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theflashesoflove · 9 months

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obstacle I

Larissa Weems x f!reader (nsfw) – series

part I :: part ll :: ao3

summary: Could you be more careless? Talking to a stranger online and sharing the most intimate moments of your days with her? The way you trusted her was almost ridiculous, but the way she talked to you made you sure that this grown woman wouldn’t even consider harming you in some way. One would think you were a fool who would regret her messages one day, one would even point a finger at you and say how perverse all of it was. Luckily, no one knew. Except for Lydia, your mistress, to whom you granted not just your body, but also your heart.

a/n: i always dreaded writing series, but this woman inspires me so much that i'm finally up for the challenge. i hope i will be consistent with my writing enough to bring this story where i want it to be. filthy, angsty and gentle. i think there will be two or three more chapters and it is also crossposted on ao3. btw i have a vague idea of what architects do so if you notice some factual mistakes let's pretend that in my silly imaginary world things work this way. the names of the chapters are lyrics from interpol's 'turn on the bright lights' album (it's brilliant, a huge recommend if you like male manipulator music like i do haha). proofread, and i hope it doesn't sound as broken as i think it does. (bracing myself) let's set this little bird free into the wild.

general warnings/tags: unhealthy online relationship, dom!larissa x sub!reader dynamics, sexting, nudes, masturbation + angst and all that stuff to come

chapter word count: 4k

Part I: you are linked to my innocence

Sitting on the balcony, you admired the sun slowly crawling up from its slumber, painting the sky with faint yellow and pink shades, warming up the cool earth. The view before you made you smile. Perhaps having trouble sleeping had its benefits – you could admire such a beautiful sunrise and feel at peace for at least the next hour, before the world would wake up and start swirling around you, overwhelming and demanding.

Thinking of someone who was also so very demanding, you pulled out your phone and started recording the serene scenery. You tried to hold your phone still, though it was hard because of the chilly wind that made you shiver. Ending the video, you opened the messenger and sent it to a woman who made your heart sing just like the morning birds sang, greeting the sun.

You scrolled up your message history with her for a bit, smirking. What a sweet little relationship you had, one time you would send her a beautiful view out of your window, the next time – a picture of you touching yourself in the most sinful way.

Couldn’t sleep again? and What a lovely view, she replied an hour later. Not as lovely as you, though, she added after.

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Her name was Lydia and she had just the right way with her words. She would text you, Send me a picture, and you would rush out of your meeting to the bathroom to send her a selfie. She would text you, What a beautiful shirt you are wearing, unbutton it for me, and you would spend a bit more time in the bathroom sending her picture after picture.

You didn’t know what she looked like. She rarely sent you pictures in return, and you had only one 10 seconds long video of her touching herself. Her fingers were slender, her nails were painted a burgundy red colour, and she had those plush thighs that you wanted to squeeze with your hands. She was a woman of exquisite taste – taste in music, in foods, in lingerie.

You never asked her for more. It was entirely your choice to reveal your face on one of the first videos you sent her. She once told you, Don’t call me by my name on those videos, call me your mistress. You obliged. You always did. An impulse to ask the woman if she could reveal her face bubbled up inside your chest from time to time, but you pushed it away, never willing to make her uncomfortable. Perhaps there was something she didn’t like about herself, perhaps she wanted to be more mysterious and enticing, perhaps she just needed a bit more time – and it had been a year! Never being a selfish one, you suppressed your questions and played by her rules.

She knew a lot about your life. You didn’t realise that you barely knew about hers. You knew that her work was stressful enough to make her speak to you in an especially dirty way in the night, urging you to send new videos for her to let off steam. You could only imagine her, spread on her bed to your sinful sound and pleas. You would tell her, i wish i could see how pleased my mistress is right now, nudging her to send you a picture in return. The woman would just answer, Don’t doubt it, I am very pleased with my darling girl, thank you and end the conversation until the next morning. You knew that she played piano and was popular in high school, though a bit overshadowed by her best friend at the time. You knew that she liked long walks in nature, ice skating and that her favourite season was autumn. She never pressed you to share any details about your life, but you did it nonetheless.

It all started rather accidentally, and you told her millions of times how glad you were that she found you. There was an old record player that you wanted to sell online, and you even gave out a Fleetwood Mac vinyl in addition to it for free. The woman contacted you, anonymous at that time, though she contacted you too late, and the record player was already sold. It didn’t stop the two of you from continuing the conversation, talking about music and antique pieces of furniture she adored. After that, everything escalated quickly – topics changing topics and bringing you into dynamics you didn’t know you would enjoy this much. She teased you a lot, and at first you acted shy and hesitant, bending under her dominance and unravelling your own fantasies over time. She wrapped you around her finger, and on one particular evening you sent her your first video. The woman made it clear that she was hopeful to receive more of those in the future.

Could you be more careless? Talking to a stranger online and sharing the most intimate moments of your days with her? The way you trusted her was almost ridiculous, but the way she talked to you made you sure that this grown woman wouldn’t even consider harming you in some way. One would think you were a fool who would regret her messages one day, one would even point a finger at you and say how perverse all of it was. If you told any of your friends about Lydia, they would tell you that you went nuts. They would tell you to stop texting her immediately and delete the chat to destroy the blackmail material that you’d shared with a stranger. Luckily, no one knew. Except for Lydia, your mistress, to whom you granted not just your body, but also your heart.

Back in the day, you suggested moving the conversation from reselling website direct messages to a more convenient messenger, one that the woman hadn’t heard of before. It took her two days to create an account for contacting you there. Her profile picture was a bush of red flowers, her personal information included just a lyric of a song she liked, and all of it was only for your eyes to see. Not much, but her empty profile on an app which she signed in just for you never aroused any suspicions. Well, sometimes it did, but then she would ask you how your day went and the sweetness of the texts the two of you shared washed your worries away.

In fact, it wasn’t all about sexting. You could see that she was genuinely interested and caring, and you didn’t send her pictures and videos every day, after all. Maybe… three times a week? Five if she was desperate. She woke up earlier than you if you managed to fall asleep the night before and always brightened your day from its beginning with a sweet ‘Good morning, darling’ message. She always wished you a good night and checked in throughout the day, answering your texts and moving the conversation forward. Sometimes she would even send you flowers, and a delivery man would call you and ask for the address. The man would appear on your porch with a delicate bouquet later, a card attached to the wrapping would say, ‘To my favourite girl – L’. You could only giggle and smile to yourself for the rest of the day. No matter how hard you tried to get her number to send something in return, the woman would always brush you off. You can send me a picture in return, she would text you. That was exactly what you would do next.

You’d always start with pictures. On days when you felt especially good about yourself, you didn’t even wait for her to ask. Undressing, you would send her several pictures, losing yet another piece of closing on every photo. Sometimes it would take her too long to reply, and you would record a video for her in advance. There wasn’t any surface in your house that wasn’t caught on camera while you would thrust your fingers inside, making it all pretty and appealing to look at. The sounds you made were an absolute turn on for her, and you always ensured that you put on a good show. It wasn’t even necessary to try hard, you would just recall all the dirty messages she sent you over the course of your relationship, you would imagine how it would feel to be held by her, how those long fingers would pound into you, how her lips would tease your flushed skin. You had a good imagination, and it was enough. The tiniest bits of her that were available to you – all of it was enough, that was what you were trying to convince yourself of. A hopeless romantic you were, blindly expecting that one day she would surprise you and reveal herself, and tell you how much she wanted to meet you in person. Still, it never came. That day never came, and you tried not to overthink it. You were supposed to be grateful for what you already had, after all.

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I have a very important meeting today and I just know that it won’t go easy on me. Can you please bend over your desk for me this evening, dearest? Lydia texted you a few hours later after receiving the video.

of course, mistress, you answered playfully. your boss doesn’t give you a break, huh? ;)

Thank you, darling girl, I’ll be waiting, she replied, ignoring the message about her boss.

You made sure to text her during your lunch break, checking if she didn’t forget to eat in between her piles of work. She told you that she had a snack and it was very nice of you to bother. A couple of hours later she asked how were you feeling since you didn’t get any sleep last night. You told her that you were running on energy drinks and green tea and she jokingly scolded you for the energy drinks part. It made you bite your lower lip, how caring she was for you in return.

The desk in your office was never neat. Scattered papers, your laptop always on charge, heated up with architect software. You hunched over the plan with a pencil in your hand, making sure that the plumbing system of the building made sense at all. Working in a reconstruction and restoration company, you never really got a chance to do the part you studied for in the first place. Always checking other architects’ plans and fixing their mistakes for them, not having the opportunity to do something of your own. Your days were filled with somewhat ridiculous tasks yet even those managed to make you feel the struggle of workload.

The surface of your desk shuddered when your phone buzzed with a reminder about forthcoming meeting, and you straightened, feeling a familiar ache in your lower back. You threw on a jacket, took your phone and notebook and left your office, politely smiling at coworkers passing by.

The meeting went as smoothly as always – at least you enjoyed the working atmosphere of the company. Your boss talked about the updates in the company policy and proceeded to inform the staff about upcoming projects. He announced that the Principal of Nevermore school contacted them for the reconstruction work, and your coworkers didn’t even try to hide their opinions on outcasts and how infamous the school was, especially after the causality that happened a few months ago. Not paying attention to their grumbling, you thought it would be a great opportunity to finally show your skills, and your boss thought so too.

“Y/N, you will take over this project. I’m passing you the papers with details, I feel like the time to shine has come!” he said, approaching your seat with a folder in his hands. Some of your coworkers sighed in relief, glad that they wouldn’t be involved with Nevermore. It made you wince – you never thought badly of outcasts like the majority of others did, the idea of being hostile towards someone just because they were different made you nauseous like it would do to any decent person. “The Principal insists on cooperation, and I have to warn you – you will probably have to visit the site more times than would be necessary for a usual project. I hope it won’t be a problem,” he said with a light smirk.

You smiled and bit your cheek, anticipation tingling on your fingertips. “No, it won’t be a problem. Thank you,” you uttered, taking the folder. “When am I supposed to start?”

“Next week. We arranged a meeting with Principal Weems, she said it was very important for the school, and I quote, ‘to thoroughly negotiate the reconstruction process’.”

The school was enormous, but the work was connected to a relatively small part of it, a tower that was destroyed recently. You spent the rest of your evening studying the documents – an old plan of the school that included the tower. It was impressive how old this building was. Besides, you would be taking part in preserving and reconstructing the historic site, the whole prospect of reconstructing a part of Nevermore ensemble sounded like a dream coming true. The fact of such a project being granted to you to work on would be unbelievable if deep down you didn’t know the reason for it. It seemed that no one from your company wanted to work with Nevermore, but the school was about to pay generously, so they had to find someone to 'deal with the outcasts'. How foolish your coworkers were for declining such an opportunity, you thought, smiling to yourself.

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Back home, you didn’t bother to change into your indoor clothes, knowing full well that you would need to be completely naked soon anyway. Having had a quick meal and relaxed on the couch, closing your eyes for a little too long than you planned, you finally entered your bedroom and started setting a scene. Sometimes the lengths you went to make a perfect video for Lydia made you embarrassed, but how could you do it any other way? The woman’s attention was worth all of your efforts. You cleaned up your desk, returning previously forgotten mugs to the kitchen, shoving papers into the desk drawer and moving the pile of laundry laying on the floor out of frame. The curtains had to be closed for the last sun rays entering your bedroom not messing with the lighting on camera, the cosy shine of a garland and the dim light of a bedside lamp would be enough to illuminate your form in the most lovely way. You checked your reflection in the mirror and wiped away a few particles of mascara from under your eyes. For a second you tensed, your insecurity taking over. Would Lydia like you as much if she saw you in person? Wouldn’t she be disappointed that a flawless image you tried to create for her wasn’t as flawless in real life? Perhaps that was why she didn’t want to meet up in the first place? Did she already know that wasting the time of her busy schedule would completely disenchant her perception of you? You took a deep breath and shook your head, backing off from the mirror. It was alright. She liked you. Still you desperately wanted to be perfect for her.

The next thing you did was distract yourself with having fun and a bit of a struggle with setting up a phone stand out of books. After you were sure that your phone wouldn’t slide down halfway through the recording, you set a 10 seconds timer and started slowly unbuttoning your shirt to catch the process on camera. The photo turned out just the way you wanted from the first try, revealing the right amount of skin and a glimpse of your lingerie. It didn’t even matter in the end, but you were always attentive to details. Completely taking off your shirt, you grabbed your phone and took the second picture – a close up of your lacy bra, nipples visible through the fabric, collarbones calling to be showered with your mistress’ kisses. The sound of timer counting down rang across your bedroom once again, you unhooked your bra to send it down onto the floor and stepped back, already topless, unzipping your pants and craning your neck to the side with a soft smile on your lips. Oh, how much you loved spoiling Lydia even if sometimes it stressed you out to the point of worrying about your imperfections. Your pants made their way onto the floor as well, out of the frame, of course, and as the next timer started counting down, you rushed to your desk to bend over it prettily, exposing your cheeks for the last photo. Then, you returned to your phone and sent pictures to Lydia, smiling to yourself at the thought of her ending her tedious day of work and seeing your message.

It took you a fair amount of time to warm yourself up for the video by bringing yourself to the edge with a vibrator, uncomfortably sprawled in your chair and growing hotter with every second. You barely managed to stop yourself from climaxing, removing the vibrator from your clit and standing up on wobbly legs to continue your filming session. The phone was settled into its makeshift stand again, the sun finally settled, not peeking through the curtains anymore, which made the scene look especially intimate in the dimmed lights, and you were ready to absolutely ruin yourself for Lydia. After pressing the record button, you bent over your desk once again, and massaged your cheeks, squeezing and pulling to reveal your glistening sex. Having satisfied your need to tease the woman a little more, you spread your legs wider and took a toy that rested on the desk the whole time.

Teasing your wet entrance with the toy, you pleaded into the silence of your room, “Oh, please, fuck me… fuck me, mistress, please…”

By the time you finished, you were worn out – the position was rather uncomfortable, especially when you had to work with your hand from behind. You pressed the side of your face against the surface and sighed happily, “Thank you, mistress, you are so good to me.” There was a deep red mark of the edge of the desk on your knee, the wood was digging into your skin almost the whole time you were filming after you decided to move your leg higher for better access and view. The awkward scene of you grunting as you lifted yourself from the desk and padded over to your bed to stop the recording was cropped out later.

An hour passed by, and Lydia finally answered your messages, saying that she was done with the meeting and work for the day, ready to witness you coming undone for her.

You look absolutely ravishing, dear. Let me see how you used that toy on your pretty pussy?

are you already in bed? You asked, trying to withhold the sweet video a little longer.

No, darling. I’m taking a bath right now, she answered, arousing the urge in you to ask her if she could give you at least a glimpse of her body basking in the warm water. You didn’t ask her.

I need you, came a text seconds later, and you couldn’t resist her anymore.

The video went on for about 11 minutes, you didn’t know if you should have made it shorter or longer for her liking. You wondered how long it would take her, you wondered what she would use to pleasure herself and how it would feel to be with her in that moment, spreading shower gel all over her breasts and teasing her with your thigh pressed against her core. You wondered how it would feel to just settle in her lap, wrap your hands around her shoulders and hide your face in her neck, revelling in her presence.

The waiting after sending her those kinds of videos was the most tortuous one, you didn’t yet know if she liked the video or not, you didn’t know if it met her expectations, you didn’t know if it even made her wet and eager to pleasure herself. Sometimes you were afraid that she wouldn’t even bother to watch it or to reply to you ever again. Fifteen minutes later, you got a response – 1 attachment. Your heart somersaulted against your ribcage, and you hesitated for a moment before tapping on the notification, prolonging the excitement of not knowing what she sent you.

Those beautiful thighs. Oh, how much you thought about them wrapping around your head, how many times you rewatched the only video she sent you, remembering the patterns of stretch marks along her skin. She looked especially soft and rosy, her wet pubic hair neatly covered her sex, and the foam melted around her body, glistening on camera. The water was steamy and her hand rested on the rim of the bathtub – you could only assume that she was completely spent.

i would eat you out until those gorgeous legs are shaking, you texted after a while of staring, unable to think straight.

Not before I would be done edging you for hours, she cheekily answered. And before you could think of a suitable response in the same dirty fashion, she sent her next message, Thank you, dearest. I don’t know what I did to deserve you.

A smile spread across your features, so wide it almost started to hurt. You plumped down on the bed and nuzzled your nose into the pillow, vainly seeking her scent that was never there in the first place. Contented that the woman felt about you this way, you closed your eyes and tried to imagine her. Imagine, imagine, imagine – it was the only thing you could do. In that moment, you hopelessly wanted to press yourself into her, to cling to her body and dissolve in her warmth. How much you yearned for her to give you real proximity, to caress your sides as she would bury her face in your hair and fall asleep next to you, breathing peacefully. Or she would let you lie down on her chest and listen to her calming heartbeat, holding your hand and circling your skin with her thumb.

A couple of red heart emojis were sent Lydia’s way and you locked your phone, turned on your back and looked at the ceiling. Fulfilled and deprived at the same time.

by the way, i was given a new project today! You texted Lydia five minutes later, remembering that you forgot to share the exciting news. i’m so happy, they finally gave me the big girl stuff to do haha

That’s amazing, dear. I’m very proud of you, Lydia answered, making you blush.

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The next Monday you were on your way to Nevermore – it felt very exciting to leave the office for once to see the site of reconstruction. To your surprise, it wasn’t that long of a ride, you expected the school to be more distant from Jericho than it was. Driving along the road that was framed by thick forest made you want to pull over for a second to take a picture of towering trees, branches tranquilly swinging in the wind, the sun peaking through the leaves. However it would be a bad idea, unless you wanted to be late for the meeting more than you already were.

The building of Nevermore astonished you from the first glance. A dark fantasy, elaborate decorations and old-fashioned high ceilings. You arrived at the brink of evening – Principal Weems didn’t have time for the meeting until 5 p.m. – and the golden hour made the school look even more otherworldly. You didn’t need a tour since you had an insight on what the building was like inside, and the location of classrooms and halls didn’t really change over decades. Approaching the Principal’s office, you adjusted the collar of your shirt and fixed your hair – this was serious, you had to make a good impression on the client.

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a/n: oh, larissa... honey, you've got a big storm coming

#larissa weems x reader #larissa weems x y/n #larissa weems #principal larissa weems #gwendoline christie

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vmpiires · 4 months

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„𝐇𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐆”

: ̗̀➛ 18+ CONTENT!!!

: ̗̀➛ afab!reader, lil bit of sex, nun too heavy. teasing, some whimpering, dom!reader. not proofread so i apologize in advance for any mistakes if they’re made.

: ̗̀➛ art creds by;; separuhpuding. dividers are not mine, if you own these, you may claim them in comments.

: ̗̀➛ WORD COUNT;; 3.1K

: ̗̀➛ plot aspects inspired by;; @selfishdoll (good ass writer,, i recommend)

* dark mode recommended

* do not copy this plot. i’m perfectly fine with inspirations but give creds. if this plot his stolen in any way, the post will be taken down and you will be blocked.

𝐃𝐀𝐊𝐎𝐓𝐀𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒 ✉️🖇️;; ngllll i was writing the smut in gym class. i was INTO it. but its nothing heavy…just a lil nasty nasty 🌚 this was my first time writing for choso BUT THIS MAN SO FINE. i hope ya enjoy ittttt

you and choso were roommates. it wasn’t surprising. you both went to the same college, you were good friends. nothing was wrong with that. but you were wondering what went wrong…why the two of you drifted apart.

“morning, choso!” you beamed at the 5’11 male sitting on the couch, his violet irises looking intently at his paper, loosely holding the pencil between his fingers. “Smoke Break-Dance” by JID played quietly on the speaker beside the tv, you noticed. you smiled a bit. choso must’ve been picking up on your music taste…or it was conveniently playing and he didn’t realize.

the male finally glanced up at you, registering your presence and lifted his hand, replacing actual words.

you plopped down beside him, making the side you sat on sink downward underneath him. his violet irises dragged to their left to look at you.

“whatcha doing?” you smile.

choso could never get over your soft voice and playful attitude. it always made him feel like he was doing something wrong. was he too boring? was it the fact that he hardly had any energy to do anything at all and he just laid around majority of the day? he didn’t know himself.

“writing…” he said quietly. “writing a poem…”

a couple months into your junior year of college was when he told you he loved you. he couldn’t explain himself but that’s what he was feeling all that time you stayed with him.

when you came around, he had a weird feeling in his chest when he saw you.

‘this body is betraying me’ he thought. he thought it was odd to be feeling this way about a human. a woman at that.

choso was a bit possessive of you. he enjoyed your company but grimaced at the men that came into your vicinity. the male watched from a distance, swallowing his urge to burst into a fit of rage but it would completely ruin his calm image.

“it’s fine,” yuji shrugged, waving his hand at his big brother, “that’s your girl, of course you’d be upset at another dude talking to her. it’s completely fine. don’t get so aggy.”

choso was happy to have his little brother, yuji there to comfort him when we was too nervous to confront you about the situation. from simple situations like this all the way to why he had an odd feeling between his legs when he kissed you. he didn’t think the rod that hung down in his lower area would be used for more than just using the bathroom….until yuji said so.

your “first time” was pretty interesting. it consisted of choso asking you if you were okay or if he was doing it right, to which you replied “yes” each time followed by a moan. you were wondering if he had done this before but you chose not to get into it.

more time goes by and then that’s when you realized that you were drifting apart.

choso was pursuing a career in art. drawing realistic portraits, using his heaven sent abilities to make drawings that looked like davinci had created them.

you were attempting to be a nurse, so you were off campus a lot, spending time at other hospitals to do “hands on” learning. neither of you had much time to talk to each other, though you sent texts back and forth assuring each other that everything was okay.

choso’s pupils retracted, hearing the sudden news of you wanting to break up with him. it was like he was going into shock.

“don’t you understand how much it would hurt me to see you go?” he said, his deep voice breaking. you never heard him sound so broken before. the moment almost made you cry yourself. the male gently took your hands, his sad eyes looking into yours, searching for an answer. but there was nothing.

