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serverusslaype · 7 months

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Shameless, pt. 11

Severus Snape x professor!reader fic

Shameless Masterpost

guys im running out of gifs to use ffs

despite that, HELLO!! i am more than 100% certain that you adorable feral little cretins are going to love this chapter holy fk. like i'm actually so excited to see your reactions/comments LOLL

i apologise for the long, long wait, however i wanted to perfect this part, it was really important that i did, otherwise it would be a waste, and kind of cringe. i won't keep you any longer <3

thank you for reading, i hope you enjoy this!! and again, thank you soooo much for all your replies and reblogs and likes they just make me smile all the time, i really cannot believe that people like this, i'm still flabbergasted.

warnings: 18+ further down, minors DNI after the big red *'s. i also put a sign to say where it ends if you're not comfortable reading such things!

if i was any good at coding i'd cover it up, you know how people do on discord, like that spoiler thing. but alas, i am but a technophobe.

(this song is very important during that certain scene so if you will, please listen to it as you read <;3)

onwards and upwards...

Severus stood beside Dumbledore, his hands hanging at his sides, fingers fidgeting thoughtfully at the seams of his his black slacks. Before he was able to speak a reply to the Headmaster, a voice he had hoped he'd never hear again pierced the blanketed silence in the Great Hall. For a moment, both his heart and stomach dropped as he turned his head toward the irritating voice, jaw clenching almost immediately.

"Y/N!" None other than Benjamin Bluewater had called out, his ridiculously well-groomed hair bouncing as he jogged towards you. Severus felt a burning blaze of rage prickle his skin as his eyes observed how Bluewater embraced your rigid form, clearly in shock at his sudden appearance. What the hell was he doing here?

"Ben-" Severus heard you gasp as Bluewater pulled away from you, his hands flying up to cradle your cheeks intimately. Something Severus had done less than an hour ago. The jealousy that was raging inside of Snape was lethal, and he was desperately fighting the urge to rip you from Bluewater's slimy grasp and tuck you within the safe haven of his arms.

Your fearful eyes met Snape's icy ones, setting a kaleidoscope of butterflies free in his stomach. He could tell you were quietly begging him for help, however, he refused to get involved. The last thing he wanted to do was seem suspicious and perhaps trigger an unnecessary reaction from Bluewater. Snape remembered how volatile the boy could be, he served enough detentions with him. In fact, that was one thing that Severus was worried about. He wasn't sure if you knew about his bad temper.

"Are you alright? I came at once when I heard about Black getting into Hogwarts." Bluewater said, his overly-concerned voice dripping with worry. Something didn't sit right with Severus as he watched the two of you. Why didn't Bluewater visit when you had been attacked by a dementor? How does that not warrant a visit but this does? A deep, frustrated sigh left Snape's nose as Ben's thumbs brushed against the apples of your cheeks. Your hands reluctantly rose to sit atop of his forearms, silently soothing his worries.

"Wha-what are you... how...?" You stuttered, cheeks ablaze. You had to take a moment to compose yourself, and it didn't help that Severus's fiery eyes were burning holes into you. Inhaling slowly, you spoke again. "What are you doing here? How did you even get in?"

"Well, it helps when you work at the Ministry of Magic," Bluewater shrugged, a proud, smug smirk teasing his lips. His hands fell from your cheeks and settled on your waist, squeezing you a tad. You tensed up again as you glanced at Severus, your heart going a million miles an hour. Bluewater frowned as he followed your eyes, a flash of surprise crossing his features as he finally noticed the two of you weren't alone. "Erm... Headmaster, Professor... Snape." He greeted awkwardly, offering a nod. Snape wasn't keen on acknowledging him, however, Dumbledore kept it polite, smiling at the boy.

"A lovely surprise, Mr Bluewater." Dumbledore said. It had sounded sarcastic, but that was unintentional.

Severus stared at Bluewater with cold eyes, his gaze slowly falling to where his hands sat comfortably on your waist, taunting him. His mouth twitched bitterly. "How you've grown, Mr Bluewater," Snape commented slyly, his sharp eyes flicking back up to meet Bluewater's. "It feels like only yesterday you were causing chaos here at Hogwarts. More specifically in my classroom." He drawled, eyes narrowing in contempt.

An incredulous huff slipped from Bluewater's nose and a sarcastic grin broke out on his face; his grip on your waist tightening. The jealous fire in Severus exploded. Clearly, there was unresolved conflict between these two.

"I see you've remained the same, Snape." He quipped sharply, tongue like a sword. Severus turned his back to you and Bluewater, his shoulders stiffening as he muttered something to Dumbledore.

There was an awkward silence that fell upon the four of you.

You turned to Ben, keeping your voice low. "Look, I think it's best if you leave." You muttered, an uncomfortable expression slipping onto your face. You nibbled on your bottom lip.

"I'm not leaving until I know where Black is, I need to keep you safe." Ben laughed dryly, his eyes narrowing at you in disbelief. Oh no, no-no-no. He had to leave, there was no way he could stay.

"I'm perfectly safe here," you attempted to reassure him, "I'm surrounded by some of the most talented witches and wizards to ever exist, Ben." An incredulous chuckle fell from your lips as you spoke, a little surprised that he deemed Hogwarts unsafe. How could it be unsafe when Dumbledore was here? Despite that, you couldn't risk him noticing the tension between you and Snape, it wouldn't look good on either of you.

He looked at you with a stiff expression, his gaze flicking to where Snape and Dumbledore stood, eyes hardening as he stared. You glanced away awkwardly.

"I'll stay here until I deem it so, Y/N." Ben said rather sternly, making your brows shoot up in shock. Since when was he like this? This was not the Ben you knew.

"Sorry?" You choked.

"The Ministry gets the final say, irregardless of what you or Hogwarts thinks." Ben tilted his head at you as he stared down at you. "I'm staying." His serious tone of voice made you back down and nod, your lips pursed. There was nothing you could say or do to change his mind.

Shit.

Shit, indeed.

Two knocks sounded at Snape's door, and he audibly sighed, a little vexed that someone had chosen to come and bother him when he'd just settled down - his raging jealousy had finally subdided after two hours of brooding in his office.

"Come in." Snape grunted from his desk, piles of parchment and books surrounding him messily. Usually he was neat, organised - but tonight was rather exasperating. He just about managed to watch another man with his hands all over you.

"Severus," Minerva McGonagall's voice made Snape's head snap up, a startled look adopting his features. He definitely was not expecting the Head of Gryffindor House to be knocking at his door. "I'm sorry to impede, however, I wanted to chat with you. Regarding Y/N." She sighed, her wrinkled lips pouting. His body suddenly felt heavier.

"What about Professor L/N?" Severus asked curtly, looking back down at the pile of assignments in front of him like he had no interest in the subject.

"I wasn't born yesterday, Severus," Minerva said, a stern look taking hold of her face. Snape's jaw ticked, his fingers stiffening in irritation. He sighed and glanced back up at the older witch, waiting for her to continue her lecture. "You need to be careful. She's just a girl." She said softly and stepped forwards a tad, linking her fingers together in front. Why was he getting lectured when he's been the one trying to push you away? Well, he was. Now, all he wanted to do was pull you close to him.

"This is no concern of yours, Minerva." Severus's brows furrowed harshly, his voice clipped and cold. Minerva's eyes narrowed; his tone rubbing her the wrong way.

"It concerns me when it starts to affect my colleagues." Minerva retorted, her patience wearing thin. She knew this was going to be a hard conversation, especially with someone like Severus. "I just want you to consider things before you cross that line, Severus. This isn't... wise."

It isn't wise? Well, who would've thought that? Not me, apparently, Severus growled in his mind, sighing heavily through his nostrils as he stared at Minerva.

"You think I don't know that?" Severus groaned, shutting his eyes as he reached up to massage his temples. He felt a headache coming on; all this stress wasn't good for him.

There was several seconds of quiet before Minerva spoke again, voice soft. "Do you care for her?"

He kept silent once again.

Minerva felt for Severus, she knew what it was like to care for someone and to have to push them away. In fact, it felt horribly and hauntingly familiar. This was like a walk down memory lane for her. Her head tilted slightly, her eyes softening as she stared at the Potions Master who had his eyes glued to his desk, palms splayed out atop of it as he intensely read through an essay. "I do not want your pity, Minerva," Severus hissed, his head snapping up, a face full of anger, "I have walked down this road before, and I know how it ends. So please, save your sorry for someone else."

Minerva was so used to Snape's flick-of-a-switch emotions that she hardly flinched at his sudden outburst. "Alright." A soft sigh left her as she glanced away from him, her fingers flexing. There was nothing left to say, she knew that Severus knew the risks with you. And you knew the risks with him. For now, she could only let things play out, she wasn't going to play God. If the two of you wanted to do it, who was she to stop it?

"I have a lot of work to complete." Severus grunted, his shoulders hunching up as he sat closer to his desk, burying his nose further into the parchment. Minerva exhaled softly through her nostrils and her lips pouted together again. She blinked, turning around to leave.

As her fingers grasped the rickety door handle, she looked over her shoulder at Snape. "Should you and Y/N choose to take such a risk, Severus," she began, earning another exhausted sigh from him, "don't break her heart. She doesn't deserve to go through that pain. Not at such a young age."

Severus's eyes faltered a tad as he glazed over the messy handwriting laced upon the parchment sat in front of him, as if it were goading him. His breath hitched slightly at her words. Minerva had a point. A very, irritatingly valid point. Severus cared for you - a lot. However, now he found himself questioning whether it was enough - whether he was enough for you. He couldn't pour his whole self into a relationship with you if it wasn't that - his whole self. Were you better off with Bluewater? He could probably treat you better than Severus ever could. Bluewater was young, handsome, somewhat smart... he also had a very good job at the Ministry... Severus was but a teacher, and he was old. Why would you ever settle for someone like him when a boy like Bluewater existed?

The click of his door told him that Minerva had left. Severus buried his face in his hands, his heart twisting and knotting itself as it yearned for you.

Rolling over in your bed, your unwearied eyes skimmed your darkened room, landing on the clock that was hung on the wall. Almost eleven o'clock at night. Ben stirred beside you, the bed creaking and groaning as he shuffled to right, away from you, burying his cheek in the pillow. You glanced at him and sighed, your mind wandering to the thought of Severus. You wondered what he was doing right now. Was he awake or asleep? No, he was definitely awake, that man never slept.

Severus.

Gods, you adored that man. You weren't exactly sure what it was that drew you to him, but perhaps it was just his aura; it was so dark, mysterious. The way the two of you bantered so easily, the conversation flowed like a river and it felt natural, whereas, with Ben... it was... well, it just felt artificial - forced, almost. It wasn't a secret that the chemistry and tension between you and Severus was incredibly palpable - even Minerva had noticed, and suddenly that made you panic - what if Ben notices? Other teachers? The students had even noticed last year when Severus had helped you up the steps when duelling Lockhart. He won't notice, will he? No, he won't be here long enough to.

Hopefully.

You rolled over in your bed again and noticed that Ben had turned back towards you, so the two of you were face to face now. You tucked your hands up and underneath your chin, allowing yourself to stare at his features in the dark. As you laid there, staring, breathing soft and slow, your heart skipped a beat as he shifted slightly; the shadow that was cast against his face suddenly transforming him intosomeone else. Suddenly, he'd grown long, obisidian black hair that framed his face perfectly, his basic nose had become hooked and prominent, his cheekbones turned more defined.

You sucked in a sharp, yet soft breath - careful to keep quiet so you didn't wake Ben - your skin prickling with goosebumps. Was this how hung up you were on Severus? So much so that if you stared too long at someone, they'd turn into him?

Your hand slowly rose to drag itself against your face. Glancing at the clock again, you knew you weren't falling asleep any time soon. You'd been laid there for at least two or so hours, tossing and turning, begging for your brain to shut off so you could perhaps get some sort of shut-eye. So, you chose to get out of bed. Flipping open the duvet, the biting cold of your room enveloped you; a chill shooting down your figure. You shivered slightly as you sat up and twisted yourself on your bum so your legs hung down over the side of the bed. It creaked slightly as you leant forwards to put your slippers on, prompting you to quickly glance behind you to check if it woke Ben - thankfully, it didn't. With a quick exhale of relief, you spun stepped out of bed and padded quietly over to your sofa where your favourite comfy, deep green cardigan was resting over the arm of it.

You picked it up and slipped it on, wrapping the warm, soft and cosy garment around yourself. Headed towards your door, you threw once last look at Ben and clicked open your door, shutting it calmly, making your way down to the one place you only wanted to go at this time of night.

The mossy, damp smell of the dungeons invaded your nostrils angrily, almost making you cough. You forgot how bad the smell could get down here during the autumn and winter months. The cool chill seeped through your wool cardigan, making you pull it tighter against your frame, hurriedly trying to keep every bit of warmth around you before it escaped.

As you neared that certain door, you lingered by it, raising your knuckles hesitantly.

With a stern sigh, you knocked, and awaited his usual grunt of acknowledgement.

"Come in." Came an annoyed tone from the inside just as you expected. You bit the inside of your cheek as you creaked open the door and slipped inside.

"Erm, hi," You squeaked out, closing the door shut behind you and pressing your back against it, staring awkwardly at Severus, who was still sat behind his desk, head down. "What are you doing up so late?" The sound of your voice made him look up, his brows furrowed in confusion.

"I could ask you the same thing, Miss L/N," Severus mused. You couldn't help but smile coyly at him, padding forwards to move closer, your skin tingling with anticipation. "So, what brings you here?" Severus asked, his voice curious, yet there was also a hint of coldness to it. You assumed it was because he was tired - or at least hoped it was that.

"I couldn't sleep." You hummed, folding your arms against your body, the silk skirt of your yellow nightdress shimmering in the low, amber light. Severus found himself glimpsing down at your garment; the sheen of the smooth, rich fabric catching his attention. Your cheeks suddenly simmered from the way his eyes glazed over you.

He looked back up at you. "So, you chose to bother me instead?" Severus quirked a brow.

"Precisely." You smiled bashfully, a quiet laugh slipping from your mouth as you rocked back and forth on your heels, your eyes leaving his to glance nervously around his gloomy classroom.

"How lucky I am." He said sarcastically, leaning back in his chair. Your smile stayed on your face as you rolled your eyes, stomach flipping at his voice.

"It feels weird that almost a year ago, we were in here, brewing that Mandrake potion together." You commented as your eyes fell on the exact desk the two of you had stood at.

Severus's eyes followed yours. "Indeed," he spoke, gazing back at you as you were distracted, taking a moment to admire you. His heart skipped a beat as the corners of your lips quirked upwards into another sheepish smile. Though, he soon felt indifferent to it as the thought of Bluewater slipped into his mind. "That was also the time we spoke about... your friend." Severus added, tutting at the end as if he had to force himself to spit that word out.

"Oh, right, yeah," you said awkwardly, clearing your throat, "you two still seem to absolutely despise each other." You looked at Severus, a rush of butterflies surging through you as you found his inquisitive eyes already glued to you.

Severus only grunted in response, clearly unwilling to talk about Ben. His body stiffened and his eyes had hardened. "Who would have thought that he'd come back to haunt me later on." He huffed, voice soaked in sarcasm. You had to force yourself to keep a straight face, unsure of how he'd react if a smile broke out on your face. You didn't exactly want to get into an argument right now. "I was foolish to think that he'd had enough causing me grief every single period that we shared."

"He was just a boy back then." An amused hum left your lips, though Severus didn't share the same outlook. His face had become stony again, unfeeling.

"He is still a boy now." Severus spat, like the idea of Ben was poison in his mouth. "He's young, barely twenty-three. He has a lot to learn."

"Am I just a girl to you, then?" You tilted your head at Severus, a tiny smile picking at the corner of your lips. You were twenty-two, almost twenty-three - a whole lot younger than Severus.

He stayed silent for a moment, staring at you, studying your gleeful little face. You suddenly felt a little vulnerable and so you averted your eyes to the ground, your face hot and embarrassed.

"Far from it." He sighed, eyes still glued on you. No, you were so much more to him than you could imagine. He couldn't tell you that though. Not when you had a chance at true happiness with someone that suited you better than an old, ugly git such as himself. "You're a grown woman, you've proven that." His reply had you shocked. You were not expecting such a response, in fact, you were actually expecting a dig, or even a petty insult. Your stomach felt a little heavier as you frowned at him, your eyes gently and slowly dissecting his worn features.

"Oh?" Your voice slipped up an octave as you were caught a little off-guard. "What, err, makes you say that?"

"I don't think I need to explain my reasoning. You're an intelligent woman, no need to spoon-feed you." Severus said simply with a slow blink, his glittering black eyes staring into yours, prompting your cheeks to burn even hotter. You forgot how beautifully hypnotising those two pools of inky-black were as you stared into them, almost losing yourself again.

"It feels weird to hear you compliment me." A gentle laugh left your lips. Severus's own lips tugged upwards slightly, the smallest hint of a smile appearing on his usually-cold face. A comfortable, yet partially awkward silence hung in the air for a moment. You stepped forwards once more, shuffling closer to Severus's desk, almost a foot away from him now. You looked down at the piles of assignments in front of him, curious. "May I?" You asked quietly, gesturing to them. He nodded.

You picked one up and began to read.

'Amortentia is the strongest known love potion in the world. Amor is a Latin word meaning ''Love'', it is also the name of the Roman goddess of love. ''Tentia'' is the Latin for ''held''. It makes the drinker become infatuated and obsessed.'

"I remember this," you smiled, eyes still glued to the parchment, "fourth years, correct?" You looked back to Severus, who was currently staring at you with such soft eyes that you almost melted right on the spot. You had to clear your throat to attempt to compose yourself, though it was truly in vain. It hadn't helped.

"Correct." He muttered, still staring at you, inducing a shiver of goosebumps to erupt on your skin. Your breath hitched slightly as you gripped the parchment tighter, never breaking contact with his eyes. A sharp pain suddenly shot through your finger.

"Ouch," You gasped, the essay falling to the ground as you let go of it, rushing to grab your injured finger. Severus's brows furrowed at you.

"Are you alright?" He cast a glimpse at your finger that you were now squeezing tight, a tiny spot of blood beginning to dribble down it.

"Mhm, just a cut, I think I accidentally cut myself on something that was stuck to the paper." You laughed awkwardly, a little embarrassed as you flipped it over to see a shard of glass stuck to it in a sticky substance. You placed the parchment back onto his desk and looked down at your finger. A scarlet liquid was beginning to ooze out, and fast. You exhaled, feeling a little woozy. Blood was never your strong suit - as a matter of fact, you hated it. The sight of it always made you feel so lightheaded.

Severus noticed your unusual behaviour and quickly rose from his seat, rushing to your side. "Let me," He sighed softly, his hands taking ahold of yours, an electric jolt shooting through you. Your breath hitched once more as you glanced up at him, your wide, doe-like eyes meeting his sparkling obsidian ones. Severus felt like he couldn't breathe for a moment. He was trapped in your eyes, the buzz filling his body up like a drug. You drew him in so easily, and it didn't help that you were excruiatingly even more beautiful up close. The moonlight did you no justice in that greenhouse.

Forcing himself to tear his eyes from yours, he reluctantly looked back down to your injured finger, retrieving his wand from his sleeve. The moment he'd taken your hand in his, his mind went insane. There was no other feeling like it. Merlin, he wished he could experience that moment all over again.

"Does it hurt?" He asked, voice quiet, aiming the tip of his wand over the cut. You hadn't looked away from him once.

"No." You whispered. Severus's head shot up, his worried eyes meeting yours instantly. A warmth spread throughout his body, engulfing him. The two of you were so close, sheer milimetres apart. So close that if one of you leaned forwards even the tiniest amount, the tips of your noses could touch. He needed to stop getting himself into these situations with you, he wasn't going to get over you if you kept ending up inches apart.

His hot breath was on familiar territory again, tickling your pink cheeks, caressing your jaw. Like you were pulled forwards, you found yourself gradually leaning toward him with parted lips, testing the water as you brushed the tip of your nose against his larger one; soft eyes flicking between his lips and his two pools of black. You hesitated, waiting for Severus to respond, your heart thundering against your ribs like a starved lion locked within a cage.

His wand-holding hand faltered slightly, the tip tickling your palm as it grazed your skin; your creeping presence sending his own heart racing. A soft gasp left you as it touched your hand. Severus's mind was fighting desperately for him to pull away, to save you and him the heartache. Perhaps months ago, he'd listen. However, having you so close to him, so vulnerable and soft-looking, he couldn't help himself. Against the wishes of his mind, he tipped his head forwards with half-lidded eyes, nudging the side of your nose with his. Every bone in his body was screaming at him to pull away, to push you away to spare his heart. He knew he wouldn't be able to deal with the aftermath if you suddenly decided one day that he wasn't enough for you anymore. However, he decided that you were entirely worth the risk in this current moment.

You swallowed and allowed a hand to slip up onto his chest, your fingers splaying out slightly across the broad area. With a slow, controlled inhale, your eyes fluttered open to look up at his through your lashes. His tongue poked out sheepishly, wetting his lips as the two of you stared at one another, waiting for the other to make the first move.

He shuffled forwards once more, your lids fluttering shut as Severus pressed a soft and slow kiss against your lips. It was gentle, sweet and reserved. Tender, tickling you like butterfly wings. A warmth bloomed in your chest and your body leaned in instinctively towards his, silently begging him for more. As Severus pulled away, your eyes were still shut.

"Kiss me again," you whispered, "please."

The last word was all the encouragement he needed from you.

Severus leaned in once more, pressing another gentle kiss against your lips, another buzz of electrifying warmth sweeping through the two of you. It suddenly felt as if the world had stopped turning, like you'd been shot into another dimension as Severus held you close, his cool skin a great contrast against your burning skin. Your shallow breaths hitched once more as he sheathed his wand back up his sleeve, a hand coming to rest tenderly against your cheek; cradling your face like it was the most precious thing in the world as he kissed you. A part of you was melting at how gentle and soft he was being with you, and the other, wilder part was begging him to deepen the kiss; to just take control of you and show you how much you truly meant to him.

Your cardigan had slipped off of your shoulder as you leaned into his tender touch, exposing your skin to the chilly, damp air of his classroom sending a shivering chill through your body. Your other hand quickly snaked up his strong chest to meet your opposing one. After a moment, they found themselves nestled around his neck, a speck of blood staining his white collar from your finger as you grazed past it. Severus's other hand swiftly made its way to your waist and pulled you close, his body desperate to become drunk in your warmth once more. A soft moan bubbled in your throat as Severus peppered gentle kisses against you, pleading him to go further.

Almost immediately, he caved at the sound of you, his fingers digging into your clothed-flesh, any feeling of guilt fleeing from your body. Gods, you were so wrong, Ben was nothing compared to Severus. Ben never made you feel an ounce of the way that he did - you couldn't remember a time where Ben had touched your body the way he did, nor a time where Ben had kissed your lips as he did.

The two of you had become lost within each other as you made out sloppily in his classroom, his hands gripping you so deeply that the worries of Severus leaving bruises upon your supple skin had vanished from your mind. In fact, deep down, you were hoping he did. The way his hands held your body was heavenly, other-worldly.

You were a little embarrassed at how easily you folded with this man.

Severus's current state of mind was the total opposite of yours. In his head, all he heard was the constant chant of something telling him to stop. He pushed past it, drowning the voices out with harsher kisses, forcefully grabbing you tighter, pulling another moan from your lips. His conversation with Minerva from earlier began to rear its head within his own, torturing him. His stomach twisted awfully, and suddenly there was a bad taste in his mouth.

What the hell was he doing? You were seeing someone.

You were seeing someone.

Is this how pathetic and utterly sad he was? That he immediately latched onto you because he finally felt appreciated, wanted? For once, he didn't feel like a burden to the world. He felt validated, desired, perhaps even loved - everything he had ever wanted when he was younger. Your soft touches sent him spiralling, and he couldn't escape this maze of uncertainty. Did you truly feel something for him or was this some sort of sick, twisted fantasy you had? Were you just taking advantage of him? Was he so easy to be manipulated? He hoped not, he'd worked incredibly hard to get ahold of his emotions; imprisoning them. And you were breaking those thick walls down like dominoes.

"Severus, you're hurting me," Your voice suddenly whined, tearing him from his thoughts as your fingers touched his shaking hand that was gripping your hipbone like a merciless vice. Almost immediately, he released you from his grasp and stepped away, turning his back to you ashamedly. Several seconds of silence passed through the pair of you, your fingers lingering on the sore area, gently rubbing it in an attempt to soothe the ache. "Are you okay?" You kept your voice quiet and soft, careful not to startle him. He clearly wasn't in a good state of mind.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled, his head drooping, "I shouldn't have kissed you." Severus slowly turned around, his body parallel to yours, a solemn look upon his features. "It was wrong of me, and I was selfish." Severus added, his lips molding into that familiar, emotionless flat line as he stared at you. You frowned and reached your hand out to him, however, he shied away from it. Your chest tightened as you quickly pulled your hand back, hurt by his rejection. All this emotional warfare was wearing you down.

He's running away again, you thought, a shock of fear bolting through you.

"Why are you sorry?" Your brows furrowed deeply as you wrapped your arms around your body, the chill of the dungeon devouring you once more. You instantly missed his warmth against you.

"You're with Bluewater, are you not?" Severus's eyes hardened as he spoke that wretched name. Suddenly, your throat felt incredibly tight. Shit, Ben- he'd totally slipped your mind the moment Severus had kissed you. You'd undoubtedly made a bad habit of forgetting him when in the presence of Severus...

"Erm, yes." You said quietly. The tone of your voice had him confused. You sounded regretful.

Severus stood straighter as his hands slinked away behind his back. You shrunk underneath his towering height.

The next thing you wanted to say could ruin it all. You had no idea whether Severus felt the same. Did he feel something for you, or was it just lust for him? Perhaps some sort of fantasy of fooling around with a younger professor? Everything you'd built could come crashing down like a burning plane within seconds. Your hands suddenly felt clammy as you fought to find the right words, your mouth quivering.

"I..." you breathed out as your eyes fell to the ground for a moment, staring hard. "He's not you." You glanced back up at Severus, his scrutinising eyes sending your lungs into a breathless spasm. You felt like you couldn't breathe as you waited for his reply.

"Don't be a fool, Y/N." Severus's voice was cold. It made your stomach drop. Was this his way of rejecting your affections?

"I'm serious." You chewed on the inside of your cheek, eyes studying his unwavering stony face.

"You can do far better than me. I will only hurt you, Y/N," he spoke, his voice deep and languid, "I will destroy you in the most beautiful way possible, I will make it impossible to live a life without pain and regret. People do not linger around me for certain reasons."

"Yet I'm still here." You huffed quietly, your fingers squeezing your arms out of frustration.

"For now." Severus mused sarcastically, wallowing in his self-hatred. It hurt you to see his true opinion of himself, and it made your mind race with reasons as to why he despised himself so much.

"Why can't you see yourself the way I do?" You sighed softly, almost defeatedly, gazing at the man in front of you. Severus hated how your eyes were laden with sorrow.

