#i really hated him when i first watched the film
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KISSING LESSONS.
featuring: hazel callahan x fem!cheerleader!reader
synopsis: Hazel’s worst decision was to join her friend’s fight club, until she met you. or, really got to know you, she knew you, you just didn’t know her. she never thought a cheerleader, much less one of the prettiest girls in the school, would ever pay attention to her. until you did.
content warnings: harsh language; mentions of violence; internalized homophobia; light smut; kissing (wlw); so much loser lesbianism; some homophobic slang (faggot, munch)
notes: mentions of violence (duh, it’s lesbian fight club); mentions of reader being bisexual (more toward women tho); homophobic slang (faggot, munch, etc) ; there is no real smut in this as i do not write explicit content containing minors.
word count: 3.13k
chloe talks: watched bottoms and then hyperfixated on Hazel for two weeks before I decided to write this. God, I need her so bad. Chloe has a type doesn’t she? (soft mascs make me hhnngg). hazels so fucking cute I need her to kiss me ok bye. <3 (also, I hate the way this turned out, I’m so sorry it’s terrible)
now playing: kissing lessons ; lucy dacus
Fight Club — a popular 1990’s film, that’s all those two words had ever meant to you. You’d never even seen the film, you just knew it was fucking gay, despite it not actually being about the hot topic of homosexuality amongst young men (or women, in your case). But, I digress.
It had been your friends, Isabel and Brittany, who managed to get your ass to attend your school’s resident Fight Club. A women’s Fight Club. How fucking gay. Oh well, it would teach you how to defend yourself properly. Which, in this day and age — or any day and age of we’re honest — is horribly necessary.
It shouldn’t be, but knowing how to beat the shit out of a grown man is something you should know how to do. Self defense isn’t a topic to be taken lightly, and it seemed PJ and Josie knew this.
PJ and Josie — or faggot #1 and faggot #2 as the school knew more endearingly — where the school’s resident ‘ugly and untalented gays’, as Jeff and his little crew liked to say. Really, you suspected they were all just pissed because the girls knew their way around a pussy better than any of them did. They wouldn’t know the clit if it slapped them in the face.
It had been about two weeks into the girls’ club that Isabel and Britany attended for the first time. They showed up to cheer practice the following day with busted lips and bruised faces. At first, you hadn’t known what happened. Maybe Jeff’s dramatics had finally gotten the better of him. But no, they had willingly gotten beaten up for the sake of learning how to better throw a punch.
Finally, after hours upon hours of begging and pleading, Britany and Isabel got you to attend a meeting. You had walked in, nerves wrecking your body as you trailed unsurely behind the two girls you considered your best friends. You trusted them, they wouldn’t let something bad happen.
You had planned to spend your first meeting simply observing, but PJ tried so hard to convince you to join in. She almost even pushed you into the fucking ring. When you finally conceded, you were face to face with Hazel Callahan.
You knew of her, but you didn’t know her. You’d passed her a few times in the hall, you had a science class with her. Jeff said she was another one of those ‘loud mouth munches’ — to which you nearly punched him square in the nose had he not been Isabel’s boyfriend and a complete moron.
Hazel seemed nice, she’d smiled in your direction when you walked into the gym. It was a nice gesture, no matter the awkward air it held. You felt sort of bad for putting her in the situation she was in, even though it was PJ’s fault that she now had to fight you.
You stood awkwardly, fists raised in a defensive position, eyes on Hazel as she stood in front of you. She smiled again, still awkward as it had been when you walked in. You were set on not getting the shit beat out of you.
As soon as PJ’s whistle sounded, you barely gave Hazel a chance to move. She’d shifted on her feet, sending a spark of fear through you, causing you to send a punch straight to her face. You’d gasped, watching her face scrunch up as her own hands flew up to cup her nose.
“Oh my God, I’m so fucking sorry.” You cried, stepping forward, ignoring the claps and cheers falling obnoxiously from PJ’s lips.
Hazel let out a choked laugh, brows raised as she held her nose. “No uh, nice hit. Fuck, that was a good one.” She blinked rapidly, momentarily lowering her hands.
You let out a small squeak as you saw that her nose was indeed bleeding. “Shit, your nose.” You stepped forward again, trying to find something to stop the bleeding. But of course, there wasn’t anything you had on you.
“Alright, Hazel’s fine. Let’s move on.” PJ droned, giving her whistle another sharp blow — she really abused her whistle privileges, you thought as you ushered Hazel toward the bleachers.
Hazel gave a thumbs up — her hand covered in blood that dripped from her nose — as she walked toward the bleachers. No one seemed to notice other than you as you walked with her. You felt so bad, so terrible because now this girl was bleeding because of you.
“I’m sorry,” you weakly apologized again, sitting in front of her on the bleachers, looking frantically around for something to give her to stop the bleeding.
“It’s okay, I’m okay.” Hazel shook her head, trying to convince you she was fine. Even though you both knew she wasn’t.
“Uh fuck, there isn’t anything — don’t do that.” You’d cut yourself off quick, voice deadpanned.
Hazel paused, her head half leaning backward as she looked over in your direction. Her ringed fingers pinched the bridge of her nose — it seemed she’d had the idea to lean her head back to stop the bleeding.
“Lean your head forward, not backward. If you go backwards, the blood could go into your lungs. Go forward and let it drip out.” You instructed, pulling her hand down gently by her wrist, moving to take off your cardigan so she could hold it below her face to catch the blood as it dripped.
“How do you know that?” Hazel questioned, brows pulled in a frown as she leaned her face forward so the blood could freely drip from her nose onto the bundle of fabric in her hands.
“I had to get a certificate to be able to babysit.” You shrugged, moving the strands of hair from her face without thinking about it. When you’d realized what you’d done, you froze, dropping your hand in embarrassment, muttering a sad ‘sorry’ again.
Hazel shook her head, not responding verbally to your millionth apology. Your cheeks warmed, suddenly so embarrassed for an entirely different reason. Not just for punching Hazel square in the nose, but you’d managed to embarrass yourself by noticing just how pretty she was.
Hazel sat on the bottom row of the bleachers in the gym, watching the rest of the group fight each other in turns, different girls winning. Some had busted lips, others a myriad of bruises spattered across their faces.
You took the time to notice just how pretty Hazel was — a sharp jawline that would make Jeff jealous, brunette hair that mussed in just the right way and looked so goddamn soft, her nose that was long and straight save for the small bump in the bridge that made your throat constrict. God, she really was a sight. How hadn’t you noticed sooner?
Maybe it was the fact that Hazel wasn’t in your social circle. You were a cheerleader, friends with Isabel and Britany, the focus of stares. Hazel was a loser — in the kindest and most endearing way — someone who wasn’t popular. Someone who had hardly any friends. And despite the fact that today was maybe the third time in your entire life you’d ever spoken to her, you wanted to be one of her friends.
A quick, sharp quip of PJ’s whistle brought you back to the present, her loud voice announcing the day’s session was over. You blinked, looking away from Hazel. Who somehow didn’t seem to notice you’d just spent the past five or so minutes just studying her face.
She turned to you, eyes apologetic as she held out your crumpled cardigan in her hands. “It’s really bloody, sorry.”
“No, it’s okay. You can keep it,” you shook your head, holding out your hand. It was only after the words came out of your mouth that realized how stupid that sounded. “I mean, it’s just, you don’t have to give it back. I don’t like it that much anyways. And it’ll probably stain. That sounds bad, I’m sorry.”
Hazel smiled a little at your words that seemed to stumble out of your mouth. You regretted every single one of them. You moved to take the cardigan anyway, acting as if you hadn’t told her to just keep it. But she pulled it back.
“I’ll wash it.” She said simply, standing. There were specks and smears of dried blood on and below her nose. You felt another pang of guilt then, seeing that your punch would definitely cause a bruise across her nose.
“Oh, you don’t have to do that.” You shook your head, standing as well. Isabel and Britany stood a few feet away, clearly waiting for you to come over. You didn’t want to though, for some reason.
“It’s fine. I’ll see you at the next meeting right?” Hazel asked, not relenting and continuing to hold the cardigan in her hands as she started to back away.
“Uh, yeah, I guess so.” You shrugged, somewhat embarrassed. You didn’t really want to come back. Not since you’d punched Hazel and made her bleed on your first meeting. But, maybe this would be a good incentive to come back. To see her.
“Cool,” Hazel grinned, nodding in your direction before she walked toward where PJ and Josie stood. You remained sentient for a moment, hands folded in front of your lap as you watched Hazel.
“Jesus, you hit hard.” Isabel’s voice rang in your ears as she and Britany approached, the latter’s eyes wide as she looked at your hand.
“Might want to wash your hands,” the girl motioned to your dominant hand — the knuckles were spotted in blood from where you’d punched Hazel and blood had immediately started to pour from her nose.
Your eyes latched onto the specks of blood on your knuckles, brows creased as you stared. Bright, rusty red adorned the skin of your knuckles, bits of Hazel Callahan’s DNA there. It was strange, but it made you smile.
The attendance of the fight club had steadily grown — girls coming to the gym after school to brush up on their combat skills. All in preparation for the upcoming football game against Huntington. The fear ever since one girl had gotten attacked by one of the boys and word had gotten around about it.
So, attendance had spiked, the ‘female solidarity’ — as PJ liked to call it — had risen in the school, even the girls were kinder and nicer to one another. And your mind was muddled with constant pictures and thoughts of Hazel Callahan.
It was confusing — you’d never felt such a strong connection to someone you hardly knew. Hazel was as much a mystery to you as the rest of the ‘ugly, untalented gays’. Meaning she was a huge fucking mystery. Sure, you were vaguely aware that her parents had divorced, and that the girl mostly kept in the background in school. But other than that, Hazel was purely mysterious to you. And you found yourself wanting to know more.
To remedy thhs, you continued to attend fight club, naturally. Yes, you shared a class or two with the girl, but nowhere else did you have the chance to actually interact with her. To converse with her, hear her voice, see her smile. God, what a loser you were.
It wasn’t until two weeks later that you’d come to realize how disgustingly and embarrassingly obvious your infatuation with Hazel was. And what made it worse — it was PJ who brought it to your attention.
“Yo!” PJ’s obnoxious voice rang through the gym as you stood in the circle with the rest of the girls, watching Silvia and Brittany spar, your name on the girl’s lips as she spoke. “Quick eye-fucking Hazel and pay attention! Huntington is like, two weeks away.”
Your cheeks flamed a bright red as you sunk into yourself, shoulders curling in. God, you wanted a chance at PJ in that ring to strangle the fuck out of her for that. Your eyes quickly cut over to where Hazel stood — her own cheeks dusted with light pink as she avoided your gaze.
Great, now she probably wouldn’t talk to you at all. Fuck PJ and her obnoxious, loud mouth. Your embarrassment was not short lived as the fight club went on. You couldn’t look in Hazel’s direction at all as you waited out the meeting until its end so you could retreat with your tail between your legs and never show your face in this gym again.
It was as you shouldered your backpack, heart still racing, stomach still uneasy with embarrassment that you heard someone clear their throat behind you. You turned, eyes going wide as you were face to face with Hazel. Your eyes trailed down to a bundle of fabric in her hands.
“Sorry it took so long, but uh, I got the blood out.” She held out what turned out to be your cardigan. The cardigan that you’d leant her two weeks ago when you’d punched her too hard.
“Um, you didn’t have to do that.” You said, offering a sheepish smile as she held out the cardigan. You gingerly took it, eyes locked on Hazel’s face. As you grabbed it, you swore you could feel a spark when your fingers brushed against hers. A fucking spark — cliche but true.
It was silent between you two for a moment before Hazel shook her head, jutting her thumb over her shoulder. “Sorry about PJ. Things kind of come out of her mouth without her brain processing first.”
Yikes, Hazel meant the ‘eye-fucking’ comment. You offered a small, horribly obvious chuckle. “Yeah, I kinda noticed.”
There was another long stretch of silence between you and Hazel, your lips pulled to the side as you held the folded — she’d fucking folded it, Jesus she was adorable — cardigan in your hands. It was strange, but not too uncomfortable. Like that stupid thing from Pulp Fiction, the right person is someone that silence isn’t awkward with.
“I wasn’t eye-fucking you.” You blurted. Great, you made it awkward again. A small groan fell from your lips, head dropping as you closed your eyes with a frown. You shook your head. “Sorry, I dunno what’s wrong with me today.”
“PJ’s just jealous.” Hazel offered with a small laugh. How could one solidarity laugh sound so beautiful?
“Of what?” You asked gingerly, looking up to meet her eyes. For some reason, you were weary of her answer.
“That you aren’t giving her attention. Besides, I don’t think she’d know what to do with your attention anyway, you’re so pretty.” She said it not as an insult to PJ — or at least it didn’t sound like it — but more as an obvious fact. And you were stunned because Hazel had just called you pretty.
You were at a loss. A true loss. How the hell were you supposed to respond to that? So, like an idiot, you just stared at her blankly, eyes confused and wide.
Her own eyes went wide, brows furrowed as a worried look crossed her features. “Shit, was that too much? Too much. Fuck.” Her voice lowered as she cursed, brows knit together.
“No! Not too much, I just… I just didn’t think you thought I was pretty too.” You shrugged, quick to correct her. Quick to reassure that you were flattered and not weirded out.
“I mean yeah, of course I do.” Hazel nodded, her voice soft, words intentional like her statement was an obvious fact.
A smile spread across your face, cheeks warm again. You weren’t sure why, but you suddenly felt so much about Hazel. You’d never had a crush on a girl before. It was new and strange, but you definitely thought this was a crush.
“Thanks.” You whispered, eyes darting down to the cardigan in your hands for a moment before going back to looking up at Hazel. “For the compliment, and bringing back my cardigan. You didn’t have to wash it.”
“It’s fine, I wanted to. It’s a nice cardigan.” Hazel shrugged. It seemed she was at a loss for what to say around you too.
The gym was near empty by now — Josie and PJ chattering away in the far corner, and Isabel and Brittany waiting for you (but not paying attention to anyone but themselves) by the gym doors a few feet away.
So, due to the empty state of the gym and the disgustingly thick tension between you and Hazel, you stepped forward, pressing a quick and gentle kiss to her cheek.
This took the girl by surprise. Her eyes went wide as your lips pressed to her soft cheek. You leaned back, her brows creased as she watched you.
“Thanks,” you said again, with a shrug. Letting her know that was your way of thanking her. Small, but meaningful to you.
It was a long moment that you stood there, Hazel staring at you with wide eyes. For a couple of long seconds, you thought you’d fucked up. Misread the situation, mistook the tension for something else. But, you were proven wrong as she leaned forward, closing the distance between you by pressing her mouth to yours.
“You’re welcome.” She murmured as she leaned back, your eyes wide now from processing that Hazel had just kissed. That you’d just had your first girl-kiss. Fucking scary, but nice. You liked it. Liked her.
“I’ve never done that.” You whispered, blinking rapidly to ground yourself. “With, with a girl, I mean.” You corrected yourself almost instantly.
You’d kissed a guy or two before. Sadly, your first ever kiss was Tim at the ninth grade freshman dance. He was a bad kisser and you hated it. But, you liked how Hazel kissed. Despite it being a quick peck, it was full of intention and it was gentle too.
Hazel shrugged, a small half smile forming on her lips. “Maybe I can give you lessons.”
You grinned, laughing a little as you nodded, backing away toward the gym doors, needing to escape before you said anything else stupid. “Yeah, that’d be nice. I’ll send you my address.”
“Okay,” Hazel nodded, grinning widely to herself as you mentioned her coming over.
You almost skipped as you walked out of the gym, trailing behind Isabel and Brittany as the girls chittered away, the prospect that Hazel would be giving you fucking kissing lessons. You held the bundle of fabric close to your chest as you walked to your car. And it was then you noticed it smelled like Hazel. The detergent, obviously. But, there was something else that was just Hazel. And you never wanted it to go away. Maybe, you could wear it while she gave you kissing lessons that night.
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Hello! New to your account but i love your spencer reid x reader!!! 💕
Saw ur requests are open so im grabbing this opportunity to request a jealous spencer reid hehe something like they’ve been friends and then something happened, jealous!spencer appears lmao idk how to explain things lol
Thank you tho! Love lots!
The Way I Love You
Spencer Reid wasn’t someone who inherently hated anybody. But he hated your boyfriend. At first, he thought that it was because the two of you had been best friends for so long, he was the only person you fully confided in, and then you met James and, all of a sudden, everything changed. You’d spend more time with him and then you’d go and see a film that Spencer thought the two of you were going to see together. However, it really clicked for him the first time he saw you kiss him.
Spencer Reid was in love with you. And he hated that James plucked up the courage to ask you out first.
However, the longer you were with James, the more Spencer could see just how one-sided your relationship with him was. More and more, you’d come into work disheartened because he’d cancelled yet another date night and then whenever you’d bring him to the infamous dinners at Rossi’s, you’d be the one trying to sit with him only for him to find an excuse to wander away. It broke Spencer’s heart to see you quickly shake off the feeling of disappointment to follow him, and how you’d be glowing with happiness as soon as he showed you the slightest bit of affection.
It was when you came into the office for the fifth day in a row, with your eyes red-rimmed, that he felt all of the anger and jealousy he’d been feeling for the entirety of yours and James’ relationship bubble over the top.
‘He cancelled again, didn’t he?’ Spencer asked when you sat at your desk next to him, not really needing an answer.
‘Just drop it, Spence,’ you replied, sounding exhausted.
‘What was his excuse this time? Couldn’t be bothered? Too tired?’
‘Spence, please.’
‘When are you going to see that he’s only around when he wants to be, (Y/N)? That he only wants you, uses you when he wants to get his dick wet!’ Spencer’s voice had risen as he spoke and the volume of his voice paired with what he said caused your eyes to widen and to be thankful that the two of you were the only ones in the office at the moment. You’d been friends with Spencer for 7 years and not once had you heard him speak like that.
Not knowing how to respond, all you could think to do was to get up and leave the room. You heard Spencer call out your name as he got up from his own seat to follow you but you refused to turn around. The only thing that stopped you was Spencer’s fingers wrapping around your wrist, pulling you to a halt. ‘How could you say that?’ you asked, your voice a barely there whisper as tears filled your eyes when you looked up at Spencer. His eyes softened and he tugged you into him slightly closer.
‘(Y/N), I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for it to come out like that. I just hate seeing you accept the way he treats you. You don’t deserve to be with someone who loves you like he does. His love’s like a disease, (Y/N), and if you let it carry on for much longer then you won’t be able to step back and you’ll be stuck with him.’
‘Yeah? If he doesn’t love me the right way, what is the right way someone should love me?’ you asked, lowering your eyes, not wanting to get your hopes up.
‘You should be loved by someone who loves you the way I love you,’ he blurted out and your head shot up to look at him. ‘You should be loved by someone who knows how lucky they are to be loved by you. Someone who would bring you flowers just because he saw them and thought of you. Someone who wants to be around you all the time, even if it’s just to sit in the living room together and watch TV and - ’
Spencer’s words were cut off when you stepped closer to him and wrapped your arms around his neck, burying your face into his shoulder as you felt a few stray tears fall from your eyes. As he had been speaking, you’d realised that not only did you want a love like that, you wanted a love like that with Spencer and you felt yourself relax when his arms wrapped back around you like a vice.
‘Ask me,’ you said, your voice muffled by the fabric of his cardigan.
