. You’d been to a party before, sure, but you didn’t exactly frequent those kinds of scenes.
Bucky had continued to make it clear that you were invited. He had texted you a few times, prompting you to come and thanking you for getting Wanda to agree. The messages looked strange under the plethora of biology related questions, but that just spurred you further into action. You weren’t just a tutor with no social life, and Bucky was going to see that tonight. You couldn’t remember doing something out of pure spite before, but you figured having fun to prove a point wasn’t the worst thing.
Wanda pulled you out of your thoughts as the Uber rounded the last dark corner and revealed an overcrowded house with too many lights on. She rambled on about some guy she couldn’t wait to see and confirmed that she would likely be spending the night. You expected as much; it hadn’t taken much convincing to get her to come. If this night resulted in anything good it was apparently the blossoming relationship between your new friend and a man you’d never met.
Wanda continued to chat as she yanked you out of the car and past the yard littered with sparse grass. The music was loud already—the type of loud that you needed to be at least a little drunk to enjoy. And that was the plan.
“Okay, if I start dancing on a table you pull me down. And if you start dancing on a table I support you, right?” Wanda giggled, her voice now raised as you walked past the threshold of the house.
“Exactly,” you yelled back. A guy nodded to you as he leaned against the front door, his eyes glancing up from his phone and then returning. It seemed Bucky’s ‘list’ was a page on some guy’s notes app. How luxurious. “Let’s drink.”
The next hour was a blur. You tried your hardest to get as drunk as possible and Wanda tried her hardest to find the British man she was enamored with. You hadn’t seen Bucky, but you figured he wasn’t looking for you too hard since you hadn’t responded to any of his texts. Not out of anger, but because you didn’t know what to say. Somehow, with alcohol warming your blood and music vibrating your skin, none of that mattered anymore.
You: Your house is soooo dirty
Your phone jostled in your grip, people bumping into you from every side. When he didn’t answer in the thirty seconds you spent staring at the screen, you locked it and continued on with your mission.
After a few too many shots of hard liquor, you switched to beer. Gross, but decidedly less likely to make you pass out on the staircase of this house. Because you weren’t lying in your text—it was slightly disgusting. You figured you should clarify that with Bucky. You reached for your phone once again, knocking your head against the wall in the process and giggling to yourself. You had no idea where Wanda went.
The device was snatched from your hands just as quickly as the screen had lit up your face.
“You ever answer this thing?” an accusing voice called out. “Or do you just insult people and put it on do not disturb?”
The look on Bucky’s face would have made you roll your eyes in any other circumstance. Right now, however, it had a startled laugh bursting past your lips. You clutched at your stomach as the laugh grew and you found yourself tipping forward until your forehead met his chest. You felt delirious, almost silly. A hand came around to rest on the back of your neck.
“Alright, alright.” Bucky’s words rumbled against your face. “I get it, this is hilarious.”
“Your… your face,” you breathed out, catching your breath enough to part from him. “It was all—” you mimicked the straight line of his eyebrows, voice raising in a mocking tone. “—You don’t ever answer your phone. You’re so boring, y/n, answer your phone.”
“I didn’t call you boring. Hey—hey,” Bucky stressed, reaching for you as you leaned too far to the side, a smile still lingering on your face. “Jesus, y/n, how much did you have to drink?”
You went to mock him again, but his fingers on your jaw stopped you. He tilted your head up and to the left, and although he was much more composed than you were, you could still smell the alcohol on his breath. You scrunched up your nose as he continued his inspection.
“Why’re you being so uptight?” you slurred, trying and failing to push away from him. “I thought you were all like, ‘I’m Bucky and I party and get drunk and have sex with girls.’”
Bucky pulled you forward as you laughed at your impression of him, his shaking head making you blink away a bout of dizziness. You toppled over a set of stairs as he threaded his fingers through yours, and then you stumbled through a doorway and onto carpeted floors. Being pressed into an uncomfortable chair was the most jarring action, the world still spinning as you sat.
“You’re even more mean when you're drunk,” you heard Bucky mumble. You couldn’t quite catch him as he moved around whatever room you were in. “And I don’t talk like that.”
You let out a careless sigh and leaned back. “You soooo talk like that.”
Something cold pressed to your hand, followed by another touch to the back of your neck. You gazed down at the water bottle being guided up to your lips and couldn’t find it in you to fight against it, despite the small spark of defiance on the tip of your tongue. After about four large swallows, Bucky was satisfied.
He asked again how much you’d had to drink.
You answered that you didn’t know—that it didn’t matter because he wasn’t your dad and you were having fun like you always did. He bit the inside of his cheek and didn’t say anything for the next few moments.
And then, “Thought you weren’t gonna come tonight.”
You hummed, rolling your head against the chair to look up at his standing form. “Of course I was going to come. I love parties. Love drinking alcohol.”
His expression twisted into something you couldn’t recognize. “God, you’re so drunk.”
“M’not even that drunk!”
“You’re willingly in my room right now. You’re plastered.”
“Maybe I want to be in your room.”
“We both know that’s not true.”
You chuckled breathily, closing your eyes so you wouldn’t have to see the pretty flush of Bucky’s face. “You think you know everything, don’t you? Don’t know much about me though. Or biology.”
Bucky kneeled down to the height of the chair. “And what do I not know about you?”
“So much.”
“How much?”
You bit into your lip and cracked an eye open, catching the amusement that had slipped past the strange mask of his emotions. With blissful ignorance, you heaved yourself forward on the chair, your nose a few inches from Bucky’s. His eyes didn’t waver from yours as you swayed.
“You don’t know that I’m the most interesting person on Earth,” you boasted, fingers gripping the upholstery of your seat.
“That right?” Bucky probed, his voice a melodic hum.
“Yup, I’m always really busy and even though you think I’m some boring biology tutor I’m actually super cool and, like, go to raves and stuff.”
His brow twitched but his mouth stayed soft. “I’ve never said you were boring. And I don’t think you’ve ever been to a rave.”
You groaned loudly and flopped against the backrest of the chair. “See! I’m telling you I do all this cool stuff and I’m so drunk my fingers are buzzing and you still don’t believe me.”
You crossed your arms with a huff, a small pout forming on your lips. In any other context, this behavior would probably embarrass you to no end. In the dim light of Bucky’s room where you felt the feeling leave your fingers and the care leave your mind, you were just disgruntled, not embarrassed. If you remembered this tomorrow the latter would surely catch up to you.
Bucky stared at you from his spot on the ground, his gaze a bit foggy and unfocused. He was clearly intoxicated, as you deduced earlier, and it made him look more wild. Mused hair and pink cheeks, he looked like he’d been having plenty of fun before he found you. It was distracting. He was distracting you from proving that you were having a blast.
“What?” you snapped, the tone a testament to the drunken fit you were throwing.
“You’re so fucking pretty.”
He must be really, really drunk. Despite your clouded mind, you knew that, but the words affected you just the same. Your lips parted as a new lightness both lit up and compressed your chest, and Bucky watched the movement.
“Yeah,” you scoffed, but it was hardly a scoff. “Sure, Bucky. How much did you have to drink—”
“I’m not lying. I’ve thought about you in my room for weeks and now you’re here and you’re so pretty. Even when you’re yelling at me.”
“You’ve… thought about me in your room?”
Bucky shuffled forward and you subconsciously parted your legs to allow the space for him. “I think about you everywhere.”
This was crazy. It was certifiably insane. A voice in the back of your head—Natasha’s voice, it sounded like—was screaming at you to stop and think about the situation at hand. He was drunk, you were even more drunk, and he was far too close to you. He had ushered you in here with good intentions and had sobered you up a fraction, but things had taken a turn and this was a sensitive situation. The kind of sensitive that altered your reality and his and probably a bunch of other people’s you’d never met.
Or it could be nothing and you were over exaggerating.
But then Bucky’s hand was warming your thigh. You’d felt the press of it on your back and your shoulder and your head before, but it had never been on your thigh. It felt heavy there, hot. His other hand moved to touch your face and he propped himself up on one knee. His thumb brushed your cheek. Words tumbled from your mouth before you registered that you were speaking.
“Are you going to kiss me?”
Why would you ask that? Who asks Bucky Barnes if he’s going to kiss them?
“Would you let me?” he responds.
“Yes.”
He didn’t waste any time, his mouth hot against yours. He tasted like mint and vodka and his lips moved so slowly it ached. You had expected a fervor behind his lips, but instead you got a build up, an orchestra reaching its crescendo. He was kissing you like you were important, like this wasn’t some random hookup in his bedroom at 1 o’clock in the morning, and you had to catch your breath when he parted from you.
But he moved back in so quickly after your brief respite, and you were eager to give him more. This was crazy, insane. This was the best kiss you’d ever have and also the worst. This was months of staring at his stupid lips when he tried explaining concepts back to you, but this was also weeks of feeling small in his presence. Bucky slid his hand back to press against your hair and you didn’t feel small anymore.
A loud thud from the hallway interrupted the silence you’d created, and Bucky pulled back, keeping his hands on you as he craned his neck around to stare at the door. He waited a beat, and then two, and then he turned back to you. The moment was gone, but he was still touching you. You weren’t sure what you wanted—if you wanted him to kiss you again or run out the door—but when he slid his hands from your body and rubbed them down his jeans, it became clear that was not what you wanted.
A knot formed in your stomach when he met your gaze again, and you tried blinking the feeling away. It didn’t work.
“Um,” Bucky began, his voice sounding more clear, his tone not holding the weight it had.
Your plan had backfired. Severely. This was a mess and you needed to save yourself before you ended this night even more humiliated.
You were still drunk. Pretend you were still plastered.
You giggled airily, the sound burning your throat. “That was loud.”
Bucky blinked at you in what you assumed was disbelief. “Probably just someone trying to find the bathroom,” he clarified.
You shrugged, nudging him back with your knee as you stood from the chair. “I’m bored now.” You took fast steps to the door, your words foreign to you. “Thanks for the water,” you all but gritted out.
You expected him to get up. Not to run after you or proclaim his love or even say anything. But you expected him to get up.
He didn’t, and you couldn’t understand how the knot in your stomach had moved to your throat. Or how it made tears spring to your eyes when your feet hit the sidewalk outside. Your Uber came and you couldn’t understand how you felt hot and cold at the same time. How it was freezing outside but you were sweating.
You couldn’t understand why you were crying over a boy that so often infuriated you, or why he kissed you in his bedroom. The reasonable side of you sent gentle reminders that he was in a frat and kissing people is just what he did. All the time. But the unreasonable side of you won out tonight, and it was telling you that this felt different.
That you should be different, somehow.
~~
Bucky: You’re here???
Bucky: Where are you?
Bucky: Y/n answer your damn phone
Bucky: This place is fucking packed tonight I thought you weren’t coming
You stared at the text messages you hadn’t read last night, the bright light of your phone burning into your retinas. You had a brutal hangover, and the memory of the disaster in Bucky’s room felt like an even bigger one.
You’d gone through a myriad of emotions the night before, tossing around excuses and speeches in your head until you were so exhausted you let the alcohol in your system lull you to sleep. With all of that delirious thinking, you’d landed on blacking out. You were going to tell Bucky you blacked out last night and couldn’t remember a thing. He obviously wouldn’t care and would probably appreciate it.
Saturday was slow-moving. Reruns of television shows and bags of popcorn and overthinking. Natasha was at her parent’s house in the city, so you had no one to bounce your racing thoughts off of. You certainly weren’t going to text her about it.
When the evening finally rolled around and your attempts at distracting yourself with mind-numbing movies failed, you checked your email. You always tried not to on the weekends, but doing anything else sounded much less appealing.
Unfortunately, you didn’t get past the first one.
From: University Peer Assistance Program
Dear Y/n Y/l/n,
This is an automated message from the campus peer assistance program. We thank you for your continued devotion to the betterment of students at this school. At this time, your tutoring placement with James Barnes has ended. We will search for a new placement to fill your current hours.
Thank you,
University Peer Assistance
You blinked at the email, then blinked again. The breath left your chest and the muscles on your face twitched, but you were otherwise frozen.
This was what you wanted, wasn’t it? To be free from the haughty frat boy that didn’t even listen to you when you tried to help him raise his grades. You wanted someone nice, someone that had the same goals as you and appreciated the color-coded notes you took for them. Bucky only tried to get a rise out of you. He sat too close and made fun of you and put you on lists you didn’t ask to be on.
But he had kissed you. He had kissed you and then tutor-dumped you.
You knew you weren’t his type, but were you really that bad? Was the kiss so terrible?
Every inferiority complex you had developed exploded. You over-analyzed things that had already happened, things you had said. Not just at the party, but in the library, the coffee shops, the lecture halls.
Was he really willing to risk his position in the frat just to avoid you?
The strangle tickle of tears itched to be released from your eyes again, but you pressed it down. No, this wasn’t on you. He had kissed you. He had dragged you into his room and stumbled on pretty words. If he didn’t want you to tutor him anymore because of his stupid mistake, fine.
His mistake.
That word felt wrong.
You tossed your phone on the couch with vigor. The clock above the television read out 10 pm, but that meant little to you as you slid on your shoes at the front door. You were wearing sweatpants and a jacket that was far too big on you, sadness and frustration and raw confusion propelling you down your apartment stairs.
Ice cream would fix this.
The only place open at this time was the gas station at the edge of campus. It wasn’t university affiliated and was usually overrun with belligerent greek life trying to buy alcohol, but the decision-making part of your brain was currently shut off.
Ice cream, anger, probably watching tiktoks until your eyes were too heavy to keep open—those were the only things rattling in your head.
You yanked open the gas station door after your short walk, the glass smudged and fogged from the cold night. The fluorescent lights aggravated the headache you’d been sporting all day and the floor made sticking noises with each step you took. To add insult to injury, there were only three cartons of ice cream left, and they weren’t even the good flavors. Grabbing the least offensive one, you made your way to the small line of people by the register.
“Nice outfit.”
Too enthralled by the disappointing ingredient list on the side of your ice cream, you had missed the tall man now looming at your shoulder. You whipped your head around with a start, taking a step back, smelling menthol and asphalt and nothing good.
“Thanks,” you quietly replied.
He waited until you turned back around to continue. “You go to school over here?”
You kept your gaze forward. “Um, yeah.”
“Nice. I graduated a few years back. Marketing.”
“Cool,” you replied. What had compelled you to leave your phone on the couch? This night sucked.
You found reprieve in the line moving, the employee calling you over to check out. As soon as you paid—a few dollar bills funneled out of your pocket with shaky hands—you booked it. Your ice cream burned in your palm but you didn’t care, feet carrying you out the door and into the dimly lit parking lot. You fisted your keys in your fingers; pointless, you knew, but a small comfort.
The man’s voice returned with the chime of the bell over the gas station door. “Wait! Wait, I’m Beck. I own a business nearby.”
You should have kept walking, but one of your fatal flaws was, apparently, people pleasing. You turned to him. He smiled at you but it made your stomach twist.
“Oh, nice,” you responded, rocking back on your heels.
“We should connect. Maybe go for coffee or something?” He took a step forward. You fought the urge to take one back. His beard was unkempt and he held a six pack in his white-knuckled grip.
“Um, I don’t know. I’m pretty busy with finals coming up. Plus, I’m not really in the business field.”
“Not for business then,” he smiled again, teeth dull in the streetlight.
Just agree. If you agreed you could block him soon after and everything would be fine.
You took too long to answer. He took the final step forward to arrive in your space and wrapped his fingers around your bicep. “C’mon, I’m not asking you to marry me or anything.”
Frozen by fear, you let out a weak laugh. The pint in your hand was sticking to your skin now in a way that would be painful when you tried to let go of it later. Your breath rattled in your chest when you laughed again.
