#they haven’t said anything to my face at least
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Part 2!
Finally finished moving house so hopefully I’ll be updating semi-regularly again.
Content: brief and non-descriptive explanation of Rasputin’s backstory (injury and illness)
Agatha is over again.
You don’t know why. She doesn’t like you, your cats, or anything as far as you can tell. It seems her primary motivation for talking to you at all is to exercise her role as neighborhood matriarch. She “keeps tabs” on everyone, but especially you - the unmarried woman living alone that keeps odd hours.
A rebellious part of you wants to roll your eyes and make snarky comments whenever she sniffs at your life choices. The same part of you that would make scenes at holiday dinners or slam doors when you were a teenager. That girl has long been smoothed and polished - or maybe just worn down. It’s so much effort to make rude, nosy, traditionalists clutch their pearls. Much easier to smile in their face and do what you want anyway.
Still, that part of you itches at the surface sometimes. Makes your eye twitch.
“I know your generation is different but that’s just not the type of neighborhood we live in,” she’s saying.
You’re a bit foggy from a late night patching plotholes and haven’t registered much of anything she’s said. You really just want to go inside and stare at the TV until words make sense again.
“What do you mean?” you ask, for once not feigning your confusion. But of course this is the one time she doesn’t buy it.
She looks down her frail little nose at you, cornflower blue eyes baleful. You don’t feel scolded, but you sense that you’re supposed to.
“Now you know just what I mean. People will talk.”
People always talk, it’s an unfortunate byproduct of the human condition. Like a deaf bird, you’ve never understood all the chatter.
“Talk about… the buttercups?” you wonder, pointing at the blossoms. You’re quite proud of them actually.
Agatha puffs up and hisses out a breath. “You ought to keep to this side of the street. Away from those men.”
You blink. Men…?
A bang comes from across the street, followed by rough German cursing. (At least you think it’s cursing.)
Ah. Those men.
“I was just welcoming them to the neighborhood.”
It comes out of your mouth automatically, innocent excuses for something you remind yourself you don’t need to justify.
“I’d rather they didn’t feel welcome,” she snips. “Better they sell that awful house and go somewhere else.”
You flick your eyes over her bony shoulder. Konig passes by a window, massive biceps on display as he lifts something outside of view.
“They’re nice,” you say. Nice to look at. Krueger’s face alone quite makes up for his conversational shortcomings.
“The only reason men like that act nice is because they want something,” Agatha snaps. “This is a respectable neighborhood.”
Yeah, soooo respectable when Bertram rifles through your mail or Lisa looks into your backyard.
“Well,” you muse, “better to be on good terms with them, I think. They're not the type you want to piss off.”
That defiant streak lights up at the way her face sours. If only she knew what sort of words you use when it’s just you and the cats.
“You’ve just proven my point. Those are not the type of men young ladies should associating themselves with.”
You have to try very hard not to scrunch up your face. One blessed day, people will stop referring to you as “young lady” in that insufferably condescending tone. You can’t wait for that day.
Some of your mounting irritation must show on your face because she takes on a sickly sweet “teaching” tone.
“Neighborhoods are like gardens. Everything grows best when the rows are kept separate. That’s why the farmers plant them that way.”
You glance pointedly at your own yard, where the flowers are blooming in haphazard sprigs wherever you tossed the seeds. Agatha’s lips get thin.
“Best that you stay on this side of the street, missy. That’s the last I’ll hear of it.”
She spins on her heel and stalks off like a particularly drab bird. You stand on your porch for a second longer, face contorted in annoyed confusion. You don’t even have strong feelings about the three men; the simple act of someone - Agatha of all people - labeling them as “Off Limits” makes them instantly more appealing.
Maybe you should see someone about that or something. Then the pathetic cries of Guy through the window lure you back inside.
It’s nearly sundown when there’s a knock at your door. Still agitated from your talk with Agatha, you puff up like Shithead when Rasputin sits on her favorite toy. March up to the door, fling it open - and come up short when you see the three men looming on your doorstep.
Before you can recover, a little gray blob scrambles past your ankles, crying like the sky is falling.
“Oh!” Konig gasps in pleasant surprise. “Hallo, Bubchen!”
And all 6-foot-plus of Austrian instantly folds to scoop Guy up. You’ve barely managed a now-useless shout of alarm when Shithead wedges her fat head between your calves. Behind you, Rasputin politely screeches his little chainsmoker call.
And somehow, in the chaos of fumbling for furballs, you end up with all three men in your foyer.
Guy is purring away in Konig’s thick arms. Shithead is attempting to scale Krueger’s tight cargo pants. And Rasputin is pawing the air at Nikto, visibly calculating the jump to his wide shoulders.
Which leaves you with the clean serving platter you dropped off just yesterday. You blink at it for a moment, then glance at them.
“So… the cookies were good then?”
“Very good!” Konig rushes to say. Krueger and Nikto each nod, almost comically solemn.
“We have no baking or cooking skills,” Krueger continues, “so tell us what needs fixing.”
It takes you a moment to understand what he means. The house. He wants to fix your house. It’s surprisingly sweet, and you laugh a bit, shaking your head. “You don’t need to do that, I was just-“
“Is custom,” Nikto interrupts.
Konig nods with all the enthusiasm of a bobblehead as Krueger crosses his arms. (Whatever effect he’s going for is ruined by Shithead clinging to his pocket and screaming.)
“In our country, we bring gifts as guests. Our gift is repairs,” he explains.
You arch your brows playfully. “I don’t remember inviting you to be guests.”
He arches his brows right back. “We did not invite you either.”
Well shit.
“Okay, okay. I guess there’s a couple things…”
Konig perks up. “We would be happy to help, Biene!”
It’s strange having men in the house. You think you should be more nervous about it, can’t remember the last non-family man allowed into your space. Especially alone.
There’s a sharp awareness, of course. Hard not to be aware of them. It’s not just that they’re big, dwarfing all of your you-sized furniture. There’s a presence to them, something felt but not seen by your untrained eye. Maybe it’s in the set of their shoulders, the way they stand with both boots firmly planted. Maybe it’s the precise way they speak and move, not just separately but as a unit. Acting more like a collective consciousness than as individuals.
Whatever it is, you couldn’t ignore them if you tried. And you’re definitely not trying.
You set Krueger to work on the kitchen cabinet you’ve been meaning to replace. He clicks his tongue at the tape-and-lean method you’ve been using to keep the old one in place. Shithead immediately sets to work helping by gnawing at his shoelaces.
Konig is stationed in the guest bathroom, where the sink doesn’t run right. Guy comes mewing into your arms when he’s set down, effectively tattling that his new friend is mean and awful for withholding affection for even a moment.
You try not to visibly hesitate when you corner yourself in your own laundry room. Nikto has followed you right in, seemingly unaware that he’s invading your personal space. He’s not even looking at you though, eyes zeroed in on the dryer you point to.
“It’s not heating up, so the clothes stay wet or take forever to dry,” you explain.
He grunts in acknowledgement, then nods to Rasputin, who has taken up residence on the washer. His one golden eye blinks slow and serene at the two of you.
“What happened?” he asks.
You hum, softening in pleasant surprise at the question.
“I’m not sure how he lost his eye. It was infected when I found him. But I know for sure the tail and leg are from getting hit by a car.”
You sigh, scratching at Rasputin’s chin. A rusty purr starts up as he tilts his head, revealing some nasty scars around his throat.
“The vet said that that’s probably from a fight with another cat,” you add.
Guy steps from your arms to cuddle up to Rasputin, shoving his face into his ragged ear. Grooming time, then. That’s as good an indication as any that Nikto’s probably safe enough.
“I ran down from an office building to save him.” You blink hard, eyes stinging just from the memory. “But anyway, he gets to rest and be pampered now.”
When you glance up from Rasputin’s happy little face, you almost startle at the sharp blue eyes pinning you in place. Your face feels warm, even though you’re not embarrassed.
“I’ll, um, get out of the way,” you say, clearing your throat. “Keep an eye on things, Ras.”
With the men occupied, you find yourself once again at loose ends. You drift towards the den, but it feels awkward to sit on your ass watching TV while your neighbors fix your house.
You check the time on your phone - ignoring the text from your mother - and figure it’s not too early to start dinner.
“Will I be in the way if I start cooking?” you ask Krueger.
He flicks you a dimissive glance. “A little thing like you?”
You scoff and cross to the fridge. “You could have just said no.”
“Nein,” he snorts.
Rude bastard, you think - though not without fondness, unfortunately. The surly attitude is already growing on you.
There’s meat and spare boxes of pasta and veggies - that’ll work. You start tugging out ingredients, mentally doubling portions for your guests. They look like they work out even beyond the construction labor, hopefully you’ll have enough to satisfy their appetites.
“So what’s the plan with the house?” you ask as you get to work. “Just fixing it up to sell or…?”
“We will live there, the three of us,” Krueger answers. He swipes a screwdriver from Shithead’s batting paws. “Somewhere to stay when we are not working.”
You hum, biting back the next obvious question, loathe to become as nosy as the rest of your neighbors. Still… getting to know people, right?
It sounds like they expect to travel a lot. You can’t imagine them as business types - not in the traditional sense anyway. Though the image of Konig sitting in a tiny cubicle does make you smile a bit. Between their statures, their clothes, their shoes, and the occasional nasty scar, you take a guess.
“Are you guys military?”
“Contractor,” Krueger corrects.
You perk up. “Wait, really?”
He scowls. “Does it sound like a joke?”
You huff and turn back to the veggies you’re cutting. “No, no. I just - you know about guns and knives and things, then?”
He pauses. You shoot him a curious glance, only to quickly look away at the intense scrutiny directed your way.
“Yes,” he answers slowly.
“Then… could you maybe answer some questions…?”
His eyes narrow. “Questions?”
You keep your gaze on the cutting board. “Okay, wait, it's not suspicious. I’m a writer and it’s hard to google very specific questions sometimes. It’s just easier to ask an expert in person.”
Never mind that majority of your readers would never know the difference. It bothers you when things aren’t accurate.
He makes a considering noise. “A writer?”
You flush. “That’s what I do. Why I’m always home? I publish fiction.”
He stands, brushing his hands off on his pants. You peek his way, shocked to see a task you’ve been putting off for weeks already done. Hell, it looks sturdier than the rest of the cabinet doors, too.
“And your fiction requires knowledge of guns and knives and ‘things’?” he asks.
Your face feels like it’s on fire. “Sometimes…”
“Fine. I will answer your questions,” he allows.
You beam. “Thank you!”
He grunts, snatches a slice of pepper and pops it into his mouth.
“What else needs doing?”
Dinner ends up much more pleasant than expected. Nikto abstains from eating, you assume because he doesn’t feel comfortable removing his ever-present mask, but he sits at the table with Rasputin in his lap. He speaks little, and has that intense gaze that prickles at your freeze instinct, but you grow used to it as the meal progresses.
Konig, however, becomes chattier with food in his belly. He’s much more forthcoming when he answers your polite and totally casual questions - though you notice Krueger kick him under the table once or twice.
You suppose he gets you back by effectively announcing to the others what your career is. Which just kicks off the usual line of questioning about how and why you got into writing. Still, there’s no judgment from these men that make their living in labors of blood and sacrifice, where you expected censure. You only find genuine curiosity and intrigue, good-natured questions. Not even Krueger makes backhanded comments about it not being a “real” job.
Before you know it, the moon is high and you’re sending the three of them off, bellies full and a little friendlier than before. Nikto nods to you (and Rasputin) as he leaves, a big Tupperware of his dinner portion in hand.
You tell yourself it’s not anticipation that goes through you, knowing they’ll be back with it soon.
#cod#my writing#fanfiction#reader fic#dark fic#cod krueger#sebastian krueger#konig#konig cod#cod nikto#polyamory#bad neighbours#men at work
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Hii!! I Hope this isn’t asking too much but do you know if you could write about the reader giving rz Michael a bubble bath in like those claw foot baths where his knees would be sticking out, and he would have a pile of soap suds on top of his head and he would be entertained by a little rubber ducky as we wash him with those big yellow sponges? If you can’t that’s completely ok and don’t worry about it!! It would just be a cute fluffy moment between the 2!
Bath time
RZ!Michael Myers x reader
Word count: 1.4k
Tags list: @dootys @callmemeelah @mehidktbh @beanbagbitch @mrs-heelshire @vincent-sinclair-deserved-better @oneofvincentscandles @sleepypersonblog @alexxavicry @vexeliers-breakroom @l0sercat @naxxsstuff @beel-mcburger @charliedawn @emychan @slasherscrybaby
You slowly blinked while staring ahead at the alarm clock. It was close to midnight and your killer boyfriend haven’t came back yet and it’s nearly been three hours. It wasn’t like you could do anything, you wouldn’t know where to look if you wanted to do a search to find him. The more time he was gone, the more your mind started to wander and think the worst case scenarios. You shook your head to make them stop but they kept coming, making you sit up straight to walk around.
What if he finally got caught…or worse…did someone finally manage to kill him? Is he gone for good..?
“Don’t be ridiculous.” you said to yourself while trying to get something to drink. “This is Michael we’re talking about, he’s strong enough to handle himself.”
Yet the thought still lingered, he’d always come home badly injured and each time it made you worry that one day he won’t come back for good. People can put up a good fight when it comes to him and it shows from him having scratch marks to literally stab wounds and glass shards in his skin. You poured water in your cup, the thoughts still consuming your brain. A low creak of the wooden floor made you flinch, realizing you overfilled your cup of water and it spilled on the counter. Cursing to yourself as you quickly tried to clean it up and looked where the creak came from.
Michael stood by the couch and you had a hand over your pounding heart at the sight of him, turning on the kitchen light to get a better look at him. Luckily there wasn’t any blood..at least that was his…
His outfit was mainly covered in dirt, you sighed in relief which made him tilt his head at you. “You gave me quite the scare Mike.. but you gotta get out of those close if you want me to wash them. I don’t know about you but I don’t want to sleep with a mud stain on my bed. I can start a bath while you change.” You didn’t care about the glass of water and ran upstairs to get the bath ready, making sure it was warm but was still a little hot, making sure it had lots of soap for him to try and relax in. When you turned around Michael stood at the bathroom doorway. You really didn’t want to tell him to take off his mask but you had to in order for you to wash his hair as well.
“Okay another thing… you’re gonna have to take off your mask,” you saw him let out a deep breath. “Wait wait, you can still wear your paper mache one, I just want to wash your hair as well.” You held your hands up in defense, slowly sliding beside him before leaving the bathroom to go and get one of the old one he made that nearly resembled a pumpkin face with black scribbles. Giving it to him and giving him the privacy he needed. “If you need anything, or need help just knock okay?” Michael nodded, you went back downstairs to try and drink the glass of water now knowing that he’s okay.
I wonder if he got hurt, there wasn’t any blood seeping through his clothes it was only the blood of his victims, even if that was the case it’s not like he’s gonna go out of his way to show me I’d have to catch him or pay close attention, he didn’t look injured though.
You heard three knocks, chugging the rest of your water before sprinting upstairs, skipping every two steps to reach to the top faster, hoping he had on the paper mache mask, opening the cracked door to see Michael in the tub. He had his hands on his knees while his knees stuck out of the tub, a yellow rubber ducky floated through the water each time he moved. You forgot that was there.
“Is everything alright?” You asked pointing at him.
He nodded. Pointing at his body and hair.
“You..want me to wash you up?”
He nodded again.
With a tap of your fingers against the wall it took you a moment to remover where you put those large sponges, rushing back downstairs for the third time and grabbing a random cup and large sponge. Coming back up with a small huff from the constant back and forth, still standing and let the sponge absorb some water before pressing down on the bottle of foam soap. Washing up his upper body gently to make sure the soap spread everywhere. Sometimes he’d poke the duck or would squeeze it to make the water come out. You smiled at him being entertained by it. “Alright you gotta wash your lower body, let me know when you’re done I’m gonna put your clothes in the washer.”
He took the sponge silently, you gathered the muddy and dirty clothes and put them in the washer, nearly slamming the washer shut. You then went to your small closet and grabbed a large towel to put in the dryer so it can be warm for him when he comes out. You rubbed your tired yes before going to your room closer,looking for a certain pair of pajamas you bought for him to sleep in, it was hard to find the right size since you couldn’t take him shopping, your best guess was to estimate by the way his clothes looked on him, hoping they weren’t that big on him once he tried them on.
You grabbed the light blue two piece pajamas for him and stood by the bathroom until he knocked again. The three knocks came back and you came in. Wondering how you were going to wash his hair with the paper mache mask in his face. You put down the pajamas.
“Okay.. I’m gonna need you to tilt your head back so the mask won’t get wet.” His hair got dirtier every time you saw it, he desperately needed it washed. You were surprised it was still growing since he didn’t take care of it. Pouring a cup of water over his hair until it was wet and squeezed some shampoo in your hands, massaging his scalp and made sure every last strand of his hair was lathered in shampoo.
You payed attention to his body language since talking was something he never did, his tense form relaxed the more you massaged his scalp with gentle scratches of your fingers the hold on his leg loosened and you cosine sworn you heard him let out a deep sigh. After a few pours, he didn’t have anymore shampoo in his hair. You patted his shoulder to signal you were done, gently gathering his hair to ring out the access water in his hair. “Alright.. I did my part, you can rinse off or stay for as long as you’d like as long as you don’t get my floors wet. Your clothes are on the slink along with a towel. You rushed to get his towel out the dryer, placing it next to his clothing before finally laying down in your bed.
Plopping down on your back, your eyes began to droop needlessly, all that running back and forth made you exhausted along with you staying up waiting for Michael to come home. You didn’t regret it, but now that he was safe in your home, you can relax in peace. You didn’t know how long you managed to sleep before feeling a dip on the other side of the bed.
You sleepily turned your head to Michael who was staring at you through the mask. Having in the pajamas you provided for him. His hair was damp, seeing that he dried it with the towel instead of leaving it a dripping mess to make your sheets wet. You held your hand out with another tired yawn. Eyes not being able to stay open and sleep wanted to overtake you, but you’d like to see him before you go back to sleep. You turned your body so your face him as well. Michaels large hand took yours in a tight squeeze, you didn’t have the energy to tell him to be more gentle, instead, the tight hold made you feel at ease knowing he was there with you . Closing your eyes with a soft, “Good night, Michael.”
A rough grunt was your response, it was the last thing you heard before falling back asleep.
#rz michael myers x you#rz michael myers#rz michael myers fluff#rz michael myers fanfic#rz michael myers imagine#rz michael x reader#Halloween#slashers#slasher fanfiction#slasher fluff#slasher imagines#slasher x you#slasher x reader
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Better Setter!
BokuAkaKuroKen
[Fic Reupload] - Posting this oldie requested by anon, thanks to @wertzunge who still had it! I'd forgotten how wild this one is.....
Summary: A very crazy situation from Kenma’s point of view; Bokuto and Kuroo suddenly feel very determined to prove to each other that their setters - boyfriends - are more ticklish than the other. Things escalate, not just a little. (Also on AO3)
Word Count: 2.2K
“Look look look! And I go baaamm!” Kenma and Akaashi both exchanged tired glances when they heard Bokuto’s loud voice again. Who thought it was a smart idea to get together at Kuroo’s place and watch the recording of their latest Nekoma vs. Fukurodani match? Not them.
“HA! No that, your look was priceless when I almost smashed the ball into your face!”
Yeah. The game result was a draw, and since it was a simple practice match their coaches did not see the point in dragging it much longer to determine a winner. A draw. Draw! Of course that didn’t satisfy the dork captain duo in the least, and both Kenma and Akaashi ended up getting dragged along so that the captains could ‘see on their own who had won the match’.
“That point wasn’t a point!” Bokuto protested. Both of them sat glued to the screen while Kenma and Akaashi lounged on the big couch, each on one side. Kenma playing his games as always, and Akaashi lazily reading the news on his phone app.
“It was,” Akaashi said, and Kenma nodded, both of them intelligent enough to just be able to hear which part of the match they were at.
“Shut up Akaashi! God - look look! Isn’t Akaashi and my teamwork the greatest?” Bokuto’s snarl at Akaashi was instantly forgotten, and Kenma couldn’t help but snort at this. This couple was so cute.
“Nothing like what Kenma and I are doing. Here, look at that. He’s the best setter ever,” Kuroo said, and Kenma felt a subtle blush heat up his cheeks.
“Pardon me? I am 200% certain Akaashi’s the best setter.” Oh no. Was this really going where they thought this was going? Akaashi and Kenma exchanged glances again and both sighed. Here goes.
“No, Kenma is a much better setter. No offense, Akaashi,” Kuroo continued. It was Bokuto who took offense though, and he suddenly stood and shouted through the noises that came from the recording.
“Akaashi is the best! And he is also the sexiest cutest and most handsome setter in the world!”
“That’s not relevant Bokuto, but since we’re at it, have you ever seen Kenma’s smooth and silky skin? He is what you could call sexy. Nothing can beat that.” Talk about relevance! Kenma blushed like crazy and could see Akaashi was doing the same.
“Hohoho. Then you haven’t felt what Akaashi’s skin is like. I just have to…” Bokuto made a long swiping move with his finger into the air and closed his eyes with a dreamy smile “…do thiiiis and his skin feels so soft and smooth under my touch, and he’ll even share his angelic laugh because you see. Akaashi is very sensitive,” Bokuto continued as if he was promoting something in a commercial video, and Kenma felt embarrassed for Akaashi.
Poor Akaashi, why were they…
“Sensitive? You should see how ticklish Kenma is man! His laughter will make you pregnant!” Kenma’s face exploded. No fucking way did he say that!
“Kuroo!” he finally yelled, lowering his game and glaring at him while he breathed heavily.
Big mistake, since the two only now seemed to realize their bae’s were in the same room, and the smirks that appeared on their faces were anything but reassuring.
“What are they…” Akaashi mumbled, slowly lowering his phone as well.
“You dare say ‘ticklish’ without telling me Akaashi is the champion at being tickled?” Bokuto asked, slowly rising on his feet and walking over to where the setters were sitting.
“Why not let me demonstrate it then?” Kuroo asked, and Kenma swallowed as they started to circle around them. Oh no.
Both he and Akaashi ended up overwhelmed by the situation and jumped up from the couch, but before they could even flee they both got pulled back down onto the couch, each of them on a captain’s lap, opposite each other with Kuroo and Kenma sitting on the corner part of the seat, and Bokuto with Akaashi facing them and only inches away.
Both victims’ eyes made contact with each other and they trembled in anticipation.
“Bokuto, let me go…” Akaashi told his boyfriend calmly, and Kenma could see him squirm uncomfortably, but Bokuto pulled him tighter against his chest and trapped him with his arms.
“Heh Bokuto. What do you say, shall I show you my Kenma’s the most ticklish setter in the world?” Kuroo asked as Akaashi’s plea was ignored. He circled his arms around Kenma and pulled him closer onto his lap while he nuzzled the back of his head.
“K-Kuroo! This is silly! Don’t-” Kenma gulped when he noticed the way Bokuto moved his hands under Akaashi’s shirt, moving it up over his chest and making the latter squirm.
“Nothing matches how sexy and charming Akaashi is when I do this, Kuroo dear,” Bokuto lectured, and he made a claw of his hand and wiggled his fingers down Akaashi’s chest and toned tummy.