‘What?’ Spencer asked, wanting to be sure of what you were asking of him in order to avoid making a fool of himself.
‘Ask me what you want to ask me?’ you repeated, pulling back slightly to look at him, a small smile playing on your lips.
‘Leave him? Go on a date with me?’ Spencer asked shyly, knowing that what he was asking of you was a lot.
In response, you reached up on your toes and pressed your lips gently to his. ‘Consider him left,’ you said against his lips, making him sigh happily against you as he deepened the kiss.
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Roman Reigns: "Go ahead, touch it." (Part I)
Warning: Explicit language
Roman. "Girl, I can't believe you refused to kiss that man. It's just one little kiss. What harm could it do?" Your best friend and co-worker, Bianca Belair, teased as you and she walked, arm-in-arm, down the corridors of the building. Tonight, you were filming yet another episode of Friday Night SmackDown to yet another sold-out crowd.
You roll your eyes as your heart skips a beat thinking about your meeting with the creative team earlier that morning alongside the Bloodline. See, you were currently one of the hottest WWE stars on the roster so of course it made sense that you somehow found a way to connect with the hottest faction in all of wrestling history, The Bloodline. You've been a part of WWE for over ten years, having made history throughout your career. You were always prepared for a challenge, no matter what came your way. However, nothing could prepare you for what Hunter (aka Triple H) had requested of you just hours ago during your meeting with the Bloodline.
What was the tough challenge he assigned to you? Well none other than forming an on-screen relationship with The Bloodline's leader, the Head of the Table, the Tribal Chief himself....Roman Reigns.
Why was this such a hard task for you? Well, it's simple really...you have no experience when it comes to men...especially hot ones like Roman Reigns. I mean...the guy looked like God himself took his time crafting him in his mother's womb. He was fine as hell and aged like fine wine. You'd be lying if you said his presence didn't intimidate you. And it didn't help that you've always had a crush on him since you debuted in NXT the same year, he and fellow Shield members, Dean Ambrose and Seth Rollins, debuted. I mean, how can you not?
When he first debuted as the quiet "Muscle" of The Shield, it was no surprise that women were all over him, especially after finding out he was single. Back then, women would fall to their knees for him if he asked them to, and now, it's only heightened since his transformation into his Tribal Chief gimmick. The ladies were like moths to a flame when it came to him. Which you hated because you wished you had the confidence to even approach him and say hi, yet you didn't. Instead, you'd sort of sit on the sideline and watch as different women went in and out of his locker room, often sporting a fucked out look of exhaustion, satisfaction, and accomplishment. Why just a couple of months ago you watched, shocked, as the newcomer on the SmackDown roster, Jade Cargill wobbled out of his locker room only minutes before the show started. That's just how easy it was to fall to the command of the Tribal Chief.
Now, I know what you're thinking. Why the hell would you have a crush on a man like that? A player like that. You didn't know but the innocent woman in you couldn't help but wonder what it felt like to be with the Tribal Chief in such an unwarranted predicament. Underneath him. Screaming his name like the sweetest of song lyrics. But then again, the common sense in you wanted nothing to do with being just another woman in his bed. You've obtained one of the best, if not the best, reputations with not only the WWE Universe but your co-workers and fellow staff and you refused to mess that up with your curiosity about the Tribal Chief.
"Did you hear me?" Bianca says, knocking you out of your thoughts, as she momentarily stops walking to glance at you.
"Huh? Oh yeah....I heard you. But girl, it's simple. I just.....I don't want a love storyline right now. I've never had a love storyline in my entire career, so I was just a little shocked when Hunter said he wanted me to start working closely with Roman. I mean, it's an honor considering Roman is one of the top, if not the top, stars in the company, but.....I don't know. Plus.....I.....I've never even had my first kiss so it would be a little awkward. And I want my first kiss to be speci-" Bianca cuts you off by yelling.
"GIRL WHAT?! You've never had your first kiss?!" she exaggerates as you quickly put your hand over her mouth to shut her up. The last thing you needed was for people to hear your conversation.
"Girl...tone it down. And no...no I haven't. Sis, you should know by now that I keep to myself. I don't socialize like that. So no, I never dated." You sigh as you shrug, and resume walking down the halls to get to the catering room. You were starving and your stomach was growling.
"Girl...I knew you were an introvert, but I didn't know you were like that. Damn girl....so you're a virgin? Which means you ain't ever got no di-" you cut her off.
"Girl...uh-uh. Don't use that vulgar language around me. Plus, it's not like it's a bad thing....right? I understand people around my age (27), who usually have already been in relationships and had sex and whatnot. Hell, most have already had their first kiss, but I don't know. I've never had that experience before. So...when I do, I just want it to be special. Not because my boss told me to do it. You know what I mean?" you say as Bianca quietly nods.
"No...I get it. Your first kiss can either be a magical experience or dreadful. Thankfully, Tez made up for the terrible kisses I've experienced in my past." Bianca giggles as you both smile, turning the corner just as you accidentally bump into someone.
"Omg I'm so so-"you say quickly as you almost stumble over your words.
"Ahhh just the young woman I was looking for. Y/n...Bianca, how are you ladies?" The loud voice of Paul Heyman greets you as you look at him apologetically.
"Doing great actually. Y/n was telling me that she possibly has a storyline with Roman coming, is that right?" Bianca smiles, nudging your arm slightly as you stand quietly, playing with your fingers.
"Well...that was until Miss Y/n refused to fulfill her obligations of the storyline as a companion of the Tribal Chief, your Tribal Chief. Which brings me to why I was searching for you, Miss Y/n. The Tribal Chief himself has requested to see you in his locker room, privately. I presume he wants to speak business away from others. Surely you won't keep him waiting for much longer." Paul speaks as you feel your heart flutter.
You were pretty sure you weren't in Roman's good graces after refusing to do a storyline with him. One thing about him is that he was a professional, a businessman if you will, and he prided himself on doing whatever was best for business. Whatever kept the dollars and viewership rolling in, he made sure he perfected his craft. Hence, why you assumed he'd look at you indifferently after you awkwardly told him and others in the meeting room that you didn't think you were a good fit to be the on-screen lover of the Tribal Chief. Yet, here he was, requesting to see you.
You guess you were sitting contemplating too long because Bianca speaks up for you, "She'll be right there. Gone head, Y/n."
You snap out of it as you look at her like she is crazy. You were starving and the last thing you needed was to sit in someone's locker room for hours as your stomach growled embarrassingly.
"I'm sorry Paul, but...I can't. My decision stands. Now if you'll excuse me, Bianca and I were headed to get something to eat." You say politely as you try to walk past Paul, but he blocks your way.
"Settle down Miss Y/n. He's not asking you to do anything unbecoming. He simply wants to have a one-on-one verbal exchange with another top star in this business. Now, being that you are at the top of the women's division, I'd presume you want to make decisions that demonstrate why you are at the top. Hence, why it would be in your best interest, and the best interest of this company, to meet with the Tribal Chief, the Head of the Table, the Greatest Champion of the Modern Day Era, the G.O.A.T., and Undisputed WWE Universal Champion himself. Now please....let's not keep him waiting. After all, he is a man with a very busy schedule and timeliness is a courtesy to others." Paul rambles as you look at him and Bianca in disbelief as he begins walking away, gesturing for you to follow behind him.
"See you later girl!" you hear Bianca say as you reluctantly follow Paul's lead.
Your mind is racing as he leads you down the corridor until you finally make it to the only locker room with The Bloodline sign stamped on it. Paul instinctively knocks on the door as you mentally prepare yourself for whatever this is going to turn out to be.
"Who is it?" you hear Roman's booming voice question from the other side of the door.
Oh God....his voice was filled with so much authority, it scared you.
You swallow the lump in your throat as Paul responds, "It's me Tribal Chief, I've brought along Y/n to speak with you as you requested."
"Come in," Roman responds as Paul happily opens the door for you. You inwardly sigh.
Here goes nothing.
You slowly walk into the locker room as you come face-to-face with The Bloodline members, The Undisputed tag team champions, The Usos, The Enforcer known as Solo Sikoa, the Honorary Uce Sami Zayn, and of course, the man himself, Roman Reigns.
Breathe Y/n....breathe.....
"So, I told her, why eat your p*ssy when I can get fish from Captain D's then I kicked her stank a** out my hotel room. Hahahaha" Jey laughs as he, his twin brother, and Sami chatter.
Suddenly, all chattering comes to a halt as the attention is turned to you. Gosh, you hated this. You hated being the center of attention. It made you very self-aware of your appearance, flaws, everything. You awkwardly nod your head towards them before you build the courage to use your voice.
"Hi...." You mutter.
"Everyone....out, now." Roman commands as the Bloodline members immediately jump to their feet to leave.
"Sup, Y/n," Jimmy says quietly as he walks past you, his brothers and Sami following suit, each greeting you.
Paul quickly goes over to Roman and whispers something in his ear as Paul not-so discretely points at you before hurrying out the door.
The door closes and it's now just you and Roman in the quiet room. You look anywhere but his face as he looks at you in amusement.
"Don't be shy, come on. Have a seat." He says lowly as you slowly follow instructions and take a seat on the couch, making sure to keep a distance between the two of you.
He chuckles lightly at your actions before taking a deep breath.
"Well, I don't want to keep you long, Wiseman said he interrupted you on your way to get some food, so I'll be quick. The reason I wanted to speak with you was to ask why you didn't want to do the storyline with me. Have I done something wrong? I'm sure I haven't because we haven't crossed paths since your days of the Wyatt Family (which you were a part of) and my days as a member of The Shield." He says as he looks over at you, curious to hear your response.
"Listen Roman...I-I don't want to come across as rude, okay? I don't want to come across as someone who doesn't do what's best for business. Trust me, I know you and I partnering together would do astronomical numbers but-"
"But what?" he says softly as he leans back, spreading his legs to get comfortable.
You try not to be so obvious as you take a glance at his sweatpants or rather what was in his sweatpants as it came to full view when he leaned back. Gosh, just the outline of it was.....
Omg girl, no! Stay focused!
A light chuckle knocks you out of your inner monologue as Roman bites his beautifully pink bottom lip.
(I do not own this gif)
"Like what you see, babygirl?" he quips, noticing how you instantly look away after being caught staring at his dick print.
"N-n-no I wasn't looking I-..haha" You laugh nervously as his presence starts to overwhelm you. This is the most you've ever spent alone with a man. You've officially broken a personal record of yours.
"It's okay...you can do more than just look at it." He smirks as your eyes nearly bulge out of your head at his comment.
"E-excuse me?" you say standing to your feet, displaying disgust at his lewd comments towards you.
He shrugs, casually propping his feet up on the coffee table in front of him.
"I'm just saying....I can put that mouth to good use. Maybe that'll convince you to be my on-screen romance." He laughs.
"Excuse you, but I am not some hoe. You think just because you're used to getting what you want, I'll just agree to anything you say? Look, I'm not your cousins, I'm not Sami Zayn, and I'm certainly not the Wiseman Paul Heyman that waits on you hand and foot. I-" he cuts you off.
"Whoa, whoa Miss Class-And-Dignity. I'm only teasing. Calm down, we have serious business to discuss. I'll keep my hands to myself...if that's what you want." He says as you roll your eyes but take your seat again.
"Listen Y/n, I'm a businessman that makes the best business decisions for my career and those I work with. I want to elevate to the top of the mountain and do whatever it takes to maintain it at the top. With that being said, when the opportunity presented itself, I had to jump on the chance to work with you. After all, you are in a league of your own. I mean.... you are the first black woman to main-event Wrestlemania. You are the first woman in WWE history to do a lot of things. You are at the top of the women's division-"You listen quietly as he continues.
"..... And I'm at the top of this company. I am the greatest champion of all time and it's only right that I have the greatest women's wrestler by my side, Y/n. And that's you. No other woman on this roster can compete with you. No other woman fits me the way you would. I'd love to have you by my side. Imagine the things we could do together, running this business. It's an opportunity that we just can't pass up." He says as you slowly consume his every word.
He did have a point. You two were the best of the best, the cream of the crop, so it only made sense to collaborate and make some major money. But you just couldn't. Just the mere thought of working with him scared you a little. Again, as previously stated, this is the same man you've had this huge crush on for years. You didn't really know how to act around him.
He watches your features closely as you ponder over his words.
"Listen, Y/n. I don't want to force you into working with me but just think about it. I want you to be comfortable. Besides, what is it exactly that makes you so.....nervous around me? You seem so confident in the ring cutting promos and tossing people around the ring, yet right now, you look.......nervous." He inquires curiously.
You sigh deeply.
Well....here goes nothing.....
"Well...it's just that...well....I...." you try to come up with the right words to say without making yourself look stupid.
He stays quiet as he looks at you expectantly, wanting to hear what you have to say.
"I just.......Roman, I've never been in a relationship before, okay? I've never even had my first kiss yet, so when they asked me to start a romance with you, I got extremely nervous. Especially when they said they wanted us to eventually kiss for the cameras. It just makes me nervous, and I don't want to mess this up. I-"
"You've never been kissed before?" he says, in an almost shocked tone.
You shrug your shoulders, playing with your fingers as you quickly respond, "No."
It grows quiet in the room as he ponders what you just revealed to him. No wonder you damn near flipped at his filthy comments earlier.
Suddenly, he smirks to himself. Maybe he can get you to get comfortable around him. If it was experience you were looking for....maybe he could offer his services to you.
"How 'bout this, Y/n, you agree to work with me, and I do what I can to make you comfortable with me. It's a win-win situation." He suggests as you look at him confused.
"What do you mean?" you ask as he stands to his feet, rolling his shoulders back as he peers down at you.
"It means I'm gonna make you comfortable with my body first and foremost. Body language is especially important in convincing the audience. So, for now, I'm gonna familiarize you with my body. Capeesh?" he says grinning at you.
You look at him confused and nervous, "And how are you going to do that?"
Suddenly he removes his shirt as you let out a gasp. Followed by him dropping his pants, along with his boxers, as he stood bare in front of you.
"Oh my God!" you squeal as you instinctively cover your eyes.
"Go ahead, touch it." He smirks, licking his lips, as you can't believe what is happening right now. Did this man really just expose himself to you and permit you to touch his dick? This can't be reality.
"Absolutely not. Are you insane?!" you say continuing to keep your eyes squeezed shut.
"Babygirl...it's a dick. It's not gonna bite. Touch it. Feel it. Stroke it. Suck it. Fuck it. Do whatever you want to it so long as you don't bite it." He encourages as you're going insane in your head.
This can't be real.....
"Time is ticking." He sighs playfully looking at his gold Rolex on his wrist.
Omg...omg....
He clearly wasn't gonna leave this alone. Maybe if you tapped it, he'd pull his damn pants back up and you could run out of there, never to see his face again.
You sigh heavily, "Omg this is....o-o-okay fine but....I'm not stroking it." You say nervously as you shakily reach your hand out blindly (as you still have your other hand covering up your eyes).
Roman chuckles at your innocence. He's never had a woman react to him this way. Sounds crazy, but it made him a little excited, intrigued, almost feeling animalistic like a predator amongst its prey. He was gonna break you in, starting now. However, it appeared you were having trouble with this simple task of touching his dick, let alone looking at it. Maybe you needed a little encouragement.
"Here, do this," Roman says as he grabs your hand and gently guides it around his dick. You instantly squeal upon contact with the thick flesh.
You couldn't believe it. It was a new sensation as your hand remained unmoving on the soft skin. You hear Roman slightly hiss and you grow scared. Had you unknowingly hurt him? Gripped him too tight?
"I'm so sorry. Sorry. Did I hurt you?" you apologize, releasing your hold on his flesh.
He chuckles deeply, "No, actually. You did quite the opposite. I'm sorry but I will try to contain myself a little better next time. Now, that wasn't so hard was it? Congratulations, you've touched a dick for the first time." He teases as he reaches down to pull his boxers and sweatpants back up.
"You can uncover your eyes now." He grins as you finally do that, heart racing in your chest.
"I....I-I...." you stutter, unable to recover from what just happened.
"Don't worry, you ain't gotta say much right now. I know you're perplexed. Look, it's almost time for SmackDown to start and I've held you up long enough....I'll see you later, okay?" he says as he sits back down on the couch, grabbing his shirt from the floor.
"O-okay...." You whisper as you hurry towards the door.
My eyes, my eyes, my eyes. My hand, my hand, my hand.
You couldn't get out of that room quick enough as you shut the door behind you. You were in such a rush that you didn't notice Jade and Naomi standing off to the side (having been engaged in conversation until they saw you), looking at you hurry away from the Tribal Chief's locker room. Jade had a scowl on her face whereas Naomi looked a little concerned. She knew the type of guy her cousin (by marriage) was and though you and her weren't friends (as you always kept to yourself), she didn't want to see you become just another hit and quit for Roman Reigns. No, you were above that. So, what were you doing in his locker room...alone....she wondered. She didn't know, but she'd speak with you later on tonight.
Your feet hurry towards your locker room, your appetite long gone. You were beyond perplexed and to make matters worse, there was a slight tingling, aching sensation in your nether region and it wouldn't go away. It was a foreign feeling to you.
"Oh God, I think I need a cold shower." You whine as you finally reach your private locker room, slamming the door shut behind you.
Tonight started off surprisingly...........but the Tribal Chief had more surprises for you to come..........
#roman reigns#wwe smut#roman reigns fanfiction#roman reigns one shot#roman reigns smut#roman reigns x reader#roman reigns imagines#roman reigns x black reader#the bloodline#wwe fanfiction
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I could imagine Poppy moving in with branch and having her own spot while jd floyd and clay have one
Hmm maybe, tho I imagine Branch moving in with Poppy before the other way around. The bunker would just be his storage or something when/if that happens. I don't think JD would ever live live there because he has Rhonda. And i think Clay continues to live with the put put trolls and Viva after the movie.
@sapphireskeletons told me such a good fucked up headcanon where Branch moves out to go live with Poppy, and JD eventually gets antsy and starts traveling the Hinterlands with Rhonda again. And Floyd ends up all alone in the bunker, feeling stuck there because he had encouraged his baby bro to build it for him and he doesn't have a good enough reason to leave (even though he does not want to live there) and just feeling trapped like 🧍 ... Reap what you sow, bitch. (Sorry, but we are both a bit of Floyd haters and think he deserves to get yelled at by Branch)
#sapphire you constantly point out my depressing headcanons but this one by you fucked me up#so we're not so different you and i jsdbhdbvh#answered#trolls#i know i'm obsessed with floyd#but he is literally the least likable of the brothers in my opinion#i really hated him when i first watched the film#he felt so condescending and “nice” and kinda a smartass#(and now look at me lmao. obsessed with him bc of these exact reasons)
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"Maria and Rhett knew each other way back when, they went to high school together. (...)Yeah, I think the spark is immediate because I think they maybe, secretly, always wanted to be together."