“Sure, okay.” But he didn’t let go of your arm, instead sliding it down to the bone of your wrist.
“What about now?” he posed. “You don’t look too busy. I can make you something at my place.”
He was at least ten years older than you. You attempted to pull yourself from his grasp to no avail. Maybe reasoning would work.
“My roommate's waiting for me,” you lied. “Could you let go? I sprained my wrist at the gym last week,” you lied again.
He refused with a shake of his head. You took a panicked glance inside the gas station to your right. No one was looking.
“Please let go of me.”
The call of your name from the other side of the parking lot initially sent more unbearable fear down your spine. But then the owner of that voice registered in your brain, and although it had been the cause of your recent internal strife, you couldn't be more grateful to hear it.
He said your name again, closer now and questioning. Bucky jogged up to the pair of you, saw your wrist and the man holding it hostage, and looked back up at you with confused, wild eyes.
“You know this guy?” he asked, jutting his thumb out at Beck.
“No,” you whispered. The word was short but the syllable still trembled.
Bucky didn’t look confused anymore. He looked pissed. “Wanna take your fucking hands off her?”
Beck was tall, but Bucky was taller. And angry. Beck released your wrist and raised his hands in a placating gesture. “Whoa, man, no need for the theatrics. I’m guessing you’re here to stock up for a party? I used to be in Sigma Nu.”
When Bucky’s silent glare failed to dampen, Beck continued with, “We were just planning a night at my place, right?”
His nod in your direction made your breath catch. Bucky took his piercing gaze off of Beck and softened it as it fell on you. You wanted to respond, but words were gone. They were impossible. Your ice cream was melting.
“Yeah, I think we’re done here,” Bucky scoffed, placing his arm around your shoulder. He guided you past the wall of a man, making sure to drive his shoulder into his chest as he went. Beck went to say more, to protest or whine, but Bucky shot him such a scathing look it almost made you wither.
The smell of coconut and spices and a hint of whisky met your nose, and it was familiar. It was safe. You fumbled with the keys in your hands as your feet guided you wherever Bucky was going, and then you fumbled even more, soft jingling disrupting the softness of footfall. God, why wouldn’t you stop shaking?
A hand fell atop yours, crunching the keys to a halt. You stared down at them, unsteady breath hitting the tanned fingers that served as your current anchor.
“Look at me, y/n.”
You couldn’t. You couldn’t do anything.
“Sweetheart, eyes up. All you gotta do.” Bucky’s voice was as soft as it was last night. That was the only reason you were able to follow his request. “There she is,” he hummed.
He removed his arm from your shoulders and shifted in front of you, placing his hand on your cheek. You ignored that it felt the same as it had last night. You ignored that you wanted it to feel the same for him, too.
“You okay?” he asked, tilting his neck down to better see your face. His thumb brushed under your eye. “He hurt you?”
You shook your head, whispering no, whispering that you were fine.
Bucky nodded to himself, eyes tracking down to your toes and then back up again. He must have mistaken your shaking for coldness because the next thing he did was guide you into the car behind him. You didn’t know it was his.
He blasted the heat the second he got in. He had shuffled you into your seat with his hands before that, smoothed your hair down and closed the door after you were settled and not shaking as hard. The heat dried out your eyes. It distracted you enough to let words form.
“Thank you,” you said. “He wouldn’t leave me alone. I didn’t bring my phone with me. I should’ve.”
“Of course.”
There was a beat of silence. The relief you had felt earlier had been muddled down to an awkward pit in your stomach, and you weren’t sure if Bucky felt it too or if he was still riding a testosterone-fueled adrenaline high.
You wanted to go home now; this was uncomfortable and you had felt Bucky’s lips on yours less than twenty-four hours ago with no closure. He obviously didn’t want to be around you. This was probably a responsibility thing for him.
“I can… I can walk home now. The guy left. I’m just a quarter mile away and you probably have to stock up or whatever.”
He looked at you with a pinched expression. “I’m not letting you walk home after that. You kiddin’ me?”
“I’ll be fine, really. I walk over here all the time.”
“You get harassed all the time too?”
“No…”
“Exactly. So you’re not walking home.”
“Bucky—”
“Look I’m not gonna kiss you again, alright? So you don’t have to turn down a ride because of that.”
Your ice cream was soup at this point. You let it roll into your lap as you clamped your mouth shut just to open it again. Bucky ran a rough hand through his hair before dropping it on the steering wheel, clutching at it with no place to go.
“I’m not following,” you finally relented.
A loud sigh released from his nose. “You don’t have to worry about me kissing you again. I just want to make sure you get home safe and then I’ll leave you alone.”
“Worry about—you’re the one trying to avoid me,” you snapped, frozen fingers pointing to your chest. “You tutor-dumped me.”
“Tutor-dumped? How do you…” he trailed off.
“I get an email when you make a change request, Bucky.”
He stared at you for a moment, lips parted and unmoving. He clenched his jaw a moment later, a red tint adorning his cheeks.
“Well, you—you—look, I know you don’t like me, y/n. You’ve made that clear,” he stuttered, words getting louder as he moved his hands around with each one. “But I like you. I like when you get mad at me and when you yell at me for not listening and when you get all embarrassed when I play with your hair. And I’ve been trying to get you to come to one of my parties since we started this whole thing, but every time I talk about them you seem to like me even less.
“If I had known insulting you would get your attention, I woulda done that week one,” he exasperated. You sat up in your seat but he continued. “I didn’t mean any of that shit you thought I did. You’re not boring. And I didn’t mean to kiss you, but you looked—well, I already told you.”
“So you don’t want me to be your tutor anymore because you like me?” You spoke slowly, each word careful.
“No,” he sighed, frustrated. “I can’t be around you because I kissed you and you didn’t care. Because I’ll want to kiss you all the time and you didn’t even wanna kiss me once. I know we were drunk, I get that, but I’ve wanted that for a long time and I need to move on. It’s nothing against your… tutoring skills. If that’s what you’re worried about”
“But you talk about hooking up with other girls all the time, Bucky. To me.”
“You ever hear of lying?”
“Why would you—”
“You really gonna make me live out all of my failures with you?”
You’d read so many things wrong. Taken so many things the wrong way. You figured the email earlier was the final nail in the coffin, but this was something else entirely. This was Bucky, sitting next to you in his car looking distressed and frazzled with his hair six different directions, telling you that he’s been trying to get your attention since he met you. That you weren’t small or insignificant or boring.
It was probably a terrible idea to follow through with your next thought. You’d probably get hurt in the long run. But you did it anyway.
“I wanted you to kiss me.” Bucky’s head whipped towards you. You bit the inside of your cheek and said, “I want you to kiss me all the time.”
He whispered your name. It sounded like the air had left every corner of his body. But he didn’t move, and you needed to rectify that.
“You’re infuriating,” you began. Bucky cringed, but you needed to explain as he had. “You’re like the antithesis of everything I want out of college. You don’t care about classes. You’re always late. You talk too loud in the library.”
You took a deep breath, fiddling with the loose thread of your pants. You couldn’t make eye contact with anything but the ground.
“But then you know my coffee order when I’ve never told it to you. You save me from losers in parking lots and make sure I’m not drunk out of my mind at your obscene party. You make me feel… you make me feel stupid sometimes. And I thought it was because you’re everything I’m not, but I really think it’s because you’re everything I told myself I should stay away from. But I don’t want to.
“I wanted you to kiss me at that party and I want you to kiss me now.”
“Then get over here. I’m not kissing you over some bullshit center console.”
You twisted to follow his directions, gasping as his hands clasped around your waist to tug you into his lap. It wasn’t seamless—there was laughing and your head briefly connected with the roof of the car—but Bucky’s touch was everywhere, soothing the uncertainty and fear and slight headache.
His forehead connected with yours when you felt secure in his arms. His fingers slid down from your waist over the material of your sweatpants and when he spoke next you felt the words on your own lips.
“You’re wearing sweatpants. You get so mad when I wear sweatpants.”
You laughed. “I get mad because it usually means you just rolled out of bed, and you’re usually. late.”
“I got a secret,” he whispered, nudging his nose against yours. “I’m never late. And I only wear those sweatpants around you. You get cute when you’re pissed at me.”
“Well, I’m about to be really cute—”
He kissed you. You’d have plenty of time to argue later.
#bucky barnes x reader#bucky x reader#bucky barnes x female reader#bucky barnes x you#bucky barnes fanfiction#college!bucky#bucky barnes reader insert#bucky barnes#college AU#frat!bucky#marvel imagine
5K notes
·
View notes
Text
he would take the massachusetts institute of technology by storm
#he’d terrorize the frat#first time i drew steph!! she’s so cool#also i didnt mean to make tim look tall or anything 😭 theyre the same height 💔 its the perspective 💔#my art#batfam#batfamily#batman#batman comics#batfam fanart#batfamily fanart#tim drake#tim drake fanart#red robin fanart#red robin#stephanie brown#stephanie brown fanart#spoiler fanart#timsteph#?? ig uess#undercover au
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
Bad Idea, Right?
Obviously inspired by Miss Olivia Rodrigo’s song, here is a one shot I loved writing :) a bit of angst, a bit of a fluff, a lot of smut, a little bit of everything!
Check out our Patreon for early access and 160+ exclusive writings!
WC- 6.2k
Warnings- toxic relationship, kinda asshole h, angst, crying, slight degradation, spitting, impact play (light), sex tape filming, daddy kink (light), use of Mama 🤭
—-
Y/N knew this was a very bad idea. She knew she was going to regret this in the morning, as she usually did when Harry texted her to show up somewhere, but here she was.
Her best black dress in the most soft fabric, the one he had complimented her on endlessly before peeling it off when they had still been together, was glued to her body, Hair curled and falling down her shoulders. If she was going to show up at a houseparty that her ex boyfriend was throwing, she may as well go all out and wear something that she knew he liked.
Internally, she tried to talk herself out of it as she approached the open door, ignoring the people making out on his lawn. The thump of the bass was audible outside, a deep sigh being let out as she tossed her phone in her clutch after texting him a simple ‘here.’ The shot she had taken before had done next to nothing to calm her nerves, her red lipstick meticulously touched up in the back of the uber as she squirmed in the seat surely getting fucked up as she bit down on her bottom lip, venturing into the home that used to be so familiar to her.
It had been 5 months since they’d broken up, but it had barely seemed like it. Harry had a way of getting into her head and driving her absolutely fucking mad. Their back and forth seemed neverending, their text threads updating every few days. A fight, a makeup, a request to see one another. As much as she wanted to claim it was all him, she knew she was equally as bad. It wasn’t like she hadn’t tried to find someone else- but no one else could get her off like him.
Harry knew her body better than anyone else, every curve and mark, where to touch and stroke. Where to stroke, where to lick, where to bite. He was an expert on how to get her off in just minutes, her cunt completely dedicated to him as much as she wished it wasn’t. Her brain and pussy had no communication in the information regarding the fact they were broken up, much to her dismay. The only thing saving her ego was that she knew that she had the same effect on Harry. There was no way she didn’t. Harry could very well fuck anyone he wanted to, more than capable to pull. Y/N had been overly jealous as a girlfriend and she knew that, but people were drawn to her boyfriend despite the fact it was well known he was taken. While he didn’t seem to take them up on it- he ate up the attention and preened over it, much to her irritation. It caused fights upon fights, her going out of her way to make him jealous- which worked. They both seemed to get off on pissing each other off.
Breaking up was supposed to stop the cycle, but it seemed to only string it out further.
There had been so many times she deleted his number but when he pulled up on her notifications again, she recognized the number and his attitude and couldn’t resist temptation. No one had ever made Y/N feel so many emotions in her life. Being around Harry was like a live wire, electric and hot, dangerous and potentially harmful, but the benefits sometimes outweighed the risks.
Her nose crinkled as she felt the floor stick under her shoe, knowing he would be pissed about that tomorrow. Whatever spiked punch was all over the floor and that would take some elbow grease to get out. Navigating through the entryway, she made her way into the living room. It was dark, flimsy lighting had been put up to make colorful strobes go around the room, the room far too filled for comfort. It was stupidly warm, regret crawling up her neck as she looked around to find anyone familiar.
“There she is!” The voice was unmistakable. Niall, arms tugging her in for a hug and pulling her into the kitchen where it was a bit quieter, the main group she was familiar with strung about along with a few strangers. “Harry’s girl is here, everyone! Y/N herself.” He chirped, making her give him a confused look until she followed his gaze to see Harry standing stiffly, a girl too close for comfort. Her eyes narrowed, taking in how the girl angled her body, hand resting on Harry’s arm, looking at her with a scowl.
It was an ugly feeling to see someone else around her man. Well- he wasn’t her man, but it was another miscommunication between her heart and brain. She hated seeing him around someone else, the mere idea of him being with someone that wasn’t her made her stomach turn. It wasn’t right. Yes, she knew it was a toxic cycle but it was one she didn’t know how to break. She knew this was bad, but she didn’t want anyone else having him the way she did.
The only saving grace was the fact that Harry looked uncomfortable, immediately peeling himself away from the other girl and coming straight over to Y/N.. Her face must have shown her irritation, mouth opening and arm resting on her hip as she went to give him a bit of hell but was cut off by his mouth.
And Y/N’s body, she was a fucking traitor. Feeling his arms wrap around her and push her against the counter, his tongue pressing into her mouth and tasting the cinnamon from the alcohol and sticky remnants of Coca Cola on his lips made her brain go numb. She always did love how strong he was, how safe she used to feel wrapped up in his arms. There were a few wolf whistles surrounding them, but Y/N had been taken aback from the heat of it so early on, hand slipping between her and the counter to grab at her ass. A surprised moan left her mouth before Niall let out a laugh.
“Alright, alright. Stop eating her, Harry.” Niall smacked his back, making Harry pull back with a hazy smirk. Almost dopy, making her blink up at him with her eyes narrowing again. His eyes were dark, lips wet now and that dark pink she liked so, so much. He hadn’t shaved today, leaving a bit of stubble around his face, a backwards hat combing his hair back to keep it out of his face. The nose piercing was swapped from a stud to a hoop, making her a bit surprised. Had he done that for her? He knew she liked it….
“You can take your hand off my ass now.” Her sassy tone didn’t match how her eyes looked, secretly loving that he had so publicly claimed her in front of a girl they both knew wanted him. It was a sick feeling, the victory even though she knew it was wrong to feel that way. It was a constant fight with herself. Knowing she should most definitely not be feeling so happy that her ex had just kissed her dumb in front of all his friends, but still liking that she had a claim on him.
“I could.” He retorted. “But it feels so nice in my palm, and we both know how much you like it.” A squeeze was given, Y/N scowling back up at him but not making any attempt to move. If she wanted to, he would get out of the way- but they both knew how this went. She pretended she didn’t liked his hands on her, he taunted her, they would glare and play fight before it got a little real, and they’d fuck. A circle they’d swung around plenty of times. His lips lowered to her ear, ignoring the chatter around them. “You’re wearing my dress, hm?”
“Yours? M’sorry, did you want to wear it?” She rose her eyebrow that she definitely hadn’t laid to perfection before she came here. “I forgot you even liked this one. It was the first thing I could reach in my closet.” Her nose was turned up, this time pushing past him to go over to the drinks. She looked down to see a cup with his name scribbled on it with a sharpie, lifting it up for confirmation before throwing it back.
Regretted immediately.
“Ugh- Harry, what the fuck?” She gagged, nose wrinkled as she opened his fridge to grab a bottle of water. “I forgot how disgusting your drinks are. God, how do you even have a stomach?” She gave him a horrified look, swishing the water in her mouth.’