“Y/N please…” you felt his grip on your hands get a bit tighter. you kept your head down, avoiding eye contact with him to refrain from making yourself cry in front of him.

you were gone and that was the end of it. you left your favorite person with his heart hurting, making him feel like he had to throw up. it was like his whole world had went cold, now that you weren’t in it.

two years passed and you haven’t seen choso. you were starting to forget about him. there were some physical features about him that you forgot too…like the way he looked bored all the time or the fact that he always had his hair in two buns and occasionally letting it all the way down.

you went on about your day while choso was probably in his room crying his eyes out, falling into a depression.

you heard a knock at your apartment door. you were confused at first because you weren’t expecting anyone to come over and a select few people knew where you lived. you put on a pair of joggers after walking around in nothing but an oversized hoodie and a pair of ankle socks.

the moment you opened the door, a set of hands clasped onto your waist like a corset and pulled you closer to the owner of those said hands. you were pulled into a really tight hug.

you melted in this person’s arms. their touch, the way they smelled, their warmth…you missed it. your arms wrapped around them, returning that hug. you could feel your scleras burning as tears began to form in your eyes.

memories of choso flooded back into your mind like a tsunami consuming an entire city. salty lines of tears slid down your cheeks and you held the male a bit tighter than he was holding you.

“i’m so sorry, cho.” you cried. “i didn’t mean to hurt you the way i did. i didn’t know what i was doing and—”

you were immediately cut off by a kiss. you had a storm of emotions swirling through your body, your eyes traveled up to the male after he pulled away from you.

a tired smile was flashed at you before you heard him say something just above a whisper, his deep voice startling you a bit.

you forgot about that.

“don’t apologize.”

“but i left you alone for so long. you aren’t upset? you not feeling some type of way about me?” your voice shaking from your recent crying.

“no, i’m not angry.” choso said, his hand sliding down your arm to hold yours. “it’s been two years…and i waited until you were ready.”

“i was told that i should be patient and i shouldn’t try to hold you back.” he added but his words only made you cry even more. he waited for you? he could’ve found so many other women and he waited two years for you?

“why did you wait? you could’ve found someone else to replace me, you know that?”

the violet eyed male just shrugged. “loyalty. if you needed a century, i’ll wait for you.” choso’s loyalty was that of a dog waiting for its owner to return after being gone for hours on end.

having nine other brothers, choso knew what loyalty was and it was something he valued heavily. but most importantly, he valued you. your safety. everything.

“good job, cho!” yuji grinned as he threw his arm around the taller male’s waist. choso’s head swung around, his hair flowing with him and looked at the other, feeling a bit embarrassed.

“i knew you could do it.” he continued.

“why are you even here…?” choso queried, putting on his awkward smile. you just watched with a smile on your face as the pair of brothers chattered until it faded into playful bickering.

later that day, you and choso were at your apartment, in your bedroom relaxing after yuji convinced the two of you to hang out with him for the day. choso was reading a book called “The Art of War”. you enjoyed when he read aloud to you. even though you were getting a bit bored, you didn’t wanna tell him that.

you were getting impatient. needy even. you missed being so close to him and being touched by his hands that looked two times the size of yours. abruptly, the book closes before choso would kiss you passionately as if something had possessed him. his lips were pressing against yours. he didn't say anything, his breath was heavy. everything was blurry to him.

choso held you tight against him, his hands moving to caress your waist. he was no longer thinking straight. he kept kissing you. he was drunk off of the feeling. but he cared about your lips. they were soft and plushy. he couldn’t even remember the last time he felt something as good as this.

soon, his hands moved to your neck. he caressed your throat, tenderly. his head was swimming, filled only by the feelings he had for you. kissing turned into biting, and biting turned into licking, and licking turned into kissing again. his lips were everywhere on your body. all he wanted was you.

there was no talking anymore. only the sound of the two of you breathing. you were breathing fast, filled with excitement. the way choso was looking at you was driving you crazy. he wanted you just as much as you wanted him.

he was caressing you from top to bottom, his lips kissing every part of you. it was...perfect. he was yours, you were his. it made sense. what else did you need?

“you're so beautiful..." he whispered. “...so perfect.”

you felt his bare chest against yours. his body was hot. it felt incredible. you were lost in the pleasure, and there was no returning. it was too late to stop. choso wanted you and you wanted him. It was too good to be true. his hands were touching you everywhere, teasing you, making your blood pump faster, making you moan.

he made you moan loudly. his lips and tongue were everywhere. your whole body was shaking. everything felt amazing. every sensation was magnified by a hundred. the smell of his skin, his voice, his moans in your ear...it made you feel like you were going to go insane.

the male was holding both of your wrists. he was looking at you with lust. he didn't care about anything else. you were feeling so good you were unable to think anymore. your heart was pumping like crazy, your legs were shaking.

he kissed your neck, your collarbone, your breasts. his hands were everywhere on your body. he wanted you badly. he couldn't control himself. he was all over you. he didn't care if it was a little dirty. his hands were exploring every inch of your body, making you moan and scream loudly.

he took off your clothes while his eyes kept scanning your body. soon, you were both naked. you looked at each other's body with lust and excitement. you knew how right this was. nothing else mattered. all of your senses were focused on this moment.

the room was flooded with the sound of both your moans and your breathing. your body was hot, your mind was fuzzy. you were not yourself anymore. you were a different being, full of sensuality.

choso was looming over you now, looking down at you with burning passion in his eyes. he was holding your wrists tightly and staring at you, his muscles twitching, as if he was imagining what he'd do to you. you could feel his breath on your neck, your collarbone... you could smell him.

his fingers were kneading your skin, his hands were sliding all over your body. he wanted to possess you. he was devouring you, slowly, passionately, thoroughly. his hands were feeling you, exploring you, learning you. he was learning how your body was shaped all over again, to better pleasure you.

he was slowly moving his tongue against your thighs now, kissing his way up your body. your heart was beating faster and faster. you could hardly breathe. he was taking his time, but he wasn't playing games with you. he wanted you to enjoy this.

he was caressing your inner thighs, kissing them, licking them, making your legs shake. you couldn't remain silent anymore. you were overwhelmed by desire. he was in control, controlling you in the most delicate way possible, making you surrender to his will.

you began reaching down to choso’s lower area, gently caressing the length that he had been hiding from her. you bit your lip as you stared in awe and pure excitement.

he had no words. his lips were quivering as he stared at you. he was feeling you, feeling your desire. he wasn't thinking about anything else in this moment. he was in awe, in total disbelief. he was breathing furiously as he looked at your hand, moving slowly down.

he closed his eyes, unable to bear the intensity of the situation. a moment later, he opened his eyes, staring at you. his expression was intense. his face was flushed. he wasn't saying anything. all he could do was stare at your hand, moving so slowly up and down...

you moved your hand away for a moment, teasing your partner. choso couldn't help but moan loudly, feeling his heart pound so aggressively. he was addicted to your touch.

he looked at your face, still flushed, wanting to see you enjoying this moment as much as he was. your hand was moving up and down again, so slowly and... so seductively. it was too much for him, but you weren't stopping. you wanted to see him beg.

he could feel it. he was so close to the edge. his whole body was shaking, his breath was rapid. he was holding his breath, unable to control himself. It was taking so long, it was too much for him. he wanted you so badly, and you were making him wait. and you were enjoying it all.

he was so desperate, so hot, so ready to explode any second now. he was looking at you with pleading eyes.

"Y/N... i can't... anymore..." you heard choso mumble.

your eyes narrowed. he was yours, and you were in control. you were loving every second of it. you put your hand back on him and looked at him with a mischievous smile.

“wait a little bit more,” you said, still keeping your hand moving up and down. your free hand went to his mouth to stop him from talking. “be a good boy for me.” you added, with a sultry voice.

he was almost begging you to stop at this point. you were torturing him, playing with him. you had absolute power over him, and you loved it. you didn't want to give in just yet. you were playing with him, enjoying every second of it. it was such a thrilling feeling. you wanted him to suffer a little longer.

he was holding himself, trying to remain calm. the sensation was getting to his head. it was too much. he was starting to feel weak, his legs were trembling, and his hand was shaking.

he was shaking. he tried to move, to get away from your hand, but you were stronger. you held him tight. you were making him wait for your final touch, making him beg for it. he was so vulnerable, so at your mercy.

he was losing control, not able to think, not able to say anything. his breath was racing, his body was shaking, his mind was empty. all he could feel was you. your hand touching him, teasing him, driving him crazy.

choso was breathing heavily, trying to make sense of what was happening to him. he couldn't take it anymore. he turned his head away, hiding his trembling body. his body felt overwhelmed, so close to the edge.

“i can't... please,” he mumbled, his voice barely understandable through the moan. his eyes were closed tight, his face buried in the pillow.

you felt like the goddess of lust, controlling choso’s mind and body, as if he was a puppet in your hands. his voice, his breath, his body were all yours to control. you had broken him, and you were loving it. your whole body was shaking, just a lot less than his, but you still felt incredibly empowered.

you put your hand down again, but you didn't move it anymore. you kept it on him, looking at his face. “not yet,” you whispered.

choso was breathing fast, staring at you. his eyes were so full of lust, desire and love. he could barely move, his body was so tense, so close to the edge, shaking as if he was about to explode.

you were in complete control of his body and of his mind. you were enjoying this. watching him like this, looking at you, wanting you... it was delicious.

you could do anything you wanted with this weak and sensitive boy. literally anything. you could make him beg, you could make him shout. you could do whatever you wanted with him.

your hand was still touching his body. you kept looking at his face, drinking his expressions of love, lust and desire. you were loving watching him like this, enjoying your power over him.

you moved your free hand up to his face, caressing his cheek. you could feel his breath on your skin. he was trying so hard to remain still, but you could see he was shaking, his body so tense.

“don't move,” you whispered to him, with a provocative smile on your face. “stay still for me, boy.”

his heart was beating so fast. he was saying your name like it was the only thing he knew. he was looking at you, but he could hardly keep his eyes open. tears welled up in his eyes from pleasure. he physically couldn’t handle it but he wanted more of it. how could he resist you? you made him feel so weak in this situation. he felt dizzy. his entire body feeling numb.

soon enough, ropes of white substance spewed from his manhood and he was completely out of breath. choso laid down on top of you and you moved your hand away from him, putting your arms around him.

he’d kiss your lips gently before tucking his head into your neck and closing his eyes.

“i missed you so much.” he said quietly.

“i missed you too.” you replied before your eyes closed, falling asleep after your high died down.

𝐄𝐍𝐃.

⋆｡࿇ ·࣭࣪̇˖ 𖦹°༅༚

#choso kamo #𝐾𝑂𝑇𝐴 𝑊𝑅𝐼𝑇𝐸𝑆 書く #choso x black!reader #jjk choso #jujutsu kaisen choso #choso x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #jujutsu itadori #jjk x reader #choso x female reader #choso x reader smut #choso smut #anime

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finleycannotdraw · 6 months

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can u recommend some bands? i think i like ur music taste and i am terrible at finding music

ty :)

of COURSE I can <3 you’ve probably heard of some of these, but maybe there’ll be some you haven’t! I don’t know what you already like, so… here we go :)

Hozier. Yeah this was always going to be first on the list I’m currently listening to basically nothing else! He’s an Irish folk/soul/blues/etc idk musician who uses a lot of religious and mythological themes in his lyrics and has a lot of songs that include social justice commentary.

The Amazing Devil is a folk rock band with an incredibly unique sound. Their songs are incredibly emotional and have an awesome fantasy vibe going on—plus there’s two singers, and they often sing independently from each other, which is something you don’t see often!

Good Morning Bedlam is a bluegrass band that I’ve gotten into recently! They’re sort of like… a mix of the amazing devil and the crane wives?

The Crane Wives, while we’re at it, and

The Oh Hellos. they’re fairly similar and I don’t have a ton to say about their stylistic differences, but they’re all definitely worth checking out!

Florence & The Machine. Most people have heard of them but I always like to recommend them anyway

Alec Benjamin, if you’re into softer indie music! He has a lot of different styles of lyrics, but his voice is consistent, so he’s great to listen to if you’re looking for that sort of variety.

Chxrlotte doesn’t have a lot of music out, but I’m a big fan of the music she has released, including the ones about Good Omens! The others are more angsty which I love too.

The Family Crest is an orchestral indie pop rock band, which blows my mind. I can’t believe orchestra isn’t a more utilized tool in popular lyrical music, because they do it so well.

Good Kid is actually my brother’s favorite band, and I love them too. They’re also indie rock, but they have a very distinctive style and are easy to get into! Plus they haven’t released a shit ton of songs like some other artists, so it isn’t overwhelming to explore their discography.

Jonatha Brooke is an artist I only know about because my mom liked her music a lot in the 90s, but she’s got a super nice voice and has some awesomely relatable lyrics. I especially recommend her album Ten Cent Wings!

Midlake is a super melodic folk rock band. I’m obsessed with their album The Courage of Others, which has a melancholy vibe that’s super easy to get lost in.

Palaye Royale is harder rock than anyone else on the list so far, but they’ve got an awesome style. Unique voice and definitely darker themes in their lyrics.

Tears for Fears is a pop rock band that I love because my dad does. (My parents are musicians—I trust their music taste).

Toad the Wet Sprocket got their name from Monty Python, but PLEASE go listen to the Architect of the Ruin EP. You will not regret it. Also the song Something’s Always Wrong is like… entrenched in my very being.

Elbow is a band that I never see in fandom circles, but they’re definitely not obscure. Check out their album Little Fictions! They’re kind of like Midlake.

Will Wood ranges from chaotic and fun (The Normal Album) to absolutely soul-crushing (in case I make it)! Sometimes even both at the same time!

(I would’ve also put Paramore, Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance, and other rock/pop punk bands I like on there, but I assumed you already know them.) (If you were looking for harder rock or metal, let me know, because this list is not that.)

If you want more genre-specific recs or even album/song recs, don’t hesitate to ask!! Music is the fuel of my soul.

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the-floral-perspective · 7 months

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Iconic Creepypasta Duos

(All Platonic)

Toby and Jane!

Ultimate best friends, like everyone in the mansion knows they’re besties.

Toby originally was drawn to Jane because she reminded him of his sister, but slowly him and Jane worked through his idea of her. After that, Tony realized that Jane would always be there for him, so he wanted to support her too.

Through Toby, Jane is allowed to be weird and unleash her inner monologue without judgement, which is why she appreciates him so much. He’s a girls guy 100%

Around the mansion, you almost never see them apart. They both also aren’t the biggest fans of Jeff, though they’re pretty close with Liu.

Ben and EJ!

These two are consistently getting caught in random shenanigans. Both of them being naturally curious and knowledge hungry, it’s pretty easy for them to lurk around. They’re like shadow best friends or gossip friends.

They see all the shit around the mansion and don’t hesitate to spread it around. Tbh these two are the Regina Georges of the mansion.

Jack is the smarter one when going into one of their curiosity missions, but he’s still stupid when it comes to blowing his cover. Ben is the one who insinuates their missions, like why has Slenderman been leaving the house lately? They found out Slendy Wendy had brothers.

Jeff and LJ!

Most sadistic mfers, they prank an ungodly amount. Both are loud and comedic, Jeff is more extreme though. These two can NOT go on a mission together because they will fail.

The person they prank the most would be Ben probably. Ben is easy to persuade into doing dumb shit so he’s kind of their TV.

You will find Jeff stacking donuts on Jacks nose for funzies. They are consistently doing dumb stuff, it’s funny, but they kind of act like those guys in your math class.

Nurse Ann and Bloody Painter!

Ann and Helen are a lot closer then the rest of the pastas think. Both being introverted, when they hang it’s mostly in their rooms or the medical hall. Since they aren’t as crazy or loud, they’re often overlooked.

Neither mind though, both of them get pretty funny when they’re alone. Most of what they do is watch dumb shit or cartoons. (Both avid fans of SpongeBob)

You will find these two doing really weird shit if they think no one is looking. They will actively make you feel left out two with the amount of inside jokes they have.

Hoodie and Liu!

These two are also really quiet, not really close friends but they’re on missions together a lot. They share a similar music taste and often give each other playlists to listen to.

Even though they’re work partners, they talk occasionally outside of their missions. Liu is naturally hella funny and Hoodie is a giggler.

Neither of them are extremely close, but they’re getting there.

Jason the Toymaker and EJ!

Jason is always getting hurt, this bitch is clumsy asf. Over this EJ and Jason started becoming friends. At some point at the mansion, you��ll notice Jack hitting Jason over the head with a thick book because Jason’s a little bit of a Himbo.

Think of Jason as Blackstar from Soul eater and Jack is Death the kid. Jason causes almost too much havoc for Jack, but they still bond regardless. Even if Jack is beating the shit out of Jason.

They aren’t as close as Ben and Jack, but they’re still good friends.

Sally and Judge Angels!

I don’t know much about Judge Angels, but I feel like she’d take a quick liking to Sally. Sally is a sassy mf and Dina returns that energy, which is prob why Sally likes her so much.

Most the Pastas are scared of returning sass to sally since she has the most power in the house, but Dina doesn’t. Dina and Sally together are like balls of fire.

Both of them actively pull pranks and blame it on Jeff and LJ. Then they’ll prank them themselves. The 4 of them have a cute little prank war going on.

Jane and Clockwork!

Jane is everyone’s best friend, she generally gets along and likes most the people in the mansion. When Clockwork came along tho, they just hit it off immediately!

Both of their crude humor just bounced perfectly off each other. You can always find them giggling about some weird shit. Think of their relationship like Brittney and Trixie’s on YouTube.

They have talked about starting a podcast before, they’re literally like sisters.

Candypop and Slenderman!

Candypop is very… personal. I mean he gets close. He’s also the same height as Slenderman. Candypop has an obsession with bothering those who are reserved, he’s weird with everyone. He’s always taking people out of their shells.

Still, him and Slenderman are essentially the ultimate duo. Candypop gets along well with his brothers too. Seriously, most the time Candypop is talking Slenders (nonexistent) ears off.

It’s so often to see Candypop following around Slenderman that the other pastas started harassing both of them. Slender pays no mind to this.

Candypop and Puppeteer!

Another case of the Candypop disease puppeteer was blessed with. The menace. Honestly though, these two are best friends and they find enjoyment on missions together. Whenever Candypop isn’t up Slendermans ass, he’s up puppeteers. Seriously Candypop is a menace.

Since they’re some of the only creepypastas that kill outside of their assignments, typically they go on sprees together in their free time.

You may never see them together but you can always hear them laughing together. (Seriously, they’re always laughing and it’s a little scary because imagine it’s 3AM and you hear 2 grown men giggling?) (it’s kind of hot tho ngl)

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fariesoiree · 1 month

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caution! mdni 13k wrdz, best friend's bother!hobie x black fem! reader, hobie is twenty one, reader is 19, small town in the country, everyone knows everyone, a very brief moment of angst, reader is jealous, misunderstanding troupe (?) but quickly resolved, crybaby reader, kitchen sex w/people in the house, unprotected sex, fingering, handjob, cunnilingus, p in v sex, unprotected sex, facial, cum eating, open ending

miffy's note! this took me like two weeks to write which is so much faster than every other fic i’ve written in a while. i knowwww she has a lot of words but she is my baby and I hope everyone loves her as much as I do. enjoy <3 pls do not spam like my blog if you enjoyed it, feel free to tell me in the reblogs

there’s a waxy smell in the freshly opened soda shop, one that reminds you of the shiny tiles that line the floor of the high school you graduated from, the high school most people graduated from.

highbury high, smack dab in the middle of highbury hills. it’s the only high school for miles, operating on a set curriculum and generic uniforms. fits right in with the small town vibe.

“do you know what you want?” your long-time friend, maise, glances over at you. she’s a darling thing, curly hair braided into pigtails and tied with two white ribbons. her arms are crossed over her stomach, clothed in a white tank top just barely cropped. “there’s so many options, i can’t decide.”

you sniff, eyes glazing over the yellow tinted menu. your tongue skims over your lips, getting a taste of the vanilla flavored lip gloss. “i dunno. i don’t even think i want anything. i’m too nervous, like i’m gonna throw up.”

maise’s deer shaped eyes find yours in sympathetic understanding. “aw, honey. it’ll be okay. it’s been years, now. i doubt he even remembers.” her hands massage the kinks out your tense shoulders in a tight grip. “you were a kid, anyway.”

“yeah, maybe.” you offer a small smile in return. you find you’re disinterested in the menu, stomach rolling in its queasiness for the anticipated scenario. “i still don’t think i want anything. i don’t think i could keep it down.”

maise just shrugs and orders a rootbeer float for herself. she gets your anxiety but she’s never been the best at helping you through your emotions, even more so when she can’t relate. maise doesn’t have an older brother, not one with an attractive best friend that she used to have a crush on as a child.

with the acrylic, milkshake cup settled between the fingers of your friend, you both move towards the booths surrounding the perimeter of the retro-styled shop.

it’s really, very cute. quaint with pop music softly wafting from the speakers and a red, white, and blue theme consistent throughout. america’s sweetheart is what this place is known as, although you prefer to think it’s talking about a better, more ethical version of the country.

“you have to admit it’s kind of exciting, though.” despite your claims, maise still pops a second straw into the float and settles the cup between you. “i mean, your brother and hobie are coming home today and you haven’t seen hobie in like, two years. the last time anyone saw him was on graduation day, right? and then he packed up and left town. and your brother! he kept contact this whole time and didn’t tell anyone? doesn’t that bother you a little bit?”

you wait until she’s retreated to grab the straw between your thumb and pointer finger and tap a long, drawn out sip. the sugary sweetness does nothing to quell your nerves but it gives you time to come up with a response. “mm, not really. hobie is quen’s friend. plus, everyone knew he was gonna skip town. he didn’t like it here and he made that very clear.”

although your words convey otherwise, there’s a small seed of discomfort in your tummy. it would have been nice to keep you in loop, especially since you were under the impression that you and hobie were somewhat acquainted with each other. after all, he’s been good friends with quentin since elementary school and has known you for just about the same amount of time.