"I think that it's one of those relationships that never happened and never was but it was almost. And, I think, spending so much time apart, one can tend to fantasize what could be. (...) All of that ease of them seeing each other again is right there and it's almost as if they never left each other's side." - Isa and Lew on Maria and Rhett in an interview with Down and Nerdy(x)
"I also love that I get to tell a story about love in this really crazy, scary world(...) and we really want to root for them!" - Isa in an interview with SciFi Vision(x)
#outer range s1#maria olivares#rhett abbott#rhett x maria#isabel arraiza#lewis pullman#tw: alcohol#tw: flashing lights#another last s1 gifset before s2#i know most of you are rhett/lewis fans but please no maria or maria/rhett hate here! thank you!#can't wait to see them together again and how their relationship evolves(or falls apart?)#again sorry about the shitty coloring#i love how smiley she is when she kisses him in their first and last kiss scenes#i actually watched all three of their interviews together but didn't know where to put them#here's to no love triangles or cheating or babies! don't have them destroyed like bodiela was for me#lol his smile before he asks her if the beer is for trevor was so cute... had me giggling and kicking my feet for real#i hope lewis and isa get to do press together in person but i really doubt they will because lew could be filming something?#i would settle for even another zoom call interview#idk why the first peck after they made out seemed improvised to me but it did and i wanna know if it was#i found out from a podcast not too long ago that they maybe didn't do a chemistry read... wow!#the smile after she hands him a beer is adorable#tw: alcohol?#if maria teaches him spanish i will sob
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watched elemental . pixar treads water ‼
#cherryz txt#i watched one a them camrips with the slots ads plastered on them which was funny#disney aint gettin a penny outta me .#anyhow its like funny as fuck how elemental is just zootopia if zootopia wished it could be turning red.#does this make sense. JNGFKJSNGDF#when they aint doin sequels theyre just ripping themselves off#its not like a Bad Film that u should Never Watch its just like . whatever#ohhh its a kids movie...... sure but like idk . kids deserve more variety i think#also that bit near the end where waterguy calls firegirl a coward is like . wat lol .#absolutely dissonant with everything about waterguy up to that point . itd make more sense for him to be like#'ive been trying to do everything i can to show u how u can be free and honest to urself but u have to take that initiative too'#or something to that affect instead of like . some boring generic schlock dialogue u know??#but then again i feel like most of the movie was generic schlock dialogue JHFKJDSNGDSLG#also the character designs were whatever . yadda yadda i hate u hyperrealism being expected of 3d animation etc etc#BUT i feel like even outside of that aspect the designs of the main 2 are just like. so first draft yk ?#i think a lot of secondary and incedental designs were more interesting but even then its like#again . treading water . someone said hey draw some fire people and water people and stuff#took the first color drafts and ran with em yk ?#i think a unique visual style wouldve helped to a degree but like . really coulda used moer time in the oven overall#ALSO. disneys first nonbinary character? on screen for 1 scene . and i swear to g-d i heard them get called her????#(obvs ppl can use any pronouns they want forever irl but like . make a big show of nonbinary character and then????)#(couldve just been camrip quality take this w a grain of salt)#(either way disney vaguely gesturing at queerness to sell rainbow pins for 20 dollars grrrrrrrrr)#capitalism kills creativity <3
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my brother and I crowding around my phone like a couple of fuckin nerds, not breathing, vibrating at frequencies that could rattle our roof tiles, watching the Indiana Jones trailer
#I started to watch it while he was in the kitchen getting his food and he was like HEY WAIT OMG WAIT I WANNA SEE!!!#god I'm so excited but so scared like these movie have meant SO much to me through my life#named the little stray cat I found at 11 for indy. had him 17 years. he was my infant baby. I would watch them with him religiously.#I still have the box set my grandma got me like 20 years ago. some of the first dvds we had as a family lol#I mean they were such HUGE parts of my adolescence and teen years#to the point when I opened the raiders film reel set my brother got me couple of years ago I LOST IT cried like a bitch#I know everyone already hated Cryst*l Sk*ll... idk was it good??? not really#but it left Indy AS Indy they didn't replace him they didn't waste his story they didn't fuck the franchise up#so I mean.... 🤷♀️#ughhhh I'm just like far too emotionally attached to Indy. those movies carried me through horrible times. I love them so much ❤️#erin explains it all
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Of Books & Beasts
Prompt: virginity
Paring: best friend!steve harrington x f!reader
Genre: romance, slow burn, friends to lovers, one bed trope
Notes: wc 9.1k // my first kinktober story (one of five) // hope everyone enjoys it // it’s very soft // a little scary movie night sleep over // reader falls asleep next to steve and things get a little steamy // i wrote everything to have as much consent as possible // steve is a bit of a perv lol
Warnings: MINORS DNI, 18+ ONLY, NSFW // slight somnophilia, dry humping, virginity loss, vaginal fingering // masturbation // smut // 'just the tip' is used once or twice // please let me know if there is anymore that need to be added!
ao3 // kinktober masterlist // full masterlist // lazy ghoul’s kinktober prompts
-:-:-:-:-
The night was meant to be a simple one. After weeks of assignments, exams, quizzes, and extracurricular activities at college, all you wanted to do was relax. Well, you still had one more assignment left to do, but maybe you were able to kill two birds with one stone, right?
Luckily, this assignment was one that you could easily ask for help with from your friend. Someone who always stole movies for you to borrow on many weekends anyways. With your class being based on books which turned into film adaptations, it means a lot of time spent reading and watching. In truth, you felt bad for your classmates who had to rent out the tapes for extended periods just to finish analysis for assignments; all while you didn’t even need to bat an eyelash in Steve’s direction for him to hide movies in your backpack while his manager wasn’t looking.
With the theme of this particular assignment matching the season and going with horror films, a movie night was something that you craved. Thick sweaters, even thicker blankets, a bit of hot chocolate, and candy from the grocery store that had the orange and black packaging — they were all of the aspects to the marathon you proposed when you walked into Family Video on a Friday afternoon after you got off the bus. Despite all of your convincing tactics, your friend already had his answer long before you began to ask.
“Anything for you, dove. I’ll get everything on this list for us,” Steve smiled at you, after looking at the assignment rubric, as you stood on the other side of the cash register.
“Alright, maybe I should place a pizza order now so that we don’t starve during the Friday dinner rush tonight,” you said sweetly as you nervously thought about what to order.
“Don’t you worry about it, it’s on me. Let me treat you a little.”
“I’m the one who asked you to have a movie marathon with me, I should really be the one paying,” you insisted while you brought your hand closer to the telephone.
But, quickly, the man was able to grasp it lightly to stop you from moving towards the numbers. You could never admit just how much your skin tingled at the touch. “I’m serious. This shift finishes in twenty minutes, then I can drive us home and I’m all yours. Do whatever you want with me, dove. I can even help out with your stress relief later. Maybe I’ll bend —”
“Please don’t continue that sentence,” you cut him off easily. Steve always loved to tease you and any eavesdroppers who may be listening in and theorizing if you two were dating or not. The town is full of gossip fiends. “Any louder and people will start to believe you.”
The younger Harrington chuckled as he got out from behind the counter to stand fully in front of you. He adored to see the way you outwardly pretended you hated the fake moves he would pull. From him putting his arm around your shoulder whilst walking around town, whistling every other time he picked you up from the city bus stop, to intimidating every guy who looked in your direction for too long. However, both of you never knew the other wished for it all to be real.
“Fine, fine, I’ll be good and stop teasing you,” he chuckled lowly.
“Thank you,” you smiled to yourself before looking up at Steve with wide eyes. “So will you also be buying garlic knots tonight too?”
“Yes, as long as you promise to stay awake until the final movie, sleepy girl.”
-:-:-:-:-
You, in fact, did not stay awake the whole movie night. It wasn’t Tim Curry’s fault either. Normally, it was tradition for you two to end off every evening like this with one musical or something more lighthearted to offset the mood. But the day just exhausted you from every angle, that once you finally got to relax and watch a movie for leisure — you relaxed a little too hard. Adding the components of the cold pizza and Steve putting a blanket on you while continuously keeping a grasp on your knee, you were bound to knock out before the movie ended. Later, it was Steve who woke you up with a whisper in your ear. The sound shocked you at first, and then when you opened your eyes to see the man kneeling in front of you, it did cause a slightly loud gasp to escape your lips. After some groaning on your end about not wanting to intrude, you finally gave in to the invitation Steve gave to let you sleep over tonight. The main contributing factor had to be the fact that the man had a really nice blanket and pillow set that felt like it came from a hotel.
However, as you both ended off the night in your room, it was Steve who began to groan — although, it was due to pure frustration.
“I don’t have any clean clothes,” your host said as he rummaged through his drawers.
“How about any sweater and some of those long johns your mother always buys you?” you giggled as you sat on the bed now, reading a book you recently checked out from the library.
“Or you could always sleep naked, I heard it’s really healthy for you. Plus, I would not mind at — ow,” Steve was on his little sarcastic joke before you threw an old pair of socks at his head.
“Maybe I should just head home, this feels like such a nuisance to you,” you smiled and whispered shyly.
Steve really was trying hard to find you something to sleep in. So much so that it caused some sweat to drop on his forehead. But, truly, the man was standing there trying to work up the courage to ask you to put on one of his old swim team sweaters and a cotton pair of shorts he knew would hug your body beautifully.
Yes, you have slept over before when you were younger. However, those were all planned out with you bringing something from home. Well, there was one emergency where you stayed the night due to a horrific snow storm; but, Mrs. Harrington was there to give you your Christmas present a few weeks early and allow you to sleep in some pyjamas which were covered in cute bunnies. This was the first time you would be here spontaneously alone with Steve — and god, did he feel like all of his prayers were answered. The amount of times he has imagined you laying on his bed, committing the most sinful acts, in various positions and scenarios, could be seen as absolutely perverted. So to have the opportunity to have you on his bed, wearing his clothes, covered in his blanket; it all seemed unfathomable to the man.
“Here,” Steve exclaimed quickly so that you would actually stay. “Maybe you would be alright with this sweatshirt and some shorts?”
“This is more than alright. Thank you, Steve,” You skipped off to the washroom to finally get ready for bed and let your friend change into his own pyjamas.
However, when you got the clothing on, it was so embarrassing to stare into the mirror. Everything fits fine — and on a normal day at home, you would probably wear something similar. But remembering the fact that you would be sleeping next to your best friend was so nerve wracking. It was just a lot shorter than what you would usually wear around him if you did wear a skirt or shorts. You just thanked the heavens that the blanket would be covering your legs so that you didn’t feel as exposed.
Not that you believed Steve would try anything; not that you didn’t want him to try anything either. But, you were scared of getting so cold and cuddling too close to him like you did last December during the winter storm. Waking up in Steve’s arms caused your heart to flutter so harshly that your heart rate didn’t go down for days. It made you think about how badly you wished you could wake up to his handsome face everyday. Most especially, it made you think about how nicely his leg felt right in between your thighs, and the way it massaged your —
No.
This was an innocent sleepover like the thousands that other best friends have had over the years. All you had to do was sleep next to him with a pillow between your bodies and hope you didn’t accidentally roll your way into his arms again. You weren’t sure if you were ready for the heartbreak of knowing that being entwined in each other’s arms would not last forever.
“Do you want the left or right side of the bed?” Steve called out from the other side of the door, startling you out of your thoughts.
“Anything is fine,” you replied whilst opening the door. Seeing that Steve was laying in the middle, ready to roll over to whichever side you preferred. The image of him with arms and legs spread out made you giggle.
“The left side is closer to the lamp if you’d like to read a bit before sleeping,” he said as he shifted over to the ride side of the bed and patted to your new spot.
“Are you a mind reader or something?” you chuckled between steps.
Steve put the book in the air as you tucked yourself into bed, a nice distance away from him. Once he saw you were comfortable, he placed the book gently in your lap and said: “no, but I could tell your little nap will probably have you staying awake for the next hour or so.”
“Oh, if the light is gonna bother you then I can turn it off and head to sleep too.”
The concern in your eyes was absolutely beautiful. As you started up at him with the lamp glowing behind you, you looked like a nymph in the night. And oh how Steve knew he would be the luckiest man alive to sleep next to you.
“Go ahead, dove. I can sleep through anything,” he whispered lowly whilst rubbing your thigh that was covered by the thick blanket. “What’s it about anyways?”
You took a deep breath to calm down before speaking. Steve’s touch caused you to feel warm, even more so when he squeezed your thigh every few moments. “Not too sure about the entire plot since I’m only on chapter two. But it’s about a prince and his beast companion. They’ve been best friends for a long time and are going on adventures. This was in the romance section so I’m guessing the best friends fall in love,” you rambled, getting quieter with the last few words.
What a dream.
“Is it dirty?” Steve teased as he sunk further underneath the blanket.
“No, I-I’ve never read a story like that before,” you said sternly.
“Oh, I believe you,” his voice got deeper and slower with each word, only indicating that he was bound to fall asleep any second. “Have fun reading.”
They were the last words he said before drifting off to sleep peacefully next to you. Luckily, that meant it was a lot easier to read the rest of the book until you felt your own eyes start closing and the words on the page started to become blurry.
It was a beautiful story, full of lore and love, a mix of historical fiction and mythology. After reading and watching stories based on the horror genre for a few weeks now, it was nice to have a little bit of a break and just read about love. Your heart started to feel warm and giddy as each page passed — even going as far as quietly giggling when you felt your cheeks feel warm as a result of the prince’s romantic actions throughout the book. You didn’t even notice that you were sinking further and further into the blanket because you were so engrossed in the imaginary world. It didn’t even matter that the angle made your back hurt a little.
Well, not really. Once you started to feel stiff, you moved into a straighter position. However, you were interrupted by a low and groggy voice.
“You want to get under here?” Steve asked you through half-lidded eyes and his arm moving to invite you to move even closer into his body.
Wordlessly, you accepted the offer and went right up to Steve’s body. The book was on his chest while your cheek was at his side. Everything felt so comfortable and domestic — a part of you wished this could last forever.
But right then, the storyline of the book went on a different path, to say the least.
You see, the prince got hurt whilst fighting off some evil spirits. He was bleeding everywhere and in so much pain. But the companion, a beautiful wolf-demon, was able to heal his wounds to the point where it wouldn’t be so life threatening. It was so simple, to use a little magic and bandages in hopes of survival, but the author was able to portray it wonderfully. To thank the woman, the prince moved his arms around her to hold her a warm embrace. It was so sweet, just like the position you were in now. However, it took a turn for the romantics. A little too romantic. An activity you definitely were not currently doing with Steve.
The man kissed her sweetly: from her shoulders, up to her neck, then finally landed on her plump lips. It was beautiful, so serene, accompanied by a drawing of the two in bed with locked lips and legs. Slowly, she started to rock against his leg, adoring the pressure against the place no one had touched before. As she gasped into each kiss, the prince smiled in tandem. Even moving his hips to help the lady feel more pleasure. You wondered how that felt, it was only a slight movement of the hips — there was no way it could feel that good.
But you were so wrong.
Just as you tried to move positions, Steve moved his leg upwards, moving his thigh right against your heat. It felt so good, to the point where you bit your lip to suppress the whimper that was about to escape your lips. The man next to you, tried to find a better position to sleep in too, moving his legs some more until it found solace as it intertwined with your own legs.
Fuck, it felt really good. You tried so hard not to move your hips in tandem so that you could amp up the pleasure. So instead, you continued to read, trying to focus on the writing techniques and nothing else. However, you only began noting the things the characters did with one another. How they whispered sweet nothings as they continued their game to see how long it would take the lady to climax. And you noticed the way you felt warm between your legs, a slight throbbing to seal the deal.
Maybe in another world you would wake up Steve and ask him to let you out of his embrace so that you could excuse yourself to the washroom and down. But not in this one. In this world, you were at peace in his arms. In this world, you really didn’t care about the throbbing ache between your legs because you were extremely sleepy. In this world, you would convince yourself that it would pass. In this world, the sound of both your hearts beating as one was enough of a lullaby to cause even the most stubborn of characters to sleep. Just as you did now, with the book still on Steve’s chest, and your bodies squeezing closer together.
-:-:-:-:-
Steve was an extremely heavy sleeper when he was with you. Most of the time, you would be awake first during these little sleepovers and do something before he even pried his eyes open and then decided to keep them shut because of the sun seeping through the windows. It wouldn’t surprise Steve to see you reading at your desk or braiding friendship bracelets when you had that arts n’ crafts phase a couple years ago. This time, however, he was the one who awoke in the middle of the night to movement from beside him. Maybe it was due to some level of paranoia he has gained over the past few years regarding a life that he wishes you would never need to experience. It’s funny that you were reading books with monsters the world has nightmares about, while he was one of the people who was facing them. He wishes so badly to protect you from all of it. So when you started moving in your sleep, something you never do, Steve felt his body wake up in an instant.
His eyes were having trouble fully opening themselves as he could hear faint whimpering sounds coming from you and slight movements near his thigh. It was enough to turn his head to the left to see what was wrong. But nothing was wrong per se. If anything this was right out of a perverted fantasy he has had millions of times before.
As his eyes finally came into focus at what was in front of him, Steve could only smile and thank the heavens. You were laying in the same position you initially fell asleep in: book held in your hand, it being face down on Steve’s chest on a particular page, while your own face was on the side of his chest. But, the thing that surprised him the most was the grip your thighs had around his own. Slowly, your hips were thrusting back and forth against his leg, humping over and over. Whenever your body hit the perfect spot against your clit, you would mewl against his chest, sending a vibration through his body. Your hard nipples would poke Steve’s stomach once in a while too.
Good Lord, he was so distracted by the vision of you thrusting against his thigh, that he didn’t realize just how hard he had become. He only noticed it when your leg tensed up and moved towards his crotch, touching the underside and head in the process.
You were about to become the death of him tonight.
Curiously, he picked up the book you were reading to put it on the bedside table, when the words jumped out at him.
“And then the prince lifted the dress of the maiden beast. How scary she was to the eyes of the kingdom, but how beautiful she looked with swollen lips and lust-filled eyes. She was wet, so wet that it seeped through the layers of clothing.”
Just then, Steve looked down to notice how your wetness was doing the same thing. Your arousal had gone past your shorts and went onto the cotton bottoms he was wearing. But he wouldn’t have it any other way.
The man skipped a few paragraphs to see just exactly what the prince and his lady were up to. Words of biting, screaming, thrusting harshly against the wall, even scratches along one another’s backs. It was pornographic, it was beautiful, and Steve was shocked that your virgin eyes read through some of this before falling asleep.
If only he could recreate it with you. Seeing you moan and move to your lust-filled slumber was more than enough of a dream come true to the man. But this was wrong. So wrong. You both were best friends. He loved you, wished he could be more with you. But he believed that wasn’t worthy of you. You were the princess this whole town adored while he was just a former playboy many people seemed to dislike sometimes. There was a part of him that wanted to see how long it would take for you to come against his leg. However, his guilt took over quickly.
“Wake up, my dove. It’s getting hot in here.” It wasn’t exactly a lie. The mixture of blankets and his arousal made Steve sweat through his clothes easily.
“Hm? What?” You rolled more onto his chest, your weight atop his body nicely. It would have been the world’s most comfortable position, one that would start off most of his perverted fantasies about you; however, he had to stop himself from thrusting against your thigh that was now perfectly on top of his hardness. “Feels so nice, Stevie,” you murmured, still half-asleep.
“Fuck — you really like that, huh?” The man whispered as you looked up at him with glazed eyes. You were still not cognizant that what you were doing was not in a dream.
“I feel so warm down there, your leg is massaging me nicely,” you moaned whilst humping some more. “Kiss me, please.”
Every move you were doing, every word you were saying, every whimper that came out of your throat — the man has imagined it all before. You were all of his greatest fantasies come to life. He wished so badly to ravish you on the spot and satiate all of the pent-up pleasure your body needed to release. Your lips were swollen now from all of the biting you’ve been doing to quiet down your moans; but, good god, the man was going to memorize it all for the sake of his future sessions with his right hand.