“No one told you to fuckin’ take mine!” He grumbled, taking the cup to find it empty. “Fucks sake, Y/N. Taking my drink and then bitching about it. As usual.” He came up behind her to grab the bottle over the fridge, his ‘good stuff’ or whatever. It was already that time of night?
Where they started poking at each other to cause a fight. To have an excuse to wander off and to strip down to nothing.
“Excuse me?” Y/N grit her teeth, turning to look at him as he poured into his recently emptied cup. He was trying to get a rise out of her.
“You heard me, princess. Know those ears work, considering you’re an eavesdropper.”
Oh, he was going low. She crinkled the water bottle in her hands, shoulders tending as she exhaled sharply through her nose. “Well I wouldn’t have had to if you didn’t get so fucking weird with your phone. You were the one hiding a ‘project partner’ from me.” Her fingers did air quotes around that, showing that she didn’t believe his excuse.
“Oh, for fucks sake.” Harry hissed, his own jaw setting. “I told you that she was just a partner for my paper. I didn’t tell you at first because I know you’d overreact and go all insane on me for daring to interact with another woman.” He snarled back, knowing where to hit where it hurt.
“I wouldn’t have had to be paranoid if you’d respected me to stop flirting and entertaining girls who disrespected our relationship by hitting on you in front of me! You literally encouraged it!” She was trying to keep her voice down, but it was hard. This was an especially sore spot.
“So replying with a thank you is encouraging it? Sue me for liking that someone complimented me on something!” He raised an arm up, running fingers through his hair in frustration before he turned away to lean on the counter with his arms crossed, cup in hand. “God, you do this every fucking time. We aren’t fucking together anymore, that’s your fault. Why do you continue to harrass me about this? Even if I did encourage it, I never went for it did I?” A cruel smirk emerged. “Though I’m a free agent now, yeah? Could go take Josslyn or Heather up on their offers?
Harry knew he had taken it a bit too far when her breathing caught for real, watching as he froze and her bottom lip trembled. That wasn’t a part of their regular script to wind each other up before hot sex. It was a bit of the real hurt that has blossomed through, but he hadn’t meant to let it out. Her eyes turned glassy, her hand snatching his drink and throwing it at his shirt.
“Fuck you.”
Harry felt the cold liquid hit him, hissing as he stood in slight shock as he watched her turn to leave. He had really fucked up. His stomach dropped as he tried to gather his bearings, cursing under his breath before going after her.
“Y/N! Fuck, don’t go.” He yelled after her, making his way through the throngs of people in his living room, eyes watching her back go towards the door. While he had definitely said fucked up things before, this had been designed to hit where it really hurt.
Y/N stomped through the living room, ignoring his calls for her as she got closer to the door- closer to escape- when she was caught. Arms wrapping around her waist as he pulled her into the bathroom next to the stairs and turning so he was against the door. Y/N kept her back towards him but yanked herself free from his grip, irritated that she was crying. That it still hurts. He knew it would and that’s partially what made it worse. He had been out to hurt her and she had known it was a bad idea to show up tonight but somewhere in her heart she had this tiny, tiny hidden hope that maybe tonight would be a night they could finally get over their differences. She missed him so much it ached if she allowed herself to feel it, but she had tried to refuse her feelings.
It had boiled over now, though.
Harry swallowed thickly as he heard the sniffle. Y/N wasn’t one to cry about a lot. She hadn’t shed a lot of tears in the time they’d been together, emotionally iron clad as it seemed. When she did? It was unnerving. Heartbreaking. It was one of his least favorite things ever, seeing her crumble. While he may have enjoyed getting her angry and irritated, maybe a little jealous, he never liked hurting her. He gained no pleasure from that.
“Baby…” He spoke softly, trying to turn her around, hands pulling at her shoulders. He was bigger than her and could definitely turn her around if he wanted to, but he wouldn’t ever touch her in a way she didn’t want.
“No. You can’t- you can’t call me that anymore. I am not your baby.” She hissed, keeping herself turned from him. Harry winced. She hadn’t said that before, not seriously, but the venom in her voice had shown how upset she was. It was laced with the hoarse blanket that coated her voice when she cried, making it even worse. “You can go call Josslyn or Heather. I’m sure they’d love to be your b-baby.” The end of the sentence was joined with a little sob, effectively breaking his heart further.
“No. No, I’m not… I didn’t mean it, Y/N. I promise. I was just upset and I didn’t mean for it to come out, I just wanted you to feel-”
“What?” Whipping around, Y/N’s mascara streaked cheeks were a blow to the chest. Her vulnerability was something he used to crave, to be the one she confided in or let herself break with. He wanted to be there for her. Not be the cause of her tears. “You wanted me to feel hurt, like you did? Do you not think I don’t hurt every fucking day?”
“You broke up with me!” Harry tried, her glare making him stop talking quickly after.
“I broke up with you because you didn’t take me seriously. How could you go from telling me you can’t wait to put a ring on my finger, can’t wait to have a family with me, to flirting with girls the same night? Do you know how humiliating it is to have your friends tell you that they heard so and so say they were going to try something because it ‘obviously isn’t serious with Y/N?” The incredulous look on her face made him shrink back a bit.
“I didn’t know that! It was never real flirting, Y/N. I liked to get my ego stroked, the attention felt nice, but I would never, ever step out on you. I love you, for fucks sake!” He went to reach for her but she backed up, flinching slightly. Another dagger to the chest. He had really, really fucked up. She never denied his touch.
“You love me?” A humorless laugh escaped her swollen lips. “Is that how you love people, Harry? Make them feel disposable and humiliated because you can’t be happy with one girl telling you that she loves you back? My compliments weren’t enough?” Arms crossed defensively over her chest. “Give me a fucking break. Telling me that as if you didn’t just say moments ago that you should take up girls who actively disrespected our relationship on their offers to fuck you while you were dating me? Yeah, that’s definitely something someone who loved me would do.” She wanted to stay angry but she was hurt. Hurt so bad, the full weight of their breakup actually hitting her as she felt the sob crawl up her throat and hurried to cover her eyes as she began to cry. It couldn’t be held back. She was at her breaking point.
Harry wanted to throw up. He hadn’t thought of it that way, and honestly? He had never expected this. Sometimes Y/N had acted as if she didn’t have a lot of emotion, reserved and a bit quiet when she expressed herself. The one time he had gotten her to let go was during sex, where he truly felt her desire. That was maybe why he liked the attention from other people. She wasn’t very forthcoming with praise or overly lovey with him, and it had hurt a little. But he could deal with that later, because his poor fucking girl was sobbing in front of him.
“No, no… sweet girl. Please.” He watched as she dropped down to sit on the floor, gathering her knees to her chest as he followed after her. “Hey- M’so sorry. I didn’t think about it like that. I really didn’t. I was just talking out of my ass because I was hurt we’re still broken up a-and I shouldn’t have said anything but….” He sat down fully next to her, pulling her body on to his lap. She tried to squirm at first but he could tell it was half hearted as she settled down a moment later, the sobs wracking her body as his arms wrapped around her and his lips went to her ear.
“M’so sorry, sweetheart. I didn’t ever want to make you feel that way. You’ve always been so important to me and this is breaking my heart.” He whispered. “Hate that you’re crying because of me. I hate that I ever made you doubt that you were important to me, or that I respect you. I do. I promise you, I do.” He whimpered slightly, desperate to get her to believe him. “I’m an ass, I know. But you have to know I do, I love you so much. I’m so fucking sorry for throwing that in your face.”
In the grand scheme of things, he knew that some people would think she was overreacting- but he understood now. He hadn’t truly meant to take it that far, hadn’t even stopped to think that those exact women had been sources of insecurity. They were the first to pop into his head because he had rejected them again tonight, waiting for Y/N to arrive.
He never wanted to be broken up with. He had planned on being with her forever, and he had fucked it up.
Her cries started to fade, sniffles taking the place of sobs as he whispered soft words, consoling her. He knew he’d fucked up tonight, in their relationship. He hadn’t communicated the way he needed to and he played games, but he thought that it would get a different reaction. His intentions weren’t to hurt her. Selfishly, stupidly, he assumed it hadn’t phased her. That she was just angry and not upset.
If she’d give him another chance he’d fix it. He’d make sure to open her up a little more, make her feel more safe. Reign in his flirting, make sure he was just polite instead. He’d never put their relationship in jeopardy again. “C’mon. Come with me, to my room.” Standing up, he pulled her along with her. It said a lot about her right now that she wasn’t fighting, letting him lead her to his room with her hand tucked in his own. Her face was downcast, making sure no one could see that she’d cried as Harry took the key from his pocket and undid the lock. He really didn’t want strangers in his room.
It was still the same. His navy bedspread and Nirvana posters on the side of his wall, his desk slightly messy with a leftover fast food cup sitting next to his water bottle on his night stand. He’s gotten it for her, because she got thirsty in the middle of the night.
What really got her attention was the framed photo of them that was right next to it. Her soft smile and his wide one, teeth out as he held her in his lap. His flannel was around her and his hat was backwards as he snuggled her. It had been cool that night but there was a bonfire, not enough seats and a handsy Harry ready to make his lap her throne. Her throat tightened as she looked at the photo, dropping his hand and wrapping her arms around her body to self soothe before she walked up to it.
“Why do you still have this up?” Her voice was shaky still, looking down at the happy memory.
“Because I still love you. I told you.” Hands were placed on her hips as she was brought into him, hugging her from behind as he unwrapped her arms and threaded their fingers together. “I know I’ve been shit. I’ve been… impatient, an attention whore, all of the insults you’ve said. But I love you. I have since day one. I’d have never cheated on you, regardless of what you may believe.” The idea of it made him feel ill.
“Then why?” Her wavering voice made him frown. “Why did you keep flirting with people in my face? I know you said it was cause I wasn’t giving you enough compliments but I didn’t know you thought that.” His heart nearly snapped in two when her voice broke. “I thought the world of you. I was so proud to be with you and then… I thought you just didn’t like me anymore. I know…” A deep inhale was felt as her tummy lifted both of their arms. “I know I can be a little cold or quiet, but I had no idea you felt neglected. I pulled back because you kept talking to other girls how you used to talk to me and… I didn’t feel like it was okay to.”
It made him feel worse. Hearing this now. Y/N had broken up with him and he’d been hurt, his pride making him sneer at her and the nastiness was even more uncalled for now that he knew. Y/N wasn’t a bitch, she wasn’t unfeeling- she didn’t feel safe. He’d done that to her because he was the little bitch here, not giving her the safety she needed in order to open up. While they should’ve been continuing growing, he got his feelings hurt and made it impossible for her to feel like she could give those things to him.
“I’m sorry.” His voice was weak. “I’m sorry. I’ll keep saying it. I didn’t mean it. I promise, nothing I've said is true. I wanted to wind you up, I wanted to fuck you because it was the only way you’d get close to me again. I never intended on making you feel unsafe with me, fuck. That’s the last thing I ever wanted. Makes me feel sick to hear that.” He nuzzled against her neck, placing a kiss there before pulling away, unwrapping them and sitting on the edge of his bed. Y/N wasn’t fighting him, so he gently tugged her to sit on his lap, this time facing him. “There she is.” A sad smile lifted his lips, thumb wiping away the streaks of mascara that had flaked off with her tears. “Still so pretty when you cry, even if it breaks m’heart.”
It was worse than a kicked puppy. Y/N wasn’t a huge emoter so knowing that he’d done this had made him wonder what she did alone. How many other times he’d made her cry but she wasn’t solid enough around him to do it in front of him.
“You broke mine.” She whispered, looking down at his shirt. “I don’t mean to be a bitch. I was just scared.”
“Oh, sweetheart.” He swallowed the lump in his throat. “Let me fix it. Please?” Holding her face in his hands, he got her eyes back on his. “Let me make it better. I won’t do any of that ever again, I’ll communicate better… Just let me make your heart feel safe again.”
Y/N knew she was a sucker for this. She shouldn’t say yes. Every part of her except her brain was screaming to stay, though. While her head was telling her to run away as fast as she could, her heart thudded in her chest and her body wanted closer to his own. It was a decision she may come to regret, maybe she’d hate herself for it, but she couldn’t let go. “O-Okay.” She whispered, feeling his head fall against hers. “Please don’t break my heart again, H. I can’t do that again.”
“I’d rather die.”
His lips were pressed against hers, and moved quickly from there.
One of the things that never lacked with them as a couple was sexual chemsitry. It’s what had them so obsessed with each other at first. The best way to get Y/N to express herself was when she was full of cock or close to the edge of orgasm, which was why Harry had no problem saying his apologies between her legs.
“M’sorry, baby.” He crooned, licking over her drippy slit. “So, so sorry. M’gonna take care of you.” Lips pressed kisses to her clit, a keening whine leaving her lips as fingers clutched his hair and brought him closer to her. His mouth had always been his greatest gift and biggest curse. Somehow he knew all the right things to say, all the right things to do to pleasure her but always stuck his goddamn foot in his mouth. He was going to change that now.
Dark green gazed into hers as he took another broad lick, the tip of his nose brushing over her clit. Large hands with chipped polish wrapped around her thighs and kept them spread, his hair a mess from her hands carding through it with their hot makeout and now his time spent working on her pussy. This was undoubtable a perk of being with the man, knowing how much he genuinely loved to eat pussy. He’d spend hours licking and sucking on her, making her sensitive and cum over and over again whenever he had the chance. For his birthday he’d genuinely wanted a day inside with her where he spent the majority of his morning eating her for breakfast, her thighs his perfect earmuffs from the snow that happened to fall on the day.
Whenever they spent time apart he missed this desperately. He’d not even tried to find someone to replace this because he knew the feeling wouldn’t ever be the same. Sure, he’d loved eating pussy before Y/N but it had turned into a full on obsession with her. No one had ever tasted as good, made as many cute noises, squealed when his mouth latched on her clit and his finger curled just right- like he was doing now, holding her bucking hips down.
“Oh, I know, Mama, I know.” He cooed against her. “Feels so fucking good, doesn’t it? Needed my mouth on this greedy fucking pussy…” Pursing his lips, he spit over her slit and watched it drip with a hiss before usng his tongue to spread it, digits dripping down to his wrist before his tongue trilled over the swollen bud. It didn’t take much to push her over, but a well timed smack against her thigh to get her to stop squirming had done the job. A wet gasp tore from her mouth as she squeale his name, simultaneously pulling his mouth against her and trying to push him away. Using his strength against her, he made sure to lick up a bit before spitting again, leaving her pussy wet and messy as he climbed up her body and kissed her hard.
His chin was wet and she knew he was a fucking mess but her tongue delved into his mouth, tasting herself on him. She could hear the tug down of his zipper, felt him moving and wiggling his pants down but she was too busy sucking on his tongue and reveling in his moans against her to think twice before she felt the tip of his cock smack against her cunt.
“I’m clean, baby. No one but you, never need anyone but you.” His grip on her chin was tight as he rutted himself against her cunt. “Even when you were being a miserable bitch t’me, all I wanted to do was love on you. M’gonna make sure you never fucking doubt how much you own me again. This is the only cunt I need.”
There was sick satisfaction that rolled through him as he slid into her and felt the stretch, watching her mouth fall open as she was filled. It only confirmed what he had hoped- she hadn’t been fucking around much, if at all. Granted, he was thick and long and it would be hard to beat him, but he knew what she felt like when she was well fucked. “Oh, look at that…” He whispered, angling her head down to look at where her pussy lips clung to his cock as he pulled out a bit. “She missed me, didn’t she, baby? Sweet pussy missed my cock so fucking much, doesn’t want me to pull away.”