“okay but you’re not even curious? not even a little?” maise tilts her head inquisitively, lips drawn in a pout. “hobie is coming home after being gone for two whole years and you don’t care at all.”

“i didn't say i don’t care, mai. i do care and it's nice that he’s stopping by for a visit but let’s be serious, it’s hobie. in all the years we’ve known him, when has he ever committed to anything?” you turn your gaze towards your baby pink nails, shiny and just long enough to clack against your phone when you text. “i don’t want you to get excited over a summer romance that hasn’t even happened and won’t happen. we’re friends and barely that. his loyalty is with quen.”

you can feel the change in the atmosphere the longer you sit in silence. you’re hesitant to look her in the eyes and find a sudden interest in the condensation trickling down the side of the glass.

“uh huh. so if you feel all of that, why are you nervous? you don’t like hobie anymore, and he owes you nothing. what’s the problem then?” she rests her cheek in the palm of her hand, supported by the elbow resting on the table.

instead of answering her question, your hand smacks down against the table. it echoes in the empty room, filled by only you two and mr. terry, the owner of the shop.

“you know what, i have to go. it’s almost three and quen should be home soon. you know how punctual he is.” you grab your purse and sling the strap over your shoulder.

“chicken!” maise points a finger at you. she’s glowing with a toothy grin while watching you prepare to bolt for the door. “you can’t avoid it forever, honey.”

you brush off her comment with a hug and a wave. “whatever. love you. i’ll call you tonight with the details, maybe. bye!”

you all but run out of the shop, white sundress blowing with the opposing force of your movement. it’s not quite three o’clock yet but leaving is better than letting maise interrogate you further. she’s a riot but she got you pinned up against the wall and there’s nothing fun about being forced to answer her questions and face the music you’ve been tuning out for weeks. at least now you’d have some time to freshen up before the great arrival.

by the time you’re finished primping and set the hot curler down to refresh your styled silk press, you can hear the engine of your brother's lexus rolling into the driveway.

you lean forward and tug the curtains back in a firm grip to peak out into the driveway. between you and quentin, you received the larger room with the connected bathroom and it offered a perfect view of the front yard. said view is particularly handy for times like these.

you watch the driver door pop open, breath hitched in your throat and refuse to make any movements until you get the answers you're looking for.

a polished sneaker makes its appearance and becomes stationed on the white pavement. a body follows, tall and stocky and unlike the statuesque frame you’re subconsciously excited about.

pushing yourself even more to your feet and across the expanse of your vanity, you flick the latch of your window until it clicks to signal its unlocked. you push it up with such force that it soars much farther than you anticipated but that’s the least of your concerns right now.

“quentin!” you yell from your bedroom with a wide smile and a vigorous wave at your older brother below you.

your voice gets his attention and he snaps his head in your direction. “ ☆ !” he mirrors your expression, arms open wide in a hug as if he expected you to fly down into his embrace. he bumps the car door closed with his side. “i’m coming up.”

quentin’s words don’t stop you from flinging your door open, running down the stairs, fingertips grazing the wooden railing as you go. to some it may seem odd to be so cheery over the reappearance of your sibling but he’s your best friend, a staple part of your life to which you’d be lost without. if you aren’t running to the front door to see him, then there’s clearly a problem.

he’s already in the entryway, though, and peeling off his jacket to hang in the coat closet. the pittering of your feet long alerted quentin of your presence so he’s not shocked when you’re throwing yourself at him. “jeez, girl. did you eat a whole cow? you’re strong as shit.” his arm comes to wrap around your back and become settled between your shoulder blades.

“shut up,” you roll your eyes in return and separate yourself from him. you give him a once over, from the two strand twists at the top of his head, across the gray nike tech, and to the pristine white laces of his shoes. “wow, you really don’t look like you belong here anymore. that’s crazy, quen. you’re all grown up.”

“yeah well,” he pushes the closet door closed, waiting for its creaking hinges to silence before continuing his sentence, “gotta get out of this town someday. not you, though. you can stay. it suits you.” quentin’s eyes are filled with a brotherly fondness while giving you a similar once over. “where’s ma?”

you follow him to the bathroom to watch him wash his hands. “at work. dad, too. told me to text them when you get home but, uh, where’s all your stuff?”

quentin flicks his wrists into the sink and side-steps you. he rounds the corner to enter the kitchen, making a beeline for the fridge and popping it open. “oh, it’s at hobie’s place. i figured i’d leave the extra shit there since he has his own crib. do you know what mom’s making for dinner?”

you’re still trailing behind him, now leaned against the countertop with your arms crossed over your chest. when you’re face to face with the source of your turmoil, it’s hard to pretend it doesn’t exist. “so he really is back in town, huh.” it's not a question with the way you say it, staring at your fluffy sandals designated for wearing inside the house.

“mhm. forgot how talkative people here are. news spreads fast.” he pulls out a container of last night's leftovers and sets it beside you, already closing the fridge and moving on to find a plate. when his eyes find their way back to you, he’s surprised to see you glaring at him. “why are you looking at me like that?”

“because i’m a little upset that you didn’t tell me he was coming home. i get it if he didn’t want to draw attention to himself but it’s just me. i thought we were all cool.”

“we are all cool. it just slipped my mind, swear.” quentin bounces around the kitchen. he’s still engaged in your conversation though his sole focus is getting some food in his system but every now and then, he’ll glance at you while scooping fried rice onto a plate. “i didn’t intentionally not tell you. i just had a lot to do with the packing and the whole coming home thing. plus, you just finished your first year of college so i didn’t think you’d care so much. which you also still have to tell me how it went,” he puts the fork in his mouth and sticks the plate in the microwave.

“quentin,” you’re tempted to stomp your foot, no matter how childish it will come across.

“i didn’t exclude you on purpose, ☆ . i forgot and i’m sorry. next time, i’ll tell you as soon as i know.”

you’re somewhat pacified with his response, tossing his words over and over in your head until your concerns are soothed and the gloomy feeling dissipates. “fine but you have no idea what i had to go through with maise today. i swear she had all these theories and speculations about what its going to be like that i could have avoided if you told me.”

the microwave beeps, ringing its alarm that the timer has finished all throughout the kitchen. quentin is quick to take out his steaming plate and make his way towards the table with you still in tow. “oh, maise! how is she? i haven’t seen her in a minute.”

“she’s good. good grades, likes her college, majoring in child development. who cares, though. i want to know about hobie. it’s been two years.” you sit next to him, even going as far as pushing the chairs closer as if the topic needed it, as if hobie is a taboo subject.

“he’s great. he’ll be by later, said he wanted to stop by and see you and then he has to make his rounds.” quen shovels a forkful of food into his mouth. he’s eyeing his plate with an almost blank stare. you’re too close for him to feel comfortable looking at you, expectantly. as if he’s going to drop some big news about hobie’s return.

he's not an idiot. he knows, knew, about your crush on his best friend. it was obvious watching you go through all the childish phases, giggling to clinging onto to him to trying to play it cool. quentin has seen it all and he doesn’t think he can handle watching your excitement grow and dull when hobie ultimately makes his decision to leave. “he’s got that place he rents out when he’s not here. don’t know how long he plans on staying, though. when i asked, hobie said two months so i guess we’ll see.”

you’re blissfully unaware of the idea that quentin’s words are for your sanity, to calm the budding excitement as you gather strands of your hair between the tips of your fingers and stare at the freshly trimmed ends. “that’s nice. maybe he’ll come to the summer festival in a few days.”

that elicits a scoff out of your brother. “fat chance. hobie brown? he’s not showing his face at those things. he thinks they’re capitalistic holidays that prey on children. personally, i think he just really hates this town and is coming up with a bullshit excuse not to go.”

you let the bundle of hair between your fingers go and it drops back towards your shoulder in a soft heap. “did he say that or are you speaking for him?”

“he doesn’t have to say it, stupid. i just know.” quentin points his fork at you, flinging grains of cooked rice in your direction. despite the gross reaction that flashes across your face, all he does is laugh. genuine laughter with his head tilted back, clearly delighted to have bothered his dear sister. “it was an accident. i didn’t mean to.”

“get away from me.” you scrunch your face in disgust and shove the chair away from the table. it screeches against the floorboards with each movement. “you don’t point your fork at someone, dumbass. that’s fucking gross.” you say as you rise to your feet and make your exit, rolling your eyes on the way out.

it’s futile to pretend you aren’t looking forward to hobie pulling into the driveway. behind the closed door of your room, you barely watch the virgin suicides. the volume to the movie is turned down so low, you can almost hear your neighbor’s dog trotting on the pavement enjoying its walk. you’ve even gone as far as to open your window just in case you’d be too preoccupied to hear him as is.

you haven’t bothered to change out of the pretty dress, wanting to give off the best first impression you possibly could. after all these years have passed, it’s nearly critical that hobie sees you as you are, an adult. not because you still harbor feelings for him, but because that’s what you are now. you’re all grown up, just as he is.

quentin’s asleep in his room and offering you no answers as to when his friend is actually arriving nor did he request you to wake up when he does so. it’s only right to assume he’d rather stay asleep when hobie arrives then, isn’t it? especially after such a long trip.

hence why when the sound of hobie’s motorcycle reverberates through the glass pane of your window, you roll off your bed and to your feet with a sudden quickness. contrary to the excitement you greeted your brother with from your upstairs bedroom, you close the window the moment you reach it.

as soon as the white latch clinks shut, you’re flying out the door and down the stairs. the tips of your fingers graze the railing, only truly grasping it when you find yourself losing your balance at the speed you’re moving. if only maise could see you now.

you pull the front door open before hobie has a chance to ring the doorbell with such force, he flinches. there’s still a finger hanging in the air, adorned in silver rings and what seems to be a hand tattoo. that same hand is connected to a body, just as tall as you remember. your eyes trail as far as his shoulders, gaze already tilted upwards and too nervous to continue. it never occurred to you what being face to face with hobie would mean, would entail.

you didn’t think about him and his pine scent, paired with the natural musk of being outside. not once did you even think about the possible changes he’d go through within the past two years. even without looking at his face, you can already point out differences. he’s leaner, more muscles protruding from his tank top. grungier too, with dark wash baggy jorts sitting so low on his waist, you can see the calvin klein boxers peeking through the bottom. if you thought seeing hobie show off his toned stomach was a lot, the sight of the ink on his arm has you at a loss for words. a full sleeve of various line art and doodles.

you’re sick to your stomach.

“you’re back in town!” you finally gain the courage to look him in his eyes and nearly fall to your knees. “and you pierced your face!” your eyes dart between the nose piercing, the lip piercing, and the eyebrow piercing. slowly, you soak it all in, including the shoulder length locs tied into a ponytail. only after all of that do you look him in his eyes, filled with the same warmth and wonder as they were two years ago.

“ ☆ !” hobie’s face lights up with the same childlike glee as before, too. it’s like nothing has changed when he throws his arms around you to envelop you into a tight hug. “you noticed, did you?” he chuckles, deep and smooth right in your ear. unfortunately for you, it sends spirals into your stomach.

“do you like them? i want to get my tongue pierced this summer, too.” he finally pulls away and reveals his toothy grin, full of dazzling white teeth that can only come from regularly visiting a dentist. “but how have you been? i haven’t seen you in forever. you’re so . . .” he gives you his own once-over, much shorter than the one you gave him, “not a little kid anymore.”

you aren’t too sure what to make of that but you step aside anyway to welcome him into your home. suddenly, you’re far more nervous than you were at the mere thought of hobie coming over. he was intimidating just as a concept but in person? he’s even worse. he’s too pretty and composed. “i’m so not a little kid anymore?” you try to offset your awkwardness by turning the situation back to him.

“yeah. i mean, you look nice, ☆ .” hobie stands with his hands in his pockets and a lazy smile. there’s not one ounce of embarrassment or hesitation written on his face. however, it oozes out of you. “so, where’s your brother at? he’s supposed to be going around town with me. it makes it less weird if we’re both there.”

“oh, quen fell asleep a few minutes ago.” you say with your back to hobie, disguising your reluctance as a sudden interest in turning the lock rather slowly. “you’re welcome to wait until he wakes up but he’s out cold.”

hobie clicks his tongue with a sigh, eyeing the walls of your childhood home. it’s still lined with the same family portraits and kindergarten crafts. there’s even his own graduation picture on the mantle, sandwiched between yours and quentin’s. he snorts at the sight, dressed in the same black graduation cap and gown but missing some of the cords adorned by the others. not only was hobie not too involved in the community, but he merely did what he had to in school with the exception of a few clubs and hobbies. “no, he’ll probably be knocked for a while. i’ll just do it later, i guess.”

you nod, hugging yourself in a tight grip. your act to self soothe during your one-on-one isn’t very effective. the air feels thick with tension. you have the impression that it’s one-sided because hobie turns to face you.

“how about you come with me instead? we can ride around and go to that one park we used to go to as kids.”

for a moment, your heart drops to your feet. staring into his eyes does nothing good for your nervous system. as much as you attempted to convince both maise and yourself that you harbor no feelings towards hobie at all, everything in you is screaming otherwise.

your eyes settle on the floorboards and you sniff. “i don’t know. i don’t think i’d feel comfortable on your bike. don’t you have to wear gear and stuff?”

“well, yeah i’m supposed to.” he shrugs. his head is tilted to one side. “i don’t, though. not here at least. if i’m on the highway or in a big city then yeah but not here. nothing ever happens here.” parts of the hobie you subconsciously fear appear as a shadow on his face. the corners of his mouth twitch downwards and his eyes become clouded, but only for a second. “we can take your car if you’d like. i saw it in the driveway. it’s cute.”

he’s referring to the little volkswagen beetle parked just outside with a tan exterior and a decorated interior. it’s full of flower vent clips, pink seat covers, and scented with gain car air freshener.

“um,” you busy yourself by smoothing your hands over the skirt of your dress. suddenly, you’re reflecting on the fact that you are somewhat dressed up. sure, you curl your hair and wear cute dresses on the regular but never have you worn a cute dress, curled your hair, waited for someone to come over, and beat them to the door before they could announce their arrival. “sure. i guess we can do that. i don’t want you to think you have to, though. you came for quentin and he’s asleep so don’t force yourself.”

you’re surprised when hobie laughs, nose wrinkling with genuine enjoyment. he shakes his head and places his hand on your shoulder. it engulfs your skin like a warm blanket and gives you a squeeze. “never change, okay? you’re so sweet. get your keys and let’s go.”

there’s a strawberry field just across the park guarded by a wire fence. some kids gather around the edges and pluck the berries off the overgrown branches that poke just close enough for them to reach with their little fingers.

the breeze carries the sounds of high-pitched laughter and squeals from the children running about. with school just recently letting out, the park is well occupied. it’s a surprise to no one to see a crowd of elementary schoolers running around the slides and pushing each other on the swing.

you sit at a bench. the metal is warmed from the sunlight beaming down. you have your phone in your hand, pumping out back to back texts to maise filled with terrible grammar and even worse spelling. to say you're panicked would be an understatement. you’re more than panicked. you feel so wrong about being here, more or less alone with your brother’s best friend. the same best friend that you’ve had the biggest crush on for years, only for him to disappear and for you to assume everything you’ve ever felt and thought would be gone with him. the same best friend who’s return brought back the juvenile feelings from your youth.

he’s gone to the ice cream truck parked in the parking lot to buy you both popsicles and therefore, giving you about five minutes to figure out your game plan. maise is no help. most her texts consist of “i told you so” and laughing at your inevitable demise. you feel just about ready to melt into the pavement and through your phone across the park, in no particular order. your nails just might break your screen with the amount of force between each push.

“are you mad at someone?”

you're quick to turn your phone off in the amount of time it takes for you to look up at hobie, standing in front of you with two popsicles, one in each hand. “huh? oh, no. it’s just maise. she’s being so stupid.” the frustration has yet to dissipate and your face shows it, huffing a breath of annoyance. “you’d think you ask someone for advice and they’d actually give it to you instead of making fun of you.”

“mm,” hobie has a seat next to you. he hands you the powerpuff girls popsicle, very obviously supposed to be styled after bubbles. its still in it’s wrapper and it’s a good thing at that. already the popsicle began to get a little soft in the summer heat. “advice about what?” he, himself, holds one of those spongebob ones that never come out right. for a moment, you consider that perhaps he’s reminiscing about the days where you, quentin, and hobie would run out at the sound of the ice cream truck and get the silly cartoon popsicles, only to compare who’s looks the worst.

“oh, just about my classes. i don’t know if i want to take one of my electives or not.” you spit out the lie faster than you can really process it. you peel the wrapper off the popsicle and stick it in your mouth to give you an excuse not to speak.

“i definitely can’t help you with that. i didn’t go to college so i really wouldn’t know.” for a brief moment, hobie finds humor in the distorted face of his spongebob popsicle before taking a small bite of the cold corner. “what’s it like? do you like it?”

the question makes you sigh. there really is no response you can give him that would push the conversation forward, especially when you have been asked the very same thing so many times by almost every adult in your life. “um, it’s okay. it’s hard, y’know, to find the motivation to make myself go to class and there’s always some sort of drama going on between someone and someone else.” you reminisce on the boy and friend drama you’ve both witnessed and experienced from a bittersweet perspective.

hobie nods, watching a group of giggling ten year olds run by. they seem to be participating in a game of tag, their cheeks rosy and eyes glistening with what can only be found in childhood. “can’t believe you’re in college now. that used to be us, playing at the park and then going to your house to have dinner.”

you don’t mention that hobie didn’t come to your graduation. instead, you kick a rock by your foot and change the topic of the conversation. “so, if you don't go to college, what do you do?”

“i’m a server at a restaurant. it makes pretty good money, actually. i can afford a one bedroom apartment in the city so i don’t mind. i’m in a band now too and sometimes i make stuff to sell.” he pulls out his phone for a split second to check the notification that vibrated in his phone before sliding it back into his pocket.

you’re grateful that he doesn’t outright tell you what he makes so you’re able to participate in the conversation and ask him, “what kind of stuff?”

“oh, like paintings, crochet stuff, stuff like that. arts and crafts that people like to buy. it does pretty well since that kind of thing is trending.”

the conversation falls a bit flat after that. you fault yourself, too self conscious to relax around him. a part of you is overjoyed to have him back and another part of you feels like a neglected afterthought. all this time, hobie was doing just fine. he was living his life and choosing who to keep contact with. it hurts your heart that he didn’t consider you at all but is so comfortable with returning and acting like nothing has changed. perhaps he didn’t take you as seriously as you would like.

“oh, that’s cool.” you try not to sound too sour when you say it. “it’s great that you made a life you enjoy.” you watch a blue drop of melted popsicle roll down and drip onto the white plastic gripped between your fingers. gravity continues to pull the droplet down towards the stick and it stains the wood blue.

hobie glances at you, eyebrows knitted together. he takes in your expression and the subtext behind it. it’s obvious what he’s doing behind his scrutinizing gaze. “yeah? you can be honest. you know that, right?”

“mhm,” you nod with a hum. you’re not interested in engaging any further with the topic. instead, you eye a ladybug crawling on the bench armrest. it’s not like you planned on discussing your deep emotional feelings with him anyway, especially not here. “i’m happy for you, really.”

you can still feel hobie’s eyes boring into the side of your face but the feeling does nothing to capture your attention and turn your head back towards him. instead, you nearly praise whatever higher power caused your conversation to be interrupted by an onlooker.

“oh my gosh, hobie brown!”

you both turn your head to the perpetrator. hobie is just as surprised as you are to see magnolia, from high school, walking up to you both. you don’t know her very well considering she was in the same graduating class as your brother but you’re aware of her.

truthfully, you’ve never liked her very much during your younger years. you despised the way she’d cling onto hobie and quentin, often forcing her way into their circle. at least, you’d consider it forcing. quentin always told you not to worry about it.

here she is again, forcing herself into your hangout with your supposed friend who’s there with you. she’s grinning as she walks up to you both, hands planted on her waist. you so badly want to judge her for her outfit choice but you know you can’t. it’s not like you don’t know what type of person magnolia is and how much she pushes the social standards most people operate with. still, something vile twists inside you and even more so when you catch hobie’s eyes wandering across her body.

that is also no surprise because you know their history. of course hobie wouldn’t be able to deny himself from staring at magnolia like this when she’s wearing daisy dukes, a tiny shirt, and so ready to reopen the book of their past.

“look at you. can’t believe you didn’t come by the moment you got back,” she teasingly smacks his arm with a tinkling laugh. her eyes briefly drift to your direction and she smiles out of politeness. “oh hey, sugar. tell your brother i said hi, would you?”

you nod and pull your lips tight. suddenly, what interest you did have died a painful death and you turn back to the ladybug as your only comfort. unfortunately, that too is gone and you’re left with nothing but the ability to listen in on a conversation you want nothing to do with.

“aw, maggie. don’t worry, i’m still planning on it. you’ll get a very special and personal visit, just for you.”

“promise?”

you nearly choke, face scrunching up in disgust. you’re not five and can read between the very obvious lines. you feel the need to remind them that you are quite literally right there and swallow the green monster making a nice home in your heart. “i don’t mean to interrupt but i have to get home and get ready for dinner. do you want me to give you a ride, hobie, or are you good?”

you try to hide your disappointment before hobie can say anything. you can tell by his hesitation and expression what decision he’s going to make, glancing between both you and magnolia. he’s going to spend some quality time with her. “i think i’m good but you should get back. drive safe, okay? text me when you get home.”

“okay. then, i’ll see you later.” you rise to your feet and dig your hand into your purse, searching for the keys to your car. “bye magnolia. it was nice seeing you again.” her words of the returned gesture fall on deaf ears as you turn and head back to the parking lot. there’s a frown etched on your face and you dump the mostly-eaten popsicle into the trash.

it never crossed your mind that you’re not the only one who is looking forward to hobie back around. you’ve been so used to viewing yourself as the center of the universe that not once did you think about literally anyone else who has been involved in hobie’s past.

you pull the door open of your car and get inside, staring out of the windshield. you feel so teenage girl romcom movie but you don’t know what to do about it. one half of you wants to sob and rot in your bed and claim your heart is broken and the other part of you just wants to go home, eat dinner, and call maise.

you sit there like that for a few minutes before eventually turning on your car and starting the drive home. sza blares through the radio and is your only solace on your lonely drive home.