Steve really needed to stop this, and fully wake you up as soon as possible. This wasn’t the normal you, you didn’t even realize exactly what you were doing. “Pretty girl, no matter how much I want to continue this, we can’t.” The words fell from his lips painfully.
“Why not? You don’t feel good?” You whimpered as you reached up and put your arms around Steve’s neck, stopping your hips’ movements all together.
“Feels so good, baby,” Steve moaned loudly this time as he thrusted against your leg like he imagined a million times before. It wasn't helping that you thought your face closer to his in order to hear his breathy moans easier. The man was so close to leaning forward and kissing your plump lips. “But, this isn’t a dream, and you’re not fully awake. I don’t want you to regret this—”
The man was going to ramble on and continue to comfort you into waking up fully. However, you got the message loud and clear. So much so, that your heart dropped and you gasped.
“Oh, I’m so sorry, I’ll move over t-there — ah.” The moan coming out of your mouth was completely involuntary as you lifted your body up and intended on moving down and away from Steve’s figure.
“Did that feel good?” Steve teased, now that you were both fully cognizant of your sleeping status.
“I don’t know why I did that, I’m sorry.” If only you could apologize a million times, because you would; your guilty conscience would make sure of it.
“You probably had some sweet dreams, huh?”
Just as you were separated from the man, you heard his words and looked over at his figure. Through the dim lighting of the lamp, you could see that he was holding up the novel you were reading before bed, and it was open to the very scene that inspired any of your hormone-induced movements tonight.
“Oh no,” you whispered. Looking down, there was a wet spot on Steve’s thigh where your heat was pressed against. He was admiring it as if he were memorizing just how it looks. And he was. “This is so embarrassing,” you though out loud
“It’s no big deal, dove. Guys have nudie magazines and a video here and there. I would never judge you for a little novel,” Steve chuckled as he sat up to the headboard to mirror your actions.
“I didn’t know it was going to be like that in the story,” you whispered.
“Did you like it?” Your friend was genuinely curious. Throughout your history as friends, you had never even asked him for advice about relationships — this erotic chapter of the novel must have been a shocking first exposure to it all.
You thought about the question for a few moments. Remembering the emotions and fire you felt in different parts of your body, you could really only tell him the truth. “Y-yeah, I suppose so.”
“Then don’t feel embarrassed or bad about it,” Steve nudged your shoulder sweetly to make you feel less embarrassed over the situation. “Never thought you were into reading it in front of other people though.”
“Don’t tease,” you pouted, putting your head under the blanket to hide from the embarrassment.
“I’ll stop, I promise. But, you did give me a wonderful way to wake up,” you could hear him smiling just by the sound of his voice.
Those words made you slowly peek your way out of the thick blanket to see Steve looming over you with a smirk that teased your soul. The lamp in the room made him glow, while the moon’s beams that were seeping through the blinds made him look like one of the many drawings of the prince in the book you were just reading. It took all the strength within you, not to squeeze your thighs together and satiate the throbbing between them.
“Let’s never talk about this again,” you whispered, the blanket still covering your mouth.
“If that’s what you would be comfortable with,” Steve chuckled as he laid back in his spot.
“Y-yes, I would be.”
After a moment of awkward silence, you both in regular sleeping positions, Steve wanted to break the ice a bit. “It is a well-written book. Maybe I could borrow it sometime.”
“You’re so annoying,” you giggled, grabbing a small pillow on the bed and lightly hitting his chest with it.
“Learn anything while reading? You could use me as a practice dummy.” The man laid on his side now, looking at you as he put on a seductive tone.
“You’re just a dummy, Steve,” you playfully scoffed with a giggle.
“That was the last one, promise. Sweet dreams, dove.”
In truth, Steve wanted you to sleep as quickly as possible so that he could make his way to the washroom and get rid of his hard problem. It was hurting now, even as he tried to think about anything else that would possibly subside his arousal. Your movements and moans will never be erased from his mind. Steve’s imagination was running wild with how you actually sounded as you were feeling pleasure.
No one has ever thanked a book more in the history of mankind.
“Is that what sex is like?” You whispered into the night, cutting off the man’s thoughts.
“What do you mean?” Steve replied as he turned to his side to look at you staring up to the ceiling.
“In the book, they talk about it like it happens so fast and hard,” you said the words with a concerned tone while turning your body towards his to face him.
“Well, it can be fast and hard if the couple wants it that way. But, taking it slow is nice too,” the man next to you chuckled sweetly.
You felt dumb asking the question. For years, you have known that Steve was a lot more experienced than you in the department of relations with the opposite sex. There have been countless times where Steve would tell you about any dates that he has gone on, or imply lewd acts he committed with his girlfriend of the week. And all you would do is nod out of pure curiosity. However, this was the first time you outright spoke about sex with him.
“Right, right, that makes sense. It must feel really nice,” you continued your thoughts.
“It does. Everything is so warm and wet. The noises too are something you’ll never forget. My hand and imagination does not do it justice sometimes.” Right then, Steve’s mind went through flashbacks of times he has laid in bed with the image of you stuck as his muse. He has imagined the way you would react and moan to things he would do with you. Would you bite your lip whilst looking down between your bodies? Would you whimper in the same way you do when you beg Steve to drive you somewhere and he just had a long day at work? Anything you would do would be erotic, and enough fire for him to reach the happiest of endings. However, by the end, he would pray for the day he could experience the real thing with you.
“I wonder what it will be like for me,” you giggled, bringing the blanket close to your face again.
“You got a good idea a few minutes ago,” Steve teased as he looked you up and down.
All you could do was hit his shoulder then hide your face into it as he leaned back onto the bed. “It did feel really, really nice, Steve. I’m so sorry.”
“There’s nothing to be sorry about. You liked it, didn’t you?” he said, trying to soothe your embarrassment of it all. As he squeezed his arm around you tighter to have you closer to his chest, Steve realized that your bare thighs had found their way around his again. You looked so beautiful cuddling next to him, tightening your legs slowly. “Then, maybe I can help. You didn’t get to finish, sweet girl.”
The deepness of Steve’s voice resonated through your entire body as you looked up at him with desperate eyes. His proposal sounded so good. You felt this constant throbbing between your legs that only increased ten-fold every time you and Steve accidentally breathed too close together. As you gripped his chest with your hands, and his thigh with your own — you really craved to continue the pleasure you were feeling moments before.
“I didn’t even know that I started,” you pouted.
“Oh, but finishing is one of the best parts,” he teased whilst moving his thigh upwards to massage your cunt slowly.
“Steve—” you moaned like music to his ears.
Your friend began to move his thigh up and down to stroke your pussy, hitting your clit from the right angle to make you bite your lip in between whimpers. He held your face sweetly, making sure that he could see how every movement affected you. Steve was sure that the image of your pupils getting darker would be engraved in his mind forever.
“My best friend needs help, and you know I would do anything for you,” he whispered, hovering his lips above yours.
“More, please.”
“So polite,” Steve teased, quickening his pace and moving one hand to your breasts. “Doing such a dirty thing and now you’re being so nice.”
“I feel so — I feel like I need more,” you said quietly as if it were a desperate plea.
Steve squeezed your right breast sweetly, pinching your hardened nipple through the thick sweater fabric. He noted how you thrusted yourself against his thigh and nearly fell onto his lips as you moaned.
“Is your body on fire? You feel nice, dove,” he smiled, kissing your cheek to tease you.
“So good. Kiss me, Steve, please.” You weren’t sure what took over your body in that moment, but you gripped onto his hair and leaned your lips towards his. Yet, he was the one who kissed you first. It was a kiss that made the angels sing above you, one that you both have been imagining for years and years. Hearing all of the stories of girls in school raving about his talents with his mouth and tongue — a part of you could never believe that he would be that amazing.
But, you were wrong, so wrong.
As he kissed you deeply, poking his tongue through to taste you more, you couldn’t help but whimper loudly into the kiss. Steve adored it, promising himself to try everything he could to hear every variation of your beautiful sounds. Just when he brought a hand down to your back, urging your hips to move forwards on his leg, you swear you were about to see stars. This is what all the magazines were talking about. This is what all the whispered conversations during girl talk were giggling about. This is what the novel you were just reading was writing about when it came to the pleasures of the flesh. You remembered what the lady did in the book, and decided to emulate her actions. Although you were slowing down your kisses, your hand found its way to Steve’s clothed hardness. It was nearly peeking out of the sweatpant elastic by now which made you gasp in surprise.
“God, what did you learn in that book?” Steve moaned as he felt your delicate hand on him.
“The characters in the story were really good friends too. She was always tempted to be the one who helped him out when he was really stressed out.” You smiled into the kiss, noticing how teasing him only made you wetter.
You hand gripped his hardness some more, focusing on the large head that could be felt through the fabric.
“Here I thought that was going to be my job tonight,” Steve’s voice was low now as he kissed you down your neck and moved the hand that was previously on your back, to your front. The shorts you were wearing rode up to tighten upon your cunt. The fabric squeezed your clit, and caused your arousal to get all over the place where your thighs met.
Steve pushed the fabric to the side, noticing how you didn’t wear panties to sleep, and started to lightly massage your clit. “Oh God,” you moaned into his mouth while arching your back.
The movement made Steve want to lay you down on your back to have easier access between your legs. Although you whimpered in slight disappointment when you didn’t feel the pressure of his thigh, that all went away when the man teased your wet entrance with his fingers before going up to your clit again.
“No panties, huh? You’re bound to be the death of me.”
“I normally don’t wear any to bed if I’m wearing shorts,” you whispered, moving yourself to feel his fingers more against your nub.
“Is it alright if I take these off?” He barely got the question out before you began to nod.
Looking at you in all your glory was absolutely mind blowing to Steve. He swears that he felt his cock twitch in excitement when he saw your arousal dripping on his sheets. The light from the lamp made you look like you were glowing, and the man was so tempted to taste what he has been craving for so long. But, he took it slow, circling your clit faster and faster as he leaned down to kiss you deeply. As every moan was swallowed by him, Steve began to thrust himself upon the side of your hip to satiate his arousal.
The moment he stopped kissing you for a moment, he wordlessly looked you in the eye, teasing your entrance now with his fingers. With a nod and smile through bitten lips, you gave him full permission to fill your hole that has been desperately throbbing around nothingness.
“Feels so good, Stevie. Keep doing that, please,” you groaned as he fingered you deeper and deeper.
“Are you close, dove? Are you gonna come? You’re so tight, can barely fit these two fingers,” Steve teased as he kissed your neck to make you moan louder.
“More — need more.” The grip you had on his hair became tighter as you pushed yourself down on his hand, nearly fucking yourself on his fingers. Feeling so stretched out was a brand new experience. You were never one to masturbate, even when everyone mentioned it was so much fun. Everything from seeing a hot guy at the mall, a rockstar who was shirtless on the cover of a magazine, or the angle of a showerhead accidentally focusing on a sweet spot — none of those experiences ever happened in your life. In truth, nothing ever made you curious enough to even try to see if other things would have a similar effect. But something about this night made you want to experience it all with Steve.
The man quickened his pace with his fingers, using one hand to thrust into you while the other massaged your clit sweetly. Your moans echoed through the room as you arch your back in ecstasy. The feeling of Steve’s lips on your throat made you want to thrust against his hand harder, but you were too overwhelmed to move your hips in tandem. Instead, you lifted up your shirt and started to squeeze your lonely nipples.
You aren’t sure what took over — all you knew was that everything felt so good.
“Fuck, you really do have the most perfect tits,” Steve whispered to himself when he got up from your neck. He felt your movements and thought something was wrong. Instead, he was greeted by the sight of your swollen nipples, eager for some sort of touch. When he saw your fingers squeeze your right nipple, he could not handle it anymore and dove down to suck on them, leaving marks on your smooth skin.
“Steve, everything you’re doing feels so good,” you moaned.
“Are you gonna come for me, baby? I know you can do it.”
And you did. Loudly. Just those words, working in tandem with his fingers and mouth, were more than enough to make you orgasm into oblivion. Steve had two fingers inside of you whilst his thumb was massaging your clit in small circles. You barely had the strength to tell him how good it felt since you were shaking below him in pleasure. All you could do was grasp Steve’s hair as he kissed one nipple of yours to the next. It was your very first orgasm, and you were welcoming it with open arms.
“So nice —” you whimpered incoherently.
Steve kissed you, swallowing in your moans of ecstasy. “I’m never gonna get tired of that sound,” he teased as he took out his fingers from inside of you and just massaged your clit as you got down from your high.
“So much better than reading a book,” you giggled as your body calmed down.
“Maybe we gotta find you crazier books then,” Steve smiled with you while kissing your soft lips.
The kiss became deeper as you embraced one another. Your friend found his way on top of you which felt so surreal. Throughout your friendship, you never believed that some of your naughty dreams that you pushed to the side, would ever come true. Steve was having the same thoughts; however, he never pushed those dreams to the side. More likely, he would take care of any hard problem that was in between his legs. But, kissing you only made him throb harder. Especially now that he knows what your pussy felt like on his fingertips,
“Again — I can take more,” you whispered between kisses.
“Needy girl, you really want to?” Steve asked, making sure this wasn’t a dream for him now.
“Mhm, yes, what if we slipped it in?” your hand moved down his body and to the waistband of his pants. Without even stretching the fabric, you looked up at him with sweet eyes. “Would it feel good too? Maybe just the tip?”
Fuck.
Steve needed to calm himself down. He was already on the verge of cumming in his pants, watching you orgasm on his sheets. Even now, as the remnants of your arousal covered his fingers, he wondered how it would feel against his hardness. But, Steve couldn’t do that to you now. Especially knowing the fact that it would be your first time. However, the lust that clouded your eyes as you pouted up at him, was convincing him slowly.
The conflict on Steve’s face was so apparent that you whispered: “oh, we don’t need to—”
“Fuck, I want to,” Steve kissed you sweetly. “Are you sure, baby? Sure that you can take it all?”
“Yes, yes, I promise you that I can,” you smiled up at him and then bit your lips out of a mixture of excitement and nervousness.
You kissed one another again, not being to stand the time your lips were apart from each other’s. As you did so, Steve brought his hands under your sweater to nearly rip it off of you — leaving you beautifully naked on his plaid sheets. His hands were calling to him, telling him that one day he needed to take a picture of you like this. But, there is going to be another time, surely. Right now, he wanted to satiate your body’s cravings. As you stared up at him and squeezed your thighs together, Steve was truly about to combust.
“It’s kinda cold,” you giggled as you stared down at your hardened nipples. Then, you sat up slightly to meet his lips again, but not without whispering close to his mouth. “Can I take off your clothes too?”
With those words, Steve helped you take off his tight shirt and sweatpants. You’ve been teasingly touching it throughout tonight’s escapades; however, seeing his hardness in all its glory, stunned you. It was a lot thicker and longer than you initially believed. In truth, there were countless moments where you had gotten a glimpse of his size. Like the times he invited you to his backyard to swim, and he always seemed to choose tighter swim shorts every week. Or the one time he forgot to bring a towel into the shower so you brought one to him, thinking that he was going to keep the shower curtain atop his body for some modesty; however, when you were on your way out the room, he let go of the plastic curtain a bit too early and you saw a definite outline from the side of your eyes. Every single time, no matter how crazy the situation may be, you felt warm all over your body. This time, however, seeing the way it hung and the precum leaking out of it, you were hypnotized to say the least.
“One sec, dove,” Steve whispered as he saw that you were about to touch it. You looked to see that he bent his body to reach his nightstand and take out a little clear bottle.
“What is that?” You asked innocently as you began to stroke him while he wasn’t looking.
“I-it’s — fuck — it’s lube. We could use a little if you wanted to,” Steve said seriously before bringing a hand to your arousal and massaging your clit sweetly. “Not sure if we will need much,” he teased.
Steve kissed you again, having you lay down on the bed fully. He thrusted his hardness against your pussy a few times, seeing how you reacted to the feeling. You adored it, mewling every time the head of his cock coincided with your clit. In truth, you both could have been doing this for the rest of the night until you two came; however, you were throbbing around nothing and you craved to feel more stretched out than with Steve’s fingers.
You broke away from the kiss, eyeing the bottle of lube curiously, before Steve grabbed it and put it in your hands to look at closer. There were times you saw a similar bottle in the drug store and noticed they were next to the condoms and pregnancy tests. You saw that there were big bold letters on the front: ‘for her pleasure,’ which confused you slightly. But, you decided to give it a try anyways — it must be something good, you guessed.
“Let's use a little, Steve.”
“Yeah, sure. You want me to put it on?” He asked sweetly as he outstretched his hand.
“N-no, I wanna try something,” you smiled up at him before putting a dollop of the gel in your right hand. “You’re so big, Stevie. You’re gonna stretch me out so good.”
Your words were hypnotizing the man above you as you circled your hand over his cock and stroked a few times. And to think that he believed that he was to be taking the lead tonight.
“F-fuck, dove. Your hands are so soft.” Steve’s moans were making you wetter by the second. You felt your heat throb harshly around nothing, before you moved your hips upwards a little and guided his cock into you.
Just the tip — you said the words before.
But, fuck, it felt so nice that you both needed so much more. Steve stayed still above you as he watched the way you move your hips to bounce on his cock from below. Inch by inch, you thrusted yourself upon his lube-covered hardness, causing moans to echo through the room as you got stretched out.
This was so much better than you both could have ever dreamed of.
“So hard,” you whispered as you got in the last inch and took all of Steve’s cock in.
“You’re taking me so well, dove. So fucking wet,” he said as he kissed you and let you get used to the large size.
“Feels nice.”
“Tell me if you don’t like it,” Steve whispered as he kissed your lips one last time before moving his mouth down your neck and finally thrusting his hips into you.
Everything seemed to amplify ten-fold. All of the pleasure, moans, tingling, stretching — it all felt so nice. It was if you two were the only people in the world, with the sky changing from a navy blue to a bright orange. Sweet nothings were whispered into the air as you both wanted to give each other the poetic justice you deserved.
Steve kissed you every time he heard your moans get louder and louder, wanting to taste your ecstasy. He moved back and forth from kissing your lips, to your neck, to your breasts. It all made you grip his hair tightly no matter where he was focusing on your body.
“Keep going please, Steve. Everything feels so full,” you screamed incoherently.
“God, you're throbbing around me. I don’t think I can take it.” The man above you was thrusting into you at an increasingly faster pace, missing the feeling of your warm pussy every time he was even an inch out of you.
“Steve, I wanna feel you cum,” you whispered before grabbing his hair to have him stop sucking on your nipples in order to look at you.
He adored how needy you were. “Dirty little mouth, Princess.”
“Need more — need you to go faster.”
“You know I've been dreaming about this moment time and time again. Who knew all it would take is a dirty novel, isn’t that right?” Steve teased as he reached town and pinched your clit playfully.
“You’ll never regret driving me to the bookstore from now on,” you giggled in between whimpers.
In truth, you didn’t notice the way you were moving yourself upwards to meet his thrusts. It made Steve bite his lip to stop himself from cumming inside of you prematurely. “Dove, you're taking me so well — fuck — better than I’ve ever imagined,” he moaned.
“What have you imagined? What were we doing?” you asked it so innocently, stroking his chest as he continued to thrust into you.