“HAahh!” Akaashi arched into Bokuto and threw his head back, his hand quickly shooting up to cover his mouth.
“Oh but watch this then.” Kenma was unprepared for when his own assault began. Kuroo wiggled his fingers up his sides and instantly went for those oversensitive spots in the hollows of his arms.
“Kuroooaaahh!” Kenma yelped, jumping suddenly in Kuroo’s lap but unable to escape his clutches.
Kuroo pulled him closer against his chest and Kenma’s mouth opened wide when he felt the demanding fingers ask for more.
“Ahaha nohoho s-stop it! Why are you doooh-aahaha wait!” Kenma gasped when his shirt was also moved all the way up as well, half-stripping him right before the eyes of Bokuto and a laughing Akaashi.
Kenma thrashed and bucked against Kuroo who continued to drill his fingers into his armpits, thumbs prodding and index fingers wiggling mischievously in a way that made him want to scream.
“STAhahap! Kuroo you know I’m - aahaha nohoho!”
It was embarrassing, very embarrassing to be tickled like this and actually witness how Akaashi was suffering from the same, and Kenma had to admit Bokuto was right about how sexy and charming he looked. There was just something about watching him laugh like that in such a helpless state, and it made his own heart flutter.
He’d probably enjoyed this immensely if it wasn’t for himself being tickled into a puddle of embarrassing laughs and tears. What was remarkable about Akaashi was how he was barely struggling at all, and that while Kenma was thrashing about like a wild animal and being totally uncharming unlike the ticklish guy in front of him…
From his point of view, Bokuto was winning this game with golden prizes.
“Your Kenma’s a wild one eh?” Bokuto asked as if he was reading Kenma’s mind, and Kenma automatically sucked in his own stomach when he saw the way Bokuto made a surprise claw-move at Akaashi’s stomach, making the exhausted guy choke on a laugh and mewl adorably.
“I know, right? You gotta know how to handle the wild kittens,” Kuroo said proudly, and without warning Kenma’s waist and sides were next to fall victim to some devious squeezing hands.
“FHAaha! Nohohho!”
He kicked his legs and threw his head around, his blond hair flying all over the place, while Akaashi was merely squirming charmingly and laughing at Bokuto’s equally assaulting fingers.
“Can I try?” Bokuto asked, and Kenma’s eyes snapped open.
“Sure.” Wait wha-
“Waahhh!” He squeaked when suddenly he and Akaashi were each thrown towards the other as both devil captains switched partners. Before he could comprehend what was going on, his arm was in a steady grip and Bokuto pulled him onto his lap.
“Heyheyheyyy Kenma, so how ticklish are you really? Why not show uncle Bo!” Kenma’s eyes opened wide when he felt Bokuto’s clawing hands he’d seen on Akaashi’s body earlier do the same to him; huge hands grabbed his sides and ribs and fingers wiggled in a rougher way than Kuroo would do.
“Shihihit no p-plehehease!” He struggled and thrashed and ended up flipping on his stomach so he was hanging over Bokuto’s lap.
“Wild he is, indeed,” Bokuto judged, and he proceeded to attack Kenma’s sides and hips with quick spidering fingers and squeezing movements that had Kenma buck like a wild animal on his lap.
“HEhehe K-Kuroohohoho hehehelp!” he laughed, tears pricking in his eyes and his breath running short. This was different. He was used to Kuroo’s tickles, not Bokuto’s and somehow this was even harder to deal with. And that said a lot.
“How are you so calm? Ah coochie coochieee coo!” Kuroo was having full attention for Akaashi who was squirming in his lap now, snorting, laughing and giggling at his mercy.
“P-Plehease Kuroo dohohon’t!” Akaashi laughed, and he gulped when Kuroo suddenly threw him onto the couch and pounced on top of him.
“Come on, laugh for me Akaashi!” Kuroo sang, and from his position on Bokuto’s lap Kenma could see how Kuroo released his worst tickle monster powers on the poor Fukurodani setter.
“AHah! NOT Thehehre!” After wondering where Kuroo was tickling him to get Akaashi that hysterical, Kenma was suddenly a lot more worried about his own situation when Bokuto moved his hands down and gripped the sensitive flesh of his inner thighs.
“Gahhh oh nohoho pf-plehease! C-Can’t breheeathe!” Kenma warned through his wheezy laughter and giggles. Bokuto had the energy he feared he would have in a situation like this. Merciless tickling, a loud voice that told him playful taunting words, and on the background Kuroo’s voice that did just the same while Akaashi laughed just as loud.
This situation couldn’t get any crazier.
“Stoohohohp!” Kenma’s laughter had turned very whiney when Bokuto switched to tickling his sides and ribs again while his loud mouth blew raspberries on his bare back, down his spine, lower back and sometimes partially on his side.
“Eeeheheek!” Kenma squeaked, his legs kicking weakly and arms making one final flailing move before he felt his body go limp under Bokuto’s touch. The lips on his skin sent tingles and chills through his entire body all at once, and he gasped tiredly and giggled when he felt the tickling slowly come to its end.
“I have to say, Kenma is very ticklish and he’s a real cutie. You were right,” Bokuto said, and Kenma blushed when he felt how he was wrapped in a couple of strong muscled arms and cuddled against Bokuto’s chest.
“K-Kurooo…” he whined, but he didn’t struggle, feeling rather comfy in his boyfriend’s buddy’s arms. His eyes found Kuroo’s who was snuggling a very tickle-tired Akaashi closely, and the smirk on his face reassured him that this was going to be just fine.
“And I am amazed about Akaashi. He’s a lot better than I expected,” Kuroo said as if he was talking about sports rather than a person getting tickled, and Kenma was surprised how good his boyfriend and Akaashi looked together like that.
“So, it’s a draw again?” Bokuto asked, and Kenma felt tingles from his breath against his neck, and he scrunched up his shoulders.
“Yes. Let’s call it a draw.” And then it was proved that the situation could definitely get crazier than it already was.
Kenma felt how Bokuto hugged him closer when Kuroo and Akaashi joined them on their side of the couch, and he felt lips kiss his own sweetly and passionately. His head was still a little cloudy and his eyes still teary from the tickling, and only after opening his eyes he noticed he had been kissing Akaashi.
“Heh. How’s that?” Bokuto asked, watching Kenma snuggle closer to his own setter, and Kenma blushed. After witnessing Akaashi getting tickled like that in front of his eyes, kissing him had definitely been on his guilty mind. But…
“Kuroo will…” Kenma started, shyly watching his boyfriend and seeking consent, but Kuroo grabbed him closer and kissed him as well “…absolutely kill you,” Kuroo finished for him with a sinister wink, and Kenma could barely even blink when Kuroo started to tickle him mercilessly again.
“K-Kurohaaa-hmph!” Yes, that was Bokuto kissing him while Kuroo tickled him to pieces and suddenly Akaashi was joining in by nuzzling Kenma’s stomach.
“Gahaha-Guuys! Wahahaait!” It was probably because he was the smallest that they ended up teaming up on him, even Akaashi whose cheeks were still adorably flushed from his earlier predicament.
“Meheh-Mercy!” Kenma gasped when Bokuto and Kuroo took turns in blowing raspberries on his tummy. He then ended up kissing someone again, and he honestly thought he could recognize Kuroo’s kissing style in there.
It was as if he had gotten drunk, not from alcohol but from getting tickled too much, and no matter how stupid and crazy it would seem, it was how in the end Bokuto and Akaashi practically joined his relationship with Kuroo.
Now with suddenly two boyfriends more, Kenma could only chuckle in delight at the funny thought that Bokuto and Kuroo had never come to an agreement about who was a better setter. Looked like they were meant to play for a draw at all times, which was, of course, not necessarily a bad thing!
#reupload#haikyuu#bokuakakuroken#ot4#tickling#tickle fic#kuroken#bokuaka#bokuto#akaashi#kenma#kuroo#otomiya!writes
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Hi friends, I have a question. Did any of you with anxiety ever experience numbness in your arms and legs ?
#also in the face !!!#not like complete loss of sensation but like itching or like loss of sensation but that you still can move normally#I have no idea how to say it in English#my doctor things in may be anxiety and if it is this I’ll be both relieve and furious bdjsbsjs#thinks*#i went to hospital and was there all night but they haven’t found anything wrong#now that I was told everything is fine I’m way less stress about this but I still feel a bit numb in my face and legs#I Hope it’s just anxiety and nothing bad but god I’m so stressed out all of the time what if I’m like that forever 😭😭😭#it’s been 1 week and I’m so tired 😭#at least it’s less bad than it was I barely feel it at time#but at least the doctor said he would refer me to an organisation where I could get diagnosed without paying something I just hope it won’t#take forever* cause last time I asked for help it took a year I got through d*pression on my own 💀#I never heard about this symptom so I’m curious ! they say it’s like the blood not circulating correctly cause of the stress#it’s fascinating but god it’s annoying fjsbdjs#the last 2 weeks were exhausting my body went fucking crazy out of a sudden#wish me luck 😭 Jbdjsbsj#I have to see my family doctor again Wednesday I hope she’ll have good news for me or it will just stop soon fjsbdjbd#alex.txt
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Just realised I don’t think I’ve missed teaching even one time since I left. Like, at all. It truly wasn’t the right career for me huh
#in comparison i miss baristaing and want to get back to work and am impatient to heal from my knee injury so that i can work#but i’ve never once missed teaching. when i was in the job i was never excited to teach a lesson. i never felt motivated#i didn’t hate it or anything and i was okay at it. all my students either passed their exams or at least got a better result#than their previous attempt; and i know goddamn well only about 2 of them were independently studying#because the rest outwardly said to my face that they wouldn’t be studying outside of class#and i was like ‘realistically neither would i have been at 17’#regardless. i still don’t miss it. teaching was stressful; nerve-wracking; frustrating; i didn’t get paid for most of the hours i worked#i didn’t like having to enforce behaviour and i just overall did not like it#and i haven’t even once thought ‘y’know what i miss…… lesson planning’ or anything like that#or ‘i miss standing up in front of a room of bored teenagers and trying to get them to take in information’#like FUCK THAT#no girl i miss making coffee. and i hope i’ll be able to continue doing that even with my buggered knee lmao#oh i officially have confirmation from my physio that my hamstring ligament is fucked lol. so that’s fun#anyway if you need me i’ll be doing my exercises lol#personal
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The Olive Theory
Luke Castellan x Reader
word count: 641
summary: Strawberries are your favorite thing in the whole world, luckily for you Luke seems to “hate them”
a/n: based on the olive theory from himym
@repostingmyfavs
There are two things you truly love in this world: Luke and Strawberries.
You often find yourself helping the Demeter and Dionysus kids in the strawberry fields, despite your actual job being at the infirmary. Miranda often scolded you for taking strawberries for yourself during the day, you didn’t mind though. The sweet yet tart berry was worth it.
Your obsession with the fruit grew even further. You begged the dryads for extra portions during dinner, pairing them with yogurt and melted chocolate. Your least favorite part was having to sacrifice the berry to your godly father. You debated giving something else to him but everyone at camp and above knew your love for them, there was no running from it.
Luke was well aware of your passion for strawberries. Going as far as joking that you love them more than him. You both aren’t quite sure if it’s a joke or not.
You sit at a picnic table near the Hermes cabin with luke. You had just sat down with Percy and three shortcakes for each of you. Luke leans over and presses a soft kiss against your temple as you sit down. Percy notices that you can barely acknowledge it since your focus is on the cake.
Both Luke and Percy stare at you in wonder as you eye the desert, they can’t seem to figure out why you haven’t eaten it yet. Impatient, you look over and luke with a wanting gaze.
“Oh- right,” he says understandingly.
Percy is clearly confused by the seemingly telepathic communication. His eyes dart between you and Luke, your gaze once again set on your plate. Luke picks off the strawberries from his cake and places them on your plate. As soon as the first two strawberries are there you start devouring the cake like a ravenous hyena. Percy starts to wonder if you’re even chewing. Luke starts to eat some of his until he stops halfway. He puts the remaining piece of cake on your plate for you. You eat it immediately as if it was there the whole time.
“Are you gonna have that?” You ask politely, eyeing a large, red strawberry on Percy’s plate.
His eyes shift down to where your gaze is settled, “No, go ahead.”
You smile and take it with your fork, biting into it quickly. Percy’s eyes shift back to Luke, who’s been staring at you since the moment you sat down. His face held a small smile as he admired you. You smiled as you licked the whipped cream off your fork.
“I think I'm gonna get another slice!” You exclaim happily, standing up and nearly skipping to where the dryads are.
Luke watches as you leave, eyes falling on your figure.
“I never realized she liked strawberries that much,” Percy said.
“Yeah, I'm kinda surprised she hasn’t turned into one yet,” he laughs quietly.
“I assume you don’t like them that much? I mean- you gave her all of yours and half of the cake,” Percy explains.
“Strawberries? no way, they’re great. But she loves them so much, and I'd do anything to make her happy,” Luke smiles as he nibbles on the remains of one of your eaten berries.
You come back with a widest smile on your face. You hold another cake alongside a cup of strawberries. You sit down, happily eating more of the cake and strawberries.
“Isn’t it so great that Luke doesn’t like them? I get them all to myself!” You say, beaming.
“Yeah,,, perfect,” Percy says slowly, remembering the new found information.
“Mhm; I’d give my girl all the strawberries in the world if I could,” Luke mumbles.
Luke has a single mission in life, making you happy. Even if that means giving up his favorite fruit for you. Your smile is worth much more than a simple strawberry.
#pjo series#luke castellan#luke pjo#luke castellan x reader#percy jackon and the olympians#percy jackson#luke castellan x you#luke pjo x reader#pjo x reader#pjo x you#pjo tv show#percy jackson x reader
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Hot Wings - LN4
landonorris x fem!reader
summary: your boyfriend does the hot wing challenge for quadrant and you make a little cameo for the first time ever
warnings: none, just fluff
masterlist | taglist
"Baby, you've got no right to laugh, you're not going this", your boyfriend Lando called, he would've laughed if his mouth wasn't burning at the moment.
He was currently filming a YouTube video for Quadrant and Max and him were eating hot wings while Niran asked them questions.
At the moment they were at the 7th wing, at level 300,000.
Max and Niran looked over at you behind the camera when Lando called your name.
Your boyfriend waved you over, signaling you to come to him. You hesitantly stood up, as you haven’t really confirmed your relationship yet, and walked to him and his best friend.
"My lips are burning", he mumbled, leaning back against your stomach, his head tilted back so he could hold eye contact.
You let your finger trail over his cheek, placing them onto his full red lips.
Lando leaned further into you. "Ohh, your fingers are cold, baby. I've never loved your fingers more than in this moment", the driver muttered, wrapping his arms around your middle, to keep you in place.
Max and Niran broke out in hysterical laughters as soon as Lando stopped speaking and even you couldn’t help a grin forming on your face.
"If you say so", you muttered, pushing your fingers into his curls, wrapping them around your fingers.
"Stay", he demanded.
"You're full of milk", you complained, stroking over the wet patches on Lando's black shirt.
"Yeah, I'm sorry, baby", he cooed, not really paying attention, which made you chuckle.
"You wanna take a bite as well?", Max suggested, holding up a hot wing with some sauce on it.
His best friend addressing you, made Lando lift his cheek from your stomach and look up at you.
In the meantime, you nodded, taking the chicken wing from Max's hands and taking a bite.
You didn't want to admit it but Lando's reaction wasn't unreasonable. The sauce was fucking spicy. But you tried to not let it show too much.
"It's spicy, that's for sure", you managed to say, taking a sip of the cold milk next to Lando.
"Well, at least you didn't spit everywhere like Lando", Max chuckled, slapping his best friend's back.
"She never-", Lando started with a grin, looking up at you, but before he could say anything else, you put your hand over his mouth, stopping him from telling a stupid sexual joke.
"You didn't eat the earlier ones", Lando complained, his voice muffled due to your fingers on his lips.
You listened to Lando answering Niran's question, with your boyfriend's arm still wrapped around your legs.
"Your lips alright again, mate?", Max asked teasingly.
"Mmh-mmh", Lando asked, looking up with his head thrown back. You could read his face telling you he wanted a kiss. You shook your head but still leaned down to peck his cheek, not feeling quite comfortable to properly kiss him with a camera recording you and in a video that will be posted on social media soon, before walking back to your chair behind the camera.
"You okay over there?" Max asked, after a few more hot wings when he noticed you pacing up and down behind the camera.
"My lips are burning", you replied. The boys laughed. "No, really it's actually painful", you called back, chuckling.
"You want ice cream", Lando offered, holding up the vanilla ice cream box. You agreed and walked over, the spoon already ready in Lando's hands.
You opened your mouth, letting Lando feed you. "You know Lando's salvia is all over that, he drooled on it", Max pointed out, looking at the spoon in Lando's hand.
"My salvia has been different places already", Lando quickly replied, not even taking his gaze of you.
"LANDO!", you yelled, realizing what he just said and threw the empty milk can that stood on the table at him.
Lando dodged the can successfully. "What? It's true", Lando laughed, smearing ice cream on your cheek.
Then he pulled a third chair closer for you to sit on.
"If there's anything you would change in Formula 1, what would you do?", Niran went on with the questions. "I'd make them do this. On the grid. During the national lanthem- lanthem", Lando replied, struggling to pronounce the words coming out of his mouth.
Max and you started laughing. "It's alright, baby", you laughed, making Lando look up at you. "You have the exact same look on your face as if you just came from a night club, completely shitfaced", you told him with a chuckle.
"I- I do talk li- la", Lando slurred, only confirming his words by the way he said them. You laughed and buried your fingers in his curls when he laid his head on the table.
"I need something to eat, something that's not spicy", he whined and sat back in his chair. "You want noodles?", you asked, grinning at the state your boyfriend was in.
Lando looked up and nodded, looking like a little kid. You smiled and ruffled his curls before standing up and walking to the kitchen upstairs.
Only a few minutes later Lando and Max came up from the filming room. Your boyfriend came up behind you and wrapped his arm around your body, his head resting on your shoulder.
"I’m almost done", you told Lando, who nodded and sat down next to Max on at the kitchen counter.
You took two plates from the cupboard and placed them in front of the two boys before putting the noodles along with the sauce on the table.
Lando pulled you closer like he had earlier while filming as well and put his head against your stomach.
Ria entered the kitchen and chuckled at the scene in front of her. Both boys looking like they just went through the most traumatic experience of their lives, with milk dripping down their shirts. "What happened to you two?", she laughed.
"Now you wait till you do that video", Lando called, grabbing his burning throat after, making you and Ria chuckle.
Comments:
fan: Y/N CAMEO??? IN A QUADRANT VIDEO
fan: She gets along with Max so well, I love it
fan: Ria is probably so happy she doesn't need to deal with the guys on her own anymore
fan: I don't think we need an official statement about their relationship anymore
> fan: Yeah, I think that's confirmation enough...
> fan: "My salvia has been different places already"
> fan: Charlotte would sue him for that
> fan: PAHAHAH SHE DEFINITELY WOULD
fan: Her voice is so calming, I could listen to her talk all day
> fan: Her accent is so adorable
fan: Y/n immediately burying her hands in Lando's curls is the cutest thing I've seen all day
> fan: Can we blame her? His curls do look amazingly touchable
fan: Now after this, I wanna see drunk Lando
fan: I wanna see more of boyfriend Lando, he’s the cutest
taglist
@im-an-overthinker @buendiabebeta @hungryhungariann @ohthemisssery @kenopsiababe @sawendel @enjoymyloves @ricsaigaslec @ravenqueen27 @temqr1 @leclerc16s @theamazingsimplethings-blog @coldmuffinbanditshoe @hotchnisscm97 @andtheworldiscrashingdownonme @moneymasnn @justme2042 @amulhermaisfelizdomundo @pleasantducktimetravel @anthonykatebridgerton @lisannehus @hannahholland1811 @lighttsoutlewis @mydutchproblem @dan3avocado @alwaysclassyeagle @cocomiracle @allthisfortommy @soleilgrec @cheeryara-blog @person2345-blog @aquamariene-me @judespoision @sbgal @teti-menchon0604 @darleneslane @flower-name @mehrmonga @bingewatche
#lando norris#f1#mclaren#lando norris fluff#lando norris imagine#lando norris x reader#lando norris x you#lando norris x y/n#f1 imagine#f1 x reader#lando norris smut#lando norris angst#ln4#quadrant
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jerk [2].
because bakugou katsuki is a jerk but he's also unfortunately your soulmate.
a/n: the LARGELY requested part two! honestly, i'd be willing to write more parts if people wanted :)
this part ended up being more about the girls and y/ns friendship but i couldn't help myself - if you guys want some fluff with bakugou for future parts, just let me know!
pairing: bakugou katsuki x f!reader
part one.
“You’re hiding something from us.”
There’s a beat of silence, then another, then another and when finally, you realize you should say something, you blink, sputtering out a barely believable; “no i’m not.”
Mina and Jirou glance at each other, then behind them at the rest of the girls, and you feel a layer of sweat build up when you realize all of your female classmates are here, surrounding you, demanding an answer. And you’ve never really been all that good at lying before, it’s how Bakugou was able to figure out the whole “i’m your soulmate thing” rather quickly and it had only taken him as long as it had because, well, it was Bakugou.
So, to put it bluntly, you’re screwed.
“Come on, Y/N,” Mina laughs, “that wasn’t even remotely believable.”
You know it’s written across your face, your eyes wide and your lips parted and you’re sure you look like quite the picture in that moment surrounded by every single female student in your class, a group of girls you considered your friends but were feeling considerably more like your interrogators in that moment.
But you have to at least try.
“I’m not hiding anything,” you repeat, this time taking special care to make sure your voice is even and somewhat believable. “I’m just… tired. It’s been throwing my balance off. Sorry guys.”
You really are because you have been weird recently and you were hiding things (even if you were desperate for them not to know that) so the sincerity was there and it seems to be enough because they all glance at each other, frowning, and you can literally see the determination fade as Momo speaks up first.
“You have been leaving to train a lot,” she agrees with a solemn nod. “It’s no wonder you’re so tired. But you should still try to get some rest, don’t push yourself so hard.”
You let out a breath of relief, trying not to let it show as some of the girls shuffle back to walk away, until—
“Wait, that reminds me!”
It’s Jirou who calls it out and you feel yourself freeze.
“She hasn’t been training!”
Eyes widening, you turn to look at Jirou. She’s grinning your way, her figure pointed in your direction, clearly pleased she’d caught you in your lie.
“Jirou,” Uraraka calls out, confused. “What are you–”
“Two nights ago when she left to go training, I followed her, thinking we could train together… she wasn’t there.”
They gasp. Literally gasp.
“Now that you mention it,” Froppy nods, finger held to her chin in thought. “I haven’t actually seen her in the gym very often… nor does she look particularly like a person who’s just trained when she comes back.”
Their eyes fall on you and you take a step back.
“Y/N—”
And then you just run.
-
“I can’t believe she just ran!”
“I know!”
“Guys, I’m sure she had her reasons.”
“Who?”
Mina’s lips are left parted at the sound of Kirishima’s voice, all the girls turning to face him in the living room where he’s sat with the rest of the class.
