#i just started writing this out one time for shits and giggles
Text
the way i see you ; remus lupin x reader
➻ synopsis: you're an artist, but you never let any of your friends see your work. they finally attend one of your exhibits and see your feelings on paper
➻ word count: 4346
➻ content: swearing, allusions to sex, gryffindor reader but literally mentioned once, no pronouns but implied to be fem reader, kissing, no war AU!!
➻ the remus brainrot is strong rn
════ ⋆★⋆ ════
You were an artist, you had been the whole time the boys knew you. Even in first year as a shy eleven year old, you were always scribbling away in a little sketchbook that lived in the big pockets of your robes. The hobby only developed as you got older, expanding mediums and filling countless sketchbooks. When you weren’t studying (or even when you were supposed to be) it was almost a given that you’d be working on a piece somewhere, far from the prying eyes of others.
Your friends caught glances of your art sometimes, doodles on the corner of your essays or notes, maybe a stray page left out in your dorm which told them you were good, but you never ever willingly let them see it. They didn’t know why, truthfully, you didn’t know either, but it had always been that way and everyone had more or less accepted that.
“Have you ever drawn me?” Sirius asked one afternoon as you all sat out by the Black Lake, cocky grin on his face.
“’Course,” You answered simply, moving to turn back to your conversation with Remus.
“Wait, really?”
“Well you have to have drawn me then, right? Can’t just be Padfoot!” James cut in quickly, making you laugh, nodding.
“Before everyone starts asking, lets just establish that I’ve drawn all of you at some point, okay?” You thought that would calm them down, but it only riled them up further, much to your chagrin.
“And you haven’t shown us?” Marlene cried dramatically.
“I deserve to see you capture my beauty!” Sirius collapsed in an exaggerated performance and you couldn’t decide whether you were amused or embarrassed, giggling and hiding your face in Remus’ shoulder. He merely pat you on the shoulder, shooting you a fond gaze you couldn’t see. James caught it though, and smirked in a way that Remus knew he was about to be embarrassed.
“Have you drawn Moony?” He asked, and you both looked at him suddenly.
“Padfoot, don’t,” Remus said sternly, then turning to you, “It’s okay, you don’t have to answer… I know they must ruin the picture.” He gestured down to his scars. You just looked at him for a moment, utterly baffled.
“As if some silly scars would stop me from drawing you,” You said, a sweet smile on your lips, “You’re my biggest inspiration, Moony.” He blushed at that but the rest of your friends tactfully ignored it, though the boys shot him some shit-eating looks.
It was probably true that you drew Remus the most, but it was only because you spent the most time with him! Or, that’s what you told yourself anyway. Remus Lupin was your best friend in the world, and you loved him more than anything. Since you were always together and hanging out, clearly you’d draw him more, it was perfectly natural!
Your study sessions together in the library often devolved quickly, essays abandoned to the side, both of you falling into chatter as you studied and sketched him.
“What’re you drawing, dove?” He’d always ask, knowing you’d never tell. You’d simply press your lips into a cheeky smile, shaking your head resolutely.
“Uh-uh,” You’d say, “An artist never reveals her secrets.”
“I’m pretty sure that’s magicians, stupid,” He laughed, running a hand through his curls.
“Oh,” You frowned, “Well I’m that too, aren’t I?”
“Hardly,” He snorted, “Your essays are more doodles than writing.”
“Hey, Slughorn gave me a whole extra mark for the portrait I drew last week, so none of that.”
Or you’d follow him out of the pub you were all in when Remus needed a smoke, sitting on the blacked out window ledge as he lit up. You thought he might have been the most beautiful person in the world when he smoked, the way the lighter brought out the gold flecks in his eyes and hair and the shadows of night emphasised his unreal bone structure. You’d probably drawn him in that exact scenario hundreds of times, but it wasn’t your fault he looked like a fallen angel. When he leaned over to give you a puff you took it gratefully, if only for the proximity. You weren’t much of a smoker, but for Remus you’d let your lungs rot.
It was moments like that where you’d wonder what it would be like to kiss him, lean past the cigarette and put your mouth on his. Sometimes you thought he wanted it too, the way he’d get slightly too close for best friends, his own hand being the one to stick the dart into your mouth, sometimes so close your lips brushed his fingers. Moments like that made you wonder if he loved you back. Then later, when everyone was drunker, you’d see him stick his tongue down some prettier girl’s throat and you’d remember your place as his best friend. If it stung you tried not to show it, letting some sleazy guy a few years older than you buy you drinks until Peter told you it was time to leave.
Still, you were mostly alright with just being friends with Remus. You still got most of the benefits; his conversation, his dry humour, the ability to look at his gorgeous face. Who needed everything else? Plus, you could draw him whenever you wanted, doing whatever you wanted — not in a weird way. Mostly. You still would never admit that you’d drawn him holding your hand, or kissing you, or other things you desired… The magic of art, right?
After years of bugging, you finally submitted to your friends constant nagging. The day that you officially graduated Hogwarts was an emotional one. Seven years of constant laughter and magic (both literal and the sentimental kind) were over, and the world seemed too large and intimidating compared to the familiar walls of your school. Yet there was no stopping it, and you were all Hogwarts graduates.
While all your parents cried and reminisced over coffee in the Great Hall, your friends had gone for one last deep conversation by the Black Lake. Discussions of the future were unavoidable, but were mostly positive. Talks of trips you’d take, apartments you’d live in and hell you’d raise. When you all quietened down slightly, struck by it being the last time you’d sit in front of the lake, you cleared your throat.
“Um, I have something for you guys, a graduation gift.” From your purse you pulled the envelopes, all filled with fancy cardstock from the art shop near your family home. You’d drawn a simple grey-lead portrait of each of your friends, framed with a little message of congratulations. You watched anxiously as they each opened the envelopes, nervous all the hype would make the art seem inconsequential. Your fear couldn’t be farther from the truth.
Sirius gasped dramatically as he saw what it was, but a genuine smile followed straight after. James burst straight into tears, hardly getting the picture all the way out. You could tell Lily was trying not to follow, but seeing her boyfriend cry set off the waterworks for her. Marlene and Mary were inspecting the others, pointing out the little details you’d put in, like Mary’s favourite daisy earrings or the slit Marlene had impulsively shaved into her eyebrow only a few weeks before. Peter was bright pink, flattered to the highest degree. Remus was hard to read, simply staring at you with the strangest look in his eye. You couldn’t ask him about it though, being ambushed with hugs from every direction.
“I can’t believe you’ve been hiding all this talent from us,” Peter said, the rest agreeing.
“Didn’t know we had our very own Da Vinci hiding behind a Gryffindor tie,” Marlene added, making you blush and grin.
You dreaded to imagine what it would look like from an outsider’s perspective, the eight of you teary, sweaty messes all piled on top of each other. Well, seven of you.
“Come on, Moony,” James called in a sing-song voice, “If you can’t submit to a hug at our graduation I am going to give you the biggest, slobberiest kiss and you won’t be able to do a thing about it.” Remus snorted, rolling his eyes.
“You look like absolute wankers,” Was all he said, but joined the pile nonetheless, and you were extra glad he was mainly holding on to you. When you all finally pulled away it was minutes later, but the whole thing was strangely cathartic.
“We all have to promise that we’ll always be friends, no matter what,” Mary said, putting her pinky finger out. The rest of you agreed, sticking your pinkies in for a very convoluted eight way promise. With that sorted your friends started heading back up the hill to the school building, ready to leave Hogwarts forever and prepare for a long night of heavy drinking. Remus held you back. James sent you a suggestive glance when he noticed but left it that, drawing Lily in for a bittersweet kiss.
You turned to Remus, only for his eyes to be locked on the portrait. You’d spent so much time trying to get it perfect for him, practising the stupid knot he insisted on tying every day despite the rest of the school going with a less convoluted method of wearing their ties.
“Do you like it?” You asked, subconsciously twisting your ring around your pointer finger. Remus let out a half laugh.
“I love it, honest. It’s insane, really. That you can make this just like that. It’s just…” You searched his eyes for the rest of the sentence. “You make me look…” He didn’t finish but you knew immediately what he meant. Remus hated looking at himself, training his eyes down in the bathroom and opting to always be the photographer so he didn’t have to see himself in the final product. You knew of course it was because of his scars, but you genuinely couldn’t believe he thought they were ugly, much less made him ugly.
“I wish you could see yourself the way I see you, just once,” You sighed, grabbing his free hand and interlocking your fingers, leading him back to where the others were waiting.
Four years out of Hogwarts and you’d all kept your promise. Of course you didn’t see each other quite as much as the boarding school schedule allowed, but the boys all had an apartment together which brought you together often enough — except James and Lily who were married and had moved down to Godric’s Hollow to raise baby Harry. That similarly brought you all to meet often, all determined to spoil Harry as his aunts and uncles.
You weren’t a full-time artist professionally, though you still did it just as much. You’d evolved to paints by then; living with a muggle because the rent was cheap had the added bonus of not having to worry about leaving your paintings on the easel since you didn’t really care what they thought about your art anyway.
Your friends were all huddled in the boys’ apartment living room, every seat taken as you all caught up. You were on the couch with Remus, absentmindedly running your hands through his hair as his head rested on your lap. You still weren’t dating, but Lily always said you might as well have been. You laughed her off every time — if he hadn’t said anything by now how could he feel the same way? You tried to pretend it didn’t still sting.
You’d tried dating, Remus too. He’d had countless partners since you’d finished school — even more one night stands. Nothing lasted more than a few months. You’d done slightly better, you made it about a year with some bloke that Remus hated before he revealed himself as a colossal dickhead, and you’d been mostly single since.
The group was trying to organise their next meeting.
“What about the movies next Friday? I wanna see that new muggle film, Knife Runner,” James suggested and you and Remus both snorted.
“Blade Runner, love,” Lily corrected with a giggle and James burst out laughing, making a quick joke at his own expense. You’d dug your planner out of your purse to check your availability and frowned, closing the book quickly.
“I can’t do next Friday, sorry, how about Saturday?”
“And what plans have you got on a Friday night, you minx?” Mary asked with wiggling eyebrows. Even Remus looked interested, which made your heart stutter.
“Just a work thing,” You answered quickly, not wanting to reveal the real reason.
“You lie like a rug!” Marlene yelled, sitting up from her spot on the floor. You winced, you shouldn’t have made an excuse that she could so easily disprove, being in the same department of the ministry. “What plans are you too embarrassed to tell us about, slag?” You laughed shortly, their assumptions were so completely off.
“It’s not what you think—”
“Not what you think my arse, who’s ‘Davis Show’ and why is he surrounded by hearts, you absolute tart!” Sirius cried, displaying the planner for everyone to see. You couldn’t help but burst out laughing, wheezing as you looked at your friends’ faux-scandalised expressions.
“Look you twats, Davis Show isn’t a man. I’ve been invited to put my art in a show at the Davis Gallery down on Welking Road next week. I can assure you I’m not shagging a man named Davis.”
The whiplash was immediate, the gossip sniffing exchanged for celebrations, you couldn’t tell whose yelling was whose. Peter immediately ran to the kitchen for a bottle of champagne, passing glasses around the room. When the initial excitement wore down you were subjected to a million questions, and tried to answer each of them patiently.
“I can’t believe you weren’t gonna tell us,” Mary pouted and you sighed.
“You know how I get about my art,” You explained, “It’s not that I don’t love you all, obviously, it just makes me so nervous thinking about you guys all seeing my stuff.”
“You know we’re all coming now, right?” James said, wiping his glasses where the champagne bubbles had created smudges.
“You really don’t have to,” You put in quickly, “It’s so embarrassing.”
“Why won’t you let us appreciate you?” Marlene whined.
“It’s just, my art is like an extension of my soul. I don’t think I’d be able to recover if you didn’t think it was good.” Your friends grew rowdy at that, offended you’d even think they wouldn’t adore your art no matter what. You felt Remus put a hand on your thigh and gave him a weak smile, knowing he’d shut down the conversation if you wanted him to. You didn’t want to make a big deal out of nothing though, especially when everyone was being so supportive. You figured everyone was so busy they’d forget it by the next week anyway.
Friday came, and you were a wreck of nerves. Although you’d sold pieces here and there throughout the years, this show would be the first time your art would be displayed as a collective, and you were terrified of rejection.
You’d figured your friends weren’t actually coming since none of them had really mentioned anything since. Apart from Lily, of course, who’d sent an owl to your desk that morning with a sweet good luck note and your favourite chocolate.
Even Remus hadn’t said anything when you went for coffee on your lunch break. That did puzzle you, you knew he would never go if he thought it would make you uncomfortable, but it wasn’t like him as your best friend to forget something so monumental in your life. You thought he was acting kind of weird though, more affectionate than he usually was. He kept looking at you longer than he should, and you wondered if you’d miscounted how far away the next full moon was. When you asked him about it he just brushed it off, looking down at his tea instead like he’d been caught.
“I love you,” He said and you laughed.
“I love you too, Lupin!” You cooed, patting him softly on the hand.
“You’re amazing, you know?” You arched a brow.
“What are you trying to make up for?” You asked suspiciously, giving him a once over to search for answers.
“Nothing, promise,” He smiled in a way that made your knees a little weak, “I just wanted to make sure you knew.”
“You’re gonna give me an ego,” You grumbled, packing up your things to get back to work. As you parted ways he pressed a kiss down to your cheek and you stumbled. Remus was never this affectionate as a person — a pat on the back, a hug if you needed one, yes, but he was never one for casual platonic kisses. You figured it must have been his way to apologise for not coming to the art show? But he knew you didn’t mind, so what was he apologising for? You tried to shake it off and get back to work, but you couldn’t get your closeness out of your head.
Evening fell and you were setting up your stall before the other patrons came in. Rearranging the paintings until you were pretty much perfectly happy, you looked around, still not fully believing you were really here. People were filtering in, well dressed and chattering softly as young waiters handed out flutes of champagne. You straightened out your silky black skirt in an effort to look more presentable, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.
At first things were slow, and you almost regretted not inviting your friends, if only so they could make your area look more interesting. And once you let that thought in, you kind of regretted not inviting them anyway. After all, they were the dearest people in your life and this was such a meaningful event to you.
You couldn’t think about that for long though since people had begun to filter over to you, making polite small talk as they admired your paintings. You tried to be energetic, smiling widely if you ever locked eyes with someone. However, deep down, you just wanted your friends.
A little old woman approached you for a while, wanting to know the meaning behind basically every painting and you told her happily, sharing the memories that inspired each work.
“Seems like you’ve got some true friends,” She said, “I hope you keep them close.” You agreed, thanking her profusely as she bought a landscape of the Whomping Willow.
It was growing closer and closer to closing, and honestly, it had been a wonderful night. Seeing the way that people reacted and interacted with your art was a magical experience, and changed the way you thought about it entirely. You decided that if you ever got the opportunity again, you’d want to share it with everyone else.
You were just moving to start packing up when you heard a myriad of gasps.
“What the fuck, dude?” The unmistakeable voice of Marlene McKinnon said from behind you. You whipped around to meet them, breaking into a cheek splitting smile.
“What are you guys doing here?” You asked, rushing over to scoop them all up into a hug.
“Fuck that, why didn’t you tell us that we’re your exhibition?” Sirius cried, running up to examine the paintings more clearly.
“And that they’re literally professional?” Peter added, eyes wide in wonder. You flushed red under their praise. If your friends thought your pencil portraits were good, they were nothing compared to your paintings.
Plus, every one of them was of your friends, or something sentimental to you all. Landscapes of Hogwarts, portraits of your friends, captured memories of long summer days, or life sketches from when you were all together. You watched them observe the paintings with nervous excitement, loving as they gave specific, personal compliments that only people who truly knew you could give.
“This our apartment,” Sirius said, pointing to one of your biggest pieces, “That’s our couch, the pillow Prongs has permanently ruined with butterbeer, that’s Moony!”
“There are a lot of paintings of Moony, aren’t there?” James whispered to you, wiggling his eyebrows. You flushed again. Sirius continued on, seeming (or pretending) not to have heard.
“We have to have this in the flat. Right boys?” Your eyes widened.
“Really?”
“For sure,” Peter said, “I’m buying this one too.” He gestured to one of him and James playing chess in the Gryffindor common room.
“And this is taking pride of place at home.” James pointed to a portrait of his and Lily’s wedding, and Lily similarly chose one of her and baby Harry. Marlene took one of her and Mary on the beach and Mary took one of the group at a house party. Half your paintings ended up being sold by the end of the night, and you couldn’t feel luckier. The only one who hadn’t said anything was Remus, who couldn’t keep his eyes off the paintings.
You shooed your friends out of the gallery once it really was closing time, and got to work packing away your things. You were deep in thought, reflecting on the wild day when someone cleared their throat behind you. It was Remus, and he moved to help you put your things away, stacking the paintings between bubble wrap to protect them.
“These are really beautiful,” He said, “I mean, we knew you were talented but… these are seriously on another level.”
“Thanks, Remus.” You smiled, unable to make eye contact as you watched him handle all the paintings you’d done of him. Portraits like the others, but also studies of his hands — god you were obsessed with his hands — his profile, and one less than innocent picture of his back, scars resting over muscles. You probably shouldn’t have put that one out, but to be fair you didn’t know he’d see it.
There was a somewhat awkward silence between the two of you. Not uncomfortable, per se, but there were definitely things you both wanted to say that neither knew how to.
“Let me drive you home,” Remus settled on and you nodded, letting him help you load your work into the boot of his car. You sat in the passenger seat, absentmindedly tapping your fingers on the dashboard to whatever radio station Remus had turned on. Remus stared straight ahead, knuckles pulled tight around the steering wheel.
“I’m really proud of you, you know. This whole show was incredible.” You went to thank him again but he kept talking. “I just wanted to know, um, there were a lot of paintings of me. I was just wondering why, why me?” You hesitated, unsure of what was going to come out of your mouth.
“I wish you could see yourself the way I see you,” You decided on with a bit of a sigh.
“You’ve said that before, what does that mean?” Your breath hitched. You definitely didn’t intend for it all to come out tonight, but if you didn’t say it now you doubted you ever would.
“You are the most beautiful person I know, Remus. I mean, even aside from your personality — which we know I have to be at least somewhat a fan of after all these years — you’re totally fit. Your eyes, your hair, God, your fucking bone structure, you’re literally a walking renaissance painting. And I know you think your scars make you ugly, but you don’t know how turned on I get thinking about how they’d feel on my skin.” Shit, you probably should’ve stopped talking.
You hadn’t realised he’d parked while you were rambling, but now you were sitting outside his apartment and he was looking at you with eyes that looked more like the wolf than him.
“I turn you on?” He whispered, voice suddenly gravelly as he leaned closer in to you.
“More than anything,” You breathed, brain buffering at the feeling of his breath on your face. Suddenly his mouth was on yours, hot and electric and not at all gentle. It felt like years of pent up frustration being let out all at once, and if he was anything like you, it probably was.
“Up,” He mumbled between kisses and you heard him undoing his seatbelt, hurrying to do the same. You barely disconnected to get out of the car, attaching yourself to his arm as he led the way up to the boys’ flat.
You made it up the three flights of stairs, not without Remus pushing you up against the stairwell wall to stick his tongue in your mouth, and stumbled straight into his bedroom, shedding layers as soon as the door was safely shut.
The next morning you awoke first, initially convinced you were dreaming when you saw him lying peacefully beside you. Eventually you rolled onto your side, ready to get out of bed for a glass of water when his nightstand caught your eye. There, in pride of place, was your graduation portrait of him, with a polaroid of the two of you stuck to the corner. Maybe he really had liked you as long as you’d liked him.
#giasfics˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ❀#fluff#love#marauders#the marauders#marauders era#the marauders era#remus lupin#remus john lupin#remus lupin x reader#remus lupin x you#remus lupin imagine#remus lupin x y/n#dead gay wizards#dead gay witches#james potter#sirius black#peter pettigrew#remus lupin fanfiction#remus x reader#remus lupin fluff#marauders imagine#marauders fanfiction#marauders fic#marauders fluff#marauders fandom#remus lupin fic#remus lupin oneshot
198 notes
·
View notes
Note
Hi! May I request a sequel to "my little love" for how jake responds to max calling him dad/daddy for the first time? or jake being cute with max and your shared kids (bc i KNOW y'all don't stop after the first one lol)
i'm sorry it took me so long to respond to this but HELL YEAH
and i'm extra sorry i didn't post this for a while b/c i wasn't sure about how it turned out in general...anyways, i hope you enjoy : ')
my future || jake "hangman" seresin
summary: as written above! this is a sequel to the headcanon my little love, which i LOVED writing w my whole heart.
settling into married life was surprisingly not difficult. you'd already spent so much time around hangman that forever felt so comfortable
now everyone is so happy and in high spirits. but max is significantly happier than them all and it's so wholesome to see
rooster, or "fairy godmother" (max likes to call him the latter....yes...godmother, not godfather. you don't know why but it's so funny, especially when you watch rooster react to this), is always there to take care of your kiddo when you're busy
he let him sit in his F-14 and take a picture with him :)
and you're paranoid and worrying the whole time but rooster's like "relax, i got him" and he's super chill about it
"he's gonna be a pilot. better than you, even," you leaned over and gave your husband a look
"i think so!"
the kid lives and breathes top gun. and now that you've moved in with hangman, you're only a few minutes' walk from base, making it easy to go back and forth.
when you're working at the hard deck, penny sits him by the nearest booth with a milkshake and some old books and toys
if one of the uncles or phoenix wasn't busy, they'd come over to keep him entertained
and you know when hangman's done for the day when you see max break into his signature grin. you've noticed that you only really see it around him
so you're celebrating his fourth birthday today. it's insane, because he already speaks like a six year old (hangman says it's because you're also smart af. but, being the cocky lil shit he is, fanboy likes to take the credit for it. i mean, the guy majored in biochem, so he knows his stuff)
it's an off day for everyone, so they're able to come help decorate the place. you had the idea to surprise your son, so while everyone was getting ready, fanboy was with max by the beach, playing soccer. they'd come back in an hour and boom!
by the end of things, the hard deck doesn't look like the hard deck anymore. it looks like max's paradise—a kiddie version of top gun, you realize. your heart melts because 🥺🥺🥺
everyone hides when they hear fanboy and max coming in
and then you all jump up from your hiding spots and yell "SURPRISE" and he starts grinning again
and then the kid runs straight towards hangman, giggling in pure delight
"daddy!" he yells
you're all like wait wtf
did he just
say
oh
hangman has to stop for a moment before picking him up. you can see him tearing up bc this is the first time max has ever said this
it's definitely really fulfilling to watch. when he was a baby and screamed and cried for hours at a time out of nowhere, you knew it wasn't always just from tiredness. or being hungry. or whatnot
the rest of the night you're all emotional af and max notices
"daddy why are you crying?"
there go the waterworks...more tears slip down jake's face 🥺😭
"because i'm happy!"
"people cry when they are sad! like when uncle fanboy loses to uncle payback!"
"HEY! kid, i thought you were on my side"
"so, i'm your dad now, huh?"
"forever and ever and ever and ever!"
how could you have gotten so lucky...
you're sitting here in the middle of the hard deck with your family. a family when realization hits. you had a loving husband, and a father, and a child that brightened up your world, and you couldn't have asked for anything more. you finally found someone that wanted forever and wasn't one to back away
now for some more cute moments post-birthday celebration
you take max to base every day right
and hangman will carry him on his shoulders all the time
if he's not done with his flight or workout or whatever, maverick takes his place
or his fairy godmother :)
as soon as he lands, max takes off at the speed of light and goes barreling towards him (how tf is the kid so FAST)
as hangman picks him up he looks at you and says "can we please have another kid. please"
"i want a sister! tell her, daddy!"
"see, the little man agrees"
sorry this ending was so awful i genuinely apologize...
tags, including people who may be interested: @totomoshi @sarcastic-sourwolf @sebastianstangirl01 @altheadarling @ellabellabus07 @hay-9105 @purelyfiction @93joons @criminalyetminimal @yeehawnana @lunamoonbby @hazelgirl355 @multifandom-fangirl4 @paintballkid711 @lyn-lc @whatlovegattado @azari-anna @thelifeofthelifeofme @lets-be-gay-for-the-angel @quivvyintheclouds @phoenixhalliwell @winteryoungie @mychoso @lt-b-rooster-bradshaw @jenny-riversmith @krisitzeneva @daethsticks @sithwidow @rosie-posie1313 @sadpetalsstuff @glossydi0r @i-simp-much @hay-9105 @meeeeees-stuff @sweetdayme4427 @unicornlover92 @intrxde @rhiannon-russo @dolce-clout @theghost1345 @baby-girl-e @greatbigshiningstar @joyfulbookreviewmarvelspy @julia-marshal @anya7802 @bittergomez @and-claudia @newlibrary @cosm1cfae
sorry if this doesn't seem updated! some tags include ppl who were tagged in part 1 of this blurb mini-series. if you'd like to be added to the taglist, comment or add yourself to the tgm taglist here!
#top gun#top gun: maverick#jake hangman seresin#jake seresin x reader#jake seresin#hangman seresin x reader#jake hangman seresin x reader#hangman x reader#glen powell#top gun imagine#top gun fic#hangman fic#jake seresin x you#hangman x you
57 notes
·
View notes
Text
...Passion Is the Gale.
16! Stormbringer chuuya x reader
(I gave the reader a name because I hate writing y/n but ya'll can read it as your own name. Note for the uncultured people, Takako was the poet's wife. I thought since Nobuko Sasaki was the name of kunikida's lover both in real life and in the Osamu dazai's entrance exam (kinda), I could do the same thing with chuuya.)
"You're sooo tiny, chuuya..."
"huh?"
If she wasn't shit-faced at the moment, he would've thrown her out the window like yeeting a fucking piece of trash outside.
Takako came closer, wrapping her arms around his neck. His nervous system went haywire, blood rushing to his face as she looked up at him through her lashes. How could he forgive her so easily in the blink of an eye when not even a minute ago he was planning to toss her out the window? Heh, weird...
God, it hurt. His head felt dizzy, eyes unable to focus. Maybe he'd gulped down more champagne than he could possibly handle. His surroundings were blurring, his grip on reality was starting to crumble. He was about to faint. Interesting... But he couldn't feel the buzz of alcohol quite yet, the sweet feeling of release, the same one that filled his head with momentary peacefulness and a feeling of happiness. He was at ease.
But now, at the moment, he wasn't. His mouth was dry, it tasted like blood... He felt like times when dazai was wasted, when that guy drank, he couldn't escape his thoughts, he couldn't bask in the same sense of satisfaction and ease as the rest of them. Dazai, with whiskey, further drowned in his own agony, his thoughts were leeches, sucking the will to live out of him. Like a wounded animal choking on its own blood. No, maybe that wasn't dazai...
That was him.
He felt takako's lips pressing against his skin, soft and gentle unlike every other touch he's known. He could feel her shifting on his lap, giggling. God, she was perfect like that... And he had her all to himself. Ane-san was right. Maybe... Just maybe... He *could* maybe spend the rest of his life drunk on her affection. And she was willing to give it all to him, after all she had no one else to cherish. This was the only way this girl ever got affection. So she kept him around like a precious doll she could love...