Where did you learn how to do that? — was what he really wanted to ask. Instead, his mind started to blurt out his fantasies.
“Sometimes I’d have you like this: fucked out and cock drunk in the middle of the night. Other times it would be me bending you over while you’re studying. Always wearing those tiny skirts with the slit.”
“For you, I wear it for you. I know the yellow skirt is your favourite, isn’t it?” You teased him now.
You always noticed the way he would ask you pick things up from the floor, mention that your shoes were untied while he was standing behind you, or the way he would always take off a piece of lint from the back of your skirt — even if you had just used a lint roller on it a few moments before. He loved the way the fabric would sway, and you loved the way he looked at you. It made you feel so warm even on the windiest and coldest of days.
One thing was for certain, it definitely felt like such a tease in comparison to how your heart and body felt right now.
“You little minx,” Steve moaned as he thrusted into you faster.
“Do you think I don’t imagine you ripping my skirt into a million pieces every time you stare at me?” the words fell from your lips breathily while Steve’s pace increased more and more. “You’re not so good at recognizing mirrors in front of you when you’re staring at the back of my tiny skirt, huh?”
“God, you like it when I’m being your perv, naughty girl,” Steve stated.
“Makes me feel nice. Just like this.”
Just then, Steve made sure that his thrusts and massages on your clit were working in tandem with the way your pussy was throbbing on his cock. He could tell with the way you were arching your back more and closing your eyes, that you were bound to orgasm soon. “You’re so beautiful, dove. So beautiful and taking me so well.”
“Oh my—” your voice sounded so sweet as you looked up at him with desperation in your eyes.
“That’s it, let it happen,” Steve grunted, making sure to stop himself from cumming so that he could time it with yours.
“Faster, please,” you nearly screamed now as everything was hitting you in all the perfect spots.
Steve took that as his sign to move faster: from his hands to his hips. He loved to see the way you were reaching your climax on his cock — an image he would never get out of his mind for the rest of his life. You were squeezing his hardness tighter and tighter, with your moans getting louder in tandem. And so, Steve angled his cock upwards to try and hit your sweetest spot inside of you.
And he did.
Good god, he did.
“That’s it, that’s my dove.” He chanted over and over as you were shaking beneath him, orgasming harder than you did previously.
“S-Steve, fuck.” You rarely swear, but to know that he was the one to cause this little word to fall from lips with such grace — it was the final straw for Steve.
He began to cum inside of you, your pussy milking him with each thrust. All of his arousal was filling you up to the point where it started to spill out and glisten all over your thighs. “So tight,” he whimpered above you.
For a few moments, you both came down from your highs. With a few thrusts and kisses, you allowed your bodies and heart rates to calm down as one. It was beautiful and so bewitching to experience it all. You weren’t so sure what it would be like now. Being friends for so long meant that you both knew so much about each other. However, now, you two seemed to see a lot of each other too. There was no turning back to what it was before. Not after everything felt so good in this way.
You both looked into each other’s eyes before kissing sweetly, enveloping each other in one last kiss before breaking apart under the morning sun’s rays.
“You are so beautiful,” Steve whispered as he moved to lay next to you.
“So are you,” you smiled while cuddling close to him.
“Are you alright?” He asked sweetly, kissing your forehead in the process.
“Yeah, I guess I feel a little sore,” you giggled as you moved your head upwards to feel your lips on his again.
Steve gasped into the kiss, breaking it apart to get some tissues from his nightstand. ���Do you need a bath, some water, or food?” He asked whilst wiping the remnants of his climax away on your thighs.
“I’m fine, Steve, I promise.” You smiled as he looked at you with the biggest hazel gaze.
Truthfully, you looked like a goddess glowing next to him with the dawn reflecting on your skin. He wasn’t sure if there were enough words in any dictionary to describe your beauty. Maybe not even from the book you were reading before bed. “How about you sleep for a bit and then when you wake up, I’ll have all your favourite breakfast foods on the kitchen table?” The offer was so tempting coming from Steve’s lips.
“Hmm, what if I want to help you?” You giggled. You weren’t sure if you wanted to be separate from him for too long. The place in between your thighs was begging for his touch again. “There is a scene in that book where the prince and the lady were eating breakfast and then—”
You stopped speaking when you saw Steve reach behind him to find the novel on his nightstand, before flipping pages in the book to see what you were talking about. “Maybe you should read this story to me another day and I can help you every time you get really excited during a scene,” he winked.
“Another day?”
“Yes, for now, we could get started on writing the beginning of our newest story, dove. If you would like to, of course.” Steve whispered the words as he hovered his lips above yours, teasing you with each breath that tickled your skin.
“I’d really, really love that,” you smiled up at him, bringing your arms around his neck in the process.
If one thing was for certain after tonight: both of you found comfort and love in each other’s arms — and later on in a few different sections of the book store too.
-:-:-:-:-
#my writing#writing#st fanfic#st fanfiction#fanfiction#kinktober#kinktober 2023#steve harrington x you#steve harrington x reader#steve harrington smut#LazyGhoulsKinktober2023#friends to lover#fluff#fluff and smut#best friend!steve#innocent!reader#perv!steve harrington#perv!steve harrington x innocent!reader#steve harrington x f!reader#afab reader#slight somnophilia#just the tip#st#stranger things#stranger things fanfic#stranger things fic#my fic#writing prompt#steve harrington#set before season 4
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stalemate
pairing: Frankie Morales x f!reader
words: 7.2k
summary: Frankie Morales is your best friend — until a drunken hookup tears you apart.
warnings: 18+ minors dni; friends -> enemies -> lovers, TF characters without the TF plot, no Tom (in this house we hate Tom), alcohol consumption, smoking, angst, jealousy, pining, Frankie & reader being idiots in love, explicit smut, size kink, brief mentions of drunk sex, bad / regretful sex (between reader & OC), oral (f!receiving), unprotected piv, creampie, multiple orgasms, use of pet names (bebita, querida, baby, etc.), grilled cheese as a love language, happy ending, I think that's it but let me know if I missed anything!
a/n: thank you so much to @javisashtray & @pedgito for beta-reading this for me <3 this is for all my frankie lovers out there (aka bitches with good taste). dividers are by cafekitsune. follow @joelscurlsupdates for fic notifications! enjoy :)
Frankie Morales makes the best grilled cheese you’ve ever had. Perfectly golden bread; gooey, melty cheese — just the thought of it makes you drool. He says he has a secret ingredient. Won’t let you in the kitchen while he cooks for you, lest you find out.
Sometimes, upon entering his apartment, you can already smell melted butter. He’ll have started on one without even asking if you want it. He knows you always do.
Sit, he’ll shout from the other room. I’ll be right there. Feel free to put something on — but please, not 13 Going on 30. You’ll thank him and question his distaste for Mark Ruffalo in the same breath: you’re the best, but it’s not my fault Matty is the dream man.
He’ll bring you the wafting plate along with a Corona, and insist that you eat before it goes cold while he makes one for himself. Ever the gentleman, ever the friend — at least he was.
Because the two of you haven’t spoken in a month; not since the drunken hookup that you’re both pretending didn’t happen.
You’d laughed the entire cab ride home from the bar. That last round of tequila shots had left you feeling good, all warm and giggly, and Frankie mirrored you in the backseat with his drunken grin. Eyes glassy, lips pulled wide, he’d smacked you lightly on the shoulder as you recalled Santiago’s pitiful loss in that third game of pool. “When he pocketed the eight-ball…” he trailed off into another fit of laughter.
“And then—“ you attempted, voice caught in your throat as another giggle barreled out. “—the cue hitting his drink!” Your entire body folded over, hands braced on Frankie’s thighs as the two of you struggled to regain composure. Through labored breaths, you squealed. “He’s never going to live that down!”
After a few particularly stressful months at work, you lived for these nights out with your friends. You’d met Frankie through your best friend Mal, who was dating his friend Benny, and your circles had eventually meshed into one. Sometimes it felt like it had always been that way, like you’d known the guys your entire life.
Especially Frankie.
Your friendship was a special one — punctuated by frequent trips to the movies to watch the latest horrible slasher film; by nights spent yapping on the phone about nothing in particular. He’d become a constant in your life. Never, in your right mind, would you even dream of doing anything to jeopardize that—
“You look really hot tonight, by the way.”
He shouldn’t have said that. He shouldn’t have. But then it was you who leaned in closer, you who rested your hand on his hip and plucked the Standard Heating Oil cap off his head, placing it atop your own.
It was you who kissed him first.
He deepened it though — that was all him — large, restless hands grasping at your sides, your back, your face; tongue pushing past the seam of your lips to press against yours. He’d groaned into your mouth when the cab stopped at the curb in front of your building. Cursed under his breath when you pulled away.
And then, your voice ragged and breathless, you’d asked, “do you want to come in for a bit?”
It was a mistake. A horrible, blissful mistake. Waking up with sticky thighs and Frankie’s thumbprint bruised into your hip, you’d found his side of the bed cold; your inbox empty. He hadn’t called, hadn’t texted. Still hasn’t.
The aftermath is cursory glances. Half-assed greetings and pleasantries murmured across the bar. Which you don’t mind, really. You don’t want to speak to him. He’d probably just feed you some lie about losing track of time, not remembering what happened that night.
You wish you could forget it.
The visual is fuzzy; fleeting. But his voice — god, his voice — it still rings in your ears, drips at the nape of your neck like a leaking tap: fuck, baby, knew you’d take my cock; feel so good wrapped around me.
Your friends don’t know. They can’t; they wouldn’t let you live it down. Benny has made plenty of offhand comments already about you and Frankie being perfect for each other, having the same stubborn disposition. Mal does nothing to shut him up. Instead, she encourages him. Tells him he’s so right.
You’re pretty sure your eyeballs are going to fall out someday from glaring too hard.
Because you’re not perfect for each other — far from it, actually. Fuck, you can’t even communicate effectively. How could you ever be in a real relationship?
Not that you want that. Frankie is…well, Frankie. Sure, he’d felt undeniably incredible on top of you, inside of you — but he isn’t the type to settle down. In fact, you don’t think you’ve ever heard Frankie talk about dating.
Besides, he’s clearly not interested in being anyone’s anything right now. Not even your friend.
It hurts; cuts deeper than you care to admit. Just weeks ago, you’d spent an entire weekend at his place, marathoning the X Files and gorging on cold pizza. Now, he won’t even look your way for more than a few seconds.
Won’t make you a fucking grilled cheese.
It’s a Friday night, which means you’re meeting your friends at Sid’s. The glow of neon seeping through the windows of the old dive bar is warm and inviting as you step out of your rideshare and make your way toward the doors.
Frankie is sitting at the bar with Santiago when you enter. Hunched shoulders, narrowed eyes trained on his bottle of Corona, he appears detached from whatever Santi is saying to him. He doesn’t acknowledge you when you stroll up to them — not until his friend’s hand lands hard on his back, pulling his attention away from the beer. He offers a half-assed hello and an even more half-assed half-hug, and then he’s sliding back onto his barstool.
Ever-oblivious, Santiago doesn’t seem to notice the way Frankie curls in on himself; the way your back is up like an agitated cat’s.
Mal and Benny turn up minutes later, immediately ordering a round of shots for the group. You down the liquor eagerly, not bothering to lean on salt and lime to numb the sting. You want to feel it. You order another before joining Mal and the guys at a pool table in the back, letting the acid slide down your throat with no more than a wince as Santi racks the balls.
“Alright Fish, you’re up,” he says. “Me and you. Whoever loses buys the next round.”
You watch as Frankie quirks a brow at him. Takes a swig of his beer. “You sure you want to make that bet, Pope?”
Santi grins; nods confidently. “Hell yeah, I do.” The rest of you don’t bother to suppress your laughter. You catch a glimpse of Frankie, head thrown back, his broad, glistening neck exposed, and you have to fight to ignore the sudden panging in your chest.
When Santi inevitably loses, you order a vodka soda. You’re already feeling a bit tipsy after two shots in less than twenty minutes, so the drink goes down smooth; quick. There’s a rush to your head as you settle back at the bar and fiddle with the wrapper to your straw, letting the slightly soggy paper roll between two fingers.
You barely notice when Frankie slots in a few seats down, your attention drawn only when you hear his voice. It’s deep — sounds just like it did when he had his chest pressed to your back in the dim light of your bedroom — and his intonation nearly gives you whiplash.
When you snap your head up to look at him, you find he’s speaking to a woman. Her back is turned to you, long, dark hair tossed over her shoulder and her elbow resting casually on the bartop, but you imagine she must be beautiful by the way Frankie is visibly fawning over her. You’re staring, you hear her tease. Can’t help it, comes his reply.
Something like discomfort builds in your throat. Rises up up up. You take a long sip of your drink, letting vodka and sugar push it down.
You’ve never seen Frankie flirt with anyone, apart from you. It’s strangely unsettling, listening to him smooth-talk her. I’m a pilot, you know, he brags; could take you up in the sky someday if you wanted. Her giddy squeal comes seconds later; really? You’d do that for me?
You feel bad for her. She doesn’t know yet that all he’ll do is disappoint her.
He feeds her lines as you sip on your drink, citrus and grain burning only when he tells her: yeah, I came with friends; they’re all over there. Gestures toward Benny, Mal and Santi standing around the pool table in the back.
Scoffing, you stand from your seat at the bar and retreat to the patio. You don’t bother to check if Frankie is looking.
It’s cooler here, a sobering breeze carrying salt air with it as it wafts by. A few patrons have spilled outside, most smoking on faintly glowing cigarettes as they talk and laugh boisterously among themselves. You’d planned to sit alone, to plant yourself on a bench and enjoy your drink in solitude. But then a stranger is approaching you — a man, cigarette grasped between two of his fingers — and he’s asking you for a light.
He’s in his mid thirties, if you had to guess. Curly, dark hair sprouts every which way from his scalp; rounded, green eyes studying you as he awaits a response. He’s tall, though not as tall as Frankie. His shoulders aren’t nearly as broad and his chest isn’t quite as wide. His t-shirt hangs loose around his torso, swallowing his narrow frame — dissimilar to the way Frankie’s button-down clings to him.
Then again — why are you even comparing? Maybe the opposite of Frankie is exactly what you need.
You’ll have to seduce this stranger first, though. Not that it seems like it’ll be very difficult. His eyes are already raking over you, lips turned up at the corner as you take a casual sip of your drink.
“I don’t smoke,” you admit apologetically.
“Ah — that’s alright.”
He has an accent; midwestern, maybe? You don’t bother to ask. You don’t care, really. It doesn’t matter. All that matters is—
“You here all by yourself?”
“Yeah,” he laughs at your lack of subtlety. “Are you?”
“No,” you say. “My friends are inside.” Lowering your voice, you add, “but I was thinking about leaving soon.”
“Why’s that? Early morning tomorrow?”
You shake your head. Rub at your neck as if working out a knot, a contented hum pushing past your lips at the press of fingers into skin. Your stranger’s eyes trail rather conspicuously downward.
“Just over it,” you sigh exasperatedly. “I’d much rather be home…in bed…out of these clothes.”
You pull gently at the strap of your dress, as if you can’t bear the sensation of it against your shoulder any longer.
Your stranger’s gaze darkens, and the grip on his box of cigarettes grows tighter.
“You uh — want some company — once I find a light?”
Too fucking easy.
“Sure,” you giggle.
He slips away only for a minute or two, giving you just enough time to second-guess yourself. You know nothing about this man, not even his name; only that he smokes American Spirits and smells like tobacco. Should you really go home with him?
But then you think of Frankie inside — talking up a woman at the bar, pretending that you don’t exist — and that just about makes up your mind for you.
Your stranger reappears, now-lit cigarette dangling from his lips. The tip of it rages red and angry, and you think you know how that feels.
He smirks at you as he stuffs the pack into the front pocket of his jeans. An unceremonious silence hangs in the air as he sucks on the filter and puffs out a string of smoke. You wait patiently for him, quietly.
He snuffs the butt of his cigarette out in a nearby ashtray. Takes your empty cup and discards that too.
Can’t wait to get you home, he whispers in your ear then. You feign arousal, peering up at him and batting your eyelashes. Me neither, you mewl. Let’s go.
You lead him back through the bar, finding Mal and letting her know that you’ll be going. She seems a little perplexed, quirking a brow at you as you grip tightly onto your stranger’s arm, but she tells you to have fun anyway. Text me, she mouths as you make your way to the exit.
You only get a few feet, though, before you’re intercepted.
Frankie is blocking the door, arms crossed, a panic-stricken look on his face that you can’t quite comprehend. “Hey,” he says, “can I talk to you real quick?”
Your stranger backs off. Lets go of your arm and starts out the door. “I’ll wait outside,” he says, slipping away with a wink before you can protest.
The bar is bustling with noise, people in every corner drinking and laughing and dancing. Strangely, though, you’ve never felt so alone. So vulnerable. And you hate that Frankie has this power over you, the innate ability to make you feel so fucking small. It’s infuriating, it’s—
“Are you sure you want to leave with him?”
“Excuse me?” you scoff.
Frankie stares you down, face red, eyes inky-black. “You don’t know this guy, do you? What if he’s a murderer or something? Or like — a pervert?”
He’s grasping at straws, you know it. It’s why you laugh; roll your eyes.
“What are you, my keeper?”
“No, it’s just — I’m just concerned for your safety, okay?”
You’re briefly stunned. After weeks of ignoring you, he cares about your wellbeing? How can he be so hypocritical?
“I’m fine,” you bite back. “Why don’t you go back to your girl at the bar? Worry about getting yourself some instead?”
He’s wounded, if only slightly. His lips part like he might retaliate, but he’s silent. Dejected. Satisfied, you brush past him. March out the door without so much as a parting glance.
Finding your stranger leaning against the bar’s brick exterior, you force a smile. He outstretches a hand and you take it, reluctantly. “Ready to go?” he asks.
You’re not so sure anymore, but you nod anyway. Squeeze your stranger’s bicep and preen under his lustful gaze when he tenses in your grip. “Yeah,” you purr. “I’m ready.”
Cold air bites at your toes the following morning. It wakes you from a deep slumber; bitterly pulls you into consciousness. Confused, you yank at the covers. But a mysterious weight holds them in place, and only then do you remember then that you’re not alone.
Eyes sliding open reluctantly, you scan the room. Your dress from the night before is draped over the chair in the corner, your stranger’s clothes piled up on the floor nearby. He snores next to you, an arm raising to hang above his head, and you shift. Slip out of bed and pull a t-shirt on before padding into the bathroom.
Early morning light spills across tile, bounces off the mirror above the sink. You squint, shuffling over to the window and yanking the blinds closed. Then you check for damage in your reflection. Your makeup from the night before has stained your cheeks and your eyes look as tired as you feel, but otherwise there appears to be no physical evidence of your rock bottom.
The sex wasn’t great — not even good, really. Your stranger had lasted all of three minutes, had fanned his hot breath across the shell of your ear as he came, and then collapsed on top of you. Rolled over and drifted to sleep. He’d started snoring before you could even process what had just happened.
Cold water splashed across your cheeks does nothing to cool the burn of regret that scorches your skin. You feel uncomfortable, almost as if your body is tainted, now, remnants of your stranger leaking from between your thighs as you steady yourself at the edge of the sink.
He must’ve heard the tap, or maybe the pounding in your chest, because he emerges seconds later. He yawns and stretches, feline-like, in the doorway. “Hey,” he mutters. “How’d you sleep?”