"You look at the world with rose-coloured glasses. I do not." He replied. Those deep, black eyes had suddenly lost the flicker in them, and it pained you. He began to move, sweeping back to his desk, taking a seat behind it - still disorderly and untidy.

You were quiet, quite obviously hurt. Severus's jaw clenched, an ache spreading across his chest as a deep sigh fell through his nostrils.

"Why do you always shut me out, Severus?" A shaky exhale left you as your eyes burned. The emotional rollercoaster that this man was sending you on was truly heartwrenching.

He was silent in response to your question, eyes stuck to his messy desk, an indelicate representation of his current state of mind.

"Severus, answer me," you demanded, attempting to sound as stern as possible, though it was a pathetic failure as your voice broke; breathy sobs fighting to escape your throat. "Why are you so scared of this?"

"I will only hurt you, Y/N." He said, too afraid to look at you. Severus couldn't bear to see you so upset, especially because of him.

"You don't know that." You replied, voice soft.

"And you do?" Severus's head snapped up at you, frustrated, his eyes cold and ruthless; back to their usual appearance. A quiet gasp shot out of your quivering mouth. "Bluewater is better for you." He admitted. How could he say that when he'd said you'd deserved better than him?

"You have no idea what you're talking about!" You cried out, the building frustration within you finally crumbling and spilling out through your tears. Severus looked away from you, physically unable to watch you cry. Gods, he wanted to rush to you and hold you, tell you that everything was going to be alright, but he couldn't. He had no idea if things were going to be okay. And they definitely wouldn't be if he had the honour of callilng you his. "Y/N-" His eyes were still avoiding you, too ashamed to even look at you.

"No, Severus, what gives... what gives you the right to kiss me, to pull me so close to you and then suddenly shove me away like I'm nothing but a piece of dirt on your shoe?" You rambled, your hands flying outwards frantically as hot tears rolled down your cheeks. It was embarrassing how unravelled you'd become, but you couldn't stop yourself. He'd finally broken you. "You can't keep doing this to me, I can't- it's..." Your lungs and throat burned. You'd exhausted yourself. "To kiss you? Did you not initiate it?" He scowled at you. "You were the one pushing your face into mine!"

"Okay, sure, I admit to that- but you didn't have to kiss me! You could have walked away!" You cried, walking up to his desk and pointing a finger at his face. Immediately, his lip curled upwards, his features twisting into a disdainful scowl.

"Is that not what you wanted?! For me to kiss you?!" Severus bellowed, rising from his desk chair, his hands slamming down onto the desk furiously. This time you didn't flinch, too distracted by the flaming hot anger searing through your veins.

"Did you?!" You exclaimed back at him, leaning forwards over his desk. One more time, the two of you were impossibly close - so close that you were sure you could feel the angry heat radiating from each other's bodies.

The room was suddenly dead silent, and yet, the only things the two of you could hear were the ragged, desperate breaths that seeping out of your heaving chests.

"Go to hell, Snape." You whispered with a red face. You felt humiliated, angry, upset- actually, you were certain every single emotion was surging through you right now; the way your body was trembling uncontrollably made you sure of it.

Severus's lack of an answer more than enough for you. With a frustrated, teary-eyed huff, you spun around, storming straight for his door.

Jesus, how could you have fallen for such a cruel man? Were you so blind? He had an abysmal reputation for a reason, yet you still selfishly thought that you could change him, that you could fix him and make him a better person. And you were wrong, Gods, were you so. Fucking. Wrong.

You were only three steps away, when a strong hand suddenly gripped your arm, spinning you around with force. You whirled around, taken by surprise as Severus crashed his lips against yours, his touch-hungry hands rushing carelessly to grasp at your waist, drawing your body into his. He was like a devouring flame, hungry and starving for its fuel of life. You gasped against his lips, your body soon falling victim to his alluring aura, melting shamelessly into him. Your mind clouded with lust and desire as your hands swiftly settled around his neck once again, desperately tugging him as close to you as possible as a few stray tears fell from your closed eyes, wetting both of your cheeks. You were unabashedly needy for his touch - for his lips, for his whole self in general - your body and heart was begging for him, and Severus noticed.

Severus pushed you backwards towards the very desk that the two of you had brewed the Mandrake potion a year ago, his hands slipping underneath your thighs to lift you up effortlessly. Your bum grazed against the surface as he placed you down, a rogue piece of wood tearing the hem of your nightdress slightly. You spread your legs, inviting him in, his hips pressed against the edge of the desk as he kissed you hungrily. Severus's hands slipped up from your thighs and felt their way up to your waist again, squeezing you tenderly, shooting a delicious shiver up your spine. He pulled a delicate moan from your lips as he let one of his hands snake up to your neck, his thumb grazing against the side of your breast on its travels. A groan bubbled in his throat at the sultry noise, a thrilling jolt trembling through him as his hand gently grasped the back of your neck, his cold fingers tickling the nape of it.

You mindlessly wrapped your legs around his hips, tugging him closer with each lingering kiss like he could be ripped away from you any second. Severus's hips rutted against yours and you gasped, prompting an animalistic groan from his mouth.

Your hands fell from his neck, sliding agonisingly slow down his torso and halting themselves at his hips, toying with the buckle and buttons of his trousers. Instantaneously, with his wet and swollen lips still glued to yours, his hand abandoned your waist to help you with his clothing, unbuckling them one-handedly. You were impressed to say the least.

As you fumbled with his zipper, Severus returned his hands to your body. His slender and skilled fingers found your cardigan and slipped it off of your shoulders and arms, discarding it to the ground. You whined slightly at the sudden bitter air, though it was soon silenced as Severus delved his wet tongue wildly into your mouth, licking and caressing it against your own. You moaned as he moved his mouth down to your jaw, nipping at it sweetly, his tongue leaving a hot trail as he made his way down toward your neck; his fingers having a mind of their own as they flew to your shoulders, tugging at the straps of your nightdress. Another breathless moan tumbled freely from your mouth as Severus sucked sweetly on your neck, pushing you backwards onto the surface of the table. You let yourself be guided by him as you laid back on the desk, arching yourself as your hands flew from his hips to the back of his neck, diving your fingers into his thick, mop of black hair, urging him to continue.

Your lids are lazy and heavy as you let him ravage your neck with sinful lips. "Severus," You whispered, breathless, sending a shockwave through him. "Need you-" A lewd whine left you as your body rocked hungrily against his.

"Patience," He whispered back against your hot skin, panting. You whined once more, evidently unhappy with his response. Severus chuckled, pulling away from your slender neck, your hands sliding down from the mess of his hair to his clothed biceps. He leaned down toward your face once more, a pool of warmth flourishing in his torso as he gazed down at you. He lifted a large hand and placed it tenderly against your cheek, his thumb brushing against the pinkened apples of your cheeks. Instinctively, you leaned into his sweet touch, your cheeks flushing a deeper shade of red, inducing a rare smile upon Severus's lips. You allowed your fingers to shift from his tensed arms to the hem of his cloak on his chest.

"What?" You asked quietly, a coy smile gracing your full, swollen lips as you beckoned him closer with a tug at his cloak that lingered between the pads of your fingers.

"Nothing." He rumbled in his deep voice, still staring at you. You sucked in a cheek and bit down on the inside of it, the overwhelming feeling of vulnerability eating you up. His thumb brushed against your cheek again, sending a shiver throughout your body.

"Then kiss me again, will you?" You laughed softly, slightly embarrassed at the dishevelled state you were currently in. You gave another tug at his cloak again. Severus's lips quirked upwards again at your demand, caving at your sweet voice. He leant down slowly, large nose brushing against yours in an intimate fashion as he pressed a soft, chaste kiss against your reddened lips.

In this tender and soft moment that you shared with Severus, all you wanted to do was remain here forever. Seeing him act so warm and soft with you felt like a fever dream. From the callous way he spoke to you in the first year, you never expected a man like him to have such a gentle and delicate side. It was momentous - he'd finally succumbed to you, allowing you into his world; a side of him you never thought you'd ever see. And you were eternally grateful for it.

You felt yourself becoming lost in his addicting touch again as his hands travelled down your body, gently caressing your flaming hot skin. They reached your thighs, squeezing them, and your back arched into him; the fire from before burning hotter.

Kissing you, Severus trailed the tips of his fingers down your legs, toying with the hem of your nightdress, slowly and teasingly guiding it up towards your thighs. The sensation sent a chill down your spine as the crisp air nipped at your bare legs, excited goosebumps erupting all over you. With a delicious, muffled hum, he hooked a finger underneath the string of your underwear, pulling at it.

"You want this?" He muttered against your lips, his eyes fluttering open for a brief moment.

"Yes," you panted, "please, yes."

At the sound of your pleas, Severus slipped your lacy panties off of you, discarding them on the ground with your cardigan. Instantly, he grazed his hand up the inner side of your calf, and up your thigh, coming to a teasingly close stop at where you needed him most. You whined, rocking your hips into him, begging, pleading him to touch you. A throaty growl rumbled out of him, and he mashed his lips harsher against yours, diving his tongue into your wet mouth, engaging in a heated quarrel with your own. You gasped as his hand finally settled on your burning core, a single cool finger delving itself between your wet folds, circling around your sensitive bud.

A strangled moan left your mouth as he added another finger, tracing the outline of you agonisingly slow, a coil tightening within the confines of your belly. You were panting helplessly now as he teased you, losing all control as Severus slipped his fingers inside of you, extracting a high-pitched whine from your throat. You grit your teeth as he curled them inside of you, clutching at any last bit of strength within you to stop yourself from screaming out. Your body was trembling now, hopelessly, as Severus had you wrapped around his fingers quite literally.

You exhaled, "Severus," with a whiny moan, he pulled away from your mouth and removed his fingers from you and brought them up to your lips. Without hesitation, you parted them, prompting Severus to dip them into your mouth, your tongue curling around them sinfully. A groan bubbled in the back of his throat as you tightened your legs around his hips, begging for him to continue.

A smug smirk picked at the corners of his lips as he stared at you. Your lips were wrapped around his two fingers, saliva dripping messily from them, your eyes blown and dark, hungry for more of him.

"Such a good girl," Severus uttered, tilting his chin upwards. You almost combusted right then and there. "You always were." He hummed. Instantly, your hands flew to his trousers, tugging at them with wild determination. You couldn't wait any longer, you needed him now.

He pulled his fingers out of your pretty mouth and helped you, lowering his trousers; the growing tent in his boxers driving you insane. Your fingers hook at the hem of them as his own did with your panties, pulling them down urgently. A fierce flicker of lust and desire flashed in your eyes as his cock bounced free, your legs tugging him closer to you once more, a whimper leaving your lips in an attempt to persuade him to finally take you.

"Sev, please," The way you shortened his name in your soft, enticing and whiny voice almost sent him tumbling over the edge. He drew a sharp breath as he placed a hand against your cheek, and his other underneath your nightdress upon your waist, his fingers finally touching and squeezing your naked flesh. He groaned as you rutted your hips against him again. Without a delay, he slipped himself inside of you, the pair of you moaning together at the intense flash of pleasure washing over you like a tsunami.

Severus's mind was jaded as he fucked you, his mouth parting and lips quivering as he allowed himself to become lost in the ripples of unwavering bliss that rattled through his body. Your hands snaked up to his face and cradled it sweetly, pulling him back down to meet your lips again. The kisses were short and sweet, nothing like the hungry and harsh ones before.

Your head fell back slightly, your bottom lip caught between his teeth as Severus's full length sheathed itself inside of your warm, hot core; the delicious slapping of yours and his flesh echoing in his classroom. All those years ago, studying in here, never did you think that you'd find yourself right here in this sensual moment.

Severus's hand that was sat on your waist slipped downwards and settled itself on your hip, fingers digging harshly into your skin as he felt himself teetering closer to the edge. His breaths were becoming ragged, laboured and heavy, and so he brought his other hand down to your womanhood, slipping his fingers between your folds once more to thumb your clit. As he circled it skillfully, your body quaked with every rub, strings of moans and gasps falling freely and shamelessly from your busied mouth. The coil within you tightened, and your fingers sunk themselves into his mop of black hair once more, gripping it with force as your body shook uncontrollably.

Severus's thrusts became sloppy and uncalculated as he pulled his face back from you, watching as you came undone beneath him; your face twisting in a dangerously beautiful manner as the coil snapped. He moved his hands from you and placed them beside your hips as your walls clenched frantically around him, and Severus himself was sent tumbling over the edge, a broken and throaty animalistic moan slipping out of his mouth as his body gave out, collapsing over you. Catching himself with his hands, he transferred his weight to his elbows and forearms, leaning up slightly to gaze at you. His black eyes twinkled beautifully in the amber glow of his classroom, a flush of warmth blossoming over your spent, sweaty body. A gentle giggle came from you, and he found himself smiling. Usually, it felt odd for such an expression to take hold of his features, however, with you, it felt natural. Like it was meant to be there.

(end of 18+)

He allowed himself a moment to recuperate as your fingers softened their grasp in his hair, gradually glazing to his cup his red cheeks, thumbs brushing sweetly against his burning skin. He pulled himself out of you and pulled up his trousers, buckling them up. He pulled your nightdress back down over your legs, his hand lingering over your thigh.

"Don't you look happy with yourself," you giggled again, and Severus hushed you with a gentle kiss on your lips. "I never thought I'd see the day."

"What do you mean?" He frowned softly, thumb brushing against the silk material that covered your thigh. A warmth pooled in your belly at his touch.

"You're smiling, and it's not forced... or sarcastic." You smiled, biting down on your bottom lip playfully.

"I can't help myself," Severus muttered, his face mere centimetres away from yours, "You just seem to pull them out of me." The warmth within your burned a little hotter.

"Don't stroke my ego, you'll regret it, Sev." You joked, a toothy grin replacing the sweet smile. He chuckled at you.

"I hate to bring this up, however, it's niggling at my mind," Severus suddenly sighed, the tiny flicker of a smile that was on his face disappearing. "What about Bluewater now?"

You scrunched your nose up at the sound of his name, the guilt that once vanished making a very hasty return to your body, sinking into your aching shoulders. "Um," you winced, "I don't know. I can't exactly... end things with him whilst he's staying here, erm, I'm not sure how he'll react." You finished, allowing your fingers to brush through Severus's dishevelled black hair.

"Hm," he hummed, pondering. "what does that mean... for us?"

"We will just have to grin and bear it until he 'deems it safe to leave'." You made a face, mocking Ben's words from that moment in the Great Hall. A faint amused smile spread across Severus's face, your chest tingling at the sight of it. "And I'm not sure I can tell him about us, he might just lose it, you know how he... you know- hates you."

"That would truly be a sight to behold," Severus smirked, the arrogance in him slithering out. You rolled your eyes at him. "However, we must be wise in our decisions, I do not want you getting hurt." His other hand held your cheek, fingers brushing a stray strand of messy hair behind your reddening ears.

"Do you think you can handle acting like you hate me for a few more days?" You asked, a bashful grin gracing your blushing face. Your hand settled atop of his large one as he caressed your cheek. Severus couldn't believe how lucky he was. What on Earth did he do to deserve this? To deserve such a beautiful, kind creature like you?

"I did it for the past year, another few days is nothing." He quipped quickly, a playful tone in his voice. You scoffed at him.

"Wow," you breathed out, grinning, your hands flying to his chest to push him off of you. He obliged and leaned up, stepping out of the trap of your legs. You slipped off of the table and picked up your underwear and cardigan, putting them both back on. An embarrassed red blush fluttered across your cheeks as fresh memories of Severus rolling up your nightdress flooded your mind, almost drowning you.

"Oh, that's too far?" He laughed softly. You head flew to look at him, your heart skipping a beat from the sound of his beautiful laugh. You'd never heard it before, and it was... gorgeous, to say the least.

"That's the first time I've heard you laugh - genuinely." You gasped, an uncontrollable smile spreading across your face like a wildfire. Almost immediately, Severus's face dropped and he rolled his eyes, clearly opposed to your positive reaction. He wasn't exactly fond of being fawned over, it made him feel weak.

"And it'll be the last." He groaned, turning away from you as another sweet laugh bubbled in the back of your throat.

"I should get back, Ben is probably wondering where I am, or... he's still asleep, oblivious to the world." You sighed heavily, padding towards Severus's tall, cloaked form. He slowly turned around, his black eyes sparkling in the orange torchlight.

"Yes," He said softly, fingers coming up to hold your chin. All sense and feeling suddenly drained from your legs. "Though I'm not sure I can promise to stay away from you, let alone keep my hands off of you." Severus muttered, his deep, languid voice sending a shock through your smaller body.

Your breath hitched, "Well, you're going to have to try," you exhaled softly, eyes flicking between his. He brought your chin up, cool fingers grasping it sweetly, and pressed a tender kiss upon your lips. Naturally, your hands flew up to sit against his strong chest, a guttural groan emitting from his throat as he kissed you. You had to swallow the moan that threatened to slip from you, feeling yourself become aroused all over again. "Alright, I really have to go." You whispered against his mouth, though your body was showing the complete opposite of what you said.

You kissed him back, a little harder, tracing your tongue against the surface of his bottom lip. "Go, then." He murmured back, hands slipping from your face and down to your waist, gripping you teasingly slow. You arched into him, breaths becoming shallow and wanting.

"I'm trying," you whimpered, "you're making this very hard."

"Let me make it easy for you then." Before you could protest, Severus tore himself from you, a needy, desperate whine falling from your lips.

"Gods, you're such a tease." You groaned, folding your arms against your chest, a clear show of disappointment. Severus couldn't help but smile at you. You looked so incredibly cute with that unhappy frown on your little face.

"My apologies." Severus mused sarcastically. "Now, go, I will see you tomorrow."

You sighed, "Alright, fine..." eyes looking at his form dangerously, rousing him.

"Stop it, Y/N."

"What?"

"You know exactly what you're doing."

"Do I?" You blinked, an innocent look crossing your features.

"Leave. Now." Severus said sternly, gesturing to the door as he swept behind his desk, seating himself.

"Alright, I'm going." You couldn't help but smile cheekily as you moved towards the door, fingers clicking it open reluctantly. "Same time tomorrow?"

"We'll see. Now, go."

And so you did, slipping out of his classroom sneakily, making sure to shut his door as quietly as possible with the brightest smile on your blushing face.

What the hell just happened?

Part 12!

oh LORDT. i do hope i wrote that scene well, it was tough i won't lie. however, credit to the weeknd, bro really helped me.

let me know your thoughts, i'm always curious to see what you think :)

i love you guys!! thank you again!! make sure to drink enough water, it's getting super hot again ffs! >:(

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silverzoomies · 8 months

Text

Screwball

peter maximoff x reader smut

warnings: smut, slow burn, kissing, hand jobs, loss of virginity, temperature play, mutant reader, ice powers, porn with plot, clunky writing

word count: 14,151

a/n: im so late posting this. i meant to finish this one like a month ago. but it's already september !! and a heatwave fic seems so out of season !! oh well !! i hope someone out there enjoys this. i went through hell tryin' to finish it. but i'm pretty happy with the way it panned out,,

apologies for the usual: clunky writing, slow as fuck execution, potentially ooc dialogue, etc etc etc kbgsjbdghsoiheg

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Westchester, New York had never seen such a record breaking heat wave.

And in all his reckless, fast paced years up to the ripe age of thirty, neither had Peter.

His fragmented memory is jam packed. Cluttered with disorganized checklists of every place he’s ever been. Not that he’s bragging or anything. But Peter’s basically seen the entire world, and then some. If one were to count those gnarly, X-Men space missions. He’d gone places no non-mutant could ever conceivably dream of reaching. From the deathly cold peak of Mount Everest, to the blistering sands of the Sahara desert itself.

Even with all that collected experience, Peter’s a hundred percent sure; he’s never faced summertime heat as insanely lethal as this.

Okay, sure. Maybe declaring Westchester as hotter than the Sahara might be a bit of a stretch. But to Peter’s credit, this heat wave is dangerous enough to warrant a citywide advisory. Which, in layman’s terms, means: don’t get ballsy. Unless you wanna end up fryin’ like an egg on the sidewalk.

The weather outside is so grisly, in fact, the X-Men themselves had to call their latest mission quits. Imagine that! Crazy, right? A fierce team of mutant heroes, capable of taking on behemoth sized sentinels. And even they didn’t dare another second in the heat.

Peter detached himself from the concept of religion ages ago. But thank the mysterious powers above, whoever they may be. Because he was legit two seconds away from collapsing to the ground, in a boiled heap of skin and bone.

He stumbles off the X-jet on wobbly legs. And no joke, Peter swears his muscles have somehow melted into jelly. It’s supremely embarrassing, the way he struggles to keep up with the team as they move ahead. They all stop before going upstairs, waiting to reconvene with Xavier. Organized in a careless, half circle; the X-Men look as though they’ve returned from an Olympic marathon. Their bodies exhausted, and blanketed in buckets of sweat.

Naturally, on account of Peter’s super dope, mutant genes; his body functioned at a nonstop rate of super sonic speed. As a repercussion, his average body temperature burned leagues hotter than any non-mutant’s. It wasn’t abnormal for Peter to dread the tormenting heat of the summer season.

In the blazing eye of a dangerous heat wave, swarming the city like an apocalyptic storm; Peter’s absolutely certain – like, for sure, he’s teetering on the brink of death. A miserable, stewing-in-your-own-sweat kinda death. Leave it to Logan to recite the eulogy at Peter’s funeral. No doubt, Wolvie would have nothing but positive things to say about Peter after he died. Most definitely.

Peter might be a teensy bit freaked out actually. Since he had no idea he was even capable of experiencing heat exhaustion. It almost makes him paranoid. Like a hypochondriac with a chest ache. In an attempt to force his recovery, Peter chugs through exactly thirteen bottles of dollar store water in a flash. The source of his stash? A stainless steel, mini fridge in Hank’s lab.

He knows Hank’s gonna be totally peeved when he finds the fridge raided clean. But Peter doesn’t bother worrying about that right now. Instead, he makes a mental reminder: Water bottles. An IOU. One he’ll probably forget about within the next two seconds. And never get around to fulfilling.

Professor Chucksters is talking, but Peter can’t find it in himself to listen to a single word. Whatever momentous info the ol’ baldy drops, flies a thousand miles over his feverish head. Peter cranes his neck back in overheated agony, lazily chugging Hank’s last remaining bottle of crisp, cold water. The smooth bite of that cold down Peter’s throat makes him exhale with relief through his nose.

Halfway through, he stops to shower his head in the rest. Letting chilly droplets rain down over his silver hair. Sharp tingles erupt down his neck and across his shoulders. Peter shudders, humming in delight to himself.

Oh. Shit. Wait…

Peter then comes to the regrettable realization that, in a heatwave so hazardous; water is a necessity to be shared.

No shit, blockhead.

Now, mind you, Peter isn’t known for his forethought. He’s pretty overzealous. Had he taken time to stop and think for a hot sec…yeah. Sure. Maybe he should’ve been more mindful of his suffering teammates. Oopsie daisies.

Much like a careless dog, Peter shakes off the cold drops soaking his hair. Sprinkles of water splash all around him, with Jubilee caught in the line of fire. She jumps in place with an abrupt, but silent exclamation of ‘ew!’ Shooting Peter a look of burning fury. Damp strands of Peter’s hair fan over his eyes. He runs his fingers slowly through them to give his forehead some air.

Maybe Peter’s a little delusional. Because he swears on his life he catches a red tint in Jubilee’s cheeks. She scoffs, like she can’t stand his bullshit. He throws her a wink. A beat later, she smiles and rolls her eyes.

Peter smirks. Lucky for him, his speedster charm has yet to fizzle out.

The team waits patiently for their opportune moment to flee. It’s obvious they’re all pretty antsy. Probably since they’re dying to change into something lighter. Better fitted for Satan’s city wide celebration of hellfire and brimstone. Anything but the jumpsuits, at least. But that’s just a hunch.

In Peter’s own personal opinion? The most ideal scenario would be to strut around naked, in nothing at all. Sounds awesome, right? Freedom from the suffocation of needless threads! However, societal standards and modern customs definitely wouldn’t allow such debauchery. Not to mention, Peter isn’t super keen on the idea of peeping his teammates in their birthday suits.

Except for Raven, maybe. He never gets tired of looking at those scales. All that blue. Nice.

Oh. And…you. Frankly, Peter’s willing to risk it all just to catch a glimpse of you in the buff.

He swallows a thick lump forming in his throat, sneaking a lightning fast glance in your direction. Observing you with a gawking gaze, Peter ignores the way his heartbeat kicks up to roadrunner speed. Faster than fast. Like, cartoonishly fast. It’s ridiculous.

You’re completely impervious to any heatwave debuffs. Lucky lucky. Standing there without a care in the world, you listen attentively to professor Charlie Brown’s ramblings. Since you’re so distracted, Peter lets his speedy eyes shamelessly wander. Trailing down the glittering, icy blue of your jumpsuit. Uniquely personalized to coincide with your wintry gimmick.

Which doesn’t at all explain why it’s so inappropriately skin tight.

Peter feels himself choke on his next breath. But he’s quick to blame it on the weather. Yeah. It’s just the heat that’s stifling him. Nothing else. Get real, dude.

The sparkling material of your suit hugs your figure a little too perfectly. Complementing every irresistible curve. Peter always thought you looked so ludicrously fine in that suit. If not way, way, way too distracting. Sometimes, he found it ultra hard – ignoring any euphemisms – to maintain focus during missions. Usually because your frosty ass came twinkling in his peripheral, throwing off his mojo.

But let’s chalk Peter’s lack of focus up to his chronic ADD instead, ‘kay?

Heck. Maybe it wasn’t the ADD’s fault. At least, not entirely. Like, cut the bullshit for a sec. Peter doesn’t have a lot of sexual experience. He’s never gone any further than a dozen heated sessions of heavy petting. And from time to time, though he hates to admit it; it haunts him. The way he’s so suppressed. Overflowing with pent-up desire.

Thirty years old and still a virgin? Clock’s ticking, Quickie. No wonder he can’t take his hungry eyes off your body.

Speaking of your body.

Damn, is it hot in here? Or is it just you?

It’s most definitely not you.

Your body naturally radiates a refreshing aura of frigidity. It’s no coincidence, the way your teammates linger so closely in your proximity. Peter can’t really blame them for doing so. You’re the human equivalent of an icebox. Even a touch of your finger could turn the entire X-mansion into a winter wonderland. Part of him wonders why you haven’t done so already. Since you’d be sparing everyone the infernal anguish of this awful heat wave.

Maybe you’re just as absentminded as he is.

Anyway, right about now, Peter desperately yearns to be a long lost tub of neapolitan. Stuffed deep inside your metaphorical freezer.

Which…sounds way dirtier than intended.

Fuck. Alright. Moving on.

Tugging at the collar of his jumpsuit, Peter fights to catch his breath. The fierce heat from outside has somehow seeped its way into the X-Men’s base of operations. Almost like an act of god. Or more like a punishment, maybe.

In desperate need of relief, Peter looks to you once more. He finds himself struck with an ingenious, lightbulb moment then.