“Y/N,” Mina explains with a huff, falling into the couch dramatically. “She’s been ditching us constantly and always leaving right after we return from class with some excuse. When we tried to ask her about it today, she lied and then when we caught on to her lie, she ran! Literally just bolting down the hallway before we could even blink.”
Kirishima frowns, glancing over to Denki on his left.
“That doesn’t sound like Y/N,” Deku calls out from across the room, head tilted in curiosity. “Especially to lie to you guys.”
“I know!” Mina calls out, throwing her hands up in exasperation.
“Like I said,” Uraraka speaks up, trying to remain calm. “I’m sure she has her reasons. Maybe something’s wrong…”
“You think she could be in danger?” Shoto asks, quirking a brow.
Uraraka shrugs; “I don’t know… I hope not.”
Everyone falls silent, worried expressions plastered on their faces.
“Wait, Kirishima… bro.” Denki calls, reaching to shake Kirishima aggressively, to which the red-haired boy swats his hands away, shaking his head.
“What?”
“Hasn’t Bakubro been disappearing a lot too?”
All the girls straighten out.
Kirishima just shakes his head; “Bakugou is always disappearing. You know he doesn’t like hanging with us a lot.”
“No, Denki’s right,” Sero nods, “even if he isn’t hanging with us, he’s usually in his room or in the gym. Recently, he just completely disappears.”
“I guess you’re right…” Kirishima frowns.
“Wait,” Jirou calls out, “what are you saying? That Bakugou is disappearing with Y/N?”
“That’s crazy,” Mina brushes off. “I’ve never even seen the two talk to each other unless they’re forced to–wait.”
Everyone's eyes snap to hers, wide.
“What?”
“You don’t think… no. It’s not possible.”
“Oh my god,” Denki cries out suddenly, leaning forward with a manic look in his eyes. “Bakubro is hurting Y/N!”
“Wait–”
“No way!” Kirishima calls out, turning to Denki. “Bakugou is a lot of things, but he would never hurt somebody intentionally. Especially not a girl. That’s not manly. Right, Midoriya?”
“Right,” Deku nods confidently, before pausing; “I think?”
“Hey!”
“Guys, no!” Mina cuts in, shaking her hands widely before her. “That’s not what I meant.”
“Okay…” Momo nods, “then what?”
She leans in, pausing for dramatic effect. “He could be… her soulmate!”
There’s silence, then, “no way.”
Mina’s face falls; “why not?”
“Bakugou? Having a soulmate?” Jirou snorts, “I doubt that.”
“Everybody has one!”
“Okay, the odds of him actually caring about his soulmate are slim to none,” Froppy offers in response.
“Yeah,” Deku nods, “I've never once seen Kacchan show interest in his soulmate like… ever.”
Kirishima shakes his head; “even I have to admit that’s so not manly.”
Everyone shuffles around agreements but Mina is quick to argue; “have any of you guys ever seen Bakugou’s soulmate mark?” Slowly, one by one, all glancing at each other, the guys shake their heads. Mina then turns to the girls. “Okay, have any of you ever seen Y/N’s? Cause she’s never shown or told me.”
The girls all shake their heads.
“So how can you really know?” Mina raises a brow, “I mean, Y/N is always so secretive about her mark. She refuses to tell me.”
-
“Bakugou, we have—”
“Katsuki.”
Coming to a sharp halt, lips left parted, you blink up at Bakugou.
With a grin, Bakugou gently shuts your mouth with a hand to your jaw, laughing lightly; “say Katsuki. That’s my name.”
You can feel your cheeks warm, profusely, and a burst of heat flood through you as you pull yourself from his touch, avoiding his gaze. “Katsuki,” you oblige with a huff and a pout. “We have a problem.”
“Yes?” Bakugou asks, raising a brow your way as he lowers the weight’s he’d been lifting.
“The girls are onto us!”
Bakugou just stares down at you. “What does that mean?”
Exasperated at his obliviousness, you huff, stretching your hands out before you for emphasis as you stare up at him, wide-eyed. “They know I’ve been disappearing after class a lot. I tried to tell them I was training, which I guess we usually are but Jirou caught on to that being a lie too and now they’re onto us!”
Bakugou just blinks. “But what do you mean onto us?”
You let out a cry; “Katsuki! They’re gonna know we’re soulmates!”
“So?”
Pressing a hand to your face, you can’t believe your situation. Not only were the girls onto you, they knew you were lying, which made you feel awful and if they found out that you’d been spending all your time with Bakugou… well that was bound to bring up more questions. Questions you wouldn’t be able to avoid. Questions that would ultimately lead to them finding out Bakugou was your soulmate.
A hand gently reaches for your wrists, pulling your hands away from your face as Bakugou crouches to meet your eyes directly.
“Why is it such a big deal?” He asks gently, an odd tone that you’re still not used to hearing from Bakugou yet. His face remains neutral but there’s patience lingering in his eyes as he waits for you to explain why you’re so upset.
And you do. Your lips part and the words are at the tip of your tongue until, suddenly, you can’t say anything.
Nothing leaves your lips.
“Y/N?”
“I…—”
“You don’t want them to know?”
Blinking, you bite your lip. “It’s not that, it’s just…” But again, you can’t find the words.
“You don’t trust them?”
“Of course I do,” you argue instantly, “they’re my best friends.”
“Okay…” he says slowly, and then his face twists, “are you… embarrassed of me?”
Meeting his gaze, you frown. “...No,” you whisper, and you mean the words.
“Then what’s the problem?”
“I…” Shoulders falling, you frown. “Nothing… I guess.”
“So,” he says, “let them find out!”
Sputtering, you lean back; “it’s not like you’ve told Kirishima or any of the other guys!”
“It’s none of their business,” Bakugou shrugs, letting go of your wrists to set his hand on your head. “But if it makes you feel better, I'll tell them.”
You find yourself silent with disbelief once again, Bakugou’s words echoing in your mind paired with the look in his eyes. Just staring down at you.
Looking at you.
Like you’re his whole world.
-
“I’m sorry.”
They blink at you.
“I’m sorry about running away yesterday.”
Another blink.
“And I'm sorry I’ve been lying to you guys for the past few weeks.”
Slowly, all the girls glance at each other, trying to gauge the situation, before Uraraka is the first to speak up.
“It’s okay,” she assures with a smile, setting her hand on your shoulder and giving it a gentle squeeze. “We appreciate you apologizing. We were just worried.”
“We wanna make sure you’re okay,” Jirou adds, smiling shyly at you.
You take a look at all of their faces, seeing the sincerity staring back at you, before settling on Mina who still has a hint of hurt in her eyes but there’s also hope.
Well, here goes nothing.
“Bakugou’s my soulmate.”
Silence echoes, once again, before.
“What?”
“I knew it!”
“Bakugou!?”
There’s a mix of words, gasps of disbelief and shouts of question thrown out at you as all the girls rush towards you, swarming you, desperate for answers.
You laugh a little at their reaction, and that catches their attention.
“Y/N?” Mina asks, confused.
“I’ve been sneaking off to see him,” you explain to her, meeting her gaze, before letting your gaze drift. “I didn’t say anything because I’m still adjusting to it myself and I still don’t know how to feel about it. But I realized it isn’t fair to lie to you guys like that and that I want you guys to know because you matter so much to me.”
“Y/N…” Uraraka mumbles, tears welling in her eyes.
Her expression mimics many of the other girls before suddenly there’s a body slamming against your own, arms wrapping tightly around your waist as you stumble back, trying to catch your footing.
“Oh. My. God!” Mina screams, you wincing at the sheer volume, as she pulls back, grinning brightly at you. “You have to tell us everything!”
-
The next morning, you’re sitting at the island in the kitchen eating breakfast, chatting to Mina, Jirou and Kirishima. The rest of the students trickle by, some making breakfast, some in the living room, all in their own conversations, until suddenly it all stops.
It takes you a moment to realize Kirishima, Mina and Jirou are no longer listening to you, head turned to their right and following their gaze, curious, you blink when you realize it’s Bakugou they’re staring at. It’s not like he’s doing anything particularly odd, nothing except for the fact that his gaze is directed on you and he’s heading straight for you and then suddenly, he’s right in front of you.
His gaze drifts from you, to your plate, back to you; “who made you that?”
“Nobody,” you say slowly, still stunned. “I made it.”
He’s grabbing the plate before you can say anything else, pressing a kiss to your forehead that has your cheeks burning before turning and making his way to the fridge.
“I’ll make you something better,” is all he says in explanation.
Your gaze slowly drifts from him to Mina and Jirou who are grinning widely at you, before there’s the shout of;
“Did Bakubro just kiss Y/N?!”
“And offer to make her breakfast!”
“Wait,” Kirishima suddenly calls after Sero and Denki, turning to Mina and Jirou, “why are two grinning!?”
“All the girls are!” Deku exclaims, pointing at Uraraka and Froppy in front of him.
“You guys knew?”
“Of course,” Mina grins, sending a wink Kirishima’s way before shrugging. “Isn’t that right, Bakugou? You and Y/N are soulmates!”
Everyone expects him to ignore her or tell her to shut up, but instead, he pauses in what he’d been doing (cracking an egg for you), turning his head over his shoulders to meet your gaze before smirking.
“That’s right.”
And chaos follows.
Utter and complete chaos.
#mha#mha x reader#my hero academia#boku no hero academia#bakugou katsuki#bakugou katsuki x reader#bakugou x reader
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Unfamiliar Waters
Pairing: Tav X Astarion, Reader X Astarion. Gender neutral.
Content: Bathing, kissing, hair washing, fluff, comfort, slight conflict that gets resolved immediately, no sex, minor mention of torture. 1500 Words.
Summary: You were in dire need of a bath after a harrowing fight outside the inn you were staying at. Unfortunately you find the tub already occupied by Astarion. In an attempt to bond with and get him out of there, you offer to wash his hair.
Another short Astarion fic I started a while ago. Wanted to do something fluffy and intimate without any sex. Thanks again to Suri for edits and help with lines and the title!
You flung open the wooden doors, uncaring as wood chipped against lavender painted walls. Just as you were halfway through discarding your shirt, an indignant cry caught you off guard.
“What in the sweet hells, do you mind?!” The towel and toiletries fell from your hands. You’d never been very perceptive and today was no exception. Already fully submerged in the tub was Astarion; chest bare slumped over the side, a dripping copy of the Baldur’s Mouth Gazette in hand.
“Astarion?! I haven’t seen you in hours, is this where you’ve been?” You spluttered. “We really could have used your help. There was a fight right outside the inn. There’s absolutely no way you didn’t hear the commotion.”
“Some of us take pride in our appearances and besides, I needed time away from that festering group of ingrates.” As if to emphasise his point he shuddered. “You know, you could all learn a lot from me, starting with regular bathing.”
“And how exactly are any of us meant to bathe when you’re in the bathroom four hours every day?”
“Oh I don’t know, Baldur’s Gate has plenty of scenic rivers and lakes. I’m sure the bear has no problem leading each of you to nature’s finest bathhouse.”
You rubbed your temples with a freehand. As much as you loved this man, he could really start to grate on your nerves after a while. You scooped up your belongings and made your way over to him, arranging your towel neatly on the floor beside you.
He looked up from the paper disinterestedly. “As much as I love your company, dear, I hope you’re not planning on joining me. I hardly think this,” he gestured disapprovingly at the tub, “can fit us both.”
“Astarion, if there’s anything I can do to cut this exceedingly long bath short, I would be more than happy to assist.”
His eyes widened momentarily. How stupid of you, you hadn’t considered the implications of what you’d said.
“No, no, that's quite alright. I’ve still got my hair to wash and that’ll take at least another half an hour.”
Perching yourself on the edge of the tub beside him, you began rolling up your sleeves.
“Then allow me.” You smirked.
He flung the sodden paper to the floor and stared at you dumbfounded. “You mean you- wash my hair. I’m sitting here naked, dripping and gorgeous and all you want to do is ‘wash my hair’?”
“Couples do things for each other. Things outside of sex and combat, I might add,” you sniped back. Using your fingers, you began combing through his dampened locks.
“Without the sex, I suppose that leaves only the one thing we do together then.”
“That’s true.” His body tensed. “No, no wait- '' Flustered, you wrapped your arms around his shoulders and pressed your forehead against the back of his head. A feeble gesture, intended to soothe him and buy you enough time to explain.
“Just kidding,” you could hear the smirk in his voice, but you knew it wasn’t genuine.
“I like doing other things with you,” you mumbled into his curls. “I don’t care about the sex.” You relaxed your hold, allowing him to turn around to face you. Delicately, you reached out and wiped a stray piece of hair from his forehead. As you did so, his unnaturally pale cheeks took on a darker hue, perhaps from the heat or from your touch, you weren’t sure.
He cleared his throat and turned away again. “I see then. Well, this is as good a time as any to try something new.”
“Really?!” your head perked up. “I’m so excited, haven’t washed anyone else's hair since I left home.” You began swirling a hand in the tepid water, carefully choosing a spot faraway from where Astarion sat. “Did you and your siblings ever do this for each other? Like my family did,” you asked without thinking.
He shot you an incredulous glare, which soon contorted into sarcastic glee. “Oh, of course we did! And then in between our torture sessions we’d paint each others’ nails! What good fun it was.” His smile dropped and he fell backwards into the bath, splashing you in the process.
You scratched the back of your head. “Sorry I-”
He waved his hand dismissively. “Leave it, my love. No use dwelling on all that now.” You nodded your head in agreement, not that he could see you. “Come now, we don’t have all day.”
You hummed in agreement, looking over the various bottles that sat on a shelf beside the bath. Astarion was a very particular man and you didn’t wish to upset him by, god’s forbid, using the wrong fragrance. You gestured towards the selection of shampoo. “What’s your poison?”
“Hmm, I think today I‘m in the mood for jasmine- no wait- night orchid and ginseng- actually, that honey shampoo sounds positively delicious.”
“Might net you some unwanted attention from our camp bear,” you joked, hands sifting through the knots in his hair.
“Fair point. Alright then, I think I’d like to try that raspberry one, the one you got from that dear little market stall.”
The same one you liked to use.
With a gentle firmness you cupped the sides of his head. You hoped it was enough to stop him from turning around and seeing the pure glee etched onto your face.
“Alright, I need to get it wet, lean back,” you instructed, as you scooped up a handful of water.
He did as he was told and reclined backwards, eyes closed and squinted, anticipating the stream of water. Doing this for your brothers and sisters had been easy. Hells, you could get away with lobbing them in the river and they’d be just fine. Astarion, on the other hand, required a more delicate touch (even if he’d never admit to it) and you were more than happy to cater towards him.
With slow precision you poured the cooling water over his scalp, immediately pushing back any stray drops that threatened to drip down into his eyes.
Gods, how was it possible for such a man to be so beautiful and how was it that such a man had chosen you as his partner? Your hands stopped and your gaze lingered, as you took in his picturesque features.
An eyelash heavy with steam peeled open, giving you an inquisitive look.
“Enjoying the show, darling?” A thick, humid heat bloomed across your cheeks. “By all means, keep admiring me.”
“Shut up and close your eyes!” You grabbed the bottle from the side and began lathering it in your hands. The familiar fragrance filled your nostrils and despite having grown accustomed to having it as your own scent, you were looking forward to how it smelt on him.
You rubbed the foam through your fingers, fully enveloping his hair in a thick mousse. As your nails dragged across his scalp you heard him moan.
“That feels positively wonderful.”
“Oh yeah, like this?” you asked, repeating the same motions as before. He mmm-ed softly, sinking further into your hold. You paused for a second, this might be the most satisfied sound you’d ever heard coming from his lips, not a bad thing of course, given his past experiences.
His eyes were open again, staring up at you, face awash with bliss.
“Itching for a taste are we?” he goaded lightly.
There was no use dignifying that with a response. You brought your lips down upon his, his head still clasped in your hands. It was brief and sweet, reminiscent of those first kisses you’d once shared with young lovers. Unthinkable that such innocent yearning could be reclaimed so late in life.
Reluctantly you broke the kiss and pulled away.
“I do rather like that, you know…”
“I know and so do I.” You beamed. “Okay now can you please hurry up so I can have a bath,” you pleaded, peppering his mouth with more kisses.
“Always so demanding,” came his curt reply (the audacity). Nonetheless, he complied and finished up.
A deep sigh of relief escaped your lips after finally lowering yourself into freshly ran water. About halfway through wetting your hair, a freezing pair of hands on your shoulders caught you off guard.
“Astarion!” you shrieked. The little rogue had snuck up behind you.
“Oh, do be quiet, and don’t splash me. Wouldn’t do to get me wet again.” You watched as he rifled through the shampoo bottles disapprovingly. “We must go to the market together again soon, darling, just the two of us. I know just the product that’s perfect for your hair type, might do something about that helmet musk too.”
You opted to ignore that last dig, instead choosing to relish in the satisfaction of a warm bath and your lover threading his fingers through your hair. “I’d like that,” you hummed happily.
A contented silence descended over the room. You felt at peace and when you saw him hovering above you with that serene grin on his face, you knew he felt the same.
#astarion#astarion ancunin#tav x astarion#astarion x tav#reader x astarion#astarion x reader#bg3#baldur's gate 3#baldurs gate 3#baldur's gate#my fic#bg3 fic#fanfic#vampire
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Naruto Characters Accidentally Calling their Girlfriend their Wife
MR KRABSSSS I HAVE AN IDEAAA
Fem reader (or if you want to be called wife)
Characters: Naruto, Sasuke, Shino, Kiba, Shikamaru, Choji, Neji, Rock Lee, Kankuro, and Gaara.
(Masterlist is up now) also I’ll be adding Sai to this in the morning
Naruto Uzumaki
He’s talking to some new people and enthusiastically pulls you to his side, a large smile on his face, and he says “This is my wife! Y/N!”
You can’t hide your shock, not fully at least. He’s never called you his wife before. I mean, he’s said things like “you’ll be my future wife, right?” As he giggles or something.
But you are in a state of shock that he introduced you that way.
Nonetheless, you’re happy.
If the person makes a comment about how young or cute you two are for a married couple, he’d realize. Likely, he’d respond a little oddly, stuttering, but recovers and just full sends with the claim you’re his wife.
Sasuke Uchiha
If he’s with you, you’re gonna be his wife anyways. He didn’t get with you until he was sure of that, because it took him a long time to realize he felt that way anyways.
So he calls you his wife with full confidence, before realizing his mistake. However, he doesn’t care too much to correct himself or anything.
Because you are gonna marry him right? (He’s actually really nervous to propose, but he won’t admit that.)
People would probably just believe him immediately considering just how serious he is about you to even be with you.
When you confront him about it later, he’ll ask you if that was okay, explain it was a mistake, but he’ll probably comment on how he’s dating to marry anyways so… you might as well be his wife.
You can probably expect a proposal soon.
Shino Aburame
I can’t fully see this happening tbh. However, let’s say that it does.
He’d probably over explain himself to the person he referred of you as his wife too.
Not that he doesn’t want you as his wife, but you haven’t said you’ll be his wife yet. So he can’t call you his wife. That’s how he sees it.
He’ll probably think he messed up and upset you, so you’ll have to explain it was cute.
Once you explain to him, he’ll see your point. Maybe with some reluctance to lighten up on himself.
He’ll be happy you want to be seen as his wife though.
Kiba Inuzuka
Realized his mistake, but he could not be bothered.
He will keep on as if there is no mistake. As if you are legally married.
He’ll be upset if you correct him in front of people.
It’ll turn into a bit of an argument if you correct him in any way other than sweetly.
Because what the big deal???
If you leave it alone, and talk to him later, now he’s nervous and stuttering. But he’ll likely comment on how he knows you want to marry him so you might as well be called his wife.
Shikamaru Nara
Immediately realizing what slipped out his mouth.
Does he really want you to be his wife? Well, of course he does. But that’s a lot for him to accidentally spill out to some strangers you’re both meeting.
They don’t know he made a mistake, because you roll with it.
Later, he’ll try to avoid talking about it, but if you bring it up, he’ll say it was a mistake, don’t take it so seriously.
If you seem down about his underwhelming response, he’ll likely have an actual talk about his future with you to reassure you that he was just being an idiot when he said that.
Choji Akimichi
He forgot you’re not his wife.
I think Choji would just love you so much that he would simply treat you like a wife. To the point he forgets, you’re not his wife.
If you comment on it, he’ll think about it and probably be like ohhhh right.
He’ll apologize, but more than likely you’ll just say it was cute.
I can see him calling you wifey.
But if he’s gonna call you that, he’s gotta get you that ring. He’s planning on it as yall speak.
Neji Hyuga
You two are waiting a while before calling it official. Plans of marriage are far off.
He’s a little too traditional to jump at marriage quickly.
So when he accidentally calls you his wife, it was to Hiashi. He went pale. Paler than usual.
Later, depending on how exactly that went, he’ll probably be in his head.
Let’s assume for this though, that Hiashi approves of you completely.
Hiashi made a comment, rather he meant it badly or not, Neji will take it the wrong way. Realize he jumped too far.
You’ll have to tell him you find it cute, and rather his uncle approves of you two or not, you’ll be his wife someday :)
Rock Lee
It COULD be an honest mistake.
But let’s be honest,
It’s Lee.
He calls you his wife to your face, to other people, hell, he’d shout it from the roof tops.
So it’s not an accident. He meant it. He will one day make you his wife, so why would he not call you his wife now!
If you have any reserves about being called his wife before actual marriage, he will pout and be upset. He won’t understand.
But, once that’s over, he’s crying and begging for forgiveness.
Please tell him it’s cute that he wants to marry you, even if you do want to have a talk with him about not assuming roles you don’t officially have.
Gaara
HE CALLED YOU HIS WIFE IN FRONT OF A CROWD. so now he’s blushing.
He might correct his mistake, might not. Depends.
He’s a confident speaker, but that threw him off a little bit.
Likely you were a strong shinobi or something and he was trying to give you credit where it’s due, but it didn’t go as planned.
When you too are alone later, you’ll bring it up likely.
If you tell him you thought it was cute or sweet, he’ll turn bright red like his hair.
He likely won’t go on calling you his wife or anything. Maybe in private.
But he’s not ashamed of it. After all, he’s strongly considering marriage.
Kankuro
Called you his wife to his siblings while you were over for dinner.
Temari is not letting him live it down.
“Hey, I think your wife is trying to get your attention.” “I don’t know, maybe ask your wife?” “What about your wife?” From then on out.
He’s frustrated because it was a mistake, BUTTTT honestly, eventually he’ll make some snarky comment about how at least he’s closer to marriage than she is. Then he probably harps on Shikamaru a little bit in defense for his own comment.
(He approves of Shikamaru tho, if he’s being real. He just thinks it’s a little funny)
As long as this is before a certain point.
He decides to call you his wife to your face.
He’ll call you that to tease you now.
#naruto shino x reader#naruto x reader#naruto Shino#Kankuro#Gaara#Gaara x reader#Kankuro x reader#rock lee x reader#rock lee#Lee#Lee x reader#kiba inuzuka#Kiba x reader#Shino x reader#naruto Shippuden x reader#naruto shippuden#shikamaru nara#Shikamaru x reader#shino aburame x reader#Neji x reader#Neji Hyuga x reader#naruto uzumaki#naruto uzumaki x reader#Sasuke Uchiha#sasuke Uchiha x reader#Sasuke x reader#Choji x reader#choji akimichi#Choji Akimichi x reader#Choji
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Alastor x Fem!Reader x Vox
Summary : You're enjoying your evening at a party when Vox and Alastor take an interest in you and you become the subject of their unspoken challenge.