“Pretty good,” you say, eyes twitching slightly as you will them to stay put above his waistline.
“You always up this early?”
You nod. It’s a lie, but he doesn’t need to know that you’d nearly jumped out of bed at the sight of him still there. He doesn’t need to know that for a split second, you’d almost hoped it was Frankie.
He asks if you want to get breakfast. You shake your head in faux-sympathy. “Sorry, can’t. I was hoping to get some cleaning done.”
“I could stick around and help,” he offers.
Jesus Christ. Just take the fucking hint.
“That’s so nice of you; I’m just more efficient by myself,” you lie again.
If Frankie were here, he’d grab the cleaning rags out of the closet just off the kitchen. He knows where they’re kept: second shelf, on the left. He’d wipe down the counters and the coffee table while you’d work on clearing dishes, disposing of pizza scraps. And he’d probably put on his dad-rock playlist — against your wishes — though you’d inevitably find yourself dancing to Foo Fighters and giggling when he’d sing along and mess up the words.
It begins to sink in then, as you shoo your stranger, now dressed, out the door, that your attempt to use sex as a way to get Frankie out of your head was useless. He’s still there, refusing quite adamantly to budge, all mussed curls and big eyes and deep voice. There’s no evidence that he’ll be leaving any time soon.
The revelation renders you nauseous. You spend the rest of the day with a hangover that you’re sure has not been induced by alcohol. And by the time night falls, darkness descending over your bedroom like a fog, you still feel sick.
A week later, you drag yourself to Benny and Mal’s for their monthly game night. You’d tried to get out of it, told Mal you haven’t been feeling great — which isn't a total lie — but she’d begged you until you broke.
Will is coming, and it’ll be the first time we’ve all gotten together in over a year, she’d whined through the receiver.
And then-
I know things were weird between you and Frankie last time at the bar, but you can’t let that stop us from seeing each other.
How do you know that, you’d asked, chewing on your bottom lip, the phone tucked between your ear and your shoulder.
He basically moped around the rest of the night after you left. Kept bitching about you leaving with that guy. He seemed really…agitated. You don’t have to tell me what happened, just please don’t bail.
So you’re here, steeling yourself as you climb the steps to the front door, hoping that if nothing else, you can make it through the night without strangling Frankie for his lack of discretion.
You enter the house with baited breath.
Your eyes immediately catch Frankie, tucked into the corner of the sectional, fingers wrapped tightly around his beer. He meets your gaze briefly before letting it slip to the floor by his feet, as if he’s trying to pretend he hasn’t seen you at all.
“Hi,” you try.
He looks back up at you, or rather past you. Taps his fingers along the bottle for a long moment. “Hey,” he says finally, to the wall behind your head.
“How have you been?” the words come out forced, almost foreign. You shift your weight awkwardly and he sighs.
“Fine. I’m fine.”
“Right,” you mutter. More silence. “Me too, in case you were wondering.”
“Good,” he says, voice cold. “That’s good.”
You’re not sure whether you want to slap him or kiss him. Because as infuriating as he’s being right now, he looks gorgeous, denim shirt hugging his biceps, his shoulders; stray curls peaking out from under that stupid Standard Heating Oil hat. You yearn to rip it off his head, run your fingers through his hair, nip along the sharp line of his jaw; the broad expanse of his neck.
You long to feel something other than the prominent ache that’s permeated your body for weeks, now. And you fear that he’s the only one who’d be able to alleviate it.
Your mouth opens again just as Benny emerges from the kitchen. Whatever words you were about to utter are lost in the ether as he pulls you into a suffocating hug and thanks you for coming.
“Mal’s in the kitchen,” he says. Grabs a handful of Lays from a bowl on the coffee table and shovels them into his mouth. Still chewing, he adds, “we got those wine coolers you like; they’re in the fridge.”
With a hurried thanks, you slip away unscathed.
You find Mal crouched in front of the open fridge, rustling through a produce drawer stocked with beer cans.
“Hey,” you announce.
She seems almost surprised to see you when she cranes her neck toward your voice, despite your promise to show. Eyebrows raised, mouth slightly agape, it’s as if she’s waiting for the other shoe to drop. She pulls another drawer open. Fishes out a wine cooler and passes it to you with an outstretched arm.
You take it in one hand. Help her up with the other.
“You’re here,” she says, and it sounds like more of a question than a statement.
“Yeah. I said I would be.”
“I know, I know. It’s just — I wasn’t sure. The whole Frankie thing…”
“It’s nothing; I promise,” you lie. “Water under the bridge. We’re fine.”
She quirks a brow at you, disbelief coloring her features, but she lets it go. Closes the fridge with a thunk and adjusts her sweater at the hem. “Good,” she says. “I don’t want you two ruining game night.”
It’s half a joke, but you know deep down she means it. She takes this all very seriously. Back in college, she’d forced you and your suitemates to play Cards Against Humanity with her every weekend. None of you had the heart to tell her when it started to grow monotonous, and so the tradition carried on well past graduation, eventually evolving into a new tradition with new friends.
Games bring people together, she’d said once over a round of Monopoly that had stretched well into the night, resulting in delirious laughter and a warm, fuzzy feeling in your chest.
You’d believed her at the time. Now, you’re not so sure that it’s foolproof.
The two of you rejoin the guys in the living room, Santiago and Will having shown up in your absence. You greet them as Benny pulls out a stack of game boxes. Settle on the couch, as far away from Frankie as you can manage.
It starts during the second round of Charades.
The first round had gone fine — good, even. Teamed up with Santi and Will, you’d avoided eye contact with Frankie for the whole of it. Focused only on guessing Santi’s horribly-mimed clues in between handfuls of trail mix and sips of watermelon-flavored bubbles.
It’d felt a bit like old times, all of you in one room again. Mal snuggling into Benny on the loveseat; Will catching his brother up on time spent touring the country, giving motivational speeches to recently discharged veterans. He’d asked you how you’ve been as Santi studied his next word, and you’d remembered then that everything was very much not how it once was.
And you hadn’t missed Frankie’s discomfort at the question; the way he set his beer bottle down on the table with a bit too much force, glass clanging against wood. Though if Will noticed too, he hadn’t said anything. Just moved into a story about some woman he met on the road that reminded him of you.
Santi’s turn had ended with a whopping zero points for your team, and now Frankie is standing at the front of the room, unfolding the scrap of paper in his hand and reading it to himself. In the lull, you find yourself staring at him, eyes near glazing over at the sight of the tiny paper pinched between long, thick fingers. Fingers you remember the reach of, the weight of.
He crumples the paper and stuffs it into his pocket, signaling that he’s ready to go. Mal flips over the sand timer on the table. And you almost don’t notice at first when he starts, mind occupied by equal parts lust and annoyance, that he’s fucking mouthing the phrase.
You watch, enraged, as Benny squints to read his lips. He raises his hand excitedly and jumps to his feet; yells out the answer with a sureness that Frankie affirms with a nod.
“That’s right. It’s the Empire State Building.”
“That’s fucking cheating!” you shout, a bit angrier than the situation calls for, and the room grows quiet. Fury coursing through you, you add, “are you fucking serious, Frankie?”
You feel the eyes on you; the awkward sheen you’ve cast over the room. Mal shifts across from you, glaring when you turn to face her, and you laugh defensively.
“What, nobody else thinks that’s unfair?”
“Please,” Frankie sneers.
“No, she’s right,” Santi tries — ever the peacemaker. “We’ll just add a rule going forward; no mouthing the words.”
“Fuck that,” you hiss. “I want their point taken away.”
Frankie scoffs from the other side of the room. “Bullshit! We earned that before the rule was added.”
You’re fuming now, standing to get a bit closer to his height; though he still towers over you. Mal is right on your heels, placing a hand on your shoulder in an attempt to placate you. You brush her off. Take another stride toward Frankie.
“There shouldn’t need to be an official rule against it, Frankie. It’s common fucking sense — which clearly, you have none of.”
Visibly offended, he says nothing. Just tenses his jaw.
“Why did you come tonight?” you continue, voice more level now; direct.
You hear your name uttered behind you, tone pleading, warning. You ignore it.
“Seriously, why?”
He’s quiet for a long, drawn-out moment, eyes pointed at the floor again.
“What are you talking about?” he spits, finally.
You laugh, amused and irritated, and these things somehow feel one in the same. “I mean, clearly you don’t want to be in my presence or even acknowledge my existence — unless it’s to cockblock me — so why are you here?”
His brows furrow; lips twist. For a second, you think he might actually leave. He adjusts his cap, jangles the car key in his pocket — but Benny stops him before he can take a step.
“Just — cut it out, okay? Both of you.”
“He’s the one-“
“I don’t care,” Benny interjects. Scanning the room, you catch sight of Santi and Will and Mal, all visibly agitated, and you sigh.
Guilt washes over you, then. The twisting of Santi’s face, Mal’s doleful stare, the wordless look exchanged between Benny and Will. All confirm your fear that you’ve effectively ruined their night.
“I’m sorry,” you mumble.
Frankie echoes your apology. Still, the others aren’t impressed.
“I don’t know what’s been going on lately with you two, but you need to figure this shit out,” Benny says. He sounds like a parent: stern and slightly disappointed. “Can you please just — go in the other room and talk through it?”
Though you haven’t much cared for Frankie’s opinion as of late, you still turn to him to gauge his reaction. He appears just as hesitant as you are, just as guilt-stricken. But something more lurks behind his eyes — something like fear, anxiety. Why, you aren’t sure.
You raise a brow at him, a wordless question. He answers with a sigh.
“Fine,” you both say at once.
“Thank goodness,” Mal chimes. Herding you two like cattle with a hand on each of your backs, she leads you out of the living room and into the adjoining hallway.
Her voice drones behind you as you make your way toward the third door on the right. Shall we continue the game?
The guest room is primly kept. It appears almost untouched at first glance, though you know that to be untrue. You’ve stayed here before, after blurry nights spent drinking shitty gin and singing karaoke. That must’ve been years ago now, though, after Mal and Benny first bought this house, and you begin to wonder if your tumultuous friendship with Frankie only made you neglect your friendship with her. And that only adds to the anger stirring inside of you — because what was it all worth, if it’s ended up like this?
Frankie closes the door behind him with a click, and the air in the room feels exponentially thicker.
“What the fuck was that?” you hiss.
He scoffs. “Me? You’re the one who freaked out and started an argument over nothing!”
“It wasn’t nothing. You were cheating.”
“Please.” He rolls his eyes. Takes two steps toward you. “That’s not what this is about and you know it.”
“Oh,” you laugh, “so you are aware that you’ve been an asshole?”
He says your name, voice suddenly lower, softer. Your entire body tenses as you struggle to keep strong, to not think about how it sounded in your ear in the midst of pleasure.
“I wasn’t trying to be-”
You throw a hand up; silence him. “Well you have been,” you groan. “You’ve been a huge fucking asshole. You hurt me, Frankie. You were my best friend, and then you just… stopped returning my texts. You won’t even look at me when we’re in the same room together. Did you regret it that much?”
The room goes still. You watch as Frankie’s chest rises and falls arduously, his eyes settling on you. They’re dark, pupils blown wide, squeezing shut as he exhales long and hard.
“No.”
You quirk a brow at him, confused.
“No?”
“No,” he repeats, averting his gaze. “And that’s the problem — I didn’t regret it at all.” His eyes lift slowly, finding you again, voice more sure when he adds, “I’ve wanted it for a long time”
You can barely comprehend what he’s saying, your heart climbing its way out of your ribcage and up your throat. You gulp, feeling the shape of it there as saliva slowly slides past.
He takes another two steps forward, mere inches from you now, and your breath hitches.
“Do you know how difficult it’s been to look at you without getting fucking hard?” he whispers. “How many times I’ve fucked my fist in the past month imagining it was you?”
Your mouth falls open, stunned. “That girl at the bar-”
He shakes his head. “I thought maybe if I fucked someone else, it would help.”
“And did it?”
“I didn’t — I didn’t go home with her,” he admits, a little bashfully. “I couldn’t do it.”
His hand lifts, then, cautious and shaky. It finds its way to your face, grazes your jaw so softly you’d think you imagined it if you couldn’t see.
“Why not?” you squeak.
He nods, as if he’s finally accepting something he’s known to be true, admitting it to himself before he does so out loud.
“Because she wasn’t you.”
It feels as if your entire world has spun on its axis.
Without thinking, you wrap your hand around Frankie’s neck and pull him toward you, crashing your lips into his with a groan. He’s quick to respond, desperately tangling his fingers in your hair and winding his tongue around yours, a broken moan slipping from his throat.
For a long moment, that’s all it is. It’s clashing teeth and restless hands; the draw of blood and the taste of it, earthy and metallic on your tongue. It’s the two of you, reconciling for lost time and unshared feelings and the overlooked need for each other through tangled bodies.
And when you finally pull apart, his lips are swollen and his eyes are glazed over, and you’re sure you don’t look much different.
“Frankie,” you whine as his mouth latches to your neck, warm and wet. He doesn’t retreat; just hums against you.
“Need you,” you say breathlessly. “Need you to touch me.”
His large hand skates down your front, under the waistband of your leggings. He presses two fingers against your clothed clit, and your knees buckle. You lean into him, bracing yourself with a hand on his chest as he begins rubbing small, deliberate circles into cotton.
Lips trailing up to your ear, he nibbles at the lobe. Presses his tongue just behind the shell of it and sighs. “Been wanting this since that night. Want to make you feel good. Want to do it right.”
You mewl in response, high-pitched and too loud, and you have to bite into his shoulder to keep from crying out again. He’s still working you toward the brink, pace relentless, beseeching you every time you buck into his hand.
There you go baby, that’s it; I got you.
You know he does, can feel the support of his unoccupied hand at the small of your back, holding you to his strong body. And god, how you’ve missed the feeling of it pressed to yours. You think that that alone could make you come.
You feel yourself slipping as your orgasm approaches, legs slumping underneath you more and more with every pass of his fingers. “Frankie,” you warn, teeth still anchored in his skin. “I’m going to-“
The words are muffled, but he gets it. Presses down harder and works his fingers faster. “Come on baby,” he growls in your ear, “come on.”
Your orgasm hits you so hard that you collapse, your body dead weight in Frankie’s grip as you writhe. He grasps onto you tightly, working you through it with his unyielding touch, swiping back and forth, back and forth as the final waves crest.
You’re panting when it ends, and still when Frankie helps you to the edge of the bed. Perched there, staring up at him with glassy eyes, you realize you’ve never felt so sated and so needy at the same time.
“Frankie?”
“Yeah, baby?”
“Please fuck me.”
He should probably say no. After all, you’re in your friends’ guest room, people just a few hundred feet on the other side of the door. But then again, he’s already made you come.
You watch him consider it, eyes flickering to the door and back to you, dark and deep and pooling with want.
In the end, he can’t help himself.
“Can you be quiet, querida?”
You nod, though you’re sure that even if you said no, he wouldn’t care. He’d do just as he’s doing now: pressing your shoulder, encouraging you to lay down on the bed; helping you pull your sneakers off, then your leggings, then your shirt; stepping back to marvel at your half-naked form before him.
“Fucking beautiful,” he murmurs, and your entire body heats from the inside out. You feel like you’re on fire, his stare keeping you alight as he undresses down to his boxers.
He climbs over you with a hand on either side of your head, pressed into the mattress. The lip of his hat bumps you, and you immediately rip it off of him, tossing it aside and tangling your fingers in dark curls.
You tug at them, dragging him down until his face is hovering just above yours, and he responds with a strangled moan. His body pressed to yours now, you can feel the weight of his hard cock against your clothed pussy. Your mouth finds his again in a languid kiss — slow and deep. You feed each other sighs and moans, taste each other’s longing. His hips roll into yours with every exhale, teasing you — reminding you, and you feel like you’re steadily going insane.
He pulls back, panting. Rests his forehead on yours.
“Can I take this off?” he asks, plucking at the strap of your bra. You nod furiously. Lift the upper half of your body so that he can undo the clasps.
Breasts suddenly exposed, you feel your nipples begin to harden. Frankie groans at the sight of them, so pert and needing. Wordlessly, he dips his head, buries his face in your chest. His tongue wraps around one of your nipples and you cry out, hand flying to your mouth in an instant.
“Oh fuck,” you moan into your palm.
“Feel good?” he asks, knowing smirk playing on his lips as he shifts his focus to the other nipple. You feel so sensitive everywhere, the heft of his tongue going straight to your clit, and you can barely answer him. A shaky yes tumbles from your mouth — the best you can do. He hums, so low the vibrations burrow under your skin and barrel through you, and you keen at the sensation.
“God, you sound so pretty,” he sighs as he rolls one of your stiff peaks between two fingers. His other hand drifts down your body, dips between the two of you and pulls your panties aside.
“Fuck,” he curses, fingertip brushing over your seam just barely. “You’re soaked, bebita. That all for me?”
“Mhm,” you whine. “All for you Frankie; fuck-“
He’s shifts down your body, hooks both arms under your legs and drags you toward him in one swift motion, leaving you no time to process before his tongue is on your pussy. “Have to taste you,” he babbles drunkenly, plunging into your leaking cunt and lapping at you.
“Oh, oh shit,” you moan as he drags his tongue up to your clit. “Please baby, please.”
“I know; I got you,” he soothes. Then he begins to lave your clit with the soft flat of his tongue, warm muscle encircling the throbbing nub. Wide eyes staring up at you, he observes intently. Responds to every sound, every tell with a switch in direction or an increase in pressure. He’s so attentive, so desperate to make you come on his mouth, and it sends you into a sort of delirium.
Your second orgasm hits you out of nowhere, slams through your body with so much intensity, you don’t even have the strength to warn Frankie before your release is gushing all over his face and, undoubtedly, the bed below.
He growls against your cunt. Comes up for air and kisses you hard, letting you taste yourself on his tongue as he tugs his boxers down and frees his aching cock. Notches at your entrance without detaching his lips from yours.
It’s a stretch — you recall it being so last time too — though the alcohol had done wonders to loosen your body. Now, you feel every devastating inch of him as he pushes in. He’s gentle. Tells you how good you’re doing as he feeds you more and more of his cock. There you go, that’s my girl, taking it so well for me. And for some reason, him calling you his nearly makes you come again.
He notices the way you preen in response. Thumbs across the slope of your jaw as he settles inside you. “You like that, baby? Like me calling you mine?”
“Yes, Frankie — fuck. Want it.”
You don’t specify whether you mean him or his cock. You’re not entirely sure. Not that it matters. You know he’ll give you both, give you anything. Can feel it in the way he gazes at you through heart-shaped eyes as he lets you adjust to him.
“So fucking beautiful, you know that?”
Your eyes roll back and saliva pools in your mouth. “God,” you breathe.
“I’m serious,” he says, finally beginning to move. The slow drag of his cock brushes your g-spot and you gasp. “Was so stupid before, fucking you drunk. Wanna remember every second, every noise you make, every inch of your perfect fucking body.”
“Jesus, Frankie.”
He pushes back in with one deep thrust. Sets a pace that, while not rough, definitely isn’t gentle. You begin to babble and writhe under him. Hook your legs around him so he can get even deeper.
He groans. “Tell me how it feels, baby.”
“It’s so fucking good,” you cry. “Feels like fucking heaven, Frankie.”
“Nah, that’s you.” He lets his head fall on your shoulder, drives into you faster. Pants into the crook of your neck. “Perfect fucking pussy.”