“no! and then she just shows up and takes him?” maise pulls out two small boxes of sour patch kids out of the plastic grocery bags on the counter. her eyes are wide and she’s hanging on to every part of your story.

it’s been about a week and a half since that time in the park with hobie and you’re still reveling in the emotions of it. you have yet to make a decision on how to conduct yourself around him and as a result, have begun to avoid him. you find it’s better not to be near him at all than to stand there and know that he wanted you to leave him so he could probably have mind blowing sex with his small-town fling.

“she just walks right over and he basically starts drooling.” you’re also unloading various snacks and a liter of soda from the grocery bags. tonight, you both plan to watch movies and eat junk food until your tummies are threatening to burst and you’re both ready to pass out from exhaustion. “i’m so stupid. i should have known. we weren’t even in the same crowd back then. why did i think anything would be different now?”

maise pities you just a bit. she sympathetically presses her lips into a pouty frown and reaches over the counter to grab your hand. “poor baby. in your defense, you have more of a southern belle, sweetest girl in town thing going for you and hobie is the exact opposite. it makes sense why he’d go for magnolia. you two have nothing in common and you’re virtually inexperienced.”

“i have experience!” you begin to pile the various snacks into the bin you brought down from your room just for the special occasion. “i have plenty of experience.”

“you had one situationship for half of your first year of college that treated you like shit. that’s not experience, babe. that’s trauma.”

you whip your head to give maise a pointed glare at bringing up what you’re trying so hard to forget. that chapter of your life is over and it died the moment the academic year ended. “okay but the point is, i am not a baby and i bet i could fuck just as good as she can. he just sees me as a little girl and i can never change that.”

“so what are you going to do?” your friend leans against the counter on the opposing side of you. she crosses her arms over her chest after adjusting her black leggings as they have risen above her ankles.

“nothing,” you say with a sigh. you grab the basket and hoist it onto your hips. “like i said, he sees me as a child. i’m just going to do what i’ve been doing, nothing. ignore him. just keep my distance until he goes home and forget all about him.”

what you don’t tell maise is that magnolia isn’t the only one. sometimes, the habits from your childhood return and you sit yourself at quentin’s door with your ear pressed up against the wood. you listen to his conversations with hobie, sometimes on the phone and sometimes in person, about his recent endeavors with the locals in town. so far, there has been at least one other girl since magnolia. whether he bounces between spending his nights with the two, you’re unsure and you don’t think you even want to know.

maise begins to open her mouth to say something but snaps it shut at the sound of the front door opening. there’s an irregular pattern that comes from two people coming through the door and for a moment, your face flashes with panic.

“i’m beginning to hate going out with you. every single time there’s always some girl ready to — oh hey.” quentin stops in the middle of his sentence as soon as he spots you standing in the kitchen. he jumps a bit, not having expected to see both you girls watching him walk into the house. “what are you doing here, maise?”

“we’re having a movie night.”she rises to standing and positions herself at your side.

“the sun is still out.” quentin lifts a finger to point to the window with the blinds open. sunlight streams through the trees of your backyard and reaches the living room.

“yeah. we just came back from the store and now we’re pregaming by talking shit.” she throws an arm around your shoulder, taking notice of your silence and lack of movement. it’s almost like you’re not breathing and it’s definitely because hobie is standing right there in all his glory, smiling right at you. maise using her grip on you to subtly nudge some sort of humanity back in you.

“anyway,” you clear your throat and take a sudden interest in reorganizing the bin of snacks, “we’re going to get going. we have a lot of girl stuff to talk about so see you later.” you take maise’s hand and take the lead in walking past the two and up the stairs of your house. you don’t miss the quizzical looks from both men at your hastiness to get out of being around them.

frankly, this isn’t the first time you’ve made a bolt to get out of being in the same room as them, but only when hobie is around. however, no one makes a move to question it and lets you do as you please. to quentin, it’s a sign you’re no longer hung up over his best friend and is far better than getting your hopes up for nothing. to hobie, you’re abhorrently avoiding him for some reason and he can’t stand it at all.

it makes him antsy, as if there’s some big impending doom coming that he won’t be able to stop. it makes him uncomfortable to see you get along so well with others and flee the moment he steps into the room and oddly enough, it’s only ever started happening since that one day. was it something he said or did? surely it can’t be because he didn’t accompany you back home. after all, you did text him to let him know you made it safely like he requested so he thought everything was fine. what is going on with you?

it’s somewhere between the hours of two and three am when you make the decision to trek downstairs for a cold glass of water. maise had fallen asleep on the left side of your bed a half hour ago and you had beaten her. you won by staying out longer than she did and decide to reward yourself with a neutral drink to wash the syrupy taste out your mouth.

the house feels awfully cold during such hours of the night and you regret leaving the warmth of your room in your oversized shirt and little pink shorts. both of your parents came home hours ago, wished you a fun night and retired to their beds in preparation for work the next day. you’re assuming no one else is awake with the only other options being quentin and hobie, if hobie is even here.

you sniff and rub your hands along your arms as you round the corner and enter the catch. in the darkness of night and with your squinting eyes, you use what spatial awareness you have to guide your way to the glasses in the cabinet.

you just manage to wrap your fingers around it before there’s some sort of shuffling behind you. you’re unnerved, almost dropping the glass in the time it takes you to look over your shoulder at the perpetrator. “hello?” you try to make out the form in the dark and find purchase in the knife drawer in front of you.

“it’s just me.” the voice is gruff and familiar and washes over you like a relaxing wave of warm water. “sorry, i wasn’t trying to scare you.”

“hobie?” you lean towards him to make out his figure in the shadows. the moonlight does little to aid in visibility. there is only a pale light struggling to come through the window. you have to reach over and turn on the stove light just to see him since your eyes have yet to adjust. “i thought you went home?”

“i did. i went to see my parents and it went just about as well as i thought.” hobie takes a seat at the bar stools behind the aisle. he seems strained, running his hand over his face with a sigh. “so i came back because i like it here more.”

“why didn’t you just go to your own house?” you feel a little underdressed in your attire all of the sudden. sure, you are preparing to go to sleep and in the comfort of your own house but you’d hate to give off the impression that you’re walking around without pants on.

“because i like it here more. pretty sure i said that,” now he’s rubbing his eyes, sitting up to lean against the back of the chair. “if you’re getting a glass of water, can you get me one too?” hobie’s lips turn up into a small, sad smile. his eyes look tired, worn out from whatever went down at his parents’ house.

you forgot all about the glass in your hand, looking down at it as if it’s appeared from the ether. “oh, you can just have mine. i’m probably going to go back to bed.” you’re still dead set on ignoring hobie. for one, it makes it so much easier to get used to the feeling of disappointment that he doesn’t see you when you literally don’t have to see him. not to mention, it’s difficult enough to look him in his eyes but to be alone with him and look him in the eyes? you have to go.

you set the glass down on the island and slide it over to him, prepared to take a quick and silent walk back to the safety of your room and your best friend asleep on your bed. “goodnight, hobie.”

you don’t make it very far before hobie is speaking to you, again. his gaze is following your attempt at escaping him and it’s annoying him that this is probably the thousandth time you’ve evaded him. “what is up with you? i’m clearly going through something and would benefit from talking about it with someone. i literally just left your house and showed up again and you’re not even going to ask me how i got in?”

you try to not huff when you turn to face him with an eyebrow quirked. “what are you talking about?” you clench your hands into small fists, only to flex them and release what tension you carry.

“what am i talking about? you speak like, five words to me now. i don’t know what i did to make this happen and i’m sorry but you’re literally avoiding me. you came down here for what, a glass of water? you gave me yours before you even got one and now you’re going back upstairs so you don’t have to talk to me. what did i do?”

you shake your head at his words. he’s not wrong. you have been avoiding him and looking for any way out not to speak or be around him more than you need to. still, hobie doesn’t have to bring it up. he shouldn't have brought it up. what are you going to do now? “i still don’t know what you’re talking about. i haven’t done anything to avoid you. i just don’t want water anymore and i want to go back to sleep.”

hobie presses his lips together. he’s doing his best not to stare at you with hardened eyes so he turns away, looking at the countertop instead. his frustration is palpable but he’s sensible enough to restrain himself, to keep himself from turning it into an argument. “okay, go to sleep then. goodnight.” he taps his nails against the side of the glass, listening to the little plinks ro distract himself from the unrest in his soul.

you stand there, staring at the back of hobie’s head even though he’s dismissed you. you’re free to go with no repercussions but the guilt from doing so while knowing he wanted to talk about whatever is plaguing him is too much to handle. “oh my god, fine. what is it? what happened at your parents'?”

your feet drag all the way towards the island and you sit on the bench beside him. you rest your hands in your lap and stare at the numbers reading back the time on the stove. they’re green and a great source of something to look at that isn’t hobie.

“no, it’s okay. you don’t want to hear about my problems because it’s such an inconvenience to you. i’m just going to sit here and mope, maybe cry, and go home.”

“don’t piss me off.” you tsk, picking a strand of string off your shirt. your eyes cut to him in a sideways glare, urging him to talk and quickly before you change your mind. “what’s wrong? what happened?”

hobie pokes his cheek with his tongue. he stares at the ceiling before slowly closing his eyes. “i dunno, man. it was so bad. they think i’m a disappointment or somethin’. it’s written all over their faces.”

“that’s not true. they probably were just overwhelmed that you came home.” you do your best to reassure him but even you know that’s probably a lie. hobie’s parents disapprove of him, everyone knows it. they’re embarrassed their only son turned out to be some sort of punk neanderthal and actively denounce him in public.

“don’t kid yourself, dove. my parents hate me and you know it. we all know it. i went over and they practically screamed it in my face. we had dinner for five seconds and got into a screamin’ match about how i let everyone down by runnin’ wild in the streets.” he’s squinting now. “when have i ever run wild in the streets?”

you can only shrug, unable to give him a response. you don’t know what to say to him. there is no denying what he experienced. all you can do is listen and shrug. “i’m sorry about that. you’re not a disappointment. they just can’t understand why they like it here so much and why you don’t. that can’t be easy to understand.”

“yeah well, i’ll get over it. i’ll just stay away from them and they can stay away from me and we can all pretend we aren’t related.” hobie doesn’t sound bitter, he sounds defeated. he sounds like he’s been down this road many times before and expected an outcome no different than before. however, it’s only natural for a child to wish for their parents to understand them. “anyway . . .,” his head lolls to the side until he’s looking at you, staring at you, “why are you avoiding’ me?”

your lips curl into themselves and you feel the need to excuse yourself. “i’m not avoiding you. if you’re done with your rant, i’m going to go to sleep now.” you go to rise to your feet but your attempt is short-lived when hobie catches you with his hands on your shoulders.

“yes, you are. look. you’re trying to do it right now. you’re tryin’ to leave because i’m confrontin’ you about it. i’m not going to stop pressin’ you about it until you tell me.”

one look in his eyes and you can tell he’s serious. hobie has caught you alone in the dead of night. he’s got you face-to-face and there is absolutely nothing you can do about it but lie or tell the truth, neither of which would work here.

“i’m not avoiding you, hobie. i just –,” you avert your gaze until you’re looking at literally anything else, “– i just think it’s best if we keep a distance and remain cordial. we don’t have to be friends because you're friends with quentin. you don’t have to feel like you have to be friends with me.”

“what?” the man lets you go. his arms drop back into his lap and he’s looking at you as if you’ve just proclaimed your undying love for present day denzel washington. “where is this coming from? you’ve always been a friend of mine. we grew up together. just because i’m closer to quentin doesn’t mean we aren’t close at all.”

you rack your brain to find a way around the real reason by cherry picking the words until they form a sentence that makes sense. “well, yes but i’m not like you. i don’t think there’s anything you – i just – we aren’t the same. we’re in very different crowds and i don’t want you to force yourself to get along with me.”

“okay, we’re in different crowds. what’s that supposed to mean? i’m friends with you because you are different from me. if i didn’t want to be around you or anyone who isn’t the exact same as me, i wouldn’t have come home. you’ve never been insecure about our friendship before so what’s going on?”

you’ve just about reached the end of the line. you’re frazzled and unable to keep pumping out excuses. he’s just going to disprove every single one and deny you a reason to run away. he doesn’t get it and he won’t get it. there’s only one option left to do. every ounce of your soul is screaming at you not to, already burning from the humiliation but as far as you’re concerned, you have no other option. “you don’t get it. jeez, hobie, you’re so stupid. obviously, i’m avoiding you because i have feelings for you and you don’t feel the same. i don’t want to be around you when i know you’re just going to go out and fuck every girl in town.”

your little spiel is followed by silence. while what weight was lifted off your chest, your hands are beginning to sweat from the anxiousness. still, you’ve already said it and you can’t back down so you sit firm in your decision. your eyes still begin to water from the overwhelming emotion that comes with speaking your mind like that and being met with absolutely nothing.

finally, hobie tilts his head. “fuck every girl in town? what are you talking about? is that what people are saying about me?”

you burst into tears, partly because you took that as rejection and partly because you think he doesn’t care. he just brushed off everything you said to talk about his sexual endeavors. “you’re so mean. you’re so mean and you hate me and you want me to die,” you blubber through a watery gargle. your hands are unable to keep up with the tears that stream down your face. by the time you brush one away, there’s another one that takes its place.

“oh my god.” hobie’s eyes widened in shock at your immediate reaction. it happened faster than he can blink and he’s terrified that someone is going to wake up, find you crying, and blame it all on him. “why are you crying?” he pulls you into an embrace, tucking your head beneath his chin and into his chest. despite what many would think, his skin is awfully warm to the touch and it would have been comforting if he didn’t stomp on your heart.

“because i just spilled my deepest, darkest secret to you and you don’t care. you’re bragging about how many times you got laid instead of having human emotions.” you only sob louder as he runs his fingers along your spine in what’s supposed to be a soothing manner.

“i’m not bragging about anything. i haven’t even fucked anyone since i’ve been here. where are you getting your information from?” hobie can’t decide whether or not he’s concerned or humored. he lifts your head, but only briefly, to wipe the tears on your cheeks. the moment he sees your lip tremble, he allows you to go back into the comfort of hiding against him.

“i don’t have to get my information from someone. i just know. you literally left me for magnolia and i know that you’ve been seeing some other girl. plus, quen was saying something about every girl and you when you walked in.” your words are muffled in his shirt. you feel a little guilty because of how wet it is but then you think about how hobie wronged you and wish you soaked it with your sobs.

“okay, first of all, i did not fuck magnolia. i’d have to bash my head with a brick to consider doing that. second of all, i’m not seeing anyone. i’m trying to get a temporary job while i’m still here and i have to suck up to the manager because she doesn’t like me. and why is it my fault that people like me? i can’t stop them from liking me and i can’t stop someone else from talking about it. you’ve misunderstood every single thing and now you’re yelling at me.”

you sniffle and tilt your head up. there is suspicion and doubt written all over your face. “so if you don’t like magnolia like that, then why were you looking at her like that? like you were thinking about taking her clothes off.”

hobie reels his head back, giving you a similar mystified expression. “girl, what are you talking about? if i was looking at her any sort of way it was probably because she was standing in front of the actual sun and I couldn't see. i wear contacts and i forgot to put them in. you know i wear contacts so now i’m confused.”

for a moment, you don’t say anything. you sit there and replay his explanations over and over again, searching for any holes in his story. you slowly run your tongue over your lip as the embarrassment slowly sets in. he’s right, he does wear contacts. he got them senior year of high school and you suppose you just forgot. you forgot and cried and went on him for no reason.

hobie watches you come to the realization. he can tell it’s dawning on you when your face relaxes and forms into one of mortification. this is where he decides it’s humorous to him. it’s even more hilarious when he adds the cherry on top. “and your deepest, darkest secret? i already knew. it’s not really a secret if everyone knows.”

that brings you an entire new wave of waterworks but instead, they build and build in your waterline until they eventually spill over in an occasional spill. “so you knew this whole time and let me embarrass myself? and you’re rejecting me?”

hobie reaches off and tears a paper towel square off the roll. he shakes his head, bending the square into a smaller one. he uses it to dab your cheek with a tut of his tongue. “you have to stop crying. i can’t talk to you when you’re refusing to listen to me. at least cry silently or ask questions that i can actually answer.”

“no,” you take the square from his fingers. really, you snatch it and use it to clean your dribbling nose. “i’m so mad at you. i don’t want to talk anymore.” you take this chance to get off the bar stool and move towards the trash can. you’re still sniffling and occasionally gasping for air while you clean yourself up. “you knew this entire time and didn’t say anything? i’d rather you turn me down from the beginning than give me this false sense of security. you led me on.”

“no. no, i didn’t.” hobie watches you rinse your face with water. hearing his denial just makes you angrier.

“yes you did. you knew and you said nothing.”

“no i did not. you didn’t even ask me –”

“i don’t have to ask you because i already know. you’re the worst person alive and you only care about yourself –”

“ ☆ , listen. you’ve been assuming things for weeks and look where that got you. just, stop talking and let me speak, please.” his firm tone knocks any thought out of your brain and gets you to tighten up, real quick.

you look over your shoulder, not yet ready to look at him but finally ready to accept that you just might be wrong. you lift the neckline of your shirt over your face and use it as a method to dry it.

“in order for me to have led you on, you’d have to actually confess your feelings to me. at what point do you think i should have just walked up to you and say ‘hey, i know you have feelings for me that you aren’t ready to talk about yet but i just wanted to let you know that i’m not interested’? why do you assume that i don’t feel anything towards you, anyway? maybe i do but i don’t say anything because i know it’s not going to work. let’s think about it, i rarely ever come into town. you love town. at what point would i ever come along and see you?”

“you would get your ass on your bike and drive here like you did this time,” you mumble under your breath. you stand by the sink for a moment to gather your thoughts. you’re gaining clarity through the fog but now you’re drained. you’re tired and you don’t have the energy to feel displeased over whatever he has to say. it doesn’t matter what he has to say because in the end, it’s all going to be a no. “but whatever you say. we don’t work, okay. you’re leaving soon, okay. if that’s all, i’d like to go to bed now.”

“are you mad at me?” he asks from behind you, softly. he almost purrs it and it tugs at your will. you want so badly to let him in but he doesn’t want that and so you must persevere.

you shake your head with a breath. “no. i’m not mad at you. you’re entitled to your own opinion.” you put on the blankest expression you can manage and turn to face him. you cross your arms over your chest and manage to maintain what little composure you have.

he quips a brow at you, obviously not believing your claim and even more so when you don’t say anything to confirm it. “come here for a second.”

you shift your weight until your weight is all on your right side and your hip is popped. “hobie . . .”

“just for a second,” he outstretched his hand as an offer for you.

reluctantly, you take it and give no resistance when hobie pulls you into his personal space. his hands find your cheeks and squish them together until your lips are forced into a pout. “be honest with me, baby. are you mad at me?”

he doesn’t act surprised when you pause before nodding in response. “are you still going to be mad at me if i kiss you?”

hobie watches the thought go through your mind. you consider it and the consequences that come with it. it’s going to be a meaningless kiss because hobie has drawn the line. he can’t be attached to anything from this town and you know that. still, it’s an incredible opportunity to just pass up because of morality.

you shake your head.

hobie’s lips are soft against yours. there’s a subtly sweet taste but it’s possible you’re high off oxytocin. again, you clench your hands into fists but this time it’s to restrain yourself from holding onto him and pulling him tighter. you have to keep reminding yourself that it’s a meaningless kiss.

it’s even harder to maintain that thought when hobie’s mouth fits so perfectly against yours. he doesn’t move his hands from your cheeks but the kiss grows heated, regardless. his tongue, wet and warm, runs over the expanse of your bottom lip before worming its way into your mouth.

you mewl when it finds yours and sucks. you have to tuck your hands behind your back to hold onto your composure. your feet betray you, though, by bringing you even closer into him and in turn, into his lips.

“are you done cryin’?” he kisses the corner of your mouth and jumps to the skin along your jawline. like before, he kisses and sucks the trail of skin from there to your neck. “because it wouldn’t be right if i just left you here.”

you squirm in your spot and do your best to conceal the whines that threaten to bubble up out of your throat. “hobie, you said – you –” you finally rested your hands on the tops of his thighs. the voice in the back of your head telling you to give in is getting more and more convincing with each passing second.

“what did i say?” he pauses his ministrations to catch his breath and give you a second to find yours. he isn’t sure how the conversation took this turn but he isn’t complaining. if anything, he’s hoping it’ll never end.

you stare at him in the yellow light from the stove. there’s still a chill in the air but you’re buzzed with need. suddenly, you’re hot. it’s sweltering even without the heat being on. you need to find a solution to your lust and quick. you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him back into you, deciding the solution right there in the moment.

your lips crash against each other with a burning passion. hobie stands up out of the bar stool, his hands circling around your waist. he takes steps forward and forces you back against the counter across from you. you don’t mind, entangling your hands within his scalp. you’re willing to let him do whatever he wants to you and it shows.

hobie turns you around and presses his hardening cock against the plumpness of your ass. you gasp at the feeling of him rutting against you with his breath fanning over your shoulder, warm and sticky. there’s something that takes over, a horny little monster that throws all your inhibitions out the window. you’re equally as turned on, rolling your hips back on his in tandem with him.

“fuck, okay. don’t get too loud.” he whispers under the sound of the fabrics moving together. out of he corner of your eye, you barely get a glimpse of him shoving his fingers in his mouth before sliding underneath your clothing. he pulls your shirt up in a balled up fist and watches his hand disappear beneath the waistband of your shorts and elastic of your panties.

they waste no time finding your clit, sticky and growing swollen from your insatiable desire. “already so fuckin’ wet.” he rubs the nub in little circles, growing accustomed to your body and what you like most. occasionally, his fingers slip and unintentionally fall too close to your entrance.

your mouth falls open in a tiny “o”. you throw your head back onto his shoulder, eyes squeezed shut and grinding against both his dick and his fingers. you’re sandwiched between pleasure and doing your best to keep your moans limited to a whisper. you grip the edge of the counter and you’re actually grateful for it. it’s the solace that’s keeping you grounded to reality because without it, you’re sure you would have soared to the sky. “d – don’t tease,” you pant. you reach behind you searching for hobie’s dick and you find it easily. it’s hard to miss with the hard feeling of it against your skin and you swear you feel it grow harder when you wrap your fingers around it, still clothed over his sweats.