A blink, and he bolts, appearing directly behind you. A faint gust of wind flutters your hair. But the breeze fails to even make you flinch. Peter isn’t the least bit subtle with his actions, as he presses his burning body a little too closely into your back. And hoooooooooooooo mama! The sweet relief of your icy presence is so worth any consequences, should they arise.

You whip your head around suddenly, giving Peter a weird look and a once over. He can’t really blame you for staring at him like that. Sure, you’re both teammates. Even family, one might argue. You’re both fighting for the same cause. But you haven’t built an inseparable bond with Peter or anything.

Honestly, he’d be totally down if you did. But that’s neither here nor there.

Peter always thought you were pretty damn cool. In more ways than one, if your glacial mutation was included in the mix. If he were more honest with himself, he would’ve acknowledged his dumb, boyish crush on you an entire ice-age ago. Oh well.

He’s still too much of an awkward spaz for his own good sometimes.

You seem…confused. Staring at Peter as if silently asking him a question. If he had to guess, it’s probably something along the lines of – what the hell do you think you’re doing, you handsome scoundrel? Peter exchanges your puzzled look with an uneasy smile. Dramatically, he fans himself with a hand. Hoping you get the hint, he pokes his tongue out to playfully express his suffocating torment.

Thankfully, you pick up what he’s putting down. As you turn back around, you giggle cutely. Peter breathes an alleviating sigh. He’s left to bask in the glory of your wintry aura. So freeing, and so, so cold. He could kiss you as a thanks, if only you’d let him. But you’ve already directed your attention to Xavier’s painfully long lecture.

Wait. Seriously, how long was this talk supposed to last? It feels like a million years at this point and-

Peter checks the Star Trek watch on his wrist. It’s only been…five minutes. Huh.

The gathering of ye olde X-council draws to a close. At long last! Xavier wraps up his spiel of heroic efforts , world peace , and wonderful work everyone. Bla bla bla. Don’t get Peter wrong. He harbors a lot of respect for the guy. Any other day, and he would’ve found those words somewhat awe inspiring. If not the slightest bit misguided.

But today? Professor, dude, now’s not the time to be preaching words of wisdom. Your nerd club’s literally cooking from the inside out. Give it a rest.

The team wastes no time. As soon as Chuck’s given the go-ahead, they’re gone. High-tailing it upstairs as fast as their tired legs can go. Which isn’t all that fast. At least, not by Peter’s standards. But he’s hella impressed with the enthusiasm.

Unlike everyone else, you move at a frustratingly slow pace. Walking behind you feels akin to waiting too long in a DMV line. Something Peter’s never had to do a single day in his life. And he’s not about to start now. It’s monotonous, and borderline infuriating. But his heightened impatience is probably just another consequence of this outrageous heat.

You take your sweet ass time – and holy moly, did you have a sweet ass – as you ascend to the first floor of the X-mansion. Peter follows after you like a lost puppy, not too far behind. On your way to – presumably – your room, you climb another, dreaded flight of stairs. And since when were stairs a hindrance to a speedster like Peter? He’s never once felt winded making a simple ascent like this. Ever.

Peter’s growing more and more restless. His skin feels sticky and uncomfortable under his jumpsuit, but he can’t rush home to grab a change of clothes. He’s unwilling to risk a race through whatever hellscape lies in waiting outside. No matter how little time it takes him. Not while his lungs are cooking to a crisp.

He aches for the touch of your icy hands. Plain and simple. Nothing to it. Nothing sexual. No strings attached.

Unless…you had a preference for strings. Peter would tie them around his wrists and move like a marionette puppet if you asked. Shit, you want a whole show? Bring out the dancing Muppets.

Midway through your ascent, Peter appears in front of you. He stops you suddenly, leaning casually with his hand against the wooden railing. His other hand rests on his hip. Lamely, he forces himself to act as naturally as he can. Which is virtually impossible, considering the circumstances. But even so, Peter throws you his signature grin and nods his head.

Be cool, dude. Be cool. Ease into it. Just try not to think about how you’re literally baking to death here.

His overheated exhaustion is impossible to miss. Even a dense chimp in a blindfold could sense something’s off about him. The quick rise and fall of Peter’s chest is a dead give away. Revealing how labored his breathing really is. Trickles of sweat race in a tense competition down Peter’s temples. Warm heat pools in his cheeks, and his skin appears ghostly pale.

That…might be the reason you gaze at him like you’re worried sick. As if you’ve seen a haunting, silverette ghost. Peter looks like he’ll pass out sometime within the next five minutes. Realistically, he should probably seek medical attention immediately. But he fakes his aloof casualness anyway.

“Heyyyyy, what’s the haps? Where’re you headed in such a rush, Screwball?” Peter asks, somewhat condescending.

“Screwball?” You narrow your eyes, puzzled, “Oh, y’know, my room probably? I might take a nap. Why?” You laugh despite your confusion, crossing your arms. Fixing Peter with a look that only suggests one thing: suspicion.

Fair enough.

He nods, rapidly tapping his fingers on the railing.

“Cool. Coooooool. I can dig it. Nothin’ wrong with that. I mean, who wouldn’t wanna spend a summer afternoon like this lazin’ around in bed, amiright?”

Good. Nice and easy. Peter should probably stop there, and speak no further. But his hazy, addled mind works on autopilot. The words race past his lips faster than he can keep up.

“It’s hot as hell today too. So, you could totally sprawl out butt ass naked and-”

Too late.

“...Yeah?” Based on your expression alone, Peter knows he’s made a total ass of himself. By some miracle, you don’t deck him with an icy fist of freezing fury. Not that you seemed the violent type to begin with.

“Wait, no-” He abruptly pauses to try and make sense of his thoughts. A stifling heat in the air swarms his head, drowning Peter in hot molasses, “Oh. Gah! What the hell am I even saying? Sorry, that was-uh…that was totally weird, right? Uh, lemme start over-uhm-”

Peter clears his throat, masking his mortification with his speedster charm. Super popular with the ladies. Tested on the battlefield of life and approved. A five star rating. No need to question why he still hasn’t managed to get laid, like ever.

“Sooooooooo…anyway. Y’wanna hang out?” He asks, cheesing a dorky grin.

“You never ask me to hang out with you. But today, of all days…that’s when you do? Everything’s closed, Peter. Y’know, because of the heat advisory? I mean, clearly…you look like you know.” You gesture to Peter himself.

A sweaty sheen coats his skin. He really should’ve taken a cold shower in the communal washrooms. At least before confronting you like this. Man, he really screwed this up. If this interaction falls flat, Peter’s just gonna bail. Maybe he’ll try and stuff himself in that mini fridge of Hank’s. He’d be way better off there. Until Beastie finds him, anyway.

“Uh, yeah? Pffft …no duh. I knew that. But, so what? Just ‘cuz there’s some lame stuff happening outside. That doesn’t mean we can’t do somethin’ totally cool inside. Know what I mean?” Simple and subtle.

“Hm…” You think on his offer for a moment. But it feels like he's aged another thirty years by the time you reply, “At least let me change first, okay? You probably should too! I know you gotta be burnin’ up in that jumpsuit, sweetheart!”

A dopey smile plays on Peter’s lips, pressing into his dimples.

So…sweetheart, eh? That’s a new one.

Politely, you push past Peter to make your way up the remaining stairs. Without any forethought or plan of action, he cuts you off again. He slides across the floor into your visual radius, worn sneakers squeaking along polished wood. Wait…why’s he losing his balance?? Peter doesn’t usually lose his balance. Shit.

Ah. he’s lightheaded now. Great.

You’re close enough that Peter can feel the tempting coldness radiating off your body. Oh, man. If only you’d envelop him in your frosty arms completely. You could even lay on top of him like a blanket of snow post avalanche. Anything. Please. Peter is so beyond desperate to beat the heat, he’d let you pelt him with a flurry of snowballs. At least then, he wouldn’t feel a spark away from igniting into flames.

Staring at him with an impatient look, you tilt your head and furrow your brows. Awkwardly, Peter shifts on his feet. Thick humidity overflows his lungs, close to bursting with the force of an atomic bomb. Breathing is near impossible at this point. Peter may as well bite the silver bullet, before he finally kicks the bucket.

Godspeed, or however the saying goes.

“Hi…sorry. Okay-uh…hear me out, please?” He begs. Peter brings his hands together in front of him like he’s praying at the altar, “This is gonna sound weird. Like, next-level weird. Yer probably gonna think I’m a huge creep. And I’m not tryna freak you out ‘er anything. ‘kay? Like, I totally get it if yer not down for this. ‘Cuz, y’know, we’re not really all that close. Plus, you probably have other stuff you’d rather be doin’ than helpin’ out some loser like me, but-” Peter rapidly stammers over his words.

Way to go, ponyboy. Graceful as ever.

Holding out a small hand to politely silence Peter, you utter his name in the sweetest tone he’s ever heard. Hushed, soft, and so gentle. Your voice is the equivalent of candy to his eardrums. He kinda really digs the way you sound when you talk. So courteous and nice all the time.

Be still, his palpitating heart. Seriously. Calm down. Or he’s literally gonna die.

“Peter?”

“Uhyeahwhat?” He stammers again.

“Are you…okay? You’re sweating like crazy. You look like you’re gonna pass out, dude.”

Peter throws you an ‘ok’ sign with a hand, his grin sluggish.

“Peachy keen, baby.”

He swears with every fiber of his sweltering soul that calling you ‘baby’ made you blush. But, y’know, since he’s a little bit doubtful, he might have to test that theory again. Just to be a hundred percent sure. Break out the ol’ chalkboard and sketch some x’s and o’s like a scientific diagram. Top of the line research. He’s the leading psychoanalyst in speedster charisma.

“You sure about that?” You ask, arching a brow, holding an easygoing smile.

Taking a few steps closer, you bless Peter with your emanating chill. He doesn’t at all expect you to raise your hand. Peter swallows a thick, blistering lump in his throat. Frozen in place, he watches in slow motion as you bring the tips of your frosty fingers to his chest. Brisk, winter cold spreads in fractals of frost over his jumpsuit.

Freezing heaven on scorching earth. It’s sorta…poetic, in a way. Peter blinks rapidly, caught in a mind-altering daze for a beat or two. Your touch really is like a miracle cure, alleviating that stifling thickness suffocating his lungs.

“W-Wow. Okay.” He chokes awkwardly, cheeks flushing. His skin tingles under his jumpsuit, “Wow. That’s cool. Literally cool.”

“Peter?”

“Mmmmmmhmmm?” He hums, slouching his shoulders. Peter shamelessly relaxes under your wintry touch.

“You’re suffering in this heat, aren’t you? You need me to help you out?”

Stupidly, like a colossal, doofus dumbass, he shakes his head. You’re offering the exact thing Peter came to you for. A golden opportunity. He’s really hit the jackpot now. All he has to do is face the music, and admit it. Just be honest. Say it, doofus!

“Huh? Naaahhhh! Pffft …why would-...hey, I told ya! I’m juuuust peachy, Screwball! Don’t gotta worry about me!”

Hanging in the air by a delicate string, is a tension Peter’s too stunned to identify. Taking another step closer, the swell of your breasts meets his chest. The hand you’ve placed over his speedy heart trails tantalizingly slow, up to Peter’s flushed cheek. His dark eyes flutter closed, and he almost falls face first into your touch.

“I can take care of you, y'know? I really don’t mind, honey. It wouldn’t be an issue.” Your soft voice exudes genuine compassion. The sweet, gentle attention burns his skin to a boiling point, his veins melting underneath.

That unidentifiable tension in the air permeates, thicker than summertime heat. Despite the relieving cold you’ve given him to bask in; Peter finds it even more difficult to breathe. It confuses him, the way you act so nice and considerate. And now? He’s melting entirely.

Literally. No dramatizations. Peter can feel his damp skin drooping slowly off his bones.

He’s already close enough to death as is. What’s with the tenderness and affection, huh? Were you going out of your way to make sure he dies faster? Have some humanity, for Geddy’s sake. Jeez.

“I-uh…I…” Peter stutters, at a loss for words, “I wouldn’t wanna put you out like that, but…uh…”

“Alright. Whatever you say.” You steadily pull your hand from Peter’s face, “Offer’s still on the table, though!”

Wait. Wait. Wait. Why are you pulling away? No, no, no! You can’t pull away! Not yet! Come on!

All at once, the soothing cold you’ve gifted Peter disappears. No thanks to the steaming fever brought upon by his overheated, speedster body. He nearly whines at the loss, pulling his lip between his teeth to stifle any embarrassing noises.

It takes Peter only a millisecond to give in. With a slower reaction time than usual – not really all that slow, from an outside perspective – he darts his hand out in a flash. Peter lightly grabs your wrist, stopping you from retracting your hand any further.

“Wait-” Peter groans, acting hasty. Frustrated with his own awkwardness, he rolls his eyes, “...I’m…I’m literally dyin’ here, okay? Like, no joke. I think my heart might actually explode. And I…kinda can’t breathe right now? So, uhm…can you just, like, touch me? Just a little bit? But not-” He panics suddenly, eyes widening, “N-Not like-...not in a weird way, I swear!”

He almost tacks on a suggestive ‘unless you really want to,’ but decides against it. Better not, lest he dig himself into a deeper hole. So far under the Earth’s surface, he’ll come out the other side. Not a bad idea, actually. Maybe it’s cooler over there.

“And I’ll totally make it up to you. I promise. Pinky swear. Cross my heart, hope I don’t die of heat stroke.” He insists.

You giggle again, cute as can be. It’s not the least bit condescending either, thankfully. Peter feels the weight of a billion megatons finally lift off his shoulders. With a nod, you take his hand in yours. A surprisingly intimate gesture, since the two of you have never done anything quite like this before. Hell, you’ve never spent time with each other one-on-one outside of the X-Men.

“C’mon, you silly goose.” You lightheartedly joke.

Your affection catches Peter off guard. Not that he’s got a problem with it. No siree. In fact, his heart might’ve skipped a few beats. A lazy smile plays at his lips, as you guide Peter down the hall to your room in your usual, slow stride.

Oh, sweet, frosty sanctuary calls.

As soon as Peter steps inside, you quickly close the door behind you. Feeling somewhat out of place in the unfamiliarity of your space, Peter distracts himself with the posters on your walls. He casts quick glances over the silly knick-knacks occupying your desk and dressers. Turns out, your room has a lot of personality. Neat.

He overhears a faint click suddenly. Whipping around to find you locking the door, Peter narrows his eyes in thought.

Huh.

Maybe he’s overthinking. Probably. But doesn’t locking the door like that suggest some…implications? Then again, Peter could be looking at this in all the wrong ways. Like, okay, if he were being realistic? More than likely, you didn’t wanna risk someone walking in. Not while you got handsy with one of your teammates in your room. Totally reasonable, he thinks.

But then-

Leaning your back against the door, you steadily unzip your glittering suit. Pulling the tiny, snowflake zipper down just enough to expose the swell of – Oh, hellllloooooooooo snowy cleavage. Where in the world have you been all his life? Peter has to refrain from whistling.

Okay. You totally did that on purpose, didn’t you? That was completely intentional. And Peter’s definitely not reading too far into things. He’s most unequivocally not letting his attraction to you affect his perception of a simple gesture. Not at all.

He can’t control his lingering gaze. Peter’s droopy eyes follow the slow movement of your hand, his mouth falling agape in a heat-exhausted stupor. Somewhere around him, he can barely make out your voice. But it’s muffled. All noise. Akin to a teacher from a Peanuts cartoon. Bwah Bwah Bwah Bwah.

Peter blinks.

“Huh? Sorry…you say somethin’?” It’s a failed attempt at a recovery. Peter taps his temple, “Gotta couple screws loose in here right now. Y’know, heat’s kinda gettin’ to me.”

You arch a brow, gazing at Peter like you see right through his bullshit. And yeah, he’s gonna go ahead and bet you probably do.

“Uh huh?” You scoff, giggling, “I asked if you’d be more comfortable on the bed, doofus.”

Moving closer to your bed, you bend over to adjust the fuckload of plushies resting on the blankets. Wow. Check that out. It’s like a Toys R Us threw up. A colorful mess of too many plushies for Peter to count. There’s barely any space to lie down, even if he wanted to.

Doing a quick double take, he glances between you, and your occupied bed. Peter sways where he stands, light headed from heat exhaustion. His brows shoot up in unexpected surprise. He whistles through a suggestive grin.

“Waiiiit, seriously?” Peter huffs a charming laugh, “Wow. Didn’t peg you for the direct type, Screwball. Y’wanna take me out to dinner and a movie first?”

“Dinner and a movie? I dunno, Peter. You’re askin’ for a lot.” You giggle again, acting nonchalant. You make your way around the room to a record player on a corner shelf. Neatly organized vinyls are aligned meticulously next to it. As you poke through your collection, you continue, “But sure. Fuck it, right? Why not! What movie?”

Distracted, as he usually is, Peter glances curiously around your room. Framed photos, postcards, and letters adorn your walls. Pinned carefully in place. Some of the photos, he suspects, are of your family. Others, more than likely friends. There’s even a few group photos of the X-Men together, bringing a fond smile to his face.

Bwah bwah bwah bwah?

Wait. Shit. You’re talking again. And Peter totally missed whatever you said.

“Huh?” Peter darts his head in your direction, watching with half lidded eyes as you set up the record player.

“Dude.” You roll your eyes affectionately, chuckling, “I said, is it hot in here, by the way? Just wondering. Since I can’t really tell.”

“Oh-” Peter exaggerates a sigh, “It’s really bad, babe. Like, sooo bad. I’m definitely gonna die if you don’t come over here and put those icebox hands on me, like, right now. Seriously.” He snickers, falling limply backwards into your bed.

Several plushies bounce with the impact of his weight. Some tumble onto the floor. Others topple onto Peter himself, but he leaves them be. He clutches a Beatles Blue Meanie plush to his chest. Breathing in quick, muggy breaths. Peter finds he’s even more consumed by the record-breaking heat. It’s a miracle he hasn’t disintegrated into a pile of ash by now.

“Howard the Duck.” Peter adds, staring at the ceiling in cloudy thought. He twirls the Blue Meanie in his hands.

“Pffft…what?” You laugh, “What are you even-”

“That’s the movie I wanna see. When you take me out? I wanna watch Howard the Duck. Oh! And I want popcorn too. Can’t watch a movie without popcorn. But it’s gotta be one of the big ones. With extra butter. And some candy-”

“ When I take you out. C’mon, really? Dude, didn’t critics totally pan that movie? I swear, I saw that in the paper just recently! It’s such an awful movie, Peter!”

“Uh, yeah? And so what? That’s kinda what makes it the ultimate date move, babe. Check it out – we could have the most awesome time makin’ fun of it.” Peter throws his head back further into your bed, peering at you from upside down, “Ooooh! Did you hear about the duck boobs scene? No joke. I kid you not. It’s got duck titties.”

A mellow tune slowly encompasses the quiet, muggy space of your room. Peter instantly recognizes it from the first few beats alone. Obscured by Clouds. Pink Floyd. …Cool. Peter’s pretty fond of that album himself. It’s not necessarily his favorite, per se. But it’s awesome enough. And it’s perfectly fitting for the mood of sweltering, summertime vibes too, he thinks.

“I didn’t until now.” You sarcastically scoff. Meandering towards Peter on your bed, “Spoilers, dude.”

He brings his head up to look at you. Spreading himself out, Peter knocks more of your poor plushies to the floor. Carelessly, he drops the Blue Meanie plush. Letting him fall to his ultimate demise. Au revoir, his blueness.

“Right. My bad.” He snickers. After a beat, Peter adds, “I love this album, by the way. It’s a nice vibe.”

In your eyes, he must look a lot like a beached starfish. Sprawled out and helpless. Drying to death in the heat of the summertime sun. Peter has his long legs hanging loosely off the edge of your bed. Moving in between those spread legs, you carefully climb onto the bed. Your knee stops just short of his crotch. As you inch yourself further over his body, Peter’s eyes widen. He blinks slowly, feeling hot beads of sweat roll down his temples.

“I know you do.” You grin down at him with a warm gaze. Peter’s lungs threaten to shrink into nothingness.

“Y-You do? Huh…no shit?” He appears put off, raising a silver brow, “How’d you know?”

You shrug, keeping your grin, “Guess I pay more attention to you than you think, hmm?” Perched over Peter with a palm to the sheets, you brush the silver bangs out of his eyes, “You got any limits?”

Peter blinks again, dumbfounded.

“Lim-...uh, what now?”

“Limits, y’know. Like, where am I free to touch? Anything you’re not comfortable with?”

“Oh. Uh…you can…touch me anywhere? It’s whatever yer comfortable with. Yer the one doin’ me a favor here.” he gazes at you with an unsure, sleepy eyed look. Nervously nibbling his lip, tasting the salt of his sweat, “Do you-uh…do you do this kinda thing a lot? Fer…other people?”

“Nope.” You blink down at him with that genuine, sweet smile again. Shrugging, “Just you.”

A subtle aura of addictive cold radiates from your body like a light. Peter can feel the faintest hint of it as you move in close. It teases him, promising sweet relief from the merciless summer heat. With his lips parted, Peter stares longingly into your eyes. His smile reveals a glimpse of his front teeth, as he snickers in disbelief.

“Uh huh. Alright. See, now I know fer sure yer just messin’ with me.” He bashfully laughs.

“Not yet I’m not.” You throw him a coy wink. Innocently, you ask, “Where do you want me?”

Which could so easily be misconstrued. Dammit.

Yeah. So, this one’s definitely on him. Peter’s inexperienced, sexually charged instincts immediately jump somewhere totally depraved. He’s a little ashamed of that fact. But hey, who’s the one climbing over him on their bed? Who’s the one fluttering those pretty lashes? Giving him those flirtatious smiles. Come on. Really? No wonder he’s lost his mind in the gutter.

Where do you want me?

Peter’s dark eyes immediately dart to his crotch for less than a second. But it happens so fast, he doesn’t doubt you missed it.

“Uhhhhh…I dunno. I didn’t…I didn’t really think about it? But, you cou- HHHHHHhnnnnnnnaaaaaaa-”

Frigid cold invades the exposed skin of Peter’s neck, as you press your hand gently there. A tiny thumb brushes his adam’s apple. Shivering, Peter bunches his shoulders. Tingling chills surge across his body.

“That’s good. That’s g-great. Awesome. Totally awesome. Thanks. Thank you.” He chokes in a rush, instantly melting into your icy touch.

Relaxing his body in your bed, Peter’s head falls loosely back. He breathes a long sigh of relief, his mouth falling open in a dopey smile. His eyes flutter closed as he laughs. Steadily then, your hand travels lower. Grazing frosty fingertips over his chest. Your fingers soon find the zipper of his jumpsuit, and you tug it down a little further.

That heavy tension from earlier grows a thousand times more distracting. For whatever reason, the mellow melody of Pink Floyd’s ‘When You’re In’ only seems to heighten said tension. Almost like it’s setting a certain kinda…steamy mood.

Did Peter wake up in some cheesy, VHS porno? He’s definitely living the plot of one.

Peter flutters his eyes open, met with the sight of you on your knees over him. Your gaze appearing heavy, focused intently on your task. You nibble your lip in thought, looking fine as hell while doing so. Pressing your small palm to his chest, you finally grace him with glorious cold again. Right over the sweaty abomination for a shirt he wore under his jumpsuit. He’s almost embarrassed that you’re even touching it.

Using your glacial gift, you manifest more coolness. Allowing it to spread all over Peter’s body. He sucks in a harsh breath, freeing his lungs from their heated asphyxiation.

There it is. Sweet, icy sanctuary, at long last.

“Ohhhhhhhh …” Peter groans, “Nice.”

His adam’s apple bobs in his throat, his veins straining under his skin. Digging your nails firmly into his chest, you manifest snowy trails of glittering frost. The biting cold nips at his skin over the fabric of his shirt. Like walking chest first into an arctic glacier.

“Is this helping you much at all?” You ask, barely above a whisper.

“You have nooooooooo idea, babe.” Peter breathes a grateful sigh, “This is, like, so amazing. Thanks. I owe ya one.”

“Nah. Don’t worry about it.”

Your freezing hand meets Peter’s sweaty forehead, pressing into his skin. Like you’re checking his temperature with the gentleness of a mother’s touch. Humming to the music, you card your cold fingers through his damp locks. Firmly massaging Peter’s scalp.

Peter lets his eyes drift shut again. His mouth falling open out of his control. Leaving his hair, you bring your attention back to his body. Watching him carefully for any sign to stop, you tug the wet, frost nipped fabric of his shirt. Bunching it up over his neck, exposing his broad chest.

He shoots an eye open, fixing you with a curious look. Feeling hot skin under your soft palms, you slide your hands over his raised pecs. Your fingers gliding in a touch as delicate as powdered snow. It sends sharp chills down his spine. A sensation he’s quickly finding extremely addictive and all too pleasant.

Instantaneously, something clicks in Peter’s brain.

A beat, and your touch goes from relieving, to downright pleasurable. Even sort of…arousing. Peter immediately reacts, arching his back in an abrupt jolt. He laughs his surprise through a broken moan, tossing his head back for the umpteenth time.

“O-Oh, fuck.” He chokes, loud enough to disturb whoever occupies the room next door.

Peter’s so righteously fucked now. Because he really shouldn’t be as turned on by this as he is. It’s just…he’s so boiling hot. Miserable as hell. And not only are you finally breaking him free of hellfire’s tyranny. But you’re also touching him sorta intimately. Peter’s really not immune to attention like this. Especially not from a stone fox he’s super attracted to.

His nipples harden under your frigid spell, perky against the tips of your fingers. Peter hisses, whimpering another moan without meaning to. Your only response is to giggle. Curiously, you tilt your head. Quickly taking notice of the way Peter’s noises have changed in pitch.

They’re more like moans of ecstasy now. Because, well, they sorta are. Whoops.

Lowering your hips, you suddenly move to rest on Peter’s lap. Just to give your knees some much needed rest. His hammering heart threatens to burst straight through his ribcage. Rising from the bed onto his elbows, Peter tries to protest.

“Wait! Wait, don’t sit- hoooohhhh.” A throaty groan slips off his tongue.

The full weight of your lower half drops onto his lap. Right over the stiff hard-on in his jumpsuit, doing little to hide itself. Your ass is so outrageously cold against his crotch and… oh, fuck. That’s so perfect. Peter groans again through a shuddering breath. Limply, he lowers himself onto his back. Hoping to conceal his shame, he brings his hands to his face.

Except, there’s no denying his obvious desire anymore.

“Auuuuugh.” Peter curses himself, “Shit. I am seriously so, so sorry-” Your name plays on his tongue in a desperate, apologetic tone, “I-I really…I dunno why I’m so-uh…I’m not usually-”

“Hey, don’t worry! It’s okay. Believe me, I don’t mind…”

Gosh. There you go again, doing that thing. The thing where you act so unexpectedly understanding in the face of an awkward situation. But even then, Peter can hear your smooth voice waver. Despite all you try to hide, he can tell. You’re just as nervous as he is, but ultimately better at masking it.