It ends all too quickly — with your fingernails dug into his back and his sweaty curls sticking to your forehead. Your cunt clenching around his cock, pulling his orgasm out of him just as yours begins to roll through you. You free fall from the cliff’s edge together, breathless moans spilling between your slotted mouths, his warmth flooding you and leaking from the place you’re still connected.
As the room around you slowly comes back into focus, you hear the sound of distant laughter. Benny’s boisterous chuckle and Mal’s much softer one. Clearly distracted, they’re likely blissfully unaware of what’s just happened. You giggle, covering your face as Frankie pulls out.
“What’s so funny?” he asks, prying your hands away.
“We’re gonna have to get them a new bedspread. We just defiled this one.”
He stands, then, pulling you upright with him. You squeal as blood rushes to your head and your vision goes staticky.
“Worth it,” he smirks. Gives you a chaste kiss. “Got my girl back.”
You dress and rejoin the group as inconspicuously as possible. Pray they don’t notice the way you’re wobbling on your feet, or the sheen of sweat that’s coated your skin.
“You sort everything out?” Santi smirks knowingly as you reassume your place on the couch, Frankie settling back into the corner.
“Yeah,” he mutters, refusing to make eye contact.
“It’s about time,” Benny shouts from the kitchen. Frankie’s head shoots up, pivots toward his voice.
“What do you mean?”
He emerges in the doorway with a shit-eating grin. Mal stifles a laugh from the loveseat.
“Just saying it’s about time,” he shrugs. “That’s all.”
Shit; apparently you hadn’t been as quiet as you thought.
The others chuckle as you and Frankie exchange a mortified look. The embarrassment is short lived though, Will clapping his hands together, asking what game you all want to play next.
An hour later, after a couple rounds of Codenames and another wine cooler, you head out the door with Frankie right beside you. It feels odd, not hiding anymore. But more so, it feels right.
He leans you against your SUV under silver moonlight. Kisses you with plush, soft lips against yours; restless hands roving up your sides. Pulls back with a suspiciously large grin.
You cock an eyebrow at him. “What?”
“Nothing,” he says. “Just glad I stopped being an idiot.”
“I don’t know about that,” you tease, and he smacks you gently on the arm.
“Come over?” he asks, his hand draped over your waist.
You think on it for only a second. Nod. “Yeah. As long as you make me a grilled cheese.”
“That can be arranged.”
end notes: thank you so much for reading! if you enjoyed, please consider commenting and/or reblogging :)
#Frankie Morales#Frankie Morales x reader#Frankie Morales x f!reader#Frankie Morales x female reader#Frankie Morales fic#Frankie Morales smut#Frankie Morales fanfiction#Triple Frontier#Triple Frontier fic#Triple Frontier fanfiction#pedro pascal characters#pedro pascal fic#pedro pascal fanfiction#pedro pascal smut
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Why Vox needs to GET THE FUCK OVER THE RADIO DEMON:
(By Velvette, the only competent of the Vees)
(Her list for Valentino here)
1. He’s just not into you
2. We have better things to do than allocate company time to this.
3. He makes you look stupid
4a. He makes US look stupid (and Valentino already does that enough)
4b. Seriously how are we supposed to stop your boy toy from chasing whore around town when you can’t do the same with your ex? We need to set a (gag) good example for him.
5. What do you even see in him? Tacky coat. And that voice is so old-school.
6. You have two people who (reluctantly) want to work with you. Why spend energy on a guy who doesn’t?
7. This was seven years ago babe. Give it up.
8. I’m tired of finding your Alastor Body Pillow around the penthouse
9. Speaking of the body pillow, did you really have to spend 5k on it?
10. Company money should be used for COMPANY things. The fact we even have an “Alastor” budget is stupid. HE DOESNT EVEN GO HERE. ( @onesidedradiostatic )
11. He fucked off once, he probably will again.
12. Do you really want to fuck with someone who has the princess and king of Hell on his side?
13. It makes Valentino insecure about his sexual prowess, which is not good for anyone.
14. I have to LISTEN to him complain about it.
15. No matter how hard you try, nobody will ever beat “Susan” for #1 rival in that man’s heart. (Which is valid cause Susan SUCKS.)
16. Also you’re wasting company time by having Val put together shitty-Alastor look alike porns? Angel Dust does NOT look like Radio Demon ffs, I though Val was the blind one not you.
17. Your screens keep crapping out whenever you think about him, and we’re running out of ones in storage.
18a. I don’t want to keep having to go to overlord meetings for you because you’re having a breakdown over of he’ll be there or not.
18b. Speaking of breakdowns, STOP MAKING THE WHOLE CITY LOSE POWER.
19. You’ve taken over the entire office space with your Alastor-shrine. It’s not really an inconvenience, just creepy.
20a. Not to kinkshame but I walked in on you and Val fucking with Alastor-wigs on, REALLY?!
20b. Also I think you’re making Val insecure about his lack of hair.
21. STOP asking me to design Alastor-cosplay clothes for you. I don’t want anything to do with this.
22. I already have to deal with one pissbaby
23. Seriously, he isn’t into you. Maybe it’s cause you’re a mess. Maybe it’s cause he’s AROACE. Who knows.
24. You keep interrupting channels to brainwash people into hating the Radio Demon, when we should be brainwashing them into other things.
25. We can all hear you talking to yourself in the shower when trying to come up with shitty comebacks.
26. You display your dreams when you sleep, and while it was funny at first at this point it’s so boring. Val and I want to watch something actually interesting for once rather than the same shit.
27. You keep glitching out in bisexual whenever he comes up and it’s annoying waiting for you to put your shit back together again.
28. I’m sick of movie nights where we just watch your self-made compilations of “Alastor’s Epic Fails” or just watch security footage of him at the hotel.
29. Why do you even try and film him? Your shitty cameras can pick hardly anything up.
30. Honestly this whole thing is just pathetic.
31. Like it used to be cute but now?
#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel memes#velvette hazbin hotel#the vees#valentino hazbin hotel#vox hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel vox#hazbin vox#voxval#staticradio#radiostatic#one sided#OneWayBroadcast#lostsignal#stupid hazbin hotel lists#staticmoth#hazbin hotel crack
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“i’ve got the ice cream!” gojo announces as he steps into the apartment.
despite the urgency conveyed over his call with you, not a soul appears to greet him like the hero that he is. instead, he’s greeted by the perked ears and alert looks of four shikigami wolves lounging under the sun rays stretched across the kitchen floor.
he carefully steps over them to grab four spoons. “where are your summoners?”
your dogs tilt their heads, pretending not to understand him. megumi’s puppies don’t even bother with pretending, turning around and setting their fluffy bottoms down with a huff.
“useless animals,” he scoffs, venturing into the apartment to look for everyone.
he eventually finds the three of you in the bedroom, you and tsumiki cuddling in bed watching some chick-flick while megumi reads in the armchair.
“finally,” you grin when you see him, pausing the film to take the bag and spoons from his hands. “thank you.”
“what’s going on here?” he asks as you distribute ice cream pints and spoons.
“tsumiki didn’t say “i love you” back to her boyfriend,” megumi quips, his sister throwing a pillow and a glare in his direction.
gojo looks at you, brows furrowed, but you only send him a pleading look.
“well,” he starts, sitting on the edge of the bed. “love is a big emotion, kid. it can take a long time to develop, or sometimes you just know like that,” he says, snapping his fingers.
“how long did it take you two to say it?”
this time when he looks at you, you look away. you hate how much he loves this story.
he can’t help the giddy feeling fluttering in his chest.
“you tell her,” you mutter.
“why? you were the one who said it first. it also led to our first kiss remember?”
“and as i recall, you didn’t say you loved me back right away.”
ah, you never fail to remind him.
“i didn’t get the chance. you just started kissing me and tearing my clothes off. then you immediately dragged me into bed and had your way with me,” he recalls, sighing dreamily as megumi covers his ears.
“i did not kiss you first,” you argue, like you always do. “i don’t kiss on first dates!”
“you did that night.”
“no, i said that i loved you, and then you kissed me.”
he looks at you for a moment. really looks at you. he supposes that first kiss had been over nearly ten years ago, he couldn’t really fault you for forgetting. he didn’t even remember what he’d had for breakfast this morning.
“alright, you win,” he relents, shuffling up the bed to sit against the headboard, pulling you into his chest and kissing your temple.
_____
his first date with you ends up being five years after he meets you.
by then, he’d already known he loved you. hell, some deep, subconscious part of him had known since he was seventeen years old.
so, two years after he’d made a deal with your father, he asked you on a date.
the date goes well. a nice dinner at a nice restaurant in roppongi, followed by a movie in the apartment you’d eventually move into. he’d successfully put his arm around you and leaned in to tell jokes that’d made you laugh.
being with you has always been easy, even back then. there’s no awkwardness on your first date, just the blossoming feeling of something exciting and new growing between you.
(because you were in love with him too.)
“i should head home,” you sigh around 11pm, moving to lift your head from where it’s been laying against his shoulder. “i have lesson plans to prep for next week.”
“don’t go,” he’s quick to insist. “stay. i have two spare rooms. i already have one set up for you.”
you look at him for a moment, like you’re seeing him for the first time. “you do?”
“i wasn’t going to make you go home by yourself in the middle of the night,” he shrugs, averting his gaze and feeling shy all of a sudden.
“i don’t have any clothes—”
“just wear something of mine.”
that was mistake number one, because when you’d come out of the bathroom wearing one of his shirts, he’s still pretty sure he’d blacked out for a second.
mistake number two was staying up late, chatting. this wasn’t uncommon for the two of you, but for some reason that night had felt…intimate. you’d had your legs in his lap, illuminated by the faint glow of the television as you chatted.
mistake number three was helping you walk to the spare room, an arm looped around your sleepy figure as you leaned into him.
he still remembers the way his heart had been thumping loudly in his chest as you gazed up at him, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “goodnight,” you murmured. “i love you.”
he’d stood there, blinking uselessly as he watched realization pass over your face. “satoru…”
he says your name back, suddenly terrified. he remembers how the fear seized his heart, because all at once, you’d become someone he could lose. he has a history of people leaving. whether it was by choice or not, it always hurt. he wants you so badly, but he also knows that losing you would break him.
it must be written all over his face, these unsaid fears and hesitations that were plaguing his mind. that was when you’d stepped forward and gently cupped the sides of his face, pulling him in for a kiss.
______
“sometimes you just know when you love someone,” you tell tsumiki, brushing some stray hairs from her face. “i don’t really know how to explain it.”
“it’s just a feeling,” gojo agrees, still looking at you. “a pretty great one, that leads to even greater things of you give it a chance.”
#gojo x reader#gojo satoru x reader#jjk x reader#jjk fluff#gojo fluff#keeping up with the fushigojos
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is there anyway you can write a cute, fluffy little story for Walker Scobell?
YES OMG I HAVENT BEEN ACTIVE BC I HAVE MIDTERMS
warnings: fluff, reader plays annabeth (i love leah dont come for me), no use of y/n, reader and walker aren’t dating but are obvi crushing
requests are open!!
You and Walker were filming a buzzfeed puppy interview, sitting in the middle of the floor.
Walker sat with his legs crisscrossed, smiling wide at the brown spotted dog that nuzzled his leg. “Is it on? Oh, hi, I’m Walker Scobell, and I play Percy Jackson.”
“Hi,” you introduced yourself, “I play Annabeth Chase,” you picked up the fluffy fured black one that was by your foot, “and your watching buzzfeed!” You put a thumbs up at the camera, earning a laugh from the boy beside you.
“Wait I wanted to say it, I’m literally the main character—“
“But I’m the best character. Walker, you can say it at Vanity Fair.” He rolled his eyes at you, smiling slightly.
“Okay, moving on! um…what’s the question? What was your favorite scene to film…um…oh thats a hard one. I’m gonna say…either the fight with the Ares kids in capture the flag, or falling out of the arch. The harness thing was annoying to put on, but the other parts were fun.” Walker was only half paying attention, preoccupied by the dogs.
“I think the tunnel of love scene, or the one where Annabeth pushes Percy in the water, ‘cause I got to push Walker really hard.” You glanced at him, watching the smile curl onto his face.
“Yeah. We did like 15 takes of that because she kept laughing.” Walker laughed, shaking his head. “Actually, she laughed a lot. We had to retake lots of stuff ‘cause of her, especially the tunnel of love scene. The boat flipped and she wouldn’t stop laughing.” He shifted closer to you, messing with the puppy you’re holding.
“Oh! the next question…what’s your opinion on each other? Um…walker is the best blonde dude ever i think. like he’s literally my kid i swear, and he was honestly the best choice for percy. i think he’s the reason i even got to be annabeth, im really greatful for him. Aryan is super sweet and cool, he’s my best best friend, we do the stupidest things together, and I can’t imagine a world we aren’t honorary siblings.” You scratched behind a puppy’s ear, letting it lick you.
“Well I was just gonna say you’re awesome but…I guess I think we make a great team on-screen as well as off-screen. She’s a true friend. If it weren't for her, I don't know what I'd do, y'know? She’s like my very own real life Annabeth." He glanced up at you subtly, wanting to gauge your reaction, smiling in victory when he noticed the red tint to your cheeks.
“The…the next one says, how do you feel about fan support? is it overwhelming? Well, my answer is yes, sometimes. Especially with people who are really like into the book to the point where they hated the casting over looks.” You had started to speak a lot quieter as Walker drifted closer, trying to get the puppy off your lap.
“I don’t think much of it.” Walker shurgs. “Only really the edits that I see anyway, those are fun.” He smiles encouragingly at you , finally meeting your eyes.
“…Yeah. The edits.” You smile at him, referring to the ship edits. You’d talked about it in multiple interviews, and you had a favorites folder for them on Tiktok. You raised an eyebrow at Walker, who continued to move closer until his head was on your lap, giggling softly and starting pet his hair like you did the puppys fur.
“Okay, last question…have there been any memorable moments on set? Um…probably when i first met her. I just got the feeling she was gonna be Annabeth, she gave me this ‘what is he doing?’ Look, and it just clicked.” He stayed with his head on your lap, turning so his head is on your stomach when puppies come and attack him with licks.
“They think you’re one of them!” You push him off a little so the puppies can get to him. “And my answer…um…I think when Walker gave me the piece of banana that was in my hair in the show. He kinda just tied it in and left my set trailer, and it stuck. So if you guys wondered what the weird blue fabric in Annabeth’s hair was, it was not in fact a design choice, it was a Percy choice.” You turn so the camera can see the small braid in your hair with the bandanna piece at the end.
“And Percy’s got one too, if you look hard enough.” He lifts one of his feet, showing the vans he wore during filming, and the flimsy piece of bandanna tied through his top shoe hole. You shake your head, laughing at his insistence in staying with his head in your lap.
While you layed on his bed, you scrolled through your fyp, stopping when you see the familiar scene of you two in the buzzfeed room, with his head in your lap. Nodding your head to the song in the edit as you scrolled through the comments.
“IRL percabeth?” He questioned from beside you. You looked at him, not realizing he had started paying attention to you, jumping to get your phone from him.
“No, I’m commenting! And reposting!” He laughed, rolling away from you. You got off the bed behind him, giving up taking the phone and blinking when he simply commented ‘real’.
“Well, so much for ‘it’ll blow over’.” You rolled your eyes, knowing the dating allegations will only get worse after this. Walker smiled triumphantly, waiting for the responses to come in.
taglist: @persassyxo @diorlorenzo @ilovewalkerscobell @paytonthereader @platypusbearrr @kissatelier @riptidelor
#percy jackson#annabeth chase#x reader#walker scobell#grover underwood#percy jackson x reader#walker scobell x reader
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Tom Blyth x Actress!Reader
no y/n and i try to avoid descriptors but do use she/her. you star in house of the dragon and your character is aemond targaryen’s girlfriend (let me live ok i know we could change him! he told me!!) aaaand also tbosas as sejanus girlfriend (get it bc rachel and josh and now you and tom). your character in tbosas is nova may winter.
your social media ~
just a fun little social media series, will do this in between editing my coriolanus snow x reader series. first part below the cut, sometime early 2023.
liked by enews and others…
tmz_tv trouble in paradise? rachelzegler and tomblyth spotted looking a little cozy last night! wonder how yourname and joshandresrivera feel!!!
yourname heartbroken!
↳ joshandresrivera shocked!
↳ yourname betrayed!
↳ joshandresrivera bamboozled!
↳ yourname flabbergasted!
↳ joshandresrivera devastated!
↳ yourname yeah that we weren’t invited hadbdjsndj
↳ tomblyth i hate you both 😭
↳ rachelzegler you guys literally had reshoots for tbosas though????
↳ tomblyth and we offered to reschedule for when all 4 of us could go?
↳ yourname fuck we’ve been exposed
↳ joshandresrivera gotta blast!!!
username wait are they really dating?!
↳ username no. rachelzegler is dating joshandresrivera and tomblyth is dating yourname.
↳ username waaaait i just read tbosas. obviously coryo and lucy gray, but also yourname character is dating joshandresrivera character 😂 so everyone had to kiss each others significant other 😂😂😭
↳ username oh to be yourname and rachelzegler
🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍 30 minutes later 🐍🐍🐍🐍🐍
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⚪️⚫️⚪️⚪️
⚪️⚪️⚫️⚪️
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liked by taylorswift and others…
yourname here to serve your #snowbaird needs! first 3 📸 are the love of my life and tomblyth is in the shots too.
rachelzegler hahaha i love you
↳ yourname marry me when???
tchalamet where was the post for paul and luna when dune came out? #fakefriend #betrayed
↳ yourname timothée??? i literally made a whole youtube video talking about my experience with dune? and i sung your praises for like 10 minutes???
↳ tchalamet not the full first name 😳
joshandresrivera and what about the ship for our characters 🤬
↳ yourname istg you’ll get an entire post dedicated to u once the film is actually out.
↳ joshandresrivera carry on 🤭
ewanmitchell aemond and juliette didn’t get a post either 🤨
↳ yourname aemond killed my baby lucerys, he doesn’t get shit 😞
↳ ewanmitchell you did a whole post when osferth died????
↳ yourname my sweet baby osferth did not deserve to die either 😔
username damn yourname your onscreen boyfriends are low key needy af 🫣
↳ yourname i know right 😩
tmz_tv 👀
↳ yourname this was a joke. i’m laughing at you, not with you.
yourname has blocked tmz_tv
tomblyth caption got me like 😧… and what’s the last photo my love?
↳ yourname my lockscreen is what it is.
↳ username “my love”
↳ username she said my lockscreen hahdudsbdifesz one of us one of us
hunterschafer you’re my spirit animal
↳ yourname hunter is the ACTUAL loml you guys
↳ tomblyth “heart been broke so many times” - rod wave 😧
username i read the book. coriolanus has to choke nova may. tomblyth did u develop a choking kink 🤭😏😏😏
↳ yourname hahahaha username i love you so much for this
↳ username someone spoil it for me why does he choke her
↳ username nova may figures out that coriolanus is the one who betrayed sejanus right when he’s executed and she goes to confront him later. this is when he and lucy gray first get to the cabin. she has a gun but he manages to throw it to the other side of the room. and at least in the book he slams her against a wall and tries to kill her by choking her.
↳ username istg they better put this scene in the movie.
↳ username but does he kill her?
↳ yourname watch and seeeee!