Harry was by far the filthiest man she’d ever experienced but that’s part of the appeal. He may be a bit of an asshole, but god, he knew how to fuck. How to kiss. How to make her feel special when he wasn’t being a dickhead. Moments like this always wiped that shit clean, the slate cleared and her head foggy as all she could focus on was how right he was. “Yeah- yeah, don’t take it from me again.” She growled, digging her nails into his skin. “Don’t fucking take my cock from me again, don’t make me walk away. This is mine.”
Harry hissed, loving the sting on his skin and how she spoke. Y/N could be a fierce little bitch and he loved that about her. She hadn’t been pleased tonight and he’d taken it too far, but she was going to have no doubt how much he had been missing her. Their hate sex had been good, but their makeup sex was even better. “Never, Mama. Never, it’s all yours. You’re right.” His voice soothed, pushing back into her and reveling in how hot she was. Tight. Everything he could possibly need. “It’s yours always, and I don’t want anyone else. Jus’ want you to let me love on you, make you feel good. Be my girl again. He had everything else he wanted, but Y/N was the missing link. He’d fucked up with her, but he wouldn’t do it again. Not when this was how explosive it was between them.
“You better fucking treat me right.” Her hand held his face now. “Better be so nice to me, buy me f-flowers and hold my hand… Fuck me good, make sure all the other b-bitches know that you’re taken.” Her legs wound around him and he felt a heel surely to bruise his ass, but he didn’t care. “Don’t let them think you’re available because you’re an attention whore.”
Harry moaned at the degrading words, because they were true. He was indeed an attention whore and he’d never deny it. “Only for you, baby. Want all your fucking attention… fuck.” He hissed, thrusting slower as he looked at where they joined. “Creaming on my cock already, really must have missed me.” Noses brushed before he fucked harder into her, trying to bring her to the edge. “Fingers didn’t cut it, did they? No toy can make you feel as good as his. Know that you needed Daddy t’fuck you right.”
Y/N let out a wail as he tugged her hips up, his face leaving hers to sit on his knees while he fucked her. He was getting the spot she needed, saying the words she wanted and she felt hot all over. Syrupy, sticky hot as she dripped down her ass as the sound of their sex filled his room. The music muffled behind the door didn’t matter, all she wanted to hear was his dirty talk and the sound of their skin. “Yes, I needed it Daddy- Fuck me, fuck me right. You always make me cum over and over…” her head rolled back on the mattress as her fingers found his wrists, grounding herself as he fucked her steady and hard.
His eyes took in the view of bouncing tits and a messy cock pistoning in and out of her creamy cunt, breathing heavy while he felt her tighten up on him. His goal was always to make sure she came over and over, a generous lover being one of his positive attributes. “Mhm… It’s never changed, Mama. M’gonna give it to you just like that. God, you look so fucking pretty on my dick, baby. Need to capture it.” He adjusted slightly as he took his phone out, thankful his pants had only been down a few inches as he pressed record. A breathy laugh left him as he fucked into her willing body, aiming the camera down at her face. “Say hi to the camera, pretty girl.” He crooned.
“H-Hi Daddy.” She mewled, preening under the attention. It was a guilty pleasure of hers, knowing he had the filthy images and videos on his phone. It was even better to watch it back and see just how wrecked she got from him. “You’re gonna be nice to me so you- so you don’t have to delete these, right?” He’d had to delete all the videos when they broke up, but she hoped this time they’d get to stick around forever.
“Of course, my sweet girl. Never gonna fuck this up again… Not when we look so fucking good together. Feel so fucking good together…. Fuck, look at that…” He got a close up of her cunt as it stretched to fit him, clinging to his length. “You’re gonna cum, I can feel it.” His eyes met hers as he started to get her to the edge, her face glistening and eyes hazy. “Go on, baby. Do it. Cum on my cock, make a fucking mess.”
Harry could feel it as she did, the high pitched whine of his name and the bite of her nails as she writhed on his cock, the camera capturing her face as she did so. Mouth open and eyes rolled back, the blissed out smile following as he fucked her through it. He didn’t stop, tossing the phone to the side as he kissed her again as his cock pulsed, trying to hold back his own orgasm. “Mmm… fuck. I love when you cum on me. So gorgeous, all mine.” He rubbed their noses together again while humping into her, her impossibly hot cunt clinging to him as he peppered kisses to her face. “But I’m not done with you yet.”
“No?” She grinned, feeling drunk. “Should have known, you sex maniac- fuck.” She pushed his hand away from her cunt. “Give a girl a minute, fucks sake.”
“Just got you back, can you blame me?” He smiled against her mouth, sucking her lower lip into his mouth and grazing it with his teeth. He wanted her to look freshly fucked and glowing tomorrow when she had to meet up with her friends for brunch, sure to piss them off with the news that they’re back together. “Mean it, I’m not letting you go this time. Never again.” His smirk got bigger. “Pussy’s too fucking good.”
“Shut up, slut.” She pushed his face away playfully. You’ve got more than one orgasm to go until I think about taking you back. Prove your worth to me.” His cock could be felt twitching inside her yet again.
“Whatever you say, Mama.” He cooed, pulling out of her regretfully. “Now, get on your knees. I’ve got to say sorry to your pretty ass.”
#jarofstyles#harry styles one shot#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles fanfic#harry styles smut#harry writing#harry styles imagine#harry drabble#harry styles blurb#harry styles writing#exes to lovers#harry styles au#frat boy harry#frat harry styles#harry styles fanfics#harry styles one shots#harry styles fic#harry smut#harry fluff#harry angst#harry styles angst#harry styles fluff#harry styles oneshots
853 notes
·
View notes
Text
where the fun begins, 3 * ls2 (ms47)
while logan can't figure out where he had gone wrong with your relationship, you do.
pairings: frat!logan x reader, college!mick x reader
word count: 6.1k
notes: guys this took me forever and 2 and a half days to write so it's a bit long so i apologise but srsly <3 i got a bit carried away LOL idk if u can tell
(f1 masterlist)
| one | two | three | four |
"i'll say," frederik mutters into your ear, guiding you towards the bar. "you look very comfortable with mick. no drinking games, no body shots..."
you laugh, shaking your head. "yeah... i've come to learn that those really aren't my thing."
"i don't even see you at parties often," he laughs. "but, i'm curious," he looks towards the backyard where mick had walked off to, "what happened between you and logan?"
you raise your eyebrows and glance at lily, bottom lip between your teeth as stare up at the decorated house. "are you sure about this, lily?"
"please?" she hums innocently, turning to you with a smile. "it's a frat party, but oscar invited me. please, please?"
you watch drunk college students stumbling in the front yard and the strobing lights going crazy inside the house. at first glance, it's very overwhelming. it's probably because this is a scene you don't typically indulge in.
"okay," you sigh, laughing airily as lily links arms with you. "you're sure about this oscar guy?"
"yeah," lily says excitedly, helping you manoeuvre through the moving crowd. "are we late or something? why does it look like everyone's leaving already?"
lily knocks on the door and presses her lips together. lily lets go of your arm and fixes her shirt, brushing her fingers through her hair. she turns to you again. "do i look okay?"
"you always do!" you giggle, tapping her shoulder. "if he's a good guy, he will like you regardless. trust me on that one."
the door opens, revealing a guy you know you've seen around in your classes before, but never really knew his name. he sees you first, eyebrows shooting up at your presence on their front porch. "oh, what are you doing here? oh, lily!"
you press your lips into a small smile, pointing at lily. “for her.”
"of course! i'm frederik. you can call me fred," he shrugs. "you're under oscar’s guestlist tonight, right? and you’re lily's plus one?"
"yeah. is he around?" lily asks, craning her neck to peek into the chaos that awaits both of you in the house. "he told me to come at 8, but i saw people are already leaving. are we late?"
"nah, you're just on time," frederik laughs, beckoning for both of you to step into the house. he leads you through the small crowd. there are not as many people as you had expected. "that party's from the other frat next door. our party starts at 8. oscar's just woken up from his nap so i'll leave you guys in the vip area if you don't mind?"
"oh, you're leaving?" you pipe up, turning to him slightly. "why don't you stay with us and guard us?" he slumps his shoulders. "i'd love to. but we're tight on people tonight. i have to be everywhere."
he stops right by a stanchion, sectioning a part of the living room away from the crowd. there isn’t anybody in the said vip area, making you raise your eyebrows. perhaps you’re too early?
you actually have never been to a party, and it’s against your better judgment even to be here in the first place. if it hadn’t been for lily’s insistence to make it out to the party that oscar personally asked her to attend, you wouldn’t be here. either way, a frat party isn’t a place lily should be alone in.
“well, if you guys need any drinks, ollie is at the bar,” frederik smiles. he glances at lily. “you’ve met him, right? he will use the good liquor for you guys.”
“of course,” lily grins, dropping herself on the couch gently. “oscar’s on his way down?”
frederik glances at the stairs. “he should be. he doesn’t take that long to get ready.”
you watch with a frown as frederik walks away with a small wave, eventually disappearing into the house. the house is slowly filling with people and you take a seat next to lily with questions at the top of your head. “why is there a guest list?”
“yeah, the frat doesn’t like letting their parties get too wild so it’s by invite only,” lily explains. “it helps them minimise the chaos a little bit. i think that’s what oscar said.”
“that would be right.” a head makes you turn your head, jumping back at the head that’s popped between you and lily. “you guys are with oscar?”
lily nods. “i’m a friend of his.” she gestures towards you. “this is my plus one.”
“oh, cool,” he grins. “i’m logan. can i get you guys some drinks? we make cocktails, we’ve got beer… you can get it on the rocks too, if you want.”
you shake your head with a small smile. “i don’t drink. thank you, though.”
“i’d like a long island please,” lily smiles sweetly. she drops her head slightly to give you an encouraging smile. “you could get a mojito. it’s like sprite with mint — we can just ask them to put less alcohol in it.”
“do you have just sprite?” you press your lips together with a worried stare at logan. you never really cared what others thought, but you could feel the judgment coming through from the way he turned his head and looked at you in shock.
you didn’t know college students were so cutthroat about the consumption of alcohol.
“really? i could just ask ollie to put in a drop of rum into the mojito,” logan suggests. “but that’s up to you. don’t feel pressured to drink alcohol if you don’t want to.”
you smile politely and nod your head at him. “just a canned sprite will do. thank you.”
you take a deep breath, slotting your laptop and notebook into your bag. heaps of students are already rushing to pour out of the lecture room while you stay behind to wait the crowd out. maybe they’ve got places to be, but you’ve got nowhere to be.
you lean back on the row behind you, watching the crowd slowly die down before you make your way out of the row you were sitting at. in the other aisle, there’s someone still sitting, typing away on his laptop.
as you pass him, he looks up at you with a polite smile, his blue eyes bearing into yours curiously. you return a small smile before shyly turning away and hopping down the stairs.
he’s pretty cute, you’ve got to admit. all semester long — all 3 weeks of it since you started your sophomore year — you always somehow run into that same guy. you’ve come to find out, from his friends screaming it in the campus cafeteria, that his name is mick. but, well, you’re not brave enough to make a first move.
so you walk down the steps with a small grin on your face. you take one last glance at him, still very focused on his screen, before you pull the door open to leave the lecture hall.
“hey!” a figure immediately steps up in front of you when you let go of the door. “hi, i’m- i’m logan. we met at the party last friday? you went with lily?”
your eyebrows shoot up in shock, unsure why or how he’s standing outside here. or how he even recognised you in the first place. the frat house was dim and crowded when he came to offer you and lily drinks. “ah, yes! are you looking for lily? i don’t have many classes with her, but i can call her for you if you’d like.”
“no,” logan grins, shoving his hands into his pockets. “i actually looked for her to find you. i couldn’t find you at the party the other night. is everything okay? did something happen?”
your lips part with an understanding nod. “yeah, i took off early. parties aren’t really my thing,” you explain. “i did have fun for the hour that i did stay, though! i never got to thank you for the sprite that you got me.”
“don’t worry about that. we were hosting, and you guys were someone’s special guests, or so i heard,” he smiles. “so, um…”
you tilt your head and look up at him, slightly confused. what business did this frat boy have with you? had you done something wrong during the party? were you supposed to bid goodbye before leaving the party because it was invitational? “i’m sorry i didn’t say goodbye,” you blurt out of nervousness.
he throws his head back slightly, blinking blankly at your reaction. “what?”
“i’m sorry,” you laugh softly, “i don’t really go to parties, and especially not ones held in a frat.”
“what are you talking about? it’s not about the party,” he laughs. you tilt your head more and furrow your eyebrows at the dimple that makes a brief appearance on his face. he’s a lot cuter in daylight than he was in the neon lights that illuminated the dark living room of their frat house.
“oh. then what are you here for?”
“i was,” he looks away briefly with a small smile, “i was wondering if i could take you out to dinner some time?”
you straighten your back at his request and grip the handles of your bag that’s resting on your shoulder. “pardon?”
logan clears his throat and stands a little straighter. “well, i think you’re really cute. i’d really like to take you out to dinner some time this week. if,” he pauses, waiting to see for any more reactions that would give away your potential answer, “you think i’m also cute?”
“i mean i think you’re cute,” you grin sweetly, dropping your head slightly. you watch as a hopeful smile spreads across his face before an apologetic expression covers yours. “but i reckon i’m not really your type.”
“what do you mean?” his eyebrows furrow and he frowns slightly at your rejection. not to say that he’s never been at the receiving end of being rejected by girls before, but it’s certainly not as common as it used to be when he was in high school.
“i’m not a party girl. seeing as how you were that night at your party, it might be safe to assume that this wouldn’t really work,” you explain slowly. “it’s not a bad thing! i just… i don’t think we would click like that.”
logan continues to tower over you in shock. you sigh. “i’m really very sorry. you are cute–”
“then let me take you out on a date?”
“–but let’s not waste each other’s time.” you take a step to the side. “i’ll see you around, logan. i had fun at the party.”
lily laughs. “oh, come on. logan’s not that bad!”
“i literally watched him go crazy over beer pong!” you explain, throwing your head back in disbelief. you pinch the bridge of your nose at what she’s trying to get at after you told her the story. “i left 45 minutes into the party because the music was too loud!”
oscar sits on your couch, slightly amused at the situation with his arm slung around lily’s shoulders loosely. “he’s alright. he can be a bit much sometimes.”
“oh, you’re not helping your friend here,” lily gasps exasperatedly, smacking oscar lightly. oscar laughs softly, throwing his head back at lily’s will to defend logan through and through. she looks back at you and throws her arms in the air. “what’s the worst that could happen if you go out on one date?”
“i don’t want to waste my time. i have enough going on as is.” you widen your eyes and glance at oscar with pleading eyes, hopeful that he can find the words to get lily off your back. “we’re total opposites! i’m an academic — it’s all i’ve ever known.”
oscar shrugs. “she’s right, you know,” oscar mutters, earning himself a glare from lily. he tilts his hands up into the air. “logan’s not been an academic in a hot minute. he skips classes, he frequents parties a lot, he gets into fights…” he looks at you. “you made the right decision.”
“i know.”
“no,” lily says slightly firmer this time. she sits up slightly and plants her feet on the ground. “what if he straightens his act because of you? i think being in your company would really do logan some good.”
“you want me to let him take me out on a date just so he can justify the school fees he’s paying? are you crazy?”
“not like that! i mean, like, if the date goes well, then i think it would help logan see the brighter side of things,” lily explains with an eye roll. she turns to oscar. “don’t you think so? don’t you want to see logan in classes again?”
oscar squints his eyes, pursing his lips slightly as he looks at lily. you gasp and stomp your foot on the ground. “don’t tell me you’re actually considering this, oscar!”
“it’s a silly idea,” oscar says. you sigh in relief before you turn on your heel, ready to get some rest for your classes tomorrow. “but–” you turn back around in panic at his change of tone. “he’s a good guy in general; just a little… misguided nowadays. he’s a pretty sweet guy.”