He doesn’t see it, but you gaze down at him rather suggestively. A fresh, newfound sense of lust lingers in your eyes. Raking your nails teasingly down his chest, you draw numbing streaks of snow, making him wince. The frost manifests seamlessly from your fingers, tickling Peter’s ever burning skin. It melts instantly, leaving beaded droplets.

“Does it really feel good when I touch you like this, pretty boy?” You tease, that waver in your voice barely leaking through again.

Wooooah. Okay. Okay. Hold up. Rewind. What?

Peter isn’t hearing you wrong this time. He couldn’t be. It’s impossible to misread the dirty tease in your tone. In the blink of an eye – rapid fire speed – the blood pooling in his cheeks vacates straight to his dick. Peter’s cock twitches, pulsating under his jumpsuit – under you – and shamefully unveiling just how horny he really is.

The high-speed boom boom boom of Peter’s heart skids to a deafening halt. His exhausted lungs finally collapse. Squeezing out his final remnants of life. If someone were to hook him up to an EKG, he surely would’ve flat-lined. Sayonara, suckers. This foolhardy speedster’s at the end of his road.

But…what’s this?! Peter’s still alive and breathing? Who could’ve predicted such a phenomenon??

He lowers his hands from his flushed face, peering over the tips of his fingers. His black coffee eyes blown exceptionally wide.

“Woah. Hold on now. What?” Peter snorts. He shakes himself free of total shock, frantically nodding, “Uh, yeah? It feels…really fuckin’ awesome, to tell you the truth.”

“Mhm?” You hum a sensual vibration, biting your lip, “Mind if I try something bold then?”

Peter arches a curious brow. You’re kind of a little minx, aren’t you?

“Literally? You can do whatever you want with me, babe. I’m all yours.” He heaves an exasperated laugh.

A smirk dawns your pretty lips, and you shimmy backwards over Peter’s lap. Until the bulging swell of his hardness lies before you, squirming under his jumpsuit. Teasing him, you drag your biting touch down to his crotch. Euphoric cold dances across his pelvis. You stop short of his hard-on, and Peter draws in a ragged breath.

“Awww…feelin’ a little stiff, sweetheart?” You coo in a sultry sound. Peter feels his blood pressure drop to a life-threatening degree, “Let me help you out.”

Testing the metaphorical, frozen waters; you bring your frigid palm over his bulge. You watch Peter for any sign to retract your hand, fixing him with an intense look. But to your surprise, his cock doesn’t soften under your frosty touch. Not like one would expect. Oh, no. The opposite happens, in fact.

“Mmmmhh…oh my god.” He moans, his front teeth clamping hard into his lip. Jolting in response to his own sensitivity, he rolls his hips into your small hand, “Please…”

You squeeze the thick length of him as well as you can over his jumpsuit, applying more pressure. Awkwardly stroking his dick with your wintry tipped fingers. The bleak touch you cast sends chills racing through Peter’s veins, and sharp pleasure rises in his groin.

“F-Fer the record, by the way, this is not how I expected this to go.” Peter shivers, breathlessly chuckling.

“Oh, no?” You mutter, climbing over Peter on your knees. Glacial breath ghosts his lips. You lean in close, giving his cock another firm squeeze, “Hope you’re not too disappointed.”

“Fuuuuuuck no, baby. Not a chance.” Peter groans his reply, lifting his hips. Yearning for more of your gratifying chill. Another wintry wave of cold seizes through his groin, and Peter’s eyes roll back, “Holy shit. That’s it.”

Peter finds himself a little conflicted. His brown hues can’t decide if they wanna gaze into your own, or stare longingly at your lips. In the past, Peter thought about those same lips more often than he’d admit. But to be so up close and personal with them like this…

“I’m not even gonna lie to you, Screwball. I really wanna kiss you right now.” Peter admits defeat. Even in your polar proximity, humiliation burns his cheeks with the force of hellfire.

Knitting your brows, you narrow your eyes. And for a painfully long instant, Peter thinks he’s finally fucked up. As if confessing his desire to kiss you was somehow a step too far over the line.

Is there even a line left between the two of you anymore? Or did you both trip over it the moment you gave him ‘fuck me’ eyes?

You lean in a touch closer, quietly chuckling. Cold puffs of air fan over his lips, a needle-thin space away.

“You’re so silly, y’know that? Why do you keep callin’ me Screwball?” You ask, placing a tantalizing kiss to the corner of his lips. Like the touch of a delicate snowflake, “You make it sound like you think I’m crazy.”

“Well, okay, first of all, you gotta be some kinda crazy. ‘Specially if yer screwin’ around with me.” Peter jokes. He’s beyond winded under the teasing brush of your soft lips, “S-Second of all, it’s an ice cream thing. You ever-uhm…stop by an ice cream truck before?”

Why’s he even doing this? Making casual conversation like it’s a date at the diner. Peter half expects you to pull away. Since this is the least sexiest thing he could be doing. Amazingly, you remain where you are. Trailing kisses across Peter’s cheek, down to his ear. Leaving feather-light sparkles of frost in your wake. Still, they melt within seconds.

“Yeah. Of course I have. So?” You mumble.

He tenses as goosebumps descend down his neck. The tight grip you have on his dick doesn’t let up. Any words Peter planned on saying seem completely lost on him now.

“Uhhhh…Screwball’s the little…it’s got the-uh…gumballs at the bottom. It’s, like, a cone-”

Righteous work, casanova.

“Right. And I’m Screwball because…?”

Damn you, little minx! You know why. The answer’s totally obvious. There’s no way you’re that dense. Nah. You’re just so set on teasing Peter, tempting him to nervously ramble. Like you find his embarrassment…humorous or whatever. Pfffbbtt …

“You messin’ with me? It’s ‘cuz it’s ice cream, yeah? No duh. And ice is, like, yer thing, babe. I dunno. It made more sense in my head.” Peter laughs in spite of himself, “Listen…can I please kiss you? Before I make even more of an ass outta myself?”

In this position, Peter can’t kiss you. Even though it’s all he can think about. You’re too busy mouthing at his neck, grazing his skin with your teeth. Fondling his cock in freezing strokes, making him whine under his breath.

Up until this very moment, Peter’s hands remained mostly still. He’d dig his fingernails into your blankets, as the pleasure of freezer burn simmered in his pelvis. But he held himself back from ever really touching you. Since this little interaction wasn’t supposed to end up like this to begin with.

But now? Well…shit.

You knead at his junk like you’re making biscuits, flicking your icy tongue across the skin of his neck. Eliciting another husky whine from deep in his throat. Peter’s pretty sure, judging by your forwardness; you wouldn’t mind so much if he touched you just a little, right? Like, you totally wouldn’t protest if he brought his large hand to the back of your head, would you?

He threads his fingers through your soft hair, tugging your head back gently. Pulling you from his neck, just so he can meet your wanton eyes again. There’s a single second of hesitation, as both of Peter’s hands claim your cheeks. That second seems to stretch for what feels like an hour, while Peter memorizes the features of your face. His racing, speedster heart leaps at the sight.

He swiftly pulls you down for a kiss. It’s clumsy as all get out. Initially, anyway. But if there’s one thing he can actually pride himself on? At the very least, he’s had a lot of experience with canoodling. Kissing you comes as naturally to Peter as running does. His skillful lips and tongue guide yours effortlessly. Coercing you into a heated makeout session. Against his own, your lips are frosty cold. Like drinking crisp water straight from a chilled glass.

Or…it’s more like he’s lapping his tongue across some kind of…slushy ice cream. Like…a Screwball cone, maybe?

No?

Fuck it. Whatever. The only difference is, you don’t taste anything like cherry. You taste like you. And Peter would argue that’s almost better. Almost. Cherry’s pretty hard to beat. It’s a tough competition.

As you fall victim to his bitchin’ makeout skills, Peter indulges himself. He touches you the way he’s dreamed since forever and a day. His hands glide thick fingers down your chilly body. Feeling every glittering facet of your suit under his fingertips. Meeting the curves of your hips, he squeezes them firmly.

“Mmmmm…this is awesome.” Peter breathes, “This is really fuckin’ awesome.” He hums into your lips, stifling a moan by kissing you again. You stroke his clothed cock a little faster, and he chokes, “O-Oh…yer so awesome. Fuck.”

“You’re really awesome yourself. But I’ve always thought that about you.” You titter, nuzzling his nose so tenderly, “The others on the team? Yeah. They’re alright. But you? Peter, you’re the coolest.” You admit with a bashful smile. After locking him in one more, passionate smooch, you pull away, “Sexy too.”

“W-Wait, really? Are you bein’ serious right now?” Peter asks, stupefied. He furrows his brows. Another beat, and he forces himself to smirk proudly, “I-I mean…well, yeah. Pssshh …of course. Why wouldn’t you think that? I’m the bomb, baby.”

Peter keeps his hands on your hips, feeling your ravishing curves. Stroking them with his thumbs. They fit so perfectly in his grasp. And Goddamn, Peter doesn’t ever wanna let go. Mark his words. Right here, right now. He’ll glue his hands to you forever if he has to.

Lowering your ass over his crotch, you keep your erotic gaze focused on his. Your intense eye contact never seems to break for even a moment. Pressing into the exposed, damp skin of his chest, you brace your freezing hands over Peter’s pecs. A filthy moan teases your lips, as you roll your gorgeous hips forward and back. Grinding into his needy bulge.

Oh.

This is happening now. Fuck yeah.

Peter squirms in place, tightening his hold on your hips. His nails tear at the tiny sequins of your jumpsuit, digging into the sparkling material. It’s such a needlessly skin tight thing, for fuck’s sake. Criminally skin tight, even. How did Xavier ever greenlight that? Peter can see the tempting outline of your pussy in it, deliciously rolling into his clothed cock. His mouth waters at the sight. Lifting his hips off the bed, he meets your slow thrusts.

“Ohhhhh. Oh, what the fuck-” He moans an octave louder.

A strangled sound catches in his throat, and you’re quick to shush him the moment it frees itself.

“Pietro, honey, you gotta be quiet, okay?”

Hushed moans pour from your parted lips as you speak his given name. Peter’s completely bushwhacked at the mention of it. Since no one ever – excluding his mom, in her more frustrated moods – uses that name. A tickling flutter erupts with a burst in his belly. He almost creams himself at the sound of that name in your voice.

“Come on. Be good for me. You can be good for me. Can’t you, baby?” You plead. Moving your hips in a painfully slow, steady rhythm.

“Fuuuuuuuck. Babe, please-” Peter begs, “Faster? Faster, please. Yer killin’ me."

Your sharp nails sink into his bare chest, manifesting more glassy shards of frost. Winter cold seizes Peter’s body entirely, infecting him with frostbite’s kiss. Peter knits his brows tightly, his dark eyes mesmerized with your every movement. The freezing solace permeating from your pussy proves a little too overwhelming. As sharp, pinpricks of cold rush through his veins; it all morphs into carnal heat.

His muscles quickly tighten, every inch of him tensing in an instant.

“Wait wait wait! Fuck!” Peter whimpers in desperation, a flurry of moans erupting from his throat. His rock hard cock twitches, pulsating under you as he cums. Leaking thick streams of his seed into his boxers and jumpsuit, “F-Fuck! I’m sorry, baby! Ohhhhh god! I’m so sorry.”

As far as Peter knows, you have no clue he’s a virgin. Until now, he was content with that. He hadn’t planned on announcing it anytime soon. In hindsight, it’s pretty fucking embarrassing how easily he comes undone. All from a little dry humping, no less.

Yeah. You’re bound to figure it out sooner or later. Yikes.

Sticky, white pearls of his cum seep through his jumpsuit, staining the material. Your erotic motions slow to a stop, once you notice the streaks sticking to your clothed cunt. Tilting your head, you raise a brow. A delicate blush swarms your neck and ears, as you stare down at Peter with genuine surprise. He tilts his head back shamefully, sighing.

“D-Did you just-” You hesitate to continue. Wintry fingertips trace over his bare chest, “Damn, Quickie, that was fast.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I know.” Peter sighs again, bringing his fingertips to the bridge of his nose, “Dammit.”

He squeezes his eyes shut tight, feeling blistering warmth rapidly return. Taunting him with the promise of death by suffocation all over again. Before he finally succumbs to it, you crawl over him. Knees braced on either side of his body.

“I’m…god, I’m really fuckin’ sorry about that.” Peter awkwardly stammers, “I-I just…fuck! Yer just so-”

You shush him, chuckling, “Don’t apologize, sweetheart. That was so, sooooooo hot. Really hot, if I’m being honest.”

By virtue of his blessed genes, Peter takes very little time to recover. And hell, you make it an impossible feat not to chub up all over again. Your arctic tongue intertwines with his hotter one, as you meet him in another sloppy kiss. Cold hands grasp his cheeks, quickly sliding through his hair. Dragging your nails across Peter’s scalp, you kiss him with more urgency.

Peter sneaks his hands to your juicy ass, warm palms feeling at your plush booty cheeks. He gives one of them a light, playful smack. Drawing out a squeak from you, Peter giggles into your mouthy kisses. He’s distracted enough, he almost doesn’t notice you tugging the zipper of his jumpsuit.

“C’mon, get this thing off already.” You pull the zipper down even further, murmuring through frantic kisses, “Before you die of heat stroke in my bed.”

With a hmph , Peter nods his head, “Hey, if it’s life ‘er death? Guess I’ve got no choice then, huh?” He replies, fabricating his confidence, “Just a sec.”

Peter sits up fully on your bed, his feet absentmindedly kicking a few plushies on the floor. You slide off the bed entirely. Stepping back to give Peter the space he needs. From your perspective, the removal of his sweaty jumpsuit takes less than a second. But from Peter’s own POV, it’s a thousand years before he finally pulls himself out of his clothes. Clumsily, he peels his sticky limbs free.

“Fuckin’ shit-” He curses, struggling to free one of his ankles once he’s done.

He hadn’t noticed it before, but a faint air of raw cold filters through the space of your room. With his body free of stifling clothing; Peter can finally embrace that coolness in full. It bites sharply at his skin, making him shudder. Peter inhales a slow, deep breath just to feel it all

“Oh, wow! It feels damn good in here, Screwball! Like, woahhh! I feel like I’ve been sweatin’ my balls off this whole time until now.” He says.

“That’s the most charming thing you’ve said all day.” You sarcastically chime. And he snorts.

Peter promptly rids himself of his sweat soaked shirt, aching to feel more frigid air on his skin. He tosses the drenched fabric to the floor. Left in his cum stained boxers, Peter shifts uncomfortably on your bed. Self consciously, he gazes at you with a doe eyed look. He twiddles his thumbs in his lap.

“Sooooooo…uh…a-are you gonna take off yer-uhm…” Peter gives you a once over, gesturing to your jumpsuit.

He lets his long, sturdy legs hang off the side of your bed. Watching as you take slow steps backwards, pulling that tiny, snowflake zipper of yours. Dragging it all the way down. A mischievous spark twinkles in your eye, and Peter’s heart skips a thousand beats. Even though you’re trying your best to be sexy, you’re still just as clumsy as he was.

Which somehow, ultimately makes you even sexier to him.

You peel your limbs out of your glittering jumpsuit. Revealing the underwear beneath, fitting your body in all the right ways. Peter’s adam’s apple bobs, his eyes flitting up and down your curvaceous form. Drinking in the image of you almost completely bare.

“Holy shit.” Peter mumbles, leaning back and bracing his hands on your bed.

You’re giggling again. Blessing his ears with a precious sound he’s grown to adore over the last…however long it’s been since you invited him in. Peter can’t really remember. It’s impossible to hold any sense of rational thought while watching you like this. Especially when you pull off everything except your little, lace panties. Freeing your-

Whoaaaaaaa, mama.

There they are. In all their beautiful, freezing glory. Your icy cold knockers bounce freely. And with a flawlessly executed jiggle, too. If Peter had a sign, he'd rate them a perfect ten.

The skin of your breasts is heavenly soft, dusted in a faint motif of frosty snowflakes. Nipples perky.

Peter's wondered about those suckers for ages. And you most definitely don't disappoint. He whistles, his eyes flying open. Black pupils dilating like drops of heavy ink. No matter how hard he tries, he can't tear his gaze away from those bouncy beauties.

"Damn, Screwball…" Peter grins, shaking his head, "Yer a smokeshow, babe."

Subconsciously, he palms his hardening dick over his boxer briefs. Momentarily grimacing at the texture of drying cum in the fabric. His focused gaze lingers a little too long on your totally righteous titties. You're talking again. Speaking words in that sweet voice, though they go unheard.

Bwah bwah bwah bwah!

You must have given up on trying. He barely sees you coming, as you collide your lips with his again. Shocking him out of his boob-induced daze. The moment you're in close enough range, he reaches out to touch you. Burning hot palms fondle your breasts, fingers toying with your nipples. Furrowing your brows, you squeal into his mouth.

"Your hands-" You whine, "Your hands are so hot. It's like you're on fire." And Peter chuckles a heated breath in response.

"See? And that's why we're here. Gotta beat the heat somehow, eh?" He says, his hands playing with your frosty titties. Silken and cold on his skin.

Sinking to the floor, you lower yourself onto your knees. Peter knows without an ounce of doubt; your poor knees have to be aching like hell right about now. Yet, you persist. He scoots a little further at the edge of your bed, allowing you to ease yourself between his spread legs. With one less layer of clothing in the way of your touch, the coolness feels even more crisp and harsh over his cock.

“God, you’re so pretty…” He mumbles.

Peter stares down at you in awe, curling his fingers into the sheets. Biting your lip with an impish grin, you ease his boxers off completely. As your glimmering eyes meet the full length of his cock, you're instantly enamored. His dick, colored a scarlet hue and pulsing with thick veins, bounces over a silver bush of hair.

You haven't even touched him directly yet. But Peter can already feel that freezing aura easing in close. Swiping your tongue across your plush lips, you gaze at Peter's dick like your hunger hasn't been satiated in weeks.

No words are spoken between you both. As one of your hands treads carefully. Barely touching his thickness with your fingers. You stroke him in slow, but firm motions at first. Peter arches his back in shock, the cold like electricity rushing through his veins. Arctic temperatures rapidly pump his body full of adrenaline.

Maybe that’s why he’s so into this. Being a speedster, he’s always been addicted to the rush of exhilaration.

“Ohhh my god, oh my god, oh my god.” Peter moans.

Your strokes slide up to the swollen, purple-ish head of his cock. Squeezing tightly. But the tip is too outrageously sensitive. A simple, icy cold tug of it gets Peter practically seizing. White light flashes through his vision. And just like that, he’s going totally mental. He jumps with an abrupt jerk, his body vibrating.

Peter whimpers in quick gasps, “Ah! N-Not the tip, baby! Not the tip!”

You make a quick retreat, sliding your hand down to the thick base of his length. Pumping his vascular cock in a frosty fist. He can feel his blood vessels constricting with every motion. Cold creeps under his skin, bringing with it a burning sensation. Peter’s groin tightens, and his moans turn to pleading whimpers.

With a cheshire grin, you flutter your lashes over a naughty gaze. Leaning forward, you tease the smooth length of his cock with your lips. Kitten licking a vein with the tip of your tongue.

“W-Wait! Hold on, Screwball! Fuck-” One of Peter’s hands finds your head, clutching strands of your hair between his fingers, “It’s too much, baby! I can’t-”

A long, chilling swipe of your tongue brings momentary crystals of ice. Igniting the burn along his skin. Peter never thought himself a masochist. But this freaky, frosty jerk-off session has somehow completely rewired his brain chemistry. Pain never felt so good.

In all your wickedness, little minx, you refuse to heed Peter’s warning. Your mouth engulfs the scorching heat of his cock. Surrounding him in a crisp, cold shroud. Bringing upon him a vengeance of the bleakest kind. Like a frostbitten hug, sending shockwaves of pleasure fluttering through his bones. Peter’s breathing quickens.

“Ah! FUCK! Gonna fuckin-...I’m fuckin’ cumming, baby! Sorry, sorry, sorr-” He falters over broken whines.

Acting on impulse like the total spaz he is, Peter panics. Tugging your head from his cock so he doesn’t bust a load in your mouth. He lags a few seconds behind. Late again, as per usual.

Peter accidentally showers your precious lips in his cum. Painting your face in hot, messy strands of it. He writhes in place, sluggishly rocking his hips forward. The spurting tip of his dick kisses your lips, the length bouncing with every eruption of thick, sticky heat.

For a second time in a row, he’s blown his load prematurely. Impressive, in a really lame way. But, hey, even if Peter feels a little bad for glossing you in his cum. He’s gotta admit, you look drop dead gorgeous like this.

Peter quickly snaps out of his post-nut daze, his eyes dancing across your decorated face.

Ah. Actually, now that he’s thinking somewhat clearly again…it’s a little gross. He fumbles over an onslaught of apologies. Reaching to the floor for his discarded shirt without thinking, he wipes your face clean of his nut.

Wait. Fuck. Why’d he use his shirt? Shit. Get it together, Quickie!

As always, you’re just as chill about this as you have been everything else, “That wasn’t so bad. But thanks. Sorry about your shirt, though.” You giggle. But all Peter does is shamefully laugh in response.

You’re perceptive enough to catch onto his sudden hesitance. He tenses, avoiding your pretty eyes. Bouncing a nervous leg at the speed of a rabbit’s kicks. Twice now, you’ve seen him finish way too early. And though he knows in his heart you wouldn’t judge him for his lack of experience; a small part of him fears the worst.

He really likes you, actually. It’d hurt like hell if you thought less of him over something so trivial.

“You okay there, sweetheart?” You ask. Playful, but still concerned.

Peter’s heart aches in the presence of your gentle nature. Swallowing his pride, he opts to confess. And if you think him pathetic for being a thirty year old virgin? Fuck it. He’s betting Hank’s mini fridge is still vacant.

You’re resting on your knees in between his legs, tracing feather-light, frosty patterns into his thigh. Peter’s skin swiftly erupts in goosebumps again, his body never accustomed to your arctic touch. Taking a deep breath, he drops his head forward.

“I…gotta be honest with ya about somethin’. I’ts-...” Peter cuts himself off with a sigh, burying his face in his hands, “I’m kind of…a virgin. Y’know, if you couldn’t already tell. I just…didn’t wanna say anything.”

“Pfffttt …” You puff in disbelief, like you’re assuming he’s messing with you. But Peter blinks, staring down into your eyes with a look that tells you he’s all business, “You’re serious? But, Peter, no offense? I’m really surprised! You always seemed like such a player. Like, you flirt with literally everyone.”

Peter stares at you in silence. He shakes his head, brows furrowed. A timid grin curling into his lips.

“I guess? I talk a big game, yeah. And I’ve made out with a lotta girls. Screwed around a few times. But…nah. I’ve never-uh…actually, really screwed. I dunno if the timing was never right or what, but…” He shrugs, feigning nonchalance. Despite fighting an internal war of crippling shame.

“Well, we’ll just have to remedy this then, won’t we?” Your hand rises to his chin, thumb tenderly stroking rough, silver stubble.

His eyes fly open, cheeks swarming a bright red. A beat, and Peter’s dick already twitches to life again at the prospect of your offer. However, despite his body’s insatiable desire, he waves his hands and shakes his head.

“N-No! No, babe! Listen, you don’t have to. I really wasn’t implyin’ anything when I said…uh…it’s just…I-I’ve never told anyone. That's all!”

“It’s fine! I said I would take care of you, didn’t I?”

He swallows, caught off guard by your choice of words. ‘Take care of you.’ His brows raise high, and the cartoonishly fast pounding of his heart returns. Fluttering in his chest, hiking up to sonic speed. Peter opens his mouth to protest, to remind you that you shouldn’t feel pressured into stealing his v-card.

But you’re already pushing yourself off the floor, climbing over Peter on your bed. With your icy hand to his chest, you guide him down onto his back. He gazes up at you with an uncertain, but lustful look in his dark eyes. In spite of the significantly cooler temperature of your room; Peter’s entire body breaks out in a humid sweat.

Okay. Calm down, man. Take a chill pill. Relax.

“You got any condoms?” You ask, blunt and up front.

So. This is really happening, huh? Yeah. Peter’s gonna lose his v-card to one of his teammates. No biggie. Screwing his fellow X-Man Screwball? Totally not a big deal.

Peter swallows dryly again, an awkward chuckle vibrating over his tongue.

“Not on me, no. I don’t really-uhhh…carry those around.” He makes a hasty move to sit up, “But I can run to the store really quick and grab some. Y’wanna snack ‘er a drink while I’m at it? I could really go fer somethin’ sweet like-”

Your frosty lips capture his in yet another, intimate kiss. For the sake of Peter’s inexperience, you take your time. Guiding Peter down onto his back once more. Working with tender consideration. When your tongue so lovingly swirls with his, he scowls. Tasting the lingering bitterness of his nut. He curls his lip.

“Euuuugh! Augh! Blegh! Is that really what I taste like? Eck! I’m so sorry, Screwball. I’ll try to spare ya next time. Eugh. That’s disgusting!” He rambles, overcompensating for his uneasy nerves again.

“Next time?” You raise your brows. Supple, wet lips smirking.

“Y-Yeah? Yeah…like… pfftt …if you want…” Peter shrugs, casual, blinking puppy dog eyes, “I dunno about you, but I’m havin’ a killer time fuckin’ around like this.” He adds, fingers toying with the hem of your panties.

Reaching for his cock, you take his length into your icy cold grip. Peter jolts again, cursing under his breath.

“I need to confess something too.” You say, bashful. Peter watches your facade of confidence diminish for a moment, “Would you still wanna do this if I told you I’m just as cold on the inside?”

“Woah…yeah. Listen, that is the opposite of a problem for me.” Peter reassures you, looking between your bodies, “Call me crazy? I’m really diggin’ the whole cold thing.”

He watches your fingers hook through the hem of your panties, sliding them down your smooth legs. It’s a bit awkward for you to get them off in this position. But eventually, you’re entirely exposed.

No more messing around. This is the real deal.

Wiggling your ass, you position your wintry cunt over his cock’s swollen head. Peter’s fingers tremble as they grab your ass for purchase. Holding you steady, he keeps his lidded gaze on your pussy. Entranced in the sight of your puffy lips lowering over his tip. Barely nudging it in, giving just a little tease of what’s to come. He shivers, muscles locking, shockwaves of glacial cold racing through his veins already.

“Ohhhhhhhh …wow…” He whines, teeth clamping his lip, “Please, ya gotta gimme more than that, baby.”

“Pietro, be patient.” You chastise him, fluttering your eyes closed.

Sighs and erotic moans of euphoria rise from the both of you in unison, just as his leaking tip dives through your cushiony walls. Peter shudders again, craning his neck back. Moaning a broken, strangled sound from deep in his chest. The tight, freezing sting of your cunt causes him to tense up. Peter digs his nails into the flesh of your ass, his lips parting for breath.

“Mmmmmfffuuck. You good? You okay?” You ask, little mewls bubbling in your throat.

Through frantic, wordless intakes of breath, Peter nods.

He’s never felt anything like this in all his thirty years of life. It’s a completely new sensation. The plushiest of pins and needles constricting tightly around his cock. Or the world’s softest pillow, pulled straight out of the freezer. Sex with you is the kind he could so easily become addicted to. If it was possible to stay connected this intimately forever, he’d do so in a heartbeat. No questions asked. Totally worth the searing pain of frostbite.