Her mouth reeked of alcohol, her breath felt hot against his face. Takako was right there, she was looking at him, she was kissing him, she was right there...
SHE WAS RIGHT THERE...
Chuuya was feeling more human and hooked on his flesh. It wasn't wrong, right? That felt raw, human... when he pressed her down on the couch, having her lay on her back with him on top. Her cheeks were rosy and it was as if she'd just remembered to act all shy and embarrassed. She kept glancing away from him, unable to hold his gaze but she was all he could look at. Her hair was splayed out on the couch like a masterpiece from the greatest of the great artists.
He reassured.
What he did... felt strange, but right. It wasn't wrong to act on his instincts, was it?
She laughed... takako would laugh at him for thinking like that, probably asking him "what 'bout that felt wrong?"
and he'd answer: "Me. I don't know what possessed me to do that..."
"Ha! What? that was amazing~ oof, really... Fucking amazing..."
She was right, it was amazing. *She* was amazing.
"Shhh, not another word. What's with the sudden change of heart? You wanted to have lit candles and stuff for your first time? How about roses? We can make like that next time, if you're still interested..."
He could almost see her clearly, hear her talk, tease him, ramble, curse... Oh God, his eyes were playing tricks on him.
His vision swam.
Takako was asleep... but her chest wasn't moving up and down. She was laying flat on her stomach, her arm loosely hanging over the edge of the bed, almost touching the ground. Black hair splayed out as beautifully as ever and... there was peace in her expression.
Her room didn't get as messed up as The Old World after verlaine's visit. She wasn't dismembered or brutally murdered. He wished she wasn't. He couldn't imagine the thought of...
She'd put up quite the fight, apparently. Face bruised, and when he lifted the blanket that was so carefully brought all the way up to her neck, he felt his stomach churn in disgust.
Takako's leg was missing from the knee down. The sheets were red, bloody red. He looked down at his bloodsoaked gloves for a moment, before lifting her shirt.
He took a step back.
It was no pleasant sight, but in all honesty, he'd seen worse... But this was takako, SHE was the one whose skin was peeled off like peeling an orange.
"Chuuya-sama, are you well? You don't seem to be in a very good mental state, I'll figure out a way to cheer you-"
Adam was interrupted by the sound of someone puking.
Chuuya knelt down to catch his breath.
Goddammit... Why did he feel like crying like a little kid? He'd never cried before, not even when the flags died, not even his so called 'family', The Sheep, betrayed him. Not when he betrayed them.
He'd failed to protect her, he'd failed to protect them all. Adam rushed to his side but he pushed the european detective aside.
He got the massage and didn't step forward.
Chuuya wiped the corner of his mouth, looking at the vomit on the ground that was mixed with blood. What a nasty combination...
One last look at her face, and he was done.
Takako was dead.
#bsd#bungo stray dogs#bungou stray dogs#bsd chuuya#chuuya#chuuya nakahara#nakahara chūya#bsd chūya#chuuya x reader#bsd x reader#bsd fic#bsd fanfic#bsd stormbringer#stormbringer#stormbringer chuuya#16 chuuya
45 notes
·
View notes
Text
i feel like laughing in the middle of practice 🤍
summary: when you stop by to show your boyfriend some support at his practice, he can't help but think of all the funny times between the two fo you.
pairing: soccer player!chris sturniolo × fem!reader
warnings // topics: high-school au, some vulgar language, fluff
a/n: will definitely be writing short little one-shots between the releases of chapters for my new series, so... here's a fluffy chris one for you guys💞
"what're you doing here, y/n?" chris asked, trying to hide his excitement but ultimately failing as he grinned widely.
you just shrugged, "i wanted to watch you and come support you. this is your last practice before the championship and i just want you to know that no matter what, i'll always be here."
his smile faded slowly, lips parting as blood rushed to his cheeks. he would give you the world, you were his person and he already knew it.
his hands found their way to your shoulders, running down your arms softly in a way of affection before he pulled you into a big hug.
your smile widened, nuzzling your head into his chest as your hands wrapped around his body. he was the best hugger you knew, and an even better boyfriend.
"i love you," he muttered quietly, taking in the scent of your shampoo as he kissed your head lovingly.
"i love you more, chris." you replied, hearing the boy laugh.
he pulled away from you before scoffing, "well, that's not true, but i don't really have time to argue right now."
he crossed his arms over each other, and you couldn't help but stare at his body. he didn't have huge muscles, but he was so strong and his body was clear proof of that.
chris looked even better in his soccer uniform, those shorts that fit around his waist a little loose and the jersey that had his last name on the back.
you would never get tired of seeing him like this.
chris's laugh broke you out of your trance, "what are you looking at?"
this time it was your turn to be flushed, hiding your face in chris's zip-up hoodie that you took a few days ago, "nothing, just go and do your soccer-y things!"
the brunette chuckled, "yeah, okay, i'll go do my "soccer-y" things."
"love you, babe," he muttered, kissing your cheek before jogging off to the field where his teammates were talking.
chris wasn't even halfway through stretches when you crossed his mind yet again. nolan was complaining about his dad, and the brunette boy's mind couldn't help but wander.
he remembered that impression you did of your dad, about how strict he was when it came to boys.
that was probably one of the few times he's laughed that hard. and right now, he just couldn't help but let out a little snicker.
it went unnoticed by the rest of his team, as they were chanting the muscle they were currently stretching out.
"sturniolo! i can't hear you," coach william yelled, and chris sighed.
even when he started to yell along with his teammates, his mind was still on you. you were so good to him, putting up with his energetic, silly personality.
his head turned to the bleachers, and he smiled with his teeth. you were there, right on the first row.
you weren't on your phone or distracted by anything else, your attention was solely on him and only him.
as you gave him a thumbs up, he giggled, flustered as he looked away and back to the team.
he was obsessed with you.
the next time you crossed his mind was during scrimmage, he overheard the other boys talking about the game "kiss, marry, kill."
he remembered on of your first encounters with each other, it was at a party that his brother, matt, had hosted.
some girl had suggested the game, and when it was chris's turn you were one of the options. he had said marry, and that same night you had shared your first kiss.
chris was goalie at the moment, and right now somebody was coming up the field. he quickly got ready before the ball was kicked.
he groaned as the ball hit his face, bending over and holding his nose, "shit,"
javion ran over, eyes wide as he patted his teammates back, "chris, you okay?"
"my bad, man, i forgot i could kick that hard." he apologized, stepping away as chris stood up straight again.
chris smiled, "you're good. i wasn't even paying attention. it's my fault."
when the next round started, the thought of you was still lingering in his mind. he couldn't escape it, but he wasn't complaining.
practice was over and chris was practically sprinting towards you. it hadn't taken him long since he was the fastest on the soccer team, though.
he fell into your arms, hugging you tightly as he inhaled your perfume again, "i missed you."
you chuckled, looking up at him, "it's only been an hour, and i've been here the entire time, baby,"
"'felt like an eternity when i couldn't see your face." chris muttered before pulling away to stare at you.
your face went red again, looking away as you smiled widely.
he whined, "c'mon, i've been waiting to see you and now you're hiding?"
"oh, stop being a baby." you said, pulling him into a kiss.
chris smiled, holding your waist possessively as he ran his tongue over your bottom lip.
"i love you, y/n." he whispered against your lips, mind racing with millions of thoughts of you.
"i love you, too, chris."
. . . . .
tags: @adirtylittleheart @thc-bolter
#Spotify#chris sturniolo x you#chris sturniolo#christopher sturniolo#chris sturniolo x reader#chris sturniolo fluff#sturniolo#sturniolo triplets#matthew sturniolo#nick sturniolo#nicolas sturniolo#matt sturniolo#sturniolo x reader#sturniolo imagine
42 notes
·
View notes
Text
Alternate AU: New Beginnings
Cesar Torres meets up with a familiar face, and when he visits the BPS headquarters, he’s greeted by one that’s...not as friendly.
Notes: This is around 3’500 words, and isn’t as well thought out as my last two alt au fics, but I wanted to write how I think Cesar’s first day in the BPS went. So once again, I hope you enjoy :)
The sun was beginning to set over Bythorne, casting darkness over the town as people began to head home for the night. Two bright beams emitting from the headlights of a black car hit the side of a small house, which rested near the edge of town. The vehicle’s engine rumbled as it parked in the small driveway before its lights shut off and the doors opened.
Emerging from the driver’s side was a man in his mid-twenties, staring at the home with curiosity. Cesar was wearing a red hoodie over a white button up shirt. His raven-black hair was long and wavy, with one grey streak running down his bangs. He had faint stubble over his chin and upper lip, mainly because he didn’t feel like shaving. His brown eyes stared at the home as he began to approach it.
“So…this is the place?” Cesar asked the figure leaving the car behind him.
“Yep. It’s…not a lot,” The figure sighed, her gaze fixed on the house as well as she followed Cesar. “It was the cheapest rent we could find around here.”
Sarah was a younger woman, wearing a black hoodie with the letters BPS written on her chest in bright yellow lettering. Her long, brown hair draped over her shoulders, running down her back. She approached Cesar, who was standing next to the front door, waiting for her to let them both in.
“It’s not all bad,” Sarah said as she took out a key from her pocket. “It does the job fine enough. Just…don’t expect anything fancy.” She opened the door, gesturing inside as Cesar walked into the building. Sarah followed close behind, shutting the door behind her.
Cesar took a look around the living room, seeing that it wasn’t…the cleanest place he had ever seen. Cardboard boxes were littered in the corner of the room, along with some miscellaneous junk that hadn’t been thrown away. Sarah seemed to notice the disarray as well, as she immediately let out an annoyed groan. “God damn it…I told him to clean his shit.” Sarah muttered under her breath. “I’m sorry, Cesar, I promise it’s normally cleaner than this.”
“Uh…are those…guns?” Cesar pointed towards a pair of firearms resting against the wall, one being a shotgun and the other being a huntsman’s rifle. Small boxes of bullets were resting on the coffee table sitting in front of the couch, as if someone was planning a hunting trip.
“Oh…yeah, you don’t need to worry about those.” Sarah said. “I mean, you’ve been around guns before, right?”
“I…guess.” Cesar stated. “I shot a pistol at a gun range once, though it was a long time ago.”
“Well, with…the alternate…thing, it’s just safer to have a gun handy, you know?” Sarah said. “Now…why don’t I show you around? There’s not a whole lot to see, but if you’re gonna stay here, you might as well know where the bathroom is.”
“Heh…yeah,” Cesar said with a slight smile. “Sure.”
“Who is this?”
Cesar was nearly startled out of his shoes when he heard the deep, extremely gravelly voice coming from the hallway. He glanced over to where the voice originated, seeing that he and Sarah weren’t the only ones there. A very tall, long-legged man was standing in the hall, glaring at Cesar through dark eyes. He was wearing a dark grey tank top, which itself was partially covered by a black back-brace around his mid-section. In fact, both his elbows and knees were covered in similar braces. His black hair was tied back in a messy bun, and his facial hair was scraggly. Just looking at him made Cesar nervous, and the man’s intense glare only made that feeling worse.
“Oh…hey, Seth.” Sarah sighed, sounding like she was preparing for a lecture.
“Who the hell is this?” Seth repeated, his cold glare still fixed on Cesar as he approached the two. Cesar couldn’t help but notice that Seth walked with a slight limp, using his right leg more than the left.
“This is Cesar, I knew him a few years ago.” Sarah explained.
Seth looked down at Cesar, who was attempting to conceal his discomfort. Seth looked as if he didn’t sleep in days, if the dark circles around his eyes were any indication. His gloved hands were curled into loose fists, hanging by his sides. Cesar noticed that he was wearing a belt around his hips, which had a pistol in a holster clipped onto it. Seth stared deep into Cesar’s eyes, as if he was looking for something.
“…Uh…hey…?” Cesar smiled nervously.
“…If you’re one of them, you’re pretty convincing.” Seth muttered. “Or you’re just a special case.”
“Seth, please…” Sarah said.
“Sarah, can I talk to you for a second?” Seth asked before walking towards one of the other rooms, finally letting Cesar let out his breath. Sarah shook her head slightly before glancing back at Cesar, shrugging slightly. When she joined Seth, and they were out of view of Cesar, Seth let out a sigh.
“I told you to let me know these things in advance.” Seth stated.
“Damn it, do we have to go through this every time?” Sarah asked. “I know him personally; can I not just let him join?”
“How well do you know him?” Seth asked.
“Well enough; my brother was good friends with him.” Sarah responded with a twinge of annoyance. “He’s a good man, I know it—”
“Was he acting…strange before he got here?”
“No, he wasn’t.”
“How long has it been since you last saw him?”
“I don’t know…around…eight years?”
“Eight?” Seth repeated. “And you don’t think that anything could have happened in between then and now?”
“No, it…it doesn’t seem like it.”
“Are you sure that he’s—”
“Seth, can you please just…chill for a moment?” Sarah interrupted. “You go through this…thing every single time we get a new member.”
“I just wish you actually told me before you bring in someone you only know through association.” Seth sighed.
“Don’t you ever think this is the reason no one joins the BPS anymore?” Sarah asked. “You scare them away before you even know them.”
“I do not—”
“Yes you do.” Sarah responded. “Just…please. Give him a chance, at least. Can you do that?”
“I’m just being careful, Sarah,” Seth defended, his bushy eyebrows furrowing on his face. “You should be too.”
“Don’t you think you’re being too ‘careful’?”
“…Sarah…don’t you remember what happened the last time I wasn’t careful?” Seth’s voice lowered. “Bad things happen.”
“…I guess…but…come on, you know that wasn’t because of you.” Sarah said, equally lowering her voice. “I believe this time will be different. Can you please just give Cesar a chance? Just this once?”
Seth remained silent, looking at his feet before he let out a deep sigh. “…So you are certain…that you trust him?” Seth asked quietly.
“Yes.”
“…Alright.”
Cesar sat cross-legged on the couch, waiting for Sarah and Seth to be done with their conversation. He heard their muffled voices behind the wall, feeling a sense of unease as he attempted to figure out what they were saying. He felt like he was about to be interrogated by the police, if the cop was instead a gruff, stupidly tall man that looked like he’d shoot Cesar dead if he just looked at him funny. He was almost relieved when Sarah and Seth finally walked back into the living room, breaking the increasingly unbearable tension. Cesar stood up quickly, keeping an eye on Seth specifically as he approached.
“Your name is Cesar, correct?” Seth asked, lightly brushing against Sarah as he walked in front of her.
“Yeah.” Cesar responded. “…Cesar Torres.”
“Well, Cesar, while you’re here, you’re going to adhere to the rules we have in place, you understand?” Seth stated.
“Yeah, I…I guess so.” Cesar agreed.
“Sarah will show you around,” Seth glanced at Sarah. “But if you have any questions, you come to me. You understand?”
“Uh…yeah; yeah of course.” Cesar coughed, having to force his gaze away from the pistol on the older man’s hip.
“If anything happens,” Seth turned to Sarah as he lowered his voice, “You come to me, and I’ll take care of it.”
“Okay, I’ll take it from here.” Sarah said.
Seth took one last glance at Cesar before leaving the room, closing the door behind him. There was silence for a moment before Cesar looked towards Sarah, “What was…all that about?” He asked.
“I…I’m sorry, I forgot to mention him.” Sarah crossed her arms. “That’s Seth. He’s the head of the BPS. I wouldn’t worry about him; he’s harmless.”
“…I fucking doubt that, honestly.” Cesar muttered. “He looked like he’d kill me without second thought.”
“He’ll get over it…it might just…take a while.” Sarah said, not quite confident in her statement. “Well…do you still want to take a look around?”
“Uh…sure.” Cesar responded. “I guess…”
As Sarah led Cesar down the main hallway to the other rooms, Cesar remembered something Seth had said. “Uh…what was the whole…’come get me if something happens’ thing Seth said?”
“He…he’s still not convinced you aren’t an alternate.” Sarah sighed. “He basically told me he’d shoot you if you try anything.”
“…Oh.” Cesar stopped in place, staring at the ground before shaking his head slightly and following Sarah into one of the rooms. “Swell guy…and you said he’s harmless?”
“To people who don’t deserve it.” Sarah responded, stopping in the middle of the small bedroom. “…Well. Here’s the bedroom. This is where you can sleep and keep your stuff.”
Cesar looked into the bedroom, seeing that there were two twin-sized beds next to opposite sides of the room, both empty. There were a few boxes in the corner, resting in front of the closet to the right of the bedroom door. They were all unmarked, cardboard boxes, full of random possessions and clothes. It wasn’t a bad size for a bedroom; better than the apartment he had been living in anyway. At the very least, it was big enough for both him and his cat to stay in.
“Sorry about the mess…we haven’t cleaned out this room yet.” Sarah said, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed.
“Is this where you sleep too?” Cesar asked.
“No, I sleep in the other room.” Sarah stated. “No one stays in here right now…Seth sleeps on the couch.”
“Oh…so you just…use this as a storage room or something?” Cesar asked, hesitantly approaching the pile of boxes.
“Don’t touch those.”
Cesar froze, looking back at Sarah, noticing the strange…almost sad stare she was giving him.
“…Oh…sorry.” Cesar backed away, sliding his hands in his pockets. As much as he wanted to know whose possessions were in the boxes, he figured it would’ve been best to stay silent. It didn’t seem like Sarah wanted to answer anyway.
“…So…uh…” Cesar coughed forcefully, hoping to break the tension. “What...do you guys do, exactly? Is it just paranormal investigations and all that?”
“…Basically, yeah.” Sarah responded. “We take reports, we go to the locations and investigate, rinse and repeat.”
“So…like the Ghostbusters?”
“No.” Sarah stated. “You wouldn’t believe the amount of times people called us the fucking Mystery Gang, or the Ghostbusters, or some other shit.”
“…Oh.” Cesar muttered. “But you guys are like ghost hunters, right?”
“In a way,” Sarah shrugged. “Though we take other reports too. Like…well…Alternate reports.” Sarah’s voice seemed to lower slightly at the mention of alternates.
“…Alternates?” Cesar repeated, approaching Sarah with disbelief in his eyes. “You guys…go after fucking alternates?”
“Occasionally.”
“Holy shit…” Cesar exhaled.
“…Cesar…this may seem kinda…out of nowhere, but can I ask you something?” Sarah asked, sounding as if she was itching to ask whatever question she was thinking of for a long time.
“Shoot.”
“…Have you seen Mark?” Sarah’s voice had a hint of desperation, her eyes with a glint of sadness. Cesar was taken aback, looking at the ground before scratching the back of his head. “It’s…just been years since I’ve heard anything about him, and I just want to know if you…if you’ve seen him, or heard anything new. No one’s been telling me anything, and you were really close to him, so I was just hoping…you knew anything?” Sarah continued as Cesar thought intently.
“…No.” Cesar stated, unsure if he was actually telling the truth. “No, I haven’t.”
Sarah sighed in disappointment, her eyes not making contact with Cesar’s. “I just thought…you would’ve known more.” Sarah muttered. “I mean…you stayed in Mandela longer than I did…as soon as I could, I got the fuck out of that hellhole.”
Cesar knew that the statement was false. He knew very well that he left Mandela before Sarah was legally allowed to live on her own. He left Mandela when he was 18 and still in high school, long before he was prepared to start his own life. The night he left his loving home and drove away from everything he grew up with. The night he met—
“Are you alright?” Sarah asked softly.
Cesar wasn’t sure why she asked that until he noticed that a tear was running down his face. He wiped it off with his sleeve, coughing before finally answering her question. “I’m alright, just…tired, I guess.”
“Do you want to go back to your place?” Sarah asked. “I can get everything cleaned up before you start living here.”
“Ah…it’s…it’s fine.” Cesar said. “I want to kinda…get used to this place anyway…get used to…Seth being there.”
“I’m sure you’ll get used to everything soon enough.” Sarah assured. As she examined Cesar’s distracted expression, she felt a sense of sadness radiating off of her friend. “…Are you sure you’re alright?”
“Yeah…” Cesar lied. “…I guess.”
Cesar was led by Sarah around the apartment, getting used to the layout of the place and the fact that there were guns in every single room. Sarah told him that most of them belonged to Seth, which wasn’t very surprising; he looked like the kind of guy to own a military’s worth of firearms. Overall, it wasn’t a bad apartment; for the shoestring budget that the BPS had, it wasn’t too crowded, even with three people living in it.
After the tour was over, Sarah and Cesar sat in the living room, both of them looking at the coffee table, which had multiple pieces of tech laid across it. Sarah explained the purposes of all of them, all while Cesar listened with interest.
“…And this is a spirit box,” Sarah stated as she picked up one of the gadgets. “Ghosts can use the radio frequencies to communicate to the living.”
“Huh…spooky.” Cesar said, lightly taking the spirit box out of her hand and examining it. “I’ve seen shows about ghost hunting…they almost always have one of these.”
“It’s one of the most common things to use in paranormal investigations.” Sarah said. “So…yeah, of course you’ve seen it on TV…well…before they were banned a year ago.”
“I never understood that.” Cesar said. “Like why get rid of the fuckin TVs? Last time I checked, alternates can’t come through TVs.”
“Well…you never know, those things are…unpredictable.” Sarah stated.
“Yeah…definitely.” Cesar muttered.
Sarah looked at the gadgets on the table, furrowing her brows before she sighed. “Fuck, I forgot the thermal camera…” Sarah stood up from the couch. “You should probably know how to use it…I’ll be back in a second, sit tight.” Sarah left the room, walking down the hallway until she was out of view. Cesar sighed, leaning back on the couch as he began waiting for Sarah to get back.
“Looks like you’ve had a rough time.”
Cesar jerked his body around, seeing that Seth was walking towards the couch, staring at him. “…How long…have you been there?” Cesar asked sheepishly.
“I only just came in here.” Seth stated. “Heard you and Sarah talking.”
“…Wait, what do you mean?” Cesar asked. “…The whole…me having a rough time thing. How would you even tell?”
“That streak in your hair.” Seth responded, his hand reaching into his pocket and taking out a box of cigarettes; it was nearly empty. No wonder he had such a gruff voice.
“…What about it?” Cesar asked, lightly touching his grey bang with his hand.
“You know…I read somewhere that people’s hair can turn grey after a traumatic experience.” Seth explained as he lit the cigarette in his mouth. “…some people’s hair turned completely white.”
“…I…I just thought it was just some…coincidence.” Cesar said.
“Not trying to pry, kid…” Seth said. “But what exactly happened to make you want to join the BPS?”
“…I…I don’t know, I just kinda…felt…a calling?” Cesar struggled to find the words, not wanting to tell the guy the exact reason. “I felt like I could…get some answers.”
Seth paused, sighing a bit before walking in front of Cesar and sitting on the other end of the couch, avoiding sitting right next to the young man. “…Yeah, that’s what a lot of people want. It’s not like anyone else is gonna answer anything.”
“What do you mean?”
“Mandela County especially has been trying to keep everything down low.” Seth explained. “Bythorne is the same; though you can be a bit more…open with talking about those things here than you can in Mandela.”
“I-I see.” Cesar said.
“You’re from there, right?” Seth questioned. “That’s what Sarah told me anyway.”
“…I used to live there, yeah.” Cesar answered.
“Ah.” Seth said, squinting his eyes slightly. “I’ve always hated that cesspool. Nothing but…death. Death, pain, and police who don’t care about the people they’re supposed to protect.”
“Heh…you…you got something against Mandela, huh?” Cesar smiled slightly.
“I…grew up there.” Seth said. “…Wouldn’t say it was much of a childhood, but I stayed there until I was old enough to leave.”
“I always felt…weird about Mandela.” Cesar said. “I…I don’t want to go back there in a million years.”
“…Well, sorry to say, kid, but you just might.”
“…What?” Cesar looked at Seth, who was staring at his feet.
“Mandela is where we get quite a few reports from.” Seth explained. “…So you might have to tag along.”
Cesar sighed, the clear worry in his face getting the attention of Seth. He sat up straight, staring at Cesar as he thought to himself.
“Cesar, I’m going to warn you,” Seth stated. “If you want to be in the BPS, you’re gonna need to be ready for anything. You may find yourself in…dangerous situations…situations that can be life or death. You need to know how to defend yourself from those…things out there, and most importantly, you need to be mentally strong. If you don’t think you can do any of those things, I’d recommend leaving now.”
Cesar remained silent, staring at Seth’s face, seeing that his eyes were cold, as if he was fully expecting Cesar to give up right there. Cesar sat still, contemplating as Seth stared at him, awaiting an answer. “I’m giving you an out, Torres.” Seth stated. “You can leave. No one will be mad at you.”
“…No.” Cesar muttered under his breath.
“…No?”
“No, I’m…I’m not just gonna leave before I even start.” Cesar continued. “I want—no—I need answers to some things that…I just can’t get out of my mind. I need to figure out…why.”
“…Why, what?”
“Why…I…saw…” Cesar trailed off, realizing he wasn’t ready to talk about his own…encounter, especially with a man that seemed to not give two shits about him. “I just need to figure things out.”
Seth remained silent for a moment, taking another hit from his cigarette, seeming surprised by Cesar’s response. “Fair enough…I suppose.” He coughed. “Just know that you can’t fool around, you hear?”
“I won’t.”
“Good. Fucking around might very well get you killed.” Seth said, standing up from the couch. Cesar heard a crack come from Seth’s knees, along with a slight grunt as he stood there for a moment, grimacing slightly.
“…You alright?” Cesar asked.
“Yeah…just…” Seth sighed deeply, walking away. “…Fucking bullshit…”
Cesar watched as Seth left the room, brushing past Sarah as she came back with the camera. She watched him leave before looking back At Cesar, quickly walking back to the couch. “Sorry about that, I had to look through one of the boxes for this.” Sarah said, placing the camera on the table.
“Oh…no problem.” Cesar said.
“Did…Seth say anything rude to you?” Sarah asked.
“Huh? Oh…no, not really.” Cesar responded. “…I don’t think.”
“Good…” Sarah said. “I’m just…tired of him threatening new members.”
Cesar looked towards the hallway Seth left through, sighing deeply as he thought to himself. He started wondering if he was really going to get answers for his plight in the BPS, or if he really was putting himself in danger like Seth mentioned. He had been haunted by questions for as long as he had lived in Bythorne, none of which getting any answers. Who knew; maybe Seth would end up warming up to him, as unlikely as it appeared. Until that day however, Cesar was going to be careful. The last thing he needed was to get shot.