“sweet guys wouldn’t skip class and challenge random party attendees to a fight when he’s one of the hosts.”
“true,” oscar points out knowingly, “but if you give him a chance, you’ll see that he’s not as bad as he was that night. i mean, it was a party. everyone gets rowdy sometimes at parties.”
you fold your arms over your chest, staring at them incredulously. there’s no way that they’re making you agree to go on a date with somebody who’s a polar opposite, right? either way, it seems unethical and rude to go out on a date with logan just to hope on the fact that he will get his act together.
“that’s not fair.”
“at least give him a chance,” lily grins, eyebrows raising hopefully. “he’s not as bad as you think he is.”
you walk the busy halls of the campus, trying your best not to bump into anyone as you send your parents a quick text message. you glance up at the lecture hall you’re heading towards and flinch slightly at the figure waiting right by the door.
you sigh softly to yourself, dropping your phone into your bag as you approach the door. “i said no, you know that, right?”
“you didn’t even give me a chance,” logan hums with the sweetest smile he can sport to show you. he extends his hand with a small bouquet and rocks back and forth on his feet. “one date. if you still don’t think we would be good together after that, i’ll leave you alone.”
you stare at the flowers before you lift your eyes to meet his. “logan…”
“one date. no alcohol, no drinks, no parties,” logan suggests. his eyes light up when you look back down at the bouquet. “a proper date. i’ll take you out on a proper date.”
“fine,” you say, taking the bouquet into your hands. you lift it slightly. “thank you for the flowers. i’m busy tonight and tomorrow, how does thursday sound?”
he can’t contain the smile growing on his face. “great! i’ll pick you up at 6?”
you nod, but before you can tell him where to meet you, he’s already jogging away from you. “hey, i haven’t told you where to pick me up!”
“i’m gonna be late to class!” he laughs, waving at you. “i’ll ask lily for your number — i’ll text you tonight i promise!”
you raise an eyebrow at his statement. he’s going to class. you tilt your head with a small smile and glance down at the flowers, grazing your nails over the petals of the lavender. you press your lips together, admittedly trying to calm your racing heart. it’s very thoughtful: the flowers and the waiting for you outside your lecture hall.
logan is lucky that he’s cute, or that simple gesture of waiting for you might have bordered the line of being weird.
you press your lips together and make a sharp turn towards the door again. someone swiftly passes your stiff figure right by the door, pushing the door open that leads into the lecture hall. he steps aside and holds the door open, peeking from behind slightly to beckon you to come in.
it’s mick.
you smile. “thank you.”
he glances down at what you have in your hands. “ah, flowers. lucky guy.”
logan walks next to you in the hallway of your apartment complex, his denim jacket wrapped around you warmly. he sighs with a small smile. “i hope you enjoyed the date, at least. it wasn’t much, but–”
“what?” you laugh, the sound echoing down the hall. “don’t beat yourself up over it. i enjoyed the restaurant and the food. i enjoyed the car ride to get desserts too.”
“i know it’s a little underwhelming,” logan sighs, scratching the back of his neck. “but i really do hope that you enjoyed the date. because i know that i enjoyed myself.”
much to your surprise, the date went very well. you didn’t have a lot in common with logan, but you did click to a certain degree. surprisingly, he did have a pathway he wanted to pursue after graduation, which is why he’s enrolled on the major he’s in right now.
he softly, and hesitantly admitted to you that it’s been difficult to find motivation since the new semester started. you completely understand that.
you stop at your door, then turn to look at him. “don’t overthink it. i enjoyed myself tonight. thank you, logan.”
you’re ready to walk through that door right now and admit to lily that you’ve misjudged logan’s character. despite his tendency to be a bit of a walking menace, oscar is right about him being a sweet guy.
he opened his car door for you in all instances, gave you flowers (despite having given you one just two days ago), held your bag and gave you his jacket despite it being cold outside. you insisted on going dutch with the bill, but he beat you to the cashier to pay for the entire meal.
“do i get to take you out on a second date?” logan raises an eyebrow with a small smile. “i know a place.”
you press your lips together, trying to hold back a smile and a definite answer. you step forward and press a kiss on his cheek, giggling when you see his cheeks flush. “let’s have lunch tomorrow after my morning class,” you say with a pat on his shoulder. “text me when you get back to the frat house.”
he barely has any time to respond before you stumble into your apartment with a hand to your chest. lily, sitting on the couch doing one of her assignments, immediately looks up with wide eyes and a hopeful grin.
you don’t say anything, just shriek and run over to the red head with stories upon stories spilling past your lips.
“is this seat taken?”
you look up and flinch slightly at the pair of green eyes and soft smirk looking down at you. “logan! you aren’t in this class. what are you doing here?”
“i don’t have a class right now,” logan whispers with a small grin. “the library is full, the guys are being rowdy in the house — i’ve got an assignment i need to start on.”
“and you thought my lecture would be the perfect place to get some peace and quiet?”
“yes. and also the fact that you’re here helps.” he starts to put his things on the empty spot next to you. “do you wanna grab some dinner after your class?”
you frown slightly, keeping your eyes trained on the door for your professor to walk in. admittedly, you’re quite scared that logan’s in a class that he’s not supposed to be in.
surely your professor wouldn’t notice a fresh face in a room full of a hundred students, right?
“i’ve got tutoring after my class. it’s tuesday.”
“right. i forgot,” logan whispers. “can i pick you up afterward then?”
“i can’t stay out late. i’ve got class early tomorrow.”
“i know,” logan nods, pressing his lips together into a smile. “just want to see you. let me send you home?”
you laugh sheepishly, turning your head to look at him. you promptly drop your smile when you realise he’s serious. “oh, you’re serious.” he nods with a hopeful smile, repeating his question if you’d let him. you smile and sink into your seat. “sure. that’s very thoughtful. thank you.”
you press your lips together, picking at your nails as you look over the railing to the crowd downstairs. “are you sure about this? i can just go home if you want. i don’t really want to be a bother…”
“no, don’t be silly,” logan smiles, taking a step down. he holds his hand out to you. “it’s a smaller party than the first one you attended. no plus ones this time.”
you hum, pressing your lips to the side. “i’m not really a party person, lo.”
“it’s not a party. it’s a small get-together.” you hesitantly take his hand, letting him lead you down the stairs. “but i guess if you prefer to head home… i can drive you home.”
you take a deep breath and try to count the number of people on the first floor. there’s no way this is considered a small get-together — you lost count after 20. “i’ll stay for a little while… no drinks for me, okay?”
“just a little bit?”
you sigh. “like, a drop.”
“are you guys together yet?” lily giggles, watching you walk out of the kitchen with a mug of hot chocolate.
“are you and oscar together yet?” you throw the question back at her, tucking your legs under your body. lily stares at you with wide eyes, lips pursed together at your retort. “exactly. that’s what i thought.”
“but that’s not the same.”
“you’re right — it’s not the same. cause you and oscar actually like each other.”
lily tilts her head. “you still don’t like logan? i thought everything is going well.”
“i do! i already do — i like him a lot, actually,” you sigh. “but i don’t know… we’ve been going out for like 3 weeks… i don’t know what we are.”
lily’s face contorts into something of disbelief. she looks at you. “you guys still haven’t established anything yet?”
you press your lips together. “is it that bad that we haven’t established anything yet? isn’t it like… normal? i mean, we’ve only been seeing each other for 2 months.”
“it’s already been 2 months?” you watch lily sink into the couch and puff her cheeks. “you guys are together more than half the week… have you even held hands yet?”
“of course, we have,” you scoff, slightly offended. despite being closed off yourself and being more on the inactive side, you’ve had your fair shares of relationships. “i’m not a prude — not that it’s a bad thing to be one. but seriously, lily?”
“maybe logan’s more traditional about things like this,” lily mutters, shrugging. she takes a scoop from her tub of ice cream and shoves the spoon into her mouth. “who knows? i’m not his friend.”
“that’s what i’m trying to say. but i don’t know. maybe he just doesn’t like me as much as he thought he would when he first asked me to go on a date,” you shrug, pressing your lips together. “that’s okay. maybe i should ask him tomorrow when we go the pier?”
“should you, though?”
you shrug. “better than living in the dark, right?”
lily presses her lips together. “what about that cute guy in one of your lectures? have you guys interacted again recently?”
you drop your head with a shrug. “not since he saw me with flowers in my hands that one time. he sits really far back nowadays and leaves with the crowd.”
“i told you he had a thing for you,” she says, words muffled from the ice cream in her mouth as she points the spoon directly at you. “you never believe me — i’m like the love expert or something.”
you dart your tongue out and kick her lightly. “because you’re often wrong. oscar is probably the only decent guy you’ve dated.”
she perks up with a proud smile. “i know. he’s so not made to be a frat bro. if it weren’t for logan and the difficulty of finding housing for college, he wouldn’t have been there.”
you breathe out slowly as the wind pushes all of your hair out of your face. you feel logan’s grip around your hand tighten as you take a stroll on the boardwalk of the beach near campus.
since logan had picked you up from your apartment, you’ve had this nagging feeling creeping up on you. it’s one thing to talk about asking him about the status of your relationship, but it’s another to stand in front of him to actually say the words and get an answer. “i want to ask you something if that’s okay.”
“of course,” logan nods, slowing down with his eyebrows furrowed. “is everything okay?”
“yeah, i just don’t know if i should be asking you this at all,” you say softly, turning to face him. you grab his other hand and purse your lips together. “we’ve been going out for a while… lily’s asked me, but i don’t really know what to answer. what are we? like… are we together?”
his reaction is unreadable. you watch as his forehead relaxes, but the way his lips part and the way his eyes stare into yours intensely is telling you a different story. “i… um…”
you smile and squeeze his hands. “that’s okay. you don’t have to put a label; it’s just a question.”
you turn away to continue your walk when logan pulls you back gently to face him. “no, it’s not that i don’t want this to go anywhere — i do. i really like you. but i feel like… we should take this slow, don’t you think so? there’s a lot more we don’t know about each other, and–”
“no need to explain yourself,” you hum, patting his shoulder gently. “we can go slow if you need to. after all, you’ve got tons of assignments to catch up on.”
he laughs. “there’s really too many to count.”
“there’s only too many to count because you keep skipping classes, lo.”
“try it,” oscar laughs, handing you a slice of lime. “lily’s got a plastic bag in case you have to puke.”
you hesitantly take the lime into your hands and raise an eyebrow. “are you guys sure about this? i told you i’m not a drinker.” you lift the cocktail in your hands. “i’m good with my cocktail. shots are daunting.”
liam sighs, shaking his head. “no, mate. you don’t have to drink the tequila if you don’t want to.”
“just try it once,” oscar shrugs. “one shot. the trick is to get a lot of salt to really offset the taste of tequila. then bite on the lime to finish it off.”
logan smiles at you. “do you want me to show you how to do a body shot, babe? it’s easy, and i’ll only pour half for you.”
you laugh, throwing your head back. “um, sure? how do you even–”
lily steps forward. “you need to put the lime in your mouth. and then,” she pauses to take something from the table, “we put the salt on you. is your neck okay?”
“my neck?”
“it’s a body shot,” logan giggles, breath already reeking from all the beer he’d drank from his game of beer pong. “it’s supposed to involve the body in some way.”
you take a deep breath. “i guess.”
you tilt your head back slightly and look into the crowd, bored. if you had the option to sit out this party, you genuinely would. but the frat was hosting again and logan insisted that you make a small appearance for a couple of hours.
or, in his words, he’ll teach you a couple of drinking games for the future. if not for your time in college, at least for the parties to come into your adulthood.
you lean back against the counter as lily swipes your neck with damp fingers, pressing a bit of salt against your skin. you sigh as she positions the lime into your mouth, careful not to bite too hard.
a familiar pair of blue eyes shine in the dark, looking right at you as he enters a kitchen with a friend. he furrows his eyebrows at the sight of you surrounded by a crowd of frat brothers and lily. you scrunch your nose and raise your eyebrows at him, prompting mick to wave at you hesitantly with a confused expression on his face.
which, you can argue, you’re probably having the same thought as he is: what the hell is someone like you doing in a frat party?
he disappears into the crowd, making you sigh to yourself before you feel a pair of lips hovering dangerously close to your ears. “ready, babe?”
you turn your head slightly and grin. “yes. show me how to do a body shot.”
you purse your lips together. “sorry, lo. i’m not really feeling a party tonight. i think i’ll just head back,” you say softly, leaning on the railing that gives you a sneak peek of what kind of party it would be tonight.
in the first place, you’ve got a submission for an assignment on monday night. this weekend is important that you keep free for yourself — you told logan that multiple times. yet he still insisted that you stay over tonight for the party.
“are you sure?” logan sighs, frowning slightly. “can you stay a while? frederik invited the other frat over for a party. they’re mostly upperclassmen. it won’t be that bad tonight.”
but you’re insistent. you’ve still got tons of research to do. “no, i’ve really got to head back tonight. i’m sorry, lo,” you shake your head, walking around logan to head down the steps by yourself. “you don’t have to drive me back if they’re already here. i’ll just call an uber.”
logan tilts his head and chases after you down the steps. he stops a step after you, prompting you to come to a halt. “are you sure, babe? you don’t even have to drink tonight; you can stay in my room and do your research for your paper. you don’t have to go.”
“i’m sure,” you smile slightly. though, you remember a time when it wouldn’t even have to be questioned that you preferred to leave early instead of sticking around for the party. “i’ll just text you tomorrow.”
you shake your head and press your lips together, walking towards the door of the house. you keep your head low, not wanting to receive any questions from frederik or his friends why you’re leaving so soon since the party had just started.
when you get away from the crowd of the house, you’re dialling lily’s phone number to pick you up. when she doesn’t answer, you sigh and try to book an uber for yourself. but, it’s a busy friday night and drivers wouldn’t earn much driving you two blocks out of campus.
you sigh, fully considering the 25-minute walk back to your apartment complex.
“hey, what are you doing out here instead of the party?” a familiar voice approaches you, making you turn around to meet the brightest blue eyes you’ve seen. he says your name in a question to confirm if it’s really you and you respond with a shy nod. “heading home early?”
“yeah,” you laugh airily, glancing down at your phone to see if you’ve gotten any luck with an uber. “i still have research for that one assignment we have due on monday. i wish i could stay.”
“do you need a ride back?” he smiles, tilting his head with a sweet smile. “i’m designated driver tonight, by the way, if you’re concerned about drinking and driving.”
“no,” you laugh, shaking your head. “i don’t want to keep you from the party. i can walk home.”
“it’s really late. are you insane?” he raises an eyebrow and beckons you down the sidewalk where his car is parked. “come on, let me make your life a little easier and drive you home.”
“hey, liam?” you say softly, barely tapping the taller man’s shoulder to get his attention. he stands from his position over the table, filling cups for the next round of beer pong. “sorry.”
“it’s no problem, mate. what’s up?” liam bends down slightly, though continuing to pour beer into the red solo cups, leaning into you to listen to you over the music. “can i help you with something?”
“yeah, um,” you trail off, “have you seen logan? he left me alone like about 10 minutes ago. i haven’t really seen him since. i’m getting pretty worried.”
“oh, i saw him.” ollie appears next to you with a small smile. “i saw him go up to his room about 5 minutes ago. he was on the phone with somebody, i think. it looked really serious, actually, but i don’t know. it’s logan — you never really know.”
liam laughs. “you know where his room is, right? ollie can bring you if you’ve forgotten.”
you give them a thumbs up with a smile. “i can get to his room. thank you.” you pat ollie on the arm. “thank you. prepare me a margarita? i’ll be back down soon with logan.”
you quickly excuse yourself, pushing yourself through the crowd. you jog up the stairs and immediately find logan’s room. well, it’s not that hard; it’s the second door to the left in the long stretch of bedrooms. the door to his room is slightly ajar.