“sorry, dove. whatever you want,” hobie flattens his palm against your pussy. his middle finger prod at your sticky entrance to test your reaction but it slips right in, much to your pleasure. he has to take it slow with your sensitivity but hobie savors every moment. he’s not in a rush, especially when your fingers squeeze and rub at his clothed cock. he’s ready to stick it in now if he truly wanted but hobie wants this moment to last. he wants to burn the memory into his head and stain his life with whatever effects you have on him.

“mmm,” you hum, spreading your legs farther to accommodate his size. just one of his fingers could make you feel so full that you’re nearly satisfied like this. you have to close your lips and run your tongue along the inside of your cheeks to wet them again. “that feels so good.”

“yeah?” hobie asks. he’s so focused on you, he doesn’t notice how you’ve also managed to get your hand under the waistband of his boxers. he only realized what’s happening when your hand brushes against the stubble of his pubes and wraps around his shaft. “oh baby,” he whines in your ear. you can feel his dick twitch and jump at the tightness of your palm. he nearly falls over your frame when your thumb begins to circle around his tip.

hobie’s fingers stutter inside you. they push farther, deeper, making contact with your g-spot accidentally. he hasn’t gotten a chance to stick another finger in before you’re whimpering and nearly finger fucking yourself with his hand. “oh my gosh, right there. right there, right there!”

if hobie could have laughed at you, he would have. however, he has better things to worry about. like how your voice is beginning to rise in volume and he just cannot have that happen. “shhh,” is all he can manage throughout his full-body shudders. he uses his other hand to drop your shirt and instead stick his fingers in your mouth. they serve the purpose he intended, muffling your noises. he didn’t anticipate for you to suckle on them as if it’s the last thing you’d ever have in your mouth.

that, paired with the handjob and your gushing pussy around his fingers, he could have came right then and there. he could have exploded in his pants and made you cum and end it there but he didn’t. instead, he forces himself to pay attention to you. he puts his pleasure on the back burner and pushes his finger deeper, even going as far as to stretch you farther by adding a second one.

with his fingers deep in your throat and drool pouring out the corner of your mouth, your legs begin to shake. your chest rises and falls with each heaved breath. if you weren’t forced into somewhat silence, you’re sure you would have been calling out hobie’s name, drunk of him and him alone.

he has no idea what words you’re gurgling but unless you’re chanting about how you’re on the verge of cumming, he doesn’t care. luckily for him, it’s almost certain that you were and it’s evident with how your body falls slack in his arms and your cunt spasms around his fingers. the sight is an ultimate turn on.

hobie pulls his fingers out of your mouth and wipes the saliva over your cheek. he takes the opportunity to yank your bottoms down until they’re confined to your ankles. you step out of them and turn around, reconnecting your lips with his.

once again, you’re kissing hobie as an act of hunger, pushing your lips so hard together that they nearly swell. you cup the back of his head to draw him in. you’re delighted to feel his hands on the globes on your cheeks and set you onto the counter. it’s cold on your skin and so you flinch but it becomes a faint thought when hobie’s hands are anchored on the backs of your thighs. he pushes them back until your feet are flat on the counter and your glistening pussy is all on display, still creamy from your recent orgasm.

“just gotta get a taste,” he mumbles, mostly to himself as he eyes the shining cunt open and throbbing for him. he wastes no time wrapping his lips around your puffy clit, slurping at your slick. he enjoys the sapidity that’s unique to you, tangy and a bit sweet, like a refreshing dessert he could eat for the rest of his life.

he can feel the juices drip down his chin and coat the lower half of his face but that doesn’t stop him from eating your pussy like a starved man. you have to bring a hand up to your mouth to muffle the moans, watching the hobie lick between your folds and lap at your clit. your eyes are ready to roll back when hobie’s tongue pokes at your entrance. you want so badly to scream, to pull hobie’s head even closer to your aching pussy but you can’t. you can’t risk moving your hand off your mouth, knowing that the moment you do, you’ll wake up the whole house.

you compromise by using your other hand to support your weight and shift toward, putting yourself a little more onto your toes. in this new position, you’re able to move your cunt along his face. you push farther, going as far as to brush your clit along hobie’s nose.

his response is to tug your body to the edge of the counter and wrap your legs over his shoulders. your lower body is solely held up by him, his shoulder, and his hands. he swallows every ounce of your slick and sears your clit with a kiss.

it doesn’t take long before you’re finding yourself closer to the edge of a second orgasm. you ball your shirt up and shove the jumbled mess into your own mouth. your brain is foggy. you can’t think of a single thought that isn’t full of hobie, the pleasure, and the need to cum, immediately.

“mmmf,” you wrap your legs around his neck. dig your fingers into his hair, and tug just in time for another gush of cum to come flowing out of your pussy. every muscle in your body has relaxed and become putty by now. you’re at hobie’s disposal and you love that.

“you’re so perfect, i’m devastated.” he kisses your inner thigh, continuing to trail those kisses up your stomach, between your tits, and onto your lips. he doesn’t wipe the cum off his face as he does it. instead, he makes you taste it, wrapping his tongue around yours and wetting your cheeks with the stickiness as your arousal as he does it.

“no you’re not. you won’t stay for me.” you whisper between kisses, running your hands along his bare chest under his shirt. you grab the hem and pull it up until hobie inevitably allows you to pull it off. it’s discarded and tossed onto the floor.

“i won’t stay for anyone. you know this.” he disconnects from the kiss, but only for a moment. during this time, he drops his pants to pull out his cock, raging from watching you cum not once, but twice. in the darkness, you can make out an outline of it, long and skinny with a mushroom tip and bulging veins. he’s been straining this whole time but hadn’t complained at all, loving every second of pleasing you. he could do it for hours if he had the time.

you resort to pouting as hobie sets your feet back onto the ground. with his hands on his hips, he turns you back around until your back is pressed against his chest, once again. “just say you hate me.”

“keep saying that and i’ll shove my dick in your mouth.” he says, aligning his tip with his sticky entrance. you don’t mention how his threat holds no weight if you’d enjoy it. instead, you play into it and huff, resting your hands flat on the counter.

you brace yourself when hobie begins to push deep into you. the stretch is painful at first, enough that you have to grit your teeth and will yourself to relax through the shallow thrusts to ease his way into you. it only takes a few seconds before the pain is blooming into satisfaction.

he fits so well inside you, filling you as if he was created solely for this purpose. you reach up, resting your hand on his cheek for a source of intimacy in the slow thrusts. you use the leverage of the counter to push your ass back to meet his thrusts.

you don’t know how much willpower you have to continue standing on your own when hobie is doing such a good job of fucking you dumb. even with the slow pace, you have to give in, leaning over the counter. to hobie, this is leverage for him to take control of the situation. he slots a large hand over your mouth and the other rests on the small of your back.

almost instantly, his thrusts increase tenfold. you’re certain if this was done on a bed, it would have been rocking with such an intensity against the wall. you grasp his hand covering your mouth with yours, almost screaming into his hand.

“shh, you’ll w – wake someone u – up.” he leans over you. hobie doesn’t compensate for the sound of skin slapping against each other by speaking louder. instead, he gets closer to you and because of that, angles his dick deeper into your cunt.

in this new state, you can hear every soft moan and whimper that leaves his mouth. he’s not rough about it, almost singing in your ear. his breath feels moist on your skin and adds to the fire burning in your core. “just t – take it, baby.”

you almost sob, rising onto your toes and writhe underneath him. it didn’t occur to you that you’d be overstimulated by the time you’ve reached this point. as much of your fault as it is, you like to blame most of it on hobie for pushing it this far. you wouldn’t be tempted to push him away, feeling as though he would be forcing another one out of you, if he didn’t.

you’re still, almost stuck in place. he’s too good at delivering. your body craves more and less of him at the same time. you’re certain you can feel him in your throat, ready to pop out the other side and through your mouth if this continues long enough. it’s driving you crazy, so crazy you squeeze your legs together.

it doesn’t last long because coincidentally, hobie hooks his hand under your leg and pushes it onto the counter. your cunt squelches as it swallows his size greedily. he’s obsessed with watching his length disappear inside you and the white sheen that surrounds the base. “shit, you’re gettin’ tight. gonna make me cum.”

you can only wail at his words and press your forehead against the granite. your legs have begun to quiver for the second time that night and you’re almost certain your insides are about to explode. you’re unsure what is building up inside you but it’s drawing from somewhere deep in the pits of your stomach and you’re getting nervous. there’s not much you can do about it, nor can you think about it too much because hobie’s fingers are rolling your clit between them.

the bud is all swollen and practically hot to the touch. you’re dripping down your own thighs at this point. there’s a musk that accompanies sex in the air, thick and sending you into a daze. your eyes flutter closed before they roll back. you let loose, weak streams of squirt falling into the floor beneath you.

“holy fuckin’ shit,” hobie pulls out of you so fast, you whine and crumple onto the floor. he, as the kind gentleman he is, don’t force your weak body to move positions again. instead, he steps to your side and turns your head with a hand under your chin. “open your mouth for me. atta’ girl.”

you watch him through half lidded eyes jerk his swollen cock in front of your face until he’s spurting cum all over it. your tongue dangles open and catches what remnants dribble downwards into your mouth.

hobie’s equally sensitive body stands there for a moment to catch his breath. he slowly lowers himself onto the ground until he’s able to run his thumb over your cum-covered face to collect some of it on the pad of his finger and swipe it over your tongue. “how do you feel? want water or something?”

you wordlessly shake your head and crawl into his arms, despite the fact that your face is ultimately covered in his nut. you don’t mention that what you really want to know is what happens now. “just want to shower and sleep.”

he looks at you, half asleep against him, and then around the kitchen and the few pieces of evidence left behind. for one, the scent has got to go. “i’ll get you into the bath and i’ll handle the cleanup, okay? you just rest your pretty little head.”

you’ve already beat him to it, humming in response and envisioning the comfort of your queen sized bed. if you considered things awkward before, just what until you see how you try to navigate it in the morning.

#ੈ✩‧₊˚ 𝔀𝓻𝓲𝓽𝓮 𝓪𝔀𝓪𝔂 #hobie x black!reader #hobie smut #hobie brown #x black fem reader #astv hobie #x black reader #x reader #hobie x reader #hobie x y/n

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f1goat · 6 months

Text

his teammate + lando norris x part six

In which you find yourself getting closer to your brothers new teammate who's a dick.

lando norris x fem!verstappen (sister) + cursewords + eventually smutty i wrote this before, but i'm rewriting it because i missed somethings. you can comment if you want to be added to a taglist :) thanks for reading!

masterlist x playlist

This is awkward. Max his attention is all over his girlfriend Kelly. You are making polite conversations with team members of RedBull who are already drunk. The music is in a language you don’t understand, so you can’t really sing along. And maybe it’s the most awkward thing that you’re consistently searching for Lando. He was coming as well, right? Max told you so earlier tonight. You’re starting to regret that you came with Max to the club.

With a small sigh you take a few sips from your cocktail. To be fair, it’s way too strong for you. You almost don’t taste the fruity tones or the normally sweet taste from all the syrups. It’s only alcohol. Maybe you can use a few of these cocktails. Then you should be on the same level as everyone else here and maybe then you have a bit more fun.

Maybe it will also give you enough courage to talk to Lando when you finally see him.

You’re still mad at him, but you also feel kinda sad for him. That girl wasn��t exactly nice to him, but on the other hand she was there. You wonder what would have happened between Lando and you if she wasn’t there. There was clearly something going on. You have no idea what exactly, but it didn’t feel wrong. That can’t be good.

“Hi princess.”

You didn’t even notice that Lando has shown up next to you. Where did he come from? You take a good look at him. As always, he looks good. The black blouse he’s wearing is new for you and you can already say that you really like it on him. You don’t reply to him at first. Now that you’re seeing him again, you realize that you feel actually a bit hurt. You’re still mad because of Maisie who was in his drivers room. Even when you know you don’t have the right to be so.

You don’t know if Lando notices your cold behavior. When he asks you some questions, you reply sarcastic or with short answers. You wonder if he deserves this behavior from you, but every time he says something you still think about the Maisie girl. You can’t stop feeling annoyed and mad because of it.

“Sooo,” Lando says at one point, “I wanted to introduce you to my friend but I have a feeling that we need to talk first.”

He surprises you with his words. He wants to introduce you to a friend of his? Your almost ready to forget about the grudge you’re holding. Something inside you flutters by the thought that Lando wants you to meet a friend of his. Fuck. This is bad.

“You’re mad at me,” Lando states.

“Why would I be mad?” You ask him back. You wonder if he would even understands your reason. Maybe he’s just waiting for you to throw out everything so he can simply apologize or say he doesn’t care. Now that you think about it, you wonder how Lando acts when someone is mad at him. Does he even know how to apologize?

“Because you think I lied to you,” Lando answers truthfully, “but I swear princess, I didn’t know Maisie would be in my drivers room. I did not invite her.”

“Why would I care about that?” You ask. When the words leave your mouth, you start to feel ashamed. Lando is actually trying to fix things and seems to understand you, but now you’re acting like this.

“There was something happening between us and Maisie interrupted it,” Lando replies.

“What do you mean?”

“Come on Y/N, don’t tell me you didn’t feel it. I don’t know what was happening, but there was something going on between us,” Lando tells you, “You felt it, right?”

“I didn’t feel anything,” you continue to lie. You can’t confess to Lando that something is going on between the two of you. How will your brother respond to something like that? You’re going to ruin his bond with Lando when you try to date Lando.

“Don’t lie please,” Lando says with a soft voice. You can barely hear him with the loud music around you. His eyes are almost pleading you to tell him the truth, but you can’t. You will ruin everything if you tell him that you felt it too. Your heart almost breaks when you look at Lando, but you still continue to lie to him.

“I’m not lying to you,” you state.

Lando sighs. What if you’re not lying to him? He tries to shake off the sudden disappointed feeling that waves over him. That would be something. He is finally willing to change for a girl because he kinda fell for her and then she doesn’t return his feelings. Lando is almost laughing at himself.

“Look me in the eyes and tell me there’s nothing going on between us,” Lando asks you.

“That’s unnecessary,” you tell Lando. You mainly say so because you don’t trust yourself enough to do it. What if your body plays tricks with you and you accidentally tell Lando you feel something going on between you two. How will he react? He will probably laugh at you, you think.

“It’s not, tell me there’s nothing going on and I’m gone,” Lando replies.

You look Lando in his eyes. Even his eyes are beautiful. Isn’t there anything you don’t like about his appearance? You repeat his words in your head a few times. You can do this. You only have to tell him that there’s nothing going on between the two of you. There’s nothing going on between us. There’s nothing going on between us. You repeat the sentence in your mind a few times.

“There’s nothing going on between us,” you say out loud to Lando while you keep looking at him. Fuck that was harder then you thought it was. You notice the look in Lando his eyes. It almost seems like he is disappointed. You must be making this up, right?

Lando mutters a simple okay and turns around. Before you realize it, he’s walking away from you. Fuck! What do you need to do now? You feel yourself getting kind of panicked. Your eyes don’t leave Lando his body. He’s walking towards the exit of the club.

You stop thinking about your actions and movements. You can’t let Lando walk away like this. Without giving it any second thought, you run through the club to get outside as well. When you’re almost at the exit, you feel how a hand grabs your arm. Please don’t be your brother, you beg softly. You don’t know how to explain to Max what it is you’re going to do. You don’t even know for yourself what your plan is.

“You must be Y/N,” a boy greets you, “I’m Max.”

Is this Lando his friend? The one he wanted to introduce you to before you fucked up everything? It must be. You mutter a simple hi to the boy.

“What did you say to Lando?” Max asks you, “He told me he was going to get some air, but he didn’t look good.”

“Uh I, I uh,” you stutter, do you really need to tell Lando his friend about your stupid mistake? Max keeps looking at you for a full response. You sigh. “I told him there was nothing going on between us,” you then let out. You feel annoyed at yourself.

“But that’s okay, right? If you don’t feel anything for him it’s better to be honest,” Max tries to comfort you. He notices your confusing state.

“I lied.”

“You lied?” Max asks you confused.

“I lied to him. There’s something going on between us,” you tell him. Why are you even telling this to Lando his best friend? This must be another stupid plan of yours. Apparently that’s the only thing you’re good at today. Acting stupid.

“Fuck,” Max sighs, “You need to tell him.”

“I know,” you sign, “but what will happen then? I don’t know how Lando thinks about me. Even if there’s something going on I don’t know what to do with it.”

“Give him a chance,” Max tells you eventually, “He’s trying his best to deserve it.”

You don’t know what Max means with those words. But you do know that you don’t have a lot of time to lose anymore. Lando can be anywhere right now. You tell Max that you really need to go, without waiting for his response you move towards the exit of the club again. This time you get out without interruptions.

The cold night air hits you at instant. Fuck. Why didn’t you bring your jacket with you? You look around you, but you can’t spot Lando yet. What if he got his car or a taxi and went back to the hotel? Hopeless you walk around for a bit.

Eventually you give up. Lando doesn’t seem to be around here somewhere. You sit down on a bench next to the street. You grab your phone out of your purse. Without giving it a second thought you call Lando. He doesn’t pick up. You call him again. You get voicemail again. Fuck. You open your messages and send some to Lando.

Y/N: where are you?

Y/N: we need to talk

Lando doesn’t respond as fast as you want him to. You get up from the bench and decide to walk around a bit more. Did Lando actually leave this fast? You shiver from the coldness around you. You miss your jacket. Tiredly and cold you walk around.

At one point you notice some sort of park. You decide to sit there for a bit. You find a new bench to sit on. When you sit down for a few minutes you realize that this is not a smart plan. You’re all by yourself in a short dress in a park you don’t know. Fuck. When those realizations hit you, you’re quick to stand up. You need to get back to the club.

“Fuck Y/N is that you?”

You turn around surprised. Is your mind playing tricks on you or did you actually hear Lando? You smile when you notice that Lando is walking towards you with a fast pace.

“Y/N, what are you doing here? Where’s your brother?” Lando asks you concerned.

Before answering you shiver once again from the cold night air. “I was searching for you,” you tell Lando.

“You can’t just walk around all alone!” Lando is quick to react loudly, “What if there was someone else here with other intentions? Fuck princess, you need to think about those things.”

“But you walked away,” you react.

“I needed some time,” Lando confesses, “I’m not that great with rejection.”

“Rejection?” You ask.

“You told me there was nothing going on between us,” Lando reminds you or your own words, “You rejected me. And that’s fine, but I needed some time for myself to let it sink in.”

Fuck. This is the Lando about who you’re doubting all the time? You have rejected your fair share of boys earlier in your life and not one of them reacted like Lando does right now. How can it be that you’re always worried about Lando and his behavior, while he’s the first one who respects your decision without even asking questions. You feel like a total bitch for lying to him.

“Lan,” you sigh, “I uh, I lied. I don’t want to reject you.”

“Sorry?” Lando asks confused.

You don’t respond directly. To be fair, you don’t know what to say.

“Please don’t give me hope,” Lando tells you softly, “Let me bring your back to your brother. We will talk about it later.”

Lando puts his arm around your shoulders and walks with you back towards the club. You can’t shake off the feeling of his arm around you. This feels good. You still need to say something to him before you’re back at the club with Max. When you’re almost standing in front of the club, you stop walking. Lando is quick to follow your movements.

“What is it princess?” He asks you confused.

“I uh,” you stutter. How can it be this hard to confess to Lando?

Lando waits for you to say something, but you can’t find the right words. Eventually Lando interrupts your stutters, “Let’s get you inside, it’s too cold for you,” he says.

“There’s not nothing going on between us!” You blurt out. “Fuck,” you quickly add, “I uh, I mean there’s something going on between us. I lied. Sorry.”

Lando keeps staring at you. He doesn’t know what to say right now. You just confessed you lied to him. Does that mean that you do have some feelings for him? You have said it yourself now, there’s something going on.

“But why did you lie?” He eventually asks you.

“Fuck,” you sigh, you feel annoyed at yourself for fucking things up like this. “I uhm, I don’t know what’s happening between us and it makes me nervous,” you confess, “I mean my brother will probably get mad at us and uh you are, you are you.. Fuck that didn’t come out right. I like you for you, but I don’t like the attitude you have sometimes or all those random girls you know?” You realize that you’re rambling, but Lando doesn’t stop you.

“I don’t know what will happen now,” you continue to ramble, “but I do believe it’s nothing smart. This can only get messy.”

“I get it,” Lando sighs, “Let me get you back inside.”

“Stop trying to get me inside,” you tell Lando annoyed, “We’re still talking.”

“But you’re cold,” Lando states.

“Who cares,” you reply.

“I care!”

“Then you find some other solution then getting me back inside,” you mutter.

Lando pulls you closer to himself. For the second time today you find yourself hugging him. It’s still feeling annoyingly good. Just like everything with Lando does. The fact that he just told you that he cares about you getting cold? That’s enough for you to warm up inside once again.

“Y/N, I want to tell you something,” Lando says eventually, “I know I’m no prince charming, but you need to know that I’m really trying to change. I haven’t fucked with anyone since weeks and I really try to better myself..”

Lando wants to continue speaking. He has more to say. He tries to think about how he can bring it. He wants you to know that he’s trying to change for you. You look at him. Lando opens his mouth again to continue to talk. It’s you who changes his plans this time. His little speech has done things to you. You can’t deny it anymore towards yourself. There’s no one you want more.

“Lan,” you softly say. Lando looks up to you.

“Please keep calling me that,” he asks you pleadingly.

“Lan?” You ask.

“Yes babygirl.”