Warning : 18+, smut, edging, dirty talking, fingering, oral, creampie, oral creampie, cum swallowing, praise kink (kinda), teasing, overstimulation, edging (sort of).
Word Count : 4389 words (take that as you will)
Your friend Charlie said she needed moral support at this event meant to advertise the Hotel and Vaggie was too sick to participate so you offered thinking it was a nice occasion to go out and just look pretty while looking after your friend. This event was very formal and everyone was dressed up, you wore a very elegant black silk dress that was hugging your curves perfectly while still feeling like nothing, the dress' waist is narrow, but it's a comfortable fit, you wore matching black high heels with straps covered in diamond-like stones, the heels were somehow not uncomfortable at all which you felt very surprised by considering you didn’t usually wear any because of how uncomfortable they felt, you had your hair in a fancy updo which again wasn’t something you commonly wore but you felt expensive. You were ready to enjoyyour evening, though you hadn’t met her whole team before and when you were introduced you were either pleasantly surprised or just…surprised.
The party was huge, held in one of the biggest fancy buildings of the city and when you arrived most of the 200 guests had already arrived, Charlie insisted on introducing you to everyone in her team. Angel Dust was the first one she pointed at, he was at the bar and looked already drunk, it seemed like he was hitting on someone who looked like they were too tired for this.
“This is Angel Dust and this is Husk” Charlie said excitingly.
“Nice to meet you.” You smiled at them.
“Hi! Would you tell him that he should always try a blowjob at least once before turning it down!” said Angel Dust in a very serious yet somehow nonchalant tone.
“Hmm, sure…” You said looking at Charlie who was forcing a smile.
“Alright Husk please keep him under control will ya ?” She asked the demon that just stared at her then turned around and asked the bar for another whiskey with a resigned look on his face.
“Alright who’s next?” said Charlie walking around as she searched for someone to introduce you to.
“Well hello there.” You heard a charismatic voice say behind you surprising you as you turned around to be faced with an indeed very charismatic and tall man, you had to look higher than you thought you’d have to to meet his gaze. He looked down at you with an almost arrogant look yet somehow taunting smile.
“Oh hi Alastor! That’s y/n, she’s my friend and she’s come for emotional support!” exclaimed Charlie proud to introduce you. “Y/n, that’s Alastor my…business partner. He’s the radio demon and he’s very reliable!” She said turning to you and smiling.
“Nice to meet you.” You bowed slightly before being surprised as he grabbed your hand and bent to kiss it then looked you straight in the eyes as his eyes were now at the level of yours.
“The pleasure is all mine.” he declared smoothly, making you unconsciously blush as you weren’t expecting that, and he noticed as his grin got slightly wider. He then let go of your hand going back to his original stance.
You were still staring at him when Charlie interrupts the silence to announce “Where is Niffty, she’s the only one I haven’t introduced you to.” She scanned the rooms without any luck.
“She’s probably cleaning somewhere.” Exclaimed Alastor nonchalantly.
“I’ll go look for her, I’ll be right back y/n, you guys can get a drink or chat in the meantime.” Announced Charlie already walking away.
“Wait-“ You didn’t have time to say anything before she disappeared in the crowd.
“Why not both? Let’s get you a drink darling.” Declared Alastor extending his arm for you to grab onto.
‘Shit why am I feeling like this, it’s like my fight of flight is activated but it somehow feels good?’
“Sure…” You replied uncertain as you did just that and realized this man was making you warm, too warm, you were not sure if it was his general demeanor and charisma or the way he talked but there was something about him that made you feel flushed and unable to be your usual comfortable self.
You arrived at the bar and he ordered you a drink that you surprisingly enjoyed considering you had never heard of it before. You both sat down on stools by the bar as you sipped on your drink.
“Easy dear, this drink is stronger than it looks, you don’t want to end up like my tragic fellow.” He said pointing at Angel Dust not too far that looked like he was now trying to kiss Husk who was easily holding him at arm’s length.
You looked at Angel Dust then your drink and started sipping is slower, making the demon chuckle.
Somehow it was very hard for you to maintain eye contact with him, maybe it was because of his piercing and insistent gaze, either way you didn’t have a choice and didn’t want to seem rude.
“So, how long have you known Charlie?” You said, trying to initiate casual conversation.
“Longer than I care to remember.” He replied casually looking away then gazing back at you. “Now more interestingly how did Charlie get acquainted to such a lovely creature?” He exclaimed calmly yet looking like he was devouring you with his eyes.
“We met a long time ago in boarding school and I moved back not too long ago.” You answered realizing you had already finished your drink in spite of your best efforts, though you weren’t too worried and were confident in your ability to hold your alcohol.
“Oh well I guess I’ll get another drink.” You said grabbing the bar menu.
“What is a Demon Roulette…?” You read out loud.
“You’ve never had one? It’s a cocktail made from a very rare liquor that causes different effects on anyone who tries it, it makes some people cry, some people angry and some people suicidal even. It’s a 50/50 on if you’re going to regret its effect really.”
“So…alcohol?” You replied sarcastically.
The radio demon chuckles then pauses. “I guess you should give it a try and you’ll see what I mean dear.”
“I will if you join me?” You smiled noticing a little pause as if you had surprised him with your answer, but the expression of surprise was quickly replaced by a smirk.
“You are bolder than you look, yes, I shall indulge with you, this drink tends to make me…how should I put this…competitive? But I’m sure it won’t be an issue tonight. Two Demon Roulettes sir.” He asks the bartender who puts down your two cocktails in less than a minute.
‘Damn I hope this makes me relax, I want to really enjoy this evening.’ You told yourself hoping the drink will help. Little did you know it was exactly what would happen and more.
You took a sip of the new drink and instantly felt warm, your face flushed and your breath got a little heavier as you gulped.
“Interesting…” You felt Alastor’s gaze on you scanning your body for your reaction to the mysterious liquor and speak as if he’d already figured it out, before yourself even. He sipped on his own cocktail and before any of you could add anything you were interrupted.
“I didn’t know they let anyone in here?” You heard a smirking voice say. You looked for it only to meet the red eyes of another tall man, this time with a TV screen for a head. He wasn’t looking at you though, he was looking at the man by your side who looked his way unimpressed.
“Oh, what an unpleasant surprise.” Alastor replied before looking back at you.
“Where were we dear?” He said ignoring the other man, but before you could say anything the man walked up to the two of you putting himself literally in between you two, leaning over the counter and ordering a drink. You saw Alastor roll his eyes. The man then turned to you, still leaning against the bar, effectively blocking Alastor from your vision field.
“Hello, I’m Vox by the way, the greatest Overlord that hell has ever known, would you like me to rid you of this old timey prick?” He said confidently.
“Hi…” You hesitated, processing the info he just gave you as you kept mindlessly sipping on your drink.
“What’s your name sweetheart?” He continued, scanning your body and clearly enjoying what his eyes met.
“Hmm, I’m y/n.” You said trying to see if you could see Alastor behind him.
“I’m sorry you have to be in the presence of such a rude individual.” You heard from behind only to turn your head and find Alastor resting his hands on your shoulders staring sternly at Vox but still smiling.
His touch sent jolts down your body making you unintentionally tense up. To your surprise you felt his hands tighten as you tensed, as if to intensify the feeling, it almost felt like he knew what he was doing.
“I’m sure she would rather spend the evening with yours truly rather than this Overlord wannabe.” Said Vox looking at you waiting for your response.
You looked at him puzzled and with cheeks now flushed. You realized you weren’t truly paying attention to what he was saying but you had pieced together that he couldn’t stand Alastor. You took a second to look at all of him and realized he was fine. He realized what you were doing and smirked.
“Like what you see?” He grinned.
“Sorry, what did you say?” You questioned, snapping out of your daze and making Alastor share a laugh he tried to hide.
“Don’t push yourself Darling.” The radio demon laughed, letting go of your shoulders.
“I said you can get to know me without this disturbance of a demon around, and let’s just say that whatever you have going on with this hazbin individual, I can give you better.” Insisted Vox looking into your eyes and sipping from his drink. “You don’t deserve the company of such a beautiful creature anyways.” He adds looking at Alastor.
“This isn’t a competition.” Said Alastor, this time addressing the TV Overlord. “But I wouldn’t pass an opportunity to put you back in your place and remind you who’s in charge.” He said in a menacing tone you heard for the first time that sent shivers down your spine and to other areas you weren’t acknowledging yet. “You see this little darling just tried Demon Roulette for the first time and it seemed to have made her more…sensitive shall we say.” He said resting his hands on your shoulders once more, this time earning a quiet moan from you as you jolted and pressed your thighs together. No one seemed to have heard it, that is, besides the two demons by your side.
Vox looked dumbfounded for a second before a vicious smirk appeared on his face. You realized with him that you were hornier than you had ever been in your life, and you were longing for any touch at this point, which was a delicate situation, but the two attractive men being already your type made you feel incredibly lucky.
“Alright you’re on, you stupid old-fashioned bastard. I would love to make sure this beauty spends a night she won’t forget, though she might forget you if I’m being honest.”
“Now y/n, I know we met not too long ago but would you be interested in being the subject of a little experiment?” Alastor declared looking down at you.
‘I guess I won the roulette’ you thought to yourself, you blushed realizing how much you were enjoying the situation and how lewd your mind was.
“Hmm, what kind of experiment?” You asked turning your chair to face Alastor and finishing your cocktail. You felt the chair you were sitting on turn quickly around only to face Vox, his face dangerously close to yours, reinforcing your dirty thoughts.
“Why don’t you leave that up to us sweetheart?” He said, a devilish smile forming on his screen. “But let’s just say it is the type you will definitely enjoy.” He says inches from your face this time resting his hands on your thighs, making you squirm.
“Yup, I’m down.” You exclaim putting down your drink and looking at the two demons.
They both grabbed you by the hands and softly lead the way.
“Were you down when you got here or only after the cocktail kicked in?” Whispers Alastor in your ear.
“Let’s just say the cocktail only reinforced already existing matters.” You wink making the demon grin wickedly.
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Vox opened the door to a room that looked like a boudoir, very elegant with red velvet curtains against the walls with gold lining, fancy red velvet couches and little tables. As you scanned the room you felt the hand which Alastor was holding pull you swiftly only for your body to be pressed against his. The blush didn’t have time to reach your cheeks that you felt his lips press against yours for what felt like the softest yet most decisive kiss. You couldn’t help but moan in the kiss.
“Hey! You can’t get a head start!” You heard Vox exclaim annoyingly as he closed the door behind the three of you.
“Says who?” Smirked the radio demon, after slowly pulling away from the kiss leaving a string of saliva between the two of you. “You couldn’t even kiss her even if you wanted to.” He said taunting the TV demon.
You noticed Vox not responding but walking up to you instead and grabbing your hand, pulling you with him as he sat on a couch sitting you in between his spread legs. You rested your back against his large chest and realized just how tall he really was compared to you. He dragged his hands over your thighs caressing them softly causing your oversensitive body to react, making you yelp and grab his thighs reflexively.
“Maybe not, but I can do this.” He says looking straight at Alastor as he continues tracing your body up to your chest, cupping your breast softly yet firmly. You felt electricity run through your body.
“Indeed, you can.” Said Alastor walking up to the two of you and kneeling only to grab the back of your neck and kiss you deeper this time, making your head spin as you felt his tongue enter your mouth and play with yours. The surprise caused such pleasure you ended up arching your back, driving your ass into Vox’s crotch, causing him to groan.
“That’s it I’m not playing anymore.” Vox exclaimed pulling down the two straps of your dress revealing your plump breasts for all to see and with that he started playing with your nipples, making you moan louder into the kiss. He then sunk one of his hands down your body, reaching in between your legs teasing you lightly and feeling your nether region.
“Wow, you’re so wet you might make me short-circuit.” He whispered in your ear. He sent a jolt of electricity through your lingerie directly on your clit making you essentially roll your eyes back as you realized just how all your sensitivity stemmed from that region.
Alastor pulled away from the kiss to look into your dazed lidded eyes, drowning in pleasure.
“Enjoying ourselves, aren’t we?” He sarcastically asked kissing down your neck. “But don’t get too lost as you will have to decide whom has performed best.” He said smiling before reaching your nipples which is started to lick and suck on, driving away the hand of Vox that was left on your breast which he intuitively laid on your hip. He immediately proceeded to grab it firmly, pulling you tightly against his own crotch so that you could clearly feel his very hard member now resting between your ass cheeks. You moaned louder still with a hint of timidness.
“Moan as loud as you please sweetheart, this room is soundproof.” Said Vox confidently. And with that you felt his fingers entering your pussy not realizing your panties had been pushed to the side, making you moan very loudly and grab tightly onto the jacket of his suit.
“Getting close already, I barely touched you.” He teasingly exclaimed.
Not liking that you were enjoying his rival a little too much but only admitting it through actions Alastor stopped sucking on your nipples only to lick up your chest then gaze into your eyes before kissing you deeply and cupping both of your breasts firmly, pinching your nipples at the same time. Coincidentally it’s the time Vox chose to press hard against your G-Spot, sending you over the edge and making you moan loudly into the kiss and sinking into Vox.
“Oh yeah that’s right, good girl.” He exclaimed proudly as he continued fingering you through your orgasm.
“You see that dumbfuck? I win, she came thanks to me!” proclaimed Vox. Though it felt like the other demon hadn’t even heard him.
Alastor pulled away from the kiss to look at your current state. You gazed at him still twitching from your orgasm and noticed a serious look on his face you weren’t familiar with, you looked down and noticed a bulge pulsating in his pants. You blushed at that sight and Alastor grabbed your hips promptly pulling you towards him and turning you around, your knees on the floor but the top of your body resting on the couch, being faced with Vox’s crotch, looking just as strained as Alastor’s. You felt your panties being ripped then tossed away and your dress being lifted above your ass.
You heard the noise of Alastor undoing his pants and bending over you, his mouth next to your ear.
“Now you’ve done it darling, this isn’t just about the bet anymore.”
And with that you felt the tip of his cock press against your wet entrance, only to be pressed further and further, it felt so good, as though you were coming all over again just from feeling him entering you and you unwittingly pressed your hips against him helping him penetrate you feeling his grip tighten around your hips as you did so.
“Someone’s getting greedy I see.” Declared Vox trying to mock Alastor while trying to look as composed as he could.
Feeling like nothing was holding you back anymore you grabbed Vox’s crotch softly rubbing against the shape of his member and immediately getting his attention back.
“Oh, he’s not the only one I see.” He smirked looking at you and placing a hand on your cheek, his thumb rubbing your lip then entering your mouth. “What do you want sweetheart?” He asked teasingly.
It’s with flushed cheeks that you answered shyly. “You cock, please.”
“Sorry, what was that? I couldn’t quite hear you.” He pushed, knowing he had you cornered.
“Can I please suck your cock, Sir?” You pleaded looking up at him with a completely flushed face and doe eyes that drove him crazy.
“Fuck you’re so hot, of course you can.” He replied then hastily unzipped his pants, revealing his hard shaft ready to be savored, and that’s what you did. You grabbed his member but before you could wrap your mouth around it you heard Alastor talk.
“Alright my dear I’m sure you’re ready now.” And before you could process what he said he started thrusting hard, pounding into your hole, making you moan loudly but you couldn’t drown in the pleasure because you felt Vox’s fingers pull your chin up and look at you with anticipation. “Come on now don’t get distracted.” He expressed as you kept moaning but took his manhood in the mouth nonetheless and started sucking on it with gratification. His hips instinctively started thrusting into your mouth as you sucked. He threw his head back as you sucked and sunk his fingers in your hair.
“Fuck you feel so good.” He moaned resting back as you worked your magic.
You heard Alastor breathe heavily and this immediately made your walls tighten around his cock, making him groan in return, fucking you harder and putting more pressure on your breasts as he did so. You felt the tension building back up in your stomach.
“You’re going come for me like a good girl?” He muttered in your ear before grabbing your hips and pounding you even harder. Making you lose it a second time, he felt you coming around his cock, fucking you good as you did so.
Hearing you moan louder through sucking him off brought Vox’s attention back and witness your orgasm, which would’ve made him jealous he wasn’t the one making you come if the feeling wasn’t drowned in an irrepressible need to fuck you as well.
“Alright my turn, you’ve done enough.” He exclaimed pulling you off Alastor’s cock as if you weighted nothing and grabbing your ass firmly placing you on top of his cock and lowering you making you feel full again. You threw your head back in pleasure, to his delight. He groaned deeply realizing how good he felt at that moment.
“You’re so fucking tight.” He expressed still sinking both of his hands into your ass cheeks rocking you on his cock. You rested your hands on his chest and noticed his nipples were rock hard, you teased them instinctively and noticed his groans getting rougher, but before you could play more you felt a hand cup your face only to turn it to the side and feel a cock slide into your mouth. Without you having to do anything Alastor started thrusting in and out of your mouth rather roughly, holding your head between both of his hands and very much enjoying himself, you would never admit it but so were you, the rough and deep thrusts kept you for getting deep breaths, which made your pussy tighten and made Vox moan feeling you around him. You looked up at Alastor only to be met with a look of pure lust, perfectly suiting him.
“Don’t look at me like that…” teased the radio demon, smiling evilly and throwing his head back as he kept thrusting. Everything felt so good you kept tightening around Vox.
“Fuck are you trying to make me come?” Vox declared now rocking you with one hand and fondling your breast with the other and before you could think you were coming again, melting on Vox’s cock this time, your mouth might have been busy but they both felt you coming, and both enjoyed it thoroughly.
“Good girl !” Said Vox spanking your ass in a congratulating manner, still teasing your nipple.
You looked back up at Alastor and noticed an evil grin on his face as he pulled out of your mouth.
“Pardon me but I’ll take that.” He exclaimed calmly pulling you just as easily as Vox had and positioned you on all fours on the couch, entering your already overstimulated pussy once more, making you feel as if you were gonna lose your mind. He started thrusting immediately this time, making you realize he wasn’t actually going nearly as hard as he could the first time. He grabbed your breasts and teased your nipples as he thrusted harder and harder.
“Open up sweetheart.” You instinctively opened your mouth and felt Vox’s member enter it once again, this time propping himself on his knees facing you and thrusting himself. They were both going at it much rougher than before, and you could feel their thrusts become more intense. Somehow you felt the tension rise once again and your eyes started rolling back as you felt yourself get closer and closer to the release. Vox noticed that and looked at you as he thrusted.
“You’re gonna come again? You little minx I told you you’d spend a night you wouldn’t forget.” He said moaning and somehow thrusting even harder.
“You’re going to come again darling we’re counting on you.” Said Alastor as calmly as he could be in that moment though you could hear him panting despite his best effort to conceal it. You felt Alastor’s hands squeeze your ass before settling back on your hips, which he grabbed firmly as he immediately started fucking you harder than you had ever been, somehow hitting your G-sport every single time. It didn’t take long for you to reach your release finally, tensing up all over, Vox feeling your throat tighten around his cock, making him moan loudly as you felt his cock explode in your mouth. Simultaneously, your pussy coming was tightening around Alastor who gripped you tightly pulling you fully onto his cock. “Fuck…” You were sure you heard him mumble under his breath as you realized he was coming as well, you felt cum filling both of your holes as you all finished coming.
Vox was the first one to pull his cock out of you and saw his cum in your mouth before you looked him in the eyes and closed your mouth, swallowing it before opening your mouth again, showing him what you did.
“You’re so naughty I love it.” He smiled clearly out of breath.
Alastor slowly pulled out, leaving you to collapse on the couch.
“I may have gone slightly overboard dear, my apologies.” He said slowly gaining back control over his mind.
“Fuck that was so good though.” Exclaimed Vox resting back and still catching his breath.
Alastor pulled out some tissue which he used to clean you up and Vox pulled the straps of your dress back on your shoulder. You then propped yourself up after you had time to calm down from the overstimulation. The two gentlemen (not so gentle) sat in front of you, looking at you expectantly.
“So?” Asked Vox.
“Which one was best?” They both asked simultaneously.
You looked at them thinking for a second. How were you gonna get the most out of this situation? (not that you hadn't already?)
“I’m not sure…” You replied playing coy.
They both instantly noticed what you are doing and smirked.
“I guess we fucked the poor thing silly.” Exclaimed Alastor playfully.
“Damn, we need a rematch.” Said Vox, more serious than Alastor.
“I’m sure we can arrange that. Right?” Declared Alastor smiling at you.
You nodded celebrating in your head.
To be continued...
#hazbin hotel smut#hazbin hotel x reader#alastor x reader x vox#alastor x reader#vox x reader#smut#+18#hazbin hotel x you#alastor x you#vox x you#hazbin hotel
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yale | c.s. |
chris x fem!reader
read part two here
summary: chris and y/n’s relationship was strictly sexual, and they both seem more than content with meeting up whenever y/n can get time away from her school work — and her boyfriend. but after a particularly intense hook up where chris put his all into making y/n shed her stress from exam prep, it becomes clear that at least one of them is starting to want something more.
warnings: SMUUUUT; friends with benefits; cheating (do not do this pls); thigh riding; fingering; oral (f receiving); p in v; dirty talk; unprotected sex (wrap it); 18+
notes: i was (loosely) inspired by the first few lines of yale by ken carson when writing this hehe. im definitely not 100% happy with the ending of this one but i wanted to get this out of my drafts :p hope u all enjoyyyyyy <333
y/n: Hey. I’ve been super busy all day studying for my exams next week. Not sure if I’m going to be able to make it to yours today.
Chris: :(
Chris: Please come
Chris: You can study here
y/n: Definitely not. Your needy ass would just distract me.
Chris: I won’t I swear
Chris: I’ll hangout in Matt’s room or something and you can study at my desk
y/n: I don’t know…
Chris: I haven’t seen you in weeks :/
y/n: You miss me or something?
Chris: YES obviously bro
y/n: lol
y/n: I’ll tell Brad I’m going to study at the library. See you in 15, bro.
ᵕᵕᵕᵕ୨♡︎୧ᵕᵕᵕᵕ
Adjusting the shoulder strap of my tote bag, I waited for Chris to come open the front door and let me in. I didn’t have to wait long, as after a few seconds I heard the sound of his feet clambering down the stairs before being met with his unbeatable smile beaming down at me. After returning the smile, I walked through the open door and headed in the direction of his upstairs bedroom, but was stopped by a strong grip on my arm. I was spun around and was suddenly facing Chris, his brows furrowed slightly in concern.
“No kiss?” He asked with a pout. I winced, feeling guilty, before wrapping my arms around his waist and giving him a short but deep kiss. “Sorry Chris, my head’s just so scrambled. I have three finals as soon as I get back to Connecticut after Thanksgiving break and I’ve been so stressed about them.” I apologized as I moved my hand up to brush his hair out of his face. He must have just showered, because his hair was dripping wet and hanging over his sparkling blue eyes.