“lo–” you cut yourself when you pop your head in and see that he’s still on the phone.
“will you just listen to me? fuck’s sake?” logan says tiredly. you peek in slightly more. he’s sitting on the edge of his bed, elbows on his knees as he grabs his cheeks. “i– i don’t know, okay? i like her– yes, i do. but i still think of you. sometimes.”
you furrow your eyebrows. you never knew about a potential ex-girlfriend that he could still be hung up about. “i’m not leaving her for you. i told you this before — whatever happened 3 months ago, that’s all that will ever be of us.”
you try to do the math in your head. if you’ve been seeing logan for approximately 5 months now, what the hell did he do 3 months ago? well, you suppose you didn’t have a label up until you asked 2 and a half months in. which is fine and realistic — on a technicality.
@cashtons-wife @localwhoore @vroomvroomcircuit @foreveralbon @what-is-happening-helpp @angsthology @urfavnoirette
#logan sargeant x reader#logan sargeant x you#mick schumacher x reader#mick schumacher x you#f1 x reader#f1 x you#f1 fanfic#f1 fanfiction#disneyprincemuke#disneyprincemuke imagine#disneyprincemuke imagines#disneyprincemuke f1#frat!au
225 notes
·
View notes
Text
When Atsumu and Osamu are rushing the INZ fraternity, part of the hazing is that they get a handful of the pledges wasted and take them to a tattoo parlour to get whatever tat the older members decide on.
Kita (who abhors the more gruesome hazing rituals) finds out when he gets back to the frat house from a group project meeting at the campus library, and he and Aran rush to stop it. But by the time they get to the shady tattoo parlour on the other side of town, Atsu's already got a dainty little butterfly tattooed on his left buttcheek -- and a teetering Suna is stencilled and about to get one on his ankle. The two older Iotas stop it before it can go any further, and Atsumu is left to forever lament (loudly and frequently) the fact that they didn't get there just a few minutes earlier--especially because now he and his twin no longer match.
So the next year, just before the twins birthday, Osamu goes and gets a little tattoo on his upper thigh. So high that it's never at risk of peeking out by accident; you'd have to be seeing him naked to catch a glimpse of it.
A butterfly in monochrome. Well, a moth, technically--which he decides is a little less lame than a butterfly.
For his brother (who's too stupid to know the difference anyway.)
256 notes
·
View notes
Text
can i walk you home?
16. puppy day
warnings food, dogs
ciwyh masterlist next
taglist @peterparkoure @bangchansbae @chaotickyrith @napalmskiez @john-joong @phtogravi @nyasstars @httphans @hello-2-u-from-me @punkhazardlaw
#ciwyh#can i walk you home#jeongin x reader#jeongin fanfic#jeongin smau#jeongin x gn reader#jeongin x y/n#jeongin x you#i.n x y/n#i.n x you#i.n imagine#i.n smau#i.n x reader#frat!jeongin x reader#frat!au#frat!skz#frat!stray kids x reader#stray kids x y/n#stray kids fanfic#stray kids x reader#stray kids x you#college!jeongin x reader#college!reader#gn!reader#gn reader#gender neutral reader#stray kids x gender neutral reader#smau#college!au#stray kids smau
30 notes
·
View notes
Text
𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐦𝐞 𝐝𝐢𝐳𝐳𝐲 - lee minho x gn!afab reader
wc: 6.1k
rating: 18+. MDNI
cw: alcohol, normalisation of getting very wasted, smut (specific smut warnings under the cut, again minors please do not interact!)
synopsis: the best surprises come from the most unexpected sources - like having your crush corner you in a frat party after hearing you confess your deepest desires of him in the background of a video.
a/n: part one of the fratboy series. fratboy lee minho has now taken over my entire brain, my heart, and also my life, so i hope you all enjoy. PLEASE feel free to stop by our askbox to chat to me abt him because truly, i am obsessed.
˚ʚ♡ɞ˚
sw: swearing, dirty talk, sexy mean minho, no seriously he’s mean, thigh riding, nipple play, begging, dumbification, degradation, penetration with a finger & dick simultaneously, talks about sex slaves (maybe only slightly serious), lovely aftercare
˚ʚ♡ɞ˚
When the opening notes of Half Moon by Dean met your ears, you couldn’t help but groan. You loved the song, but it signalled an incoming call that you’d been expecting all day. You flipped your phone over, confirming your suspicions; Jisung’s squishy cheeks flashed on your screen as his contact icon showed up.
“What do you want?” you asked as you answered the call, despite knowing very well what he wanted.
At the beginning of the semester, your best friends had joined a fraternity, Sigma Kappa Zeta. It was an absolute dream - on paper at least. You didn’t have to commit to the endless fraternity obligations, which are often ridiculous and sometimes downright dangerous; although you still had regular invites to the blowout parties, owing to your connections to Felix and Jisung. You’d attended a few of these parties and enjoyed them thoroughly. Being pretty meant you got free booze, and what could be better than getting wasted for free, with two of your favourite people? While ogling their endless hoard of stupidly attractive friends, of course.
Your taste in men could be summarised as… unfortunate. You had an affinity for frat boys, the bigger and stupider the better. Muscular guys, with stupid goofy grins and sleeveless tees, bulging biceps and empty heads. Something about them really got you going, and it frustrated you to no end. But you loved to indulge yourself, and Felix and Jisung knew this all too well. And so, they were left baffled when you very quickly stopped attending these parties. Baffled, disappointed, and worst of all, persistent.
“Hey, angel,” Felix’s voice rang out from your speaker.
“You aren’t Jisung,” you stated.
“Very observant,” he responded, leading you to roll your eyes. You didn't even bother to question why he was calling you from Jisung’s phone. “Anyways, I assume you’ll be in attendance tonight?”
You snorted. “Obviously not.”
“Y/N!” Felix’s deep voice gave way to a drawn-out whine. “Why not?”
“Cause I don’t want to spend time in your disgusting frat house,” you huffed.
“Not even for me?” he pleaded with you.
“This isn’t working. You can’t guilt-trip me when I can’t actually see your stupid adorable face,” you pointed out.
“Fine, I’ll turn my camera on-”
“No. Look, why don’t you and Ji come drink with me in my dorm? Like the good ol’ days?” you suggested. Good ol’ days referring to a few months ago, before they’d joined the fraternity.
Felix paused for a few moments. “Fine. Maybe. Only because we miss you!”
“Come over then. See you soon!” You hung up before he could argue any more - you all knew you’d won.
˚ʚ♡ɞ˚
Just moments after Jisung and Felix showed up at your door, you began to consider the possibility that maybe you didn’t win after all.
“Y/N!” Jisung cried, before proceeding to push past you and collapse onto your bed. “Why do you never hang out with us any more?!”
You turned to Felix. “What have you brought to my doorstep?”
Felix shrugged. “He chugged like, three beers before we even left.”
"I guess we'd better catch up then."
It wasn't long before you were all feeling merry, though it would be amiss to say you'd caught up with Jisung, given that he often seemed intoxicated even when he was sober.
"I miss you guys, too!" you insisted, hushing the boys' griping. And you really did miss them. Since classes had ended, and people had limited obligations, the frat seemed like a 24/7 party house at the moment, which meant you hardly ever saw them. "I just… these frat parties, it's not really my scene."
The look Felix sent you told you that he didn't buy it, not one bit. The look Jisung sent you, on the other hand, told you that he was currently so drunk that he had a very tenuous grasp on reality, and was just happy to be involved.
"I've seen you eye up at least three guys at the frat. Not your scene? Nothing has ever been more your scene," Felix said, his tone accusatory. "I know it's nothing to do with us. So spill. Why are you avoiding the frat?"
Jisung had wandered off to the other side of your room, where he seemed to be making a concoction of different beverages. He didn't seem to be making a mess, so you thought it best to leave him while he was quiet.
You huffed. "Fine. One of your stupid little frat bro's is driving me insane. But I won't say who!" you added hastily.
Felix's eyes glinted. "Driving you insane? In what way? Like, someone's pissed you off? Or they're making you insanely horny and you don't know how to handle it."
You hid your face in your hands with a groan. "You know me too well, Lix."
Felix laughed gleefully. "Changbin?"
"Don't start guessing! I'm not gonna tell you!"
"Chan?"
"No!"
Felix paused, thinking hard. "It's Minho."
"It’s not Minho!"
He cackled. "You're an open book, it's Minho! You're horny for Minho!"
You let out a weak whimper in protest. "I just… God, nobody's ever affected me like this before, Lix! I don't even wanna be around him 'cause I know I'll say something stupid. Or maybe just start drooling on him."
Felix shrugged. "I guess I can't blame you. He is a gorgeous guy."
"Understatement of the century," you scoffed. "If I had to choose between solving world hunger and sucking his dick, I'd choose his dick. A thousand times."
Felix, in that beautiful drunken phase where everything was utterly hilarious, was clutching his stomach, in complete stitches on your floor.
"I'm not even joking, Lix! I'd devote the rest of my life to being his sex slave. He wouldn't even need to feed me, I'll survive off his cum if I have to!"
Felix wiped a tear from his eye. "Stop, stop. You're killing me." He turned to Jisung, who was still apparently playing potions with various different drinks.
"And that," Jisung said to no one in particular, "Is how you make a Hanji Supreme."
"What the fuck are you doing, Ji? Are you vlogging over there? Get your ass over here and listen to what Y/N has to say about Lee Minho."
"Okay, bye!" Jisung said, still seemingly speaking to thin air. He turned to you, eyebrows raised. "Minho? Y/N has the hots for Minho?"
"Unfortunately," you confirmed.
"We could probably set you up with him," Jisung proposed, a dastardly grin on his face.
"No," you quickly denied. "Never. Under no circumstances do you ever mention my name in Minho's presence. Got it?"
Jisung pouted. "But then your dreams are never gonna come true!"
You chewed on your lip. "I feel like a stuttering mess whenever I even think about him. I can't imagine what'd happen if I actually spoke to him."
"Wait, you've never spoken to him?" Felix clarified, and you shook your head. He smirked. "You were saying some pretty vulgar stuff, considering he's practically a stranger."
You rolled your eyes. "Yeah, yeah, I'm a creep and a perv. That's why he can never find out about this. Seriously," you said sternly, directing this last part at Jisung. He wasn't exactly known for keeping secrets.
Felix looked him up and down. "I don't think he's even going to remember this tomorrow, if I'm being honest."
"Yeah," you agreed. "He seems like he's done for the night." The boy was lying flat on his back, the brim of his beanie pulled over his eyes. His phone was buzzing away on his chest, notification tone pinging every few seconds.
Felix sighed. "I just hope he doesn't get one of those second winds."
“Jisung, honey, is someone trying to get hold of you?” you asked, the chiming of his phone growing irritating. You figured he’d texted one of his many booty calls and then instantly forgotten about it.
“Huh?” he asked, clearly not really listening.
Felix’s phone began to buzz on the floor. “Someone’s trying to get hold of me.” He brought the phone to his ear. "Hey, what’s up? He's - he's what?" Felix covered his other ear. "It's really loud over there, did you say he's on the table? Christ - okay, okay, we'll be right over."
"What was that?" you asked. "Is everything okay?"
Felix sighed. "Hyunjin's partying a little too hard. Seungmin can't deal with him alone. C'mon, we gotta go wrangle him."
"We just went over this - I'm not stepping foot in Minho's territory, not even for a second," you said adamantly.
"Relax, he's partying with Theta Chi Theta tonight," Jisung slurred happily, sitting upright and fixing his beanie. "C'mon, Y/N, come party with us!"
Felix looked to you pleadingly. "I can't deal with drunk Jisung and drunk Hyunjin without you. Please."
Fuck. Felix knew you could never say no to his puppy-dog eyes.
"Fine."
Even with the knowledge that Minho was preoccupied somewhere else, you still felt a little wary as you stepped into the house. It did occur to you that you could be a little too terrified of this man, but you knew all too well that both your horniness and your stupidity were utterly limitless, which was always a recipe for disaster.
You heard Hyunjin before you saw him - "Why can't I get naked, though? It's so hot in here!"
You snickered. He was still on the table, although he looked a little wobbly so you doubted it'd be too long until he came tumbling down. Jisung wandered off, probably up to no good, whilst you and Felix hurried over.
Seungmin breathed a visible sigh of relief when he saw you. "So glad you're here. Okay, I'm off duty. Good luck." He had vanished within seconds.
Hyunjin waved excitedly when he caught sight of you both. "Hi Lix! Hi Lix's pretty friend!"
You laughed at his drunken boldness. "It's Y/N," you corrected him.
"I know." He grinned down at you from the table, eyes disappearing into crescents. "You're brave, too," he crooned.
"Brave?" you asked, raising an eyebrow at him.
"If I was you, I probably wouldn't show my face around here until the end of the semester, at least," he went on.
Felix narrowed his eyes at the boy. "What are you talking about?"
Hyunjin stared at Felix for a moment. Then switched his gaze to you. Then back to Felix. Before erupting into a fit of giggles.
"Oh my god, please sit down before you fall and crack your damn skull," Felix pleaded with the boy.
"Yeah, and more importantly, explain yourself," you added.
Hyunjin sat obediently, pulling out his phone and handing it to Felix.
"Oh fuck," Felix breathed. "I have the group chat muted right now."
"The group chat?" you enquired anxiously. "Please tell me what's going on." Your paranoia was getting the best of you, and while you stood waiting for someone to fucking explain, you were slowly convincing yourself that you'd stolen Felix's phone and confessed your attraction to Minho in the most crass and unrefined terms.
This wasn't too far from the truth.
Felix opened up a video, skipping towards the end. You noticed Jisung, sitting cross-legged on the floor of your dorm room, chattering away about various beverages. More prominently, however, you heard your own voice, from the other side of the room.
“I’ll survive off his cum if I have to!”
Your heart plummets to the ground as the memory comes rushing back. Fuck.
You grab Felix’s arm, holding on for dear life. “Tell me this isn’t happening. Tell me Jisung only sent that to Hyunjin and no one else.”
Felix handed the phone back to Hyunjin and placed his hands on your shoulders, steadying you. “Look, it’s going to be okay. People say stupid shit like this all the time-”
“Oh look, Minho’s read the messages!” Hyunjin calls out.
You put a hand over your mouth. “I think I’m gonna throw up.”
“He’s typing!”
“No!” you wailed.
Hyunjin turned his phone around once more. You peered at the screen in turmoil as three dastardly little letters popped up.
lol
"Oh, Y/N, you're so lucky he's not here tonight," Felix said, sounding relieved. Distantly, you felt a shred of relief too, although that was nothing compared to the complete and utter dread you were experiencing. Oh, the consequences of your own drunken, horny actions. Was there anything worse?
"Oh," Felix murmured, pulling his buzzing phone out of his pocket. "Oh."
"What?" you asked.
"He's calling me."
You called out "Don't answer it!" just as Hyunjin yelled "Answer it!"
Felix accepted the call, bringing the phone to his ear.
"Oh my god, I'm scared. Hold my hand." You scrambled for Hyunjin, who grasped your hand in his before giggling.
"Your hands are soft," he commented, apparently having forgotten the Minho debacle already. You swiftly hushed him.
Felix also raised a finger to his lips in a shh motion, before putting the call on speakerphone.
"Are you at the house? Is Y/N with you?" Minho’s voice came through the speaker.
Felix paused, looking at you with wide eyes. You shook your head furiously.
"Uh, yeah," he answered, the traitor. You fought hard not to scream.