You take a few moments to adjust to the length and girth of him. It feels like centuries before you’re moving, but the wait is more than worth it. Your cunt weeps around his cock, swallowing him up completely in a frosty slickness. Peter chokes, his breath hitching. The pace you set is frustratingly slow, bouncing into his pelvis in steady slams of bush on silver bush.

“Fuck yeah. Just like that. More? C’mon gimme more, baby, please. Oh, please!” He whines, submissive and needy.

Sitting up a little straighter, you balance your cool hands on his chest. Peter’s skin is all raw and red, frostbitten from your previous teasing. It’s a little painful now, actually. Leaving a tingly burn. But the stinging pain registers as pleasure in Peter’s speedy brain.

Your pussy molds perfectly with the thick shape of him. Roughly shocking you with a surge of dull pain, Peter’s cock knocks straight into your squishy cervix. His expression contorts in overstimulation, his mouth falling open. He wets his lips with his tongue.

“That’s it. Fuckin’ ride me. Mmmmm yeah~” Peter moans, “Yer so fuckin’ cold. Shit-” His moans steadily trail off into whimpers.

“Should I stop? Is it too much?” You halt your movements for a second too long.

“Don’t you ever fuckin’ stop.” He groans, animalistic and ragged, “Ohhhh~ Please don’t stop.”

As you thrust your beautiful body into his lap, Peter follows your lead. Driving his hips against your ass with each bounce of contact. Overshadowing that sultry melody of Pink Floyd with the lewd smacking of skin on skin. Your cunt hugs his cock in a grip tight enough to induce more freezer burn. But it’s such an alluring feeling, he bites his lip almost hard enough to draw blood.

Peter’s brown-eyed gaze rakes down your body. Intoxicated with the way your titties bounce and your pussy sucks the ever-speeding soul out of him. He has to mentally-prep himself so he doesn’t cum too soon again. But the piercing cold compressing his dick sends thrilling pulses through his limbs. Erotic pleasure burns deep in his gut.

“Pietro!” You cry. Riding his dick and mewling soft kitten noises, you circle your little clit with your fingers, “Want me to cum on your cock, pretty boy? Wanna feel this tight, little pussy cum for you?”

Ohhhhh. You can’t do that to him. Dirty, little minx. He’s never heard such filthy words like that come out of your mouth. And the way you sound, how you look touching yourself on his cock; It all triggers a carnal instinct in the recesses of his mind.

Peter lifts his hips in a display of super strength, abusing your cervix repeatedly with his cock. Pounding your pussy so fast and hard. With a force deep and rough enough to make you see stars. A filthy squelch of a sound echoes from inside you.

“Oh my god-” Peter’s face contorts in needy desperation, brows creasing, “Please? Wanna feel you cum, baby. Need you to cum on my dick so bad.”

Sitting up on his elbows with his mouth hanging lazily open, Peter brings his fingers to his drooling tongue. His eyes are half lidded and cloudy, almost rolling back into his skull. He reaches out, the wet pads of his fingers meeting your cute bud. He buzzes his digits in a scorching vibration, knowing how sensitive you are to his heat. Easily coaxing you towards release.

“HOH! FUCK-” Peter’s eyes flutter in shock, “ Ohmyfuckingod that’s really fuckin’ tight. ”

His body tenses hard as stone. Feeling you clench around him while he fucks you so deep he thinks he’s reached your stomach. Within a few, measly seconds of teasing vibrations on your clit; you’re cumming. Coating his cock in a wave of crisp slickness. You tremble uncontrollably, tilting your head back and crying like a siren of the arctic seas. Singing a mantra of the name Pietro.

Peter grips your hips hard with both hands, sinking his blunt nails into your skin. Animalistic instinct overflows his mind as soon as he’s reached his own peak. Ecstasy tumbles over Peter in an overwhelming crash, much like an avalanche. And just as he’s pumping you impossibly full of hot, thick ropes of cum; something happens.

His release burns inside you, pooling in a milky heat. A stark contrast to the freezing temperature constantly flowing through your body. Your nails scratch red lines into his chest, manifesting glass crystals of frost. They burn like hell, and Peter hisses. One, final slap of your ass against his lap, and –

A ripple of explosive, winter cold rushes from your body in a flash. The bombastic wave coats your entire room in powdery snow and sheets of ice. Turning the small space into a glorified freezer. It even hits the record player, slowing the final tune of Obscured by Clouds to a creeping stop. Piercing cold fires through Peter’s lungs, and he chokes on it.

…D…Did that really just happen??

Glancing around frantically, he pushes himself up on your bed.

A soft, tingling blanket of snow drapes his body. Peter sputters, quickly brushing as much of it off as he can. You’re still sitting over his lap, his softening dick tucked safely between your pussy’s plush walls. With every puff of warm air from his lungs, Peter can see his breath fanning like smoke through the air.

“Woooahhhhh, babe…” He nudges you on the shoulder to get your attention, his expression wide eyed and bewildered, “Are you seein’ this shit?”

Recovering from your numbing state of euphoria, you lazily scan your room. You gasp, though it sounds more like a really cute squeak; covering your mouth with a hand.

“Ah! What the hell did I do!? I’m sorry! Oh my god, Peter, I’m so sorry!” You say, dropping your face into Peter’s frost-bitten chest.

He hisses as you lean into his sensitive, scarred skin. And before you can spout off another flurry of sweet apologies – a noise catches the attention of you both. Outside, the two of you hear the unmistakable sound of children’s laughter. Joyful cries, followed by playful giggles and screams. You raise your head, meeting Peter’s doe eyes with a questioning look.

Narrowing his eyes, he pats your thigh. Signaling you to hop off his lap.

Clumsily, Peter zips around the room in a blur, searching for something to cover himself up with. But his clothes are all caked in snow. And not to mention a little something else. Peter has to resort to a blanket stuffed underneath all the others on your bed. Untouched by your surprise blizzard. He cloaks himself in the blanket, appearing at your door in a fwip.

Discreetly, he pulls the door open.

Or, at least, he makes an attempt. It’s completely frozen in place, sealed with ice around the lock and hinges.. Why is he even surprised at this point? Peter tugs the handle once or twice with barely any strength. And when that doesn’t work, he jerks it open with a harsh flex of his muscles. He pokes his fluffy, silverette head halfway out the door. Looking up and down the hallways.

Only to find…

Your orgasmic snowstorm reached places far beyond the confined space of your room. Looks like Christmas came early this year. The hallways of Xavier’s mansion are all drenched in frosty spreads of snow. It’s not nearly as much as what’s accumulated in your room. But it’s enough to stir up the students and teachers. Many of the kids run around excitedly. Bouncing, cheering, celebrating.

And who can blame them?

To those unseen forces of the universe out there: thanks for blessing us all with the power of Screwball's ecstasy.

Out of nowhere, the X-Men’s laser eyed leader makes his appearance. Scott comes skidding to a halt outside your door just at that moment. He balances himself with a hand to your door, a genial smile on his face. A fuzzy fust of red tickles the apples of his cheeks and the tip of his nose.

Across the hall, Logan leans casually against a wall. Puffing a cigar, wearing a thin undershirt that compliments his jacked form a little too well. He stuffs his hands in the pockets of his fitted jeans.

For a moment, Scott doesn’t seem to register why Peter’s even in your room.

But in this life, one speedster can only be so lucky.

“Wh-...Peter? Hey-uh…where’s-” Scott mentions your name, and continues, “I wanted to give ‘em my thanks for doing this.” He gestures over his shoulder to the mess of snow covering the walls and floors, “Some of the kids were getting really sick from the weather. And I know Xavier's gonna be pissed, but-...” His voice slowly trails off.

Scott’s smile falls for a beat. But Peter finds it hard to read his emotions without seeing his eyes clearly. Those sunglasses must do him loads of favors on a daily basis. If he tries, he can gauge what’s going through Scott’s head based on the look of surprise that crosses his face. Followed by a sly, knowing grin.

Summers is an intelligent guy. It doesn’t take long for him to put two and two together.

Especially with the way Peter stands in your doorway. He’s draped in a blanket that clearly isn’t his, shoulders bare underneath. The surface of his skin burns cherry red in some places. His hair is a tousled, fuzzy mess, and his cheeks are flushed bright pink.

Peter awkwardly swallows, avoiding the vibrant gaze of Scott’s red-tinted sunglasses. He directs his attention over his shoulder instead, making accidental eye contact with Logan. Wolvie arches a thick, quizzical brow, his eyes glancing over Peter’s blanketed form.

He really hadn’t meant for anyone to find out about this. But it looks like the cat’s out of the bag.

“You kids better be using protection.” Scott jokes, patronizing.

Which is funny, coming from him. Peter’s got ten years on him at the least.

“Uhhhh, yeah. I’ll totally tell ‘em you said thanks. We cool? Bitchin’. Later, Summers.” Peter rushes through his words ultra fast, before slamming the door shut behind him.

That’ll be a rough one to explain later. But hopefully no one’ll be nosy enough to pry. Besides, Peter doesn’t wanna think about it right now. Since, y’know, he kinda just got laid for the first time. Which is really fucking awesome, now that he can stop and really digest that it happened. And with someone he’s been crushing on too.

Maybe he’s luckier than he thought.

Peter presses his back against your icy door, letting the thick blanket covering his body fall to the floor. Leaving him butt ass naked in your freezer of a room. He rakes his fingers through his hair, cheesing a goofy smile to himself.

“What’s goin’ on? Were you talkin’ to someone?” You ask, emerging from your bathroom and brushing snow off a towel.

“Oh- pfffttt …just Summers. Yeah. He-uh…wanted to tell you thanks. ‘Cuz you kinda went all blizzard on this whole place and now it’s, like-” Peter makes a wide gesture with his hands, mimicking the sound of an avalanche falling. Or, that’s what he tries to do, anyway. He’s never been the best at charades.

“HUH!? What are you-” You rush to your door. Those pretty titties of yours bounce with every step. And Peter ogles them shamelessly. Poking your head through the door, he overhears the sound of your gasp. Followed by the shyest little, “Heyyyyyy, Logan.”

Before you’re closing the door again, marching to your bathroom with your head cast down in shame.

“Xavier’s gonna kill me, dude! I can’t believe this!” You whisper-shout.

Your bashfulness and frustration are so cute, Peter has to refrain from snickering. And as you reach the doorway, you stop yourself. He catches the motion of your eyes checking him out, before your gazes meet again. Peter smirks.

“Uhm…how was your first time, by the way?” You ask in a quiet, uncertain tone, “Was it…okay?”

Oh, you cannot even be serious right now.

Peter gives you a weird look. Staring at you like you’re some strange, newly discovered entity from a far off universe. Really, you must be, if you’re gonna question a good time like that.

“Okay? Okay?? ” Peter appears before you in less than a blink’s time.

He wraps his strong arm around your waist, pulling you close to his body. Grinning confidently, he darts down to kiss your frosty lips.

“Screwball, baby, that was a total rush. Are you crazy? It’s not every day I make somebody cum so hard they kickstart an early winter, y’know. Not bad fer my first time, if I do say so myself.” He waggles his brows.

I’m really glad I could help you out…” You mutter, smiling so sweet.

Your fingers trace the burns littering Peter’s chest with a feather-light touch. Even the faintest brush makes him wince in pain. But he’s not ashamed to admit it’s totally worth it. What’s a little freezer burn and frostbite between friends, huh?

Or, between…whatever the two of you are now.

“Oh, you did wayyyy more than help me out.” Peter winks, kissing you once more, “You rocked my world babe. Don’t sweat it, ‘kay? I had a great time.”

You saunter off to your bathroom then. And Peter reaches out to playfully smack your ass as you walk away. He admires your gorgeous figure in all its naked glory. His eyes following the jiggle of your booty cheeks.

“Yer still takin’ me on that date, right? Dinner and a movie?” He asks, startling you with his sudden appearance in the bathroom. Peter presses himself into your back, standing tall in comparison to your height.

“Can we hold off? Do you think you can wait until the city isn’t on fire?” You meet his dark eyes in the mirror over the sink, “And it can’t be Howard the Duck.”

“No. It’s most definitely gotta be Howard the Duck.” Peter brings his warm hands to your shoulders, thumbs gliding along your soft skin. He leans down to pepper your sex hair in kisses, “I won’t accept nothin’ else, got it?

“Mmmhm. Shouldn’t I be the judge of that, Peter? Since, like, you keep implying I’m the one paying.”

He scoffs, slowly gliding his large hands over the irresistible curves of your body. He gives a mischievous grin through the mirror, his look oozing speedster charm.

“Who said anything about paying?”

#peter maximoff x reader #peter maximoff x you #peter maximoff x y/n #txt #smut

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ijustwanttoreadfanfiction · 1 year

Text

Just Happy To Be Here

Eddie Munson x AFAB! Reader

This is such a crack fic, honestly I love writing adorable Eddie.

Warnings: References to sex, references to oral sex, explicit language.

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Eddie is almost 99% sure he dreamt you up. There's no other explanation, you're beautiful, smart, sexy as all hell, funny, kind, caring, and you love him. Did he also mention sexy as all hell? He did? Good.

The whole thing was absurd, it warranted scientific investigations, academics would one day research the phenomenon and write expansive books on the subject.

'The woman who obviously hit her head incredibly hard and fell in love with the town freak - a study.'

In the two years you'd been dating, aka the best years of Eddie's life, the thing he appreciates most is how comfortable you are with each other now. When you first started dating that was also great but you were both trying so hard to impress each other all the time. He remembered when you got a really bad rash from shaving your pussy so much, the sore, red raw skin made him so sad, he had told you in no uncertain terms after that, that you could have a glorious bush to rival Laura Sands and he would still the happiest (and horniest) man on Earth, because it was you.

Besides, who doesn't enjoy an adventurous trek through the jungle every now and then?

But back to being comfortable, like now you’re sitting length-ways on the sofa, back to his chest, stained sweatpants, holey t-shirt, three day old hair, shoveling popcorn into your mouth in, quite frankly, an aggressive manner and all Eddie can think is 'goddess'.

"- I mean I know you shouldn't root for the shark, but pay more attention to your kid lady!" You gripe around your mouthful, gesturing at the television. Eddie presses a firm kiss to your cheek, grinning over just how much he adores you.

"What was that for?" You ask, a bashful smile on your face.

"Nothin', just like you is all." He says attempting to be casual, but failing miserably, fingers tracing up and down your arm.

You beam at him, and he thinks he might have a heart attack when you turn your head, planting a big kiss on his lips, you taste like caramel and cherry cola.

"I like you too baby." You whisper, pecking at his lips one more time before turning back to the screen to shout.

"I mean c'mon who cares about some whiney kid, what about the fucking dog?!"

Anyway, sex, oh sweet Jesus, sex with you, it’s the best. Being a social outcast, Eddie hadn’t been afforded many opportunities to have relations with the female of the species, he certainly wasn’t a virgin but outside of the occasional inebriated hook up he relied mostly on his hand and vivid imagination.

So when you strolled into his life, with your heavenly curves and devilish smirk, and actually wanted him, he was decidedly at your mercy. He still can’t believe that he gets to see you naked, like if he wants to see your tits he only needs to ask, and you’ll happily flash him.

Last weekend you had been hanging out at the trailer, both of you sprawled across his bed, Eddie leaning against the headboard busy learning some new chords.

“Eds I’m bored.” You sigh, throwing your book to one side, crawling over to him on all fours.

“We can go for a walk or something in a bit if you want sweetheart.” He murmurs absentmindedly, practicing his finger placement.

“I don’t want to go for a walk.” You say coquettishly, pressing your arms into your chest, giving your tits a boost.

“So - uh - what did you want to do?” Eddie asks, hands stilling on the strings, eyes unabashedly fixed to your breasts.

“You.” You reply simply, leaning back to pull your top over your head.

If he had been holding anything other than his guitar it would have been flung across the room, instead he scrambled up, placing her back into her stand as carefully as possible before throwing himself back to the bed in a chaotic state of undress; so eager to just be involved.

The first time you had sex together Eddie came in two minutes, you were so fucking beautiful and sexy, and you definitely have a vice between your legs rather than a vagina. He was mortified, thinking you’d up and leave, instead you giggled and smiled blissfully, kissing and petting him until he was ready for round two… and three.

There is always laughter during sex, it's only to be expected, both of you being inherently clumsy and awkward humans. You’ll say dumb shit like “Climb aboard sailor, and find me booty!”, or when switching positions someone will accidentally get kneed in the crotch, Eddie’s rings catching in your hair, you deciding you’re not actually going to squirt but rather desperately have to pee halfway through. Some of Eddie’s best orgasms have been when he is laughing with you, like the time you had to relocate to his floor as Wayne was home and the bedframe kept nudging against the wall with a tell-tale ‘thump, thump, thump’, instead of getting up like normal people you both decided to simply roll off the mattress still connected. Teeth, heads, and elbows colliding painfully, but you had sat up with a breathless laugh, resuming your frantic pace, Eddie delirious and hysterical beneath you.

The idea that you found him sexy honestly baffles him, why would you pick him when there were people like Steve Harrington in the world, but then he would catch you staring at him; biting your bottom lip, dreamy look on your face and he knew you were down just as bad as him. Even so the first time you asked to suck him off he asked you to clarify three times just to be sure he hadn’t misheard, when you repeated your request he near enough died, and when you finally put your mouth on him - well it would have been a hell of a way to go out.

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Taglist: @take-everything-you-can @angietherose @chronicles-of-koystee @lottie9090-blog @akiratoro420 @eddies-hid3out @whoahoney @

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ratatouillewastakendammit · 1 year

Text

Maid To Be Yours

Pairing: Dabi x Reader

Summary: Maid-Sama meets Touya Todoroki because that fucker would die to see you in a maid outfit. (Part 2)

Warnings: Smut, slight public-sex, language, vaginal fingering, the title tbh, Dabi too he gets his own warning

Word Count: 2.7k

“Behind,” you muttered, slipping past the chef and into the main seating area.

The room was abuzz with soft music and the smell of nostalgia. Girls in a similar uniform to yours were presenting some steaming dish or cheerfully chatting with their customers.

Your own, a pair of teenage boys who were probably just here for a cheap look at the servers, were laughing heartily about something unimportant as you walked over.

As long as they tipped well, you didn’t really care.

With a polite smile, you passed them their checks. “Thank you so much for dining with us. Please come again!”

And with a small bow, you were gone, weaving around the tables toward the quiet sanctuary that the locker room provided.

It was fairly busy for a Wednesday night, which meant more money, but also meant more people to deal with.

The constant activity of a full house made it difficult to not become overwhelmed. And while you dealt with an overload of alarming tasks on a daily basis, it did become tiring after a while.

Your mind felt drained from the constant employment of a likable persona, your limbs heavy under the weight of fatigue from hours of carrying over-sized drinks.

Thankfully, the flow of customers had finally begun to trickle to a slow, allowing you the sweet relief of a well deserved break. The charming guise cracked as you slumped over a bench, allowing a weary sigh to slip through the fracture.

“You okay?”

“Hm?” You looked up, meeting eyes with your manager. “Oh, yeah, sorry. Just a bit tired, I guess.”

It had been quite the night, keeping you out well over two in the morning. Unfortunately, your last minute decision to take some overtime had you waking up a mere six hours later.

In hindsight, a horrible choice.

Flashing a grin, she shot you a thumbs up. “Well, you’re doing great! Thanks again for picking up all these extra shifts.”

Your manager was a kind woman, although you silently wondered whether or not the enjoyment she found in this line of work was exactly warranted. Regardless, she was lenient and in no way condescending, a trait you had seen in many of the other bosses you’d had the pleasure of working under.

She took a step into her office, pausing for a moment in thought before turning back in your direction. "Actually, I know you're about to go on break in a few minutes. Would you mind tossing the trash out real quick?"

"Sure, no problem."

"Ugh, you're amazing," She gushed. "Remind me to tell you about the new hire tomorrow, yeah?"

Another thing about your manager was that she was, for want of a better term, very communicative.

Seeing as you and the other waitresses were relatively close in age to her, she seemed to show great interest in your personal lives, which resulted in a good amount of friendly gossip among your coworkers.

This also produced some unwanted questions and comments. She thoroughly enjoyed the standard 'you're too pretty to be single,' or a good old petition to set you up with a friend or neighbor.

Thankfully, you were quick to come up with excuses or some other lie that would quell her curiosity until it was placed upon some other unsuspecting victim.

However, you wondered what she would say if she caught wind of those hidden aspects of your life.

Of course, it wasn’t as if she would actually come close to finding out about any of them.

No one would ever guess a member of the infamous League of Villains would be working as a waitress in a maid cafe.

Being a criminal didn’t pay the bills. It gave you a place to stay, even when if that place was a small room a few floors above a musty bar, but it didn’t give much leeway financially. There were still other utilities and items that required money, hence your need to find another job.

Obviously, this hasn’t been your first choice.

Public service was not for the faint of heart, even for someone who associated with killers and other psychotic individuals on the regular. Not to mention the dress code, which had you rethinking your life choices upon inspection.

Regardless, the pay was a lot better than many deserving workers in the restaurant industry received and the hours were flexible, a necessary benefit for someone like you.

The cafe was also fairly far away from both the League’s hideout and your own living area, giving you peace of mind that no one would ever find out about your embarrassing side-gig.

Another thing you had come to find about workers as a criminal was that a lot of your colleagues were assholes. This wasn't surprising, seeing as they killed people on the regular, but it definitely gave you ample reason to keep your personal life private, even if a particular blonde teenager vehemently voiced her disapproval of your attempted reservedness.

That was a can of beans you had no intentions of opening.

You tied the top of the trash bag, hauling it over your shoulder and nudging the back door open with your knee. It opened into an alleyway, secluded from the busy streets and surprisingly clean.

The dumpster lifted open with a creak. It threatened to fall closed, but you propped it up with the bottom of your palm, slipping the bag through and taking a quiet exhale of victory.

"No fucking way."

Tensing at the unforeseen voice, you spun around with your hands up and ready for any trouble. Your heart slowed slightly upon recognizing the familiar face, only to pick up a moment later in panic.

Out of everyone in the League, Dabi was most definitely the last person you wanted finding out about this. His cocky attitude and overall lack of empathy for those around him had you extra weary about what you let slide concerning your personal life.

The fact that you had taken a slight attraction to the man also might have been of influence.

Exactly why, you weren't sure, especially since he had seemed to have recently found entertainment in the pastime of getting under your skin.

Maybe you were just a masochist.

You fumbled in a feeble attempt to cover yourself up, but the damage had already been done.

His surprised expression brightened considerably as he watched a plethora of emotions wash over you in sick glee. "So, this is your other job?"

"What are you doing here?" You avoided his question, tugging on the ruffles of your skirt and internally cringing when the fabric barely covered the highest part of your thigh.

Crossing his arms, Dabi leaned back on the brick. "There was a situation on fifth. The police should be here in twenty minutes, so I would watch out for that."

You sighed in annoyance, but the cops were honestly the least of your worries right now. "Shouldn't you... ya know, get out of here then?"

"Eh, later. I'm enjoying this." He shrugged, almost like an arrest paled in comparison to his new discovery.

Dabi pushed off the wall and began walking over to you. With every step forward, you took one back, avoiding his advance until your own shoulders hit the building behind you.

Turquoise eyes unabashedly scanned your frame and you unintentionally shifted under the strength of his gaze. He must have noticed, a tip of smirk pulling at the corners of his lips. "Who knew you were so cute?"

Blinking back in surprise, you shot him a glare that only made him laugh. "Don't call me that."

"Aww, is someone getting shy?"

"Pissed off, maybe," you muttered, trying to push past him and back inside the cafe, any place where you could sit and steep in your embarrassment alone.

Unfortunately, Dabi wasn't having it. He slipped an arm around yours, pulling you back around to face him.

"Oh, come on, doll." He tapped your nose with his finger, having it smacked away a moment later. "I think flustered is a great look on you. Do a little twirl for me, yeah?"

"I will kick your teeth out."

He gasped, the sound brimming in false hurt. "So harsh. Didn't you take this job for a chance to be nice to people? But if it was for the dress, I wouldn't judge either."

You rolled your eyes. "Obviously not, asshole. Shigaraki doesn't pay my bills."

"You know I have money, right?"

"And you'd be so generous to share?" You scoffed.

"In that little number," he cocked his head, a wicked grin flashing over his expression. "I'm sure we could work something out."

Heat bloomed up your neck at his insinuation, another insult getting caught in your throat.

Raising a hand to your temple, you let out an exasperated sigh in a meager attempt to regain your verbal footing. You had just about calmed down when you heard the shutter of a camera.

Your eyes shot up, heart dropping when you saw the phone in his hand pointing in your direction. "What are you doing?"

"Insurance policy." He inspected the photo for a moment. "There's no way anyone's gonna believe this without something some sort of proof."

"Dabi."

"Yeah, sweetheart?" His eyes flashed up to yours, faux innocence washing over his features at the anger evident in yours. "Oh, did you want this?"

Your fingernails bit into the palms of your hands, leaving tiny crescents behind that were evident of your vexation.

He loomed over you, eyes gleaming in sinful amusement. "You're gonna have to ask nicely then."

"Fuck you."

"Darn. Ya know, that's not the answer I was looking for." He swiveled on his heels, giving you an unbothered wave with his free arm. "See you later, doll."

You lunged forward, but he was quicker, not to mention taller.

With a surprising reaction time, he dodged your advance, lifting the phone until it was suspended just a few feet above your head. Every time you made a grab for it, he would straighten up just a few inches, making sure that the device was always centimeters from your grasp.

"Just give it!"

Dabi took hold of your elbow and pulled. You fell forward with a yelp, surprised at how easily he maneuvered your body against the wall. With your back pushing into the brick and his arms caging you in on both sides, there was nothing to do but succumb to his hold.

"You're telling me what to do?" The laugh he let out shot heat straight between your legs. "Sorry, doll, but I don't think you're not the one supposed to be giving orders here."

It was almost alarming how easily he was able to over power you, even more so how you barely even minded. Every suggestive sentence permeated your train of thought, thwarting any attempts you might have once had at preserving your pride.

His hands snaked down to your waist as he leaned forward, breath tickling the tip of your ear. "Now, I wanna hear it in that pretty, little customer service voice how much you want to keep this between us."

The movement sent a shiver down your spine. It was obvious that Dabi was an intimidating individual, but never like this. His presence was overpowering, the mocking tone of his voice a mere whisper of the intensity within his sharp features.

"Please keep this between us," you muttered, trying to push as much audible annoyance into the sentence as possible.

With a satisfied hum, he drew back and turned his phone off before slipping it in his pocket. "See how easy that was?"

"But you didn't delete it," you protested.

"Relax, sweetheart, I'm not gonna show anyone." His gaze raked over your form, a smug grin pulling at the corners of his lips. "I'm the only one who gets to see you looking like that."

The hand still holding your hips began to trail lower, gently grasping the top of your thighs.

Your eyes widened at the feeling. "What are you doing?"

Cerulean irises flashed up to yours as his movements came to an abrupt halt. "Do you want me to stop?"