He brought his hands to my ass and squeezed it gently. “My Yale girl.” He said before nuzzling his face into the crook of my neck. Giggling at the ticklish sensation from his facial hair, I gently pushed him off. “You know I’m not your girl, Chris.” I rolled my eyes as I started climbing the stairs up to the living room. I felt him press up against me as I walked, before I felt his breath against my hair. “Today you are.” I felt a flutter in my stomach, my body reacting in excitement just from the thought of what was to come, but I quickly cleared my mind of all of its dirty thoughts for the sake of my academic future. “Only until eight, that’s when the library closes and Brad will know something’s up if I’m still out past then.” I could practically feel his eyes roll behind me. “See? I told you that you shouldn’t have brought him home for the holidays to meet your parents. He’s causing more problems than he’s worth” He grumbled. “Whatever you say Chris,” I teased, “But you’re still gonna let me study.”
As soon as we reached Chris’ room, I headed over to his desk and began pulling my laptop and study notes from my tote bag. Chris helped me by clearing all of his empty Takis wrappers and Pepsi cans off of the surface of the desk, and moving his headset and controller to the side so that there was plenty of room for me to lay all of my papers out.
“Can I grab you anything from the kitchen before I leave?” Asked Chris as he rested his chin on my shoulder, watching me unlock my laptop. I shook my head. “I’m good for now, thanks.” I responded, already feeling myself zone into my studying. “Okay. I’m gonna be on Fortnite in Matt’s room. He’ll be out all day with the rest of my family so he won’t mind.” I nodded my head again, only half listening to his rambling as my eyes erratically scanned all the information on my computer screen. He gently pressed his lips against my temple. “And when you’re ready for a break,” He reached his hand into the big pocket of his hoodie and I heard a muffled but familiar jingle before he pulled out the small red bell and placed it on the edge of the desk. “You know what to do.” I looked up to meet his knowing eyes and he flashed me a quick wink. I felt my lips curl into a small smirk and I nodded. “Got it.” He smiled before exiting his room, shutting the door behind him.
ᵕᵕᵕᵕ୨♡︎୧ᵕᵕᵕᵕ
Rubbing my tired eyes under my glasses, I groaned in frustration. I had been using flash cards to practice my active recall for my Biology II final, and had answered the last four questions incorrectly. The most infuriating part was that I shouldknow the correct answers, but the hours I had spent studying nonstop had made me feel like I was burning out. I glanced at the time in the top right corner of my laptop screen. It was nearly 5:00. I had been studying at Chris’ for the past three hours straight. Exacerbated, I sighed and rested my head against the cold surface of the desk, closing my eyes for a moment.
After a little while, I forced my burning eyes back open and they landed on the small red object in front of me. In my erratic mindset from the hours I had spent studying, it was like the part of my brain that knew why I was really at Chris’s right now had shut off completely. I battled myself for a few moments; one half of me wanting to do the responsible thing and continue studying until I had corrected my mistakes, and the other half screaming at me to take a break. With my mind growing more and more excited at the idea of distracting myself from the mental gymnastics of Biology II, I reached for the bell and rang it three times.
Almost immediately, I heard a door creak open from down the hall and eager footsteps approaching. I watched from my place at the desk as the doorknob turned and Chris’ face popped in the room. “You ready for a break angel?” He asked as he made his way completely into the bedroom; shutting the door behind him before I even responded. Quickly stacking my flash cards and shutting off my laptop, I nodded. Immediately, Chris’ previously sparkling eyes seemed to darken before my eyes and a sly leer crossed his face.
Still sitting in the desk chair, I watched curiously as he slowly walked up to me; my head tilting up with each step he took in order to maintain our intense eye contact. Torturously slow, he leaned toward me and placed both hands against the arm rests of the chair to support his body. I waited, perfectly still, as his lips hovered in front of mine; the small space between them electric with anticipation. Finally, I felt my body immediately relax when his lips attached to mine. Our lips moved in sync slowly, his mouth painfully soft against my own. The kiss very quickly deepened, one of his hands now in my hair while one of my own wrapped around his neck, and a small moan is stifled by his tongue gently entering my mouth. Goosebumps began to rise over my skin as his mouth left mine and began traveling down my neck. Chris immediately found the spot just above my collar bone that he knew drove me crazy and began sucking and nibbling at the delicate skin; hard enough for me to roll my eyes back in pleasure but gentle enough to avoid leaving any evidence that his lips were ever there.
After trailing his lips back to mine and rhythmically kissing me for a few more moments, he stood up straight and gazed down at me. With a small smile, he hooked a finger under my chin and guided my eyes up to his. He brought the rough pad of his thumb to my soft bottom lip, and watched intently as he dragged it down slightly. “Come here.” He ordered as he began walking backward in the direction of his bed. I stood up on shaky legs and followed, straddling his lap at the edge of his unmade bed. Wrapping my arms tightly around his neck, I eagerly began kissing him again, feeling his content hums vibrate against my lips as he slipped his hands underneath my sweater, only to find out that I had chosen not to wear a bra. “Oh yeah,” I began, detaching my lips from his and innocently staring up at him through my eyelashes. “I was in such a rush to get here that I just threw this skirt and sweater on. I completely forgot to wear anything underneath them.”
I couldn’t help but smile slightly as I watched Chris’ blue eyes dilate to near-black as he realized what I meant. To confirm this realization, he pulled my black plaid skirt up over my waist to find my completely unclothed pussy hugging his thigh. His jaw went slack when he noticed the small dark patch already beginning to appear on his jeans from my arousal, and he immediately placed both of his hands firmly on my hips as if restraining himself. Eventually, he was able to pull his eyes away from my core and looked up at me with blown out pupils. His lips met mine once again, only this time they brushed against mine teasingly and without any sort of depth. Growing frustrated, I began grinding my hips against his straddled thigh so that I could find some sort of relief. At this, Chris’ grip on my hips tightened and his gaze fell down to where my core connected to his leg.
“You want to ride my thigh like a little slut, don’t you baby?” His voice sounded deep with lust, and I whimpered at his filthy words as I continued to chase my relief. Using his hands on my hips, he forcefully halted my movements and my eyes immediately snapped onto his. “Answer me, y/n.” He demanded, and I bit my bottom lip gently in frustration before quickly nodding my head. Chris smirked and shook his head slowly. “Use your words.” He said as his fingers moved mindlessly in a circular motion on my hips.
“Yes, please let me ride your thigh.” I managed to get out through my ragged breathing, and almost immediately he used the firm grip he had on my hips to slowly drag me up and down his thigh. Shutting my eyes in relief, I let him continue to grind my core down onto his thigh while I simply held onto his neck for support. The pool of arousal on his leg allowed my clit to glide with ease, but the rough texture of his denim supplied the much-needed friction against my folds that was beginning to drive me crazy. As our movements continued, Chris watched my blissful expression before bringing his lips to my neck, licking and nibbling softly. I moaned out his name as I began to feel the familiar build up of pressure in my lower stomach. “Are you feeling good, princess?” He mumbled against my neck and I nodded my head quickly. “You’re gonna cum soon aren’t you?” He asked as he brought his head back up. Again, I nodded with my bottom lip pulled tightly between my teeth. “I wanna watch you fuck my thigh yourself while you cum, so start moving princess.” He commanded as he removed his hands from my hips.
Without missing a beat, I began to grind my body against his at the same pace that he had me at before. I felt my body flush at the intense feeling of an orgasm building up, and I had to screw my eyes shut. “No y/n,” Chris began as he pulled my sweater up over my head to discard it. “I want you to look at the mess you’re making all over my thigh.” I threw my head back from the intensity of his words, but obeyed him. Looking down at my pink cunt’s rhythmic movements against his darkened jeans, I felt my orgasm finally bubble over. Gripping tightly at the base of his hair and whining out his name through clenched teeth, I gave into my high and rode out my orgasm on his flexed leg.
Once I felt the last whisper of my orgasm leave by body, I draped my head over his shoulder in an attempt to rest and catch my breath. I didn’t have more than a brief moment to do so, however, as in one swift motion Chris sat me up, laid himself flat on the bed, and pulled my hips up to hover over his face. “C-Chris I can’t, I’m so sensitive.” I whined, still feeling the weakness in my legs from my first orgasm. I felt his cool breath against my dripping cunt as he gazed up at it. “You can take it baby, I just wanna make you feel good.” He responded before lowering my core right against his open mouth. I was immediately overwhelmed by a white-hot sensation of arousal as his tongue danced around my bundle of nerves. A moan fell from his lips as he firmly gripped my ass with both of his hands and began manually grinding my core against his mouth just as he had done before on his thigh. Still feeling the overwhelming after-effects of my first orgasm, I could do nothing besides hold onto his long hair for dear life and repetitively moan out his name.
As my second orgasm started to build up in my lower stomach, Chris used one hand slap my ass; sending a row of shivers down my spine at the sharp pleasure. “Fuck Chris, I-I think I’m gonna cum again.” I cried out. I felt his mouth turn up in a smirk against my heat before his tongue quickened; now doing swift figure-eights against my clit. I felt my legs begin to shake uncontrollably on either side of his head as my second orgasm tore through me; this one being even more intense and lasting much longer than my first.
Chris gently lifted me off of his face and he once again took a moment to admire my dripping wet heat as it continued to pulsate above him. He placed his tongue at my opening and trailed it quickly up to my nerves to collect all of my arousal, and the contact on my already overstimulated cunt caused me to hiss through my teeth and buck my hips away.
“It’s so pretty baby.” He whispered, peering up at me from between my legs and causing my core to once again grow hot with need. Nibbling on my bottom lip, I leaned back slightly to place my hand on his clothed hardness behind me. Running my hand up and down its impressive length slowly, I wordlessly let him know what I really wanted.
Knowing me so well at this point, I didn’t need to do much else before he helped me move off of him. “Ass up angel.” He commanded and I immediately obeyed; pressing my chest into his mattress and arching my back as far as possible to give him the best view I could. I wiggled in anticipation as I heard him unzip his jeans and quickly pull them off. Soon after I felt his warm, swollen tip rub against my folds, and I whimpered softly at his teasing. He continued his agonizingly slow movements, knowing they would drive me crazy, and I knew I couldn’t wait any longer. In my discontentment, I pushed my entrance against his dancing tip and sighed in immediate relief as I felt the first couple inches of his enter me.
My satisfaction didn’t last long though, as Chris quickly pulled his hips back, causing his dick to fall out of me, before leaning forward; wrapping his long fingers around my neck and forcing my head up off the bed. “You’re such a needy slut, trying to fuck yourself with my cock like that.” I rolled my eyes back in pure bliss from the combination of his dirty words and the pressure of his hand around my throat. “You’re gonna stay still and be patient.” He whispered as I felt him use his free hand to resume teasing my cunt.
His tip swirled around my ass, slid across my clit, and finally made it back to my opening where he finally allowed only about one inch to rest in the crest of my hole; as if to test me. I stayed as still as possible, not wanting to prolong the torture for any longer, though it took everything out of me to not sink my shaking hips down again and swallow his shaft greedily.
“That’s a good girl.” He muttered gruffly as he finally pushed his cock slowly into my begging hole, earning a satisfied moan from me as he bottomed out. I felt my walls stretch out to fit his girth, and my eyes began to water at the intense pressure that I would never get used to. He removed his hand from my throat and placed it on the back of my neck while his other hand was gripped to my hip, using enough weight to hold me down as he began to slam into me repeatedly. His pace was slow, but he made sure to hit my sweet spot with each thrust, causing incessant moans to fall from my mouth.
“That feels good, doesn’t it baby?” He asked as his pace began to quicken slightly. Not being able to form a sentence, I squeezed my eyes shut and nodded my head rapidly. “Does Brad make you feel as good as I do?” His voice was gravelly but taunting, and I felt myself clench around him as he spoke. When I didn’t respond to his question, he fisted my hair and pulled my head up forcefully. “Tell me y/n, I wanna know. Does Brad fill you up like I do?” He practically growled in my ear, and I felt the tears in my eyes threaten to spill as another orgasm threatened to wash over me.
I gasped when Chris suddenly spun me around so that I was laying on my back with my head against the headboard. With his cock now just resting on my stomach, I whined at the loss of contact as he stared down at me with taunting eyes. “I asked you a question y/n.” He spoke calmly, but his hand’s firm grip on my jaw told me it was just a facade.
I brought my hand down between our bodies to lightly stroke his cock before reaching up to lightly brush my lips against his. The kiss grew deeper once I tasted myself on his tongue, before I finally pulled away to speak. “No. No one has ever made me feel as good as you do.” I watched closely as Chris’ pupils dilated from my words, and in an instant he plunged his cock back into me; my shocked moan stifled by his lips reattaching to my mouth.
I head fell back in ecstasy as he rolled his hips slowly to meet mine. His eyes were on me and I was jarred by the intimacy of our movements. My shock must have been clear on my face, as he seemed to have a moment of clarity before straightening up, hooking his arms around my legs, and slamming his cock into me hard and fast. His jaw went slack as his eyes gazed down to where our bodies fused into one, and I had to dig my nails into the wooden headboard as I approached my orgasm.
As the room filled with our moans and the wet smacking of our connecting bodies, his rhythm grew sloppy and I knew that he was as close to his orgasm as I was. Tightening my legs around his body to pull him even deeper into me, I wordlessly egged him on just as I felt my third and final orgasm take over my body. My back arched off of the bed and a string of profanities flew out of my mouth as I convulsed around his cock, and it wasn’t long before his breath hitched and his body stiffened; his stiff member shooting cum deep into me.
After we both rode out our highs, Chris collapsed onto my chest. As we both caught our breath — our bodies still connected and gently pulsating against each other — he lightly brushed a finger up and down my arm. I brought my hands to the back of his head and began gently massaging it. We continued to lay there in silence for so long that I began to feel my eyes grow heavy with sleep, before I was suddenly brought back to reality by the sound of his voice.
“How are you feeling?” He asked, his voice muffled by my shoulder. “Pretty good, honestly,” I responded with a laugh, his one-dimensional question throwing me off,“You?” I felt him raise his shoulders into a shrug. “Me too.” He responded simply. Still too tired to move, I closed my eyes again as I relished in the light feeling that always came after really good sex.
“Did you really mean it when you said that no one makes you feel as good as I do?” Chris’ question made me jump, partially because I almost dozed off again but mostly because of its intensity. I stayed silent for a moment, trying to figure out the best way to approach this conversation. It wasn’t the first time that Chris had spoken to me like that when we were sleeping together, in fact he asked me some form of that question nearly every time. It always just seemed like some sort of egotistical dirty-talk thing for him, so I never really thought much of it once it was over. But Chris had never asked whether or not it was true in post-sex conversation before, and it scared me a bit.
Obviously, I couldn’t stay quiet forever, so I decided that the best way to answer would be with honesty. “Yeah. I meant it.” I finally said, and he lifted his head off my should to look at me. “So why are you with him?” I was once again shocked by his words, as our no-strings-attached scenario had been a very mutual decision at the start. Chris made it clear that he had commitment issues and I was already in a relationship with someone else, so it had worked out perfectly for both of us. Or so I thought before Chris rocked the boat with this conversation.
Confused, I gulped quickly and furrowed my brow as I watched his face for any sign of a joke. With a stone-still face and eyes filled with shining apprehension, I quickly realized that he was in fact being serious. “What are you saying, Chris?” I asked timidly, and in response he planted a soft kiss to the tip of my nose. “I don’t know,” He began, “I think that… I don’t know, maybe we’d be pretty good together.” His voice wavered near the end, as if he couldn’t believe that he was actually saying those words.
Trying to keep my expression neutral so that he wouldn’t freak out, I gently rubbed his back. “Chris, our situation was set up to be the way it is for a reason. You don’t want to date and I-” I paused for a moment before Chris finished my sentence. “You’re with Brad, I know. But you said it yourself that he doesn’t make you feel the way that I do. And you have to know as much as I do that our sexual chemistry isn’t just surface level.” He rambled on as I just stared up at him like a deer in headlights.
I would be lying if I said that I hadn’t ever wanted to hear him say these things to me. When I first started hooking up with Chris eight months ago, there had been a part of me that wanted more. Brad and I didn’t have the healthiest relationship, and my first time sleeping with Chris was actually my opportunity to even the score from when Brad had cheated on me a few weeks before then. But the sex had been so good, and Chris and I had gotten along so well that we decided to continue behind Brad’s back. During those first few times I would have absolutely left Brad if Chris gave me any sign that he wanted more than sex, but that was months ago. Things had grown more complicated since then, and I was truly blind-sided by this sudden confession.
“Chris, I brought Brad home to meet my parents.” I whined, growing a bit frustrated at the situation I was now in. “I know you did. And I don’t want you to feel like you have to make a decision right now, or even ever.” He brushed his hand across my cheek as he spoke. “I’ll take whatever part of you that I can get until you’re done with me, no matter what. But, I really, really want more.” My head spun so rapidly at his words that I had to close my eyes. He planted a gentle kiss on my left eyelid, and then my right, before lifting his body off of mine.
“I’m sorry, y/n. I just felt like you needed to know how I’ve been feeling.” I sat up and swung my legs over the side of the bed, and rubbed my temples in contemplation. I watched his silhouette as he grabbed a towel off his shelf, wiping himself down before passing it to me. There was a opaque hush in the room as we both cleaned up and got dressed, and I felt like I could burst at the tension.
I walked over to his desk and began collecting my notes in silence, packing them back up in my tote bag. “You’re leaving?” I heard Chris’s apprehensive voice from behind me ask as I swung the bag over my shoulder. I checked my phone, it was just after seven. “Yeah, I don’t think I’m gonna be able to focus on studying here right now. I’m sorry Chris.” I mumbled as I headed towards his bedroom door. He stayed silent, but followed me down the hall and towards the stairs. I felt a lump grow in my throat from the guilt of staying silent, and wanted nothing more than to erase the past twenty minutes from my memory. My mind fogged with confusion as I bent over to put my shoes on, and when I straightened up Chris was standing in front of me. He gave me a faux-cheerful smile, clearly not wanting me to feel bad, and I wrapped my arms around his neck in a tight hug.
Focusing on the feeling of his thumbs rubbing circles on my lower back, I stayed in his embrace for what felt like hours. Eventually, I pulled back and grabbed his face in both of my hands.
“Let me just get through my exams. I’ll call you after them all and we can figure this out, okay?” I tilted my head, hopeful that my response was enough for him right now. I felt my body relax as a shy smile crossed his face, and he nodded quickly. “Good luck, smart girl. You’re gonna kill your exams. I’ll see you when they’re all over.” He gave me a quick peck on my lips before I walked through the open front door and stumbled to my car. With shaky hands, I started my engine and began backing out of his driveway, nervous about the future but certain about what I had to do.
I just had to get through Thanksgiving with Brad and my family, survive finals week, dump my boyfriend, and come back here as soon as possible to have a very important conversation with Chris. Nothing too crazy, right?
#sturniolo triplets#chris sturniolo#christopher sturniolo#chris sturniolo x reader#chris sturniolo smut#chris sturniolo fanfic#sturniolo x reader#sturniolo smut#chris sturniolo x you#Spotify
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MIGRATION | bang chan
first date series. strangers to lovers.
pairing: bang chan x fem!reader
word count: 5.5k
genre: fluff, romance, falling in love at first sight
summary: you've never been lucky when it comes to dating, but a blind date with chan just might turn that around
chan | minho | changbin | hyunjin | jisung | felix | seungmin | jeongin
· · · ♡ series masterlist · · · ♡ taglist · · · ♡
author’s note: hello and welcome to my first date series!! i seriously had so much fun writing this and i’m so excited to continue with the other members. i hope you all enjoy! if you liked it, please remember that any and all feedback is appreciated!! happy reading <3
“So…I know a guy.”
You groan, throwing your head back against the cushion of the booth you’re currently shoved into. Changbin drops his fork to gesture at you with his hand, a look of exasperation on his face.
“Come on, I haven’t even said anything yet!”
“The problem is that you’ve said anything at all.” You say, glaring at him as you reach for your drink.
Changbin, as much as you love him, is notorious for being the worst wing man in the history of wing men. His most recent pick, Jooyoung, was a friend of his from high school. A freelance writer, the owner of a snazzy apartment in one of the more sophisticated districts of Seoul, and conveniently single. They’d recently reconnected after a mutual friend threw a party that they both went to, and he was ecstatic to try and set the two of you up.
You’d been reluctant, rightfully so, but Changbin is anything but a quitter and you also just so happen to be the world’s biggest pushover (his pout is just too good, okay?), so you’d agreed on the off chance that it just might work out.
Long story short, it didn’t.
Jooyoung was probably the biggest asshole you’d ever been on a date with. Not that you were surprised, though. Changbin’s circle of friends when he was younger mainly consisted of grade-A douchebags who were born with a golden spoon in their mouths. Perks of being born into a wealthy family and attending one of the most elite private schools in the country, apparently. Changbin had attended a university on the outskirts of Seoul for a reason. Lesser known, laid back—to study music of all things—and the sole reason for his father’s headache, as he’d put it. That’s where he met you.
“Okay, but I think this guy might be the one.” He makes air quotes around the two words, and you scoff as you cross your arms.
“And what would you know about that?”
“Um, a lot? You’re my best friend, I know exactly what you’re looking for.”
This is the part where things go south—or so you assume. Changbin puts on the puppy eyes, jutting his bottom lip out to hell as he stares at you from across the table. You glare at him dead on, unwavering. He won’t get you this time. Not over your dead body.
“At least let me tell you about him?”
“No.”
“I met him at the company. He makes music just like me, only slightly better. And you know how I am, I don’t just say that stuff. That means he’s really good.”
Choosing to ignore him, you go back to poking at your noodles.
“He’s from Australia. Born here, moved there when he was young, then moved back to pursue music. Kinda ballsy if you ask me. But he speaks English, so at least communication won’t be as much of an issue as other guys.”
A small crack in your composure. The idea of this guy growing up somewhere other than Korea is…pretty intriguing.
Despite moving here three years ago for school, it’s still kind of hard to communicate when your Korean could be more polished than it is. You’d basically kept to yourself for the first year until you met Changbin. He’d easily integrated you into his group of other music majors, even though you stuck out like a sore thumb as both a foreigner and a stem major. But if it weren’t for him, you think that you might’ve hauled ass back home a long time ago due to the isolation. So to be introduced to someone who can speak english, under the prospect of possibly dating them, sparks a bit more interest.
Changbin notices the slight twitch of your brow and smirks, one side of his mouth pulling downwards. Bastard.
“Hmm, what else? Oh! Dude’s got a killer set of dimples. You’re into that, aren’t you? You used to go on and on about that younger guy in your physics class during senior year. What was his name—Jeongsuk? Jeong—Jinyoung? Jeongin! It was Jeongin.” Changbin snaps his fingers like he’s impressed with his own memory, pointing at you as you fix him with a blank stare. “He has dimplessss.” He sing-songs for emphasis.
And, really, this should not be the breaking point. You’re better than this. You’re not so shallow that you would throw away your pride for a man you’ve never met—let alone never seen before—all because he has dimples.
But, once again, you’re a pushover. A big one. So yeah, fuck it.
“What’s his name?”
Changbin blinks like he wasn’t expecting you to fall for it. “Seriously? That’s what got you?”
“You have five seconds to tell me his name before I change my mind.”
He scoffs, mouth agape. “I went as far as disregarding my own talents to play up this guy and his music making abilities—”
“Five.”