“Do you think there’s something going on between us?” You ask him.

“Yes.” Lando doesn’t even needs to think about his answer.

Without giving it a second thought, you press your lips on Lando’s. He’s quick to react to your sudden movements. He wraps his arms around you again, but more importantly he kisses you back. He lifts you up for a tiny bit, holding you as close to himself as he can manage. Slowly he slides his tongue inside your mouth, you’re quick to respond to his movements.

It’s this moment that you realize that you don’t want anything else ever again. You have never felt like this while kissing someone. It’s crazy what Lando does to you. He’s already ruining you without even knowing it.

Who cares what everyone says? You want Lando.

taglist ; @whore8io & @chonkybonky & @love4lando & @eviethetheatrefreak

part seven

#lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris x y/n #lando norris fanfiction #lando norris imagine #ln4 #formula one #f1 #lando norris imagines #fem!verstappen

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forays-into-fiction · 1 year

Text

I Want You So Bad I Can’t Breathe

You met Eddie when you first moved to Hawkins, Indiana it was an especially difficult time for you and Eddie was the one to stand by you, becoming fast friends. But then he was moving on to middle school and leaving you behind only to forget about you. You admire him from afar until Hellfire Club where you finally reconnect.

Request fill for @harringtonfan4 hope you like it, sorry if I went too hard on the negative self-image/insecurity stuff 😅

Minors DNI

Contains: Dom!Eddie/Sub!Reader, Slight Perv!Eddie Virgin!Reader, PlusSize!Reader, Insecure!Eddie, Insecure!Reader, Loss of Virginity, Angst, Major Internalised Fatphobia/Fatphobia, Bullying, Daddy Kink, Spitting, Dirty Talk, Fingering, Praise Kink, Innocence/Virginity Kink, Unprotected Sex, Drug Use (Weed)

Fat. It was a word you’d heard more than half your life by now at eighteen. The first time someone called you fat you were seven, she was supposed to be your friend… your best friend, but her snide little, ‘Why are you so fat? It’s so gross!’ stuck with you.

Looking back now you know you weren’t fat… you know it every time you look back, but you can never see it in the moment. And you weren’t fat you were just an average sized little girl with chubby little cheeks.

No matter how far back it’s always been ‘oh I used to think I was so fat back then, what I would give to go back to that size. But now, now I really am fat’

Over the years this mindset had really impacted your life, you used to be more outgoing, you used to love to sing and dance, you used to live without constantly thinking about how everyone else saw you. Because no one wants to see the fat girl having fun, enjoying life right… better to hide away.

You had tried to lose weight, so many times… and you did, but every time you’d lose weight as soon as you’d hit a plateau your weight would sit there for a bit before slowly creeping back up and up and up. At least until you weighed even more than when you’d started.

It wasn’t just your friend that had made comments about your weight, she was the first but she certainly wasn’t the last. You’d also had a bully around the same time, she had consistently tormented you every day.

Day after day she’d drag you away from your friends, pulling you into a secluded corner to harass you verbally, physically, mentally… until one day you finally told someone.

Your mum went off on that other girl, threatened her so badly every time you saw her since then she’d cross the road to avoid you… but the damage had been done.

You didn’t have to deal with the aftermath for too long, shortly after your parents had decided to move to Hawkins, Indiana to be closer to your grandparents.

Your little brother was almost four now and they were going to need help taking care of the two of you, both of them working long hours and odd shifts just to get by. Also needed a bigger house to accommodate the needs of your growing family.

You were eight when you first met him, he was ten both of you still in elementary school. You were new in town, that in itself already made you an oddity to say the least.

Some kids had been picking on you, calling you names, pushing you around, you were on the verge of tears when he stepped in. He’d scared them off pretty easily, being both older and taller, buzzed head giving him a ‘tougher’ look.

Once they had left, he turned to you, placing a hand on your shoulder looking into your eyes like you were the only thing that mattered in the world, “Hey, don’t pay attention to shitheads like that, ok? I’m Eddie.”

“Y/n…” You reply shakily.

“Y/n,” He repeats, “that is a very pretty name. Nice to meet you y/n.”

“N-nice to meet you t-too.”

“Wanna have lunch with me?”

“Yeah…”

You’d spent the rest of that school year by his side he’d introduced you to this game he played, Dungeons and Dragons. He’d jokingly criticised your taste in music, telling you he’d show you some real music.

You pout and protest that just because he doesn’t like your music doesn’t mean it’s not real music, but begrudgingly you listen to his stuff and find you actually like it… not that you’d admit it to him, you’d never give him the satisfaction.

If you were honest with yourself, you’d been smitten with him since that day, but you buried those thoughts and feelings deep down, tried to ignore it.

But then all too quickly he’s moving on to middle school, the two of you promise to stay in touch but you don’t. You don’t want to push it either, he’s probably moved on to something better… someone better.

In his absence you became closer with one Nancy Wheeler. Your brother and hers were in the same playgroup and your families had become closer as a whole. Both you and her were the same age, you’d bonded over the little things and she was a good friend to you.

It’s not until another two years later that you see him again, you’re starting middle school and he’s in his final year there. His hair is a bit longer now, no longer completely buzzed, still cropped short but growing out.

You admire him from afar, he wouldn’t remember you… why would he remember you? You couldn’t risk embarrassing yourself by approaching him now.

Your brother and his friends have discovered Dungeons and Dragons, the game has changed a bit since you first played but you sit in with them for a few sessions, Nancy also joins on occasion.

You DM until Will asks to take over one session, then they all take turns at being DM, each running their own campaign with your guidance. As Nancy starts to lose interest in the game, you feel you should stick with her rather than intrude on your brother’s group.

And time slips by the year is over, he’s moving on to high school, leaving you behind once more.

By the time you see him again you’re both in high school, his hair is longer still, becoming a bushy mane around his head, he’s really embracing the ‘metal’ look from what you can see and it suits him you think.

You hear he’s started a D&D group here at the school, Hellfire Club it was called. You were tempted to join, you had really missed him all these years, you doubt he would have even spared you a second thought… who would? Why would he care about that fat, little weird kid who followed him around for a year?

You ask Nancy what she thinks, “I kinda know the guy that runs it, we were friends for a little while. It was before you and I really started hanging out properly, but I don’t think he remembers me. What do you think, should I join? Would you join with me?”

“I think if you want to join you should, and it seems like you do… but I don’t know about joining myself, I kind of outgrew that phase. I’m thinking of signing up for the school paper though.”

“Oh, yeah that’s great you definitely should!”

“So, what about you? You going to join that club?”

“Ummm… yeah, maybe… I do want to, but I’m a little nervous.”

“I thought you said the guy that runs it is a friend, just talk to him.”

“Yeah, but we haven’t talked in years, I’m sure he doesn’t remember me.”

“It’ll be fine if you are worried about talking to him directly, I’m sure they’d have some sort of sign-up sheet, just go put your name down.” She shrugs.

“Yeah. Yeah, ok that doesn’t sound too bad.”

And they do have a sign-up sheet, it’s hung just outside the drama room, but you can’t see a pen anywhere. You rummage around in your bag for your pencil case, but then he appears beside you and you jump.

He holds a pen out towards you with one hand, the other on which he’d drawn a silly, little face comes up and he makes it ‘talk’ with a funny voice, “Need a pen?”

“Ahhh… yeah, thanks…?” You take the offered pen awkwardly.

His silly face hand drops, internally he’s facepalming, ‘why the fuck did you do that?’ he thinks pressing on despite this, “Eddie. My name is Eddie.”

You shift self-consciously avoiding looking him in the eye, “Yeah, I uhh… I remember you, Eddie. You probably don’t remember me-”

A broad grin spreads across his face, “Are you kidding, of course I remember you, princess. Sorry if I scared you earlier, by the way. So, you’re signing up for Hellfire, huh?”

You shrug, “Yeah, if you’ll have me, I guess.”

“It’ll be just like the good old days. You still been playing?”

“Umm… not so much lately, but you remember my little brother?”

He nods, you continue, “He and his friends are really into it now. When they first started I DM’ed for them, at least until they got the hang of it.”

“Awww, princess DM’ing… I woulda loved to see that.”

“I mean you still could… if I’m joining Hellfire…”

“Oh, no… no I am the Dungeon Master there, princess no one else. And I run a brutal campaign… you better prepare yourself. I’m not about to go easy on you, just cause it’s you.”

“We’ll see about that won’t we Munson, I can take brutal, you know.”

He just about chokes on his words at that, but manages to contain himself… barely, “Uhh huh sure you can, princess.”

The next couple of years after that the two of you reconnect, it was like you’d never been apart, but again he’s coming up on his final year, about to leave you behind yet again. And then… he doesn’t, he doesn’t graduate, he fails his senior year.

You’re torn on the one hand it means you get another year with him, another year before he disappears again. On the other hand, you hated seeing him fail, you knew how shitty high school was for him, constantly being mocked and teased. You hadn’t had it any better either, but having him there helped and now you’d have him for another year.

But now, now you’re eighteen, he’s twenty and he’s failed again. So, you get to share all your classes with him, you feel guilty about how happy you are to still have him with you.

Your little brother and his friends are just starting high school and Eddie takes them under his wing, inviting them to join you at your table. You would have done so yourself, but he’d beaten you to it and it reminded you of the day you met him, the way he stood up for you, the way he still stood up for you.

Your feelings have resurfaced… or maybe they’d always been there, just bubbling away in the hidden recesses of your mind. You hated yourself for it, it wasn’t for you to have a crush… nothing could possibly come of it, you’d seen the way he’d looked at other girls, prettier girls, skinnier girls… he’d never want you, why bother? And every day you dig yourself deeper into this hole, torturing yourself.

He’s driving you to school one day when you find yourself humming along to one of the songs on his radio and he is very quick to call you out on it. “Hey, I thought you didn’t like my, quote ‘shitty metal’?”

You give him a shove, “Fuck off, you know I don’t.”

“Oh, yeah then why are you fucking humming Metallica hmmm?” He grins smugly.

“I dunno, I guess it grows on you… like a wart… or a skin lesion… or you.”

“Hey, you take that back!”

You giggle, “Never.”

“Oh, really is that how it is?” He glances over at you briefly, taking one hand from the steering wheel he begins poking at you “Take. It. Back.”

You squirm away from his prodding fingers, but then instead of getting your arm or your shoulder he misses and makes contact with the swell of your belly and you freeze.

He knows he’s done something wrong, when he glances over again, the way your giggles die on your lips, the way you won’t look at him.

“What’s wrong princess?” He asks seriously.

“Nothing. Nothing, just drive.” Your voice sounds almost empty, but he doesn’t push any further.

Nancy knows, even if you won’t admit it at first, but she knows about your not so little crush. When you finally do admit it, she encourages you to do something about it, but you can’t… you couldn’t, could you? What if it ruined everything between the two of you… after all why would he ever look at you like that…

It does no good to dwell on these thoughts, but they come up, every time you’re in his van, every time he looks at you with that glint in his eye, every time you’re sat in his bedroom… on his bed, smoking and laughing and forgetting who you are for just a split second. It gives you hope, but then it all comes crashing down around you.

When he shows you how to roll your first joint, you can’t take your eyes off of him. You don’t hear a word he’s saying, it washes over you without comprehension. He sits facing you from the foot of your bed, you sit cross-legged facing him, leaning in slightly.

You watch his nimble fingers working away, the way his tongue darts out to wet the paper, his eyes never leaving yours, making sure you pay attention. It makes you feel hot all over, squirming as he’s twisting off the end giving you a little grin, proudly showing it off, “… and that is how it’s done.”

“Uhh cool, thanks.” You move to pluck it from his fingertips but he snatches it away.

“Ah, ah, ah don’t you know the rules… roller’s rights?”

You look at him in confusion, he explains, “The roller always takes the first hit.”

“Oh, ok.” You mumble and settle back down into the pillows. He lights up the end then takes a few puffs before passing it over to you, you take a deep drag and choke almost immediately. He laughs before smacking you on the back, before rubbing in soothing circles “Hey, take it easy… just breathe.”

He reaches across you to the water sitting on your bedside table, “Here take a sip, it’ll help.”

You take a few sips of water and steady your breathing before he continues, his hand still on your back, “When you take a hit it’s just a few little breaths in, slowly, lightly. Don’t try to take too much at once, it’s not the same as smoking a cigarette, ok?”

“Yep, uhh huh.” You croak out.

“And hold the smoke in your mouth first, then breathe in from here…” he rubs a hand over his belly, up high by his diaphragm.

“You wanna try again?”

You nod humming in response and he nods back for you to go ahead.

You follow his advice and it goes better, you try again and it’s even easier.

“Alright, now pass it back.” He holds out a hand and you hand it over to him.

“There, now give it a few minutes before you try again, it’s your first time don’t wanna go too hard, too fast.” He takes another puff.

You giggle, teasing, “But what if I want hard and fast?”

And then he’s choking, spluttering, coughing up smoke.

“Jesus H Christ… princess you can’t say shit like that, someone might take it the wrong way one day.” He gasps out.

You roll your eyes, “Eddie, come on no one is thinking of me like that, get real.”

He hesitates a moment, “What if… what if I told you I thought of you like that?”

“Haha, very funny…” you reply sarcastically, but he’s not laughing, “… wait a minute you’re serious?”

“Yeah, you got no fucking idea…”

“Are you sure that isn’t just the weed talking, I mean I heard it can make people-”

He cuts you off with a fierce kiss, pushing his lips to yours forcefully, nipping at your bottom lip gently, the joint burning down steadily in his limp grip. When he breaks away, he looks at you with lust clouded eyes, “Oh, I’m real fucking sure, princess. I have been crushing on you since God only knows when.”

You look up at him through your lashes, bashfully, “Ummm I’ve been crushing on you pretty much since the day we met.” You confess.

“Shit… can I fucking kiss you again?” He breathes out.

“Yeah… umm, maybe just get rid of that first.” You nod down to his fingers.

“Oh, right… yeah.” He mumbles reaching for his black metal lunchbox, snubbing out the joint on the lid and tossing it inside.

He looks back over at you, leaning in slowly, you don’t know why, but you’re blurting out, “imavirgin…” the words meld together in your embarrassment.

“What was that? Didn’t quite get that...”

You take a deep steadying breath, making sure to enunciate clearly this time, you repeat, “I’m a virgin.”

He lets out a guttural groan, “Fuck, princess is that true? No one… no one’s ever touched you before?”

“Umm no never… never been kissed before either…” You admit shyly.

“That’s quite a few firsts tonight, isn’t it? Do you wanna tackle a few more?”

You nod, pouting at him, “Please Eddie, kiss me again?”

“How could I refuse?”

He swoops in capturing your lips between his own once more, you feel his tongue probing for entrance you let out a needy whine and it’s slipping in alongside your own.

You tangle your hands into his hair you gasp as he lifts you into his lap, you pull away, “Wh-what’re you doing, don’t I’m heavy…”

“Oh no, you are just perfect, you sit right there, right on top of my cock.” He emphasises this with a roll of his hips and the hard bulge of his dick grinds into your heated core. You whine again at the sensation, feeling a wetness pool between your thighs.

He pulls you back in for another kiss, sloppier than the previous and you grind back against him with a moan.

“Did you mean it?” He gasps into your mouth.

“Huh?”

“When you said you want it ‘hard and fast’… or was that just a joke?”

“I dunno… it wasn’t entirely a joke…”

“You think you can handle it hard and fast, do you think you’ll still like me after, if I’m rough?” He growls.

“Please Eddie, I want you. I want you so bad I can’t breathe.” You gasp.

“Ok, but we’re gonna start off slow alright? Then we can ramp it up to hard and fast.” He chuckles darkly.

As he resumes kissing you his hands move to lift your shirt and you pull away suddenly.

“You ok, sweetheart? You change your mind?” Concern laces his voice.

“No… no it’s not that… just, could we maybe turn the lights off…?”

It’s like a switch flips in his head, “Oh no, no sweetheart I wanna see all of you… every gorgeous bit. The things I would do to you…”

He groans his hands dropping to your plump legs that straddle his own, squeezing them softly, urging you to move against him more firmly, “Wanna bury my face between these thighs… so fucking gorgeous… wanna do so much with ‘em, bite ‘em, suck em, kiss ‘em… push your legs together and fuck them.”

He drops one hand to cup your ass, kneading the soft flesh, he growls, “Oh and if you let me take you from behind, I could watch your ass jiggle as I pound into you, maybe slap it a bit if you’d let me… would you like that princess? Want me to slap that fucking glorious ass of yours? You have no idea how many times I’ve been distracted by just that… thinking about bending you over and just taking you…” You’re panting desperately at his touch, barely done anything and he’s already got you absolutely wrecked.

He moves his hand up to your chest, groping your breasts he lets out a guttural moan as you whine pitifully, “And these tits, don’t even get me started on those… absolutely perfect… shove my face into them too, suck on your nipples, pinch ‘em ‘til you fucking scream… oh god, I’d love it if you held your tits together… let me fuck em ‘til I cum all over your pretty face, watch it drip down your chin…” his filthy mouth has you soaking your panties, grinding down into him.

You barely register that he’s popped the button on your jeans sliding them down slowly until he flips you over onto your back and you gasp, you never knew he was so strong, the way he was manhandling you like it was nothing.

He kneels between your legs, towering over you, you yelp as he grabs your jeans roughly pulling them the rest of the way down before you can protest.

You unconsciously tug the hem of your shirt lower to cover yourself and he swats your hands away, “Ah, ah sweetheart none of that I wanna see you… how about this, if I take off my shirt you let me take off yours?”

You bite you lip as you consider it, God do you wanna see him… bare chest, tattoos all on display… you nod nervously, mumbling “O-ok… b-but you first…?”

He concedes, “Ok, sweetheart me first.”

He hooks a hand into the collar of his shirt pulls it off and tosses it across the room blindly, your eyes rake over him, practically salivating at the sight, lingering on the sparse trail of hair peeking out over his belt. He’s smirking down at you as you pout up at him, “Pants too?”

“What about them?” He teases.

“Wan’ you to take yours off too… ‘s only fair…”

He grins devilishly, eyes glinting, “How about you take them off for me, princess?”

You sit up and place a shaky hand over his belt buckle, your fingers just grazing the hair of his happy trail. You undo the belt clumsily and unzip his jeans before rolling them down his thighs slowly. His baggy blue and white chequered boxers do little to hide his erection as it tents the fabric there.

Before you can do anything else he’s pushing you back into the pillows behind you, “Now, I seem to remember that the deal was… tit for tat, or rather tats for tits you may say…” he chuckles.

You giggle and resist the urge to fight him when his hands drop to toy with the hem of your shirt, he leans in easing your shirt up, trailing kisses over your belly, your chest, until he pulls your shirt over your head and tosses that aside too, diving back in to kiss you eagerly on the lips. He pulls away leaving you breathless, humming in appreciation, “Beautiful…”

“Eddie stoop…” You whine swatting at him.

“Never, I meant what I said and I’m gonna suck on those tits ‘til you’re begging me for more… there’s uhh… something I want you to do for me though…”

“What’s that?” You mumble curiously.

“Don’t call me Eddie. Do you think you could… call me ‘daddy’ while we…”

You gasp, “Fuck… yeah I can do that for you… daddy.”

“Yeah, just like that, sweetheart.” He moans encouragingly before ducking his head to the crook of your neck biting, kissing, mouthing on it as his hands wrap around you. Calloused, ringed fingers brush against your back as he fiddles with the clasp of your bra, he gets it loose and slips it off down your arms.

He trails kisses down your chest until he reaches a nipple, sucking it into his mouth, laving over it with his tongue. His hands join his mouth, pushing your tits closer together, pinching and rolling the other nipple between his fingers. Your breath hitches at his ministrations and you let out a shaky moan.

“So, fucking responsive… love that I’m the only one who gets to do this to you…” He growls against your skin. He takes the hand closest to his mouth and caresses your mound, before dipping his fingers under the waistband. He runs his fingertips through your slick, teasing your entrance before dragging the up to circle your clit.

“All of this is just for me…” He murmurs, pulling away from you chest briefly.

“Yes, just you… no one else.” You gasp in response.

“God fucking damn, that’s right. I’m the only one that gets to touch you like this, isn’t that right?”

You mumble in assent, “Mhmmm that’s right… daddy, only you.”

“Fuck, princess gonna make me bust a nut and we haven’t even started yet.”

Your legs quiver on either side of him as he plunges two fingers into you crooking them against your soft, spongy walls. You can hear his rings clink together and feel them bump against your entrance, the sound met with a wet squelch as your cunt takes all he has to offer.

His thumb moves to press against your clit in clumsy circles, you grab onto his shoulders tightly, there’s a tension mounting, coiling deep in your belly.

“That’s it princess, you gonna cum for daddy? Cum on my fingers for me.”

Something in you snaps and the tension is released all at once, your walls flutter on his fingertips, your release gushing all over them as you moan breathily.

He grins at you proudly as you gasp for breath, “So, another first for you… what’s that now, first joint, first kiss, first orgasm from my fingers… what’s next my tongue or my cock.

“Jesus fucking Christ Eddie…” he gives you a disapproving look and you try again, “please… please, daddy.”

“Please what, sweetheart… use your words.”

“Please… fuck me…” You whine.

“How do you want it?” He asks firmly, “Tongue. Or cock?”

“Wan’ your cock, wan’ you to fuck me hard, show me I’m yours…” You whimper in response, weakly reaching for his boxers.

“You on any kind of birth control, sweetheart?” He asks in earnest.

“Mhhmm… yep I am.”

“Good… that’s good… now you’re sure about this, right?”

“Yes, never wanted anything more in my life… please…”

He ducks down and presses a kiss to your thigh before tugging your panties down your legs. He looks up at you with a little grin, panties hanging off his finger, “Mind if I keep these?”

“You can have whatever you want so long as you make me cum again daddy…”

He groans in response eyes squeezing shut briefly, and he palms at his cock. He drapes your panties over his lunchbox before sliding down his boxers to join his jeans. His thick, weepy length bobs up between his legs, precum bubbling up at the flushed tip. You gasp at the sight, “You’re so… big… can I touch it first?”