#shmorp writes sometimes#tmc#mandela catalogue#tmc alternate au#Cesar Torres (alt au)#sarah heathcliff#Seth greer (tmc)#no warnings for this one.#haha another fic within a week of the last one. didn’t expect that one did ya#yeah. Seth and Cesar may be close later on but. it absolutely didn’t start that way#not as proud of this as the last two but I think that’s because it wasn’t really planned#i just started writing this out one time for shits and giggles#either way. here it is. the dudes. all the bps guys together
82 notes
·
View notes
Text
I think the way the Lady and the Thin Man became a lot more enjoyable to me as a duo when I stopped believing Six to be the Lady needs to be studied in a lab
#carols.txt#the context is that i always disliked every lady pairing since when i was young#esp because everyone was trying to give her a husband when she frankly never needed one at all#and it seemed detrimental to her character ever to little media illiterate carols#but i've been in fandoms a long time so when ln 2 came out i kinda expected them to be and#i didnt like it but i guess it was... fine for the shits and giggles#then i started doing the digging in the games myself and I was like 《wait. WAIT》#listen i love when two characters are the sides of a coin. i love when theres complexity that could be explored#《what complexity》 the one i made up in my mind /j#i think that they are VERY interesting if you read them separately but reading them in context together is... ough. OUGHHHHHB#this is how they got the pass from me. like OK ................ ok old people i'll let you out of the asylum just this once#they're both vile in a way that is so different and tied into each other's narrative in a way that is so visceral#i need to actually write out why because you will be looking at my insane tags and not understanding I PROMISE YOU I HAVE MY REASONS#I PROMISE
45 notes
·
View notes
Text
· . ˚ 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐡𝐚𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐞
— the little mannerisms you pick up from the members of stray kids over the course of your relationship.
words・3.7k / pairings・ot8 x gn!reader / genres・fluff, humor, borderline crack, intentional lowercase, established relationship(s) / warnings・minsung’s are suggestive, touch of anxiety in felix's, jeongin's is lowkey gross LMFAO
a/n・massive shoutout to @/http.dwaekkii on tiktok for their edits about the boys' habits, which i consulted for chan, changbin, seungmin, and jeongin (and to @astraystayyh for beta reading hehe. what would i do without u). these were sooooo fun to write, hope u guys enjoy (｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )
chan + getting shy easily. poor thing gets embarrassed so quickly as it is. throw you into the mix and it’s just critical hit after critical hit. defense lowered. no health potions left. he folds like a lawn chair with a massive smile and a whiny “stooooop” every time you say something even remotely affectionate. the habit is adorable, and you love it to pieces.
but you like poking fun at it even more. “god forbid i find my literal underwear model of a boyfriend attractive,” you’d say, or something along those lines, which of course only triples his embarrassment and on more than one occasion results in him starfishing on your kitchen floor, his hood pulled over his face.
fast forward however many months. he’s still the worst compliment-receiver you know, but you discover one arbitrary afternoon that it’s rubbed off on you.
the two of you are cuddled together on the living room couch in your usual fashion, your legs thrown over his thighs and his hands tracing absently over your shins as you relay to him something you overheard on the subway. the conversation is painfully normal. you’re almost bored. you pause to take a breath, and he murmurs, out of nowhere, in the dreamiest tone: “so damn beautiful.”
“wha—huh? what is?”
“you. your voice, your face, everything. i‘m lucky.”
your expression of bewilderment persists for around ten seconds, and then slowly, so slowly, you begin to sandwich your head between your knees, balling yourself up like a spooked armadillo. chan wonders if he should call an ambulance.
“love?” no response. “what, uh, what’s happening right now, exactly?”
no response. no response. then, hoarsely, “you can’t...say shit like that…randomly.”
he notices two things after that. one, your skin is burning hot enough to fry something upon, and two, you’ve formed a fist in the fabric of his hoodie, which you only do when you’re pretending to be annoyed at him. the puzzle pieces fall into place, and he starts grinning like a madman.
“you’re…embarrassed?”
the guttural groan you emit is more than enough of an answer, and the cute aggression that overcomes chan is fucking debilitating. he wraps his arms around you and hauls you entirely off the couch and onto his lap, littering kisses over your face until it finally resigns into a matching smile. all intent to continue feigning grumpiness erased with the drop of a hat. you drape an arm over his neck.
“you’re so good to me, channie,” you sigh helplessly. “i love you.”
“love you more, baby.” he imprints these words directly upon your lips, then pulls away, giggles. “that was very me of you, by the way.”
“i know, right? i was just about to say.”
minho + butt touching. it’s quite simple, really. if lee minho is within proximity of someone’s buttocks, he will, as he lives and breathes, make it known. will it be a coy little swat or a yelp-eliciting, full-bodied grab? nobody ever knows, not even him. the unpredictability is what makes it exciting.
but it takes a while before this starts applying to you, because the way minho touches you is…different. doting. there’s no other way to describe how he always holds the nape of your neck while kissing you, how he rests a hand against the small of your back whenever he leads you somewhere, how during the nights you can’t sleep he guides you to the place on his chest where he knows his heartbeat is loudest. he even drags you into his trademark headlocks the same way one would hold an invaluable treasure. he’s so obsessed with all of you that he never thinks to pay just your butt special attention (though it is, indeed, a special butt).
you take it into your own hands. literally.
you don’t know what prompts it—maybe you’ve simply seen minho slap his members’ asses one too many times, or maybe you’re still thinking of the specific time minho slapped changbin’s ass in passing and it fucking echoed, or maybe minho just looks especially fine in this practice outfit, a skintight tee and washed sweatpants that hug him in all the right places—but you feel a new urge today as your boyfriend swings his duffel over his shoulder, circles around the kitchen counter.
he puckers up as he nears you, silently requesting his goodbye; you give it to him, relishing for a moment in the familiar, soft plush of his lips beneath yours. then he pulls away and turns to leave, and your hand acquires its target.
“go get ‘em, tiger.” thwack!
minho jumps a foot into the air. clutches his pearls and his left butt cheek. becomes the splitting image of that perplexed blonde lady surrounded by geometry.
but when he turns around to stare at you, the smirk melting across his face betrays how he really feels about what you’ve just done. good. really good.
you, meanwhile, look genuinely confused. “it’s like it moved on its own.”
minho beams. steps towards you daintily, intentionally, like a cat catching sight of a laser beam. brings a hand to your hip, murmurs, “that’s what we’re doing now?” kisses you again, for longer this time.
you fully foresee his fingers wandering to your ass to give it a gentle squeeze, but you reach up to cuff his shoulder when it happens anyways, and his laugh vibrates against your mouth. it seems you’ll be reaping what you’ve sown from now on.
(good luck.)
changbin + the Cackle™. yes, you said something exceptionally funny. yes, you expected changbin to find it funny too. but you couldn’t expect the godforsaken noise that left his mouth as he threw himself straight into the tree planter behind you.
your mind spun with frantic questions as you helped him out of the dirt. had the spirit of spongebob just usurped his vocal cords? were you on a date with the wicked witch of the west? most importantly—
“are you well?” you sputtered, which only made him laugh harder and his laugh so much crazier, so you started laughing, too. and you were goners, falling over each other until you’d been reduced to watery eyes and sore cheeks, your giggling interrupted only by the sound of you slapping his thigh every so often, heartily enough to reverberate around the little park in which you concluded your second date.
that’s how you fall for seo changbin: laughing. with a reckless, breathless abandon you didn’t think possible. stumbling across empty sidewalks, spitting noodles across dining tables, begging for mercy on studio couches. wrestling under tear-stained comforters, starting (and re-starting) silly stories, huffing into beaming kisses. the list goes on.
you never quite get used to that chortle of his, too busy enjoying its insanity to notice how your own chuckles grow shorter and shriller, how they gradually develop an edge like the chittering of a forest dweller.
you complete your transformation on your ninety-eighth date.
no, changbin doesn’t say anything exceptionally funny. no, he doesn’t expect you to find it exceptionally funny, either. he expects least of all for you to fold over the kitchen island and start cackling like cruella de vil on helium.
jisung turns around from his seat on the couch. chan’s footsteps come to a halt as he emerges from the bathroom. both of them have fear in their eyes as they witness your undoing.
the only thing on changbin’s face, though, is unfettered delight.
“b-baby,” he sputters with a growing smile. “are you—”
you lift your face off the marble surface and turn to face him. the entirety of your forehead and the point of your nose is covered in flour. you blow a cloud of the stuff out of your mouth like a dragon awoken from slumber.
he loses it.
the two of you make your way onto the floor in slow motion, ending in a tangled heap against the side of the counter. changbin tries to clean off the flour and smears it all over your cheeks instead. you are zero help whatsoever, smacking his bicep like that’ll help you catch your breath. your synchronized, diabolical laughter reaches every corner of the apartment. your happiness reaches every nerve ending.
chan and jisung look at each other and sigh. jisung takes a video.
hyunjin + side-eyeing. this man is so god awful at controlling his face, bless him…and DAMN HIM.
on one hand, you love how in tune with his emotions he is, how confidently he puts them on display. and you love your synergy. you come closer to believing in soulmates every time you glance his way and discover your exact feelings written all over his features; it’s a special type of happiness, sharing a brain with your favorite person in the world.
on the other hand, you think there’s a time and place for candor, and he tends, well, not to think at all. during many a precarious situation, you’ll catch him wearing an expression so transparent that he might as well arrange the words THIS IS STUPID AND I HATE ALL OF YOU over his head in neon lights. cue a dig of your heel into his toe, a hiss of pain cut short by your piercing glare. if you’d known ahead of time that dating hwang hyunjin would have you doing so much damage control…you’d still date him, let’s be real. but you do get stressed at times.
the night the tables turn, you’re at a celebratory dinner for your coworker’s birthday. small caveat: you can’t stand her. she’s the type to spontaneously combust if she goes two minutes without talking about herself. certainly doesn’t help that she’s downing champagne like water, and her lips are looser than ever.
hyunjin comes with you, fortunately. or not. he spends the whole evening trying so hard not to laugh: snorting into his bread, excusing himself to “cough.” you think he actually starts doing breathing exercises at some point. you’re so, so grateful that he’s here, but you’re also deathly afraid that he’s gonna bring out those neon lights in front of your entire office.
then, she flirts with him.
from the opposite end of the table. perfectly wasted but still knowing perfectly well that he’s yours. the whole patio goes silent. hyunjin’s jaw hits the table.
your fork clatters to your plate.
FUCK time and place.
the side-eye you give her is devastating. truly masterful. your brow furrows. your eyes turn to slits. your gaze does the up-down-up of unadulterated incredulity. hyunjin recognizes the motions straightaway and starts smiling so hard his whole face hurts.
you take your boyfriend’s wrist and stand up. he follows suit. you don’t say a thing as you leave the restaurant, and you don’t have to. the intensity of your disdain was more than enough; anything more and she might’ve started crying.
once you’re on the curb outside, hyunjin pulls on your interlocked hands, brings you close. his lips brush against the shell of your ear. you hear laughter and his smirk in his voice: “you might be the sexiest person on earth."
jisung + how he applies lip balm. that han jisung is the pioneer of modern day babygirlism is the worst kept secret in the world. that han jisung applies lip balm the riveting way he does, however, is unknown even to you. until one morning.
you pop into the bathroom and make your usual beeline for your toothbrush, only to end up motionless in front of the sink, staring. jisung is a bit off to the side, hair pinned back by a cinnamoroll headband, eyes glued to his phone, hand holding a tube of chapstick that you can actually see getting shorter in real time. he looks so pensive, so concentrated. how long has it been since he last blinked? you’ve half a mind to pull out a stopwatch.
finally, he rubs his lips together, recaps the chapstick, and makes eye contact with you in the mirror. a smile crosses his face, equal parts confused and amused.
“baby, your mouth is open.”
you close it. then you open it again, and your words come out in a barely-contained laugh: “what on earth did you just do?”
“what do you mean?”
“the—” you point at his mouth, then do your best impression of an elementary schooler trying to color inside the lines. “—that.”
jisung looks aghast. “that was LIP BALM.”
“no, i know what it—you’re so—i meant, why do you apply it like that?”
jisung continues to look aghast. “like what?”
“like you’re one of socrates’ prized pupils and the answer to the universe’s formation lies at the bottom of—” you step in close, reach into the pocket of his sweatpants. “—this tube!”
it might be the craziest thing you’ve ever said to him. he bursts into laughter, the kind that leaves him no recollection of what he does with his limbs, and when he can see straight again he discovers he’s pressed you gently against the counter. his fingers latched around the hem of your top, his grin inches away from yours. can’t stay away from you to save his life, this one.
“do i actually?”
“yes! holy shit, it’s so cute.” your arms circle around his neck, also without an ounce of thought, also through a fit of giggles. “no way you’ve always done that, right?”
“i don’t know. i’ve never thought about it.” a pause. a tilt of his head, with purpose. “am i…doing it wrong?”
the question is a trap and you realize it too late. your gaze drops from his eyes to his lips—a ray of sunlight glistens off the pink plush like a paid actor—then back to his eyes. let’s find out.
you lean in. so does he. and his mouth tastes and feels like melted fucking sugar. it’s such a pleasant surprise that you actually moan, and he chuckles against you. lifts you onto the edge of the sink. your mind really goes empty after that, save for one thought. i have to start doing that.
felix + checking his own pulse. you saw it from afar, the first time.
he stood by the stage’s entrance just before curtain up, pointer and middle finger pressed against the side of his neck. eyelids sealed closed, chest heaving. you tilted your head, puzzled. worried. then the concert began, and you pushed the image to the back of your mind.
it returned to the forefront right before bed.
“you do it when you’re nervous?”
“yeah. forces me to ground myself. turns off the world for a bit.” the hand rubbing circles into your back paused. “wanna give it a go?”
“what, checking my pulse?”
“mine.”
you lifted your head off the pillow. felix took your hand from where it sat upon his ribs, isolating two fingers and nestling them over his jugular. his quickened heartbeat pressed into your skin like the world’s gentlest tattoo.
the sixty seconds began and concluded in total silence.
“well?” he whispered.
“ninety-three,” you answered, lightheaded from the sheer intimacy of it all. “you’re nervous right now?”
“something like that,” he hummed. pulled you down, kissed you deeply. there were no more words exchanged that night.
the habit surfaced more than you knew. while driving to visit your parents. after a stupid argument with a bouquet of flowers tucked beneath his free arm. you started doing it for him in the times he couldn’t, and he’d cover your hand with his own and kiss the top of your head silently, gratefully.
two years have passed since, and you’ve vanished from the dinner table.
felix asks the nearest waiter for directions to the restrooms. you don’t notice when the door swings open, unmoving in your spot over the sink, your pointer and middle finger pressed against the side of your neck.
his hand finds your hip. you let him turn you around and bring you to his chest; he glances at the crystalline droplets studding your lashes and falling from your cheeks. his eyes convey what his mouth doesn’t need to, not anymore.
let me.
you do.
his fingers replace yours the moment you drop them from under your jaw, the movement like clockwork. he counts your every heartbeat with unblinking concentration, his heart growing heavier the higher the number climbs.
the sixty seconds begin and conclude in total silence.
“well?” you whisper.
“hundred and six,” he answers. to his confusion, a smile pulls at your lips.
he wonders if it’s a trick of the bathroom lights when he sees the tiny box you pluck from your pocket, but there’s no mistaking the reality of the diamond ring that sits behind its open lid.
the earth slants under his feet.
“crazy.” you giggle through your tears, run your thumb over his cheekbone. “that’s how many years i want with you.”
seungmin + poking eyes(?) he’s hardly touched puppym when your voice is slicing through the living room air like a fucking beyblade.
“KIM SEUNGMIN, UNHAND HIM THIS INSTANT.”
do you have a sixth sense just for this? he throws his hands up in exasperation. “he’s literally me. i’m allowed to do whatever i want with me.”
“he’s not you, he’s our son.” you pop out of nowhere to swipe the plushie from over your boyfriend’s shoulder. “my son, if you keep this up.”
“just say you hate me and my preferred avenues of self expression.”
upside-down, he watches you dust off puppym’s face and smooch his forehead with a tenderness that makes seungmin unhappier than he lets on. you then tuck him into your jacket pocket. the little shit’s expression looks strangely smug poking out of its cotton capsule.
“i’m asking you to not gauge his eyes out, not to deliver me the holy grail,” you say. “you’ll survive.”
but then he feels your hands on either side of his face, and you lean over him like the mj to his peter, leave a kiss on the space between his eyes, too. he has zero say in the bashful smile this brings to his face.
“but why do you do that, seriously?” you mutter.
“i have no idea,” he replies. “but it’s fun. try it.”
“i’ll think about it.” you lean in again, and he nearly forgets what you were talking about in the first place when you kiss him on the lips this time. “okay, i’ve thought about it. no.”
“hate you,” he says despite the literal hearts in his eyes, and then you’re off to work.
puppym takes strikingly after his father. they have the same bangs. the same compulsively squeezable quality. the same little :3 that can only allude to sinister plottings. you’d be loath to admit that you sort of comprehend seungmin’s poking predisposition.
one night, seungmin falls asleep before you even finish your nighttime routine, and you spot in his peaceful, upturned face an opportunity.
you lie belly-down on your side of the bed. your fingers splay into a peace-sign in the air. your smile stretches further into a cheshire grin the closer you bring your hand. you’re just about to reach the ends of his eyelashes when—
“I KNEW IT!”
you almost catapult into the ceiling. then you try to make a mad dash for the bathroom. but seungmin shoots a hand around your wrist like he’s actually peter parker and pins you down before you so much as take a step. your only remaining option is to sulk about your foiled plans. (and blush, because, well, you’re under him.)
“amateur,” he tsks. “you gotta test my breathing to make sure i’m asleep first. shit’s foolproof.”
you blink at him for a few seconds. his words finally click.
now you almost catapult him into the ceiling.
“HOW MANY TIMES?”
jeongin + eating food in one bite. so you might be an instigator.
“hwuck,” he grumbles around the whole ice cream cone in his mouth, face scrunched up in a brain-freeze-induced wince. “ayee ith waz a bah iyeah.” (translation: fuck, maybe this was a bad idea.)
“you got this. just take it slow,” you urge, except he’s stopped moving and speaking and closed his eyes as if he’s descending into a deep sleep. you’re actually concerned for about two seconds, and then his jaw begins to oscillate leisurely like an elderly cow in his favorite pasture. false alarm.
after some time, he swallows, beams. “so am i the fucking best or what.”
“yeah you are,” you echo, and he swings an arm over your shoulder, plants a chocolatey kiss on your temple. the two of you celebrate his daesangs with less enthusiasm.
“when are you doing that with me, by the way?”
“the one-bite thing?” he nods. “mmm, coaches don’t play.”
“mmm, this one will.”
“doubtful.”
fast forward a few weeks and you, jeongin, and his younger brother are sitting cross-legged on the porch in his backyard. three full-sized oranges rest in the center of your makeshift circle. damn is yoon hard to say no to. (runs in the family.)
“the rules!” he declares. “eat the orange whole! first to swallow it wins! you can’t spit it out!”
you wait. “is that it?”
“yes!”
why was the delivery so grand?
jeongin places a fond hand atop his brother’s head. “i’ve brought you a new loser, yoonie. get excited.”
you feign an indifferent scoff, but jeongin spots the fire that ignites behind your eyes like that of an anime protagonist, the resolute grip with which you palm your orange. he smirks. he’s never known you to take trash talk sitting down. or sitting cross-legged on his porch.
yoon counts you off. “ready…”
“good luck, coach,” jeongin sings.
“shut up, pipsqueak.”
“set…GO!”
in amusing unison, you and yoon try and fail to fasten your teeth around even half of the fruit. jeongin, meanwhile, fits the whole thing into his black hole of an oral cavity and launches into that dumb cow impression again.
desperate times call for desperate measures.
you rip the orange from your lips. “yoon! your brother’s ticklish, right?”
both yang siblings’ eyes widen—the younger’s in growing delight, the older’s in impending horror.
the latter reacts first. “ay, ay, ay, ah ahes eh ooles!” (translation: wait, wait, wait, that’s against the rules!)
but the former moves first, and you’re right behind him.
jeongin weakens when the younger boy assaults his sides, crumples when you target the back of his neck, the sounds leaving his mouth getting progressively louder and somehow even less intelligible.
he eventually has to spit out the orange to avoid death by pulp going down the wrong pipe and spins around in indignation, wiping at his chin with the back of his hand. but his annoyance—
you’re back on the floor, gnawing hopelessly at the the orange again. “ih ih eawahin, ooh.” (translation: this is embarrassing, yoon.)
yoon replies, “huh?” (translation: huh?)
—dissipates, immediately.
🔖 (send an ask to be added)・@astraystayyh・@like-a-diamondinthesky・@fire-08・@starsandrqindrops・@txtxlz・@laylasbunbunny・@strayghibli・@nuronhe・@seungminsapuppy・@vivisoni・@skzms・@moon0fthenight・@sweetpickledjins・@svintsandghosts・@nhyunn ・@ur-boyfiend ・@liknws・@hotgorloikawa・@randomwimp ・ @automaticpersonabatpaper
© forlix (est. 090323) · liked this work? please consider reblogging, commenting, or sending me an ask to let me know; or, read my other writing here. thanks so much for the support!
#skz x reader#stray kids x reader#stray kids imagines#stray kids fluff#skz imagines#skz fluff#k-labels#stray kids scenarios#skz scenarios#bang chan x reader#lee know x reader#changbin x reader#hyunjin x reader#han jisung x reader#felix x reader#lee felix x reader#seungmin x reader#jeongin x reader#*writing#*headcanons
6K notes
·
View notes
Text
Lucifer x f!reader - Forced Proximity
PART II
PART I
This was supposed to come out at the weekend, but holy shit the previous part already has 1k likes so here you go a few days early.
This is just smut, no plot, you've been warned. Minors DNI.
Btw I'd love to hear your feedback! I'm not very experienced at this type of writing, so I'd love to know what you think!
(Srsly, thank you guys for the amount of love on the previous part, don't think I've ever had a piece of writing be so popular)
Tag list - @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx
--
"You know," You complain, letting him guide your face back down towards him, you prop your weight on your hands either side of his head, not allowing him to pull you into another kiss quite so soon. "you could've let him leave the door open. I'd quite like to be able to see you."
His free hand slides down from its place against your shoulder blade, and he hums contemplatively as it slowly trails down your spine, finally resting on your hip. His eyes are heavy-lidded, and he looks as though he's struggling to focus.
"You can look at me later." He tries to crane his neck upward, but you're determined and turn your head slightly, his lips only finding the corner of your mouth. He groans in frustration.
Realising you weren't going to kiss him any time soon, he presses his lips against the side of your throat, giggling into your skin when you gasp in surprise. He doesn't stop though, and you feel his fangs graze against your jugular teasingly.
"Are you not uncomfortable?" Both of his hands are now on your thighs, rocking you gently.
"God, no." He mumbles against your throat, too distracted with covering the areas of sparse unblemished skin he had glimpsed when the cupboard had been opened. "I'm very happy here."
"We could've gone somewhere with more room." Your eyes close, sinking into his touch as he peppers kisses along your collarbone. You start moving your hips lightly to join his movements. He exhales deeply, one palm pressing against the small of your back to press you down onto him.
"And where would we be?" His voice is quiet, husky, and muffled against your shoulder. The question was non-commital, not expecting you to answer.
"Your desk."
He inhales sharply and his claws dig into your thighs painfully, you feel him stop breathing beneath you. His lips detach from your neck and when you glance down his wide eyes are staring straight at you, suddenly far more alert.
"Y-You," His voice audibly cracks, mind reeling at the images that assaulted him. Images that he had been burying for the past several years. He almost feels sad; he definitely should've made a move sooner. You smile at how strained he is, voice an octave higher than it should've been. His trousers were suddenly painfully tight. "should stop talking."
"Flustered?" You hum cheekily, a hand resting against the side of his face, fingers carding through his disheveled locks as you lean impossibly closer, teasing him with a kiss. His head tilts with your hand hopelessly, and you watch his eyes flutter. Your lips graze against his own and a high-pitched pathetic little sound catches in his throat. Your lips ghost away from his own, across his cheek, and finally press firmly against the crook of his jaw.
"No." He breathes deeply, but his composure falters again when one of your hands slithers between your bodies, tugging gently at his belt. He was a bad liar. "But you keep talking like that-" He gasps, high and airy, as you slowly pull the zipper down his front, fingers grazing generously at the tent in his boxers. "and this'll end before it even begins." His voice pitches and warbles when you lick a line up from the hickey you had been leaving at the juncture between his throat and shoulder.
Your hand rests teasingly against his waistband, a finger slipping just below the hem and pulling playfully. He whines, a hand gripping your hair and pulling your face up to meet him. "Please," He gasps as another one of your fingers teases at the band of his boxers. You can feel his knees spread behind you, allowing room for you to press against his upper thighs. "kiss me."
He was staring at you desperately, the hand in your hair beckoning you closer, but not forcing. Oh how you wished you could see his expression, and you wanted to punish him for not allowing the door to remain open. You catch a glimpse of his furrowed brows, barely visible in the dim light that emanated from his big eyes, and you bite your lip thoughtfully.
"Sweetheart, I'll beg if you want." You didn't doubt it, leaving your fingers pressing against his quivering stomach.
"Next time," You instruct, and you can see the way his eyes flash red at the prospect before settling back to their amber hue. "I choose where, even if that means you have to wait."
"Anything." The word is half whispered, half mumbled against your lips as you finally lean down. He doesn't waste any time, hand gripping your hair tight and forcing you closer, guiding your head to tilt to the side and forcing your lips to open. His tongue snakes its way back into your mouth, and you have to grip his hair for stability, barely able to reciprocate the bruising force of the kiss, never mind keep up. He groans again at your fingers against his scalp, he hums something incoherent, and you're only allowed a second to gasp for breath before he's pulling you in again.
You were too distracted to notice the way his free hand slithered down your body, gracefully unbuttoning and unzipping your trousers. You were even too distracted to notice the way his fingers had pulled at your underwear, but you do notice when a cool finger presses exactly where you needed it to. You moan into his mouth, and you can feel his lips smile as he rubs a small tight circle over your bundle of nerves. "Luci." You whimper as he pulls back for a breath, your damp foreheads pressed together as you try and steady your heart. He pulls you back into a kiss, muffling a whimper when two of his fingers push deeper, gliding easily against your wet folds, pressing against your entrance as his palm rubs against your clit.
"This wet already for me?" He tries to sound seductive, but the breathlessness of his chest and panting of his breath betrays him. "I've barely touched you, love." A fingertip presses in lightly, and your legs spread wider invitingly, but he pulls back to circle two fingers against your peak. He swallows your whine with another breathless kiss.
You writhe on top of him, and his hips jerk involuntarily when you plead his name against his lips. One finger finally breaches your entrance, sliding in easily, and you rut against his hand to speed up the agonisingly slow pace he was taking.
Lucifer had been playing along, grinning against your lips and flexing his fingers enticingly, showing you what he could do but not quite giving you a pace that would accomplish anything. He glides a second up alongside his first finger, and his own moan catches in his throat at the way you tighten around him. You mewl at the pleasurable stretch. Truthfully, he had been thinking ever since you had made your comment about his desk, and the many ideas he had come up with on his own whilst sat there pining after you. He had an idea. He wasn't going to let you interrupt this plan.
His fingers suddenly pull away, leaving you empty and confused, chest heaving as you sit up, staring down at him.
"Off." He pats at your thighs, tugging at your trousers and shimmying them as far as they would go. The smile in his voice was palpable, but you didn't question his sudden giddiness, lifting your hips to help him. It was a little awkward with the small space you both had, but you eventually wiggle free of the tight garment, underwear following in a heap in the corner.