“—tried to give you a little bit of a backstory, too—”
“Four.”
“—and the dimples are the final nail in the coffin?”
“Three.”
“Chan! His name is Chan. God. Just—stop counting. It freaks me out.”
Chan. You throw the name around in your brain for a bit, pointedly ignoring the way Changbin is whining about how you sound like his mother when you do the whole number thing. It’s kind of…cute. Not enough to conjure up an idea of what he might look like, but putting a name to a faceless stranger with dimples in your head is gonna have to do for now.
“You swear this guy is normal?”
Changbin rolls his eyes. “Define normal.”
“Okay, let me rephrase myself,” you push your plate forward, laying your forearms on the table as an indicator that you’re serious, “Is he an asshole?”
“No.”
“Hm. Okay. So that’s a maybe.”
“What the fuck? I just said no.”
“Yeah? You also set me up with Jooyoung, remember? The guy who literally started flirting with the waitress right in front of me five minutes into our date? And then proceeded to yell at her when his fries weren’t salted?”
“How was I supposed to know…” Changbin mumbles, looking off to the side guiltily.
“Nevermind. Just—if this goes bad, I’m blaming you. And then I’m never going on a blind date with one of your friends again. Matter of fact, I’m never going on a date again, period. Deal?”
Changbin grins, the apples of his cheeks shiny under the restaurant lighting. He holds his hand out for you to shake, and you take it hesitantly, grimacing when he uses his strength to jostle your arm like a ragdoll.
“Deal.”
🎥🍿
Any hope you had for the date going smoothly starts to dwindle once Chan texts you the day of.
You’d gotten his number from Changbin, who had so kindly already given Chan your number before he’d even broached the subject with you. The resulting lecture about privacy and consent may or may not have extended the rest of your time at the restaurant, a sheepish Changbin rubbing at the back of his neck while you berated him for his lack of common sense.
When your phone buzzes on your bathroom counter, Chan’s name flashing across the screen, you mistakenly think that he might be messaging because he’s early. Which, given the fact that you were standing in nothing but a towel, hair still wet from your shower and face covered in moisturizer you hadn’t rubbed into your skin yet, would be less than ideal.
Chan [12:32p.m.]
Hey! I’m really sorry to have to do this, but can we push the date back an hour?
Something came up at the studio
I tried to get out of it but I have a deadline to meet, client probably won’t be too happy of their track isn’t done on time
Great. Already off to a rough start.
In his defense though, you appreciate the fact that he’s messaged a whopping two hours in advance. Most people probably wouldn’t be bothered to allow that much of a grace period.
You [2:33p.m.]
no worries!!!
you didn’t buy the tickets yet, did you?
Chan [2:34p.m.]
Nope! So we should be fine
I’ll purchase them for 6 and then be there to scoop you up around 5:30 if that’s cool?
You [2:36p.m.]
sounds perfect
hope stuff goes well at the studio!!
Chan [2:40p.m.]
You’re sweet
Thank you, I’ll see you soon :)
You’re sweet. You stare at the words on the screen, your brain buffering for a moment. A big fat loading circle floating above your head.
Suddenly it’s way too hot in the bathroom. You blame the fact that you shower with the water cranked all the way up to boiling, because really there’s no other explanation for the warmth spreading throughout your cheeks.
To be fair, it’s been almost a year now since you’ve had any sort of positive interaction with another male. On one hand, your last relationship ended in a ‘It’s not you, it’s me’ ordeal that most definitely gave the impression that it was you. On the other hand, most of the dates you’ve been on have ruined themselves within the first five minutes, never really giving you the chance to feel any sort of connection. Cocky attitudes, overly pushy encounters, and even someone who walked into the cafe you were seated at, took one look at you, and walked right back out. That one still hurts.
It’s a little sad that Chan is the only guy out of the mix whose elicited any sort of reaction out of you. Especially since you haven’t even met him yet.
The extra hour that you have to compensate for flies by a lot quicker than you expect, and before you know it Chan is messaging that he’s five minutes away.
You take one last glance in the mirror: a pair of light wash jeans that sit right above your hips, black halter top bodysuit, and a thin cream colored cardigan to tie it all together. Simple and cute. A movie date doesn’t really call for all the dramatics, and you’d hate to overdress for a first impression.
You’re in the middle of reapplying your chapstick when the doorbell rings.
Take it easy, you say to yourself, inhaling deeply as you reach for the door handle. You let the air out with one final huff, swinging the door open only to be met by a bouquet of daisies directly in front of your face.
You blink in surprise. Well that’s a first. Before you get a chance to speak, the bouquet is being lowered, and the moment Chan’s face comes into view causes a small gasp to fall from your lips.
He’s…cute. Beautiful, even. A bright smile, dimples that tuck themselves into his laugh lines as his eyes disappear into crescents much like the moon, and lips that make your head spin when his tongue darts out to wet them nervously. His hair falls messily across his forehead in a faded hue of purple with hints of brown, definitely unconventional and an obvious result of one too many washes, but he makes it work. He makes it work well.
He clears his throat, brings a fist up to his mouth to emphasize it, and then grins. “Hi there.”
It takes a second for your brain to catch up. Even his voice is attractive. He’s using english, which leads you to assume that Changbin has already told him that you’re not from here. His accent is there, not too noticeable but also strong enough to be picked up on.
“Hey.” You smile, rubbing a hand up and down your arm.
“These are for you. I, uh, as an apology for being late. Is it too much?”
You shake your head quickly. “No! No, these are—they’re beautiful. I love them. Thank you…Chan.” His name rolls off your tongue hesitantly, but it all disappears as soon as he flashes that smile again.
“Good, I’m glad,” his voice catches the breathy end of the laugh he lets out, “This is weird, isn’t it? I’m sorry, I don’t really do well with this kind of stuff. But you look really nice, and I’m excited. My car is parked just out front if you’re ready to go.”
Honest. Awkward. A laugh that makes you want to hear it over and over again. You were sold the minute his eyes met yours. Chan offers his elbow for you to take like you’re in some cheesy romance movie from your childhood.
Yeah. This one is definitely gonna go well.
🎥🍿
Chan might not show it, but he’s just as nervous as you are.
You wouldn’t be able to tell at first glance that he spent an entire forty-five minutes deciding on an outfit, only to settle with some jeans and a white shirt, a jacket thrown on top for some color.
When Changbin first proposed the idea of going on a date with you, he was adamant that he wasn’t looking for anything right now. But as soon as you opened the door, eyes wide and looking like the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen, he’s glad he said yes.
“So what movie are we seeing?” you ask, frowning when Chan laughs. “What? What’s funny?”
“It’s a surprise.” He smiles, rushing forward to hold the door of the car open for you. When he puts his hand against the top part to block your head, you have to suppress the smattering of butterfly wings that start to clamor against your ribcage.
Chan is sweet. He double checks that you’re buckled in before driving off, he asks if there’s any specific music you want to listen to before foregoing it all entirely to ask about you instead, he listens with an attentiveness that has you feeling seen and heard, and he smiles with such genuinity and warmth that you feel cold once it disappears. You stare at him in awe, like he’s a figment of your imagination.
Chan’s been staring back, too. He spares glances in your direction when you’re not looking, feels the steady thump of his heart gradually increase whenever you lean a little too far to the left when he makes you laugh, and he thinks your voice is prettier than anything that’s ever played on the radio.
You learn more about him as he drives. He moved back from Australia when he was seventeen, he’s got two younger siblings and an adorable puppy named Berry back home (and pictures on his dashboard to prove it), he prefers Australia’s summers over Seoul’s winters but he finds more inspiration here in the city than anywhere else. You resonate with the fact that he doesn’t really have anyone here besides a small circle of friends. No family, no one to fall back on when things get tough.
Chan talks like he’s an old friend, like he’s re-telling a story you’ve heard a thousand times. He makes it easy to fall into step with him as if you’ve been here all along.
By the time the two of you get to the movie theater, the initial awkwardness that had hung in the air is gone, replaced by comfort and ease. Chan throws the car in park and all but books it out of his seat to open your door for you, and you giggle when he makes a dramatic bow as you exit.
The theater is kind of busy for a Thursday night. There are families with their kids lined up to get tickets and groups of teenagers at the concessions, all of which make for a crowded lobby. Chan glances down when you place a hand on his arm, mostly because you want to stay close, but also because it’s hard to ignore the feeling of being magnetized towards him. He smiles, bending at the elbow to allow your arm to slip into his.
There are cardboard cutouts along the sides of the lobby, all of which serve to promote the newest animated release about a family of ducks. You squint at the showtimes once the two of you make it to the front of the counter, letting your eyes scan the movie titles until you finally land on—
“Two tickets for Migration, under Bang Chan.”
The girl behind the counter looks up, her eyes bored. She can’t be any older than sixteen, most likely resentful about the fact that she’s stuck here on a school night. “The kids movie?” She asks, unimpressed.
Chan braves a glance in your direction and—ah, there goes that grin again. Cue the butterflies. You’d agree to a three hour long showing of static and white noise if it meant he’d never stop doing that.
“Yup, that’s the one.”
Tickets in hand, a smiling Chan right next to you, and a massive line for popcorn that honestly might have the two of you late for the previews. “We’re seeing a kids movie?” You ask, moving up a spot in the line.
“Mmhm. I spent so long looking at all the options. The romcoms seemed boring, Bin mentioned that the newest superhero movie was bad, and I figured a scary one was too cliché,” he eyes you sidelong, “Unless you’re into that.”
You huff out a laugh, not really expecting him to be so straightforward, “I definitely am not.”
“Hm, so the old yawn to put my arm around you trick won’t work?” His eyes are playful, but something about the idea of being in even more contact with him has your stomach doing flips.
“Nope. Sorry. Seen that one before.” You say, making him laugh, his earring dangling when he drops his chin towards his chest.
“I guess I’ll have to figure out something else then.”
Another thing you learn about Chan is that he enjoys interesting food combinations.
“You like peanut m&ms?” he asks, throwing a bag of them onto the counter when you nod your head. After he pays, he pockets his wallet and turns to you with a bucket of popcorn tucked under his arm and a large drink with two straws in his hand. “Could you grab the candy?”
First door, theater one. There are a bunch of parents and their kids entering ahead of you, all of them buzzing with excitement. It’s a little funny, the fact that two grown adults—no kid in tow—are walking into the showing of a kids movie.
Chan leads you to the very back row. “For the kids, just in case they can’t see over us.” He quickly clarifies after noticing the way your eyebrows shoot up in silent question, but even in the dim lighting you can still see the tips of his ears turning pink.
“Taking me to a kids movie and then propositioning me in the presence of five year olds? You’ve got some nerve.” You say, timing it perfectly as Chan is leaning forward to take a sip of the drink that’s placed in the cupholder between the two of you. He sputters around the straw in surprise, coughing into his fist.
“That’s not—” You laugh, cutting him off as he stares at you with red eyes from his coughing fit. The mood shifts after that, and Chan visibly relaxes into his seat as he starts throwing jokes out a lot easier than before.
“Learned this from my dad,” he says, opening the bag of m&ms, “It’s my favorite thing to do at the movies. Haven’t been in a while because—well, I don’t really have anyone to go with.”
You watch as he dumps the candy into the popcorn bucket, shaking it to mix everything together. He reaches in to grab a piece of popcorn and an m&m at the same time, popping it into his mouth.
“Oh my god,” he sighs, slumping into his seat, “Forgot how good that is.”
When you don’t respond, he looks over. “You okay?”
Are you? You’re not sure. Every bone in your body is screaming bloody murder because Chan is making it really hard to not want to lean over and kiss the concerned frown off of his stupidly pretty face.
The thing about it is that you don’t do blind dates. And you most especially don’t enjoy them. But Chan is different. Chan holds doors open for you and makes corny jokes. Chan laughs at everything like it’s his last day on earth and he’s making up for lost time. Chan listens when you talk and responds with genuine interest. Chan compliments the little girl in the theater lobby who’s wearing a princess dress to watch the new superhero movie. Chan shares something as special as his dad’s favorite movie snack with you. Chan is just…Chan. And you like him. A lot.
“Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay, I’m just—thank you. For sharing that with me.” You say, the corners of your mouth lifting.
“Stop doing that.” He mumbles, eyes trained ahead.
“Doing what?”
“Smiling. It makes my head spin.”
Your heart slams against your chest. You’ve spent the entire date trying to make sense of the way Chan makes you feel, trying to put it all into words. Yet here he is, right in front of you, saying his thoughts as they come and absolutely ruining your resolve in the process. Like it’s easy for him.
There’s no time to answer when the lights go down, the screen up front widening to signal the start of the movie.
Just like any other kids movie, it’s easy to get caught up in all the surface level jokes while also understanding the themes. You and Chan laugh outwardly at some parts, hold your breath at the suspenseful ones. It’s almost like you’re a kid again, enjoying yourself fully for the first time in a really, really long while.
Chan was right, the popcorn and m&m combination is good. You reach back into the bucket for more, freezing when Chan does the same and his knuckles brush yours in the slightest of touches, sending a jolt of electricity up your arm. It happens a few more times, each one leaving his hand lingering for far longer than the last, until eventually he makes a show of digging really hard for an m&m and hooks his pinky with yours in between the popcorn. It’s cheesy and cliché but god does it make your stomach do somersaults.
About three-quarters of the way through the movie, when it’s clear that neither one of you are willing to take it the next step further, you lean into his ear.
“You okay? You look kind of tired.”
Chan turns, confused. He’s certain that he wasn’t dozing off. He did have a late night last night. He was up working on the track that still somehow managed to hold him back today, hoping to have everything polished so that he didn’t run into any obstacles before your date. But that didn’t really work out in the end.
“Huh? No, I’m fine. Honest.”
“You sure?” you ask, a slight lift to your voice, “I don’t know, you looked like you were about to yawn.”
The light from the movie hits the left side of his face, illuminating all of his features in a way that makes your breath hitch. He’s pretty. So, so pretty.
Chan blinks, slow, and then his confusion slowly turns to one of understanding. Cue the grin.
“You know, now that I’m thinking about it…I am kind of tired.” He makes a show of fake yawning, stretches his arms above his head (and not blocking any children since you’re in the back row, thankfully), before bringing his right arm down and around your shoulders.
You spend the rest of the movie like that, tucked into Chan’s side while his fingers move gently against your shoulder. He’s unbelievably warm, and eventually you find your head resting in the spot just between his shoulder and his neck, his cheek pushed up against the side of your head. The position makes it easier to reach up and pat his eyes dry at the end, a single tear slipping out as he sniffled and mumbles a ‘M’not crying’ that has you giggling and doting all over him.
He doesn’t move his arm for the entire walk back to the car, and you momentarily mourn the loss when he opens the door for you (again!) so you can climb in. When he finally gets in on the other side, he says nothing, just reaches over to intertwine his fingers with yours and places your joined hands on the center console like it’s something you’ve done a thousand times.
“Ready to go home?” He asks, looking over at you.
You glance down at your hands, then back up at him. “Is it weird if I say no?”
“Not at all,” Chan grins, throwing the car into drive, “I was hoping you would say that.”
🎥🍿
“For you.”
Chan plops down on the bench, a hand outstretched with a steaming hot chocolate ready for you to take.
“Thanks,” you smile, cradling the cup between your hands.
After some deliberation, you and Chan had decided to come to the Han River. It’s quiet, the bridge lights reflecting off the water as the sounds of the city fade into the background. The temperature is slightly on the colder side, the tail end of winter just barely there. When he notices the slight shiver of your shoulders after a particularly strong gust of wind, Chan shucks his jacket off in a heartbeat to drape over you.
“Oh, you don’t—”
“You’re cold,” he scolds, pulling at the collar of the jacket to tighten it around you. His hand lingers near the base of your neck, fingers itching to reach out and touch. He doesn’t though, just smiles and settles back into the bench. “Plus I think Changbin might actually kill me if something were to happen to you.”
“Oh please,” you roll your eyes, “Ignore him. I’m not a baby.”
Chan takes a sip of his own hot chocolate, licks his lips to catch the excess. Not that you’re staring. “I’m serious. I mean, I get it. He told me that you’re here alone and stuff.”
You hum in understanding, turning your head to stare out at the water. “So are you.”
It’s Chan’s turn to look at you now, his elbows resting against his knees, and you watch out of the corner of your eye as his face turns unreadable.
The silence stretches thin, nothing but the sound of cars passing and a dog barking nearby. It’s kind of comforting in a way. Being on your own in a new place has been one of the hardest transitions you’ve ever had to deal with. There were times where it felt like a mistake, where you wished that you’d never even gotten on the plane. But then there were times where you felt lucky to be experiencing the things you are; to be able to try new things and pursue a life for yourself that you never thought possible.
“How’d you do it?” you ask quietly, turning to meet Chan’s gaze. “I mean, you were young. Seventeen is basically still a kid. Being alone in a place like this is scary as an adult, I can’t even imagine what that was like.”
Chan smiles, but it’s sad. His eyes twinkle with something like resentment, the lights from the bridge making it look like he’s glowing. A flame that’ll never burn out. “Would you believe me if I said I’m still figuring it out?” The end of it comes out as a laugh, but you can tell he means it.
“I don’t know, being a big shot music producer with deadlines and clients seems pretty figured out to me.”
Chan nods and stares at the cup in his hands. “My parents hated it. Still do, I think.” You don’t say anything. Chan is grateful for that; grateful for the space you’re giving him to explain. “They wanted more for me I guess. But I’m not sure that more would’ve necessarily been what I wanted, you know? I’m content with where I am now. I’m doing something I love, even if it took a while to get here. They don’t see it.” He chews his lip nervously, fingers playing with the soggy material of the paper cup’s rim.
Chan doesn’t know why he’s saying any of this. He’s not the type to completely bare himself out to anyone, to scoop away at his insides until there’s nothing left besides the hollowness he feels whenever he thinks about how he traded his life back home for a life of music. But you’re different somehow. Chan knew since the moment he saw you, felt it in the way your eyes lit up whenever he spoke and in the ease of how well the two of you got along. He was doomed from the start.
“I see it.” you say, your eyes still fixed on the water. “I might’ve only just met you today, but I see it. And I get it, too. Maybe not to the same extent, but the feeling of wanting to do something for yourself even if it meant losing something else. There’s purpose in that, in you. It’s okay to be selfish if it means you’re prioritizing your happiness.” You let the words settle for a bit, hoping that you don’t sound too shallow. When you turn to look at him, he’s already looking back.
“You don’t know me enough to say that.”
“I don’t have to know you to believe in you, Chan.”
A beat of silence, and then he’s laughing, short and punctuated as he lets his head fall forward with a small shake.
“You’re…”
“What? Corny?” you supply, smiling over at him.
“No,” he says, meeting your gaze. “Perfect.”
You huff out an incredulous laugh, looking away to hide the blush that’s spreading across your cheeks. “You can’t just—god, now who’s corny? Huh?”
“I never said I wasn’t corny.” Chan argues, sitting up to face you fully.
“Yeah but you can’t just say stuff like that.”
“Why not? I think you like it.”
Your mouth opens and closes quickly, lost for words. Chan’s closer now, a lot closer than he was before. One arm thrown across the back of the bench, loosely framing you in, he bends it at the elbow to bring a hand up and tuck your hair behind your ear.
“I never said that.” you mumble, your gaze flicking down to his lips and then back up again.
“You want me to stop then?” he asks, voice just above a whisper. You know what he’s implying the minute his fingers trace the shell of your ear, moving down slowly until they start playing with the collar of his jacket.
“Is it bad if I say no?”
Chan’s hand is warm to the touch, ice to fire. You lean into it. A moth to a flame, one that’ll never go out.
“Not at all,” he repeats, just like earlier, “I was hoping you would say that.”
A dog barking in the distance. Cars beeping as they pass by. A plane flying overhead. A group of friends laughing as they ride past on their bikes. The minute Chan’s lips connect with yours, everything fades, the sounds warbling together like static. Unintelligible; nothing besides the feeling of Chan kissing you matters.
It’s slow, nothing more than a press, but you feel it in every fiber of your being. Kissing Chan feels like the poles of the earth are colliding, meeting in the middle and sending its molten core spreading throughout your entire body. Warm, warm, warm. Chan is warm. He’s soft and gentle and his lashes tickle your cheeks when his eyes flutter closed halfway through because he was too busy etching your features into his memory.
You’re the first to pull away, admiring the way Chan’s eyes slowly peel open, lips swollen and pink. Unable to resist, you lean in and peck them once more, giggling when he blinks at you in shock.
“I don’t think I’ve ever been as compelled to kiss someone as I was just now.” You smile.
“Me too,” he sighs, resting his forehead against yours. “I don’t normally kiss on the first date.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t normally do dates anyways. At least not ones that don’t immediately go up in flames.”
“What about now?” Chan asks, raising an eyebrow. “Have I changed your mind?”
“Hmm, I don’t know. I kind of told Changbin that if this was a disaster I was never gonna go on a date again.”
Chan laughs and pulls you into his side, tucked right under his arm like the shape of him was molded in a way to make sure that you fit perfectly in his embrace.
“Is it bad if I say I like that idea?” He asks, glancing down at where your head is resting against his chest.
“Nope,” you say before leaning up to kiss him once more. He smiles into it when he feels your fingers playing with the curls at the nape of his neck, humming softly against your lips.
“Worst date ever, then?” he mumbles against your mouth.
“Yeah,” you sigh, pulling back to stare into his eyes, big and brown and brighter than the stars, “Worst date ever.”
[tags: @palindrome969 @summergirlsmj @n1staytiny ]
© all rights reserved. godslino 2024. please do not steal, translate, or re-upload.
#bang chan x reader#bang chan fluff#bang chan angst#bang chan fic#bang chan fanfic#bang chan fanfiction#skz x reader#skz fanfic#skz fic#skz fanfiction#skz smut#skz fluff#skz angst#bang chan#stray kids#skz#first date series
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MAD MAN
A/N: he looked like a snack, his ce vibes were too strong to hold them back
base of the idea was by @harrysblackcoat
WORD COUNT: 1.3k
SUMMARY: You came to the game to forget about the massive fight you had with Harry a few days ago, but your alone time is soon interrupted by the man you've been trying to avoid.
MASTERLIST | SUPPORT ME!
You weren’t planning to come today. Well, you were, until about four days ago, but then the whole ordeal happened with Harry and suddenly you didn’t want to do anything else than stay at home, cry or either sleep until you forget about the shit you both said.
It was nasty. You don’t even remember how it started, maybe it was because he got home too late, or was it because you couldn’t choose a restaurant again and it always drives him crazy.
You have no idea what started it, you only remember how bad it got. Screaming, shouting, saying the worst things you ever did and probably neither of you meant. But you said them and you can’t take them back.
Maybe packing your stuff and leaving wasn’t your best idea, but you needed time and space. Harry has been blowing your phone up ever since, but you feel like you need just a little bit more time away from him to think about… well, the two of you.
You’ve had the ticket for months and you didn’t have the heart to miss out on the game just because of what happened. So you pulled yourself out of your depression cave, aka your old apartment you still haven’t sold since moving in with Harry and came to the game. Now you’re sitting in your usual seat, waiting for it to start while trying your best to keep him out of your thoughts at least until the end.