"No," you breathed, far too quickly for your liking.

A smirk cracked over his features. "That's what I thought."

And his lips crashed against yours, hands moving to cup your face in a gentle ardor you didn't know he possessed.

He lifted his knee, nudging it between your thighs and drawing a sigh from you. He took advantage of your surprise, slipping his tongue forward to meet yours.

The kiss turned desperate. It trailed down toward your jaw and right above your neckline, creating marks that you could only hope to be able to hide.

Lust began to cloud your senses, fogging over your mind until rational thought became unnoticed. You unconsciously began to roll your hips over his thigh, desperate for friction in whatever form possible.

With squeeze he gave your ass, and the way he grinned into your neck, it was evident that he noticed.

"Do you know how long I've thought about you like this?" His voice was coarse against your neck.

"In a maid outfit?" You breathed, earning a short laugh.

"Desperate for me to fuck you stupid, but that's good too."

Dabi sneaked a hand under your skirt, nudging the fabric of your underwear to the side. He ran a finger across your slit, examining the wetness that followed it with pure satisfaction. "Shit, I've barely even done anything yet."

Your body stiffened as his thumb brushed over your clit, slowing rolling over the nub until your hips followed each rotation.

Satisfaction flashed in his features at the way your body reacted to his touch. “That's right. Show me how needy you are for me."

“Plea-” the rest of the word fizzled into a sigh as he pushed a finger into you.

“Come on, sweetheart. You can do better than that.” The encouraging statement reeked of mocking amusement. His hand curled into you, eyes brightening with every gasp and whine he pulled from you.

You grabbed onto his shoulder, legs weakening into jelly. "Fuck, Dabi, please!"

"There you go, doll." He slipped another finger inside and a moan slipped past your lips. The pace of each push increased steadily, following the wordless pleas that you gave.

Pleasure coursed through you with each one, his thumb still trained over your oversensitive clit. Your surroundings faded away into a mindless afterthought in the midst of euphoria.

It was only a few minutes before you were melting in his arms, falling apart in a mess of ecstasy.

“So pretty.” He muttered, brushing a strand of hair that had fallen askew behind your ear.

The world was quiet, bathed in a gentle glow that the setting sun provided. Shadows grew within the corners, a physical hint to the ever passing time.

Still, you could've stayed there forever, resting in the bright cerulean that admired your shaking form like it was a work of art.

Of course, it would have been surprising if you were granted that luxury.

Sirens sounded in the distance, a sound that you were more than familiar with, but one that had never been as unwanted as it was now.

Dabi seemed to share a similar sentiment.

“You've got to be kidding,” he groaned, drawing back and taking a look down the alleyway. Annoyance flashed over his expression, taking the place of worry that any rationally thinking individual would experience.

You cleared your throat. "Uh, you should probably get going then."

His gaze turned back to meet yours, softening a bit under the fading sun. Regardless, that shit-eating had returned, much to your dismay.

"How sweet of you to worry," He teased, earning an eye roll. Coming forward once more, he brought his lips to yours again before moving to leave. “See you later, doll. I'll make sure to fuck you properly then.”

You could only imagine what a mess you looked like, breathless and slumped against a wall behind your cafe. The brick supported your body as you saw Dabi's come to a pause, like a passing train of thought had overtaken his path.

Face still warm from his lewd comment, you watched him turn slightly, voice echoing off your surroundings in one final statement.

“Make sure to bring the outfit.”

#dabi x reader #dabi x you #touya todoroki x reader #touya todoroki x you #dabi #touya todoroki #dabi smut #touya x reader #bhna smut #bhna #mha #mha smut #mha x reader #mha x you #bhna imagine #mha imagines #bhna x reader

682 notes · View notes

internetgremlin-writes · 2 years

Text

Redemption

Prompt/Summary: Request from anon: can I please get a Carlos smut fic. I’d like him to be the complete dom in bed. Also for @brightsunflowersworld and @hnmaga-blog who both requested stuff on the same lines

Pairing: Carlos Sainz Jr x Female Reader

Word Count: 8,300

Warnings: S M U T [as the ask suggests, Dom!Carlos, but it's still Carlos, so Gentleman vibes at all times]

forgive me father for i have SINNED

“Hey,”

Warm fingers wrapped around your elbow, stopping you in your tracks. Your stomach dropped and you cast a quick glance up to the sky in a silent plea that this would be quick, before turning around. You grasped the phone you were holding with both hands and hitched a gentle smile onto your face.

“Hi, Carlos,” he was stood too close, again, just enough that you had to crane your neck up to meet his gaze. “Congrats on today, by the way, it was a brilliant drive. You really deserve the win,” you meant it. Carlos had wanted a win for so long, and he’d worked so hard to get himself into a car and a team who could give it to him.

He positively radiated at your words, the beam that had barely left his face for the last hour growing wider still as he flashed you his teeth and then cast a shy look at the trophy hanging low in his hand as if he still couldn’t quite believe it was his.

“You’re coming to the team photo?” You tried not to bristle at his question. You didn’t want to be the one person annoyed at him today.

“Yes, Carlos, I am part of the team,” you sent him a tight-lipped smile and held the phone up. Any sense of normal conversation immediately vanished. He nodded awkwardly, mumbling an ‘of course’ and tilted his chin up at someone in the distance, moving past you to meet them.

The second he left you found yourself letting out a sigh of relief, turning the phone absentmindedly in your hands. You still had an hour to wait whilst he was on media duties to rally the team and collect as much evidence as you could before the photo. Like most interactions with Carlos, you put it to the back of your mind and tried your best to get on with your job. You knew a lot of people looked down on the jobs like social media admin, but it was still a role in the team. Besides, since the team had finally let you embrace TikTok and meme culture you knew you were responsible for a good hoard of new followers. Still, you found yourself not for the first time rubbed up the wrong way by Carlos’ throwaway comment.

You deliberately stood right on the edge of the group photo, even though your smile was genuine. The second it was over you were ducking out again. Luckily, Carlos was too busy surrounded by everyone wanting a piece of Silverstone’s newest winner for you to even see him. What you hadn’t anticipated, however, was walking directly into the three other women working as part of the race weekend team at Ferrari.

“Y/N,” Jessica, Charles’ PR manager stopped you.

“Don’t even think about it,” Megan, who was technically your boss at Communications chimed in.

“I’m literally standing here, what could I possibly be thinking about?” you grumbled, not sure what you could possibly have done to warrant such stern looks.

“Team drinks, tonight,”

“No,”

“See, I told you!” Carrie, who was just eighteen and new to the team piped up. “Please, Y/N, we’ve not been out with you in ages,” you sighed and rolled your eyes.

“C’mon guys, we can do something just the three of us another time,”

“Don’t you think sometimes it would just be easier if you were normal to him?” Jessica, who you’d known the longest as you’d both started working with Ferrari in 2017, sent you a knowing look. You could feel your face heating up in response and it became a battle to keep your expression neutral.

“Absolutely not,”

“He’s just won a Grand Prix, Y/N, don’t you want to celebrate?” You had to fight the urge to tell Carrie to shut up about things she didn’t fully understand. You knew from the way Megan was flipping through her clipboard of notes you were about to receive a threat, which made you laugh at least.

“Alright, fine! But only because I can see Meg looking for a punishment for me and I am not filming Charles moaning in an ice bath again,” Carrie looked like she was about to hug you, the younger girl virtually bouncing on the spot as she let out a small squeal of joy. “Text me the address and time will you, Meg? I’m going to need a taxi,”

You recognised the address the second you picked up your phone from where you were sprawled out in the hotel bath, a concoction of salts added to the water in an attempt to either calm you or kill you - you weren’t fussed which. You’d been before, it was a fancy cocktail place on the embankment in London, right on the riverfront. It made up the top floor of an old industrial building, with floor-to-ceiling windows that looked right out over one of the most iconic skylines of London. The drinks were obscenely expensive but worth every penny.

You hoisted yourself out of the bath, wrapped a towel around yourself and started to flick through the limited wardrobe you’d brought with you. Typically, you hadn’t packed for such an event. The last time you’d gone to a work do… well, you knew how it had ended and had vowed you’d never get drunk with colleagues again. Your eyes lingered over a short red dress you took with you everywhere. It fit you like a dream and was the perfect last-minute-plans dress. As you pulled it off the rack you froze.

You could almost smell the cheap beer of the dodgy dive bar in Texas you were in. Max had just achieved a career-best and over at Red Bull proper, Daniel had brought home a win. You’d been wearing that dress. It was your second season with Toro Rosso, but first on the travelling team and it had been the first time you’d been invited out to team celebrations. You remembered the way Carlos had been staring at you all night and how you’d had a crush on him for most of the season. You’d filmed that stupid mechanical bull video earlier in the day, and it had been the only thing on your mind since.

You also remembered peeling that dress off the floor at four o’clock in the morning on your way out.

Cringing, you put the red dress back without hesitation. The same way you’d left Toro Rosso.

No, tonight was the night for moving on. It was not for silly little dresses and making the same mistakes you’d made at twenty. You instead settled on a pair of fitted trousers, a flattering, silky wrap top and light makeup to match. You found a pair of sensible heels and nodded at yourself in the mirror for being such a mature and sensible woman in her mid-twenties. And rewarded yourself with a gin and tonic whilst you waited for the taxi.

The group chat Carrie had set up named “The Gworls in Red” for the female Ferrari workers lived on mute, but you scrolled through the recent messages as you sipped your drink and took some entertainment from Carrie’s apparent breakdown over what to wear. It seemed she’d sent a photo of everything she owned, and you were glad that at least Jess was a good enough sport to have responded and helped her out.

The second you arrived at the bar you made a beeline for Jessica, who was already nursing a Sex on the Beach and was in deep conversation with a couple of the boys from Charles’ pit crew. You appeared at her shoulder with a quick hello for everyone.

“Did you hear?” One of the guys, you had a feeling he was called Marco, asked you with a gleeful look. “It’s an open bar,”

“Really?” You couldn't keep the excitement out of your tone. You were a sucker for a quality cocktail. You immediately excused yourself and picked up a menu, deciding to start your adventures off strong with a Negroni. Very mature, you told yourself again as you were joined by Carrie with a Cosmopolitan that was the same shade as her dress.

To be fair, the party was pretty great. You were off duty, though you couldn’t help but capture a couple of key moments for a post later. The drinks were exquisite, and the company was much more fun than Red Bull. Classier, and much less chaotic despite the thickening Italian accents piercing through the room. As much as it was funny, not having to worry about the destruction caused between a drunk Daniel Ricciardo and Max Verstappen removed a layer of stress for you. At one point you’d even found yourself dancing with your friends and smiling. And, most importantly, not thinking about avoiding him the entire time.

You’d been doing well, too, until Meg announced she needed a smoke break and you figured there’d be no harm in getting another drink and accompanying her. The air was pleasantly warm as Meg made idle chat with you. She puffed on her cigarette and you sipped your drink.

“Why do you avoid him like the plague, anyway?” She asked, tilting her head inside. You didn’t need to look to know the older woman was talking about Carlos. You took another drink.

“It’s awkward,” she shrugged and blew a smoke ring.

“English people make so much drama,” she grumbled something in Italian “It was a one-night stand. If I acted like you I’d not be able to go in that room,” she jabbed a thumb at the party thriving behind you. You couldn’t help but snort into your drink and Meg laughed along with you.

“If it was just a one-night stand it would be fine, I’m not a total prude,” you decided to blame the alcohol for your loose lips because you’d never admitted to anyone what had really happened when you’d slept with Carlos. Megan stubbed her cigarette out and immediately lit another, gesturing for you to keep talking.

“He asked me on a date after,” she narrowed her eyes at you, clearly not satisfied with your response. You sighed, taking a big gulp of your drink and savouring the bitter way it burnt your throat for a second before taking a steadying breath and continuing. “And I snuck out,”

Meg inhaled hard and burst into spluttering coughs. You had to pat her on the back and let her finish your drink before she settled into wheezy laughs, gripping your arm to stop you squirming away.

“You…” she had to stop to wipe her eyes, shaking her head as she continued. “You ditched a Formula One driver? Stupid girl,” you groaned audibly, ruing giving away the last of your drink as you twisted the empty glass in your hands uncomfortably.

“Why did you think you got an application from me mid-season? I had to leave,”

“Leave who?” Jess had joined you two on the balcony. “What have I missed? Carrie is puking, by the way,” Meg snorted, but had an affectionate smile.

“Golden boy asked Y/N on a date and she never answered him. That’s why they make everything so awkward,” you dropped your head into your hands, muttering an irritable ‘thanks’.

“What!? Why!?” Jess sounded as gleeful as Meg had at the news.

“Love the support guys,”

“No come on you must tell us,” Meg piped back up, offering Jess a cigarette from her packet, who shook her head politely, Meg just shrugged and tucked it back into her jacket. You really wanted another drink.

“Was he that bad?” Jess always had been blunt. You couldn’t bring yourself to answer, but your face said everything.

“No. Fucking. Way,” her voice was low, almost impressed. “So much for the ‘Smooth Operator’, ha,”

“We were like twenty,” you tried to defend, but they weren’t interested. They wanted details.

“No, no I have to know. How?” Meg was pushing, and Jess had disappeared for less than a minute and returned with a round of Mojitos. There was no way you were going to get away without sharing more.

“It was just a bit… sappy?” You told your drink. The other two women were staring at you in silence and you sighed heavily. Detail it is, then. “Like he asked if I was alright constantly,”

“Okay but skills, c’mon Y/N, stop sparing details,” you groaned loudly, making Meg bark a laugh.

“You two are like fucking vultures,” you shook your head “Fine. He was average, happy? I never came. And he thanked me after,”

Jess was looking at you like you’d just told her she’d won the lottery.

“Poor baby Carlos. Never pegged him for the clueless type,”

“Okay, I’m done. And I’m cold,” you lied, leading the other two inside before they could push you any further. The group dissipated again once inside. You decided two successive tequila shots were required to immediately forget that conversation, Meg resumed the role of the responsible adult and collected a glass of water to take to Carrie and Jess disappeared into the midst of the mechanics, where she was happiest.

You amused yourself at the bar, chatting to a couple of other team members you didn’t usually see and having a bit of a dance to some terrible cheesy music. Your head was starting to spin and you were feeling a little stupid, which to you was a sign you needed water and fresh air before you went down the same road as Carrie. Having said that, Carrie had clearly revived herself as she was aggressively snogging one of the apprentice boys in the middle of the dance floor.

Water collected, you found yourself back out on the smoking balcony, enjoying the five minutes of quiet to try and capture some aesthetic photos of London at night as you let the cleaner, cooler air do its job.

“I didn’t know if I’d see you tonight,”

You’d recognise the Spanish accent anywhere. Immediately trying not to tense you picked up your glass and held your hand up in apology. “Hi, great party, sorry I’ll just-”

“No, it’s okay,” you nodded at his gesture for you to stay outside. You sipped your drink to stop yourself from sighing once again. “I don’t hate you, you know,”

“Never said you did,” you shot back, immediately defensive.

“You look like you want to run away every time I see you,” he was leaning casually on the balcony, quietly absorbing the view. He seemed calm, much calmer than you’d ever seen him before. He had a contented smile sitting on those full lips, his hair combed back neatly and shining as the warm outdoor lighting caught it. He was wearing dark jeans and a shirt with a thin jumper pulled over the top. He didn’t look like someone who’d been going nuts on the podium celebrating his first ever F1 win a few hours ago.

“It’s just awkward,”

“Is it?” He turned his head to look at you, eyes holding yours with ease. After spending years avoiding ever looking at him, let alone in his eyes, you couldn’t help but feel a little bit betrayed by your body as you felt a shiver run down your spine. There was a reason you used to have a crush on him.

“Look I’m sorry-”

“No apologies, please,” you tilted your head to the side, not quite following. He scratched his neck with a slightly awkward laugh. “I needed to learn the lessons,” you pulled your lips in on themselves, pressing your mouth into an awkward grimace and nodding.

“Did you leave Red Bull because of me?”

You didn’t know what you were expecting him to say, but it sure as hell wasn’t that.

“Um- Jesus Carlos, straight for the jugular,” You huffed uncomfortably. “Yeah, I guess. I was young and I didn’t have an idea of how to talk to you after and it felt like the right thing to do,” he nodded slowly.

“And when I came to Ferrari? You still didn’t know what to say?”

“Hey,” you bristled “This isn’t just me. You never made any effort either,”

“Okay, fine,” he nodded, admitting his own fault.

You turned back to your drink, turning your nose up a little as the water had gone lukewarm from sitting under the small heater chugging away in the corner. You tipped it into the plant pot beside you and turned to walk back inside.

“Alright, Carlos, this was weird. Congratulations on your win though, I am really happy for you,”

“Wait,” he caught your arm, his fingers warm through the thin material of your top. His voice was almost desperate as you raised an eyebrow at him, “Please,”

“What else do you want from me?” He let go of you, running a hand through his hair. You pretending you weren’t watching the intricate way the strands fell back over his long fingers.

“Clean start,”

“What?”

“I want to start again. Forget everything, forget Red Bull and that terrible night and my terrible clothes. Please, let me clear the air, I beg you,”

“Okay,” you agreed. The problem was, you’d never disliked Carlos. Although that night had killed your crush on him, you did like the guy. He was kind and attentive to those close to him, he made an effort to say hello to everyone he saw, and he was always the one worrying after everyone else. He would look at someone like they were the only person in the room when he spoke to them. And he was funny, effortlessly so. He had every right to be an arrogant bastard, but he was one of the most down-to-earth people in the sport.

He stuck his hand out, a small grin on his face.

“It’s nice to meet you. I’m Carlos,” you shook his hand, rolling your eyes but there was a smile making its way onto your face.

“I’m Y/N, hi,”

“I would very much like to get you a drink,”

One more couldn’t hurt, right?

*****

“I was not that bad!” You collapsed into giggles at his indignant expression. Three more drinks and the balcony was still occupied by yourself and Carlos.

“You licked my leg at one point!” Carlos made a high-pitched noise that turned into a laugh, doing nothing to calm you down as he knocked into you.

“My God, why didn’t you say something to me?” He had his head in his hands, pretending he couldn’t look at you.

“Because you have these stupid great big eyes and it’s impossible to say mean things to you,” he immediately took that as an excuse to invade your personal space, crouching a little so he was looking up at you and batting his eyelashes like some kind of Disney cartoon with a little grin on his face that said he knew exactly what he was doing.

“Really?”

“Shut up,” you shoved his shoulder playfully.

A comfortable silence settled over the two of you, the noise of the party still babbling in the background. He was stood so close that your forearms were brushing against each other and it was making your insides warm pleasantly.

“I wish we’d done this sooner,” you hummed. “I forgot how much I liked you,”

Carlos shrugged. “Needed to grow up a bit,” you couldn’t help but agree.

He turned to you, a glint in his eye you hadn't seen before.

“If you want,” he started carefully, backing off to give you some space. “I can show you how much I’ve grown up,”

“He wins one race and suddenly he’s Mr Confident,” you rolled your eyes, playing hard to get. You couldn’t deny your interest was piqued.

“Hm, no, I’ve been confident for a while,” oh. Okay then. “Don’t you wanna congratulate your winner?” His fingers trailed almost lazily along your arm, watching the way goosebumps followed him. You felt like you were glued to the spot, only just managing to swallow around your tongue, which suddenly felt too big and dry in your mouth.

“This what you meant by clean slate?” Your attempt at a quip to break the tension was poor.

“It can be,” he paused, holding your gaze once more. “You look beautiful tonight, in case no one told you,”

“Oh fuck it,”

Luckily he understood what you meant, an arm snaking around your waist and pulling your body close to his as he leant down to kiss you. Any concerns you had for people inside seeing you immediately flew out of the window, along with any other rational thought. His lips felt better than you remembered. He used his nose to gently nudge your head to the side, allowing him better access to your mouth. One hand stayed on the small of your back, thumb rubbing gentle circles into the soft flesh there, the other came up to grasp your chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilting your head back further and causing your mouth to open a little. Carlos hummed appreciatively as he licked into your mouth, drawing a small gasp from you as you finally moved from his shoulders to grip his hair. The way he tightened his hold on you was addictive.

He pulled back slowly until his mouth was hovering just above yours, his grip on your chin leaving you powerless to move closer. He pressed light kisses along your jaw and down your neck, clearly enjoying the way you were already squirming helplessly in his hold.

“You already want me, hm?” His eyes blown wide, warm brown darkened, gave away that he wanted you just as much. You tried to lean forward to get him to kiss you again, but he just pulled away with a calm tsk.

“Use your words, Princesa,” whatever you were about to say died on your tongue. He clearly wasn’t satisfied with silence, swooping back down to nibble at the base of your neck, exactly where you liked it until you could feel your resolve fading.

“Yes, I want you,”

“Good girl,” you couldn’t stop the whimper that escaped you. That was definitely new, and it was hot.

Carlos called the taxi. You sidled up to Meg who was sprawled out on the chairs stacked around the sides of the dance floor, letting her know quietly you had a headache and would be heading out. She nodded sleepily, not really paying attention. You slipped down the stairs to the lobby where you had a clear view out onto the road. Carlos then made a show of saying a grand farewell to everyone, thanking them for the party and the free drinks and everything else winning drivers are supposed to say, you figured.

The ride back to his hotel was fairly quiet, but it wasn’t far away. You weren’t sure what to say. You figured cracking jokes and general chit-chat would ruin the mood, and the tension between you was already thick enough that you were surprised the driver couldn’t see it. You were grateful that he didn’t seem to recognise Carlos, and the two of you were able to get to the lifts without seeing another person. You ran into the same problem in the lift. Carlos was staring at you like he’d been starved and you were his favourite meal. It was making it difficult for you to stand still, constantly feeling the need to squeeze your legs together to keep yourself upright and to try and relieve some of the pressure he’d created by barely touching you.

When the doors pinged open, he didn’t say a word. Simply placed a hand on your lower back, barely making contact, and guided you forwards. The same happened at the door to his hotel room, he just silently held the door for you and invited you in.

“Would you like a glass of water?”

You were suddenly aware of how dry your mouth was and accepted gratefully. Carlos placed the small glass in your hand and watched you carefully as you finished it.

“I’m going to say this only once,” he had your full attention immediately. He was the kind of guy who didn’t need to be loud to be listened to. “Are you sure you want this?” You couldn’t help but smile, remembering last time, when you were asked if you were okay every thirty seconds, to the point where you’d told him rather abruptly to shut up.

You nodded. But he was frowning at you again.

“Need to hear you say it,”

“Yes, Carlos, you have my consent. I want to have sex with you,” he let out a huff of a half laugh, crossing back into your space. He held your cheeks with one hand, putting just enough pressure on to make your lips pout.

“Always so blunt,” he regarded you as if you were an insect he’d trapped, with mild interest as if he hadn’t quite decided what he wanted to do with you. “Might have to fuck that attitude out of your pretty mouth,” you gulped instinctively, knowing instantly that you were game for whatever he wanted you to do that night.

He let go of your cheeks, swapping to a gentle caress of your neck, the sudden change in tone enough to give you whiplash.

“You can tap out, whenever you need,” his brown eyes were fixed on yours imploringly. You nodded, but already knew you were putty in his hands. You could feel yourself slipping into a different mindset, one where you would go along with pretty much anything as long as it felt good. And you had a feeling this was going to feel very, very good.

“Take your clothes off for me,” Carlos fell back on his bed, gesturing for you to do as he said. You weren’t the type to pull a strip tease out of thin air, but you thought you made a decent show by simply slowing down your movements, dragging your own fingers across your skin as if they were his, by languidly dropping each item in a puddle on the floor one at a time. Once you were fully naked, Carlos just nodded approvingly and pulled his jumper over his head so that he could roll up the sleeves of the white button-down he had on underneath.

“Come here,” he gestured for you, so you made your way to the edge of his bed. He held your hand gently as you climbed up, and swang a leg over his hips so you were straddling him. He watched you for a moment, examining your body up close, hands running reverently over your skin.

Something in him seemed to break because with little warning he caught the back of your head and pulled you down to him in a feverish kiss. It was a little sloppy, in a good way, as you opened your mouth obediently against his, allowing him to take full control of you. You were already sighing and whining against his lips and you could feel his mouth curving up into a smirk in response. His fingers were digging into your hips, guiding you down so that your naked body rubbed against his jeans. You let out a high-pitched sigh as the friction hit you in all the right places, small crackles of electricity winding their way up your spine had your head dropped back and you repeated the movement.

You were settling into a rhythm, enjoying the way the material was almost too rough against you. A sudden loud noise made you jump, and it was only as your backside warmed and started to sting you realised he’d slapped you. His hand was resting on the throbbing cheek, rubbing gently to dissipate the sting.

“For making me wait so long,” his voice was gruff, deeper than it was a second ago. His hand left your bum, coming back down again, hard. You’d been a little more prepared this time, but the contact still made you jolt as the sound echoed around the room and the sting flooded back.

“For being a silly girl, avoiding me,” you whimpered, but not from pain. Carlos hesitated for a second to read your expression, his hand landing against your other cheek once he was satisfied, the untouched skin blossoming much quicker.

“For you to remember your manners,” You opened your mouth immediately to argue,

“But I haven’t said-” He immediately stopped rubbing the area and gave you another sharp smack.

“Manners, Cariño,” you just nodded silently, going limp in his arms in submission.

“Good girl, let me see,” he pulled you forwards, so your chest was pressed right against his as he peered down your back, examining his handiwork. The stinging sensation was subsiding into a pleasant warmth that was making you arch your back and keen for more. He hummed in approval, complimenting the shade of pink you’d managed to produce for him.

You pulled back, and he responded with a soft kiss, but you were too riled up to go back to soft and instead pressed yourself against him, trying to convey a silent need. Your hands were working at his belt buckle as he sucked your neck. Your fingers brushed against the bulge waiting for you and he hissed, sinking his teeth into your neck. He was making it difficult to focus as you finally managed to push his jeans away and slip your hand through his boxers.

He caught your wrist just as you were getting close to what you wanted.

“No, no. I have some work to do first,”

Carlos guided you onto your back, moving on top of you. You were immediately shifting your hips up, trying to regain some of that friction from earlier as he teased your neck, large hands playing idly with your breasts.

“Carlos, please,” that seemed to do something, because he hummed against your neck, one hand coming down to test between your legs.

“So wet for me already,” he mumbled against your skin, casually brushing against your clit and watching the way you jolted into him. “One minute, okay?”

He stood up, leaving you naked on his bed. Your whole body was humming, your skin felt like it was glowing you were so hot in your need for him. Carlos was rummaging around in his suitcase, something you were largely disinterested in, keening for him to come back to you. When he stood up to return, something was in his hands.

“You trust me?” He held up two silk ties, both with the Ferrari logo at the base. You fought the urge to laugh.

“Yes,”

He towered over you as he attached your wrists to the bed posts behind you with such gentle attention you were almost surprised he was tying you up at all. The silk was soft, and the ties had just enough pressure you could feel them keeping you in place but they weren’t cutting into you enough to hurt. Carlos trailed his fingers down the side of your face, and across your lips. He pressed two fingers against your bottom lip, and you opened your mouth on instinct. You watched his eyes widen on the spot as you sloppily sucked on his fingers, swirling your tongue around them and sucking hard. You saw his demeanour falter for a second as his hand ghosted across his crotch.