You sit back against him, completely bare on your lower half whilst your top still bunched around your elbows. You lower yourself all the way, folds pressing against the tent in his boxers and grinning wickedly. He doesn't react as you'd hoped though, staring up at you with large shining eyes, admiration in their depths, as well as something else you couldn't quite distinguish, something a little more, mischievous.
Without warning he thrusts his hips up, and you nearly crash into his chest at the sudden forceful jerk. His hands grasp your bare ass firmly, claws digging into the supple flesh. You're so impossibly close to his face you can just make out the grin adorning his features.
"What are you-" You go to sit back against his hips, but his hands stop you, forcing you up instead of down. His own breathing had picked up in anticipation. You hover above him, not sure what he wanted you to do.
"Come on, sweetheart." The words slip from his lips fast and energetic, and his strong arms pull you higher up his torso, now hovering above his sternum. "I promise it'll be worth it."
"Wha-" Realisation hits you like a freight train and your breath leaves you horribly quickly. You had never done this before, and you most definitely had never had someone excitedly trying to yank you up their body. "Luci- I-I don't-"
"Please?" He pleads, and you twitch when he turns his head to place a quick peck against the inside of your knee.
"You want to-?
He doesn't even let you finish. "Yes." His hands tug you closer, inch by inch, and you tentatively let yourself be risen. "I wasn't lying earlier; would've been on my knees for hours."
The way his voice had taken on a whiny pitch had you clenching around nothing in particular, struggling to believe such a powerful man was here, on his back, desperately trying to persuade you to- to- you couldn't fathom it.
"I've never done this before." You hesitate, your nerves growing in the pit of your stomach as you stare down at his bright eyes. If you could see anything in this darkness, you'd see his ear-splitting grin and the way his tongue flicked against his lips as he positioned you. You'd also notice the way his cheeks and chest had flushed feverishly once he had realised you were actually going to let him do this. Instead, you focussed unwaveringly on his bright eyes, which constantly flicked between your face and the growing heat between your thighs.
Something in his chest jumps, knowing he'd be the first to do this to you. His mounting resolve had just solidified, you were most definitely not getting out of this now. You hover direction above him and he places a clawed hand on either of your thighs, gently coaxing you down.
"Perfect," Some of his cocky self had come back now that he was finally getting what he wanted, and his hot breath fans across your thighs as you slowly lower down, your hands grasping the shelves above your head to stabilise yourself. "just let me take care of you."
You pause your decent when you feel his hair ticking at your thighs, and he takes the opportunity to turn his head slightly to the side, immediately pressing a hot open-mouthed kiss against your inner thigh. You gasp, fingers clenching around the shelf above you, as he sucks your skin into his mouth, teeth grazing over the sensitive skin. He hums, slowly licking and kissing his way towards your core. He presses a delicate kiss against your heat, and you automatically lurch upwards, but his grip around your thighs prevents you from moving at all.
You breathe deeply, and his eyes connect with yours, gently but forcefully pulling you closer.
"it's okay, sit."
You comply, albeit hesitantly, worrying for his head when he pulls you closer, your thighs flush against either side of his rosy face. You stare down at him, wide-eyed, as he stares back. Without warning another kiss presses against your folds, and you jerk again, but he had been anticipating it and his hands flex against you, rooting you in your spot and digging deliciously into the flesh of your upper thighs and hips. He kisses again, and again, each one lengthening and growing more sloppy. You pant above him and he watches your expression gleefully, finally suckling your little bud into his mouth. You jerk as he presses his forked tongue against your most sensitive spot, and a moan heaves from your chest when he grazes his teeth against you, lavishing that one particular spot with unfaltering enthusiasm.
Just as you begin to whine, hips twitching at the ministrations, he shifts lower, long tongue lolling from his mouth and licking a decisive stripe up against your entire length, parting your folds and gathering your juices on his tongue. You moan his name sinfully, and he whines, hips raising against nothing as his tongue finally delves its way into you, slithering inside your walls and licking up into your heat. You gasp in surprise: his tongue was long, sinfully so, and its forked edge delved deep as he explored.
His claws grip you tighter as you shift around, pinning your hips in place as his tongue presses against that special spot inside of you. You whine, and you can feel his teeth press against your opening as he grins, a mumbled "found it" lost against your damp flesh, tongue licking harder against that spot. His eyes close completely, brows furrowing as he concentrates, sinking into the floor and making sure to drag your hips down with him.
"Oh- Luci-" You gasp, fingers tightening against the shelf as he withdraws his tongue, sucking your clit back into his mouth like a man starved. He uses his forearms to make sure your hips stay down, hands coming to grasp the insides of your thighs and forcing them to stay apart as they threatened to twitch close. He hums against you, and the sounds of his lips against your core is downright sinful; you spread your thighs further and he groans when he realises he can reach more of you with his mouth.
"Yes, hngh, yes-" You moan, hips beginning to grind down to meet his tongue. "There-!"
"mhm" He hums in acknowledgement beneath you, grasp tightening on your thighs as he abuses your clit. His own chest was heaving as he worked, and his forehead creased as he concentrates, swirling his tongue in circles and sucking just the right amount before it became painful.
He cracks one eye open, suddenly incredibly aware of the lack of your hands against him, and he follows your twisting torso up, frowning at seeing you grip the shelving unit above his head. He doesn't stop, tongue continuing to lick its fiery trail against you, and his eye closes again as he lifts his hands from your thighs, travelling up the length of your body.
You shiver at the contact, head thrown back and eyes flickering wildly behind your eyes as you continued to grind down against him. You feel his hands travel up your shoulder blades, down your biceps, your forearms, coming to rest against your wrists with a tight grip. You allow him to pull your hands away from the shelf, and your eyes open as he draws them down to his hair, tugging them against the strands and tangling your fingers in his locks before his own claws are settling around your thighs again.
Had he just wanted you to touch him? You wonder, though it was hard to form a coherent thought as his tongue thrust into you. Experimentally, your fingers tighten against his blonde locks, and he moans hoarsely, teeth grazing your folds as he drags you impossibly closer.
This new position allowed to you to glance between your arms at his face, and you pause confused when no dim light meets you. Then, your core clenches as you realise what he was doing. You couldn't see his eyes. He had closed his eyes. The realisation has your own eyes rolling to the back of your head and your fingers tighten against his hair, pulling painfully at the roots. He whines, a high-pitched cracking groan, hips jerking up voluntarily.
He carries on working his tongue against you until you dissolve into a panting mess, sweat beading down your forehead as you hips jerk against his mouth, that familiar tight coil winding quickly in the pit of your stomach. You moan weakly as he continues to abuse your cunt, and the muscles in your thighs tighten as you feel that coil suddenly tighten to its capacity.
"Luci." You warn, hands tugging at his locks so tightly that he opens his eyes to gaze up at you, a bleary pair of ruby eyes looking up at you questioningly. "S-stop, I'm close."
"nuh-uh" He hums against you, eyes slipping closed as his hands fasten their hold around you. His tongue leaves your entrance, your clit once again finding itself in his mouth as he sucks harshly. You got the message: 'no chance'.
"Luci!" Your voice raises a pitch, and your hands pull so tightly against his scalp that it hurts; he whimpers, hips shifting as he continues his ruthless pace against your heat.
"W-wait, shit-" You gasp uselessly, teetering on the edge of losing complete control. Lucifer seems to realise, and he pulls out a move that he'd been saving. His mouth opens as wide as it would allow, and his tongue slithers out and into your folds, immediately pressing against your g-spot as his upper lip closes around your clit, working the small bud between his upper lip and the base of his tongue. The double stimulation has all air forced from your lungs, and it only takes one press of his tongue against your g-spot before your crashing down from that blissful tightness. Your toes curl as he licks against your spasming walls, claws lightly breaking your skin as he wrestles your thighs to stay apart. He moans into you and you see stars, hips faltering as you let him do as he pleases.
You can't form words as he guides you through your orgasm, body tight and hunched forward, his head grasped tightly between your hands as you moan and whimper. "God." You groan as he grazes his fangs against you clit, sparks shooting up your entire spine at the oversensitivity.
When it finally ends you slump forward tiredly, hands still knotted into his hair as he presses one last longing kiss against you. He guides you down his chest with his hands until you lay flat against his chest, breathing ragged and core fluttering as you try and regain your bearings.
"Good, sweetheart?" Lucifer hums against your temple, but you can hear the shit-eating grin in his breathy voice, and you just know the he knows he was good.
"Yes." You mutter, placing a kiss at the base of his throat as you breathe deeply, heart rate beginning to come back down. "Absolutely amazing, Luci."
You can feel him shift at the compliment, a breath catching in his throat, and you arch a brow inquisitively. You prop yourself back up, and immediately place your lips over his, kissing him deeply and taking him by surprise. You can feel the wetness that coated his chin and lips, and a hand against the side of his face tells you he was practically covered in you, the skin damp and warm beneath your touch. He grunts against your lips, returning the kiss with as much excitement.
"You were so good to me." You hush against his lips when you pull away, and you grin when his breath hitches and his pupils dilate. You had him.
"We can't leave you like this, can we? Not after you were so good." You grin more when he gulps, hands landing on your hips when you shimmy down his torso, pressing your soaking heat against his still clothed, painfully-hard erection.
"Am I that easy to read?" He questions through deep breaths, a hand tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear.
"Just to me. I did notice how you always got so flustered at compliments." You reveal, pressing a kiss to the corner of his mouth.
You turn awkwardly, straddling him backwards as you make quick work of his trousers and boxers. You tuck your hands into the waistband and gently tug down, unable to really see what you were doing so moving carefully not to accidentally hurt something. He lifts his hips to help you, and hisses when the cool cupboard air finally reaches his throbbing cock.
Unbeknownst to you, he had grown impatient as you struggled with his hips, and pushed himself up by his elbows to gain more access to you whilst you finished sorting his trousers. You feel him kissing the back of your thigh as you push them past his knees, and you have to force yourself to breath as you finish pulling them down to his ankles.
You pull away from his reaching hands which had tried to tug you back towards his face, swatting at him playfully as you turn and reposition yourself.
"Can't blame a guy for trying." You can hear his smile as he rests back, his hands sliding up your thighs and resting against your hips, thumbs pressing into the divot of your hipbone.
You could hear his deep puffs of breath in the darkness, still trying to recover from the energy he had used when treating you, and you decide that you wanted to work him up a bit more before you rewarded him in return.
"I really wish you'd let him leave the door open." You start complaining again, resting against his thighs instead of his hips, a hand running slowly down his sternum and tickling the sticky skin that quivered under your touch. "I want to see how pretty you look like this."
He stares at you from the darkness, utterly dumb-founded, mouth agape and his breath quickening.
"Trust me, I'm a mess." He forces out a nervous chuckle, but you can feel the way his fingers flex at the compliment, and your confidence only grows.
"I don't think so." You slide your palms up either of his sides, feeling the way his lungs expand as you slowly wind your arms behind his neck, drawing yourself down closer until you can feel his nose brush against your own. "I bet you look gorgeous. More handsome than you usually look, and I can barely keep my eyes off of you normally, you're just such a pretty boy."
"W-What?" He questions quietly, breathing deep when you tilt your head and kiss against the shell of his ear. His hands fall slack against your thighs, too enraptured by your words to bother to control your movements.
"Hmm," You hum, and your warm breath against his ear has him shivering. You kiss just beneath his ear, whispering huskily. "Such a handsome man. The most powerful man in Hell, and yet he's beneath me, eager to please, letting me do whatever I want, being so good."
His cheeks burst into a fiery red at your compliments whispered against the shell of his ear, chest almost caving in with the way he struggles for breath. All he can think of is you, all he can feel is you: your hands resting against his chest and against his throat, your lips and tongue peppering their way along his angular jaw, your hair brushing his forehead as you move closer.
Your hand sneaks down his chest lazily, finally grazing against his throbbing member resting heavy against his stomach. He stutters when your fingers graze against him, and you grin into the skin on his jaw when you feel how damp he is, pre-cum covering his length and puddling across his stomach. He was already fully mast, and you hadn't even had to touch him.
"Eager?" You question, hand finally wrapping around him as he pulls you in for a heated kiss, whining into your mouth when you give a leisurely stroke, thumb swiping across his slit. His hips jerk at the small action and he bites at your lips when you grip him firmer, pulling once, twice.
"You're the Devil." He gasps against your lips, tongue already flicking out to lick across your bottom lip, fully intending to pull you into another kiss.
"I think you'll find that's actually you."
You let him snake his way into your cavern, tongue filling your mouth as you shift your hips, stroking his cock agonisingly slowly, coaxing him into position without him even knowing. You take him by surprise when he feels his tip pressing against your opening, and his eyes shoot open with his tongue still mid-way towards your throat. You grin against his lips as you sink down, sheathing him in one steady rock of your hips. A pathetic little sound screeches in his throat, eyes screwing shut at the pleasurable pressure and hands regaining their death-like grip on your hips. He whimpers against your lips when you rock your hips again, beginning to set a slow, steady rhythm.
"Oh- oh, darling." He whines the pet-name through clenched teeth, hips jerking erratically as you try and find a rhythm.
You loved the little sounds he made, and you decide to let him know, carding a hand through his tussled locks, breathing against his lips. "Such pretty little noises."
You catch a glimpse of his eyes rolling back before they're hidden behind lilac-hued eyelids, a pitiful whimper rewarding your compliment, and his hips slowly begin to match your rhythm. You attempt to sit up, to really take control, but his hand at the crook of your neck prevents you from pulling too far away from him, and he grasps desperately when he realises your attempt to pull away. You could pull away if you really wanted to, plant your hands on his chest and begin setting the pace you wanted, but his needy little whines and the way he clung to your neck has you leaning forward and succumbing to the slow and steady rhythm.
It didn't take long for Lucifer to become a panting whimpering mess, not with the way your walls clung to him so achingly, hips rolling against him in such a deliciously delightful way, and lips meeting his own like an unholy prayer.
"C-close." He warns, gasping against your lips and continuing to raise his hips to meet yours. Both of his hands grasp your hips, but he allows you to set the pace, clinging on for stability more so than control.
"It's okay, Luci." You assure him, grinding harder as you edge him towards release.
"No." You feel him shake his head, hair swishing against your jaw as he licks and sucks at your throat. A hand leaves your hip and circles around to your front, thumb pressing harshly into your sensitive clit and circling it, hard. "'m not done with you yet."
You feel his thighs spread behind you, his feet planting firmly on the floor as he thrusts harder than before, pummelling that pleasant spot inside of you with renewed urgency. He was close; he couldn't cum before you did again.
"Luci," You gasp in surprise, hands fighting to find purchase and ultimately finding their way back into his hair. The rest of your sentence dies in your throat, his thumb circling harshly against your sensitive bundle of nerves, his cock drawing pleasure from the deepest parts within.
"Come on, sweetheart, please just one more. For me." His voice was a wreck, a plea muttered between gasps and chocked-back whimpers. It was the gentlest, and yet most sultry thing you had ever heard. His desperation was palpable, his throat tight, the muscles in his neck and chest rigid, his toes curling inside his shoes as he tried to fight back the pleasure rapidly building in his stomach.
"I-I-" You don't think you can until the very last second where his dick hits that deep spot inside of you in one particularly hard thrust, and then your vision blotches around the edges as pleasure sparks from the tips of your fingers all the way to the soles of your feet, your spine rigid and hips stuttering as you moan and pant. Your body shakes with pleasure, and Lucifer silences your cries of ecstasy with his lips sealing over yours, brows furrowing as he continues to rub tight little circles over the centre of your pleasure.
Your walls flutter and spasms around him, and Lucifer grunts and groans as he tries to fight back his own high, both hands falling back to your hips as he tries to concentrate, brows knitted together and mouthing thoughtlessly against your lips. You had no chance to recover from your own orgasm, his hips stuttering up into your with a frantic urgency, thrusts sloppy and out of rhythm. His resolve completely shatters when you decide to sink your teeth into his bottom lip, and then his voice is breaking and his hips are humping pathetically as his own orgasm crashes over him.
Some attempt at your name is whimpered against your rouge lips, his arms encircling your waist fully as he pumps into you once, twice, hard aborted thrusts attempted on shaking legs. When he's finally spent, with nothing more to give, he pulls away from your lips, forehead pressing heavily against your own as he gasps in a shuddering breath, panting pathetically and gazing at you with blurred eyes.
His arms don't fall from your waist as he sinks back into the cool ground, all muscles in his body lax, the aftershocks of pleasure thrumming through his weary muscles. You lay flat against his heaving chest, fighting to catch your own breath, beginning to feel the bruising muscle of your thighs, continuing to straddle him, neither one of you wanting to pull away.
"Sweetheart," His voice is rough, and he has to clear his throat before he continues. A hand slowly slides up and down your spine as he talks, clawed fingers gentle and delicate as you shiver at the sensation. "if I'm ever as dumb as I have been for the past six years, I want you to shoot me."
You giggle at how serious he sounds, tilting your head to look up at him. His eyes are upturned towards the ceiling.
"I mean it. Can't believe I waisted so much time with you because I was scared." He laughs around the last word, embarrassed and not quite believing his own sheer stupidity.
"You were scared?" You question quietly, a finger tracing an imaginary pattern against his side, your eyes closed to the world as you breathe deeply.
"Of course, look at you: you're so fun, so happy, absolutely perfect at everything you do. Hell, you even join in with my lame jokes and terrible dancing. You're too good to be true, especially down here."
"If it makes a difference, I could've acted, but I was scare too."
The cupboard falls into silence for a moment, nothing but the sounds of your slowing breathing filling the silence. His palms slide up your back slowly, claws grazing the skin lightly, teasingly, repeating the motion along the expanse of your back and hips, again and again.
"There's plenty of time to make up for lost time, we've got forever." You mumble against his chest, sighing as both of his hands massage over the bruises he had unwittingly left across your thighs. Your tone turns cheeky, and you pick your head up to look at him properly. "How long do you think we have left in here?"
He seems to take the hint, gaze snapping down towards you. You grin when you see his eyes brighten in the darkness. "Give me five minutes."
#hazbin hotel#Hazbin Hotel lucifer#Hazbin Hotel Lucifer x reader#Hazbin Hotel x reader#lucifer morningstar#lucifer x reader smut#lucifer x reader#lucifer#Hazbin Hotel smut#Hazbin Hotel x reader smut#Hazbin Hotel Lucifer x reader smut
3K notes
·
View notes
Text
Lollipop | Mattheo Riddle
summary: Mattheo always carry‘s around something sweet for you
warnings: cutie mattheo, mention of bj, finger sucking
Imagine Mattheo always has these little heart shaped lolly‘s with him to give them to you in every kind of scenario.
When you‘re nervous before a test he gives you one straight out of his pocket, pulling off the wrapper before handing it to you.
When you‘re rambling and even tho he finds it cute, you‘re distracting him from studying so he takes one out of his drawer and hands you it. You smile at him and put the heart shaped thing in your mouth as soon as you get the wrapper off.
When you‘re with him and his friends and he see‘s you‘re bored because currently they‘re talking about quidditsch, he pulls one out of his jacket, handing it to you with a kiss to your lips.
But sometimes you didn‘t get the wrapper off, trying and trying for yourself because you didn‘t want to bother mattheo anymore so you unintentionally start to sigh and groan as it gets useless. Mattheo of course notices and grins to himself as he sees you strzggling with it. "Need any help?" he ask with a cheeky smirk as you hand it to him. " sorry didn‘t want to bother you matty.." He grabs your chin and pulls you closer, ignoring the words coming out of his friends mouth to give you a hot kiss, hiss teeth tugging at your bottom lip for a second before whispering into your ear. "You‘re never bothering me princess." He then takes the wrapper off and looks at you again. "Open your mouth." he says in a calm voice. You do as he says and he lays it down on your tounge, still looking into your eyes while doing so and smirking again. "Good Girl."
But then one day you‘re sitting in the yard with Mattheo, nervous as hell before writing a important test. "I - I can‘t calm down, this is so important!" you ramble up and down, walking in circles almost. As Mattheo grabs into his pockets, his eyes go wide. "Shit." he mumbles to himself. "M-mattheo? Do you have a lolly for me?" Fuck. You ask him that for the first time from alone and exactly now he doesn‘t have one. Then an idea pops into his head. He bites his lip and shakes his head but pulls you into his lap and says "open up baby" he puts his face beside yours to look at you when he slowly pushes two fingers into your mouth. His eyes go wide when you don‘t hesitate to suck them. His lips part and a smile creeps up on them. "Oh baby wait until we‘re alone then you can suck on something bigger." Mattheo whispers against his neck and plants a kiss there. "Mattheo!" you giggle and slap his shoulder, but still continuing with sucking.
just a little something as I saw I didn‘t post anything in 5 days whoops – but anywaaaaays thank you for reading 🫶🏻
taglist: @sofa-couch26 @nevereverthem @little-miss-naill @kolsangel @itsarajr @jolly4holly @hisparentsgallerryy @slytherinscreamqueen @mixvchelle @littlemadamred @ummmmmmm-username @justarandomcanadiantransdude
xoxo sarah <3
#slytherin boys#slytherin imagine#slytherin smut#harry potter imagine#mattheo riddle masterlist#mattheo riddle blurb#mattheo riddle x you#mattheo riddle headcanon#mattheo riddle fluff#mattheo riddle imagine#mattheo riddle x reader#mattheo riddle#mattheo riddle smut
1K notes
·
View notes
Note
this might have to be more than one part, but can you please write a wrong number lando fic? like lando texts the wrong number somehow and they end up becoming good friends, they start falling for each other but lando lies about his identity the whole time until they meet or he tells the reader. and she’s pissed and she doesn’t know anything about f1 anyways so she doesn’t understand why he lied. with angst and stuff? idk if this is too specific or too much to ask!
Wrong Number, Right Person (LN4)
Summary: A wrong number leads Lando right to Y/n, but even the beautiful love they find together struggles to stand a chance against Lando’s lie of identity.
Warnings: none, BUT A HAPPY ENDING!!! Y/n’s bsf threatens to kill lando lol
Note: she is LONG! The word count is almost 9k oml but i have to say that @piastrification was a major help in making this because she read it for me and made it read less stupid! She also gave me some ideas so credit to her for that xx
If there was any moment where Y/n was beyond confused with absolutely no inkling of an answer, it was now. She stared down at her phone, clutching the device as she read over the message sitting on her Lock Screen over and over.
“What’s wrong?” Her best friend, Annie, asked. Her eyebrows were scrunched together in a way she had always done since they were kids, Y/n loved the way that had never changed. The two women had experienced so much growth over the years, but it was heartwarming to see some things hadn’t.
Her eyes flickered to Annie before turning her phone around, “Why does this person think I’m supposed to be meeting them in half an hour?”
Annie laughed out loud, taking the phone from the other girl’s hands and typing out a reply, “Seems like this poor person has the wrong number.”
When Y/n’s phone is returned to her grasp, she giggles at what Annie had done.
Unknown Number
Hey! Just letting you know I’ll be there in thirty minutes. Hope you aren’t running late like last time…
Y/n
Uh, I’m actually running really behind schedule. I won’t be able to get there until around three hours from now. Sorry.
The two girls continued their lunch, feeling a bit bad about messing with a stranger’s plans but laughing nonetheless. It wasn't until Y/n’s phone started blowing up that the color began to drain from their faces.
Unknown Number
WHAT? THREE HOURS????? WHAT?
Unknown Number
YOU’RE MESSING WITH ME RN
Unknown Number
If you don’t answer me in .5 seconds, I WILL show up to your house and wreck your shit
Unknown Number
LIKE WHAT? THREE HOURS? WE’VE HAD THESE PLANS FOR WEEKS MATE
Unknown Number
Literally answer me rn or I’m telling Oscar to help me plan your murder
Y/n’s hand clasped over her mouth as she frantically began to type out a reply, guilt settling over the amusement.
Y/n
You most definitely have the wrong number. Sorry, me and my friend thought it would be funny to tell you that your plans were basically ruined. Our bad. But, I have no idea who Oscar is and I pray for the person you are meaning to text rn. Plz don’t wreck their shit!
His response was immediate.
Unknown Number
Oh… sorry for my small outburst then. But, how am I meant to know this isn’t actually the person I’m trying to get a hold of?
Y/n laughed before Annie suggested taking a picture and sending it to the mysterious number. Probably stupid considering they had no idea who was on the other side of the phone, but an image was sent regardless.
Y/n
*Image Attached*
Y/n
I am most definitely not whoever you are trying to get a hold of.
The number doesn’t respond for a few minutes, busy for all they know or getting bored of texting a supposed stranger. However, her phone dings on the table and the two girls peek to see the response.
Unknown Number
Woah, you are for sure not who I am meant to be texting right now.
Unknown Number
You are very pretty tho
Y/n giggled,
Y/n
Thank you, but not thank you if you are an old man or serial killer. I don’t take compliments from psychos.
Unknown Number
Haha no I am not an old man or serial killer. I’m a child in a 24 year old man’s body.
Y/n
How do I know this for sure?
Unknown Number
Trust me?
Y/n
Okay, ig. What’s your name?
The food comes to the table and Annie begins to dig in, watching her best friend closely before the girl puts her phone down.
“He stopped responding. I asked for his name. Probably got scared or something.” She murmurs before cutting into her chicken. Annie nods her head side to side before they take up another topic of conversation, seemingly moving on from the previous random male who had interrupted their lunch.
However, there’s another vibration on the table ten minutes later. Y/n picks up her phone.
Unknown Number
Robert :) But, people call me Bob. What’s yours?
Y/n
I am going against everything my parents ever taught me by telling a stranger my name and what I look like… but I’m Y/n :)
Y/n
Btw bob sounds like a fake name that’s so funny
🏎️
The next day, Y/n wakes up to yet another message from Bob- who had begun to take up the majority of her text notifications’ real estate. She didn’t mind in the slightest, though. They got on like a house on fire, banter, jokes and conversation free-flowing at any given time.
Bob!
Good morning :)
Bob!
Wait, is it morning for you? Where do you even live?
Y/n
Okay, stalker. It’s literally 9 am, why am I already having to deal with a man trying to get my address.
Bob!
GIRL WHAT? That isn’t what i meant and you know it, Y/n
Y/n
Yes, i know what you meant, bob. I’m just joking lol
Y/n
I live in London! What about you?
Bob!
Monaco
Y/n
Shit, girl. You’re rich asf?
Bob!
NO nah nah nah. Y/n, I literally work as a server here. I enjoy the glamor tho
Y/n
Oh… so no diamond necklaces :( You could’ve been my sugar daddy, bob.
Bob!
😭
Y/n
No i joke I JOKE i can buy my own damn diamond necklaces
Bob!
Of course you can, Y/n. I’m not surprised.
Her heart warms at his portrayed support, and even though her bank account is in the negative, she likes to think Bob believes in her just as Annie does. Maybe he actually did.
She shakes her head at her thoughts. I’ve known him for a day, she thinks. He shouldn’t already mean this much to her. She doesn’t even know him.
Y/n
Ty, bob :) I have to go though. I have so much to get done today.
Bob!
Ok! text me when you’re free?
Y/n
yesss
—
There is a small void in Y/n’s body as she unlocks the front door of her apartment. A day of being broken down has taken its toll on her. Usually, it doesn’t get to her, the stress and pressure of it all, but today, as she flops down onto her ratty couch, part of her wants to give up.