“Gonna gimme an ego sweetheart…” he mumbles as he reaches out for your hand guiding it onto his stiff length.

His precum slicks the motions of your hand, he controls the pace, running your hand along his length the way he likes. You devote all your attention to his cock while he watches you appreciatively.

When you swipe your thumb over the head on the upstroke, he growls lowly, “That’s enough now, princess. This time you’re gonna soak my cock with that tight little cunt of yours.” He looks into your eyes, his own dark with lust.

He pulls his jeans and boxers all the way off dropping them over the edge of the bed.

He pushes you back down into the pillows with a hand on your shoulder before moving to sweep your hair out of your face. He grabs your hand, slick and sticky from rubbing his flushed cock and holds it in front of your face, “Look you got your hand all messy. Lick it clean princess.” He orders.

He pushes your own hand to your mouth and you swipe your tongue over your palm before wrapping your lips around your fingers with a low moan. “Such a good girl for daddy.” He hums, you can taste him on your skin you whine as you imagine what it would be like to suck on his fat cock.

He smirks down at you while he grips his shaft at the base, rubbing the head through your glistening folds. Then another image springs to mind, one he’d painted for you, of him fucking your breasts, losing himself completely and cumming all over your face… how high would it splatter, would it get in your mouth, would it taste like this.

He pulls your hand away from your mouth leaning in for a kiss as he forces his tip inside your dribbling entrance. He swallows up all your little whines and gasps as he drops a hand between you to rub at your swollen clit. He sinks into you further and further until he’s buried deeper than you ever thought possible.

“Gonna give it to you hard and fast real soon princess, but we gotta get you a little warmed up for me first…”

He rolls his hips thrusting shallowly as you adjust to the sensation.

“Please… hmmm… fuck, faster please daddy. Feels so… mhnnn… feels so good” You pant out, hips rising to meet his.

“With pleasure sweetheart.” His hands move to grip your hips bruisingly tight. As he increases the pace, you feel his balls slapping against your ass, the room is filled with all sorts of obscene, wet sounds.

You twist your hand into his curls, gazing up at his rosy face, sweat dripping from his brow, eyes blown wide with lust. When you give a little tug on his hair, he lets out a deep, rumbling moan.

He hooks his arms beneath your legs pulling them up over his shoulders sinking into you deeper with this new angle, “You like being filled up, sweetheart? Feel so good when daddy’s deep in you? You gonna let me cum buried inside you?”

“Please… god yes, want it so bad daddy, want you to fill me up with your cum.”

He brings a hand up to your chin, thumb sliding over it ‘til it rests on your bottom lip as you whimper beneath him, he eases his thumb between your lips and you suck on it mindlessly.

“You’re gonna take everything I give you right?”

You nod, mumbling around his thumb in agreement.

“Then open.” He forces your jaw down with his thumb, you look up at him a little confused.

Suddenly he spits in your mouth, ramming his cock into you at the same time, you whimper.

“Now swallow.” He demands and you do so, your saliva mixing with his as it slides down your throat and your walls flex around him of their own accord.

“Oh, you liked that did you?”

“Y-yes daddy.”

“Oh, you’re such a good girl for me. You do like it hard, don’t you? Gonna fuck you so hard you can’t walk.”

“Please… fuck, please gonna cum again.”

“Then cum for me. Squeeze on my dick, lemme feel it. Cum for daddy.”

You wail, chanting “Daddy, daddy, daddy… fuck ‘m cumming.” Your back arches, head thrown back gasping as you clamp down around him, your release running over his cock in rivulets and he continues to pound into you, fucking you through your orgasm.

You fall back limply still spasming around him when he reaches his peak, he growls, “Yeah that’s it princess, you’re gonna take all my fucking cum… take everything daddy gives you.”

He empties his heavy balls deep inside you with a deep, strung-out groan, you can feel his warm seed flood your cunt, drenching your already slick channel.

He collapses on top of you, sweaty bodies pressed together and he tries to nuzzle in even closer.

“God, that was good sweetheart.” He pants in your ear.

“Yeah.” You mumble in agreement running a hand over his back tracing random patterns.

He sighs and you feel his breath against your cheek while his cock softens slowly slipping out of you. You can feel your combined fluids leaking out of your entrance slipping down between your ass to pool on your bed.

Eddie rolls off of you wandering off naked, when he returns, he’s cleaned himself off, approaching you carrying a warm, damp cloth, he runs it over your body soothingly, between your legs cleaning you off.

He stoops down untangling his boxers from his jeans slipping them on as he moves to your wardrobe rifling around til he finds some pyjamas. He helps you into them gently and wraps the covers around you and turns out the lights before slotting himself in behind you. He presses a kiss to your shoulder and wraps his arms around you with a sigh.

You melt into his embrace and he wishes you sweet dreams, you return the sentiment. The pair of you doze off smiling contentedly in your post-orgasm bliss.

Eddie wakes in very early hours of the morning, still happy and content, girl of his dreams wrapped up in his arms. His thoughts turn sour as he lays there, the demons in his head tormenting him…

Jesus Christ what have you done, that was her first time you fucking pig… you told her to call you ‘daddy’ what is wrong with you… fucking freak… shit that’s what everyone’s gonna think the freak and the fatty, both of you together that’ll send them all into a frenzy and her oh, she’ll never hear the end of it, do you really think she deserves that… do you think you deserve to be happy…

And he’s slipping out from under the covers shrouded in his shame, careful not to rouse you he dresses and collects his belongings. He pauses briefly before pocketing your panties, one last little souvenir. Sick pervert. He shakes his head as if to clear his thoughts before taking off into the early dawn.

You wake up a few hours later, sore, mumbling his name, hands searching for his warmth only to come up with nothing. Eyes snapping open you look around in confusion, you find that all of his belongings are gone all evidence that he was even here gone.

He’d be back, for sure he’d be back. Why would he leave…? But he doesn’t come back, doesn’t answer any of your calls. This continues for the rest of the weekend, you convince yourself it’ll be different when you get to school.

Monday rolls around, your stomach twists into knots, did he regret it, wake up next to you with a sudden clarity, no longer horny or high and realise he didn’t actually want someone who looked like you. Or maybe he was just worried what other people would think if he dated someone like you… good enough to fuck, but not good enough to keep around.

You can’t believe that you’d let yourself believe that it could be something more for even a second. Tears sting your eyes and you swipe them away angrily, you huff sulking off into the bathroom, don’t be so fucking dumb, of course he wouldn’t want you just deal with it. You splash cold water over your face and take a few deep breaths to steady yourself.

You end up late for homeroom, only just entering the room as the teacher calls your name. Eddie isn’t sitting in his usual seat, instead he’s sat beside Gareth chatting away about something to do with the band and their show tomorrow night.

He doesn’t look at you as you pass him, you slink off to the last available seats, it’s fine, it’s fine… more tears threaten to slip out but you bite them back.

He avoids you for the rest of the day, you don’t even see him at lunch, but then you pass him on your way out of the cafeteria, you call out to him, “Hey, Eddie there you are I’ve been looking for you all day.”

But he walks right passed you, blank-faced, staring straight passed you. It’s like a knife to your heart, your frozen can’t move, can’t speak, the tears you’ve been fighting all day spill out. Someone bumps into your shoulder and of course it has to be them, “Watch it fatass.”

And there’s giggles as they walk on you can hear them saying to one another, “She was fucking crying did you see her, what a fucking loser… not even the freak wants to be seen with her now.”

That’s the final straw, you don’t even bother collecting your stuff from your locker you just… leave. You walk all the way home blindly, the tears stoped at some point leaving your eyes puffy and stinging, your nails dig into your palms leaving little half-moon impressions.

You let yourself in trudging to your room, stripping off your clothes and pulling on anything that’s nearby before crawling into bed burying yourself beneath the covers.

Your mum wakes you when she gets home, you brush her off telling her you’re not feeling well, trying to pass it off as really bad period cramps. You tell her you might not go in to school tomorrow, she offers to bring you something to eat and a hot water bottle you nod mutely, you don’t really feel like talking much.

You spend the next few days like that in a haze, numb to the world but acutely aware of the stabbing pain in your chest and the sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach. By the fourth day Nancy stops by to check on you, it’s not like you to miss so many days of school, let alone walk out in the middle of the day.

She enters your room tentatively calling out to you, she sits on the edge of your bed as you groan from your cocoon of blankets.

“You wanna tell me what happened?”

You give a little grunt, she brushes your greasy hair behind your ear gently, “Want a hug?” She offers.

“No, ‘m all gross.” You mumble pulling your self to sit up at the very least, but then the tears flow anew, that’s exactly why he doesn’t want you… fat, ugly, gross, loser… every insult ever hurled at you streams through your brain.

Nancy wraps her arms around you despite your attempts to push her away.

“You know I can’t help if I don’t know what’s wrong. Your mum said you haven’t been eating properly, won’t come out of your room, i haven’t seen you like this since… well in a really long time.”

You breathe in shakily trying to stem the flow of tears, “I’m a fucking idiot that’s what’s wrong.”

“Hey, hey that’s not true, tell me what actually happened.”

You shake your head pushing away from her, “Can’t.”

“Tough ‘cause I’m not leaving ‘til you do.” She folds her arms over her chest giving you a determined look.

“Well, be prepared to stay a while then.”

“Don’t be stubborn.” She chides.

“You don’t be stubborn.”

“I’m just trying to help.”

“Fine, Ugh fine…”

“Go on I’m listening.”

“He doesn’t want me, doesn’t want anything to do with me now.” You can’t bring yourself to look at her while you speak.

“Who’re you talking about?”

“Eddie.”

“That’s not possible, that guy looks at you like you hung the moon. What happened? Did you tell him how you feel or…”

“No… well yes, but… ok, so he came over Friday night. You know how my parents went away?” She nods as you continue, “So, I asked him what it was like to smoke weed, like we always smoke together when we’re at his place, but never that and he was showing me how to roll a joint and god he looked so hot and I made some dumb joke about wanting it ‘hard and fast’ and he kissed me and told me he had a crush on me and I told him as well… and one thing kinda led to another and we ended up having sex and…” you trail off uncertain of how much detail is too much detail.

“None of that sounds bad so far, where did you get the idea that he doesn’t want you if he’s already slept with you.”

“When I woke up in the morning… after… he was gone, he didn’t answer any of my calls the whole weekend but I thought I’d give him the benefit of the doubt… I dunno, whatever. Anyway then at school on Monday he acted like I didn’t even exist, walked right passed me and they had to see it, had to comment on it.”

You hazard a glance at her and you can practically see the steam billowing out from her ears, “I’m sorry he what?!”

“I just I don’t wanna talk about it anymore, the year’s almost over and just like before he’ll be disappearing from my life again… this time just a little sooner than planned.”

“I’m gonna talk to him.” She says firmly.

“What? No! Nance don’t… please don’t… promise me you won’t.”

“I…” she falters at the look in your eye, “Alright, fine I won’t.”

You shoot her a stern look, “Really, I promise I won’t.” She insist.

“I mean it don’t.” You finish firmly.

“Ok… have you eaten today? What did you have?”

“I did, I had tea and crackers.”

“Is that it? All day that’s all you had?”

“Yeah, it’s fine, it’s not like I’m doing anything today other than wallowing in bed and it’s not as if I’ll starve to death.”

“You know starving yourself is just as bad as overeating, neither of which is going to help you right now. Come on get out of bed go have a shower, I’ll make you something to eat and we can watch a movie… we haven’t had a girl’s night in a while you know.”

You give in to her pestering and it does help to take your mind off things for a bit. She makes you promise that she’ll see you up and about next week.

Nancy doesn’t break her promise at first, not exactly but she does go straight to Steve right after your little ‘girl’s night’.

“You want me to what?”

She rolls her eyes, “Oh, relax it’s not that big a deal just talk to the guy.”

“Why me? If it’s not such a big deal you talk to him.”

“I told you I promised y/n I wouldn’t so I’m not.”

“Still don’t get why it has to be me.” He grumbles.

“What are you scared of him or something?” She teases.

“No! It’s just weird you want me to talk to him about his sex life, c’mon that’s weird.”

“Hey, y/n is your friend too and she’s really hurting right now, just talk to the guy.”

“Why couldn’t it be one of those Hellfire guys instead?”

“Well, I don’t really know them, I know you… but I guess we could talk to them too. Maybe they could help, we can ask Mike where to find them.”

That’s how they find themselves grouped together with a couple of the guys from Hellfire Club, on Eddie Munson’s front porch. Nancy knocks on the front door and Eddie tumbles out to greet them “Wheeler? Harrington? The fuck are you two doing here?”

He spots Gareth and Jeff just behind them, “Emerson… what the fuck is going on?”

Nancy pokes him in the chest angrily, “Inside. Now, Munson.”

He holds up his hands in surrender stumbling backwards inside the trailer.

When everyone is inside, he tries again, “Right, so is anyone gonna fill me in here? What the fuck is going on?”

The boys let her go off on her tirade, her promise to you forgotten amidst her anger, “Don’t play dumb Munson, we’re here about what happened with y/n.”

“Shit… yeah I know I took things too far but tell her it’s ok, I’ll stay away from now on.”

“That is exactly the problem, why are you staying away?”

“Just imagine what people would say about us, the freak and the fatty…”

Gareth speaks up taken aback, “What the fuck man since when do you call her that?”

Eddie sighs “I don’t, it’s just what people would say and she doesn’t deserve that, she doesn’t need people judging her and they would if we were together. Why would anyone want to be seen with the freak nah she doesn’t need that.”

“Since when has that stopped her before, she’s with you all the time?” Jeff counters.

“Yeah, but that’s different it’ll be so much worse for her if we’re dating, this is for her own good, she’d be better off without me all together.” He protests with a tone of finality.

“Shouldn’t you let her decide that for herself? You don’t think you’re hurting her right now… acting like this. Imagine what she’s feeling, what she’s thinking. She’s alone in her room, hasn’t left for days, hasn’t been eating, torturing herself over why you’d do this.” Nancy attempts to reason with him.

Reality comes crashing down around him as he realises what he’s done, “Oh fuck I’m… shit I’m a fucking asshole. I let my own fucking insecurities get to me I didn’t stop to think how she’d feel, how she’d see it… fuck, fuck, fuck.” He paces back and forth tugging on his curls anxiously. His head snaps up, locking on to Nancy, “What do I do… what can I do?”

Steve speaks up for the first time, side-eyeing Nancy as he does so, “You fucking apologise man, take her flowers, beg for her forgiveness… whatever it takes.”

“Right… right.” He mutters to himself before his head pops up again, “You guys uh wanna like leave, or…?”

“Yeah, we’ll go.” Steve replies leading the way out of the trailer.

Nancy lets the other two go first before turning back to Eddie, “You fix this Munson… and I was never here, ok?”

He rubs the back of his neck awkwardly, “Uhh… yeah ok.”

He stands beneath your bedroom window tossing rocks at it til one connects. You peek your head out at the noise and see him standing there, arms laden with flowers and candy. You don’t quite trust yourself to speak first so you stare down at him expectantly.

He finally breaks the silence, “Can I come in? We gotta talk.”

Your despair solidifies into bitter anger, “Oh, now you wanna talk… fuck off.”

“Please… please just hear me out.” He calls back desperately.

“Why the fuck should I? I gave you so many chances, why now?”

“I’m a fucking idiot, I know that and I’m sorry I’m so so sorry. Please just let me in, let me explain and then I’ll go if you want, I promise.”

“Alright, fine. You better make it quick though… you know the way in. Come up.” You slip back into your room slamming the window shut.

He takes the stairs in leaps and bounds when he gets inside, hesitating outside your bedroom before steeling himself and opening the door.

The second he steps inside it’s like all moisture is wicked away from his mouth he stands there for a moment in silence. You prompt him to begin, “Well? You gonna actually speak or-”

He blurts out, “I love you…”

You roll your eyes, scoffing, “Yeah, sure you fucking do… not falling for that one again.”

He persists, “I’m really, really, really sorry, you have no idea. I uh got these for you.” He thrusts out the flowers and a box of candy in your direction.

You eye them sceptically, snarling, “And what some flowers and chocolates are gonna make me just fall right into bed with you again… ‘daddy’?”

“I never should have… I took things way too far for your first time I am so fucking sorry. I really do love you though.” He says in earnest.

Your voice cracks, “Why did you leave? Why do you always fucking leave me?”

“Because I was a dumb fucking piece of shit too wrapped up in my own insecurities… thinking I don’t deserve you, don’t deserve happiness… worried about what people would think of you if you were dating me, the things they’d say…thought you’d be better off without me.”

“It’s not on you to make decisions like that for me, you ass. The things people would say about me because I’m dating you… fuck that’d just fly right over my head ‘cause I’d be with you. And that shit about you not deserving happiness is just that, absolute shit… of course you deserve happiness. And by doing this you deprived both of us of a chance at happiness.”

“Is… is it too late… can I… can we try again?” He stutters out hopefully.

Your resolve slips, “You really hurt me Munson…”

His face falls, “I know, I’m so sorry… and I will spend the rest of my fucking life making it up to you if… if you’d let me?”

“It… it wasn’t too far you know, umm I actually really liked it… all of it.”

His eyes search your own desperately, “Does that mean…?”

“Yes Eddie, it means we can try again.”

His face lights up and he drops the flowers and the candy onto your bed, he moves towards you but stops suddenly, “Can… can I kiss you?”

You give a small nod and he dives in kissing you slowly, deeply, with purpose. He pulls away and asks breathily, “Can I stay the night?”

“Don’t push your luck.” You warn.

He gasps, “No! Not… not like that… I mean not that I wouldn’t want that, but… I mean, just let me sleep here, that’s it just sleep, cuddle a bit. Then in the morning I’ll show you how it should have gone the first time, like this past week never happened.”

“O-ok, yeah we can do that.”

“Thank you.” He hums pulling you against him, nuzzling into your neck.

And true to his word that is all you do that night, falling asleep wrapped up in one another, peacefully. He wakes you in the morning with a sweet kiss, he says he’d offer to make you breakfast but the best he could do is cereal so he takes you out to the diner instead.

When you tell Nancy what happened she doesn’t seem too surprised, “Good I’m glad the two of you worked that out, I’m happy for you really… but if he ever does anything like that again you tell me straight away. I’ll sort him right out.”

You shoot her a suspicious look, “Nance, did you talk to him?”

“What? No! No, I promised I wouldn’t… it was Steve and a couple of your Hellfire friends I swear.”

“Uh huh and how did they know about it?” You probe.

She folds easily, “Alright fine I talked to him, I’m sorry but-”

“No, it’s fine. Actually, I’m glad you did, thank you.”

“No problem… so, now can we talk about it… what’s he like in the bedroom?”

You gasp mock scandalised, “Nancy Wheeler, how dare you…” you can’t maintain it for long and burst into giggles, “He is gooood I’ll say that much, very generous in every sense of the word.”

She raises a brow, “You mean…” and indicates size with her hands.

You nod “Oh, boy do I, and he knows what to do with it.”

She chuckles at your response, you ask about her, “How’re you and Jonathan?”

“Good, we’re good…”

The two of you chat long into the night, you’re glad of a friend like her, glad she stepped in when she did else who knows how things could’ve gone.

895 notes · View notes

applejuicefruit · 1 year

Note

I SAW THAT YOU ALREADY DID THE AFTERCARE I'M SO SORRY LMAO

so maybe a jealous neymar that ends with fluff? maybe like a party, and then when they come home they have a little argument that ends with cuddles

hiii don’t worry! thank you for requesting ❤️

i really hope you like this ✨

Love letters

It was your best friend bday party tonight and of course she invited you.

Your boyfriend Neymar was coming too of course he would never miss a party even though he wasn’t invited. Your best friend wasn’t a fan of him, she didn’t like his playboy attitude and she was aware of all the girls he “dated” before meeting you. But she also knew how much he made you happy so she let it slide.

Still he wasn’t invited but he decided to come anyway.

It was 9pm and you were both leaving your home going to the club. You were the opposite of Neymar when it came to parties. You hated loud music and people drunkly dancing around each other. Your birthdays always consisted of watching movies with friends and eating a lot of junk food. So you weren’t happy about going to a club but you did anyway because it was your best friend you were talking about.

You weren’t wearing anything “club appropriated”, in fact if it wasn’t because you were with Neymar they wouldn’t even let you in. You had a pair of black jeans and a cute white jumper because honestly, it was cold outside. Everything matched perfectly with your black and white Jimmy Choos. Your make up was simple and well made but not to much excessive. Just a red lipstick to bright up your face, with some mascara and eyeliner, and of course concealer.

You knew your best friend had expensive tastes so Neymar got her a new Louis Vuitton for her birthday. This gift to justify his presence.

You got her a cute friendship bracelet, the one from Cartier tho. Yes she made you spend a lot of money but she was your only real friend so you would do it anyway.

The party has already started when you got in. You hugged your best friend and gave her gift when Neymar went to grab a few drinks.

You needed to drink, it would have been a long night.

Only one hour into the party and you were already bored and tired of the loud music. Neymar, otherwise, was dancing with a lot of strangers in the middle of the dance floor and you couldn’t help but laugh at his half drunken state.

“Y/n?” a foreign voice called your name.

When you turn around to see who called you, you see someone who looked familiar but couldn’t connect the dots.

Then everything came back.

“Tommy?” you called.

Tommy was your middle school best friend and secret crush. He was the nerdy boy who always helped you with exams and homework and he would always spend the after school watching cartoons with you.

You haven’t seen him since you were 16.

“Heyyy it’s me” he said sitting next to me.

I couldn’t believe it was actually him!

“It’s been so long” he said “what are you up to now? I know you’re dating a certain famous football player” he said pointing at Neymar.

You laughed a bit.

“Well, ehm yes, we’ve been dating for ove two years now…things are going well. What about you?”

“I’m actually a lawyer now!” he said proudly.

I knew it he would have make it far.

We talked for what I think it were hours since everyone started leaving the party so I decided to look for Neymar and go home.

Before I went I stood up and hugged Tommy. His hands lowering a little bit but you didn’t think about it much. Maybe he just missed you.