"Can you pass a message across?" you heard Minho ask.
"Sure."
"I'm on my way." The line clicked dead.
Your heart was hammering in your chest. “LEE FELIX WHY THE FUCK DID YOU TELL HIM I'M HERE?"
"I DON'T KNOW, I PANICKED!" he shrieked back, sounding equally as alarmed as you.
“This is crazy,” Hyunjin commented with a dazed grin.
“You are far too drunk to understand the absolute catastrophe I’m in right now!” you accused him. “Oh my god, what am I gonna do? I need to go - immediately.”
“Not so fast.”
You spun around in complete and utter horror, terrified that Minho had somehow materialised from his other party right back to the frat. Only to find Seungmin standing before you - just slightly less threatening.
“Jisung is far too drunk, and he’s begging for you,” he explained.
“God, what is in the air tonight?” you observed. “Do you guys need to do a fraternity-wide detox?”
Seungmin snorted. “Like that’s ever gonna happen. Go on, Jisung’s in his room.”
God fucking damn it, why were you such a good friend? You tore up the stairs, bee-lining for Jisung’s room, fully intending on hiding in his bedroom for the rest of the night. Minho wouldn’t find you in there if you locked the door, right? You were even willing to put up with your best friend’s snoring.
"Hey, Sungie," you said gently as you walked into his room. You found him curled on his bed, still dressed in his hoodie, cargos and beanie.
"Y/N… You're finally here…" he mumbled.
"You sound sleepy. Is it bedtime?" you asked, sitting down on the bed beside him. You tugged the beanie off his head, and ran your hand through his hair, scratching his scalp gently.
"Bedtime? Hmm… No… It's still party time for now." His words were slurred, and you knew he was just minutes from dozing off - seconds, maybe.
"Sure," you said, as it was typically better to just agree with him. "You wanna get your pyjamas on? We can have a pyjama party."
"No. I'm comfy like this." You seriously doubted it, but didn't have it in you to battle him right now.
Sure enough, he was snoring less than thirty seconds later. You wondered if it was worth shoving him a bit, to climb in bed beside him, or whether it'd be best to just run home. But you didn't know how far away Minho was, and the thought of bumping into him was too much to bear.
You deliberated for a few moments, but Jisung's snoring was driving you insane, and you quickly realised that you weren't equipped to deal with it tonight.
You pulled out your phone, opening Felix's contact.
[10:44pm] You: lixie do u have minho's location?
[10:44pm] You: lix please please please
[10:44pm] You: felix pls i need to know how far he is
You sat on the edge of Jisung's bed, leg bouncing with nerves. Why was Felix always muting his damn notifications?
[10:48pm] Lix: idk sorry :( i think his party was nearby though
[10:48pm] Lix: look, just run to my room
[10:49pm] Lix: you'll be safe there
You weighed up your options.
Option one: stay here with Jisung, awake all night owing to his snoring and his complete domineering of 90% of the bed space, stressing about Lee fucking Minho.
Option two: run out of the frat house, and all the way home to safety, but risk bumping into Minho on your way out.
Option three: run down the hall to Felix's room, where you can vent to him all night and then eventually fall asleep with his sunshine cuddles.
It could only be option three.
His room was just down the hall, you reasoned. You would yank open the door, tear down the hallway, and land safely in Felix's bedroom. It would be easy.
You took a deep breath, before pulling open the door and preparing to run.
“Ah. Look who it is.”
Shit.
Minho stood in the hall with an unreadable expression. His eyes scanned your whole frame, and he took his time with his scalding gaze. His eyes crawled all the way up your legs, lingering up your thighs. Slowly moving from your hips, to your waist, to your chest. Before landing on your eyes - that’s where his inspection burned the most. You couldn’t even breathe.
“All bark and no bite, hm?”
“I… I just…” you stammered weakly.
He continued to stare at you, waiting for you to finish. “You just?”
“I’m sorry!” you managed, your voice barely above a squeak.
He folded his arms across his chest, looking amused. “What, pray tell, are you sorry for? For blabbing about my dick to anyone who’ll listen? Manners mean everything, sweetheart, you could’ve just asked me nicely. There was no reason to bring everyone into our business, now, was there?”
You simply blinked at him. You weren’t capable of anything more. He was clearly waiting for a response, though, smirking over at you expectantly. “W-What?” you managed eventually.
“Or are you apologising for your dirty mouth? Honestly, I didn’t expect that from you. You look so sweet, who knew you could be so… improper.”
You felt dizzy. “Improper?”
He pouted at you, and it was dripping with condescension. “Can you speak, darling? Or are you so cock-hungry you can’t manage more than a one-word answer?”
“I-I just don’t know what to say, is all,” you whispered.
“Just give me a yes or a no,” he invited you, holding his hand out for you to take.
You gave him a slow nod, placing your hand in his shakily. He smiled as if to say ‘right answer,’ before opening the door right next to Jisung's, and leading you into his bedroom. The room was remarkably neat and tidy, and you would’ve been impressed if you could even begin to process it. All of your mental energy was focused on not combusting - or coming on the spot.
He allowed you to step into the room before closing the door behind you. You were then quickly pushed up against it, Minho pinning you against the wood with his hips. Had that squeal really just come from your mouth?
His eyes were transfixed on your lips. You waited, heart hammering in your chest, while he had you trapped there. Until this point, you really hadn't been sure whether he was angry at you for saying such explicit things about him. The look in his eyes revealed everything - he wanted you just as badly.
He leaned in slowly. Torturously slowly - evidently, he was going to take his time with you. His lips met yours in a gentle peck, which he repeated, again and again. You sighed against his lips, gripping the fabric of his t-shirt and pulling him closer, but he merely smirked against your pout.
"Please," you breathed.
"You're so desperate," he said with a low laugh. "I could give you what you want, Y/N, but I know you wouldn't be able to handle it."
"I can take it," you protested, your voice sounding much whinier than you wanted it to.
"You can?" he asked, cocking his head and looking down at you condescendingly. You nodded insistently. "Okay."
Minho picked up the pace. His lips were soft but they bit at yours harshly. His tongue entered your mouth and you savoured his taste, sucking on his tongue gently.
Your hands went to the button of his jeans, swiftly unbuttoning it. Minho pulled away, stepping back and leaving you pouting once more. He laughed, that awful patronising sound yet again, that made your palms sweat and your thighs sticky.
"What, you think you're gonna get my dick that easily?" he asked, cocking his head at you. "No, honey."
"Please?" you asked. It sounded pitiful, even to you.
You watched as he went to his neatly made bed, tugging off jeans and laying back. "Come here," he instructed, lounging back against the wall. "Take your clothes off for me."
"T-Take my clothes off?" you asked meekly. It sounded pitiful even to your ears.
The look he gave you was scathing, although he did seem rather amused by the pathetic show of stupid desperation you were unfortunately displaying. "Well you can't expect to stay fully clothed if I'm gonna fuck you, right?"
You nodded, standing in front of him and looking down at your feet. "I… I feel shy all of a sudden."
"You feel shy? I don't know if you'd make such a good sex slave after all." He laughed before growing serious. "We don't have to do this if you don't want to. I'll look after you, if we do, but the choice is yours."
His kinder tone set you at ease, and made you realise that you really wanted this, you were ready for this. It also brought about the realisation that you much preferred it when he was mean. You didn't want to dwell on what that meant, though.
You gathered your courage and slowly pulled your clothes off, standing before him in nothing but your underwear. Minho said nothing, but you felt as though you were on fire under his gaze.
He wasn't the only one who was enjoying the view. Your eyes traversed his toned thighs, mouth watering as you thought about how it'd feel if he were to press one between your legs. He wore plain white briefs, and you couldn't help but stare at the prominent bulge inside them. Even semi-hard it looked huge. You noticed it twitch ever so slightly, as he looked over your exposed body.
Minho spread his legs slightly, before tapping his left thigh. "Come on, darling. I know what you want."
Was he a mind reader? You wasted no time, climbing onto the bed, straddling his thigh and beginning to slowly grind. He tensed it, so firm and strong beneath you. The perfect platform for you to drag your clit across.
Minho's hands went to your waist, holding you gently, guiding you as you rolled your hips.
"That's it, baby, there you go," he encouraged you. The friction was enough to make you sweat, the pleasure overwhelming you. He was right - maybe you couldn't handle this. You couldn't even imagine how overwhelming it would be to actually feel his hands on you, feel his dick inside you.
His dick.
You could see it growing harder in his briefs, a small damp circle near the head where precum had leaked. You couldn't resist the temptation any longer; your hand reached out almost involuntarily, cupping his bulge gently. It was firm, and warm, and growing bigger seemingly by the second.
Minho took your hand, instantly re-directing it. "No, no, don't touch. Not until I say you can."
"But I can see how hard you're getting," you said. "You want it, Minho!"
"Unlike you, I know how to restrain myself." He patted your waist gently. "Keep riding."
You gave a frustrated huff, but did as he said.
Minho brought a slender finger down to your crotch, hooking it around the fabric of your underwear and moving it out of the way. "Let me see that pretty pussy," he murmured.
The new exposure made you moan aloud, hands gripping Minho's shoulders firmly as you rode him.
"Please," you whispered. "Please, Minho."
"Please, what? Use your words."
"Please fuck me," you asked.
He pretended to consider it for a moment. "Hmm… No. Not yet."
You groaned. "I need it, though!"
Minho snickered. "Don't be such a brat. I want to take my time with you, okay?"
"You can take your time next time! Just - please - fuck, please, I need it."
He raised an eyebrow with you. "Oh, so there's gonna be a next time, is there?"
You ignored his quip. If you couldn't get in his pants just yet, you'd focus your attention elsewhere. You lifted his shirt slowly, revealing his stomach, where you found lightly toned abs that only made you more desperate to feel him. Miraculously, he humoured you, pulling his shirt over his head.
You gasped, running your hands down his chest. He was beautiful, tight pecs and perfect little nipples that stood to attention in the open air of his bedroom. You ghosted a finger over one of them, entranced.
"I thought that'd shut you up," Minho commented under his breath.
"Beautiful tits," you muttered unintentionally as you admired his pecs.
Minho smiled. "I could say the same thing about you, angel." He placed a hand on your back, pulling you closer and bringing one of your nipples into his mouth. He wasn't gentle about it, sucking and biting without holding back. You cried out, your hips pausing their grinding motions, your system completely overloaded by his harsh actions on your sensitive nipple.
"Keep riding," he mumbled, not even taking your nipple out of his mouth as he spoke.
You dragged your clit across his muscular thigh, whimpering loudly as you went. "Oh god, please, Minho! I need you inside me."
"Then beg for it."
You wasted no time. "Please, Minho, please, please! I need your cock, I've never needed anything this bad. I know I'm just a filthy little slut but please give me what I need, fuck, I'll die if you don't!"
"You really are a filthy slut," he agreed, lifting you from his thigh and laying you on his bed.
"Yes, yes, please Minho!" you babbled.
He pulled your underwear down, leaving you completely naked before him, before tugging his own briefs off.
Holy fucking shit, you thought.
His dick was beautiful. That was the only way to describe it - fucking beautiful. It was long, with a vein running along the underside, and the girth was decent too. The head was thick, and red, and if you weren't so desperate to be fucked you would've sucked on it for hours.
"I know you want it," Minho said. "But do you deserve it?" He stroked his dick slowly, and you watched as the head disappeared into his fist, emerging again as his hand ran along his shaft.
"I don't know, but I need it," you insisted. "I'll do anything."
Minho shook his head, but he looked smug. "Alright, baby. If you need it that badly."
"Yes, yes, yes," you chattered, intoxicated by a dick that you hadn't even felt yet.
He pushed your knees up to your chest, and you hooked your arms around them, holding them in position and peering down to watch his motions. "Such a perfect pussy." He rubbed the head of his dick across your clit, and you whined loudly. Distantly, you wondered if the sounds of the frat party below would even be enough to drown out your incessant noises of pleasure. It was irrelevant, though; you didn't care enough to stop.
He dragged his dick through your folds, over your hole, back up to your clit. Minutes ago, you would've killed a man to have Minho touch your pussy, but already you wanted more. He made you so greedy. It felt good but your thirst for more was unbearable, intolerable.
"Alright, baby, are you ready?"
"Yes!" you cried out.
Slowly, he sunk the tip of his dick inside you - just the tip. Thick as it was, it slid in with hardly any protest. He sighed as it went in, clearly needing the sensation more than he let on.
"More," you pleaded.
"You'll take what I give you, when I'm ready to give you it." Minho saw you roll your eyes at this, but said nothing.
He pushed the head in and out of your hole, never putting more than two inches inside.
"Please give me the whole thing, Minho!"
He simply shook his head. "You wouldn't be able to handle it. Dumb baby."
"I can handle it!" you insisted. "I swear I can!"
He looked at you, raising an eyebrow that told you he was unconvinced. "You can?" You nodded. "You're gonna cry like a little baby."
"Just give me your stupid dick right now!"
Minho laughed, shaking his head. "Alright, baby. Here comes my stupid dick."
He held your legs down against your chest, and slammed his whole length inside you. You saw stars. He thrusted, hard and fast, and you were somewhat aware that you were moaning probably louder than you ever had before, but all you could truly focus on was his cock filling you up. He was hitting your g-spot on every single thrust, grunting as he fucked you.
"God, you're tight," he groaned. He re-positioned his hips, and somehow managed to hit deeper. You felt him against your cervix, and cried out in pain.
"Too much," you weakly protested as your eyes filled with tears.
"I thought you could handle it?" he said, his voice lacking any sympathy. "Fucking pathetic, begging for a cock you couldn't even take."
"I-I can, just not so deep."
Minho smirked down at you. "It's not my fault my dick's so big," he said, but adjusted his thrusts slightly anyway.
"I can take it," you promised. "I-I can take anything you give me, Minho."
"That's right, baby. My filthy little whore." His voice was calm, but his eyebrows were furrowed and sweat was dripping down his forehead - the pleasure was overwhelming him just as much as it was destroying you.
Minho leaned down, connecting his mouth to yours as he fucked you. You sighed happily, wrapping your arms around his neck and taking his tongue into your mouth. You couldn't help but moan. His dick fucking your pussy, his tongue fucking your mouth. This was heaven, you were sure of it.
He pulled away. "You think you could take some more?"
"More?" you asked, eyes wide.
"Just a little more. For me?"
You nodded hesitantly.
Minho paused his thrusts, but before you could whine in protest, you felt his finger rubbing at your opening. Slowly, he pushed his index finger inside, along with his dick. The painful stretch was incredible, and you whimpered at the feeling.
"There you go, babe," he said, beginning to thrust once more. He closed his eyes, losing himself to the sensation. "Fuck, this is nice and tight."
You were barely even lucid at this point. You babbled incoherently, unaware of what you were even trying to say. You were completely and utterly spellbound by his dick, by the sweet burning stretch.
"Touch yourself for me, baby," Minho directed you.
"F-Fuck- I don't know if I can-"
"I thought you wanted to be my sex slave, hm? Pretty little slaves do as they're told."
You whined, but obeyed his command. "M-Minho… I'm gonna cum if I keep going."
Minho barked out a laugh. "Cum then. I don't care. But don't take your fingers off that pussy, not even for a second."
You were beginning to think that maybe you weren't cut out for this. You hadn't even reached your climax yet, and already the overstimulation was too much. Your stretched out pussy was throbbing, and you jolted each time Minho's dick pounded your g-spot. You were drenched, covered in your own sweat as well as Minho's, which was dripping onto you from his hair, his forehead, his neck. The air in the room was thick, and smelled entirely of Minho - you were covered in him. He looked like a god above you, fucking into you like it was his life's mission.