Her phone buzzes underneath her leg.
Bob!
Are you free yet?? It’s been all day, y/n!!!
Y/n
sry, i just got home.
Bob!
Just now? Didn’t you leave at like 9:30 this morn??
Y/n
yeah
Bob!
Y/n, its 10:45 at night for you
Y/n
that would be correct… how did you know that?? Tracking my time zone, Robert?
Bob!
you might be scared to hear I have London saved on my world clock so I can see it at all times
Y/n
thats love fr
Y/n
but yeah its been a long day
Bob!
oh, well, im sorry :( how are you? Tired?
Y/n
Yeah, definitely. Just a hard day in general.
Bob!
Talk to me about it then <3
Her face blushes before the color is being forced back beneath her face. She doesn’t know this man enough to tell him all her sorrows. He’s just being nice.
Y/n
it’s ok. Thank you tho bob
Bob!
Who else are you planning to talk to abt it then?
Y/n
no one?
Bob!
you need to talk about it y/n to let it go. Talk to me.
Y/n
We barely know each other.
Bob!
Do i look like i care?
She laughs and types,
Y/n
Bob, I don’t even know what you look like
Bob!
We’ll fix that someday :) Now talk to me about everything
Y/n takes a breath before her fingers begin flying across the keyboard.
Y/n
People are just mean. I try so hard everyday to give my all and my best effort, to not let people down, but I seem to still do it. I can’t quite get things right and my boss is suffocating me with the way he looms over me like I can't hold my own. It makes me think I can't. There’s no room for mistakes or excuses, you have to be perfect in the office i work and i will never be that. There’s this other girl who holds my same position yet she does it so much better. I will never hold a candle to her and I know that. She’s everything I want to be because she accomplishes everything I can't. My boss knows it, everyone knows it, and it makes me feel like an outsider. I can’t share certain memories with these people or fit in quite right because I haven't been able to achieve the same success as they have. I know I’m just starting out and I have the rest of my life to surpass them, but what if I can't? What if I am never able to gain a good understanding and I am constantly behind?
There are tears pooling in her eyes as she relives the moments of her day when certain tasks were given to this girl she envies, Sam, while her boss gave her a look that had her close to quitting on the spot. Sam gets to revel in the future while Y/n stays in terror of it. A career path she has wanted all her life taunting her.
Bob!
I can relate to that. I can understand the feeling of seeing everyone around you get something you want so dearly while you share the same tools they do and yet you still come up empty. But I’ve also learned that good things come with time and we can’t always be yearning for something that isn’t meant to happen right now. What’s meant to happen will happen for you, I’m sure of it, Y/n. I know it’s hard to not be jealous or feel inadequate, but you just have to make peace with the fact that you try your best and that’s enough. You’re a good person, Y/n. All the good will come to you.
There’s something in his words that makes her feel heard and for once, Y/n finds peace in another’s reassurance. She doesn’t want to think about what that means toward who Bob is to her.
Y/n
Thank you. That means a lot.
Bob!
Of course. I wish I would’ve had someone telling me that when I was experiencing it.
Y/n
When were you experiencing it?
Bob!
A few years ago. But, that doesn’t matter.
Y/n
You’re always vague, bob. Give me something please? I’ve told you so much.
Bob!
There’s not much to tell, Y/n.
Y/n
You’re a server. Is that something you want to do for the rest of your life?
Bob!
I don’t know. I’m still figuring it out.
Y/n
VAGUE
Bob!
Ok, okkk!! I don’t want to be a server for the rest of my life. I think I’d like to work in Formula One. I’ve always loved racing and cars, the thrill of speed and all that. Trying to be Max Verstappen fs
Her eyes twinkle,
Y/n
Haha yeah right brotha
Y/n
That’s great tho! I think you’d be great in Formula One, Bob. I’ve heard of it but not a huge fan. It seems boring.
Bob!
Damn, shitting on my favorite thing… but thank you, Y/n. I think I’d be great too.
Y/n
You know i didn’t mean it that way!! What about your family?
Bob!
If you’re gonna ask me all these questions, should we just call?? Might be easier haha
She stares at his text for a moment, only a few seconds, before his contact name is large on her screen as his call awaits her answer. She clicks the green button and puts the phone to her ear, suddenly nervous to hear his voice for the first time.
“Y/n?” His deep, husky tone fills her ears and the truth of his identity begins to genuinely reign true. His voice is none of some old, slimy man. She could see it fitting someone younger, handsome even. Part of her even wants to say he sounds familiar.
She breathes, “Bob?”
There’s a silence that passes between them, a line crossed in the random relationship they’d surprisingly developed. Rustling sounds from Bob’s end, sheets moving before Y/n adds to the commotion, her heels falling to the floor once she pushes them off.
“Are you going to ask me about my family?” He asks, a hint of laughter in his voice.
Y/n giggles, “Tell me about your family, Bob.”
He lets out a small noise of confirmation, “Well, I have two sisters and a brother. A mom and dad. Still married. I don’t know, what do you want to know?”
The two laugh together at his sudden loss of words before Y/n speaks, “Uh, tell me about your parents. Any crazy love stories in the family?”
“No, they got together relatively normal. They’ve been together since they were younger and they’re still in love to this day. They set up a great example for me.”
Y/n rises from her couch, putting Bob on speaker, and moving into her bedroom to get ready for the end of the night. His voice echoes off the walls of the glistening white walls of her bathroom as she asks him more questions about his siblings and relatives. The way he speaks so highly of them makes the pull to him she feels stronger. Something about him seems too good to be true, but she wouldn’t say that out loud. She believes too much in the power of a jinx.
Bob somehow changes the conversation to her, asking her further about her job and her worries. It’s scary how easy it feels to open up to him, things she had a hard time even telling Annie. Maybe it’s the anonymity of him, the elusiveness of the man she truly doesn’t know. However, none of that matters wholly as she lays in bed, eyes trained on the fan above going in circles as she talks about insecurities she’s had since she was a kid.
“It’s hard to know what traits you truly hold, you know? I can be the sweetest to one person, but horribly mean to another. I don’t want people to think I’m armed with ill intent. Sometimes things just don’t come out the way I want.” She whispers, arms sitting heavy over her stomach.
Bob sighs, “It’s scary how much we share in common. I’ve felt that way too many times before. You can never be too careful with your words and it just hits so hard when people don’t understand who you truly are at your core. If they did, they wouldn’t think I was saying something with malice.”
She smiles to herself. It’s as if he lives in her head. “I don’t think you’d mean anything malicious, Bob.”
He chuckles, “I don’t think you’d mean anything malicious either, Y/n.”
The quietness of her name on his lips brings her closer to sleep and it’s the way he begins to ramble about how much he loves to talk to her that sends her over the edge, a warmness accompanying her body to sleep.
Bob keeps talking for a few minutes before her silence is deafening and he realizes what’s happened. Still, he talks, traumas and all, because something about knowing she’s there makes him not want to hang up.
🏎️
“So, you’ve been talking to this guy for how long?” Annie questions, her eyebrows pulled together just as they always have while she stares bewilderedly at Y/n.
“Three weeks,” She replies, a message from Bob appearing on her screen just as they utter his name.
Annie stares at her, “And you don’t know what he looks like?”
Y/n shakes her head lightly, “No…”
Annie scoffs, “Y/n! That’s so stupid! He could be stalking you for all we know!”
“No! He’s not stalking me, Annie. I think I know him now, really. In the beginning, no, but we call all the time and we talk about anything and everything. He’s sweet and he’s everything I’ve ever been looking for in a guy.” Y/n is quick to defend, her phone in her hands as Bob calls her.
Annie glances down to the ringing phone, “Is that him?”
Her challenging look makes Y/n nod slowly. Annie lurches forward and Y/n yelps just as her best friend yanks the phone out of her hands and answers the call.
“ANNIE!” Y/n yells, grasping for the phone while Annie just moves away.
Bob’s voice meets Annie’s ears, “Y/n?”
“This is Annie, Y/n’s best friend. I’d like to know your address and full name, seeing as my beloved friend has not gotten that information yet.” She demands, eyes glancing toward Y/n as she awaits the man’s answer.
Bob stutters, “Uh, my name is Robert Dancing. I live in Monaco.”
Annie shakes her head, “No, I’m talking address. Like, 12345 Hemingway Street.”
Bob laughs, “Can I just talk to Y/n?” There’s a hint of anxiousness in his voice that sends Annie into a manic spiral.
“No, tell me where you live.” She fires back.
“Annie!” Y/n tries again, grabbing onto Annie’s sweatshirt to pull her closer. When she’s within reach, Y/n reaches for the phone and snatches it back, much to Annie’s dismay.
Y/n apologizes, “Bob, I’m so sorry. Annie’s a little insane.”
He laughs and it lingers around her heart, “It’s okay. Just call me later, yeah?”
She nods and murmurs confirmation before hanging up. She turns to look at her best friend, a rare moment of betrayal. “Why would you do that?” She asks, annoyance radiating off of her.
Annie crosses her arms, “Because, Y/n! You don’t know this man.”
Y/n groans, “Yes, I do! Also, getting to know him by demanding his address seems satisfactory to you?”
“You’re being stupid, Y/n! I’m just looking out for you!” She raises her voice, anger getting in the way of truly getting her point across.
Y/n shakes her head, “Looking out for me would be trusting me when I ask that of you! You just completely went against everything I asked of you! I asked for support, not outraged behavior!”
Annie’s face drops, “You don’t get it! Y/n, you do not know this man! You didn’t even know his last name until I asked for you yet you’ve apparently told him all of your secrets?!”
Y/n begins to pack her purse in a moment of fury, “No, Annie, you don’t get it!”
As she stands at the cusp of the front door, Annie yells back at her, “Stop falling in love with someone you can’t trust!”
Y/n closes the door shut, a huff coming from her lips as she storms down the stairs, tears down her face. To have her best friend question her judgment regarding someone who means so much to her hurts immensely. Though, what hurts worse is knowing she might be right.
—
Max almost looks perplexed when Lando hangs up the phone.
“Robert Dancing? What the hell kind of name is that?” He teases, a patronizing tone.
Lando shakes his head, “I didn’t know what else to say! Dancing was the first thing that came to my head!”
Max crosses his arms over his chest, “Are you ever planning on telling this woman who you really are?”
Lando’s mouth opens and falls closed, at a loss for words, “I don’t know. I want to, but I know she’ll run. I don’t blame her. I’ve lied about fundamental things.” There’s a crease in his forehead as he continues, “I can’t lose her. I’m too addicted to the way she makes me feel.”
Max sighs, “I hate to say it, but you might, Lan. You told her you were a completely different person, betrayed her trust in an insane way. You’ve got something special, that counts for something, but you need to be prepared for the possibility of her never being able to find it in herself to forgive you. I don’t want you to get your hopes up and get hurt.”
“I won’t. I know the risks of what I’ve done, but I can’t take it back now. I just need to find the time to tell her. I will tell her and I’ll do it in a coherent, calm way.” He tries, but the two of them know he’s already gotten his hopes up. Max looks at him with faux confidence, knowing Lando’s found himself with someone it’ll cut deep to let go of.
Lando knows it too, knows the kind of pain that’ll shred through him if she leaves because of his mistake. It’s ironic in the way that a lie, one so unnecessary, is the thing that plagues his mind at night even as Y/n’s voice puts him to sleep.
🏎️
There’s a nagging in Y/n’s brain that pushes her to get out from under the covers of her bed and find her desk in the dark of the night. She sits in the chair with a creak before opening her laptop and the random browser she’s had tabs open in for days on end.
Her fingers however over the keys before typing in a dreaded question of truth.
“Robert Dancing.” She whispers as she presses enter and the screen begins to load. Her stomach churns and her eyes whip away, too scared to look. What would she do if nothing came up? What if Annie was right? What if Bob wasn’t who she thought he was after all?
But, then, his voice calls her back to the safety of her blind trust as it rings throughout her brain. He seems too nice to be what Annie had thought him to be. Bob is who she thinks he is, he has to be.
Her gaze takes one more look at the picture of her and Annie on her nightstand before she turns her head fully to find out her fate.
A blank screen with the haunting words, “Sorry, we couldn’t find what you were looking for.” stares back at her. For a moment, she thinks she must’ve spelled his name wrong and she tries multiple, very clearly wrong, versions of what his name could be in an attempt to console the last of hope dwindling out of her body.
Bob. A name in her mouth that now means nothing takes on what she had originally thought it had been. A fake name.
This can’t be, she thinks. There has to be some logical explanation. But, then again, Robert Dancing is not a typical name, something should come up for a server who lives in Monaco. A link to his social media would’ve shown. He’s young and living in Europe, there would be a trace of him.
Robert Dancing does not exist.
🏎️
Unknown
Y/n, you never called me back. Is everything okay?
Y/n
Everything is fine.
Unknown
Can I call you now?
Y/n
I’m busy.
Unknown
It’s been three days and I haven’t heard from you at all. Seriously, are you okay?
Unknown
Y/n, answer me. What’s going on?
Y/n
Stop messaging me.
Her body jolts in surprise when her phone rings aggressively against the desk at her work. She looks around sheepishly at her staring coworkers before grabbing the loud device and walking outside. The moment the door shuts behind her, she answers.
Bob speaks so quickly, “Y/n, what’s going on?”
She stares at the skyline, trying to find peace in the view, “What’s your name?”
Bob is quiet, “Robert Dancing. You know this.”
“No, I don’t. What’s your name?” She tries again, anger in her voice and sadness deep in her soul.
“Bob.” He states, breaking her heart once more.
Y/n scoffs, “I know that’s not your name. If you don’t start telling me the truth right now, I will hang up and block you.”
A door closes on his side and she hears him take a breath, “Okay, okay. Don’t do that. How’d you find out?”
A dry laugh leaves her mouth, mixed with astonishment, “Do you think I’m stupid?! You gave me what was supposed to be your full name, so I searched you up. Choose a name that actually comes up next time, yeah?”
“Y/n, I’m so sorry. You told me you would never think I meant malice by my actions. That should apply here.” He tries, but she just shakes her head.
“That was back when I thought I knew at least your name. Who ever are you? Do you even live in Monaco? Was any of it true?” She cries, somewhat surprised at the tears that have appeared.
He sounds disappointed, “Yes, it all was. I do live in Monaco and I have three other siblings. My parents are still married. All the things I told you were true, my doubts and insecurities. That wasn’t fake, Y/n.”
She pulls herself together, not ready to break down for a man so cruel, and wipes her tears, “What’s your name?”
“Y/n, I-”
She interrupts, determined, “What’s your name?”
A build up manifests from the silence he lets go on before he answers her dying question, “Lando Norris.”
Part of her was expecting him to say a name she would’ve recognized, but no part of her has any reaction to him. His name is just another one she wished to have been able to connect to another human being.
He takes her silence for realization and his body slumps against the wall behind him. Part of him knows she won’t, but another part worries she’ll take their situation and everything he’s told her to the press.
What she says next completely contradicts everything he built up in his head, “You act like that’s supposed to mean anything to me.”
With that, she hangs up the phone.
—
Annie and Y/n haven’t spoken since their fight a week ago, but the betrayal of it is pushed aside when Annie opens the door to find Y/n crying at her door.
No words are shared, Annie understands, and Y/n is ushered into the home, coaxed by her best friend to sit on the couch.
“What happened?” She whispers, her hand rubbing over Y/n’s back. Annie hates to see her best friend in such brokenness, even in a moment where she could tell her I told you so. That would do no one good, Annie knows that. Y/n doesn’t need to be proven wrong right now, she needs someone to sit with her when no one else seemingly won’t.
A sharp intake of breath and Y/n speaks, “He wasn’t who he said he was. Robert Dancing doesn’t exist. His actual name is Lando Norris. As if that means anything. Why would he lie?”
Annie cocks her head because it doesn’t make sense. Why would he lie? Lying about your life to make it seem more interesting than it was would make sense, but to blatantly lie completely about your identity? That didn’t make sense.
“Have you searched him up? Maybe it’s supposed to mean something?” She tries, genuinely lost at the situation.
Y/n shakes her head, tears falling to her lap as she hangs her head, “If I do and I see him, I don’t want to know. I already like him too much and that makes this hurt more than it should. If I see him, learn who he truly is, I’m scared I’ll never be able to let him go.”
Annie frowns, part of her wants to know about the man that put her friend in such a state. But, it’s not what Y/n needs as she cries on the beige couch. Her head fits in the crook of Annie’s shoulder as the girl turns on mindless TV for her friend.
Still, though, Annie knew she would find herself investigating Lando Norris later when Y/n fell asleep.
—
It’s ironic how similar Y/n and Annie look when they scour the internet for information about a specific man. Annie has a bit of blanket pulled over her lap as Y/n hogs the majority of it, the rise and fall of her chest a telltale sign of needed slumber.
The face of Lando Norris stares back at her as she tries to think of this man calling her best friend at night, asking questions no one has before. He seemed bubbly in the few moments she spoke to him and when she clicks on a video of him in an interview, she knows immediately it's him. His voice is distinct as it speaks through a clear microphone. There were no lies in his second confession to Y/n.
From what she can tell, he’s a beloved member of the Formula One community, a sport she had never truly looked into because she assumed it was overrated. So, did Y/n. The off chance that Lando texted a random person and found something more with them, he lucked out that that someone was clueless when it came to the sport that made him famous.
Her breathing stops when she finds a video that titles Lando’s supposed telling of a woman he’s taken a liking to. The date of the video tells her it’s within the time frame of him and Y/n.
She glances at her sleeping best friend before clicking the link, his smiling face large on her screen.
Lando’s giggle is sweet, “Yeah, I guess you could say I’ve found someone. Or, at least, have a crush. This girl and I are definitely not official, but there’s something there, I think we can both feel it. I’ve never felt so free with someone.”
The reporter, out of view from the watcher, coos, “That’s great, Lando! What’s her name?”
Lando gives the man a warning glance as he states authoritatively, “I won’t be handing that information right now.”
He clutches the microphone and Annie can see the way his body shifts with protectiveness. If anything, this is exactly the kind of way she had always wanted Y/n to be treated. Protected and cherished. From what she could gather, from the deepdive of articles and the stories Y/n had told, Lando did just that.
Her heart aches. A stupid man tried to protect himself whilst falling in love with a woman that never even knew who he was. They were never even given a chance.
Somehow, in a black out of pure sadness for Y/n who had always yearned to be adored in this way, Annie found herself buying a ticket to the next Grand Prix, Silverstone of all places.
With a crappy seat and no plan or guarantee of finding him, Annie knew she had to find Lando. She had to fight for something that wasn’t even hers.
🏎️
The commotion of fans surrounding the entrance to the paddock puts Annie on edge, not to mention the size of the crowd. She thought she got here early, wanting to be at the front so she could try and talk to him, but as she sees the large amount of people between her and the path where the drivers walk, hope diminishes. Still, she pushes through everyone, apologizing when she gets dirty looks. She knows how bad this looks, how much this most likely goes against common courtesy at races such as these. The face of Y/n with bloodshot eyes and a puffy face forces her to persevere, her best friend deserves someone like Lando.
She’s halfway through the crowd when it roars to life, screams emitting as people begin to stick McLaren hats and posters in the air. From the sliver of light she can see through some bodies, Annie watches Lando begin to walk through. He stops to sign for some fans and she pushes more forcefully, knowing this is her only chance.
He moves through it all with grace, but a certain speed that makes her heart pick up. He’s at the front of the crowd, about to step into the paddock and be lost completely to her when she yells, “Lando! It’s Annie!”
It’s the first thing that she can think of, hoping he’ll be reminded of Y/n’s voice when she tried to cover for her best friend’s moment of protection. Annie watches him pause, turn around slowly, as his eyes roam over the sea of people. He locks eyes with her as she waves her arms in the air, something passes between them and he begins running toward her. A connection to the woman he let down, one he hadn’t stopped thinking of in the weeks she had left him.
When he reaches her, Lando is stunned by her presence. “You’re Annie? Like Y/n’s Annie?” He whispers, the people around her screaming for his signature as she nods her head.
“Y/n’s Annie.” He looks to be fighting tears as he ushers a security guard over. “I need you to escort her into the paddock, to my driver’s room.”
The large man nods and Lando walks off, nodding at Annie gratefully. Once he’s gone from the premises, the guard moves the rope keeping people from bombarding the drivers up and lets her through.
The walk to wherever Lando had ordered is quiet as Annie takes in the money that surrounds her. People with Cartier jewelry and Birkens waltz around with an air to them that allows Annie to suddenly understand Lando. This is what he was afraid of. A greedy woman who would take advantage of the status he had and lie to him to get to his money and the money around him. While she understood, however, she still felt angry at his deceiving. Y/n was never given the benefit of the doubt.
The guard knocks on Lando’s door and it swings open, his sunken face coming into view and in the new light, Annie can see the love that Lando had found in her best friend. The effect of her leaving him is seen all over his body and from what she could gather during her time looking into him, he wasn’t doing as well as he usually had during races.
He motions for her to come in and when she does, the door closed, he begins talking, “Did Y/n send you here? Is she here? Can I talk to her? Does she want to see me? Is she forgiving me? Are you-”
Her heart breaks as she interrupts him and his quick anticipation of a reconciliation is crushed, “None of that is true. I’m here on my own terms. Y/n doesn’t know I’m here. At this point in time, she doesn’t want to see you, but I think that’s the shock of finding out about you.. That will wear off eventually. She’s hurt, Lando, but I also know she hates not talking to you. She hasn’t stopped talking about you. And I can’t stand to know that you two found something she’s always deserved, but let it slip away because of fears and betrayals.”
He sits opposite of her, staring at her and trying to find the answers he wants to hear in her eyes. He never does.
Lando rubs his palms over his eyes, “I never even got her last name. There was no way for me to find her.”
“Y/n Y/l/n.”
He lifts his head slowly, “What?”
At the look in his eyes, Annie smiles, “Y/n Y/l/n. That’s her last name. Actually, her full name, I guess.”
A small grin finds its way to Lando’s face and the way he touches his mouth lightly makes her think he hasn’t smiled in a while. “Y/n Y/l/n,” He whispers, smile widening as it all falls from his lips.
He’s even in love with her name, Annie thinks.
“Can you take me to her? I would like to be given the opportunity to fight for her.” He asks hesitantly, as if Annie hasn’t made it abundantly clear that she is here to help.
She nods, “I will tell you where to meet her, but first, I need you to tell me everything from the beginning, from your perspective.”
Lando’s head hangs and he begins, hands wringing together in his lap, “When I first texted her, I thought she was my friend, Daniel.”
“Daniel Ricciardo?” She asks, clarification needed for this story.
Lando’s eyebrows rise, “You know the sport?”
She shakes her head, “No, both Y/n and I never got into it because we didn’t think it was that exciting - sorry - but, I basically learned everything about your life and Formula One when Y/n told me your name.”
He nods and continues, “Well, yes, I thought she was Daniel Ricciardo, we were supposed to be meeting for lunch that day to just catch up before starting the new season. Well, as it turns out, he had changed his phone number over break because it leaked and never told anyone that he wasn’t needing to contact immediately during that time. I assume Y/n must’ve gotten a new number around the time because she got his.”
Annie thinks back before realizing Y/n had shattered her phone in the weeks before and ended up getting an entire new cell phone profile. New number, email, everything. She had said she liked the clean slate.
At her nodding, Lando talks once more, “When she sent me the picture of her, I immediately thought she was one of the most beautiful people I had ever seen in my entire life. That’s cliche, but it’s true. She’s still so beautiful to me. Um,” He shakes his head, tears having pooled in his eyes at the mention of her beauty, “I knew I wanted to keep talking to her, see where it went because I couldn’t just stop talking to her and never knew what could’ve been. So, I made a quick, impulsive decision. I lied about who I was because I just wanted her to treat me normally. I had no idea who she was or her morals, I couldn’t guarantee that she would treat me like everyone else. Obviously, when I learned of who she was and the deep parts of her that no one else got to see, I wanted to change it all. I wanted to tell her so many times who I was and what I wanted with her, what I saw with her, but I knew if I did, I would just lose her. So, I tried to find ways to keep talking to her, but also slowly introduce the truth. Clearly, I never found a way. When you called me, demanding my address and full name I panicked and didn’t think about what would happen if I said what was supposed to be my full name. You’re very scary, you know.” He chuckles, Annie does with him, “So, it all fell from there. She found out Robert Dancing was something entirely fabricated and she called me, telling me to tell her the truth. I was backed into a corner and everything I wanted, I needed, left me. That moment is ingrained in my brain.”
He breathes slowly, his eyes still on his hands, before whispering, “I miss her.”
Annie nods, “I know. So does she. That’s why you need to go to this address,” She hands him a small paper, “Meet her there on Monday at 7 PM, come prepared to tell her all of that and more.”
He clutches the paper like it’s his last lifeline and Annie smiles at how important Y/n is to him.
Lando glances up at her, “What do you mean by more?”
Annie continues to smile lightly, “That you love her. That you need her. That you’re sorry. Lando, remind her of what you two had.”
🏎️
The small apartment complex is daunting to Lando as he stands in front of it. Annie never told him where he was going or what he would be met with, but considering he’s here to see Y/n, he can only assume the building he stares at is her home. His anxiety only spikes. He does not want to mess up again. He doesn’t want to taint her home with even more pain, he thinks to himself, images of himself groveling and begging for her forgiveness flashing in his mind’s eye.
Nonetheless, he knows if he backs out, Annie would find his address this time and physically harm him.
So, the boy walks to the gate and rings her neighbor, following Annie’s instructions closely. He remembered how she told him if he rang Y/n, she wouldn’t let him in, being stubborn and all. Though, if he rang the neighbor, an older woman Annie called Lo, he had a chance.
“Hello? I’m here to see Y/n.” He said into the rusty speaker, a questionable smell infiltrating his nose.
A crackling sound emits from it before Lo is speaking back to him, “Are you Robert Dancing? Annie told me you would be coming.”
Lando laughs at the name, his random ideas being the reason for it, and murmurs a yes to her. She doesn’t say anything back, just a loud buzzing noise that tells him the door is unlocked.
When he walks through, part of him groans at the lack of an elevator. For an athlete, the man is lazy.
Thus, he begins his scale to the top floor, cursing himself for falling in love with someone who lives so high up.
He’s almost completely lost to his thoughts that he doesn’t realize Y/n’s door stands in his way once his feet hit the doormat. It dawns on him the time has come to meet her in person, having never before. It should be studied, he thinks, how he’s fallen in love with her without ever truly seeing her.
He knocks on the door, not wasting time before he truly aborts whatever mission he’s found himself on. And his heart soars when he hears her yell, “Coming!”
He’s only ever heard it over the phone. To hear it feet away from him is almost as exciting as the idea of her forgiving him.
The door unlocks and pulls open, revealing Y/n in a matching set of pajamas that he remembers her texting him about, asking if they were a stupid purchase or not. He told her to get them, she told him probably not, that she was poor, but she still had.
Her eyes land on him and he’s ready for whatever screaming he’s about to endure, but she just smiles at him.