↳ rachelzegler so proud of my girl yourname! we can’t talk about it too much because #spoilers but you guys she’s incredible and it was so cool to watch her and tomblyth film that scene
username i bet tomblyth felt so bad having to be mean to yourname
↳ yourname all jokes aside, tomblyth aka the actual number 1 love of my life, he did feel so bad 😭 i love seeing him turn into coriolanus because it’s obviously so different from who he actually is as a person. but after each take he’d immediately ask if i was okay 🥺🥹
↳ username god i’m so single
if you’d like to be tagged in future tom blyth x actress!reader let me know!
#tbosas#the ballad of songbirds and snakes#tom blyth#rachel seller#josh andres rivera#coriolanus snow#lucy gray baird#sejanus plinth#tom blyth x reader#tom blyth x you#tom blyth x fem!reader#tom blyth x f!reader#tom blyth x actress!reader#tom blyth fluff#tom blyth fanfiction#coriolanus snow x f!reader#coriolanus snow x fem!reader#coriolanus snow x reader#ewan mitchell#house of the dragon#hotg#the last kingdom
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midnights * mv1
since your breakup, max hadn’t thought of you. until he stumbled home by himself in the middle of the night.
pairings: max verstappen x fem!reader
warnings: honestly just heartbreak all around
notes: i started writing this when i found out my ex-boyfriend was dating someone new, and now here i am 💀 and i fear i am on my phone once more; i will credit the gif in the morning when i get to school
(next)
the lock clicks as max turns his key, the sound echoing in the eerily empty hallway behind him. he turns the knob and was greeted by his empty apartment.
max hasn’t been home in almost 2 weeks. the races and his media commitments, topped by other projects just made it so rare to find the time to come home. but that’s not the only reason he’s avoiding the confinements of these four walls.
he flips the switch in the entryway, slipping his shoes off. immediately, he notices the vast difference in the way his apartment looks — how strangely lifeless it feels.
he can’t exactly pinpoint what it is and it takes him a second to realise.
you’d emptied his apartment of your belongings.
the breakup happened in the 2 weeks he was away from home. it actually took place a night before his race. he’d grown tired of it too, the neverending misunderstandings and the fights.
so he let you walk away; you hopped on a flight back home.
he hasn’t exactly had the time to think about you since then. you’d only texted him once: two days ago to tell him that victoria will be the one with the cats until he comes back. he’d only replied with a simple ‘okay, thank you’.
he didn’t really know what to say either. he stared at your text message for 5 minutes before daniel called him over to start filming a promotional shoot. that was all he could come up with.
max walks further into the apartment you’d once shared. his eyes are darting all over the place, taking mental notes of spots that look different from the way he had left it.
the framed picture of you with the cats is gone, your magazines on the coffee table, the bowl of your collection of scrunchies as a ‘conversation-starter’ centrepiece — it’s all gone.
his apartment didn’t even feel like home. all of the things that made it feel like home just isn’t in here anymore.
max turns his body, taking a glance at the entryway. even your house slippers aren’t where they usually are. it’s as if you were never even here.
he takes a walk further in, glancing at the sofa. it seems so lifeless now without the teddy bear you brought in, and the blanket that you insisted was only for the living room.
he admits he misses the teddy bear. though, he was opposed to the idea at first, claiming that it’s taking up precious space that you could both be maximising together. it proved a lot more useful when he found himself hugging it when he’s on the sofa watching a show with you.
the remotes for all the appliances are no longer scattered over the furniture mysteriously. they are all lined up neatly on the edge of the coffee table, grouped accordingly. you hated arranging the console remotes for the simple fact that you were too lazy to reach forward an inch to start playing.
and it finally hits him, that in the moment of pride, and simply protecting his peace at the moment, he has now lost you.
for good, it seems.
max drops himself on the couch. he’s still looking around, desperately wishing that this was some cruel dream he’s in. he will wake up with you by his side, your hair in his face with his arm draped lazily around your body. he will wake up and you are still his, and he is yours.
he can only sigh. audbily, at the predicament he has found himself in. at the time, it didn’t occur to him to fight for you; to ask you to stay. he didn’t have it in him to ask you to find reason within yourself to change your mind.
then he hears a soft meow, followed by sounds of pitter patter against the floor of the apartment. before he knew it, the couch dips ever so slightly and then there’s jimmy climbing onto his lap to greet him.
then he hears actual footsteps, slippers dragging against the floor. he turns his head slightly, his one hand patting the feline’s head, and meets victoria’s eyes.
“max?”
“victoria.”
a set of lights by the windows are turned on, granting him a look at his younger sister. she’s standing by the door of the guest bedroom with a jacket hanging loosely around her shoulders.
she has a frown on her face, and a look that screamed she didn’t know what to say to him.
and then his heart breaks. instead of walking through those apartment doors hand in hand with you, giggling from the high you’d get from the bar in his private jet, he is sitting her all by himself. met by his younger sister, who would be gone by morning to go back to her family.
max can only smile sadly at her. he shrugs. “we broke up.”
“i know,” she answers softly, nodding understandingly. she approaches him cautiously with her arms slightly held up. “i’m sorry.”
“me too.”
max scrambles from his position and gladly takes in the hug that she’s offered him. he suddenly feels so small, his heart aching in his chest and his throat closing up. he feels the tears in his eyes as he hugs his younger sister slightly tighter.
she rubs her back up and down, hugging him even tighter when she feels his chest stagger slightly. now he’s sniffling and hands are moving up to his face to wipe the tears falling from his eyes.
“give it time,” victoria whispers, swaying slightly in an attempt to comfort the driver. “i promise everything will fall back into place. slowly, but surely.”
max sighs deeply. “i don’t know why i didn’t stop her from walking away.”
she pulls away from the hug, then tugs his hands towards the couch when he chases her embrace. she leans back, pulling max in for a tighter — and slightly more comfortable — hug.
“i know it sucks now,” she rests her cheek on the top of his head, squeezing his shoulder empathetically. “but let things sort itself out. it will be okay.”
there, in his sister’s arms, he cried for the first time since your breakup. he had been so busy that he hadn’t been able to process the whole situation at all.
the way you had shot daggers at him through your eyes that night, how he snapped at you when he noticed and how the fight had erupted from something barely of significance.
it was just over a cup of coffee — how you had made it with 2 sugars instead of 3.
from there, the topics of contention had evolved into something bigger. in the haze of both of your anger, past arguments were brought up and new ones were created just in that night.
then both of you grew tired. you ended up next to him on the couch of his driver’s room in silence. and you said, “i can’t do this anymore, max.”
and he had said to you, “i’m tired.”
but what he should’ve said was: “i’m sure we can find a way through this.”
but that’s not what he said to you. he stayed silent when you brought it up: “i think we need to break up.”
frankly, he didn’t really know what to say. at first, he was dumbfounded at what you said. never did he think, that when you first start dating, that a breakup would ever present itself.
max told himself, about 4 months into the relationship that there’s absolutely no way he’d end up with anybody else except you.
now, it seems he’s going to have to go through all of this by himself. start the whole thing all over again, unless something changes.
#oh#i like it!#max verstappen#max verstappen x reader#max verstappen x you#max verstappen fic#max verstappen fanfic#f1 fic#f1 x you#f1 x reader#formula 1 fanfic#disneyprincemuke#disneyprincemuke imagine#disneyprincemuke f1
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I DON'T WANNA TALK - CHARLES LECLERC
SUMMARY: charles is mad after the bad race, what can go wrong after screaming at his girlfriend?
PAIRING: charles leclerc x fem!reader
GENRE: angst with happy (???) ending
WORD COUNT: 0.9k
WARNINGS: screaming, crying, charles is mad, traumatizing childhood and parent, ENGLISH ISN'T NY FIRST LANGUAGE
AUTHOR'S NOTE: hiya, was inactive for a (longer) moment, school still sucks, inspiration is taking offence at me and history at school does kill me right now fr (we started the great war recently and watched im westen nichts neues - i hate this kind of films). anyway this was based in this request.
Charles was angry. No, he was furious.
Race didn't go well. He had to retire after Perez touched him and he ended up in the wall.
Race was good, for two laps he was even leading but then the Mexican showed up and Charles’ good race said “bye bye”.
“Charles,” his girlfriend said after they were finally in their hotel room.
He wasn't in the mood for talking. He didn't want her pity. He wanted to take a shower (another one) and scream in his pillow.
The girl was looking at him, worried. This wasn't the state she has seen him for many times. It was the first time actually.
“I don't wanna talk” he answered only and grabbed some clothes of his and entered the bathroom.
“If you’d like to-” she started but he turned around to face her with anger written on his face, panting.
“Shut up!” Charles yelled at her and entered the bathroom. She was left speechless. There were tears forming in her eyes that started falling down when she heard the slam of the door.
Oh, she really didn't want it to come back.
Life was good, great even, then those memories came to her mind, causing another session of crying.
The girl had no idea what to do.
Her eyesight wasn't so clear as she was looking for the tissues, convinced that her make up was smeared as hell.
When she finally found some in her bag, she next jumped on the bed and covered herself with the blanket.
Her heart was hurt, it didn't crack in shatters but still it hurt as hell.
She felt like that seven year old girl, who was standing in front of her father, crying because he yelled at her.
She was screamed at because of trying to make her dad come to terms with her beloved mother.
It was too much for little Y/N. It hunted her for years.
Especially now, when her and Charles were trying everything to have a baby. She was frightened she became the same as her father and her child would have to experience the same case as she had.
And now it was too much for adult Y/N.
She knew she should meet her therapist as soon as she could but she couldn't since she was travelling with her boyfriend around Asia for the next two weeks and her therapist wasn't doing online appointments.
And there she was, still lying on her side of the king-size bed covered with a blanket and still crying.
Charles wasn't aware of his girlfriend's reaction to his behaviour until he left the bathroom, all showered and with a clear mind, and heard sobs in the room.
He sighed only and went to the bed and took a seat beside the girl. He carefully took off the blanket of her face and saw her with smeared make up, red eyes and runny nose.
She didn't want to talk with him and put her head in the pillow, so he couldn't look at her.
“I'm sorry-” he started but her hushed by the pillow voice interrupted him with:
“I don't wanna talk.”
So Charles didn't talk more but kissed her head quickly and left to the living room, to give her space he knew she needed.
The next hour went, well, silent.
Y/N wasn't sobbing anymore, just blowing off her nose and coughing from time to time. Charles at the other hand was thinking about his new song and was trying to write any notes but he lacked at stave paper and at any keyboard or piano.
The girl finally got out of the bed and entered the bathroom. She grabbed some cotton pads and put micellar water on it and began to remove her make up.
It was a heavenly feeling for her, since her eyelids were sticking to each other because of the mascara.
Next she grabbed some cleaning foam and removed the rest of the cosmetics and put on the cream.
The girl left the bathroom and went to Charles who was sitting on the couch with some folded paper around.
He heard her steps and turned around to see her face.
“Ready to talk?” he asked only and she nodded, then sat beside him. “I'm sorry, truly” he said, looking into her eyes, that he loved so much. Now they were puffed and red from the crying.
“I know” she answered and hugged him like a koala. Charles wrapped his arms around her body, without saying any words.
“What happened?” the man asked, rubbing her back with his palm. “Tell me, I'm not leaving this without any explanation,” he added in a calm tone.
The girl was silent for a few moments. But then she told him only:
“Father was screaming at me for trying to help.”
Charles was speechless. He knew his girlfriend’s relationship with her father wasn't good, but he didn't know it was that bad. He never asked since her mother told him not to for the girl's mental state.
“I'm sorry, dove. I'm so sorry” he whispered to her ear, trying to comfort her the best he could.
“I don't want to be like him” she mumbled in the crock of his neck and he sighed.
“You are not like him,” he assured her. “You will never be like him,” he added and kissed her temple. “You are a better person than him, dove.”
“I love you” she mumbled.
“I love you too” she whispered back and they remained silent for the rest of the night, cuddled in each other’s arms.
masterlist
#discopaddock#formula 1#formula 1 x reader#formula 1 x you#formula 1 x y/n#formula 1 fanfic#formula 1 oneshot#charles leclerc angst#charles leclerc x you#charles leclerc fluff#charles leclerc x reader#charles leclerc fanfic#charles leclerc#charles lecrelc#charles leclerc x y/n#charles leclerc x female reader#charles leclerc one shot
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Ok but we NEED a prequel public sex with Oscar, maybe the first time Logan watched/joined in?
A/N I was in the middle of writing a Carlos fic that will be coming soon but I wanted to give you guys some Oscar content again so here you go
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You always loved coming in with Oscar on Prema shoot days, a permanent smile on your face watching him interact with his teammates; Fred and Logan. The two had welcomed you with open arms the first time Oscar introduced you, with you and Logan sparking a quick friendship.
There was something inherently sweet about the American, always taking time to ask how you were doing and get to know you. Oscar loved seeing your friendship blossom, happy that there was someone to keep you company when he was busy in front of the camera.
Today you sat behind the camera, watching as the threesome film a blindfolded eating challenge for the Prema YouTube channel. The striking red of the team practically burned your eyes but the boys looked so cute in their team kit, especially Oscar. You had to stifle a laugh each time Oscar got frustrated when the boys weren't guessing the items correctly, his face an absolute picture.
Part of you loved coming here to see the contrast between the Oscar everyone else knows and the Oscar that's reserved for you. This version of your boyfriend was lovable and hilarious, awkward in an endearing way. Whilst that is the version of Oscar that drew you in, you couldn't deny that the other side of Oscar is the one that got you hooked. The Oscar you knew now, the one who practically folded you in half whilst he pounded into you at night, was your dirty little secret.
Even now, when he glanced over at you, innocent smile on his lips, you could see the naughty glint in his eyes as they traveled over your body. You'd worn a skirt today, planning on convincing Oscar to sneak away for a quickie somewhere, but in this moment you were regretting it. Oscar's thirsty look had your thighs clenching together, a movement he couldn't miss. He was thankful his two friends were blindfolded, unable to see the way he was practically drooling over you.
Oscar was snapped back into reality by Logan's guess at the food stuff, bursting out laughing at how wrong he was.
When filming had wrapped up, you found yourself sat opposite Logan in the Prema canteen. "I don't know what happened to your taste buds Logan but you were awful at that challenge." You tell him, giggling when he glares daggers at you.
"I was not," the American replies, "They just gave us really hard foods. Honestly, give me a good burger and I'd be able to explain it perfectly, you just watch." Logan defends, barely able to make it through his claims with a straight face.
Oscar joins the pair of you, slipping a drink in front of you as his now free hand glides over your exposed thigh. Your legs squeeze together, the hitch in your breath masked as you take a sip of your drink. “What are you guys talking about?” Oscar asks.
“Y/N thinks there’s something wrong with my mouth.” Logan laughs as you fight to keep your legs open under the table. Oscar smirks, “Maybe we should ask that girl from the other day.”
Your eyes widen at his statement, gently hitting him on the arm as Logan blushes. “Oscar man, no need to expose me like that in front of a lady.” He stammers, avoiding eye contact. Oscar chuckles, “Trust me, Y/N doesn’t mind, the two of us heard everything anyway.” You can’t help but giggle as Logan fights back a smile.
“I hate you guys.” He laughs, before pulling out his phone and leaving the two of you to your own private conversation. Oscar’s rough hand is a welcome addition to your thigh, sending goosebumps over your skin with each stroke of his thumb.
He leans in to you, pressing a kiss to your forehead before dropping his mouth to your ear. “Did you wear a skirt on purpose today sweetheart? Did you have a dirty little plan in mind this morning?” He questions, the teasing tone to his voice sending a shiver down your spine.
You shake your head, glancing over at Logan and hoping he can’t see the blush rising to your cheeks. Oscar hums in your ear, clearly disagreeing with you.
“Now I don’t think that’s true, I think you wanted me to be able to touch you whenever I want today. To slip my fingers under that little skirt and play with your pussy, I bet you’re wet already aren’t you?” He whispers. You bite your lip in response to conceal a whimper, his thumb gliding against the fabric of your dampening underwear.
Your toes curl in your shoes at the sensation, hand squeezing into a fist around your phone as Oscar slips your underwear to the side. To anyone watching it looks as though Oscar is resting his head on your shoulder, interested in whatever’s on your screen.
In reality he’s swiping his thick fingers through the growing wetness pooling between your legs. His slick fingers circle your clit and your stomach clenches as you barely conceal a moan. Logan glances up briefly at the small sound but furrows his eyebrows in confusion when it seemed you and Oscar hadn’t noticed. He shakes his head before returning to scrolling through Instagram.
Oscar smirks as he watches his friend return to his activities, one of his digits now slipping inside your pussy ever so slowly. “I bet you’d just love it if he noticed, wouldn’t you sweetheart?” Oscar whispers, lips grazing your ear before pressing a kiss to your cheek in disguise. “Absolutely dripping for me, or are you soaked for him? Huh? Do you want Logan to know what a dirty little slut you are?” He continues.
You barely contain your whine, teeth digging into your lip so hard you're certain you'll break the skin soon. Oscar’s finger slides in and out of your pussy, your cheeks heating up as the very faint sound of your juices reaches your ears. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see the smirk spreading across Oscar’s face, proud of himself for getting his girlfriend in this state.
He curls his fingers, applying to pressure to that one spot that makes your eyes roll. In an attempt to not react that, your body forces a new reaction, a knee jerk reaction that causes your leg to slam into Logan's own leg underneath the table. His head shoots up at the pain, eyebrows scrunched, "What the hell was that for Y/N?" He practically hisses.
"I'm sorry," You stutter out, Oscar's fingers still not stopping their motions. "I, uh, I didn't mean-" Before you can finish your sentence, a brush of Oscar's hand against your clit sends you spiraling over the edge. Your orgasm washes over you, your eyes screwing shut as you slam your hand over your mouth. Oscar continues to watch you, ignoring Logan's wide eyed stare.
You keep your stare to the ground, unable to look at Logan across the table. Oscar's other hand lifts your chin up to face him, "It's okay baby, you did great, Logan won't judge you. I promise." He whispers gently, pressing a soft kiss to your cheek. Your eyes slowly travel over to meet Logan's, a clouded look of lust taking over his pupils. "
"Did what I think just happened, just happen?" He murmurs, swallowing thickly as he awaits the answer. You nod shyly, a prickly heat coating your cheeks as you blush. Logan's tongue peeks out to lick his lips, now hyper aware of just how dry his mouth is.
"Can I see more?" He asks, turning to look at Oscar. The Australian sits there smugly, looking at you to see if you have any qualms. When he sees nothing but excitement in your eyes, he returns his gaze to Logan.
"Meet us in our hotel room tonight, I'll text you the room number." Oscar tells him, before standing from the table and extending an arm to allow you to join him. The pair of you walk away, not sparing a glance back at Logan, who remains seated at the table under he truly grasps what he just witnessed.
"Holy shit." He mutters to himself, squeezing himself in his trousers before rushing off to his room to resolve his new problem.
#f1 smut#formula one smut#f1 fanfic#f1 x female reader#formula one fanfiction#formula one imagine#smut prompts#smut requests#smut writing#oscar piastri x you#oscar piastri imagine#oscar piastri#oscar piastri smut#oscar piastri x reader#op81 imagine#op81 x reader#op81 smut#op81#logan sargeant x reader#logan sargeant#loscar#ls2#ls2 x reader#logan sargeant smut#logan sargeant x reader smut#ls2 smut
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