“Dirty girl, thinking about my cock?” You couldn’t do anything but whine as he removed his fingers, watching the string of spit that followed with fascination. “Gonna make you feel so good,”

You’d hold him to that, you thought.

Using the fingers you’d just sucked he worked his way through your soaked folds, sliding into you with little resistance. You gasped at the feeling, it wasn’t anywhere near enough, but you were so desperate it felt good to have something inside you. The moan he ripped from you was enough to let Carlos know he was certainly making you feel good. He started to move his fingers slowly, experimenting with the depth and curl until you gave a strangled cry as he hit that spot inside you that made your vision white out for a second.

“Yes, there, please,” you were almost in tears and he’d barely done anything to you. His face furrowed with concentration as he moved slowly, making sure he hit the same spot a couple more times so you were writhing and pleading beneath him. He moved up to press a soft kiss against your lips, saying I know and you’re doing so well and just a little more without saying anything at all. His lips were burning against your skin as he left a wet path down the length of your body. Your arms were straining pointlessly against your ties, desperate to grab his head and put him where you needed most.

Without warning Carlos moved forward, licking a stipe from his fingers that were still seated inside you all the way up. You jerked involuntarily. And then Carlos dived into you like a starved man. He had all the enthusiasm of the last time he’d done this, except now he had the accuracy to have your eyes screwed shut as you were physically unable to stop the string of curse words and his name from rolling off your tongue as he targeted your clit, fingers working inside of you. You felt like you were on fire, flushing hot and cold alternatively as he built speed until you couldn’t even speak. Your body felt like it was going to explode, and you tried to relay that to Carlos but instead of stopping he pulled back, sucking on your clit.

Feeling his teeth graze against what felt like raw nerves was enough, your mind went blank as your back arched off the bed, every muscle in your body tensing as you came with a wanton cry of his name. Carlos stilled his head, allowing you to move your hips against his face until you were too sensitive and needed to stop. He kept his fingers inside of you still, just keeping them pressed up against your G-spot so the waves of pleasure crashing over you didn’t quite stop. Once your breathing had returned to normal, he pressed a kiss right against your clit, ignoring your trembling legs.

“Such a good girl,” he sounded strained. “Let’s try for one more, no?”

You shook your head, body already feeling heavy from the first. Carlos regarded you carefully. When you didn’t vocalise the no, he moved his fingers, much slower and softer, but enough to send sparks up into your belly; just poking the glowing embers remaining.

“Do you really want me to stop, Princesa?” He asked, pretending you weren’t moving your hips to meet his hand or whimpering quietly to yourself.

“No,”

“So good,” he grinned, kissing you quickly before diving back down between your legs. “Gonna make you scream for me,”

This time, he barely had to move; his mouth working you at a relaxed pace as he lazily played with your spent body. You were so sensitive that you could barely breathe, just his breath on you alone enough to have you straining against your bonds and writhing in front of him. Slowly, you started to pass through the haze of overstimulation, your mind falling back into place as the gentle licks he was working you with were not quite enough.

“Carlos,” he lifted his head at your voice, his lips and chin shining.

“What is it? What do you want?” His voice was careful and controlled, a far cry from your own as a broken moan fell from your lips. He curled his fingers inside you as he spoke. “You can tell me, Cariño,”

“More… please,” it must have been the cue he’d been waiting for, because a wolfish grin stole across his face.

“Of course,” you whimpered as he kissed your forehead, your cheek, your neck. Working his way carefully down your body, leaving no part of you untouched by his mouth. He was slowly picking up speed with his fingers as he did so, working you into a rhythm so that by the time he finally placed his mouth back on you, you cried out helplessly. He mumbled something, the vibrations moving straight through you as he focused all his attention on bringing you back to that tantalising edge. All his teasing paid off because again he’d barely needed five minutes and you were a mess.

“Please, Carlos, please,” you were calling his name like it was a prayer, your hips bucking up out of control as he flattened his tongue against you. Tears sprang to your eyes at the desperation of it all, the heat in the room almost stifling. You didn’t know exactly what you needed, all you knew was that you were blisteringly close to an orgasm and Carlos was the answer. He hummed against you as you clenched your legs together, calmly using his hands to wrap around your thighs and pull them back apart. It didn’t stop the way you felt him moan against you. He squeezed your thighs, targeting your clit at the same time and that was it.

Your head dropped back as your mouth opened and you did, actually, scream his name as you came, harder than before. Your eyes were wet, and you could feel tear tracks streaking down the sides of your face. Your whole body was blushing, the colour blooming across your cheeks and shoulders. It felt like the only thing keeping you on the planet was Carlos’ hands, holding you firm and keeping you in place as he slowed his movements to a slow kiss as you came down, positively trembling.

He pulled back, something akin to awe in his eyes as he looked at you, hands tied, legs trembling and sprawled out for him. He reached down to touch you once more, hushing you as you whimpered at the contact, the sensitivity making you shudder violently.

“Shh, you’ve been so good,” he murmured, voice soft. “Tidy up for me,” his fingers, coated in the mess from between your legs were back on your lips. You opened your mouth without question, watching the way he swallowed harshly as you licked your own juices off his fingers.

“Shit, Y/N,” you smiled through bleary eyes at the compliment, barely registering him pulling away and leaning over you to undo the ties. He caught your hands, placing a cooling kiss on each wrist as he lowered them.

“You okay? Need a break?” He was watching you, concern flashing across his eyes for a moment. You took a second to think about it, registering the way your body was already heavy and spent, but you could feel in the pit of your stomach that you weren’t done. You wanted more. You shook your head, sitting up. Carlos brushed a stray tear from your cheek, murmuring sweet nothings as he did so.

He pulled you into another kiss, his hand cupping an entire side of your face. It was easy to melt into him, the way he was so gentle with you but so commanding. He was kissing you like you might break, but at the same time, there was a searing intensity behind it that had you wanting more, again. You’d recovered some of your own movement, your hands finally had stopped shaking enough for them to become useful again. You moved up to play with the collar of his shirt, slowly working at undoing each button until it was hanging open. You ran your hands across his shoulders. He didn’t stop you, which you decided equated to permission as you pushed the material off, revelling in the solid warmth of his chest.

He’d put on a lot of muscle since you’d last seen him like this.

Your mouth was watering, Carlos’ lips reattached to your neck not helping. He pulled back, running a thumb across a spot on your neck that he’d been paying a lot of attention to, making you shiver.

“When you look in the mirror, I want you to see this and think of me,” you made a small noise at the back of your throat in response and dropped your hands to his open jeans, palming at him. He grunted, eyes fluttering shut for a second. You slid off the bed, dropping onto your knees on the floor. When Carlos opened his eyes to see you like that the noise he made was almost deadly.

“I know what you want, pretty girl,” his thumb was playing with your bottom lip, swollen from kissing. “You wanna congratulate me?” You nodded, your affirmation little more than a breathy sigh as you sat back. It gave you a small hit of satisfaction to watch Carlos move with haste for the first time that night as he stood to shimmy his jeans down his legs, followed by his boxers.

He sat back down, right on the edge of the bed, his legs spread on either side of your body. You couldn’t help but gulp at the sight of him, already hard and straining against nothing right in front of your face. You looked up at him, blinking hard as you took in the sight. He looked like a god, watching you from above with a soft look in his eye, hair flopping forward due to the bend in his neck. All tan skin and smooth muscle. He stroked your face once more.

He sat back, watching you leisurely as you moved forward, wrapping your hand around him first. There was a lot of him, but you weren’t one to shy away from a challenge. You couldn’t wait any longer, dipping your head down at the same time you gazed up, taking his tip into your mouth. Immediately, you were rewarded with the sweet and salty taste of precum on your tongue. He hissed as you bobbed your head a couple of times before dropping your head down, taking as much of him into your mouth as you could.

“Go on, Cariño, whatever you want,”

“Shit,” he groaned into his hand, composure rapidly fading as you began to work. He let you move at your own pace for a little while, rewarding you with plenty of praise as you dragged your tongue against him and hollowed your cheeks to suck. His head dropped back as he tangled a hand in your hair, tapping your cheek to still you for a moment.

“Can I?” He didn’t need to ask the full question, you humming a ‘yes’ with as much of him still in your mouth as you could. He tightened his hold on you, and you relaxed your neck, allowing him to guide your movements on his cock. It was hot, there was no denying it as you closed your eyes, squeezing your legs together to try and ignore the heat building once more, relaxing your throat and simply focusing on breathing through your nose as you let him fuck your mouth.

“So fucking good,” he spat through gritted teeth, his accent as thick as you’d ever heard it. “Such a good girl for me,” you looked up at him, eyes wide and innocent as you nodded.

“So good for your winner,” you moaned at the same time as he pushed right to the back of your throat. The combination ripped a noise from him you’d never heard before, something primal and almost guttural.

He pulled you back a little, fucking more into the hollows of your cheeks as you sucked hard around him.

“Fuck, okay. Enough,” he released his grip on you, allowing you to pull off him. You looked up at him quizzically, not sure why he stopped you so suddenly when it was just starting to get good. He chuckled at your lost expression.

“Don’t look so disappointed, Princesa,” he pulled you back up so you were standing in front of him. He pressed a kiss against your mouth, an arm wrapping around your waist as he pulled you down, rolling on top of you with ease. “Want to be inside you more,” he was stroking your hair, admiring the way you looked pinned beneath him.

“I want you,” you agreed, running a hand through his hair. “I want you to fuck me,” he groaned, head dropping into the crook of your neck, mumbling something in Spanish against your skin.

“You are incredible,” he praised, voice like honey. You raised your hips to meet his, a thrill of anticipation shooting through you as you felt him brush against your pussy. You were not above begging him, and he hushed you, unbothered and unrushed as he let his fingers trace down your body, before lining himself up with you.

It felt like someone had punched the air right out of your lungs as Carlos slid into you with little resistance. You could feel the stretch of him, it was making your mouth water as he filled you up the way you’d needed all night. He was still for a moment, catching his own breath as he gauged your face for a reaction. When you pulled him into a heavy kiss, mouth open and panting against him, he began to move.

Carlos dragged his hips back slowly, almost fully withdrawing from you before moving forward in one smooth motion. You could have sworn you could feel him everywhere, the pace tantalising. It was like you were laying on a bed of hot coals, not enough to burn you, but a steady heat that was stealing over your body and settling close to you. Your mind started to cloud, your only focus on the man above you and the way he was making you feel every detail of the moment.

“So tight for me,”

“Carlos,”

“You’re fucking perfect,” he all but purred, starting to increase his rhythm. Your nails were pressed into his shoulder blades. He moved with a little more force and your legs came up to wrap around his. Something in the angle he was hitting you changed, you cried out before you could stop yourself, your nails dragging hard down his back as you did so. Carlos gave a strained laugh.

“You like that, Princesa?” You were nodding weakly, as he continued to aim for the same place so the tension within you felt like a rubber band being stretched to its limit.

“Oh my god, Carlos,” he grasped one of your hands, tangling your fingers together and pinning it above your head, his face so close to yours you could pick out the gold flecks in his eyes. There was nothing smug in his expression, his brows knitted together in focus, eyes searching yours the whole time. You could feel the warmth of his lips he was so close, just hovering out of reach for a kiss.

“My name,” he paused to grunt as you contracted around him briefly, “Sounds so good from your mouth,” he was hitting you with a bruising point, the elastic band within you stretched so tight it was starting to fray. He finally ducked his head down, kissing you hard.

You all but screamed into his mouth, wave after wave of pleasure crashing over you as your orgasm hit, your entire body shaking violently with the force of it. Spots clouded your vision, Carlos’ hips stuttering against you with a strangled cry the only thing you could think of. You let out a broken sob, his name the only thing on your lips as he held you, letting you ride out the moment as the pair of you tumbled into oblivion.

Carlos let you down carefully, his hand running through your hair soothingly as you came back into your body. He was breathing heavily with the effects of his own high, but his entire focus was on you.

“Hey, look at me,” you managed to meet his eyes through your exhausted lids, a weak but satisfied smile on your lips.

“Hey,” you murmured. He gave you a sweet kiss.

“Hi,” you carded his hair through your fingers. You’d never noticed how soft it was. “You okay?” You nodded with a noise of confirmation. “You did so good,” you nodded again, your whole body heavy and spent as if you’d just run a marathon. You didn’t even want to know what time it was.

“That was-” you couldn’t even finish the sentence, a satisfied laugh replacing the words.

“Yeah,” Carlos agreed, finally satisfied you were well enough for him to move off of you. You felt the familiar tang of loss as he slid out of you, and made his way into the bathroom. Your mind was too hazy to form proper thoughts, so you laid there naked a little longer, thinking half-heartedly about where your clothes were.

Carlos reappeared in the doorway, his figure backlighted by the soft glow of the bathroom lights. He looked ethereal, and part of you couldn’t help but be furious with yourself for avoiding him for so long. You could have had this years ago. You hadn’t noticed Carlos was crouching in front of you again, watching you with a tenderness you’d not felt in a long, long time.

“Come on, Cariño,”

“Gimme a minute to call the taxi,” you mumbled starting to pat around pathetically for your phone. Carlos caught you, concern flashing across his face.

“Woah, no, no. I meant come for a bath,”

“Oh,” you giggled stupidly as he helped you to your feet, allowing you to grip his arm as you wobbled your way to the bathroom on jelly legs.

He sank into the water before you joined him. He pulled you so your back was pressed flush against his chest, gently scooping water over your skin. You leant back allowing yourself to revel in the feeling as he pressed kisses across your shoulder, the damp ends of his hair tickling you pleasantly.

“Don’t worry, Cariño, I’m not letting you go anywhere,”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

If you liked this check out my masterlist here

so this got...out of hand to say the least lol. but oh my god was it so much fun to write and got me out of the little blocky funk I've been in. flat spin fans don't panic I promise it is coming I've just been really struggling with this one scene and I needed something to keep the motivation going

AND NO IT'S NOT GETTING A PART TWO BEFORE ANYONE ASKS

also i had this idea about carlos being a previous one night stand and i just had to get it down

anyway, not much else to say from me. how do we feel about midday posts over nighttime ones??

lots of love <3

carlos tags: @imreallylosingit @serialkillertbh @sticksdoesart @lovingroscoee @agentsoybean @piceous21 @whosays75 @xscorpioxmoon @miahelen @j-brielmalfoy @honeybadger03 @teapartydreams @guccicloudz @nochillnell @timetoracewrites @rmaddenns @ruledchaos @isabellabrodar @ccloaned @ihearttheoriginals @tattered-tales @ferrarifwendvale @bradfordbantams @urbankaite2 @bobohumyonlyboo @zoobabystation @formulacads @hnmaga-blog @f1-incorrect-s @alicekepley @thembeforethea @mrscevans @nora-moon @sueesstuff @turningxstrange @luvrboygaslys @sgkophie @thembeforethea @jpotterdilf @dan3avacado @missxmericana @mall--e @ohthemisssery

#carlos sainz #carlos sainz x reader #carlos sainz imagine #carlos sainz jr #carlos sainz x you #carlos sainz fanfic #carlos sainz one shot #carlos sainz smut #f1 #formula one #smut #requested #silverstone 2022 #silverstone #british gp 2022 #carlos sainz win

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specialagentlokitty · 4 months

Text

Patrick Jane x reader - support

hiii!! could u write about reader and Patrick Jane? Where reader is dealing with personal issues and she’s stressed about it. Then her and Patrick are working on a case and is questioning a suspect then the suspect insults her and it makes her mad and she almost hits him and Patrick pulls her away and questions why she almost hit him and then she tells him why. I hope that made sense and thank you! - Anon💜

Dropping the file on the desk you sat down, running a hand down your face.

“Don’t even think about it Jane I’m not in the mood.” You said lowly.

He raised his hands, grinning a little as he sat down on the edge of your desk.

“No trouble this time I promise, Lisbon has a suspect for you. Given the suspects aversion to law enforcement and your patience and calmness we think you can get him to open up.”

“Is he here now?”

“Yup, just waiting, let’s go.”

Jane held his hand out to you with a charming smile and you took it so you could stand up.

Letting go you looked around the office before you gestured towards someone else’s desk.

“Grab their badge.”

“Now I could be wrong (Y/N), but I’m pretty sure taking an agents badge is just a tiny bit illegal.”

You rolled your eyes.

“Just go get it.”

With that, you walked away, heading to the interrogation room and you headed to the room next to it to begin watching your suspect.

Overall he wasn’t an impressive man, balding, he was small, didn’t seem very muscular to have done the damage to your victim but looks could be deceiving.

A minute later Jane came back.

“So, why do I need the badge?” He asked.

“The suspect hasn’t seen you yet, you’ve been here with me all day. Since he hates law enforcement it’s going to piss him off when he sees that there’s two of us in there.”

“Well that part I gathered, but I could’ve done that without it.”

“You don’t look like a cop that’s the issue, so just flash the badge then put it away he doesn’t need to see it.”

Jane nodded his head, and he opened the door, gesturing for you to go first and you did, entering the room.

You said nothing as you sat down and you studied the suspect for a moment.

“Is it fun for you to chase people around wielding a shotgun?” Jane asked.

The suspect scoffed.

“Stop wasting my time.”

“Well, you’re our top suspect, your shotgun matches the one we’re looking for and I’m sure if I get a warrant we’ll find it’s recently been fired.” You said.

The suspect snapped his eyes to you and narrowed them a little.

“What the hell are you?”

“Agent (L/N).”

“So, what are you his assistant or something?”

“Actually I’m her assistant.” Jane said.

The suspect looked between you two and Jane gestured for you to get up and follow him so you did.

He took you to the other side of the room, and he glanced at the suspect before turning to you.

“He has no respect for women..” he whispered.

“Clearly, that might work in our favour…”

Jane furrowed his brows a little bit.

“Take control of the interview he’s more likely to respond to you..”

“Right, okay.” He said.

Jane went back to the table and you followed sitting down.

You didn’t say much, you let Jane ask the questions and if he was stuck you would ask something and he’d repeat it to get an answer.

It was going well until the suspect turned his attention to you after checking his watch.

“Shouldn’t you be getting home, your husband won’t make his own dinner or fetch his own beer.”

“Excuse me?”

“Run along bitch, only men belong here.”

You stood up, and so did the suspect.

Jane quickly stood looking between the pair of you, he was really sure what to do.

“Have some respect.” Jane warned.

“I won’t respect someone like that.”

You had enough, you were angry as it was, and you stormed around the table.

You just saw red and you swung your fist, connecting with someone and you heard a thud of someone hitting the wall.

“Jeez, one hell of a punch…” Jane mumbled.

Your eyes shot open and you stared at your coworker.

Jane walked over, placing his free hand on your elbow, his other hand holding his nose.

“Let’s take a few…” he mumbled out.

He led you out of the room and he took you back to his desk before holding up a hand and vanishing.

You passed on the interview on to Rigsby and you went home for the day.

It wasn’t a good idea for you to be there and you needed to calm down, so you went home and got a shower before changing into some comfortable clothes and ordering food.

Sitting on the couch, you buried your head in your hands taking a few deep breaths to try and calm yourself and compose your emotions.

You heard your door open and closed and you slowly reached for you gun.

“Don’t shoot it’s me!”

Sighing, you set it back down.

“In here!” You called back.

Jane walked through and he pushed your stuff out the way to sit on the table in front of you.

“So, what happened in there? You’ve never once lost your temper like that before.” Jane said.

You sighed, leaning back on the couch and you looked at him. You could see the blood on his shirt, and the blooming bruise around his nose along with a small cut.

“I’m so sorry I hit you…”

“You weren’t aiming for me I got in the way, you can really throw a punch it’s amazing. But doesn’t answer my question.”

“I… I have some personal stuff going on..”

Jane got up, and he sat next to you.

“Let’s talk about it.”

You looked at him, and he gave you a warm smile and you sighed.

You explained everything to him that was going on and he held your hand as you did.

When you were done you cleared your throat and stood up, gesturing to his shirt.

“I’ll get that out I have a spare sweater hold on.”

You disappeared and Jane said nothing about it.

He didn’t want to pressure you about anything else and he knew your distraction was to find things to do, so he changed into the sweater and let you clean his shirt.

But he decided he was going to keep an eye on you because you needed the support and you wouldn’t ask for it

#the mentalist #the mentalist x reader #the mentalist x you #the mentalist imagine #Patrick Jane #Patrick Jane x reader #Patrick Jane x you #Patrick Jane imagine

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hanasnx · 7 months

Text

Kinktober: House of Amateurs - S1E6

MINORS DNI 18+

SUMMARY: october 6th | behind the scenes | the daring interviewer, zena daren, isn’t afraid to get her hands dirty and advertise krayt house’s first full-length pornographic series. the new frontier of breaking through this industry’s stigma is a challenge she’s up to face. joined by any member of the cast that’ll lend their mouth to the microphone, zena wants to know the answers to questions the people are too afraid to ask. WC: 0.5k | CHARACTERS: anakin skywalker, zena daren (oc) WARNINGS: no reader | adult film au | spoilers: episode 2 | mentioned: sexual content, adult film industry

KRAYT HOUSE M.LIST | NAVI | INBOX | @KRAYTHOUSE

“So, this is your first shot at a series, right?” Zena makes conversation, beginning with something light as she coolly crosses one leg over another in her pencil skirt.

Anakin, who sits across from her in casual attire, gently signals a single nod of his head with a long blink. It’s not the first time she’s encountered the legendary Anakin Skywalker, but his body language never ceases to surprise her. From way he acts on camera, and his well-endowed features, his posture here is remarkably flaccid.

She flips the pen in her hand, gripping the edge of her clipboard as she adjusts in her seat, engaging with him. “What made you take the job?”

He flashes a downturn of his lips, scratching the side of his nose. “Money. Needed a job.”

Zena raises her brows, his crude sense of humor— if it is humor— landing on her enough to curl the corners of her mouth. “This series is practically built around you, I’d imagine the kind of person to warrant that attention would be well-off, don’t you?”

“If that’s what you think.” he shrugs.

“You wanna know what I think?” Zena goads.

His expression shifts mild encouragement, gesturing with his hand to go on.

Zena pushes up her glasses by pinching the frames, eyeing him down through her brows. “You care more than you let on. Your platform is built, Mr. Skywalker, but your co-stars are relatively new to the scene. You’re using this and your name to give them publicity.”

He takes his time in moistening his lips, leaning back in his chair to hook the crook of his elbow over the back of it. Those famous, storming eyes bore into hers, yet neither she nor he wavers. He repeats himself, “If that’s what you think.”

Clearly, it’s a dead-end. He’s not one to crack, and she’s not sure which is the fake. His porn-star persona, or the uncaring personality who sits before her now. She chews the corner of his mouth, and moves on. She’ll get him to open up in other ways. “You know me, I have to be candid.” she warns as she relaxes into her seat.

“I prefer it.”

“This last week of episodes, which was your favorite to film?”

“I liked the girls in the shower.” he replies, his nonchalance towards subject matter most would find distasteful is appreciated. He won’t beat around the bush. His intense gaze holds her as he relays those words, and she sees why his co-stars often describe him as “intoxicating.” There’s a sensuality she can’t describe to his features, and his eyes draw her in. “I like when the attention’s on me.” Does he really?

“There was a lot of passion during foodplay.”

“Are you talking about how I ate cake from her mouth?” The way he says it betrays the fact he’s not ashamed, but he’s heard enough about that detail.

A smile tugs its way onto Zena’s features. “That’s the one.”

“What can I say?” he sighs, crossing his arms. Thick tendons folded together in a most pleasing manner. He’s got a beautiful body, and he seems proud of it. “The scene runs away with me sometimes.”

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oftenwantedafton · 3 months

Text

Moody and Gray - William Afton x Female Reader

Chapter 2

Rating - Explicit

Warnings - none for this chapter

Also available on AO3

Team building exercises are something else about your job that you despise.

You can’t fathom why the company insists on these types of activities; it’s just a gig at a restaurant, not a career. You don’t want to get to know any of the other employees any better than you already do. You know exactly which creeps to avoid, who you can borrow a tampon from, and which bitch is going to rat you out if you take an extra five minutes for break.

It’s like the corny videos you had to watch during orientation. Why are we pretending that anyone here is having fun? It’s work. It’s not supposed to be fun.

You really can’t take much more of this ‘reciting positive statements together’ nonsense like you’re in a child’s classroom. Your eyes dart around, trying to think up an excuse to slip away and escape this torture. They’re about to start a scavenger hunt. That’s as good a reason to go get lost somewhere as any.

You slip between the Employees Only doors and heave a sigh of relief. Much better. The voices beyond the closed doors grow more muffled as you make your way down the hall. It’s cold back here. Probably not properly heated. Cheap bastard. Speaking of which. Where was Mr. Afton, anyway? You’d seen him at the very beginning of the gathering and then he’d disappeared. He was probably brooding in his office or something. Whatever.

Don’t think about the way his hands feel on you. Or that voice. Definitely not that.

You’re about to pass the staff restrooms when you pause. Well, fuck it, you might as well hit the John. You hate having to use the public ones for the customers. You cannot find a single reasonable explanation for why so many unsavory things end up in so many different places. The floor, okay, yeah, guys can’t aim for shit. But the walls? In the girls’ room? Gross. People were slobs.

You tug on the female restroom door and meet resistance. It’s locked? Well, okay. Men’s room it is.

There’s a single stall and a sink. It actually blessedly doesn’t smell like piss in here and the floor isn’t sticky.

You’re just about to pull the stall door open when you realize the room is already occupied.

“Sorry, man. I’ll wait outside.” You turn to leave and a familiar voice freezes you in your tracks.

“I’ll be out in just a moment.” Fuck. No fucking way was it Mr. Prim and Proper with his stupid purple vest and his gorgeous hands, why did his even look like that anyway, the fingers long and slender, elegant, deft in their movements and fuck you’re doing it again, don’t think about it…

The toilet flushes and the stall door opens and yes, it is indeed the owner and yes, he does have his stupid purple vest on that makes his shoulders look broad and his waist narrow and for fuck’s sake can you just have a session with your vibrator so you’re not this thirsty at God damn work of all places?

“I assume you’re aware this is the men’s room,” he says, pushing past you— the room was rather small, it was surely warranted—and begins lathering his hands at the sink. Those stupid fucking warm agile hands.

“The ladies’ room was locked.”

“Was it? Hmmm.” He begins rinsing his hands.

“Why aren’t you at that stup—the team building thing?”

You see his teeth flash as his eyes meet yours in the mirror. “Well, for one thing, I’m the owner and I can do whatever I want. For another…” He shuts off the faucet and tears a couple of paper towels from the dispenser, taking his time to dry each finger individually. You always end up leaving after a hasty pat with your hands still half soaked. “…Why aren’t you at the ‘stupid team building thing’ as you so eloquently phrased it?”

“I…I had to use the restroom.”

“Indeed. Which you’ve still neglected to do.”