It was too much for you to handle, without a doubt. And yet, you'd be happy to spend the rest of your life underneath him. Or on top of him. Or in any position which meant his dick could be inside you.
"Minho… Minho!" you whimpered.
"C'mon, baby," he encouraged you, his voice strained. From the sounds of it, he wasn't far from finishing either - although you got the sense he could keep going all night if he willed himself to. "Cum around my cock like the dirty little whore you are."
That was all the prompting you needed.
Your ears started ringing. You let the almost unbearable feeling of ecstasy wash over you, flooding Minho’s cock. You knew you were crying out maybe a bit too loudly - but you didn’t care, thrashing in Minho’s hold and grasping the bedsheets for dear life as he fucked you through it. He didn’t slow his pace, riding out your intense orgasm caused by the man of your dreams and making you feel as if you’d been set on fire.
"Does that feel good, baby?" Minho crooned, continuing to fuck you as he went after his own orgasm. You could only manage a high-pitched whine in response. "Just a little longer, baby, you can do it. Just lie there and let me use your tight little pussy, that's it." His voice was hoarse, and the veins on his neck were prominent. You knew he was going to cum soon, but you didn't know if you could hold on. You were over-sensitive to the point of pain, hands gripping Minho's bed sheets.
"Cum - give me your cum," you urged Minho. "Now, please."
His eyes widened. Your command had seemed to catch him off guard a bit. He pulled out of you, and you watched as thick ribbons of pearly white cum oozed onto your abdomen. You gasped gently as you watched. It was perhaps the most beautifully erotic thing you'd ever seen. His dick was definitely a contender for the prettiest one you'd ever fucked, and his cum was thick and heavy, dripping from the tip like a waterfall.
"Thank you," you whispered. He leaned in, kissing you deeply. He tasted like sweat, hot and sticky, and you moaned.
He pulled away, before planting one more kiss on your forehead. "You're welcome."
Minho stood, going to the other side of his room. You tried to follow him with your eyes, but you felt so weak and tired that they slipped shut immediately. He returned seconds later, and you lay still, sighing as he cleaned you up. His touch was so gentle, so soothing, so different than it had been just minutes before.
"That better?" he asked, discarding the towel.
You nodded. "You want me to go crash with Felix?" you asked, unsure of what exactly this arrangement was.
"Nah, you reek of sex. Felix wouldn't want you." He helped you climb under the covers. "Plus, I wouldn't mind some company tonight." He slid into bed beside you, and you rolled over, laying your head on his chest. He wrapped his arms around you, and you felt incredibly safe secure, especially considering just how utterly terrified you'd been of this man a few hours ago.
You giggled softly, so tired and fucked out that you felt a little delirious. "Can't believe you fucked me, Minho."
Minho gave a short laugh. "Can't believe you convinced me to fuck you so easily. You're a little minx. I really wanted to play with you some more."
You nestled into his chest. "I guess there'll have to be a next time then, huh?"
"Yeah," he agreed. "If you're lucky."
"You wanna fuck me again, Minho, I know you do," you mumbled. "I saw the look in your eyes when you came. You need my pussy."
Minho was silent for a few seconds. "You're awfully bold for someone who was crying on my cock ten minutes ago."
"...Yeah."
"Get some sleep, sweetheart." No more than ten seconds later, you were sleeping in his arms.
You slipped into the land of dreams, where you went on to fantasise about Minho - his thighs, his neck, his tummy, his hands. His kisses, his touches, his dick in your throat, in your holes. Minho everywhere. Were you completely insatiable? Maybe. But it seemed very likely that he'd give it to you again. In your sleep, you smiled.
˚ʚ♡ɞ˚
taglist: @moasworld @hopefulrascalstatesmantoad @queenofthegardengnomes @boomfrogg @hoeinthehouse @msaddictions @sunnyhonie @hizliyuruyen @jyu037 @jouoy @drhsthl @seungincore @jellylver @veedoesntknaur @meloncremesoda @k-poplv @livieloo914 @fekixfmp @fawnpeaks @minnielvr @imastraykidsfan @hanjisung2023 @hoelynecujoh @kyrviu @sxgeofprohets @everydreams-penumbra @chaneomma @kkissreol @secretjj @phtogravi @princelingperfect @personawthai @dirah-h @straykids5star @luvhyux @chuuswifereal @stg110 @cookiesandmilfx @number1seungminstan
#lee know#stray kids#lee minho#lee know x reader#minho x reader#skz minho#skz x reader#stray kids x reader#skz smut#minho smut#stray kids smut#stray kids frat au#stray kids fic#stray kids fanfiction#minho fic#lee know fic#billy's fics ☆#hot bitch summer: makes me dizzy
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
𐙚˙✧˖°📷 ༘ ⋆｡ ˚ nudes noods nudes
college!rafe cameron x innocent!reader
𐙚˙✧˖°📷 ༘ ⋆｡ ˚
“You trust me right?” Rafe’s voice softened eager to please you. “You looked really pretty today baby I miss you” You smiled to yourself perhaps one wouldn't hurt? He'd been so lovely to you after all. “Mhhm thank you Rafe.” you sat up in bed peeling off your tank top and freeing your breasts. “Maybe just one okay?” you shifted onto your knees making sure you were at a flattering level. “Whatever you're comfortable with mami” Rafe replied thanking whatever god was above him.
Opening up your camera you lightly played with your nipples. Before turning your phone into a place that gave a glimpse of your ass. “Not sure if I did it right Rafe.” You looked back at the photo unsure if he'd find this sexy. “I'm sure it's perfect send it alright?” his voice was smooth, almost delicate.
1 attachment was sent to rafe :)) 🧸
“Fuck baby so sexy” Rafe groaned palming himself in his sweatpants. “Oh thank you! that's nice” you giggled rubbing your thighs together his words left your panties damp. unable to keep the next words out of your mouth inside you questioned.
“Can I see you Rafe?”
#rafe cameron drabble#rafe cameron x reader#rafe cameron au#rafe cameron x y/n#rafe cameron x you#rafe cameron blurb#rafe cameron imagine#frat!rafe cameron#college!rafe cameron#rafe cameron x female reader#rafe cameron obx
735 notes
·
View notes
Text
seven minutes in hell
𖤐 . pairing - fratboy!Luke Castellan x fem!reader
𖤐 . summary - a stupid game of spin the bottle/seven minutes in heaven gone… wrong?
𖤐 . content includes - smut MDNI🔞, bad interpretations of frat parties/boys
𖤐 . word count - 1014
𖤐 . taglist - @perseus-jackass @niktwazny303 @st4rzl7
𖤐 . a/n - i randomly got this idea and was very motivated idk why. anyways, hope you enjoy !!
“you are so. mph~ infuriating,” you struggled out.
he chuckled, speeding up his erratic movements, forcefully slamming your body into the wall with each thrust.
“yeah, keep saying that like my dick- fuuck~ like my fuckin’ dick isn’t in ya’ right now,” Luke teased, slowing his movements to add to the annoyance, protruding a half whimper-groan from you.
he scoffed, a dumb smirk on his face as his hips resumed their work, thrusting his fat cock into you even faster — desperate to finish you both off before the timer finished.
his sudden pounding forced a choked moan from you, panic flooding your eyes. Luke’s smirk widened, he motioned to one of your hands with his head.
you took the sign, gratefully covering your mouth the second his calloused fingertips met your clit, which erupted yet another squeak from you.
he practically had you bent in half against the closet wall, the tight space not leaving much room for the two of you.
you were at some stupid frat party — which you did not want to go to. your friend Silena insisted you needed some time out, and just about dragged you to said party.
with a few drinks in, you were grumbling as she dragged you to a cliché game of seven minutes in heaven, consisting of a circle of other students all drunk or high or both.
despite your tipsy state, you recognized a few people;
Charles Beckendorf — aka Silena’s never-ending crush that is too sweet for his own good.
Clarisse La Rue — aka the girl that typically wouldn’t be caught dead anywhere near a frat house, yet here she was.
Chris Rodriguez — aka the lame douchebag with hopeful heart eyes towards our dear Clarisse, and who also happens to be best friends with the boy that’s pounding your pussy into oblivion.
of course, the second it’s your turn to spin the bottle, it lands on probably the worst person in the group — Luke Castellan.
thank the Gods that the blaring lights of the party hid the blush on your cheeks, with a little help from the annoyed groan that left your mouth.
Silena giggled into her red solo cup, pushing you to stand up next to Luke, who was already standing, a smirk on his stupid face.
and that’s how you got here — folded in half against the closet wall, knees by your face and calves hanging over his shoulders, desperately screaming into your hand as Luke drilled his cock into you.
the fact that you got in this position during a seven minute game should’ve been on your mind, but the feeling of his cock head poking around your cunt had your eyes rolling back, head empty.
you wrapped your other arm around his neck, bringing him closer to you. uncovering your mouth and wrapping your other arm around him, your lips were close — but not touching.
you moaned into his mouth, feeling his warm breath as he pounded you, his own groans only fueling your arousal.
your eye trailed up, left hand coming up to knock away his stupid backwards cap, fingers immediately running through his curls, pulling and scratching at them.
he almost whimpered, lips trailing around your collarbone, moving up with kisses and leaving marks in his path.
“w-why do you we-ar that stupid c-cap?” you stuttered out, moaning breathlessly as his lips ceased their attack.
he chuckled again at you, hips stuttering and eyes fluttering. “will you shut up? m’ trying to fuck you.”
you moaned out, head falling back against the wall, his cock and fingers together draw you closer to the edge.
warmth spills and spreads through your bodies, feeling the effect of both your orgasms hitting at the same time.
you forced Luke’s head to yours, shoving your lips on his as you moaned in each other's mouths, sloppy and wet kisses following his slowing thrusts.
Luke carefully let you down, a hand on your waist to keep you up right. he hastily pulled up his jeans, putting himself away as he helped you redress.
you kept your arms around his neck as he pulled your panties up, fixing your dress and your hair.
face flushed, you watch as he bent down to get his cap, instead placing it backwards on your head, laughing at your annoyance.
moving to take it off, he gently grabbed your wrist.
“keep it.”
you raised your eyebrows but listened, lowering your hand. you went to speak again but were interrupted by a knock at the closet door.
in frantic movements, Luke had you shoved against the wall, breathing heavily as his head was turned towards the door, his tall frame blocking you from being seen if it were to open.
“seven minutes are up!” shouted Chris through the door, rustling could be heard from the other side as he moved away the chair that locked it. “you guys can come out now!”
Luke turned towards you, using his finger tips to tilt your chin up. with his fingers still touching you, he slightly bent down to capture your lips again in a searing kiss.
when he pulled away you were left almost breathless as he took your hand, opening the door and leading the two of you out.
whistling was heard from the game circle as you guys exited the smaller space. instead of going back to your spot next to Silena, Luke pulled your sore body down with him, sitting you right on his lap.
you made eye contact with Silena, who raised her eyebrows with a knowing smirk on her face.
everyone in the group knew what you had done in the closet, the stumbling of your walk, flushed face, and Luke’s stupid cap on your head hinted at it.
also the fact that you were sitting on his lap, head on his shoulder with his arms around your middle and his hickeys littered on your neck.
no one said anything though, they all just smirked into their own cups, continuing to play the game.
you still hated frat parties though. just maybe not this one.
© sovksluv 2024, please do not repost or translate my work!
#𖤐 . rue talks#𖤐 . rue’s world#pjo series#pjo show#percy jackon and the olympians#percy jackson#pjo fandom#pjo spoilers#pjo tv show#pjo disney+#luke castellan smut#luke castellan au#luke castellan imagine#luke castellan pjo#luke castellan story#luke pjo#pjo luke#luke castellan fluff#luke castellan x reader#luke castellan#charlie bushnell writer#charlie bushnell stories#charlie bushnell story#charlie bushnell x you#charlie bushnell x reader#charlie bushnell imagine#charlie bushnell fluff#frat luke#frat luke castellan#frat boy luke
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
fratboy!luke who..
- looks like he doesn’t wanna be at any of the functions but he still def parties his ass off
- definitely did those pledgetok tiktoks
- sighs whenever his frat bro does something dumb like a very loud face palm
- when he fucks up he texts u “i sincerely apologize to my beautiful sexy girlfriend, pls forgive me”
- when you don’t pull up to any of his frat’s events he’s asking the president if he really has to go
- “do i really tho josh? it’s just one event. my girlfriend wont even be there!”
- shrugs off any sorority girl who tries to flirt with him
- “uh i have a girlfriend.”
- when he’s drunk, he’s probably showing the girls who are trying to get w him pictures from his photo album labeled “my pretty gf” and that backs them right off
- everytime he’s hungover, he goes to the McDonald’s near his uni and eat 10 hash browns and 1 McMuffin 😭
- how did he meet you… funny story actually 😓
- luke did those tiktoks where they’d knock on random people’s dorm doors and throw a football and catch it and be like “u ladies alright?”
- well funny story actually: luke’s friend, luca, actually threw the football at luke’s stomach when you opened your door and he tumbled back and fell onto you
- so i guess you can say he fell for you? HHAHA get it… okay.
- luca never lets luke live that down because he’s like “nah uh you cant be mad at me cause im the one who helped you get a girlfriend in the first place.”
#guys im not actually good w this frat stuff so apologizes if i get things wrong 😔#basing off what ik cause one of my guy friends is apart do a frat#anyway start of a new au ??? YES#frat!luke au#luke hughes#luke hughes x you#luke hughes x reader#luke hughes x y/n#luke hughes angst#luke hughes fluff#luke hughes blurb#luke hughes fic#luke hughes smut#luke hughes imagines#luke hughes imagine#luke hughes fanfic
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
⋆⭒˚.⋆ marrying ice cream ⋆⭒˚.⋆
(cw: f!reader, TikTok trend)
-
"Why are you recording this? We're just eating," fratboy!Jaehyun questioned with pure confusion.
You sighed, placing your phone on the dashboard. You started recording, "I told you, people really like mukbangs. Are you ready?"
"You're already recording, did you do that on purpose? Can we eat, already? My food is getting cold."
You sat back, looking at him with a tired look, "It's ice cream, it's supposed to be cold. Since when do you ask so many questions? Are you ready?"
"Yes, fine."
You sat back and smiled at the camera, you showed your box of food, "So today, we're doing a mukbang for you guys. I got birthday cake ice cream with rainbow sprinkles in a waffle cone. Now my husband is going to tell you what he got."
You stared at Jaehyun's face on your screen while trying to suppress your smile. Jaehyun's whole face went red immediately, his mouth opening and closing while his eyes were locked on you on the screen.
"I said my husband is going to tell you what he got. Baby, come on your ice cream is melting," you told him encouragingly.
"I got ice cream."
"Yes, you did. What flavor did you get, baby?"
He stuttered, "it's brown."
"Yes, it is," you cooed as if you were talking to a child.
Jaehyun looked at you, "and I really, really love it. And I want to marry it some day for real."
It was your turn to go silent and stutter. "I want that too, for real."
"Right now? I'll drive us, just don't spill any ice cream on my seats. And hold mine!"
You placed your hand gently on his arm, "Let's finish our ice cream first and focus on finishing school."
He rolled his eyes dramatically, "Fine."
#kpop imagines#kpop au#kpop scenarios#kpop reactions#nct#nct imagines#nct fluff#nct timestamps#nct x reader#jaehyun imagines#jaehyun fluff#jaehyun x reader#Jaehyun blurbs#fratboy!jaehyun#frat!jaehyun#frat!nct
459 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
xaelcrush
BearCentral
trashikin
Just Straight Up Slurpin' Gutter Juice
xaelcrush
BearCentral
atemporalidadesafectivas
Cuerpo, frontera, afectividad