Looking across the stadium you see the VIP section and immediately, you fail at not thinking about him, because you think of how he is the kind of man that would be standing there, sipping on something fancy and expensive.
Groaning you turn your attention to your drink, playing with the straw, but then you remember the time you explained to Harry why this is your favorite seat in the stadium.
“Okay, enlighten me, baby,” he smirked at you, pulling you to his lap after pushing himself away from his desk.
“It’s close to the exit, I can leave before the crowd gets moving, the toilet is 20 seconds away and the line is always short, because the one by the F stairs is more popular. And…” You peaked at him, checking if he was still listening and there he was, giving you his undivided attention with a cheesy smirk on his handsome face. “And the drinks are better in the buffet that’s behind.”
“Better?” he chuckled. “Baby, they are the same.”
“Nope,” you shook your head. “It’s less… watery.”
“Mm, if you say so,” he smirked and then kissed you, making you forget about what you were talking about just a moment ago.
You need to blink your tears away. You promised yourself you wouldn’t be crying during this game, that you wouldn’t think about how much you miss him and how even despite the fight you love him more than anyone.
You dig into your bag for a tissue, right when someone tries to squeeze past you to their seat. The tall man inches into the row, his long coat brushing your knees while you’re still elbow deep in your bag and you faintly register that he sits beside you.
“Here,” he deep voice speaks up beside you and you know who it is even before his hand moves into your view, holding out a tissue.
“What are you doing here?” you ask, taking the tissue without looking at him.
“Why do people come to football matches?” he asks back and you can’t stop yourself from rolling your eyes. “I’m here because you wouldn’t answer the phone.”
“That might mean that I don’t want to talk to you,” you casually reply, staring ahead of you.
Harry exhales sharply beside you and his knee presses against yours, making you gasp.
“Y/N, I hope you didn’t think I would just let you slip out of my hands like that, right? We need to talk.”
“And you thought a football game would be the best place for that?”
“This seems to be the only way to get you to talk to me, so yeah.”
“How did you even know I would be sitting here?”
“Because you told me this is your favorite seat.”
“I did not. I just told you I have one, I never told you it’s this one.”
You sit in silence for a bit, trying to figure out if maybe you did tell him the exact seat, but you get to the same point: you didn’t.
“I never told you, so how did you know?” you ask and finally look at him. His beauty strikes you, as always, the chiseled jawline, the slope of his nose, the curly lashes, he still takes your breath away.
He runs his tongue across his lips and then looks at you.
“The drink,” he then finally says.
“What?”
“The drink. It really is better here.” You watch him and he continues. “I tried… I tried them all in the stadium and it really is less watery.”
He tried them all. He went around the stadium and tried them all to figure out where you’re sitting.
“Now that you’re listening to me, can we talk?” he then asks with a soft smile. “Or it could be just me speaking, but I really want to tell you what I’ve been thinking about the past few days.”
“Okay,” you breathe out. “Talk then.”
His gaze lingers on your face, as if he is taking in every tiny detail before speaking up again.
“I fucked up, Y/N. I said all those terrible things in the heat of the moment and I regretted them right away. I didn’t mean any of them.”
“Not even when you said that all I do is get on your nerves?” you find yourself asking.
“You do get on my nerves, Y/N,” he says and you’re just about to open your mouth, but he is quick to continue. “You make me go crazy in the best way possible. With your silly dancing in the kitchen, the way you sing every song with the wrong lyrics and swear your version is the right. When you get mad at me for using words you don’t know the meaning of, or when you put me in my place when I’m being a total ass… you make me go crazy… for you.”
Your eyes are tearing up again and when his hand moves to your knee you lean closer to him, wanting more of his touch instantly.
“I love you, Y/N. I never thought I could love someone this much, but you just always prove me wrong,” he chuckles softly and your hand finds his on your leg, your fingers locking together. “Please come back. I’m nothing without you. Come back and get on my nerves every day because I want to be a mad man, but only if it’s you who makes me crazy.”
Now you’re fighting the urge to cry like a baby. You love this man and you can’t imagine a day when you won’t.
“I’m sorry too,” you whisper, tears rolling down your cheeks. He reaches up and wipes them with his thumb. “I didn’t mean it when I said you must be fucking all your assistants at work.”
“That hurt,” he smiles bitterly.
“I just… I still wonder why you chose me,” you admit with a shrug.
“Because you’re the one for me,” he simply answers, as if it was the most obvious thing ever. You take a deep breath and exhale it shakily before leaning in and kissing him. The game starts right when your lips meet, but all the screaming and clapping tunes out as you’re back in the arms of the man you love.
“Do you want to move to the VIP section?” you ask.
“Nope,” he smirks down at you. “This really is the best seat.”
“See? I told you!” chuckling, you just pull him in for another kiss before making yourself comfortable with his arm around your shoulders.
Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!
#harry#styles#harry styles#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles fanfic#harry styles oneshot#harry styles one shot#harry styles fluff#harry styles x you#harry styles x y/n#harry styles x reader#harry styles blurb
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stalemate
pairing: Frankie Morales x f!reader
words: 7.2k
summary: Frankie Morales is your best friend — until a drunken hookup tears you apart.
warnings: 18+ minors dni; friends -> enemies -> lovers, TF characters without the TF plot, no Tom (in this house we hate Tom), alcohol consumption, smoking, angst, jealousy, pining, Frankie & reader being idiots in love, explicit smut, size kink, brief mentions of drunk sex, bad / regretful sex (between reader & OC), oral (f!receiving), unprotected piv, creampie, multiple orgasms, use of pet names (bebita, querida, baby, etc.), grilled cheese as a love language, happy ending, I think that's it but let me know if I missed anything!
a/n: thank you so much to @javisashtray & @pedgito for beta-reading this for me <3 this is for all my frankie lovers out there (aka bitches with good taste). dividers are by cafekitsune. follow @joelscurlsupdates for fic notifications! enjoy :)
Frankie Morales makes the best grilled cheese you’ve ever had. Perfectly golden bread; gooey, melty cheese — just the thought of it makes you drool. He says he has a secret ingredient. Won’t let you in the kitchen while he cooks for you, lest you find out.
Sometimes, upon entering his apartment, you can already smell melted butter. He’ll have started on one without even asking if you want it. He knows you always do.
Sit, he’ll shout from the other room. I’ll be right there. Feel free to put something on — but please, not 13 Going on 30. You’ll thank him and question his distaste for Mark Ruffalo in the same breath: you’re the best, but it’s not my fault Matty is the dream man.
He’ll bring you the wafting plate along with a Corona, and insist that you eat before it goes cold while he makes one for himself. Ever the gentleman, ever the friend — at least he was.
Because the two of you haven’t spoken in a month; not since the drunken hookup that you’re both pretending didn’t happen.
You’d laughed the entire cab ride home from the bar. That last round of tequila shots had left you feeling good, all warm and giggly, and Frankie mirrored you in the backseat with his drunken grin. Eyes glassy, lips pulled wide, he’d smacked you lightly on the shoulder as you recalled Santiago’s pitiful loss in that third game of pool. “When he pocketed the eight-ball…” he trailed off into another fit of laughter.
“And then—“ you attempted, voice caught in your throat as another giggle barreled out. “—the cue hitting his drink!” Your entire body folded over, hands braced on Frankie’s thighs as the two of you struggled to regain composure. Through labored breaths, you squealed. “He’s never going to live that down!”
After a few particularly stressful months at work, you lived for these nights out with your friends. You’d met Frankie through your best friend Mal, who was dating his friend Benny, and your circles had eventually meshed into one. Sometimes it felt like it had always been that way, like you’d known the guys your entire life.
Especially Frankie.
Your friendship was a special one — punctuated by frequent trips to the movies to watch the latest horrible slasher film; by nights spent yapping on the phone about nothing in particular. He’d become a constant in your life. Never, in your right mind, would you even dream of doing anything to jeopardize that—
“You look really hot tonight, by the way.”
He shouldn’t have said that. He shouldn’t have. But then it was you who leaned in closer, you who rested your hand on his hip and plucked the Standard Heating Oil cap off his head, placing it atop your own.
It was you who kissed him first.
He deepened it though — that was all him — large, restless hands grasping at your sides, your back, your face; tongue pushing past the seam of your lips to press against yours. He’d groaned into your mouth when the cab stopped at the curb in front of your building. Cursed under his breath when you pulled away.
And then, your voice ragged and breathless, you’d asked, “do you want to come in for a bit?”
It was a mistake. A horrible, blissful mistake. Waking up with sticky thighs and Frankie’s thumbprint bruised into your hip, you’d found his side of the bed cold; your inbox empty. He hadn’t called, hadn’t texted. Still hasn’t.
The aftermath is cursory glances. Half-assed greetings and pleasantries murmured across the bar. Which you don’t mind, really. You don’t want to speak to him. He’d probably just feed you some lie about losing track of time, not remembering what happened that night.
You wish you could forget it.
The visual is fuzzy; fleeting. But his voice — god, his voice — it still rings in your ears, drips at the nape of your neck like a leaking tap: fuck, baby, knew you’d take my cock; feel so good wrapped around me.
Your friends don’t know. They can’t; they wouldn’t let you live it down. Benny has made plenty of offhand comments already about you and Frankie being perfect for each other, having the same stubborn disposition. Mal does nothing to shut him up. Instead, she encourages him. Tells him he’s so right.
You’re pretty sure your eyeballs are going to fall out someday from glaring too hard.
Because you’re not perfect for each other — far from it, actually. Fuck, you can’t even communicate effectively. How could you ever be in a real relationship?
Not that you want that. Frankie is…well, Frankie. Sure, he’d felt undeniably incredible on top of you, inside of you — but he isn’t the type to settle down. In fact, you don’t think you’ve ever heard Frankie talk about dating.
Besides, he’s clearly not interested in being anyone’s anything right now. Not even your friend.
It hurts; cuts deeper than you care to admit. Just weeks ago, you’d spent an entire weekend at his place, marathoning the X Files and gorging on cold pizza. Now, he won’t even look your way for more than a few seconds.
Won’t make you a fucking grilled cheese.
It’s a Friday night, which means you’re meeting your friends at Sid’s. The glow of neon seeping through the windows of the old dive bar is warm and inviting as you step out of your rideshare and make your way toward the doors.
Frankie is sitting at the bar with Santiago when you enter. Hunched shoulders, narrowed eyes trained on his bottle of Corona, he appears detached from whatever Santi is saying to him. He doesn’t acknowledge you when you stroll up to them — not until his friend’s hand lands hard on his back, pulling his attention away from the beer. He offers a half-assed hello and an even more half-assed half-hug, and then he’s sliding back onto his barstool.
Ever-oblivious, Santiago doesn’t seem to notice the way Frankie curls in on himself; the way your back is up like an agitated cat’s.
Mal and Benny turn up minutes later, immediately ordering a round of shots for the group. You down the liquor eagerly, not bothering to lean on salt and lime to numb the sting. You want to feel it. You order another before joining Mal and the guys at a pool table in the back, letting the acid slide down your throat with no more than a wince as Santi racks the balls.
“Alright Fish, you’re up,” he says. “Me and you. Whoever loses buys the next round.”
You watch as Frankie quirks a brow at him. Takes a swig of his beer. “You sure you want to make that bet, Pope?”
Santi grins; nods confidently. “Hell yeah, I do.” The rest of you don’t bother to suppress your laughter. You catch a glimpse of Frankie, head thrown back, his broad, glistening neck exposed, and you have to fight to ignore the sudden panging in your chest.
When Santi inevitably loses, you order a vodka soda. You’re already feeling a bit tipsy after two shots in less than twenty minutes, so the drink goes down smooth; quick. There’s a rush to your head as you settle back at the bar and fiddle with the wrapper to your straw, letting the slightly soggy paper roll between two fingers.
You barely notice when Frankie slots in a few seats down, your attention drawn only when you hear his voice. It’s deep — sounds just like it did when he had his chest pressed to your back in the dim light of your bedroom — and his intonation nearly gives you whiplash.
When you snap your head up to look at him, you find he’s speaking to a woman. Her back is turned to you, long, dark hair tossed over her shoulder and her elbow resting casually on the bartop, but you imagine she must be beautiful by the way Frankie is visibly fawning over her. You’re staring, you hear her tease. Can’t help it, comes his reply.
Something like discomfort builds in your throat. Rises up up up. You take a long sip of your drink, letting vodka and sugar push it down.
You’ve never seen Frankie flirt with anyone, apart from you. It’s strangely unsettling, listening to him smooth-talk her. I’m a pilot, you know, he brags; could take you up in the sky someday if you wanted. Her giddy squeal comes seconds later; really? You’d do that for me?
You feel bad for her. She doesn’t know yet that all he’ll do is disappoint her.
He feeds her lines as you sip on your drink, citrus and grain burning only when he tells her: yeah, I came with friends; they’re all over there. Gestures toward Benny, Mal and Santi standing around the pool table in the back.
Scoffing, you stand from your seat at the bar and retreat to the patio. You don’t bother to check if Frankie is looking.
It’s cooler here, a sobering breeze carrying salt air with it as it wafts by. A few patrons have spilled outside, most smoking on faintly glowing cigarettes as they talk and laugh boisterously among themselves. You’d planned to sit alone, to plant yourself on a bench and enjoy your drink in solitude. But then a stranger is approaching you — a man, cigarette grasped between two of his fingers — and he’s asking you for a light.
He’s in his mid thirties, if you had to guess. Curly, dark hair sprouts every which way from his scalp; rounded, green eyes studying you as he awaits a response. He’s tall, though not as tall as Frankie. His shoulders aren’t nearly as broad and his chest isn’t quite as wide. His t-shirt hangs loose around his torso, swallowing his narrow frame — dissimilar to the way Frankie’s button-down clings to him.
Then again — why are you even comparing? Maybe the opposite of Frankie is exactly what you need.
You’ll have to seduce this stranger first, though. Not that it seems like it’ll be very difficult. His eyes are already raking over you, lips turned up at the corner as you take a casual sip of your drink.
“I don’t smoke,” you admit apologetically.
“Ah — that’s alright.”
He has an accent; midwestern, maybe? You don’t bother to ask. You don’t care, really. It doesn’t matter. All that matters is—
“You here all by yourself?”
“Yeah,” he laughs at your lack of subtlety. “Are you?”
“No,” you say. “My friends are inside.” Lowering your voice, you add, “but I was thinking about leaving soon.”
“Why’s that? Early morning tomorrow?”
You shake your head. Rub at your neck as if working out a knot, a contented hum pushing past your lips at the press of fingers into skin. Your stranger’s eyes trail rather conspicuously downward.
“Just over it,” you sigh exasperatedly. “I’d much rather be home…in bed…out of these clothes.”
You pull gently at the strap of your dress, as if you can’t bear the sensation of it against your shoulder any longer.
Your stranger’s gaze darkens, and the grip on his box of cigarettes grows tighter.
“You uh — want some company — once I find a light?”
Too fucking easy.
“Sure,” you giggle.
He slips away only for a minute or two, giving you just enough time to second-guess yourself. You know nothing about this man, not even his name; only that he smokes American Spirits and smells like tobacco. Should you really go home with him?
But then you think of Frankie inside — talking up a woman at the bar, pretending that you don’t exist — and that just about makes up your mind for you.
Your stranger reappears, now-lit cigarette dangling from his lips. The tip of it rages red and angry, and you think you know how that feels.
He smirks at you as he stuffs the pack into the front pocket of his jeans. An unceremonious silence hangs in the air as he sucks on the filter and puffs out a string of smoke. You wait patiently for him, quietly.
He snuffs the butt of his cigarette out in a nearby ashtray. Takes your empty cup and discards that too.
Can’t wait to get you home, he whispers in your ear then. You feign arousal, peering up at him and batting your eyelashes. Me neither, you mewl. Let’s go.
You lead him back through the bar, finding Mal and letting her know that you’ll be going. She seems a little perplexed, quirking a brow at you as you grip tightly onto your stranger’s arm, but she tells you to have fun anyway. Text me, she mouths as you make your way to the exit.
You only get a few feet, though, before you’re intercepted.
Frankie is blocking the door, arms crossed, a panic-stricken look on his face that you can’t quite comprehend. “Hey,” he says, “can I talk to you real quick?”
Your stranger backs off. Lets go of your arm and starts out the door. “I’ll wait outside,” he says, slipping away with a wink before you can protest.
The bar is bustling with noise, people in every corner drinking and laughing and dancing. Strangely, though, you’ve never felt so alone. So vulnerable. And you hate that Frankie has this power over you, the innate ability to make you feel so fucking small. It’s infuriating, it’s—
“Are you sure you want to leave with him?”
“Excuse me?” you scoff.
Frankie stares you down, face red, eyes inky-black. “You don’t know this guy, do you? What if he’s a murderer or something? Or like — a pervert?”
He’s grasping at straws, you know it. It’s why you laugh; roll your eyes.
“What are you, my keeper?”
“No, it’s just — I’m just concerned for your safety, okay?”
You’re briefly stunned. After weeks of ignoring you, he cares about your wellbeing? How can he be so hypocritical?
“I’m fine,” you bite back. “Why don’t you go back to your girl at the bar? Worry about getting yourself some instead?”
He’s wounded, if only slightly. His lips part like he might retaliate, but he’s silent. Dejected. Satisfied, you brush past him. March out the door without so much as a parting glance.
Finding your stranger leaning against the bar’s brick exterior, you force a smile. He outstretches a hand and you take it, reluctantly. “Ready to go?” he asks.
You’re not so sure anymore, but you nod anyway. Squeeze your stranger’s bicep and preen under his lustful gaze when he tenses in your grip. “Yeah,” you purr. “I’m ready.”
Cold air bites at your toes the following morning. It wakes you from a deep slumber; bitterly pulls you into consciousness. Confused, you yank at the covers. But a mysterious weight holds them in place, and only then do you remember then that you’re not alone.
Eyes sliding open reluctantly, you scan the room. Your dress from the night before is draped over the chair in the corner, your stranger’s clothes piled up on the floor nearby. He snores next to you, an arm raising to hang above his head, and you shift. Slip out of bed and pull a t-shirt on before padding into the bathroom.
Early morning light spills across tile, bounces off the mirror above the sink. You squint, shuffling over to the window and yanking the blinds closed. Then you check for damage in your reflection. Your makeup from the night before has stained your cheeks and your eyes look as tired as you feel, but otherwise there appears to be no physical evidence of your rock bottom.
The sex wasn’t great — not even good, really. Your stranger had lasted all of three minutes, had fanned his hot breath across the shell of your ear as he came, and then collapsed on top of you. Rolled over and drifted to sleep. He’d started snoring before you could even process what had just happened.
Cold water splashed across your cheeks does nothing to cool the burn of regret that scorches your skin. You feel uncomfortable, almost as if your body is tainted, now, remnants of your stranger leaking from between your thighs as you steady yourself at the edge of the sink.
He must’ve heard the tap, or maybe the pounding in your chest, because he emerges seconds later. He yawns and stretches, feline-like, in the doorway. “Hey,” he mutters. “How’d you sleep?”
“Pretty good,” you say, eyes twitching slightly as you will them to stay put above his waistline.
“You always up this early?”
You nod. It’s a lie, but he doesn’t need to know that you’d nearly jumped out of bed at the sight of him still there. He doesn’t need to know that for a split second, you’d almost hoped it was Frankie.
He asks if you want to get breakfast. You shake your head in faux-sympathy. “Sorry, can’t. I was hoping to get some cleaning done.”
“I could stick around and help,” he offers.
Jesus Christ. Just take the fucking hint.
“That’s so nice of you; I’m just more efficient by myself,” you lie again.
If Frankie were here, he’d grab the cleaning rags out of the closet just off the kitchen. He knows where they’re kept: second shelf, on the left. He’d wipe down the counters and the coffee table while you’d work on clearing dishes, disposing of pizza scraps. And he’d probably put on his dad-rock playlist — against your wishes — though you’d inevitably find yourself dancing to Foo Fighters and giggling when he’d sing along and mess up the words.
It begins to sink in then, as you shoo your stranger, now dressed, out the door, that your attempt to use sex as a way to get Frankie out of your head was useless. He’s still there, refusing quite adamantly to budge, all mussed curls and big eyes and deep voice. There’s no evidence that he’ll be leaving any time soon.
The revelation renders you nauseous. You spend the rest of the day with a hangover that you’re sure has not been induced by alcohol. And by the time night falls, darkness descending over your bedroom like a fog, you still feel sick.
A week later, you drag yourself to Benny and Mal’s for their monthly game night. You’d tried to get out of it, told Mal you haven’t been feeling great — which isn't a total lie — but she’d begged you until you broke.
Will is coming, and it’ll be the first time we’ve all gotten together in over a year, she’d whined through the receiver.
And then-
I know things were weird between you and Frankie last time at the bar, but you can’t let that stop us from seeing each other.
How do you know that, you’d asked, chewing on your bottom lip, the phone tucked between your ear and your shoulder.
He basically moped around the rest of the night after you left. Kept bitching about you leaving with that guy. He seemed really…agitated. You don’t have to tell me what happened, just please don’t bail.
So you’re here, steeling yourself as you climb the steps to the front door, hoping that if nothing else, you can make it through the night without strangling Frankie for his lack of discretion.
You enter the house with baited breath.
Your eyes immediately catch Frankie, tucked into the corner of the sectional, fingers wrapped tightly around his beer. He meets your gaze briefly before letting it slip to the floor by his feet, as if he’s trying to pretend he hasn’t seen you at all.
“Hi,” you try.
He looks back up at you, or rather past you. Taps his fingers along the bottle for a long moment. “Hey,” he says finally, to the wall behind your head.
“How have you been?” the words come out forced, almost foreign. You shift your weight awkwardly and he sighs.
“Fine. I’m fine.”
“Right,” you mutter. More silence. “Me too, in case you were wondering.”
“Good,” he says, voice cold. “That’s good.”
You’re not sure whether you want to slap him or kiss him. Because as infuriating as he’s being right now, he looks gorgeous, denim shirt hugging his biceps, his shoulders; stray curls peaking out from under that stupid Standard Heating Oil hat. You yearn to rip it off his head, run your fingers through his hair, nip along the sharp line of his jaw; the broad expanse of his neck.
You long to feel something other than the prominent ache that’s permeated your body for weeks, now. And you fear that he’s the only one who’d be able to alleviate it.
Your mouth opens again just as Benny emerges from the kitchen. Whatever words you were about to utter are lost in the ether as he pulls you into a suffocating hug and thanks you for coming.
“Mal’s in the kitchen,” he says. Grabs a handful of Lays from a bowl on the coffee table and shovels them into his mouth. Still chewing, he adds, “we got those wine coolers you like; they’re in the fridge.”
With a hurried thanks, you slip away unscathed.
You find Mal crouched in front of the open fridge, rustling through a produce drawer stocked with beer cans.
“Hey,” you announce.
She seems almost surprised to see you when she cranes her neck toward your voice, despite your promise to show. Eyebrows raised, mouth slightly agape, it’s as if she’s waiting for the other shoe to drop. She pulls another drawer open. Fishes out a wine cooler and passes it to you with an outstretched arm.
You take it in one hand. Help her up with the other.
“You’re here,” she says, and it sounds like more of a question than a statement.
“Yeah. I said I would be.”