“Hi! Can I help you with anything?” She acts as if she doesn’t recognize him and Lando realizes she doesn’t. Annie had mentioned something about Y/n becoming disinterested in seeing who he truly was, out of fear of becoming too attached. His mind must’ve not genuinely absorbed that information because he only understands it now.
She doesn’t know who he is.
He could do the same thing he had before, lie and tell her he’s someone else. Take the safer option and secure her love, but he takes a breath instead and remembers all Annie had told him. He’d already put her through so much, to do it again would be cruel.
“Y/n, I’m Lando.” He says while he watches her face fall.
Her hands fly to the door, about to slam it on his face, but he sticks his foot in right before she can. The impact hurts, but he continues with what he had practiced so many times on the way here.
“Please, Y/n, just hear me out.” He pleads as her cheeks fill with red. He’s almost sure it isn’t a blush.
“How’d you even get my address?” She says, astonished at who stands before her. Her eyes fall over his body, trying to understand the information. Who he is, what he wants.
“Annie.” He whispers, knowing her confusion will only heighten more.
Her mouth falls open and she yells, “ANNIE?!”
What he believes to be Lo, pops out from her behind her door at the yelling and Lando lowers his head.
“Can I come in? We shouldn’t have this conversation in the hallway of your complex.” He rubs a hand over the back of his neck, hoping she’ll agree. When she does, opening the door for him slowly, he flies forward. While he was ecstatic to be given another chance, he still fears for his image and what would be speculated about a seemingly heated conversation between him and another woman.
She guides him to the couch and they sit down. A familiar creak sounds that reminds him of the ones he would hear when they got into deep conversation during their nighttime calls. The image of her on the phone with him, concentration on her face as she listened to whatever he was revealing and getting comfortable on her sofa, makes him smile softly.
“Bo- I mean, Lando, you need to start talking. I don’t have all the time in the world to listen.” She gives, her tone ice cold. However, the break in it when she realizes she’s said his former, fake name makes the anger he felt over his lies further. He wants her to say his name, the real one. He wants her to say it with love and excitement, not distance. He wants her and his name on her lips.
“I never meant to hurt you. Actually, what I did was in an attempt to shield myself from any kind of bad faith. I didn’t expect to develop what he did. I didn’t even expect to open up to you in the way I did. I thought I could make a friend, one who didn’t know who I was and didn’t have any kind of bias toward me. I’ve always wanted that with someone, especially a partner. I saw an opportunity and I took it, not thinking through it all and I hurt you in the process. I’m so sorry, Y/n. From the moment we started truly talking, calling and all, I knew I had messed up, but I never found a way to tell you. Well, a way to tell you that wouldn’t result in you getting rid of me. I wish I could take it all back, but not you. Not what I got to experience with you, what I felt with you. You’re my favorite memory and you’ll never understand how grateful I am for you. You helped me through bad races even when you didn’t know, helped me through weird press interactions when you didn’t know. I loved that. I loved how at peace you made me feel. I can’t let this go without knowing I gave it everything I have and when Annie showed up at Silverstone, telling me I had to fight for you, I took whatever she had to give.”
Y/n stares at him, trying to digest it all, and murmurs, “Annie went to Silverstone?”
He chuckles lightly, “Yes, she came and she told me who she was, what she was doing there. She told me she knew what we had and she didn’t want you to lose something you’ve always deserved. She gave me this address and told me to come here at this time, told me to buzz Lo instead of you so I could come in. She told me I needed to remind you of what we had.”
Y/n goes red again, blushing this time. She smiles at the idea of Annie going to great lengths just to make her happy, “Annie sounds determined.”
Lando smiles along with her, “She was. She told me if I didn’t fight for you, she’d find me and kill me. She’s really scary, Y/n.”
Their eyes meet and Y/n is reminded of what once was, the way he made her feel. She misses him and knowing the intricate shade of brown in his eyes doesn’t help how much she wants to shut him out.
“I understand why you did what you did, but that doesn’t make it any better. You could’ve given up everything you were saying at any point in time and you didn’t. You only told me when I confronted you with it.” She whispers, disappointment evident in her voice. She plays with her fingers and Lando is close to taking them in his hand.
He nods, “I get that. But, I was scared to tell you because I was just so in love with you. I still am.”
Her eyes snap to his and a moment passes before she asks, “Still am? You love me?”
His cheeks turn cherry tomato, “Yes, of course, I am. The moment I realized you were safe enough to open up to, knowing my identity or not, I was in love with you.”
She groans and lets her face fall to her palms, “But, I’m in love with you too.”
He laughs and shakes his head, “Why is that a bad thing?”
Her eyes peek from over her hands, “Because I want to hate you.”
Finally, his fingers lace with hers as he brings them away from her face, “But, you love me. Isn’t that enough?”
She knows it is. He knows it is. Annie knows it is, even if she isn’t there. It’s a matter of if Y/n can put aside the grand web of lies he put together to let them have their shot at something that could be wonderful. In the warmth of his presence, she thinks she can.
🏎️
Y/n
Can you stop blowing up my phone
Bob <3
Why????? I’m bored baby
Y/n
im at work girly
Bob <3
girly 🤭🫶🏻🤗 plz go out to the balcony and answer me
Y/n
I think you might be obsessed with me
Bob <3
i made an alter ego so i could talk to you didn’t i?
Y/n
girl
She picks up his call as she closes the door behind her, the new office building she’s in allowing for a wider view of London. The new team she works with is less competitive than the last and their support is proving beneficial with the news she got today.
“My beloved girlfriend, are you free for lunch today?” Lando giggles into the speaker like the lovesick man he is. Y/n can hear Oscar make fun of him in the background.
She smiles, “I thought you were bored?”
“Yes, so now I’m asking if you want to have lunch with me” He answers as if it’s obvious. In the months after the soft moment shared between Lando and Y/n on her old couch, they’ve found something more than love between them. Lando says it’s destiny and Y/n says it’s a soulmate tie, but they agree that the love they once shared over the phone only grew once in person.
Y/n chuckles at his antics, “Sure, I will have lunch with you, Lan. Can you come pick me up though? I don’t want to drive.”
Lando makes a noise, “What did you think I was going to do? Make you drive yourself? No way. There’s one person in this relationship that drives cars professionally and it’s not you, sweetheart. Sorry to break it to you.”
Oliver, her coworker, comes to the door, asking for her assistance on something with a smile. She tells him she’ll be a minute and he nods, retreating back into the office quietly, “Sorry, my love. I need to go. But, you’ll be here when?”
Lando hums, “An hour?”
“Perfect! Oh, and, Lando?” She asks, her voice filled with joy as he responds, “You’ll have to come to the Junior VP’s office to pick me up.”
Silence is met with her sentence before Lando whispers, “Either I’m stupid and you have some big project I forgot about or you’re trying to tell me something that will actually make me lose my mind and sanity right now.”
She laughs loudly, “I got Junior VP, Lan. Youngest one yet.”
He shrieks, momentarily making Y/n go deaf, before screaming to everyone around him about his girlfriend’s achievement, “I’m so proud of you, baby! Oh my god! I’m so happy! We need to buy champagne! You can have your own podium moment! Holy shit, I’m so proud!”
“I would love that, Lan. Thank you. I love you.” She whispers the last part softly, three words that mean so much.
He’ll never get tired of hearing her speak of her love for him, “I love you too, Y/n.”
She’d never get tired of saying it.
#mclaren#f1 x reader#f1 imagine#f1 fanfic#f1 fic#lando norris x reader#lando norris imagine#lando norris fanfic#lando norris fluff#lando norris imagines#lando norris edit#lando imagine#lando norris#lando norris x you#lando norris smut#lando norris fanfiction#ln4#ln4 x reader#ln4 imagine#ln4 fic#ln4 x y/n#ln4 fluff#ln4 x you
1K notes
·
View notes
Note
Thank you for letting me know:) Could you (if you get the chance) please write Grumpy Rafe x a like really sweet, shy, adorable like innocent reader? But like he finds her really cute? Could be anything else you want! I just like grumpy x sunshine :)
hey babe! Sorry this took me so long to get to, I hope u like! This is my fav rafe trope
“This is such bullshit.” Rafe grumbles.
Of course his plans had been derailed. Big empty house, summertime, pretty girl to himself, of course his friends dragged him away.
Your head peeks from the bathroom wall. “Hm?” It struggles out, your lips coated in toothpaste, your mouth occupied with a dangling toothbrush. You look so cute in your little outfit, he feels guilty for wanting you to get back into your pajamas. To forget your friends ever texted you at 9:30pm on a Saturday with Drinks? ;)
His hand waves in the air dismissively. “Nothing.”
You nod, slipping back into the bathroom to finish your tasks.
He rifles through his drawers messily, unsure of what he’s actually looking for. “Goddamn Kelce.” He mutters, quieter than last time. “Goddamn Topper.”
He can’t believe his perfect plans have been ruined, can’t believe he’ll have to share you. His head shakes in disbelief as he quits with the drawer, moving to wait for you by his bed. He cannot go out tonight.
You pop out of the bathroom, toothpaste replaced by a softer, pinker, shine to your lips. Rafe represses the urge to thumb at it as you walk over to wrap your arms around him tightly. Ear pressed to the warmth of his shirt covered chest, you can hear the aggravated thump to his heart.
“M’sorry.” You mumble.
He pulls back until your face is in view. His fingers work to smooth a piece of your hair. “For what?”
You lean into the touch. “I know you didn’t want to go out tonight.”
Oh. He can’t hide the distain crumpling his features. “No,” he grumbles. “I don’t.”
You smile weakly. “But we‘ll have fun.”
“You will.”
“Not if you’re miserable.”
He sighs, greatly heavy, shaking his head. “I won’t be miserable.”
“Really?”
“Yeah,” His eyes roll. “as long as you sit on my lap.”
He nearly preens at the sound of your laugh. “I don’t think the bar stools are big enough for lap siting, baby.”
He deflates dramatically, his head falling to your shoulder. “Than what is the point.”
You smile, though he doesn’t see, his eyes hidden in the softness of your dresses sleeve. “Getting some drinks with friends who wanna catch up.” Your hand comes up to scratch his scalp the way he likes. He does preen this time.
He’s silent, breathing in the scent of the moisturizer he’d bought you last week. He grumbles incoherently.
“Me too.” You nod. You feel him grin against your shoulder.
Lifting his head, he ducks down, eye level with you. “Let’s just stay home, baby.” He whispers, nosing at yours.
Your eyes flutter, the hopes of a kiss working it’s way in. “You know we can’t do that.”
He sighs softly into you. “Why not?”
“Because,” You start with a pout, your hands sliding from where they rest on his waist, up onto his warm grumpy cheeks. “You haven’t seen Top in a month,” his nose twitches. “and he misses you.”
“Please don’t bring up Topper when I want to kiss you.”
You laugh, warm and syrupy, flushing at the insinuation of kissing. “I get a kiss?”
“You always get a kiss.” He breezes, leaning down to press his lips to yours.
It’s soft and sticky, a string of your pinky lipgloss connecting you two obscenely when you’re the one to pull back.
“R’you wearing the sticky stuff?” He murmurs.
“Yes,” you nod quietly. “It lasts longer.”
“So I’m gonna have pink shit all over my lips for the next thirty minutes?”
“No,” You giggle quietly. “a wet cloth will do the trick.”
“In that case.” He shrugs, leaning down to reward your lips with three rapid kisses before a fourth, longer, softer kiss.
You stifle a smile when he pulls back. “What?” He grins.
“Your lips are all sticky.” Your thumb wipes some shine from the corner of mouth. He puckers his lips.
“Maybe it’ll make me as pretty as you.”
Your nose wrinkles at his corniness.
“Or maybe I need more.” He leans in.
You push his face away from yours. “I can’t kiss you when you’re like this.”
“Lovely?” He murmurs. “The nicest boyfriend ever?”
“Corny.” You laugh at his offended expression, shrieking when he tackles you to the bed. “You maniac!”
He pulls your hair from your eyes, the gesture softer than your loud shriek moments before. It’s quiet as you breathe in tandem. His eyes rake over you appreciatively, and something in your belly twists for another kiss.
“I think” he starts,dropping his face down to nose at your collarbone. “I wanna kiss you again.”
Your eyes droop, the warmth of his body and love seeping into you. “I think” you start like him, murmuring into his ear. His ear tickles from the warm air. “I wanna stay home.”
“I did it!” He pops up, his arms caging you in.
Your chest rises in rapid giggles. “Shut up!”
#rafe cameron#rafe cameron x pogue!reader#rafe cameron x y/n#rafe cameron x kook!reader#rafe cameron x reader#rafe cameron x you#rafe x reader#rafe cameron imagine#rafe fanfiction#rafe x you#rafe imagine#rafe x y/n#rafe fluff#rafe outer banks#rafe cameron blurb#rafe cameron x female reader#rafe cameron x reader fluff
4K notes
·
View notes
Text
Seven Minutes
luke castellan x reader
A/N: i was so excited to write this request as soon as i saw it so i hope you enjoy!
TW: smut, luke being a cocky little shit
word count: 1,172 words
Playing seven minutes in heaven is not an appealing idea to you. You don’t like the idea of being trapped in a closet with a guy who isn’t of your choosing and it isn’t some stupid kissing game that’s over in a second, but there is sadly no saying no to Silena Beauregard. Your friend is literally the embodiment of an Aphrodite child with her ability to persuade. For gods’ sake she actually has the word ‘beautiful’ in her name and everyone knows that someone with such a likeness to the love goddess isn’t someone that can be refused.
“There’s going to be lots of good looking people there I promise… Charlie, Clarisse… Luke.” Silena murmurs the last name.
“What?” You’re clearly pissed. She can hear it in your tone.
“What do you mean ‘what’?” She asks innocently.
“What was the last name you just said?”
“Oh, nothing. I was just listing people at camp who are objectively attractive.”
“Just objectively attractive or objectively attractive and playing seven minutes in heaven tonight?” You ask, giving her a pointed look.
“The second one.” She replies quietly.
“I’m not going if Luke is going to be there.” You tell her petulantly, stopping in your tracks like you’re going to turn around and head back to your cabin.
“So you did hear me.”
“I’m not going.” You start to walk back but she grabs your wrist.
“Yes you are!”
“I’m not. I hate him. I want him dead. I pray for his downfall on every quest he goes on.”
“All I can hear is that you spend a lot of time thinking about him.”
“Silena!”
“I’m sorry but if you think about it, all this hatred could just be pent up sexual frustration.”
“It’s not.”
“It could be!” She realizes that she isn’t anywhere close to getting through to you so she holds both your hands in hers. “Please just come. The bottle most likely won’t even land on him anyway. Just think about it as a fun night.”
“Fun night my ass.” You grumble but turn around and begin to walk back to the Aphrodite cabin. Silena giggles excitedly.
When you walk in, almost everyone of the older campers in Silena’s friend group are already there. Your eyes fall on Luke first and he gives you an annoying little smirk.
“Okay, now that everyone important is here…” Silena smiles before sitting down. Clarisse hands her an empty beer bottle. “I’ll go first.” She spins the bottle and grins when it lands on Charles. If your eyes aren’t deceiving you, you could swear Clarisse’s face drops for a millisecond.
The person next to Charles goes next, and then Clarisse goes and now, it’s your turn. You’re not really sure how it’s your turn already, but you aren’t about to argue with Silena over the spinning order. You look at Luke before you spin and he gives you another cocky smirk. You try to ignore him and spin the bottle, doing it perhaps a touch too hard because it goes in circles forever. When the bottle slows, it is clearly about to stop on some Apollo kid before it shifts a little more and lands on Luke.
What the fuck?
He looks away from a son of Boreas to you. “Up you get then, princess.” He stands.
You look at Silena with ‘help me’ eyes but she shrugs with a guilty grin. So now you’re walking over to Luke. He holds out a hand so he can lead you to the closet but you slap it away as you pass him. He turns on a dim light as you enter and shuts the door behind him.
“Look at my luck.” He says in a suave tone, holding his hands out like it was the gods’ bidding.
“Did you really bribe a wind god kid so that the bottle would land on you?”
“Perceptive.” He comments. “I was just lucky that I happened to be sitting North of you. So maybe it is the gods’ will.”
“You think it’s the gods will that we fuck in this closet?” You scoff.
“You said it, baby not me.” His right hand falls to your waist, gripping at your love handles. “But sadly, we don’t have enough time for me to fuck you properly.”
“Get your hands off me.” Your gaze is filled with a lot of passion. Whether that passion is lust or hate, he isn’t sure.
“Make me.”
When you don’t make him take his hands off you (which you most could) he takes that as a sign that you want him just as much as he wants you, so he pulls you in for a rough kiss. You hate how you kiss him back, whimpering into his mouth when you feel his hand slip up your thigh to rub you through your jeans. He slips his tongue into your mouth as he begins to make quick work of your zipper. Luke tugs your jeans down and chuckles at the sight of your lacy panties.
“Were you planning on getting screwed tonight or is this just coincidence?”
“Shut up.” You murmur before forcing your mouth back against his.
He rubs you through your panties for a second but you both know you’re short on time so he slips them to the side, sliding his fingers through your arousal.
“Gods, you’re so wet.” He whispers into your mouth before plunging two fingers inside of you, curling them in just the right spot. You whine softly, pissed at how good he is at touching you. He leans his head down and begins to kiss your neck. He suckles on the same spot for about a minute so he leaves a deep red mark. “Oops, left a little colour.”
“Luke!” You scold quietly and he begins to rub your clit with his thumb so you can’t think straight enough to say anything else.
“Just have to let people know who’s girl you are, princess.” He starts rubbing your clit a little harder. “Who’s girl are you?”
You’re feeling so good and you’re so close to your peak that you moan out, “Your girl.”
“That’s right. Cum on my fingers, baby.” He demands and you do right away, squeezing around his fingers as you get your release. “You better get dressed.” He says as he checks his watch. “You’ve got about 12 seconds before they open that door.”
He’s clearly amused as you struggle to get your pants back on in time but that doesn’t mean you don’t notice as he licks your cum off his fingers, moaning just a little bit.
“Times up, lovebirds.” One of the other Aphrodite girls says as she swings open the door.
You walk out as soon as she does and you don’t make eye contact with anyone as you storm out of the cabin.
“We’re done with the game for today.” Luke says cockily as he quickly grabs both your jackets and chases you out the door for round two.
Silena grins. “I knew it.”
taglist (comment to be added): General: @valeskafics @urmomsgirlfriend1 @girlwith-thepearlearring @darylandbethfanforever9 @lovellies @juhdoche @papichulo120627 @watercolorskyy @ophelialaufey @aerangi @ravenclawprincess33
Luke Castellan: @amortencjja @urmomsbananabread @kissingyourgrl @vikimontethegirlblogger @maryann2013 @stark-head @remussbitch @ever8ea @batmandabest @jennapancake @junos-web @tanifsblog @stupidtween
#luke castellan#luke castellan smut#luke castellan x reader#percy jackson#percy jackson fic#pjo series#pjo x reader#percy jackon and the olympians
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
𝐅𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐥𝐲 𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 ⊹ ִֶָ
𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘, in which you invite the boys over to sesh with you but nate can’t go a day without turning something into a competition
𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆, sub!reader x dom!nate x dom!chris x dom!matt, poc!reader
𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐒, SMUT! oral sex (female receiving), overstimulation, foursome, fratboy!chris, asshole!nate, loverboy!matt, whoring
𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓, 3.2k
𝙨𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙚𝙧 𝙮𝙖𝙥𝙥𝙨!
rude chris makes me foam at the mouth like a fucking dog omggg give me 5 minutes with that man😭
i know im a little late but i didn’t want to give you guys half assed writing so i took my time enjoy lovesss
▐ ❝ 𝐒𝐎 𝐖𝐇𝐎 𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐒 𝐏𝐔𝐒𝐒𝐘 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐒𝐓 ❞
˚𓍢ִ໋🌷͙֒✧˚.🎀༘⋆
little feet tapping sounded over the wooden floor from your constant scurrying around in your california penthouse. you made sure that everything was nice and put away before turning off your main light and switched to the colorful ambient lighting. the sun was just starting to set, casting a nice ray of gold where you would be lounging soon, now waiting for your new friends: matt, chris, and nate to arrive.
you were a freshman attending the university of southern california for business, a native utahan, fairly new to la and desperate for friends. nate had saw you walking around campus and in a couple of his classes but didn’t pay any mind to it, that is until he caught you hitting your pen outside of the lecture hall before class.
“yo, can i hit that?”
his thick accent took you by surprise, ‘he’s definitely from up north’ you thought to yourself. you analyzed his character before moving forward with the interaction. nate had nice even features, pretty blue eyes and thick brows, not entirely sure due to them being scrunched a little. he wore a black snap back and a bright grin as he waited for you to hopefully grant him permission.
“for sure”
a couple weeks later the two of you would make it a habit to get high by the small pond on campus, talking about your lives away and prior to college, you guys bonded well together. soon you were upgraded from a school friend to a friend, friend, progressing the two of you to go to dinner after late classes, study sessions, you’d even made out a few times although just brushed it off, blaming it on the cannabis.
it wasn’t till two weeks before today when you met some of his closest friends. they were triplets, which was a little strange but cool at the same time. the first hangout with you and your new friends went better than okay hence you’d been hanging out with them everyday up to this one.
your body jolted at the sudden banging at your door. you made a quick stop in your room sliding on your slippers. “i’m coming”
the banging, only got louder the longer you took causing you to hurry to the door. “oh my god, i’m coming” you shouted again and dragged out the ‘g’ in ‘coming’.
the door finally opened revealing three immature boys giggling at god knows what. rolling your eyes you leaned on the door frame, “i said i was coming” the boys giggled again, this time a lot harder.
nate was the first one to pull you into a hug with hands resting on your lower back. “yeah we heard”
you also let out a small giggle and mushed his head into your house. you moved on to greet matt and chris next, pulling both boys into a hug at once. you hooked each arm around their necks causing your cleavage to be present right in their faces. pulling away you were met with shit eating grins, “hey” they both said in unison.
you walked further in the house with chris behind you and matt following after locking the door. nate had already made himself at home, kicking off his shoes and already claimed his spot on the lovesac near the cracked window.
while you watched the boys get settled you noticed they were missing one. “wait where the fuck is nick?”
“he’ll be here a little later, he’s out with madi” matt informed.
“oh there won’t be shit left for him” you chuckled out as you walked to your room again, retrieving your box of weed and papers along with a few of your essentials, then going to sit between matt and nate then placing the box down in the middle of the small circle that’d formed. the boys looked at the baby pink box with stickers of hello kitty and hearts scattered on it and laughed. chris picked up the pink rolling papers decorated with strawberries and matt picked the pink grinder. nate shook his head while laughing at his friends holding your belongings in the air.
“if your gonna’ laugh at my shit y’all don’t have to smoke” you rolled your eyes and snatched the grinder from matt. their laughter started to died down and you began to break up the bud into the container.
“who’s gonna’ roll?” you asked, looking around for who would be kinda enough to do you the favor and to no surprise matt was the only one to volunteer.
“i got you” he reached for the grounded up weed in your hand until his was swatted away by nate’s
“she can roll it herself matt, she’s a big girl” nate smirked at you while you sent an ‘annoyed’ glare at him.
“you’re so strange nathan” nate held his hands up in defense. “we’re your guest”
“yeah, show us how it’s done” chris butted in, staring at you with darker eyes than normal.
one thing you’ve noticed about nate was once he was under the influence he would get really flirty and you’d have a feeling he was already. chris didn’t really have an explanation, he was just naturally a horny person, in fact the first thing he said to you was a dirty joke when you met.
you began to roll the first blunt while six pairs of eyes were fixed on you making butterflies stir in your stomach, being careful not to mess up in front of them. it was one thing to have people stare at you while you tried to concentrate on something but you couldn’t go a minute without locking with a pair of blue orbs, each of them filled with hunger. you were now at the step where you brought the blunt up to your glossed lips, slowly licking a strip of the paper then folding and sealing it.
you heard a shuffle to the right of you, making you look to matt and notice that he had an pillow over his lap. you only chuckled and went back to sparking the freshly rolled joint then taking a long drag and passing it off to nate.
“took you long enough” chris teased you while it was nate’s turn to take a hit from the joint. you blew your smoke directly in chris’ face. “maybe you should’ve done it then”
“watching you lick all over the wood was worth the wait” chris laughed out as the rest of the boys joined in again, causing you to smack your teeth. “nate, skip him”
the rotation carried on for about four more blunts. your living room was fogged up and the sun was fully at rest and replaced with millions of tiny stars and everyone was for sure feeling it. chris and nate would not stop talking about the most random shit, literally just pulling things to say out of their asses while you and matt were on the chiller side but still engaging in conversation with your head laying on the pillow still in matt’s lap and your legs over nate’s who’d gotten a little jealous at how comfortably you lounged on matt.
you began tuning out the chatter and thought about this moment in your life. you’d never imagined yourself in la, surrounded by gorgeous men, drugs and good music, you felt like this wasn’t real life, like this was a dream and you’re enjoying every part of it.
“y/n, out of all of us who would you fuck?” nate dropped his hand to your leg that sat on his lap and gently rubbed it. matt’s fingers that’d been fidgeting in your curls fell as you lifted your head up to look at nate, his question catching you way off guard.
“woah what, did i miss something?”
“just answer the question, it’s me right?” chris crossed his arms and manspread in the second lovesac across from the couch you and matt were on.
“bro y/n/n would fuck me in a heart beat, tell em’” nate shook your legs a little.
“nate, your like three feet tall, she doesn’t want to fuck you i promise” you, matt, and chris cackled at nate’s offense to matt’s comment.
“doesn’t matter, what i’m lacking in height, i’m packing in length, can you say the same?” nate shot back at matt.
“not gone’ lie i would respectfully fuck all of you” there was a quick pause, shocking the boys (not really), hell shocking yourself, but everyone was having fun and getting really touchy so you thought ‘why not throw it out there’.
“bet i could make you cum the fastest though” nate wore a cocky grin and his hand on your thigh rose higher and higher.
“no fucking shot” chris argued.
“nah you gotta specify, there’s lots of ways you could get her to cum” matt added.
“if im fucking her i’ll give it maybe eight minutes, six if i’m raw doggin’ it” the boys debated like you weren’t even there, discussing all the ways they would make you cum and at what speed. you shifted in your spot and squeeze legs together at the heat pooling between them.
“i could definitely have her squirting by just sucking on her clit in four” they used such vulgar language and talked about such intimate acts like a group project. you were in complete heat, needing someone now, anyone.
“you good over there y/n/n?” chris asked you with a similar smirk to nate’s. he looked so good right now, all of them did.
“yeah, i’m fine”
“you think you can help us settle this, beautiful?” nate finished chris’ thought. the sexual tension in the room was now very high and everyone seemed eager for your response. thinking about this logically you knew that the boys were pretty good people and they weren’t the type of guys to record or do anything without your consent, you hoped.
“fuck it”
matt’s eyes looked as if they could pop out of his head. “are you serious right now? there’s no pressure or anything”
“matt shut the fuck up, she gave us her answer” chris jumped up after ashing the blunt and setting it aside.