“I mean, we’re in the middle of talking. It would be kind of rude.”

“What part are they up to?”

“Scavenger hunt.”

“Ah. Well, that one’s not quite so bad. What are you supposed to be searching for?”

“Tokens.”

“Well, that’s easily solved. I always carry some with me.” He reaches into his pocket and withdraws a handful of bronze colored coins etched with the Freddy Fazbear logo. You hold out your hand, thinking he’ll just drop them there, but of course he doesn’t. Of course he presses them into your palm, and they’re warm from his body heat, where they’ve been tucked snugly against his thigh.

“Uh…thanks,” you mutter awkwardly, shoving them into your own pants pocket.

“That’s not the shirt I lent you the other day,” William murmurs.

“No,” you agree quietly.

“You haven’t worn it again since.”

“I…” How did he know? You’ve barely seen him since last week and only at a distance. “It was a little small.”

“I think it fit rather well, myself.” He grins at you. Predatory. Feral. The pale gray eyes go dark as his pupils dilate. He pushes past you again, this time letting his fingers drag across your bare arm as he leaves.

The door swings closed and you let out the breath you’ve been holding.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

***

You’ve never thought it fair that the employees who smoke get so much extra time to leave the floor. They weren’t supposed to get more than two trips per shift but you knew for a fact people abused the fuck out of that.

It kind of makes you want to take up the habit yourself just to use it as an excuse to get away from the kids and the puke and the bellowing prerecorded voices of the animatronics.

Tonight you decide fuck it, you’re going outside, winter or not. You need fresh air. You need to get the smell of undigested ice cream out of your nostrils.

You shrug into your coat, a second hand puffer that’s lost most of the puff and is more just a shell of nylon. A blast of cold air greets you as you emerge from the rear of the building.

You wrap your arms around yourself, watching your breath cloud the air in front of your face.

“I don’t suppose you have a lighter on you?”

Your head snaps in the direction of the sound. It’s Mr. Afton.

“No, sorry. I don’t smoke.”

“Hang on. Maybe I’ve got one in my…there’s a rip in one of the pockets…there it is.” He withdraws the lighter—purple, of course—from the depths of a long black wool dress coat and ignites the end of the cigarette, taking a deep drag and exhaling before dropping the lighter back into his pocket. “If you’re not a smoker, why are you in the designated employee smoking area?”

“I don’t know. I just…I needed some air. One of the kids puked in there.”

“Children do vomit often, yes.” Another inhale and exhale.

“I didn’t know you smoked.”

“When the mood strikes me. A way to relieve stress. You know how it is.” His head tips to regard you thoughtfully. “Maybe you should try it, Moody.”

“My name’s not…oh.” Your cheeks flush. He was teasing you now. Great. “It’s bad for you.”

He sighs impatiently. “Lots of things in this world are bad for you. If you live hard and fast by that rule you’re never going to enjoy life.” He flicks the end of the cigarette with his thumb, sending a cloud of spark lit ashes to the pavement. “Why do you work here?”

You shuffle your feet, trying to generate some warmth. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, why…do…you…work…here?” With each word he steps closer to you, now standing in front of you.

You shrug. “It’s just a job. A way to make ends meet.”

“Exactly. So why not pick another one if you’re so miserable here?”

Your eyes shift from your employer’s tense gaze. There’s a piece of lint on his shoulder that’s driving you mad.

“There must be a reason.” Another drag. He sends the smoke to the side so he doesn’t douse you with it.

“I…I like someone,” you reply evasively.

The tall man barks a short laugh. “Seriously? That’s the reason you’re sticking around? Because you have a crush on one of the other staff members?”

You’re regretting your decision to come outside more and more with each passing second. “It’s not a crush,” you protest.

“Oh? What would you call it, then?” He looks positively smug.

“I could report you for harassment.” The words escape before you can rethink them. “For what happened last week, in your office.” You’re irritated. He has no right to mock you.

“Now why would you want to do that?” The amusement is gone from his lips. He stares hard at you, the lit end of his neglected cigarette burning more and more of the paper. “Since we both know it wasn’t harassment.” He drops the cigarette and grinds it underneath his heel before advancing even closer. You’re backed up against the wall behind you. There’s nowhere left to go. “Because it can’t very well be harassment when you beg for it, can it?” He rests a hand on the brick and mortar behind you. You can smell the ash on him, heavy on his breath and threaded in his coat and laced in his hair.

“I didn’t beg.”

“Not with words.” He chews his bottom lip. “Who’s your crush on?”

You shake your head, refusing to answer but maintaining your boss’ gaze.

“Who’s the reason you’re staying here?”

Relentless. He was never going to let this drop. You’ll still be pinned against the wall come summer at this rate. “You.”

You’re not sure what you’d expected for a response to that confession. A wry twist of lips or another laugh, maybe.

Certainly not his mouth crushing against yours, giving you your first taste of nicotine.

#william afton x you #william afton x reader #william afton #fnaf fanfic

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ecoamerica · 24 days

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youtube

Watch the American Climate Leadership Awards 2024 now: https://youtu.be/bWiW4Rp8vF0?feature=shared

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oh-ranpo · 2 years

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king of the world

☾ - pairing: leona kingscholar x reader ☾ - word count: 1.1k+ ☾ - summary: leona just wants to nap, but you have a way of being a little too distracting.

“What are you doing?”

The low growl startled you out of your thoughts as you turned your head towards the voice. Your mind had been otherwise preoccupied as you stared at the notebook in your lap and you hadn’t even noticed that your right hand had started to wander. That is, not until you focused in on the feeling of soft hair beneath your fingertips and your eyes met the confused, and slightly annoyed, gaze of your boyfriend next to you.

Leona had been dozing while you were studying, and you hadn’t even realized that you had started to run your fingers through his hair while your mind drifted off to alchemy formulas and spell techniques. It was never your intention to wake him, but as your fingers brushed along the ridge of his ear, you could imagine how it might have startled him back to consciousness.

“I’m sorry,” you murmured as embarrassment washed over you. You hated to admit how relaxing it was for your fingers to twirl around his long, brunette strands and how it helped keep you grounded and focused. But you knew that Leona hated being disturbed from his naps, even if it was by your gentle, caressing touch. “I didn’t mean to disturb your nap.”

Emerald irises regarded you now as the annoyance had slipped from his expression and you felt yourself relax just a bit. Despite your apology, you still hadn’t stopped running your fingers through his locks, and he hadn’t said anything else that might warrant a complete cease and desist. In fact, a small smile appeared to be tugging at the corner of his lips as you slowly brushed along his ear again and your nails scratched gently against his scalp.

Imagine your surprise when, in response, you heard a small purr rip through your boyfriend’s throat as his eyes fluttered shut. Your eyes widened as it was a sound that you had never heard before, and it only took approximately 2.5 seconds before he realized what had happened and his eyes were snapping open once again.

“What was tha-“

“You didn’t hear anything.”

His tone was lacking any type of malice as he sat up on his arms, his cheeks turning a dark red as he gently pushed your hand away from his head. Ultimately, you knew that he had been enjoying your ministrations, and from the noise that he had made, he had also managed to play his entire hand for you to see. He could act all resigned and tough all he wanted, but you knew better. The thought made you smile.

“I can keep going if you’d like,” you grinned, your hand slowly moving back towards the top of his head, only to be halted in mid-air as his hand wrapped around your wrist. His green eyes finally met yours once more and you could see a hint of reservation in them. Everything about your relationship was new territory for him, and you were sure that giving away his emotions in the way that he just had was a lot for him. However, you were here to nurture those feelings and help them bloom, that way he could see and recognize just how cared for he was. “Leona, there is nothing for you to be ashamed of. So, you purred? Who cares-“

“I said, you didn’t hear anything.” With a quick twist of his body, he was soon on top of you, one hand still wrapped around your wrist as he pinned it over your head. For someone that had just been sound asleep, he moved with a quickness and agility that always managed to take your breath away.

There was a flash of warning in his eyes, as if daring you to press him, but the smile on your face only grew as you knew that you were in no imminent danger. His pride was bruised just a bit, but you knew him better than he thought you did.

“Whatever my King says.”

The use of the nickname threw him off as his eyes widened and his hold on your wrist tightened just a bit. It wasn’t the first time he had heard it, and you could tell by that flash in his eyes that he enjoyed it. The purring incident forgotten, there was a new cause to the flush of his cheeks as he used his free hand to swipe your notebook from your lap so that he could press closer to you.

Leona had always suffered from the idea that he wasn’t wanted. Being the second born with no real claim to the throne of his kingdom, he felt… lost. He had the desire to be a leader, but that was often masked under his perceived indifference and laziness when it came to school. However, hearing you call him your ‘king’ and taking in the fond look that you gave him while you said it had a new desire building inside of him that he wasn’t quite sure how to tame on his own.

When he looked at you now, he didn’t think about the kingdom that he would never rule. He didn’t think of those years being cast aside in favor of his brother or how he had longed just to be recognized for his greatness. No, instead, he saw a whole new world that he had been handed the power to reign over. He saw everything he had ever hoped for right in front of him, and it knocked the air from his lungs as he realized what you were offering - what you had always been offering - in exchange for nothing but his affection.

Why settle for a kingdom when he could rule over the whole damn world? That’s what you were to him, anyways.

With the hand that wasn’t pinned by his, you lifted to cup his cheek, easily pulling him from the thoughts that ravaged his brain and bringing him back to the present. He couldn’t help but lean into your soft touch before lowering his head to nuzzle against your neck. The fire that had started inside of him in embarrassment had fizzled as a new flame burst forth in his chest. He could feel your pulse quicken against his lips and the soft sigh that filled his ears was the sweetest sound that he had ever heard.

“I thought you wanted to nap,” you murmured breathlessly as he continued to trail love bites across your neck, applying just enough graze of his teeth to have you arching into him.

“You were the one that woke me up,” he replied quickly, his hot breath fanning across your collarbone, causing you to shiver. “Now, you have to deal with me.”

He knew that you were smiling, and you could envision his smirk in your mind as you pushed your free hand back into his hair. As much as you needed to study, you weren’t going to complain about this particular study break.

“Whatever my King wants.”

#leona kingscholar #leona kingscholar x reader #leona kingscholar fic #leona kingscholar imagine #leona kingscholar story #leona kingscholar fluff #leona kingscholar twst #twst leona #twisted wonderland fic #twister wonderland imagine #twisted wonderland story #twst fic #twst imagine #twst fluff #twst story

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covencupid · 1 year

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I Want You (The Cabin Story) Chapter Three

Next chap already because I kept y'all waiting.

Fair warning, this one's different.

Danny's had his eye on you. He's been finding himself enjoying the times he interacts with you a little too much. He's got to get you out of his system. A little house call. Once that's done it'll be easier for him to go for the kill. Right?

Pairing: Danny Johnson X Fem!Reader. Use of gendered language.

TW/CW: The usual (stalking, manipulation, threats of violence, actual violence) gore, descriptions of torture, corpses, and murder. Psychological horror, child murder (imma need you to hold your judgement on this one, it's not what you think, but it's also not good), hallucinations, descriptions of visual hallucinations.

Tags will be updated as needed, but to be honest I kinda forgot what I put in this.

It's always the fuckin' woods, man.

Shorter chapter, but the one that leans into the warnings the most. Also the one that warrants the psychological/supernatural horror tag. Dead Dove: Do Not Eat. Though I, personally, don't think I made it too bad, if you are not comfortable with anything that involves violence against children, heed my warning.

Daddy Issues? More like Danny Issues.

Your Place // The Cabin // The Woods

~I Want You~

Chapter Three: The Woods

The first hours of his departure were filled by exploring his bookcase. Mostly horror, some non-fiction, books on social sciences, forensic journals, various textbooks. You plucked a book from the middle shelf. “The Hellbound Heart” by Clive Barker. You decided to sit on the breakfast table, a nice view of the back yard, or really forest. As the hours of the day bled into night you found yourself immersed in the hellish world of the cenobites, and the twisted love affair between the once-human Frank and Julia, his brother’s wife. As you you flipped the page, out of your periphery you thought you saw something move in the woods. Looking up, you are met with trees and a dense thicket, now shrouded in the dark. The moonlight made shapes on the leaves. Oh we’re scaring ourselves now, this book is good. You went back to your place on the page. Reading a few lines, your attention is brought to a fuzzy, vague shape in the fringes of your vision, outside the window. Your eyes shoot up, nothing. Ok, no. You looked down at your book, not reading. Your eyes were on the page but your concentration was on the faint, blurry image, just above the book. You saw the shrubs sway. Your eyes locked on the scene outside. They couldn’t move, stuck staring until you weren’t really seeing what you were looking at. The trees began to swirl, and the ground waved as though blown by the wind. Your vision blurred slightly, triggering you to blink rapidly. The world outside looked normal again. Nothing. It’s branches moving in the wind, and the fact that you’re in the middle of the forest. It’s a recipe for the creeps. Just focus on the real horror, in the book.

Jumping back into the book, you were able to read a few pages until you were certain you saw an arm reaching out from between the trees. Was it an arm? You couldn’t be sure what exactly it was. You doubted the strength of your peripheral vision before, but you knew you saw something this time. You abandoned the book on the table. Eyes locked on window you walked toward the back door. Gripping the doorknob, you slammed the door open, hoping the loud crash would scare anyone out there trying to scare you. Staring into the trees a little deeper in, a bit too far for you to really be sure, a flash of white passed between the trunks. You took a step back, ready to run into the cabin when you heard it.

“Hello? Please? Help me, please!” a small, scared voice trickled into the clearing. A desperate whisper, “Please I just want my mama,” a little girl. Timpani drums echoed in your throat. You inched closer to the tree line.

“Can you hear me? Where are you? Are you hurt?” You heard the rush of wind shaking the leaves. A beat.

“My legs hurt. I want my mama” you heard the girl wail. She sounded close enough to be clear, yet it seemed like distance filtered her voice through the thicket. Maybe she was hiding. You could only imagine, a little girl lost and alone in the woods. You were about to step in when you remembered Danny’s words, but you weren’t going to run. There’s a child that needs help. You had never heard of the Ghostface killing children. He’d have to understand. Swallowing your heartbeat, you went into the trees.

Walking through the trees felt like pushing through a crowd. The underbrush's spindly limbs unfurled to grope at your ankles. Your legs pulled at the vines. There was no sign of the girl.

"Hey! If you can hear me, try to follow my voice!" No response. You had heard about how disorienting the woods can be. Imagining a small child trying to make their way through the woods made your heart tug towards the deeper parts of the wood. You'd have a better chance of making out the way through, you knew where the cabin was. All you had to do is find the girl and get her inside. Then maybe once Danny comes back he can go and find help for her.

"Hello? Can you hear me?" No response, but maybe you heard crying? It was hard to tell, you'd have to get closer.

"It's gonna be okay! We're gonna find your mom, but I need to find you first. Can you hear me?" The cabin was fading away from view in the background, but you couldn't tell. You were determined to find the girl. The sobbing grew a little stronger, not louder. You heard it carry in the wind. You closed your eyes, turning your head on a swivel, trying to ascertain exactly where the crying came from. To the left? The wind made it feel like your ears were being cupped. The sound of the ocean roaring through. No, the crying sounded like further right. You stepped closer. You heard the girl cry out.

"My head hurts! I want mama!" The girl's words came as long drawn-out wails. You ran to where you heard the voice call out. You heard it getting louder, you had to be close. Your legs tore through the thin vines and prickly weeds.

"I'm going to you, just stay put!" you called out. The girls cries increased in intensity. You heard the girl break out into a blood curdling scream. Shit.

"I'm almost there!" The girls cries filled the forest, her voice surged through the leaves, filling every empty space with her sorrow and fear. It was getting harder to tell exactly where it was coming from. Just when you were feeling turned around you saw a small figure crouched over something. The underbrush making it hard to make out what it way. You heard soft crying. You drew near with all the trepidation of trying to approach a frightened deer.

"Hey, it's okay. I'm gonna get you somewhere safe." The air chilled and the wind picked up like her cries directed the strength of the gale. Nearing the girl all the blood drained from your body. The girl was cowering over the body of a woman, pale and gaunt. Words stuck to your throat. Thick molasses coated your tongue and slowed your speech.

The girl sobbed over the body, "Mama my head hurts." A strained noise is the only thing that escaped you. The girl stopped crying and the forest was still. Turning her head towards you, liquid fear replaced the blood in your veins. Your eyes first locked on her cheekbone, exposed and bright. Above it a hollowed out place that once held her eye. The side of her skill looked like it had been chipped away. Brain matter mated with moss. Slow-moving worms spilled out from the hole of her eye. As they fell your attention was brought to her jaw. It fell slack as if threatening to tear from her head. She choked and sputtered blood. Drops fell onto the woman on the forest floor. The woman's eyes looked straight into the sky, her jaw hanging low to the side, a perpetual scream. You wanted to open your mouth up wide to match theirs and howl out. Soft crunching sounds brought your attention back on the woman. The little girl was standing now and the woman's body arched, trying to reach her.

"Mama needs help." The little girl's voice came from behind your ear. The little girl took a step forward and her mother let out a gurgling groan as she writhed, lifting herself up. They were going to approach you. The ice that locked your feet to the ground finally released you. You broke into a sprint, wanting to put as much distance from whatever it was that you saw. You tried to orient yourself as you ran. The trees appeared to sway.

You didn't know how far you had run, the ache in your legs was starting to give way to fatigue. It felt like the structure of your legs was beginning to break down. Ahead of you, you saw it again. A wisp of pale white between the trees. No. No. It can't be. They were far behind you, you were sure of it. You took a few quick steps in reverse, disbelief making you feel woozy. The heel of your shoe caught on a root of a tree, knocking you onto your back. Pain shot from the base of your skull radiating down your spine. When your eyes shot open you were met with a tall dark figure looming over you. A trickle of relief washed over you and fled before you were able to hold onto it. You thought it was Danny, it almost looked like him, tall and broad. The figure leaned to hover over you. Your eyes met with the black pits in this man's skull. His face, beyond rotting, looks like it was stuck in stunned silence. The holes in his head looked through you. You felt your muscles being pulled into the ground by some force of gravity, the thicket would swallow you hole. The rotted man stuck out a hand, holding a stone the size of a baseball. As if pulled by an invisible hand, your jaw forced itself open. Your tongue desperately waggled in your mouth. You retched. Screams died in your throat the way they do in dreams. Let this all be a dream. A terrible nightmare. You felt the stone tap against your teeth. The taste of salt met your tongue. Thick, sweet grass rooted into your taste buds. Warm tears spilled at the side of your face. Death above you straightened and lifted his boot, heel pointed to your jaw, to hover over your head. He was going to force the rock down your throat. As if broken from a trance, you tore away from the ground, spitting the rock from your teeth and rolling to the side in time for the man's boot to come down on the ground. Your head whipped back as you began to run away, but the dark figure was already gone. Endless trees surrounded you. You tried to make out the cabin through the trees, but you couldn't be sure on which direction to go. You wanted to be anywhere but here, you wanted to be back inside the warm walls of the cabin. You wanted to learn how to carve the bunny, and read all the books Danny had. You wanted Danny, you wanted to be wrapped in his arms. Feeling a deep pit of despair, you fell to your knees clutching the trunk of a tree. You cried, wishing it was his chest you could lean against.

It took a moment for Danny to realize he was humming to himself. He was feeling really pleased with himself. Tonight would be an unforgettable night for them. Danny had spent the better part of the day scoping out the location for his little date. It was almost too perfect. The local drive-in was going to be playing a special showing of "The Lonelies", a campy slasher movie from the 70's that he saw the girl had on her shelf. He could already see the girls eyes light up. You had to get tickets to park, but the sound came from a local radio frequency. Danny didn't need tickets, he'd be giving her the best view in town. Overlooking the drive in was a a steep cliff, inaccessible to the general public. A couple years back he had stumbled upon the vista after taking some backroads a mile out from the cabin. The road he took up was technically private property, but it didn't matter to Danny knowing he put the owner quietly in the ground two years back. A recluse living off the land, no one ever came looking.

Pulling up to the drive, Danny almost felt giddy. He hoped she'd have a dress on, something to show off her legs and give him immediate access to her thighs. But when Danny walked into the cabin he felt the cold emptiness of her absence. No. He burst through the bedroom, hoping he'd startle the girl as she readied herself. Empty. "Lying bitch." Rage coursed through him. Fury was burning into the marrow of his bones. He was going to make her pay, make her hurt for every lie she told him. Oh please oh please Mr. Ghostface. I didn't mean it. Only cure for a liar, take the tongue.

Danny noticed the back door cracked open. Stupid bitch, leaving her little breadcrumbs. Danny walked back out into the cool night air. A soft breeze moved the leaves. It was quiet. Danny walked into the trees. As if sensing his presence, the faint breeze stifled into stillness. The forest held it's breath. On the ground, he saw where the forest floor was recently been disturbed. She ran through here. His form cut through the trees as if they parted just for him.

He felt eyes on him. He turned to face nothing. The deeper in the woods he got the more he felt the resentment rise in his chest. Here I am like some sorry fucking clown. Making me believe her. I asked for one thing. Though he was very much infuriated by her escape, the fact that he had let his guard down enough for her to manipulate him made him seethe with wrath. That's what you get for going soft on her. She fucking played you like a drum, idiot. I should've wrung her neck when I had my hands on it. He wouldn't make that mistake again. He wouldn't let her talk her way into his good graces. She walked herself out of the cabin and into a grave. She could've had it easy, could've been taken care of. She ruined it. He'd ruin her. Carve out her still beating heart and show it to her. Squeeze the muscle in his fist and watch the life drain from her scared little rabbit eyes.

A gust of air rolled in, pushing the leaves on the forest floor out as if leading his way. Danny felt compelled to follow. As he walked their path he heard muffled sobbing. He followed the sound. As it grew louder he eyed something crumpled low to the ground by a tree. He saw rounded shoulders shuddering. Caught. He approached slowly, allowing the sound of her sobs to cover his footsteps. Pulling his hunting knife from its sheath, the moonlight glinted on the blade. Maybe he'd grab her by the hair, put the knife to her throat and show her real fear. He was so close. Danny inched forward, a twig snapped as she was catching her breath. alerting her. Her head snapped back, face red from crying. Her face would soon split in terror, she got up to run. He gripped his knife tighter, he was ready for the chase.

The girl crashed her body into his, holding him with a ferocity he had not expected. His arms were held frozen hovering over his sides. She's sobbing into his chest. What is this, regret? It's too late for tha-

"It was awful, Danny. I- I'm so scared. I t-t-thought she was hurt, I just w-wanted to help. I don't know what ha-happ- she looked so- she was with a woman. She was dead, they were both dead, I know they are, but she was crying, and her skull was crushed, Danny I could see inside." Her sobs wracked his chest. He could feel the spot on his shirt that her tears made damp. Danny stood frozen. "She was a baby, Danny. And her mother- sh-she had h-her mouth op-" She was gripping him hard, he felt her fingers tremble from the force. "H-he was gonna d-do the same to me." Danny's veins ran cold. "He p-put the rock- he made he hold it in my mouth, I couldn't move, I couldn't- I wanted to scream. H-his boot c-c-came over me-" Danny held her tight. The feeling of his embrace making her collapse. He held her steady as her sobs turned to wails. Her whole body shook and Danny felt her fear reach into him. Danny sheathed his knife, using the same hand he had planned to gut her with to smooth her hair. Danny stared straight into the woods. He wanted to see him. He wanted to lock eyes again with him and send him back to hell like he did once before. Even in death, his old man found ways to haunt him. Instead he looked away, down at his little bunny. Frightened beyond measure, clinging to him for comfort, for safety. She hadn't tried to leave him, his father's ghosts drew her out.

"I wanna go back, I don't wanna be out here." She was looking up at him, eyes overflowing with tears. Danny kissed the top of her head, he smelled the wet ground mixed with her scent.

"It's okay. We're going back to the cabin, okay? Can you walk?" Danny led her to take a step. Her legs wobbled. "That's fine. I got you." Danny hoisted her up into his arms and carried her out of the woods.

When they got to the cabin she still would not let go. He let her legs down gently, but her hands still held tight around his neck.

"Can we go somewhere else, please?" she whimpered. Danny carefully tipped her chin up to look her in the eyes, puffy and irritated. He wiped her remaining tears with his thumb.

"Yeah, I'll take you somewhere nice, huh? Why don't you go get dressed?" She looked at the bedroom door and back to him.

"Come with me." She wasn't asking, but her big pleading eyes begged him to follow her.

"Okay."

Danny stared at the point in the wall where the wood boards met. He was sitting on the edge of the bed while the girl got dressed. On any other night, Danny would’ve savored the opportunity to watch her change into something for him. Danny stared into the wall, beyond it, watching as his mind made the lines of the wood swirl. Danny was in the woods again. He remembers the girl and her mother. He had picked up food for himself, his father would be out. Turning into the drive he saw his father’s car, engine on, with the passenger door wide open. When he got out of his truck he heard the screams. It came from the “hunting ground”, as his old man called it. He wasn’t supposed to be back until the next day. He found someone early, then. Danny went out back to the entrance of the woods. A succession of raw, stilted, cries rang out. He had probably opened their jaw. As he neared the sound he saw his father’s boot come down on the head of a young woman. Her cry cut off by the crunch of her jaw. When her crying stopped, another started. Smaller, shrill, a child’s. She had to be no older than five. His father hadn’t noticed him yet. If he did he’d make the girl run and have Danny go after her. Danny crouched down low, ducking behind a tree. He heard the little girl sob. She was crying for her mother, her wail increasing in pitch. “Your mama’s fine, we’re only playing.” his father mocked. “Now it’s your turn.” He heard the shuffling of leaves. The girl cried as she spoke, “No, I want mama. I don’t wanna play.” He heard his father bark out a laugh. It echoed through the woods. “You play this game, you get to go back home to your mama, sound good?” He spoke low, a conspiratorial whisper. Danny realized he was holding his breath. His instinct, lest his father sense his heart beating. The girl whimpered in response. “It’s a lot like tag, first thing you gotta do is run.” At first he heard nothing, then the skittering of little steps bolting deep into the forest. He heard his father stretch with a groan. He was waiting to give her distance, to give her hope. His father broke into a sprint. She never had a chance. He hears the hope drain from wailing cry. When he’s certain his father has gone far between the trees, Danny rises from his spot. He walks back into the cabin, the girl’s wailing mocking him, taunting him for his cowardice.

“How does this look?” Danny is back in the present, the wall no longer moving. He turned face her. His breath is caught, this time in admiration. She’s wearing a short, black button-down dress. There’s a slight pattern in the fabric, almost visible. It had a mesh fabric on what was maybe silk. the sleeves were short, barely covering her shoulders. The neckline plunging slightly to give him a good look down her dress. “So you like it?” Her head cocked slightly, a coy little smile playing on her lips. It was good to see her smiling again.

“Yes, I do.”

#ghostface x you #ghostface x reader #dbd ghostface x reader #ghostface dbd #danny johnson x y/n #danny johnson smut #danny johnson x reader #danny johnson #danny jed olsen johnson #dbd ghostface #dead by daylight #Spotify

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