“I know, I know. It’s just — I wasn’t sure. The whole Frankie thing…”
“It’s nothing; I promise,” you lie. “Water under the bridge. We’re fine.”
She quirks a brow at you, disbelief coloring her features, but she lets it go. Closes the fridge with a thunk and adjusts her sweater at the hem. “Good,” she says. “I don’t want you two ruining game night.”
It’s half a joke, but you know deep down she means it. She takes this all very seriously. Back in college, she’d forced you and your suitemates to play Cards Against Humanity with her every weekend. None of you had the heart to tell her when it started to grow monotonous, and so the tradition carried on well past graduation, eventually evolving into a new tradition with new friends.
Games bring people together, she’d said once over a round of Monopoly that had stretched well into the night, resulting in delirious laughter and a warm, fuzzy feeling in your chest.
You’d believed her at the time. Now, you’re not so sure that it’s foolproof.
The two of you rejoin the guys in the living room, Santiago and Will having shown up in your absence. You greet them as Benny pulls out a stack of game boxes. Settle on the couch, as far away from Frankie as you can manage.
It starts during the second round of Charades.
The first round had gone fine — good, even. Teamed up with Santi and Will, you’d avoided eye contact with Frankie for the whole of it. Focused only on guessing Santi’s horribly-mimed clues in between handfuls of trail mix and sips of watermelon-flavored bubbles.
It’d felt a bit like old times, all of you in one room again. Mal snuggling into Benny on the loveseat; Will catching his brother up on time spent touring the country, giving motivational speeches to recently discharged veterans. He’d asked you how you’ve been as Santi studied his next word, and you’d remembered then that everything was very much not how it once was.
And you hadn’t missed Frankie’s discomfort at the question; the way he set his beer bottle down on the table with a bit too much force, glass clanging against wood. Though if Will noticed too, he hadn’t said anything. Just moved into a story about some woman he met on the road that reminded him of you.
Santi’s turn had ended with a whopping zero points for your team, and now Frankie is standing at the front of the room, unfolding the scrap of paper in his hand and reading it to himself. In the lull, you find yourself staring at him, eyes near glazing over at the sight of the tiny paper pinched between long, thick fingers. Fingers you remember the reach of, the weight of.
He crumples the paper and stuffs it into his pocket, signaling that he’s ready to go. Mal flips over the sand timer on the table. And you almost don’t notice at first when he starts, mind occupied by equal parts lust and annoyance, that he’s fucking mouthing the phrase.
You watch, enraged, as Benny squints to read his lips. He raises his hand excitedly and jumps to his feet; yells out the answer with a sureness that Frankie affirms with a nod.
“That’s right. It’s the Empire State Building.”
“That’s fucking cheating!” you shout, a bit angrier than the situation calls for, and the room grows quiet. Fury coursing through you, you add, “are you fucking serious, Frankie?”
You feel the eyes on you; the awkward sheen you’ve cast over the room. Mal shifts across from you, glaring when you turn to face her, and you laugh defensively.
“What, nobody else thinks that’s unfair?”
“Please,” Frankie sneers.
“No, she’s right,” Santi tries — ever the peacemaker. “We’ll just add a rule going forward; no mouthing the words.”
“Fuck that,” you hiss. “I want their point taken away.”
Frankie scoffs from the other side of the room. “Bullshit! We earned that before the rule was added.”
You’re fuming now, standing to get a bit closer to his height; though he still towers over you. Mal is right on your heels, placing a hand on your shoulder in an attempt to placate you. You brush her off. Take another stride toward Frankie.
“There shouldn’t need to be an official rule against it, Frankie. It’s common fucking sense — which clearly, you have none of.”
Visibly offended, he says nothing. Just tenses his jaw.
“Why did you come tonight?” you continue, voice more level now; direct.
You hear your name uttered behind you, tone pleading, warning. You ignore it.
“Seriously, why?”
He’s quiet for a long, drawn-out moment, eyes pointed at the floor again.
“What are you talking about?” he spits, finally.
You laugh, amused and irritated, and these things somehow feel one in the same. “I mean, clearly you don’t want to be in my presence or even acknowledge my existence — unless it’s to cockblock me — so why are you here?”
His brows furrow; lips twist. For a second, you think he might actually leave. He adjusts his cap, jangles the car key in his pocket — but Benny stops him before he can take a step.
“Just — cut it out, okay? Both of you.”
“He’s the one-“
“I don’t care,” Benny interjects. Scanning the room, you catch sight of Santi and Will and Mal, all visibly agitated, and you sigh.
Guilt washes over you, then. The twisting of Santi’s face, Mal’s doleful stare, the wordless look exchanged between Benny and Will. All confirm your fear that you’ve effectively ruined their night.
“I’m sorry,” you mumble.
Frankie echoes your apology. Still, the others aren’t impressed.
“I don’t know what’s been going on lately with you two, but you need to figure this shit out,” Benny says. He sounds like a parent: stern and slightly disappointed. “Can you please just — go in the other room and talk through it?”
Though you haven’t much cared for Frankie’s opinion as of late, you still turn to him to gauge his reaction. He appears just as hesitant as you are, just as guilt-stricken. But something more lurks behind his eyes — something like fear, anxiety. Why, you aren’t sure.
You raise a brow at him, a wordless question. He answers with a sigh.
“Fine,” you both say at once.
“Thank goodness,” Mal chimes. Herding you two like cattle with a hand on each of your backs, she leads you out of the living room and into the adjoining hallway.
Her voice drones behind you as you make your way toward the third door on the right. Shall we continue the game?
The guest room is primly kept. It appears almost untouched at first glance, though you know that to be untrue. You’ve stayed here before, after blurry nights spent drinking shitty gin and singing karaoke. That must’ve been years ago now, though, after Mal and Benny first bought this house, and you begin to wonder if your tumultuous friendship with Frankie only made you neglect your friendship with her. And that only adds to the anger stirring inside of you — because what was it all worth, if it’s ended up like this?
Frankie closes the door behind him with a click, and the air in the room feels exponentially thicker.
“What the fuck was that?” you hiss.
He scoffs. “Me? You’re the one who freaked out and started an argument over nothing!”
“It wasn’t nothing. You were cheating.”
“Please.” He rolls his eyes. Takes two steps toward you. “That’s not what this is about and you know it.”
“Oh,” you laugh, “so you are aware that you’ve been an asshole?”
He says your name, voice suddenly lower, softer. Your entire body tenses as you struggle to keep strong, to not think about how it sounded in your ear in the midst of pleasure.
“I wasn’t trying to be-”
You throw a hand up; silence him. “Well you have been,” you groan. “You’ve been a huge fucking asshole. You hurt me, Frankie. You were my best friend, and then you just… stopped returning my texts. You won’t even look at me when we’re in the same room together. Did you regret it that much?”
The room goes still. You watch as Frankie’s chest rises and falls arduously, his eyes settling on you. They’re dark, pupils blown wide, squeezing shut as he exhales long and hard.
“No.”
You quirk a brow at him, confused.
“No?”
“No,” he repeats, averting his gaze. “And that’s the problem — I didn’t regret it at all.” His eyes lift slowly, finding you again, voice more sure when he adds, “I’ve wanted it for a long time”
You can barely comprehend what he’s saying, your heart climbing its way out of your ribcage and up your throat. You gulp, feeling the shape of it there as saliva slowly slides past.
He takes another two steps forward, mere inches from you now, and your breath hitches.
“Do you know how difficult it’s been to look at you without getting fucking hard?” he whispers. “How many times I’ve fucked my fist in the past month imagining it was you?”
Your mouth falls open, stunned. “That girl at the bar-”
He shakes his head. “I thought maybe if I fucked someone else, it would help.”
“And did it?”
“I didn’t — I didn’t go home with her,” he admits, a little bashfully. “I couldn’t do it.”
His hand lifts, then, cautious and shaky. It finds its way to your face, grazes your jaw so softly you’d think you imagined it if you couldn’t see.
“Why not?” you squeak.
He nods, as if he’s finally accepting something he’s known to be true, admitting it to himself before he does so out loud.
“Because she wasn’t you.”
It feels as if your entire world has spun on its axis.
Without thinking, you wrap your hand around Frankie’s neck and pull him toward you, crashing your lips into his with a groan. He’s quick to respond, desperately tangling his fingers in your hair and winding his tongue around yours, a broken moan slipping from his throat.
For a long moment, that’s all it is. It’s clashing teeth and restless hands; the draw of blood and the taste of it, earthy and metallic on your tongue. It’s the two of you, reconciling for lost time and unshared feelings and the overlooked need for each other through tangled bodies.
And when you finally pull apart, his lips are swollen and his eyes are glazed over, and you’re sure you don’t look much different.
“Frankie,” you whine as his mouth latches to your neck, warm and wet. He doesn’t retreat; just hums against you.
“Need you,” you say breathlessly. “Need you to touch me.”
His large hand skates down your front, under the waistband of your leggings. He presses two fingers against your clothed clit, and your knees buckle. You lean into him, bracing yourself with a hand on his chest as he begins rubbing small, deliberate circles into cotton.
Lips trailing up to your ear, he nibbles at the lobe. Presses his tongue just behind the shell of it and sighs. “Been wanting this since that night. Want to make you feel good. Want to do it right.”
You mewl in response, high-pitched and too loud, and you have to bite into his shoulder to keep from crying out again. He’s still working you toward the brink, pace relentless, beseeching you every time you buck into his hand.
There you go baby, that’s it; I got you.
You know he does, can feel the support of his unoccupied hand at the small of your back, holding you to his strong body. And god, how you’ve missed the feeling of it pressed to yours. You think that that alone could make you come.
You feel yourself slipping as your orgasm approaches, legs slumping underneath you more and more with every pass of his fingers. “Frankie,” you warn, teeth still anchored in his skin. “I’m going to-“
The words are muffled, but he gets it. Presses down harder and works his fingers faster. “Come on baby,” he growls in your ear, “come on.”
Your orgasm hits you so hard that you collapse, your body dead weight in Frankie’s grip as you writhe. He grasps onto you tightly, working you through it with his unyielding touch, swiping back and forth, back and forth as the final waves crest.
You’re panting when it ends, and still when Frankie helps you to the edge of the bed. Perched there, staring up at him with glassy eyes, you realize you’ve never felt so sated and so needy at the same time.
“Frankie?”
“Yeah, baby?”
“Please fuck me.”
He should probably say no. After all, you’re in your friends’ guest room, people just a few hundred feet on the other side of the door. But then again, he’s already made you come.
You watch him consider it, eyes flickering to the door and back to you, dark and deep and pooling with want.
In the end, he can’t help himself.
“Can you be quiet, querida?”
You nod, though you’re sure that even if you said no, he wouldn’t care. He’d do just as he’s doing now: pressing your shoulder, encouraging you to lay down on the bed; helping you pull your sneakers off, then your leggings, then your shirt; stepping back to marvel at your half-naked form before him.
“Fucking beautiful,” he murmurs, and your entire body heats from the inside out. You feel like you’re on fire, his stare keeping you alight as he undresses down to his boxers.
He climbs over you with a hand on either side of your head, pressed into the mattress. The lip of his hat bumps you, and you immediately rip it off of him, tossing it aside and tangling your fingers in dark curls.
You tug at them, dragging him down until his face is hovering just above yours, and he responds with a strangled moan. His body pressed to yours now, you can feel the weight of his hard cock against your clothed pussy. Your mouth finds his again in a languid kiss — slow and deep. You feed each other sighs and moans, taste each other’s longing. His hips roll into yours with every exhale, teasing you — reminding you, and you feel like you’re steadily going insane.
He pulls back, panting. Rests his forehead on yours.
“Can I take this off?” he asks, plucking at the strap of your bra. You nod furiously. Lift the upper half of your body so that he can undo the clasps.
Breasts suddenly exposed, you feel your nipples begin to harden. Frankie groans at the sight of them, so pert and needing. Wordlessly, he dips his head, buries his face in your chest. His tongue wraps around one of your nipples and you cry out, hand flying to your mouth in an instant.
“Oh fuck,” you moan into your palm.
“Feel good?” he asks, knowing smirk playing on his lips as he shifts his focus to the other nipple. You feel so sensitive everywhere, the heft of his tongue going straight to your clit, and you can barely answer him. A shaky yes tumbles from your mouth — the best you can do. He hums, so low the vibrations burrow under your skin and barrel through you, and you keen at the sensation.
“God, you sound so pretty,” he sighs as he rolls one of your stiff peaks between two fingers. His other hand drifts down your body, dips between the two of you and pulls your panties aside.
“Fuck,” he curses, fingertip brushing over your seam just barely. “You’re soaked, bebita. That all for me?”
“Mhm,” you whine. “All for you Frankie; fuck-“
He’s shifts down your body, hooks both arms under your legs and drags you toward him in one swift motion, leaving you no time to process before his tongue is on your pussy. “Have to taste you,” he babbles drunkenly, plunging into your leaking cunt and lapping at you.
“Oh, oh shit,” you moan as he drags his tongue up to your clit. “Please baby, please.”
“I know; I got you,” he soothes. Then he begins to lave your clit with the soft flat of his tongue, warm muscle encircling the throbbing nub. Wide eyes staring up at you, he observes intently. Responds to every sound, every tell with a switch in direction or an increase in pressure. He’s so attentive, so desperate to make you come on his mouth, and it sends you into a sort of delirium.
Your second orgasm hits you out of nowhere, slams through your body with so much intensity, you don’t even have the strength to warn Frankie before your release is gushing all over his face and, undoubtedly, the bed below.
He growls against your cunt. Comes up for air and kisses you hard, letting you taste yourself on his tongue as he tugs his boxers down and frees his aching cock. Notches at your entrance without detaching his lips from yours.
It’s a stretch — you recall it being so last time too — though the alcohol had done wonders to loosen your body. Now, you feel every devastating inch of him as he pushes in. He’s gentle. Tells you how good you’re doing as he feeds you more and more of his cock. There you go, that’s my girl, taking it so well for me. And for some reason, him calling you his nearly makes you come again.
He notices the way you preen in response. Thumbs across the slope of your jaw as he settles inside you. “You like that, baby? Like me calling you mine?”
“Yes, Frankie — fuck. Want it.”
You don’t specify whether you mean him or his cock. You’re not entirely sure. Not that it matters. You know he’ll give you both, give you anything. Can feel it in the way he gazes at you through heart-shaped eyes as he lets you adjust to him.
“So fucking beautiful, you know that?”
Your eyes roll back and saliva pools in your mouth. “God,” you breathe.
“I’m serious,” he says, finally beginning to move. The slow drag of his cock brushes your g-spot and you gasp. “Was so stupid before, fucking you drunk. Wanna remember every second, every noise you make, every inch of your perfect fucking body.”
“Jesus, Frankie.”
He pushes back in with one deep thrust. Sets a pace that, while not rough, definitely isn’t gentle. You begin to babble and writhe under him. Hook your legs around him so he can get even deeper.
He groans. “Tell me how it feels, baby.”
“It’s so fucking good,” you cry. “Feels like fucking heaven, Frankie.”
“Nah, that’s you.” He lets his head fall on your shoulder, drives into you faster. Pants into the crook of your neck. “Perfect fucking pussy.”
It ends all too quickly — with your fingernails dug into his back and his sweaty curls sticking to your forehead. Your cunt clenching around his cock, pulling his orgasm out of him just as yours begins to roll through you. You free fall from the cliff’s edge together, breathless moans spilling between your slotted mouths, his warmth flooding you and leaking from the place you’re still connected.
As the room around you slowly comes back into focus, you hear the sound of distant laughter. Benny’s boisterous chuckle and Mal’s much softer one. Clearly distracted, they’re likely blissfully unaware of what’s just happened. You giggle, covering your face as Frankie pulls out.
“What’s so funny?” he asks, prying your hands away.
“We’re gonna have to get them a new bedspread. We just defiled this one.”
He stands, then, pulling you upright with him. You squeal as blood rushes to your head and your vision goes staticky.
“Worth it,” he smirks. Gives you a chaste kiss. “Got my girl back.”
You dress and rejoin the group as inconspicuously as possible. Pray they don’t notice the way you’re wobbling on your feet, or the sheen of sweat that’s coated your skin.
“You sort everything out?” Santi smirks knowingly as you reassume your place on the couch, Frankie settling back into the corner.
“Yeah,” he mutters, refusing to make eye contact.
“It’s about time,” Benny shouts from the kitchen. Frankie’s head shoots up, pivots toward his voice.
“What do you mean?”
He emerges in the doorway with a shit-eating grin. Mal stifles a laugh from the loveseat.
“Just saying it’s about time,” he shrugs. “That’s all.”
Shit; apparently you hadn’t been as quiet as you thought.
The others chuckle as you and Frankie exchange a mortified look. The embarrassment is short lived though, Will clapping his hands together, asking what game you all want to play next.
An hour later, after a couple rounds of Codenames and another wine cooler, you head out the door with Frankie right beside you. It feels odd, not hiding anymore. But more so, it feels right.
He leans you against your SUV under silver moonlight. Kisses you with plush, soft lips against yours; restless hands roving up your sides. Pulls back with a suspiciously large grin.
You cock an eyebrow at him. “What?”
“Nothing,” he says. “Just glad I stopped being an idiot.”
“I don’t know about that,” you tease, and he smacks you gently on the arm.
“Come over?” he asks, his hand draped over your waist.
You think on it for only a second. Nod. “Yeah. As long as you make me a grilled cheese.”
“That can be arranged.”
end notes: thank you so much for reading! if you enjoyed, please consider commenting and/or reblogging :)
#Frankie Morales#Frankie Morales x reader#Frankie Morales x f!reader#Frankie Morales x female reader#Frankie Morales fic#Frankie Morales smut#Frankie Morales fanfiction#Triple Frontier#Triple Frontier fic#Triple Frontier fanfiction#pedro pascal characters#pedro pascal fic#pedro pascal fanfiction#pedro pascal smut
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In a world of boys, he’s a gentleman
Luke Castellan x Apollo kid!reader
word count: a little over 1k
summary: you’ve had your heart broken many times, maybe the Hermes boy will be different
You have only ever wanted to be loved. For whatever reason you haven’t had much luck. Sure, there were many guys.
Callum from Ares. The only thing hotter than him was his temper.
Ryan from Hephaestus. He would forge copper to make you jewelry, little did you know three other girls had the same gift.
Ezra from Athena. Always thought he was so much smarter and better than you. Made you want to shoot your arrow straight at him.
Aiden from Hermes. A liar who couldn’t take anything seriously.
Elliott from Ares. Was dared by Callum to lock you in a dark room. And he actually listened.
Being the child of Apollo had its perks, but it more often had downsides. Your least favorite being your ability to fall in love so easily. After Elliot you swore off falling in love. A pain even you couldn’t heal. You couldn’t understand why nothing seemed to work out for you, you were a dreamboat!
A beautiful daughter of Apollo who glowed like the sun. Not only were you his daughter, you were his favorite, the hundreds of freckles on your face proved it. You were kind and generous, always willing to take in an injured camper from dusk to dawn. Your smile quite literally lit up a room. Perhaps you were too nice? Maybe they thought they could take advantage of your kindness?
Whatever the reason was doesn’t matter. You decided to take a page from your aunt Artemis’ book. No more boys, no more falling in love. Things will be easier this way. You know it.
You should’ve been at the bonfire with everyone else. You chose to skip it tonight because you wished to be alone, at the archery range. Maybe you’d earn another freckle if Apollo saw you practicing your already perfect shot. Luke should’ve been at the bonfire too, singing with your half-siblings and roasting marshmallows.
“Hey! I need some help!” A deep, painful cry said.
Immediately worried, you turned around and saw Luke Castellan holding his abdomen. You immediately run over to him, taking his arm over yours and getting to your cabin as soon as possible. You decided the infirmary was too far and you could use the cot in your cabin.
You slam through the cabin door and lay him on the cot in the middle of the bunk beds. “Lay down.”
You pull up his blood stained orange shirt to reveal a large gash on the side of his toned stomach. You held your hand on his abdomen for a moment to assess what happened. A second degree burn and large slices, as if by a horn, caused this.
“How did this happen?” You ask as you start to transfer some of the pain to a potted plant, causing it to wilt.
“Accident with a hephaestus kid, wrong place, wrong time I guess,” He says slightly wincing.
“I can take most of the pain but it’ll still take a while to heal,” You explain.
“Weren’t you supposed to be at the bonfire, leading a song with the rest of your cabin?” He asks.
“I could ask you the same thing, wandering around the blacksmiths. You know those things they make are pretty hot right?” You scoff at him.
“Yeah I guess I do now,” he rolls his eyes.
You begin to bandage the wound and give him a slice of bread. “Bread? What the hell is this gonna do?” he questions.
“My sister Melody made it, it can heal the burns for the most part,” you say.
“Aren’t you the girl who dated Aiden?” He asks bluntly, taking a bite of the bread.
“That’s none of your business,” You roll your eyes.
“If you ask me-” he begins to say before you cut him off.
“I’m not.”
“He was an idiot. All those guys were. I mean seriously, didn’t anyone teach them how to treat a pretty girl?” He continues, not fazed by you interrupting him.
“All those guys? You know about them?” You question.
“I guess. I mean after word got out about that shithead Elliot I did some asking,” he shrugs. You frown at the mention of Elliot.
“Whatever, they’re all in the past. No more guys for me,” you tell him.
“You shouldn’t give up entirely, these guys are stupid. There’s someone out there who deserves you, trust,” He assures you.
“Oh yeah? Tell me when you meet him,” You laugh.
“I think i know a guy, actually,” He responds, sitting up slightly.
“Oh yeah? Do tell.”
“Well, he’s tall, tan, and goddamn gorgeous. Has these soft brown curls, and I heard he’s the best swordsman at camp. Perfect for the best archer,” He explains to you, smiling.
“You seem to be fond of him, maybe you should go date him,” You joke.
“Nah, I think he likes this girl from Apollo. Kind, generous, beautiful, best healer and archer around,” He locks eyes with yours, darting between your eyes and your lips.
He holds your face in his hand, circling his thumb. His shirt rides up exposing his stomach and bandages.
“You like what you see?” He teases.
“You’re an idiot,” You smile.
“That seems to be your type,” he shrugs and knits his brows.
Before you can say another word he presses a kiss against your lips, moving them softly against yours. One of his hands stays on your neck while the other ventures down to your waist and then the chair you sat in. He pulls the chair closer to him and puts his hand back on your waist. You move one of your hands to his knee and the other to right beside him, leaning in closer.
“Fuck, you’re amazing,” He’s whispers into the kiss.
You smile at him before pausing. “The bonfire’s almost over, maybe you should head back,” you say.
“Yeah probably,” he gives you one last hard kiss followed by another few pecks.
He stands up and steadys himself, the injury clearly still pains him. He starts to walk away but before he can leave he turns back to you and presses a few more kisses against you.
“Okay, I’m done. y’know for now,” he smirks.
“You’re welcome anytime,” You laugh and he leaves. He gives you two looks before exiting.
Maybe you’ll give this boy one more chance.
#pjo x you#luke castellan#luke pjo x reader#luke castellan x reader#pjo x reader#luke pjo#percy pjo#pjo series#pjo fandom#pjo#pjo tv show#percy jackson#percy jackson x reader#percy jackson and the olympians#luke castellan x you
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