“perfect” nate push your legs off of his lap and stood in front of you while you got up from your spot as well. nate started by pulling your shorts down and spreading your legs. “keep ‘em’ just like that for me” he whisper to you then took a step back
“damn, yo come look, she’s fuckin’ soaked” nate waves matt and chris over to get a good look at your dripping cunt while you could do nothing but giggle at the feeling of your head spinning, still violently high.
“oh shit, no panties either? good girl” chris looked up at you through his lashes then back to your heat and slid his fingers around your pussy, gathering all your juices and spreading it around your bundle of nerves, earning some whimpers in the process and you clench around nothing, already missing his touch.
“aw, she’s so needy” matt mumbled as he lifted your shirt over your head and unclipped your bra. you were now completely exposed in front of the window that overlooked the city and your chest heaved at the torture of them making you wait.
“wait we need a blind fold or something, i’ll be back” matt disappeared into your room for what felt like a lifetime after coming back with the satin scarf you used to protect your hair at night. he gently covered your eyes with the scarf and tied it behind your head.
“that too tight for you?” you mumbled a quick no and prayed that’d would be your last question before one of them would make a move.
“ready?” you didn’t know who that came from but you were so fed up by now that you didn’t even care. “yes, please”
with no warning you felt a tongue meet your core and repeatedly flick your clit, bringing soft moans out of you in an instant and your hands clinging to their hair.
cold hands were brought to either side of your lips, spreading them open, allowing room for his tongue to devour your walls while you could also feel hands groping and messaging on your tits and kisses on your neck, being hit with so much pleasure at once.
the point of their nose bumped against you while his tongue lapped up your slick and applied more pressure. you threw your head back and your legs started to tremble as you whined through your pleasure.
“time, time” you heard chris say before who had to be nate’s tongue pulling away from you. you remember that matt wore rings today, definitely looking forward to that.
“look bro, what’d i tell you” the three boys watched as you squirmed, whined, and clenched at the unwanted emptiness. a thick stream of cum began to pour out of you and you flinched at nate’s fingers stretching your folds back out, showcasing your pink pussy.
“so fucking pretty, good job baby” nate placed one last kiss to you core. you heard him shuffle from his knees and be replaced with a new pair. you had a feeling it was chris’ turn once a thumb messaged your clit and a tongue plunged beep in your core. your arm flung to the back of the couch as you squealed from just coming down from your orgasm.
“ughh, fuck” your words slurred out, stroking chris’ ego. he removes his thumb from your clit and stretched his arm to your chest, toying with your right nipple while another hand toyed with your left one. your breath got caught in your throat causing you to choke out a series of moans as chris slurped up your arousal.
chris’ mouth detached from you, “she came, gimme that” he hurriedly spat out to matt and nate, leading him to pause the timer.
“shit, three minutes” nate and chris laughed as they dapped each other up then did the same with matt. “not yet tho, matt about to go”
“you just told her, fucking idiot” chris chuckled as mat began to crouch between your legs.
“no i can’t do it” you whined and squeezed your legs shut. “s’ too much”
nate huffed and brushed the stray curls on your forehead back. “yes you can baby, you got it”
“i don’t have to, if you can’t handle it, okay sweetheart” matt comforts your strained leg muscles by pulling them back to the ground and rubbing your knee, still shaking from your pervious releases.
“matt she’s fine, go ahead” nate waved you off once he decided you had enough time to rest.
“i’m not touching her if she’s doesn’t want me to”
chris dramatically huffed at the stand still they were in. “bro, common, you want to be the only one to not make her cum, like a little bitch? that’s fucking embarrassing matt”
“shut the fuck” nate raised his tone, not wanting the brothers to start an argument while your bare ass was out. “she never said that” nate turned back to you as you’re just now catching your breath. “you still want matt too don’t cha’ sweetheart?” the words rolled off of his tongue so smoothly and it was like his voice scratched your brain so nicely and who were you to be the buzzkill, you’d all probably just laugh about it in the future anyways.
“mhm”
“you can do a little better than that mama” chris whispered and kissed behind your right ear while nate did the same on the other. their actions alone made you wet all over again and matt’s gaze sent tingles to your heat.
“matt, please i need you so bad”
“yea that’s what we like to hear, now you wanna’ show matt that pretty pussy of yours” nate pried a hand between the gap of your thighs and you allowed him to do so. your mind was so clouded that nothing mattered anymore, you wanted them to use you however they wanted and for as long as they wanted.
“hold her leg chris”
a small smile formed at your lips once matt enclosed his soft lips around your bud and sucked gently before he added two fingers in your hole, making you gasp from the ice-like cold of the rings.
“mmh” you vocally moaned moving your hands up to grab the boys heads on either side of you as matt left nasty open mouthed kisses on your cunt. the cold metal against your pussy and your legs being restrained brought to your attention that the boys were revealing kinks you’ve never cared to explored before.
matt pulled his fingers from you and replaced them with his mouth, making obsessive slurping sounds and lapping his tongue occasionally as you poured out into him. “fuck matt right there, yes”
both arms unhooked from nate and chris’ heads to hold matt’s down, scared of the euphoric feeling leaving you at any moment now. matt had gained some confidence, getting faster and sloppier, you offering pornogrphic moans to fill the boys ears. you gasped once more at the sudden hand rubbing circles on your clit, chris, followed by a mouth sucking on your tits again, which had to be nate, you’d peeped him staring at them all night. your back arched off the couch and your painted toes curled up in the air as you let out another overstimulated squeal, your high hitting you hard are and your cum dripping down matts throat and chin.
nate and chris unrestrained you, granting you the vision you wish so badly to have during the acts. matt remained kneeled between your legs and everyone seemed to take a moment of silence to really grasp the reality of what just happened.
“that was so fuckin’ sexy y/n/n” nate complimented, creating an domino effect of the three boys praising you while scattering to find your clothes and get towels for the cleanup. you were back to being a giggling mess with flushed cheeks.
chris went to wipe you off. “so who eats pussy the best?”
you stopped to think and you honestly couldn’t choose. everything was a blur, you just sat there and enjoyed the solid they did for you, all for the fun of it. “all of you were amazing”
“bullshit” nate came back with some snacks and water bottles for all of you then grabbing the remote from the coffee table.
“im being so serious, i felt like i was in heaven the whole time” giggled before looking at the boys who surrounded your couch with you in the middle. “matt did get the best reaction though”
matt raised both hands up in victory with a mouth full of water.
“he went over five minutes that’s not fair, i want a rematch” chris refused like a child. you four cuddled up in a blanket as each of you drifted off the sleep to pirates of the caribbean playing in that back ground and highs coming down.
“was nick ever coming?” you looked to your left seeing chris and matt passed out, then to the right, nate also being passed out.
𝙩𝙖𝙜𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩!- @worldlxvlys @ariieeesworld @muwapsturniolo @esioleren @sturn59 @junnniiieee07 @iluvmattyb @kriissy4gov @patscorner @imsosillygoofylol @sturncakez @sturnzsblog @mattslolita
#chris sturniolo x reader#matt sturniolo x reader#chris sturniolo#black writers#nathan doe x reader#chris sturniolo x black reader#summersover#chris sturniolo smut#sturniolo triplets#x black reader#nathan doe#sturniolo smut
1K notes
·
View notes
Text
seven minutes in heaven.
a/n: pure self indulgent smut here i really have no other way to describe this lmfao. i wrote this all in about three hours so please excuse any mistakes bc i had to get the idea out while it was still fresh in the mind. don’t get me wrong i love dominant eddie but let’s be real he’s just not, is he? he’s a fumbling little virgin and i love that
18+. smut. alcohol. sex with someone in the room (don’t do this. this is fiction.) eddie is so pathetically down bad for reader and also a virgin! they’re in college rather than hs bc i’m too old to be writing about teenagers here
♡‧₊˚
eddie’s insanely nervous when the bottle starts spinning, anticipating the dread of having to get in that tiny closet with well.. literally anyone.
he wasn’t exactly well versed when it came to sexual encounters. he’d barely just kissed a girl for the first time last year and had been successful in avoiding any and all games of this nature. it’s not like he didn’t want to, he just didn’t want to embarrass himself nor disappoint whichever poor soul had to stuff themselves into that closet with him.
it spins and spins until it lands on chrissy and some dude he’d just met tonight. breathing a silent sigh of relief as he now gets a further seven minutes to think up some excuse as to why he couldn’t kiss his match.
his ringed finger circles the top of the glass bottle, clinking against it in some unrecognisable beat. maybe he could run to the bathroom as soon as they came out? at least he’d have to miss another go, be free of the embarrassment a little while longer.
eddie’s eyes glide around the circle, eyeing up the potential matches. there’s robin, who absolutely not interested in him and especially not anyone of his gender. nancy, she’s cute but one hundred percent not his type and he’s sure that the fact both of her exes are sat in the room would mean they could get out of kissing. a few other girls that he’s sure would kiss him but they wouldn’t be thrilled about it. then there’s you. sat with your legs crossed, skirt riding up your supple thighs and a shirt that hung low enough that you shouldn’t have even bothered wearing one.
he only notices that he’s staring when steve makes some lewd comment about the noises coming from the closet. tearing his eyes off of your chest and onto the rowdy man.
oh shit, what if it lands on a guy? at least maybe they could just shuffle off and pretend to make kissy noises, see that’d be easy.
before he’s able to jump up and run off, chrissy and the unnamed guy stumble out of the closet, giggling with their cheeks flushed.
oh god oh god oh god.
‘ya have fun in there?’ steve bellows, clearly intoxicated and obviously way too eager to have his turn. why couldn’t he just be more like him, eddie thinks.
steve spins the bottle again. going round and round and round until it stops, the lipped edge facing you.
please no. please literally anyone other than him.
if he was clueless with the other girls he wouldn’t have a fucking clue what to do with you.
‘oh shiiit,’ steve hisses as he sends the bottle flying again.
it slows down just before him, thinking he’d escaped once again until the glass stops. pointing right at his gormless face. he blinks at the bottle, trying with all his might to send it flying again through some undiscovered telekinetic energy or some shit.
it doesn’t. obviously. because he’s not fucking superman.
‘come on,’ you speak, stood before him with your hand extended. oh fuck. he’s not sure he can even take your hand. it’s far too clammy and he’d expose his super-virgin status.
he groans getting up from the floor, gingerly taking your hand and following you through the corridor to the closet. his heart in his throat the entire time. he thinks he might just throw up. unsure of if it’s from the anticipation or just sheer terror of having to try and kiss you.
with your fucking tiny skirt and your perfect tits pressed against him. there’s no way he won’t pop a fucking boner. oh god, what if-
‘you okay?’ you ask, shuffling into the small space opposite with the tiny flecks of light shining on your smile. he hadn’t even noticed you’d shut the door, too caught up in his own head to realise that this was now and he was going to have to do something before you ran out of there laughing.
‘yeah- yeah,’ nodding frantically as he attempts to collect himself. maybe you didn’t wanna kiss him? you’d make some polite excuse about having a boyfriend or something and then you could stand and make small talk for the excruciatingly long seven minutes.
‘good,’ you mumble before closing the already tiny gap between you, pressing your lips to his in a haste.
eddie’s head is empty. absolutely nothing going on inside. frozen in time as your lips move against his. he should do something. he just doesn’t know what.
‘what? you never kissed a girl before?’ you scoff, pulling away slightly. are you mocking him? or is this flirting? fuck, why don’t they make books for this kinda shit?
‘y-yeah i have..’ he mumbles, arms still limply hung around his sides. if you could see his face right now, he’d be comparable to a ripe beetroot.
‘so kiss me back then?’ you giggle, connecting your lips once again, soft hand coming to caress his warm cheek.
okay, yeah. just.. kiss back.
he does what he thinks is right, eyes fluttering shut as his lips move with yours. this is good, he thinks. it feels right.
your other hand reaches out to grab his wrist, moving his hand to rest on your waist. giggling into his mouth, your breath tasting like alcohol and a hint of mint. it’s sweet, addicting almost as he chases the taste with his mouth.
adrenaline racing through his veins when your hand leaves his wrist and tangles into his hair, fingernails tracing along his sensitive scalp. he has to restrain himself from moaning into your mouth. it’s an entirely new sensation for him, makes his cock twitch in his tight jeans. he can’t stop thinking about how much he wants you to just tug it, pull his head back with your delicate fingers.
your knee slides between his legs, thick thigh nudging the growing bulge in his pants. letting out the most embarrassing noise into your mouth. before he even has time to curse himself for it your tongue slips into his mouth, using the opportunity to push your chest further into his.
deciding now to be brave, his hand shakily meets your shoulder, holding you in that exact position. he could stay here forever, he wouldn’t need anything else in life. ever.
your lips pull back slightly and he whimpers. literally whimpers in response to the sudden lack of attention. feeling your smile grow against his now swollen lips. who the fuck whimpers? if he hadn’t already established his virgin-ness, he definitely had now.
‘is that good, yeah?’ you breathe, the words almost sending him into cardiac arrest. they sound as if they’re dipped in honey coming from your sweet lips.
he nods quickly, unable to form a coherent response without looking like an utter fool. opening his eyes just enough to see you staring up at him through your lashes. if he weren’t leant against the wall, he’s sure he’d collapse into a puddle of goo.
‘what if i do.. this?’ palm sliding down over his neck and heaving chest before stopping at his belt buckle, waiting for a sign to continue.
his adams apple bobs as he swallows and you take it as a compliment and sliding your hand on top of his very obvious boner.
he’s a goner.
grip tightening on your shoulder as his breath stutters. willing himself not to cum in his pants right then and there. he would never ever live that down. not with that meathead harrington who would definitely pull him up on it the second you left.
‘oh yeah?’ you remark, smirking in the darkness at his pathetic stature. slowly moving your fingers as you palm him through his jeans. your hardened nipples brushing against his chest because of fucking course you weren’t wearing a bra.
there’s no way he’s making it out of this cupboard alive.
‘h-holy shit,’ he chokes out, eyelids fluttering as he fights off fainting. his head is fuzzy, sorta like how he felt when he got high and jerked off except so so much better.
‘maybe we could.. continue this later?’ muttering quietly so as to avoid anyone outside hearing.
he’s well aware that you only have at most a minute or so left before someone rips open that door and reveals the pitiful mess he is. the sentence doesn’t register for a few seconds until he realises what you meant.
‘y-yes,’ he finally responds, overly eager, ‘please,’ ashamed at how desperate he sounded. he’s sure that he’d kill someone for just one extra minute in here with you. not entirely sure how he would be able to hold on until later.
you don’t reply with words, mashing your lips together one last time before someone hammers on the door, signalling that his seven minutes in actual heaven were over.
‘get out you horny fucks, i want a turn!’ steve jokes from the other side, making you spring apart before he comes crashing into the room.
you smile at him again, seemingly so innocent when he knows you’re anything but.
the bright light of the hallway makes him blink before you bound off back to whoever’s room you were playing him. leaving him with the worlds most awkward stiffy and absolutely no way to hide it from the prying eyes of the fellow players.
‘god damn munson, are you alright?’ steve laughs at his outwardly flustered appearance. eddie is so fucking grateful that the boy is too invested in getting his turn to pay full attention to the obvious tent in his jeans.
sliding into his spot, discreetly moving one of the cushions to his lap. he doesn’t give a shit about the game, too busy wondering just when later would be.
it goes on and on.
robin and nancy head off to the closet, receiving a few woos from the gaggle of people.
then it lands on argyle and jonathan, the larger man having to drag jonathan into the closet with an excited wiggle of his brows.
steve’s fuming at every turn that isn’t his, throwing his hands into the air when it lands on anyone other than him.
and then the bottle goes spinning again, stopping on you. eddie’s not sure if it’s jealousy that it could land on anybody else or desperate hope that it lands on him again.
it doesn’t, goes flying right past him and ends up stopping right in front of steve who jumps up, absolutely ecstatic that he finally gets to go into that damn closet.
eddie’s eyes meet yours, ducking his head slightly and hoping that the searing envy wasn’t so apparent on his features. you give him a little shrug and that same damning smile before getting off the floor.
‘c’mon then big boy,’ rolling your eyes as steve pulls you into the closet.
eddie’s seething with jealousy and he’s not even sure why. you weren’t his like, this wasn’t an exclusive contract that meant you could only play the game with him. near enough drawing blood as his teeth dig into his bottom lip. it’s the thought of it. of steve and his big hands and his exuding levels of confidence. infuriating him to no end.
‘you good bro?’ jonathan nudges his elbow, completely unaware that he had been glaring at the same stain on the carpet for what must have been minutes.
‘me? yeah.. i’m good,’ standing to grab himself another beer. thank fuck the boner had subsided. at one point he had seriously considered disappearing to the bathroom to relieve himself but a few thoughts of his sixth grade math teacher naked had killed it completely.
he pops the top off with his ring, taking a long hard swig of the beer, counting the seconds until you’d reappear from the hallway. this would be the perfect time to grow some goddamn balls and show you how he felt. he could slide right into the spot next to you, maybe even extend an arm around your shoulder. you know, really hammer it home.
‘it’s been seven minutes,’ he blurts out instead, appearing more as a jealous weirdo than the cool, outgoing guy he so wished to be. stupid. internally cussing himself out.
‘you were in there for eight minutes, dude,’ robin laughs, shoulders shaking at his eagerness. great, now everyone in the room knew he was a possessive, jealous freak.
‘hah.. yeah right,’ shuffling back to his spot with the worst attempt at playing at cool that he’d ever seen. swallowing the gigantic lump in his throat and watching the doorway like a fucking hawk.
‘seven minutes stevie.. that’s it,’ your voice echoes and you finally reappear, pulling at the strap of your shirt, readjusting it to its rightful position on your shoulder.
‘holy shit,’ steve remarks, his stupidly perfect hair all messed up, red cheeks to match. eddie longs to grab his collar and pummel his fist into his face. he doesn’t of course, that’d make him look really normal.
instead he chooses to read the label of the beer bottle rather intently, ignoring the feeling of your eyes boring into him. perhaps later would never arrive and he’d just have to move on with his life.
the party dies down and eventually the game gets abandoned, party goers slinking off home or to the bedrooms or as argyle had, passing out on the couch. now would be the perfect time to scarper off to his dorm, not like anyone would notice he was gone. you certainly wouldn’t. not with steve hanging around your feet like a lost puppy.
when the music cuts out, he knows it’s time to go. later was quite clearly not coming. and neither was he. well, he would. just when he got home.
‘well, i’m going to bed,’ you announce, pushing yourself from the couch, staring directly at him. is that a hint? is this later? god, he doesn’t know.
hesitating just a moment too long as steve interjects first, ‘me too.. you don’t mind if i crash here, do you?’
your eyebrows raise slightly, still staring him down. waiting for a response well, for anything from eddie.
‘i-i’ll take the couch, if that’s okay?’ thinking that maybe your lack of response was also a hint? it’s really not clear and he just wishes that you’d directly tell him what to do.
‘sure.. knock yourself out,’ you shrug, a tinge of disappointment in your voice. so it was a hint. you wanted eddie to volunteer to stay in your room, he gets it now! now that it’s way too late.
‘great! well, i guess we’re roomies,’ steve smirks, gazing over at you. disgustingly smug in the way his hand lingers on the small of your back. that should be him. if only he wasn’t such a bumbling idiot he might’ve been the one leading you up the stairs. fingers sprawled out on your back and a mischievous grin to match.
he takes his spot on the couch, shuffling out of the denim jacket that had clung to him all night. he’s sure he can hear a distant banging, some muffled moans and a squeaky mattress. or maybe it’s his subconscious playing cruel, horrid tricks on him. whatever it is, he hates that it’s got him excited. it’s incredibly disgusting and perverted but he can’t help it. he’d sported a slight chub for most of the night which was definitely not helping right now.
tossing on the uncomfortable couch until his head is buried in the cushion and he can’t hear it anymore. certainly rock solid as his eyes squeeze shut. oh fuck. the bathroom seemed like a perfectly valid idea now, that wasn’t weird right?
just before he can convince himself to get up and go the stairs creak and he can hear a soft padding of feet climbing down. freezing in his spot, hips pressed into the soft cushion so as to not give away his precarious position. it’s just someone getting water, at least he hopes.
‘are you a fuckin’ idiot?’ your voice whispers harshly from the doorway, muttering curses under your breath as you stumble across the room to the couch.
‘w-what?’ he speaks, turning his head but leaving his body flat against the back of the sofa. now he definitely didn’t want you to see that.
‘you were supposed to- fuck, where are you?’ groaning as your toe collides with the coffee table, still blindly feeling your way to the couch.
‘here,’ he calls, holding his arm out for you to find.
using his voice to finally find the stupid couch, fumbling around as your leg slings over his sideways turned thighs, ‘why are you lying like that? move,’ speaking in hushed voices, trying not to wake the gentle giant on the opposite sofa.
your bossiness certainly doesn’t make matters any better, his dick straining against the denim as he reshuffles, lying flat on his back. he’s grateful that you’d straddled his thighs and not his raging boner.
‘you were supposed to say that you were staying with me, you idiot,’ sitting tall atop his legs.
his hands are suspended in the air, hesitant to touch you. or touch the wrong part of you even. eddie’s brain reboots when you shuffle upwards, mouth running dry as the cogs turn ever so slowly to formulate a reply.
‘i- wha? i thought.. you and steve.. uh, in the closet?’ his eyes somewhat adjusting to the darkness, just about making out your figure and your furrowed brows. oh god it’s so hot- you’re so hot when you’re mad. his mind flashing back to that dingy closet and how fucking good your hand felt in his hair.
‘no,’ you grimace, ‘i don’t want to fuck steve, i want to fuck you.. are you stupid?’ coming to place your hands on his chest. sure that you could feel his heart pounding through his shirt. ‘he just touched my tits a little and besides, i hid in the bathroom until he passed out.. you are stupid.’
his mouth opens and subsequently shuts again without any words forming. there weren’t any. yes. yes he was stupid. quite clearly. most people probably would’ve gathered what was going on when you’d fondled his balls and very obviously stated that you wanted to fuck him later. well, eddie wasn’t most people.
‘you do?’ is all that he manages to squeeze out, sounding like a small child. eyes shining bright in the little light leaking through the curtains.
‘oh my god,’ you complain, leaning down to connect your lips, wanting to shut him up if nothing else.
even now, he’s still taken aback but he’s not completely brain dead yet as his hands find your hips. see? didn’t even need your guidance this time.
your hips grind down against his, pyjama shorts riding up as you move. eddie’s positively gutted that he can’t see them in this light, he knows they’re soft, can feel that at least. he’s more confident now, a new air about him that just wasn’t there mere hours ago. he thinks that maybe it’s because there isn’t a room full of his friends listening to your every move outside.
that or the sheer level of arousal coursing his veins.
but his tongue is the one to slip into your mouth, noting that you’d definitely brushed your teeth and he wished he’d done the same. your fingers walk the length of his chest, coming between your bodies to his belt buckle.
this is it. he’s going to lose his virginity. and to you no less. oh fuck.
you pull away, tapping on his chest with your other hand, ‘sit up,’ forefinger hooked into one of his belt loops.
he obliges immediately, shifting to sit back against the arm rest. making sure to hold onto your waist as he does. you feel so soft, his fingers melding into your skin perfectly. the cold metal of his rings leaving tiny indentations as his grip tightens. he’d do anything you asked him to, especially if you were poised above him like this.
your hand goes back to working his belt off, unbuttoning his jeans and working them down his thighs. brushing against his length with your fingers. he’s almost panting, head lolling back instinctively, stifling the ungodly moan that had found itself in the back of his throat.
‘look at me,’ you whisper, still tracing the veiny cock beneath you.
his head shoots up, looking back into your eyes. desperate to please you, abiding by any and all instructions that you barked just incase he fucked this up. he would have to pack his bags and flee the country if he did. not sure that he would be able to live with himself.
‘are you a virgin?’ you ask quietly and he feels his cheeks flush immediately.
was it that obvious? the fact that he’d popped a boner the second you’d kissed him was probably a dead giveaway, actually. you don’t seem to care.. he has no reason to lie. unless this is all one big prank and you’re actually about to climb off of him and start laughing.
it’s totally shameful but actually that’d probably still get him off.
‘yeah..’
you nod, taking your eyes off of his to look down at his cock. there’s a tiny wet patch which had actually most likely been there for hours when he thinks about it.
‘you want to, don’t you? we don’t have to.. could suck you off or something?’
‘n-no no, i want to.. trust me, i want to,’ sounding as desperate as humanly possible. over his dead body would he would fuck this up. now he’s not sure how long he’ll last but he’s sure it won’t be long.
‘okay.. good,’ you smirk, bringing the waistband of his boxers down. his cock springs up to his stomach and his eyes flit shut. was his dick small? is that something you cared about? he didn’t have much to go off here except from porn and even he knew that wasn’t exactly realistic.
he can hear you spit into your hand and he’s back to full attention, watching as it drops into your palm and trying his hardest not to cum right now. with your chin shining and your lips wet, it’s all too much.
and when your tender hand covered in your spit wraps around the base of his cock, he chokes on nothing. fingernails leaving crescent moon shapes in your hips, certain that he’s probably hurting you but unable to let go without busting a nut.
you pump your hand a few times, watching intently as he struggles to stay with it. it’s heaven. no no, it’s better than heaven. better than anything he’d ever experienced in his entire life. and the man had gotten creative with some of his masturbation sessions to say the least.
a snore rips through the room and it’s then that he’s reminded of the other man passed out on the other side of the room, ‘shit.. sh-should we carry on?’ nervously taking his bottom lip between his teeth.
‘just be quiet, he won’t wake up,’ ignoring the drunkard and continuing to pump your hand.
eddie’s unsure if it’s you or if he’s feeling things but he can feel a something wet on his thigh. not brave enough to take his hand down there to find out.
‘you sure you want to?’ leaving your hand at the base of his cock to move yourself upwards.
‘y-yes.. please,’ nodding like a maniac.
that’s all the confirmation you need to shift your shorts out of the way, sitting straighter on your knees and positioning his tip at your sopping entrance.
he’s not prepared one bit for how intense it feels. the sensation sends shockwaves through his entire body, sending his head spinning.
lowering yourself down onto him with a soft sigh, hands now finding his shoulders for leverage. eddie’s about to start levitating. you’re so warm, enveloping him inside just right. the second you move, he’ll probably start crying.
his eyes struggle to stay open, rolling to the back of his head. moaning far too loudly when your hips move forward causing your hand to clamp right over his mouth. as if that wouldn’t make him cum ten times faster.
‘shh,’ you hiss, working your hips at a steady rhythm. soft squeaks leaving your own mouth with every bounce but keeping your eyes steady on him. enjoying the sight of him coming completely undone underneath your body.
your hand leaves his shoulder for a second, manoeuvring his hand onto your chest, ‘touch me,’ mewling when he gets the gist and starts palming your tit. the feel of your hardened nipples underneath his palm only sending him hurtling faster towards his already fast approaching orgasm.
he’s one second away from blurting out that he’s in love with you. which he doesn’t think is far off of the truth to be honest.
you trust him enough to not start babbling and take your hand from his mouth, grabbing onto his shoulder again to quicken your pace. clit catching against the patch of pubes he wishes he had time to tame. it was driving him fucking insane, knowing that he was the reason you were panting and cursing under your breath.
there it is. that familiar sensation of something tightening in his stomach, except a hundred times more intense than anything he’d ever felt before. quickly shaking his head to give you some forewarning though it’s pretty useless.
‘f-fuck, oh fuck,’ lifting his hips from the couch to empty himself into you. eddie could’ve never imagined that this is what you would feel like. pure ecstasy vibrating through his limbs, spurts of white hot pleasure exploding behind his eyelids.
his thighs shaking as he collapses back into the couch, still mumbling a bunch of sorries as he attempts to float back down to planet earth. he’d lasted a measly few minutes and for that, he wanted to curl up and die. if it weren’t for the fact that you were so fucking sexy and so warm and so perfect- he probably would’ve lasted at least a couple minutes more.
eddie’s eyes stay closed as you climb off of him, readjusting your shorts as you settle on his thighs once again, ‘you back in the room yet?’ chuckling quickly, leering down at him.
a strangled laugh falls out of his lips, daring to look at you. ashamed even though he knows it’s not that bad. sure he’d lasted longer than at least one other person out there.
‘sorry.. i swear, gimme like.. like ten minutes..’ doing everything in his power to convince you not to leave. because truthfully if you stayed like this, he probably would be hard again in a matter of minutes.
‘hey.. it’s okay,’ you lean down, chest flat against his, ‘don’t worry ‘bout it,’ head perfectly tilted to gaze up into his eyes. maybe he wouldn’t need ten minutes at all. not with the way you’re looking at him like that, doe eyed and whispering sweet words of encouragement into his ear.
‘wanna.. uh,’ the words stick in his throat, ‘wanna get you off,’ blushing despite the fact his dick had literally just been buried inside of you. it’s ridiculous really.
‘you can.. don’t worry,’ pressing your lips to the stubble beneath his chin.
his cock twitches at the sensation and he truly realises how completely pathetic he was. fully at your mercy but he wouldn’t have it any other way.
#eddie munson stranger things#eddie munson x you#eddie munson smut#eddie munson fic#eddie munson#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x female reader smut#stranger things x you#eddie munson fanfic
4K notes
·
View notes
Text
OBSESSED: ITADORI
A/N: Quarterback Itadori with #20 on his jersey realizes he has a little (big) problem with a certain cheerleader turned Chem tutor (who also happens to be just a little bit older 🤭). Anon this one is for you! I hope you enjoy 💋
S/N: I’ve never giggled so much writing a piece. This one was so funny to me.
C/W: Aged up characters (19+), college AU, Mature, 18+
“ITADORI!”
Oh for fucks sake.
Yuji can’t drag away from the pyramid of cheerleaders right of center field.
“Coach?”
“IF YOU WANT TO WEAR A SKIRT AND BACKFLIP FOR THE BOYS THEN JUST SAY THAT?!”
His teammates erupt in a chorus of laughter. Coach Yaga is an ass.
Fact.
But he is also living, breathing, comedic relief.
“I would coach, but they aren’t my type!”
Yuji yells back, eyes still lasered to your back. He knows it’ll sear Yaga’s skin right off the bone.
Whatever.
What’s a few more seconds, right?
You are just so…hot.
In a mind-bending kinda way. An optical illusion. Or desert mirage.
A fresh water oasis in a destitute wasteland. Always just a few more steps away. No matter how long he’s been crawling on his knees.
His knees.
He’d kill to be on his knees for you. Diving head first into—
“SHUT THE HELL UP AND GET BACK ON THE FIELD. PINK TOP IDIOT!!”
“Yes sir!” Times up.
“Dude, she’s a smoke show.”
The team’s starting running back (#14) rests his arm on Yuji’s shoulder. Just as four bodies fling you so far against gravity it is questionable whether you’ll come down.
“She’s perfect.”
“And a junior.” #14 reminds him, tugging his helmet back over his head.
“So?”
“Okay, freshmeat. Someone’s got mommy issues.”
Yuji bursts into full belly laughter. Stealing one last glance at you before pulling his helmet on.
His teammates never fail to remind him that he’s the only freshman in Tokyo University history to make starting lineup.
Not to mention quarterback.
“#14, #20 IF YOU DONT STOP RUBBING DICKS ILL WEAR BOTH OF YOUR ASSES TO THE BONE THIS AFTERNOON.”
Yuji promptly takes position at center field. He knows better than to push his luck. Two-a-days are already brutal enough, he has no intention of making his life harder than it is.
But you do.
You are setting flames to the hoops Yuji has to jump through to get through study hall and afternoon practice.
Why else would you wear those yoga pants?
They’re a second skin, for Christ’s sake.
Might as well be body paint. Outlining every tantalizing, serpentine curve. Pretty, full hips. Plump, tight ass. The mouthwatering, puffy rose between your legs just begging to be watered. By his tongue.
Yuji’s palm digs into his crotch. Trying to force his pulsating length from tenting up into the table. Cursing himself for changing out of his compression shorts.
“Hello? Yuji?”
Your dulcet voice echoes between his ears and curls around his dick. Jerking him back down to earth.
“Y-yeah? Hi.”
Yuji forces an acknowledgement through the sharp edges of his voice box. Sitting fully erect in his seat. Scrambling to find the pencil that was supposed to be mirroring your work on the whiteboard.
Because not only are you a perfect 10 on and off the field; you are a prodigy when it comes to chemistry.
And currently in the middle of trying to diffuse some of your excess knowledge into his very deficient head.
You toss your head back. Your laughter is definitely why tales of fishermen being lost at sea exists.
Light.
Breathy.
Soprano crescendo that’s rutting against the few folds in his brain.
“Why are you so distracted today, Yu?”
“Distracted?” His voice cracks.
“Ha—no, I’m not distracted. Sorry, walk me through it again.”
But before Yuji can retreat back into his daydream, you catch him in the Venus fly trap of your gaze. Tilting your head slightly.
Yuji swallows thickly. Frozen in place. Hand pushing down on his cock with all his might. As if you could see through the table.
Did you know he was staring at your ass? Can you tell how hard he is? Is there drool on his face? Shit, there must—
“Woah, the way the sun is catching your eyes right now, Yu.”
You take a half step to the side, allowing the full beam of light to caress Yuji’s already hot face.
A shaky hand swipes along the back of his neck.
“H-huh?”
“Your eyes are so pretty. Warm. Like hot chocolate with cinnamon.”
Your full lips curl into a soft smile. And Yuji bites down a pitiful whine.
“I—thanks.” You don’t hear him. Because he whispers through a wired shut jaw.
Yuji lets his erection tent up, grazing the table. He fists his base through his athletic pants. Ears fiery hot with embarrassment. His hand glides up and down his clothed cock without his permission.
Did you know?
That you snapped his self-control in half?
And shoved him into the darkest recesses of his mind?
Where his most depraved thoughts (and the King of Curses) lives?
Because all Yuji can see is the way your ass ripples and bounces while you scribble hieroglyphics on the whiteboard.
His mind’s eye is currently picturing him fucking you dumber than he is.
Fist full of hair in one hand. Both of your wrists behind your back in another. Mesmerized by the way your plump, fleshy mounds slam against his hips.
Maybe he’ll fuck you in front of a mirror?
So he can make you repeat how pretty you think his eyes are while he brands the shape of his cock into you.
Then he’ll tell you how pretty you are. Creaming all around his length. Drool raining down from your lips in sync with his thrusts.
Maybe he’ll stick a dildo on the mirror so he can watch your mouth get stuffed while he violates your insides?
You’ll look so pretty. When he fills you up with something warm. A little thicker than ‘hot chocolate with cinnamon.’
“Yu? Are you okay?” Genuine concern knocks his lust-drunk thoughts loose.
Yuji blinks himself back to this dimension. Chest heaving. Cramps blooming from his fingertips to his biceps from grasping his sex so hard. He doesn’t need a mirror to know he’s stained blood red. From chin to hairline.
“I-uh. Sick. I’m—I feel sick. Be right back.” He takes off to the male locker room at inhuman speed.
Yuji nearly doubles over the porcelain sink, glaring at his blown out pupils. Olive skin flushed like he just finished a marathon.
He can’t believe he was just groping himself like that in public. In plain sight.
All because you complimented his eyes?!
Who the hell is he?
“Sukuna, give it a rest.”
Yuji hisses poison at his curse. Because he surely wasnt responsible for those lewd actions.
“Oh, I’ll rest you PERMANENTLY you asinine little b—“
“I’m serious. Quit it.”
Yuji darts around the empty locker room. Accidentally raising his voice.
“Quit what, brat?”
“Quit…making me think..things like that.”
Sukuna’s bellowing laughter sounds like nails on a chalkboard. Deafening between Yuji’s ears.
“That’s all you kid. I’m only 10 fingers in. Don’t have that power…yet.”
Sukuna retreats to Yuji’s subconscious. Leaving him stunned. Disbelief crashing into him like tornado winds.
Yuji has never been a pervert.
Sure, he’s had crushes. But he knows how to control his impulses.
He might be dumb like one, but he’s not an actual dog…right?
Wrong.
Yuji dives into an empty stall while his teammates file in. Study hall is complete and afternoon warm-ups are starting soon.
And his neglected, weeping sex is clamoring for attention.
Missing it’s muse — your soft, curvy frame and the ways he wants to fill you.
One hand clamps over his mouth. While the other one tugs his pants down. Thick, heavy length springing free. Sticky and slick with his precum.
His head meets the cool wall. Hips thrusting against his fist. Broken whimpers pushing through the web spaces of his fingers that are digging into his cheek. Choking himself quiet so no one hears his pathetic hormone driven state.
“Mnnhgh f—fuck.” Muffled curses slip past his hand.
His cock is red and engorged. Angry from his abuse. But his hips can’t stop rutting into his hand. Picturing abusing your pretty, swollen cunt.
A hot tear rolls along his cheek, between his fingers. Salty on his tongue.
Curtains start to shade his vision and Yuji’s hands move to cup his bulbous tip. His muscular core tenses and strings of warm, thick seed fills his hands.
The world slowly starts to piece together. His heart rattling in its cage comes to a normal pace. Choppy, incomplete breaths gradually replaced with deep, relaxed ones.
Shit.
He’s in trouble.
Because he needs to pass chemistry to play football. And he needs you to pass.
But he can’t ever look you in the eye again after this display.
After one measly compliment.
How will he act if you bend over in front of him?
Or lean over a little too far?
God forbid you touch his arms or brush against him.?
Then a lightbulb goes off.
Yuji has the perfect solution.
He scrambles to clean up. Putting on his street clothes. Ignoring the quizzical looks from his teammates. He’s going to fix his little problem.
“Coach Yaga?” Yuji is met with an open office door and his coach’s nostrils flaring. Vein along his temple pulsing.
He draws in a steadying breath.
“I can’t play football anymore coach. I quit.”
“….YOU WHAT?!?!”
#jjk fanfic#jjk smut#yuji itadori#jjk itadori#itadori x reader#yuji itadori x reader#jujutsu itadori#itadori smut#itadori x you#itadori fluff#yuji smut#yuji x reader#jjk yuji#jjk x reader#itadori yuuji#jjk yuuji#yuuji x reader#yuuji smut#jujutsu kaisen yuuji#yuuji fluff#yuuji x you#jjk#jjk x you#jjk fluff#jjk gojo#jjk x y/n#anime smut#jjk imagines#jjk headcanons#jjk spoilers
2K notes
·
View notes
Text
all the things i would do
read on ao3 | resources on how to help Palestine here <3
pairing: joel miller x f!reader
summary: porn no plot. joel finds an article of clothing that belongs to you and there’s nothing holding him back once he gets his hands on them.
rating: explicit, 18+ MDNI
content warnings: [Post Outbreak], jackson era, established relationship, implied age gap (25+ years), joel is canon age, slightly domestic joel (blink and it’s gone), joel has a panty kink, panty sniffing, masturbation (m), soft dom!joel, fingering, oral (f receiving), unprotected p in v sex, pet names (use of baby, sweet baby, sweetheart, love), smidgen of fluff (these two are so in love it’s sickening), an inkling of a size kink (but in my head joel’s at least 6’5, he’s a BIG big man in my brain), joel’s filthy mouth, praise kink, hint of sub!joel, nipple play, one use of the word ‘Daddy’ (moots don’t look at me I couldn’t help it), slight tummy kink/tummy worship, cum eating. No use of Y/N. No physical descriptions of reader other than having hair long enough that it’s past her shoulders.
word count: 3.1k
A/N: so, a few things before we get started. i’m new to writing fics and this is my first time publicly putting out a fic that wasn’t just for shits and giggles for my friends and i and i’m so fucking nervous like the amount of times i’ve panicked over this is a little embarrassing to admit but we ball. that being said, i love and welcome constructive criticism as long as you’re nice about it. shout out to @skrunkly-scrimblo for encouraging me to actually write this all those months ago and for all your brilliant ideas and encouragement and practically holding my hand through it since day one, @aurasjournal for being such a gem and helping me with the cover for this fic and hyping me up, and thank you to @papurgaatika and @nevergoingbacknowshine for being so kind and encouraging and listening to my 3am rants when i was anxious. another big thank you to kat, aura, and naya for beta reading and helping me during the editing process. all four of you have been absolute sweethearts despite me being a pussy about posting this. okay i’m done rambling, enjoy some of the filth that constantly plagues my brain <3
Joel’s eyes blink open slowly, the sun peeks into the bedroom through the curtains across the room. For a moment he searches for you beside him, but remembers you’ve already left for the day out on patrol duty. Joel harrumphs, still bothered over letting you and Ellie bully him out of his patrol duties. “You’ve been hurting yourself too much baby,” You had told him a few weeks ago over breakfast. “Yeah, you’re an old man now. You fall over one more time and you’re done.” Ellie snickers from her seat in the kitchen. Joel just rolled his eyes before turning his attention back to the dishes, but you had caught the small grin on his face when he turned his head back to the sink. Against the two of you, Joel never stood a chance.
Joel drags himself out of bed towards his dresser to grab a new set of clothes. He throws on a blue shirt that fits a little snug on his well built form, the thin material stretches over his broad shoulders, across his strong back, and pulls taut over his biceps and he grunts as he pulls a pair of dark wash jeans over his strong, thick thighs, securing them in place with a distressed leather belt that he’s had for years. Once he’s dressed, he takes in the mess in the room. He notices both of your clothes from the night before are still scattered around the room. He bends down to pick them up, he grunts as his knees pop when he stands back up. He starts gathering them up to toss them into the hamper already overflowing with clothes. The last article of clothing out of place is yours. Your black lace panties on the armchair in the corner. He grabs them and his eyes widen when he feels it, the center still wet from him making you come earlier. His cock instantly hardened in his jeans.
Joel turns on his heel and in just a few long strides he’s in your shared bathroom. He deliberately avoids the mirror, knowing that if he catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror he’ll disgust himself even more. Briskly, he sets the laundry hamper on the tile near the bathtub. Joel brings the thin black lace up to his face, closes his eyes and he sniffs them, breathing you in completely. He groans at the scent of you. His cock painfully hard now. He knows he shouldn't but he can't help it. He’s addicted to you and he knows he can’t wait til you get home. He knows he can’t wait to have his way with you, dig into you any way that you will let him. So, without another second of hesitation, Joel unbuckles his belt, a clink from the metal hitting the edge of the counter, unzips his jeans and takes his thick, heavy cock out, and then brings your soaked panties to his angry, leaking tip. His precum meets the wetness of your panties and he hisses at the feeling. With the wetness of the gusset of your panties acting as a lubricant, Joel begins to slowly stroke himself, wanting to take his time, savoring every feeling, relishing in it. Joel soon becomes too desperate for release, he quickly loses control, his hips moving faster to fuck his hand, his hand tightening around his cock, the grip almost painful now. His eyes are screwed shut, as he throws his head back, the night before instantly replaying in his head.
He had just gotten out of the shower to find you sprawled out on your stomach on your side of the bed, ankles crossed in the air. He rakes his eyes over your form until his eyes land on your ass. You were wearing the panties he was currently fucking his hand with. You didn’t notice him stepping out of the bathroom, too busy looking at the photo album you had just put together. It’s relatively new, most of the pages empty, yet you were looking at the photos you had taken earlier that week at the Tipsy Bison. The one that had your attention was a photo of you and Joel that Ellie had taken. Neither of you looked at the camera, the photo had captured you mid-laugh, head tilting back, eyes shut, it was a full belly laugh at something Joel had said. Joel’s arm was around your shoulder tucking you into his side, smiling down at you, a rare type of smile, one reserved only for you.
Leaning on the entryway, his arms crossed over his broad, tanned chest, he smiles at the view. You’re in nothing but your panties in his bed, in his home. His feet move without thinking, walking over to you. He brushes your hair over your shoulder, tracing his fingers over your soft supple skin down your back and over the lace of your panties, and lightly pinches your ass. “So pretty sweet baby,” he says shyly, almost like he’s speaking to himself. You turn your head to look up at him, smiling. Wordlessly, he took the photo album from your hands, placing it on your nightstand. He gets in the bed, carefully sitting on his knees while attempting to avoid loosening the off-white towel around his waist. You roll onto your back to face him, his silver curls still damp from the shower as water still drips onto his strong shoulders. He combs his hair back after a shower and the ends tend to curl up around his ears. It’s been months since you last cut his hair but you like his hair longer, you had whispered to him in the darkness of your bedroom, your naked, sweaty limbs tangled up together between his sheets. From that night on he hasn’t asked you to cut it for him. He likes it because you like it.
While you’re busy ogling him, Joel’s hands immediately reach to trace the floral lace pattern before toying with the little satin black bow at the center front. His rough, calloused hands slide up your bare thighs, wrapping his large hands around your thighs and he pries open your legs, his hazel eyes locked in on your center like a bullseye and you notice the cocky smirk he’s got plastered on his face, pleased with himself that he’s already got you wet for him.
He brings two thick fingers to slide over your covered cunt. He feels the wetness on the material and he pulls back to look up at you and finds your attention on his fingers. “What a mess you made, pretty girl,” he murmurs. You’re watching the movement of his fingers, entranced by his fingers teasing your pussy as he glides them up and down your slit. He clicks his tongue at you, “so wet for me huh baby? Always so wet for me. So perfect,” he smirks to himself as he gently pulls your panties to the side, revealing your aching, needy cunt. He lowers his head placing gentle kisses on the soft skin of your inner thigh, his lips tracing and peppering your skin all the way towards your center, his mouth hovering over the place you need him most and you shiver beneath him.
“Joel,” you whisper, he chuckles seeing you all worked up for him. “Baby please,” you whimper.
“What is it baby?” he tuts, “use your words, sweet girl,” he tilts his head slightly with a smug grin on his face. His fingers move up and down your folds.
“N-need them inside me, p-please,” you whimper as you claw at his forearms, clutching them for stability.
“Alright baby, lemme taste her first,” He lays flat on his stomach, moves his arms under your legs, and hoists them up over his broad shoulders. He lowers his mouth onto your cunt and the tip of his tongue licks through your folds. He hums at the sweet taste of you on his tongue. He flattens his tongue and licks a long thick stripe and he groans lowly, the vibrations making you squirm under him.
“Fuck, more baby,” you beg. You gasp at the hook of his nose bumping your clit. Your hands fly to his hair, eyes closing swiftly, brows furrowed as you let out a loud moan.
“There she is,” he smirks. He flicks his tongue over your clit. His eyes slip closed as he relishes in the noises leaving your mouth, like music to his ears. Your hips buck up into his face, selfishly grinding your cunt for more. Joel’s eyes flicker back up your face, “eyes on me sweetheart,” he murmurs. Your eyes snap open to watch him as he brings his fingers back up to your cunt, two thick fingers dip into you and you can hear the wet squelch as he eases his fingers in, simultaneously, he circles his tongue around your clit. He pumps his fingers slowly in and out of you, his tongue lapping at your cunt. You feel the pressure building up more intensely inside of your belly and then you’re chanting his name as he curls his fingers inside you, petting at the spongy spot he knows will break you. He closes his mouth around your clit and he sucks hard.
“Fuck, Joel, yes yes,” Your hips bucking up into his face, your legs start to shake as you come on his face and your cunt tightening around his fingers, a loud strangled moan filling the air.
“That’s my girl,” he says as he watches you gasp above him, pressing a quick kiss to your clit. Your eyes flutter open just in time to see him removing his fingers, all wet and shiny, and putting them in his slick covered mouth, sucking them clean.
Softly, he grabs your ankles, pulling you down towards the edge of the bed eliciting a giggle. His favorite sound…well one of his favorites. His favorite being the next sound that comes out of your mouth when he quickly pulls your panties down. He sees the wet shine of your cum in the center and his face lights up with glee. “You made such a mess ‘a your panties, baby,” he tuts before tossing them across the room. He unties the towel from his waist and lets it fall and it pools around his legs, revealing his thick, heavy cock, the tip angry and beads of precum seeping out of the slit. You place your hands around your thighs, slowly pulling them apart, presenting your already spent pussy to him once again and he groans roughly.
He leans forward, his fingers running through your folds once more, and you quiver at his touch. He gathers your cum on his fingers and strokes himself twice before he dips the wide tip of his cock inside of you. A whine leaves your lips. That. That was his favorite sound. He doesn’t push in further… he doesn’t move an inch. He’s teasing you…wants you to ask nicely for it. Like clockwork his voice laced with honey he says “Ask for it baby, ask for my cock.”
Desperate, you whine again “please joel… I need your cock.” Your needy fingers trail lightly over his soft belly, sitting up slightly, you place soft kisses from his belly button down to the dark patch of hair above his cock, his body trembles at the feeling of your lips ghosting over his belly and a breathy moan escapes his lips. He laces his fingers with yours, bringing your hands near your head, his large form encompassing your smaller frame, he lowers himself down over you, his lips brushing against yours. “Baby, please. Please fuck my pussy” you mewl. He pushes his cock deeper, deeper, and deeper til the head of his cock kisses your cervix, provoking a loud groan from him against your ear as he nestles himself into you, where he belongs.
“See baby all you had to do was ask politely” Joel cooes. He drags his hips back, leaving only his tip inside you once again and you clench around him. “Fuck, goddamn you’re fucking tight,” he grits. Slowly he starts thrusting his tip in and out.
You whine again, “Baby don’t be mean. I want all of it.”
“Shh..I know baby, I know,” he soothes. Then in one long single thrust, he wedges his cock back inside of you to the hilt, bottoming out into your cunt, hitting the spot that only he knows with a loud ragged groan into the crook of your neck. His cock is stretching you out, feeling every twitch, he’s everywhere and it’s overwhelming. He hitches your legs up towards your chest, opening you up more, your chest pressed tightly against his, he drags the weight of his cock languidly between your slick, moaning at the wet sound of his balls slapping against your ass fills the room.
When you look up at him it’s like you can see a lightbulb go off in his head and before you know it, Joel’s large hands grab the swell of your ass, he picks you up, and repositions you both so he’s on his back and has you sitting on his thick cock. He wants you to ride him. In this position you can feel him in the deepest parts of your belly and it hurts just a little bit but you find pleasure in it, you always have.
Leaning forward, you place your hands on the headboard and arching your back a bit more, Joel's head falls back down onto the pillows. At the sudden change of the angle, his eyes shut for just a second before he’s snapping them right back open. He doesn’t want to miss a single thing. He wants to see it all. He watches how your breasts bounce as you move and quickly, he leans up to catch a nipple in his mouth. He’s licking and sucking all over your pebbled nipple and then his teeth graze along the hardened peak before swiftly pulling it between his teeth. He moves onto the other and he flicks his tongue over your nipple, he sucks and nips at it lightly before he lets your tit fall from his mouth, admiring the slight bounce of your breast before his eyes lock in on your face, watching your face contort and your mouth open while you seek your high. It's his favorite thing, watching you like this.
“Jesus Christ, look at you, you’re takin’ me so well,” he groans.
The grip of his hands on your hips tightens but doesn’t guide you, just seeks some ounce of control. You lean forward more so your clit brushes ever so slightly against the dark patch of curls at his base. The friction makes you approach your orgasm quickly. Joel’s eyes flicker down to where you two are connected, taking pleasure in seeing his cock splitting you open, watching as it disappears deep inside of you.
“That’s it, baby. Fuck….use me. Fuck yourself on daddy’s cock, atta girl,” You roll your hips faster, grinding harder on his cock, greedy and desperate to come again. “C’mon baby, come all over my cock.”
His words and your clit repeatedly pressing against him make your hips stutter and you clench around him as your orgasm finally washes over you, harder than before. Your body goes limp on his chest. Joel doesn’t let up, he grabs your thighs and lifts his hips, relentlessly fucking his cock up into you. His cock slams into you so hard the wet slapping sound of your bodies fills the room.
You turn your head and press your lips to his ear, nipping at his earlobe, you spur him on “c’mon Joel, come for me baby,” you softly rasp. “C’mon baby, for me, do it for me love,” you whisper and he whimpers, his thrusts becoming faster, more erratic. You bite down on his shoulder to muffle the whines that leave your mouth as he fucks into you harder, your walls tighten around him, his cock twitches inside you before he hastily pulls out with a long pained groan and with his cock between your bodies, his cum spurts out, thick and warm, coating his stomach. A moment passes and you lower your lips down his chest, feeling the rough edges of his skin underneath your lips as you pepper open mouthed kisses along his strong torso, the soft skin of his belly, over the jagged scar on his lower abdomen, all the way down his happy trail, you feel him shiver beneath you.
You sit up on his thighs, locking your eyes with his, you bring your fingers down to his cum on his stomach. You look back up at him, your gaze meeting his as you swirl your fingers twice in his spend and bring your shiny, sticky coated fingers up to your mouth, closing your lips around your fingers, sucking them clean. His mouth agape, he’s staring back at you while you use your fingers to lick up his cum, “dirty girl, one’a these days you’re gonna gimme a heart attack woman,” he groans.
The memory of it all…you riding him, your naked breasts bouncing, his cock impaling you, watching it disappear inside you over and over, your cunt clamping down around his cock and the echo of your moans as you came last night playing in his head sends him hurtling over the edge.
His cock twitches in his hand, his other hand slamming down on the counter, he groans your name raggedly and his thighs quiver as he comes hard into his fist, harder than he ever has when jerking himself off. He pumps his release into your panties, hot, thick ropes of his cum painting your panties. His cum spurting out seemingly endless for a man his age.
If you were here in front of him he would pull the fabric up over your thighs, making you wear your cum filled panties before going about the rest of your day.
But you’re not here so instead he brings the cum soaked panties up to his face, eyeing his spend and your wetness for a moment. He stops himself and contemplates the idea in his head as he eyes the glistening sheen over the center. Just as quickly as the thought infiltrated his head, he decides against it and bunches up the thin material and tosses them in the old laundry basket sat in the corner of your shared bathroom. Joel tucks himself back into his jeans, washes his hands, limping slightly as he walks out of your bedroom and closes the door behind him leaving your laundry for another day.
#joel miller#joel miller smut#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller x reader#joel miller x f!reader#joel miller x female reader#joel miller x you#joel miller x y/n#joel miller one shot#tlou fanfiction#tlou one shot#the last of us fanfiction#jackson!joel x f!reader#jackson!joel x reader#noelle's workshop#my writing
1K notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