Before leaving he left you his number with the excuse “in case you need a lawyer”.

He was actually flirting with you but truth was that you were a very naïve person, you couldn’t make a difference from when a person was flirting with you and from when a person was just being nice. In most cases people were just trying to get into your pants but you couldn’t know if it wasn’t for Neymar scaring everyone away.

“Babe?” you called him when you found him sat on a couch “are you ready to go home?” you asked him.

He simply stood up without saying a word.

He left the club and you were following behind him.

You got into the car and asked him if he was okay but he wouldn’t answer.

When you got home you went straight into the bathroom and changed yourself into a pair of gray short pants and a long hoodie. They were both Neymar’s of course. When you got out you found him sitting on the couch with his phone in his hand.

“Babe?” you called “aren’t you coming to bed?” you asked him

“Me? Why don’t you ask your friend?”

“Ah?” you asked completely confused

“You know who I’m talking about”

“Tommy?”

“So that’s his name?”

“I don’t understand - why are you acting so strange?”

“I don’t know maybe because my girlfriend flirted the whole night with a stranger and she let him touch her ass?” he asked ironically

I was very confused.

“What you mean?”

“Oh don’t play stupid! You flirted with a man the whole night! I’ve seen him touching your ass and giving you his number!”

“That’s not how it went…” you tried to resonate

“Oh so what happened?” he asked getting mad

“He’s a friend, I know him…we were at school together and I haven’t seen him for 10 years”

“So because he’s a friend you let him touching your ass? I didn’t know you were so generous” he said back.

This hurt.

I was fully crying now but he wouldn’t let go.

“Stop playing so innocent when you’re out there acting like a whore” he said instantly regretting it. But it was too late.

He saw the expression change in your face, from hurt and mad to completely heartbroken and disappointed.

He tried to take a few steps towards you but stopped when he saw you were leaving.

“I’ll sleep in the guest bedroom” you said leaving and closing the door of your guest bedroom.

That night you both didn’t sleep.

You spent the whole night crying and you could swear he could hear you sobbing.

He spent the night awake regretting everything he said. He wish he could turn back time.

Then morning came and you didn’t dare leaving your room. When you stood up to open the window you saw a small piece of paper under the door.

You picked it up and it was a message from Neymar.

I’m sorry I messed up.

I over reacted for nothing.

I’m an idiot and I don’t deserve you.

You’re the greatest thing that came into my life and I managed to fuck everything up.

I’m sorry. I really am.

- Neymar

You were in tears after reading that letter. Yes he was an idiot but he was your idiot. So you decided to go out and you saw him standing in the corridor with his back pressed to the gym room.

“Hey…” he said softly coming towards you “I’m so stupid I fucked everything up but I got so jealous seeing him touching you and making you laugh that I thought you liked him or something…” he confessed

“You’re the only one for me Ney…”

“You’re the only one for me babe, and I’m so sorry for acting like a dick, would you please forgive me?” he said with tears in his eyes. You’ve never seen him so vulnerable it made your heart crack a little.

“Of course baby” you said hugging him and him wrapping his hands around your body.

He took your chin up and kissed you. It was a soft kiss, more like “i’m sorry kiss”. You still enjoyed it.

“Let me make it up to you” he said picking you up and bringing you into your shared bedroom.

He laid you gently on the bed and started kissing and undressing you.

If this is how he acted after a fight you should probably fight more often, you thought smiling.

#neymar smut #neymar angst #neymar fluff #neymarjr x reader #neymarjrxreader #neymar x reader #neymar junior #neymar #paris saint germain #psg #football #football imagine

552 notes · View notes

s0lam33y · 9 months

Text

shuriri hcs [new and updated!]

side note: these aren’t the same HCS that I uploaded on my old acc. Some may be similiar but anyway hope it’s obvious that I did better on these. enjoy them and reblogs/feedback is always welcome.

Timeline: about two years after the bpwf film.

Shuri’s convinced that they need a theme song when they go on missions but they have opposite music taste.

Shuri always makes corny ass vine references and it makes Riri cringe.

“Shuri, quit talkin’.”

Shuri practically lives in Riri’s dorm. She’s there so often that Riri kinda expects it.

Shuri cannnnot stand when Riri brings up the whole bulls game situation because she ends up fighting for her life.

Shuri loves to rest her chin on Riri’s head, if not her head then her shoulder.

Riri is the big spoon, all the time. Rarely, does she ever get spooned.

They’ve been told that they remind the lab staff of an old sassy couple because they always throw fake shade at each other.

Riri always up on herrrrrr, but shuri doesn’t mind at all.

Once they decided to play fight and Shuri forgot about her panther strength…Riri ended up with a bruise on her thigh.

Riri did not know how to work her kimoyo beads at first and ended up calling a council meeting once my accident.

Their height difference. That’s it.

they always some how matching? Not necessarily color coded but they always for some sort of matching accessories or shoes.

Shuri has no comebacks…at least not when needs them so she just agrees with what Riri says.

“Who’s the man in the relationship?”

“Your mother.”

“What she said.”

Riri asks dumbass questions in the middle of the night.

“You’d still fuck with me If I was a butterfly right?”

“No.”

Riri taught shuri how to drive an actual car on the road and they damn near crashed Riri’s red barracuda.

Shuri’s always braiding her hair.

“Would you hold still?”

“Braid less tight, then maybe I would.”

when they go out together, Shuri’s social battery runs out so quick because she’s much rather be home.

When they go shopping, Shuri’s always carrying Riri’s bags.

“You the one with super strength not me.”

Shuri sleeps 60 percent of the time so when they hang out, half of it consists of naps and it rubs off on Riri.

Shuri always making some smartass comment about Riri’s height.

“I think ironheart would be more of a success if she was taller.”

“Literally fuck off.”

Riri is genuinely unhinged because she knows how fine Shuri is.

“Drop yo drawls, bruh.”

“Riri, we’re in a council meeting.”

“They can watch-“

“You can never be serious.”

“I’m being so serious.”

Shuri cannot take a compliment for some reason. Every time Riri says something, she gets kinda shy.

Riri ‘borrows’ Shuri’s clothes.

“Yo, can I get that hoodie?”

“What-“

“I’ll give it back.”

“I know you won’t, but here….”

Shuri is so petty when it comes to her lab so Riri has her own area.

Shuri gets her mad on purpose to hear that Chicago accent. Trust she gets it.

Shuri’s a morning person and ends up having to drag Riri out of bed every single morning.

“Just get up.”

“M’coming.”

“The alarm went off an hour ago.”

Both of them love them some chains.

Riri’s unhinged, we know this but so is Shuri, just more subtly.

“We got five minutes till your next class starts.”

“Girl….”

“I’m just saying, I felt like it was worth mentioning.”

“I missed a week of school cuz of you, TWO YEARS AGO….and I need that 4.0 GPA, I’m goin to class.”

Shuri cannot stay still when she sleeps and it pisses Riri off so bad but she doesn’t say anything about it. She’s also a blanket hog so Riri has no choice but to cuddle with her.

They argue over things that don’t really need to be argued over.

“For the last time…Chicago Pizza isn’t the best.”

“What’d you just say?”

…

“Chicago was not Micheal’s best song, you’re just saying that because you’re from Chicago.”

“Shuri, i want to have a peaceful evening.”

Never let them play Uno together because it ends up in some sort of argument.

“You only took two, take four-“

“I’m not taking four cards.”

“Fuck you mean, I put down a plus four.”

“Take it back, I’m not taking four cards, Rianna.”

The same way Riri takes Shuri’s clothes, the same thing happens with Riri.

“Is that my MIT sweatshirt?”

“No.”

“….”

“It’s comfortable.”

“So it’s my sweatshirt?”

“I didn’t say that.”

As previously stated, Riri is UNHINGED…so trust that her comments make everyone turn around sometimes especially when Shuri’s done with training.

“And the jog was quite nice- are you paying attention?”

“Mhm mhm, y’all do ab workouts too?”

“My eyes are up here.”

“I know.”

“What was the last thing I said?”

“….”

Shuri hates hanging up the phone. She sleeps on the phone, eats on the phone and sometimes they just sit in silence.

#shuri udaku #riri williams #black panther #shuriri #shuri x riri #mmcanons

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ms-nesbit · 9 months

Text

Empire records (jason todd x reader)

Rating: 18+ (minors, fuck off)

Warnings: masturbation, reader is female, reader is bisexual, Jason Todd is not red hood, plus size reader

Summary: Jason is a cam model and is killing it, so he heads to the record store where he sees y/n.

Notes: honestly, i loved the idea of this one. Let me know if you want me to continue with an additional chapter or something.

ao3

“God…” Jason exhaled, a slow flow of cum spurting from his cock and onto his hand. Breathing labored as he came down from his orgasm, Jason revealed the mess he made to the webcam. “Fuck, that’s so much cum.” he spoke half-heartedly, the tone masked by faux sensuality and confidence. “What do you want me to do next, hmm?” he sat up in his computer chair and bit on his bottom lip. “Let me know, Babe. I’ll be here again next week. Till next time.” Jason ran his fingers through his hair, his tricep exposed to the camera. He flashed his signature winked before ending the livestream, shutting off the comment section and logging off from his administrative account.

Wiping his hand clean on a nearby napkin, he remained silent, his presiding persona crumbling with each minute after the stream ended. Jason hadn’t bothered to glance at the comments - only the tips, which he gratefully appreciated; they accounted for his rent and utilities, above other expenses, including the impromptu trip to Vanity Records he was getting ready to make.

After a quick shower (graphic details spared) and his skincare routine consisting of serum and spf moisturizer, Jason adorned his already-attractive figure with dark washed jeans and a simple black tee, which was layered by his black and red-striped leather biking jacket.

Once he tied his boots, he set out the door to the record store, walking to the parking lot - riding helmet in tow - to his motorcycle.

—

“I’ve told you how many times that we don’t carry that bullshit?” y/n spat into the landline phone, wrapping her cord around her finger. “Seriously, Joe, I don’t give a rat’s ass that your old town carried Tom Petty. We don’t do campy bullshit. Got it?” Before she gave the voice on the other end to even respond, she abruptly hung up, rolling her eyes and wiggling her finger free from the twisted cord.

She crossed her arms and sat back in her velvet mustard lounger behind the register, pulling an inventory sheet from the cluster of papers scattered on the surface. Clanging of bells attached to the entrance door temporarily distracted her enough to drone, “Vanity Records: if we don’t have it, your music taste sucks.”

“Well, I hope it doesn’t. Do you have Foo Fighters?”

The voice was sardonic, but it didn’t stop y/n from giving a judgemental look to… a tall man whose black tee matched his (mostly) black hair, the white patch in the front pairing fondly with the low white collar on his leather jacket. He awaited her answer with playful eyes, though they seemed heavy. “If you’re talking about Nirvana, yes.” y/n began, crossing her arms in front of the keyhole cutout on the chest of her long-sleeved black blouse, which was coupled by black and red plaid pants, and a scowl on her face. “If you’re talking about the Louise Post-worshipping Foo Fighters? Also yes.” she stood from her seat and leaned over the clutter of paperwork, ignoring it completely in an attempt to flirt with the handsome stranger. “But if you’re talking about the mock-punk, dads-in-a-cluttered-garage-with-a-pipe-dream Foo Fighters? We don’t carry it.”

The man smiled down at her. “Could you show me?” he tilted his head ever-so-slightly, as if he wasn’t a regular customer already.

With a click of her tongue, y/n left her station, showing the man to a collection of vinyl organized alphabetically. She scanned at the waves of albums, distraught by the poor penmanship of the poor schmuck who had a stroke labeling the aisles, but made her way to the ‘dad rock’ section, reaching over and thumbing through different albums behind a poorly-enunciated letter ‘F’. In between all this, she failed to notice the man - who had been walking behind her - ingesting her outfit, and how the blouse accentuated her.

“Ah! Here we go.” She pulled out a plastic-slipped album titled The Colour and the Shape, and handed it over to the man, who grinned at her. “Anything else?”

Biting the inside of his cheek to prevent him from commenting anything creepy, he chose safer words instead. “Is there anything you recommend? I’m kinda new here, and I don’t really know what to listen to.”

Y/n pondered for a moment, before asking a series of questions: “What do you like to do on a Saturday afternoon? What’s your favorite comfort food? Do you have any siblings? And…fight or flight?”

The man was taken aback by the questions, confused by the randomness of the inquiries. As he thought carefully about his answers, he zoned out, unaware of the chewing of his lip that allowed a dimple to present itself to y/n. If she wasn’t committed to her shrewd demeanor, she would have swooned. “If it’s sunny, I like to watch tv, but if it’s raining, I’ll read and take a walk; I fucking love an unhealthy amount of baklava, but I will settle for eclairs if necessary;” the man began rambling, passion strong in his voice, “I do have adopted siblings, but no blood relatives that are living, and; I suppose fight. I don’t really know when to quit.” the man smiled embarrassingly at his own confession.

Responding with a hum of affirmation, y/n skimmed over the vast selection in the compact shop. She then briskly walked to a middle aisle, dusty tile floor scuffed by her combat boots, before stopping at an unmarked section, fingering through the untouched vinyl. She pulled one out and whipped around, presenting the album cover to the man on the other end of the crates. “Human Bloom. They are fusion jazz from Chicago, but have a nice tone to it. I would give them a try if I were you.” she handed the man the record. “Need anything else…?” her question hung on a cliff, dangling in hope for a name.

“Jason.” he replied, “and no, I think that’ll be all.” he tried to look for a nametag, but found a newfound attraction to chest-placed keyhole cutouts instead.

“Y/n. The checkout is something I’m supposed to take care of with a register, not with you and your eyes.” she admonished, quirking a brow before heading back to her post behind the counter, hips swaying with each step she took.

Jason watched, unable to speak by the way he was called out. He took larger steps to the checkout, head down as he did so. “Yes. Right. Sorry.” he stammered when he finally reached the register, patting his jacket pockets for his wallet before finding it in his pec pocket (or, as he calls it, tit patch). “How much would those be?”

Y/n clacked at the old register buttons, its labels washed out from abuse. “$52.75. Cash, card, or number?”

“Pardon?” Jason opened up his wallet.

“Y’know, you could tender with cash, a credit or debit card, or your phone number.”

Jason smiled widely at y/n, finally acknowledging her forward attempt at flirting. He set his wallet down on the counter and asked quietly, “Can you do that here?”

“For you? Sure.” y/n remarked, her ‘sure’ accompanied by a survey of Jason’s tall figure with her eyes. She tore a piece of paper and opened a drawer by her hip, grabbing a pen and jamming it shut before sliding the pair to Jason.

Pen in hand, Jason jotted down his number and passed it back to y/n, who already removed her phone from one of her pockets and entered the number into it. Jason watched her every move, impressed, albeit flattered, by her determination; until, of course, his phone vibrated in his back pocket. He checked it briefly: new text: you are as tall as you are hot, buddy.

Jason gaped at the text before looking at y/n. “I must be pretty short then.” he snickered, earning a scoff from the woman on the other end of the counter.

“Short on time? Patience?” she dipped her voice an octave. “...Self-control?”

Before Jason could respond, y/n’s coworker, Jade, greeted him. “Hey, Jay! How was work today?”

Jason stopped in his tracks. Y/n dropped her seduction tactics, returning to her guarded expression. “Yes, Jay, how was work today?”

Both employees stared at Jason with terribly different intentions, one with genuine curiosity, and the other with vehemence. “It was okay, I guess. Made some tips, so that’s why I’m here.”

“Good.” Jade chirped. “I would have stopped by on the livestream, but I dunno…camwork really isn’t my thing. Wish you all the best though!” She finished with a beam before walking away from the counter and to the back of the store, away from whatever tension she sensed.

“I can explain-”

“Over breakfast. Tomorrow.” y/n decided Jason’s fate for him, which he was happy was spared. It was rare he was forgiven for white lies, something that he was awfully rung out for. He accepted his dues with a nod and snuck out of the record store with his tail tucked between his legs.

—

Jason and y/n exchanged details on their confirmed date, so it was rather disappointing to Jason when he arrived at the Gotham Diner to…nobody. He checked his phone when the waitress seated him at a booth, and again after she poured him a cup of coffee. Nothing.

“Good morning, Jason.” y/n greeted out of nowhere, bringing Jason’s attention from his desolate thoughts to the woman now scooting herself on the abrasive booth cushion. He must have smiled, because y/n added, “Got your uppers for today?”

He rolled his eyes at her. “Good to know your chipper attitude isn’t just your customer service voice.” he critiqued, to which y/n stared at him. “You look nice today.”

“Thanks. I think I stepped on dog shit on the way over.” she glanced underneath the table at the underside of her boot.

The silence between them was too agonizing for Jason to handle, despite it being short. “So, about yesterday, I didn’t really mean to lie like that, and I just wanted to say I’m-”

“Seriously don’t worry about it, man. I like that you’re not put off by me, y’know? A lot of guys are; usually it’s the chicks I hit on that admire my decisiveness.” y/n tore open a few packets of stevia, shaking its contents into her coffee before stirring it with the wooden stick. “Jade gave me intel on your job though.” Jason frowned, awaiting the imminent rejection he expected with the acknowledgement of his unconventional line of work. “I’m all for sex work, dude, so don’t sweat it, but camwork? Really? Isn’t that, like, outdated now?”

Jason allowed his shoulders to slouch as his nerves settled, pleasantly surprised by y/n’s reaction. “To be honest, I know a lot of people do shit like modeling, but it feels so…forced.”

“And camwork is different? I’m not sure how it is for guys.”

“No, you…you have a point.” y/n saw through him, and saw something he hadn’t quite noticed in himself; it was, to a degree, a facade. He didn’t want to jeopardize his vulnerability to the dark caves of the internet, so he simply hid behind something he wanted to be, rather than completely himself. Perhaps that was why he admired y/n so much, despite knowing so little of her.

The pair was interrupted by a waitress, who took their orders. “An egg-white only omelet, please.” Jason politely asked.

“And could you get me a large stack, please? With extra blueberries on top.” Y/n asked with wide eyes, clearly ecstatic by the antioxidant properties of the garnish.

After the waitress left, they returned to their conversation. “I do pretend to enjoy some of the stuff I’m requested to do, but I dunno.” Jason hid behind his cup of coffee, an absurd sight for y/n seeing a tall, broad figure hunched over. “To be honest, I’m kinda turned on by the idea of someone watching me. Plus it pays the bills.”

Y/n mirrored Jason’s shrug in rapport. “I see what you mean. If I had the body, I think I’d do the same, but there isn’t much of a market for stocky punk chicks.” she stated, a sliver of disappointment in her voice.

“I’d watch.” Jason blurted, before covering his face with his large hand. “Sorry, I-”

“One omelet, egg whites only.” the waitress returned, huge tray balanced in her palm. She distributed the plates and utensils. “And a large stack for y/n, our favorite regular.” the waitress beamed at y/n, who returned the sentiment. “Hope you two enjoy.” she left with a wink.

“Thanks, Wanda!” y/n called from her booth, giddily dancing in her seat when returning her attention to the stack of round, golden pancakes in front of her.

“You come here often?” Jason inquired skeptically, offended that she hadn’t indulged him in the information prior to their scheduling.

Y/n nodded and gave a “mmhmm” that was muffled by pancakes in her mouth. “You know, I used to come here in my college days.” y/n explained once she swallowed her first bite of the delectable breakfast treat. “I’d stop by with my study group - which was usually just me - and I’d sometimes order a few rounds of the stacks. Wanda there joked that my veins are probably pumping syrup more than blood, and I’m afraid I have to agree with her on that one.”

Jason let out a chuckle while cutting his omelet with a knife and fork with minimal scraping. “At least the vampires will get a tasty dessert if they bite you.”

“Maybe you’re right!” y/n stifled her laughter. “Maybe they’ll pour my blood over some waffles or something.”

Hand over his mouth to prevent omelet from flying all over the table and y/n, Jason chortled and mocked Dracula, “Mmm! ‘Vou must try this breakfast! Ze blood is vunderful!”

Y/n gasped jokingly. “How dare you mock vampires? They don’t all sound like that.”

They each took turns smacking the table and giggling, exchanging niche vocal impressions until Wanda returned with a warning. “You two are causing a distraction to some of our other patrons here. Try to keep it under control, okay?” she gave them a lambasted look. “Here is the check, since I know you two will probably want to continue your date.”

Date. Y/n blushed at the word. “Thank you, Wanda. And tell that rigid couple in booth twelve that we’re sorry, and we’re not real vampires.”

“But we will bite if needed.” Jason added with a cheap smile.

Wanda sighed and walked away, murmuring something incoherent.

As Jason was about to snag his wallet, y/n slipped a couple of bills in the receipt card. “I’m holding you hostage, so I’m paying. Don’t worry, pretty boy.”

Though the action was assurring, it was confusing when paired with y/n’s nickname for Jason. He found himself amused at the woman, and had to ask: “What are your answers, by the way?”

“Hmm?”

“Your answers. To the question you asked me yesterday. You never gave me yours.”

Y/n grinned innocently, sincerity splayed across her face. Jason wished he could have taken a photo of it - her eyes were just pretty. “Gimme a sec to think,” she sat back in the booth, head hitting the backrest with a thump. “So I usually don’t do anything except listen to music and read, I have two siblings - but three if you count the imaginary turtle I had when I was six, I love a good bowl of soup and some tamales, and I’m not wearing any.”

Jason cocked his head, perplexed by the final answer. “Not wearing any? Any what?”

“Underwear.” y/n blinked innocently, despite being well aware of her suggestion. “You asked if I’m wearing underwear, right? I’m not.” her smile grew bigger with each word, and her eyes dimmed darker with lust.

So did Jason’s. “Oh, uhm.” he was indecisive, unable to choose how to respond. It wasn’t that Jason was inexperienced the art of flirtation, it was that he hadn’t quite been this interested in someone in a long time, and it showed by the way his cheeks reddened (and cock hardened in his pants) at her reveal.

He refused to indulge, his pride in the way. “Thank you for this.”

“No problem.” It wasn’t the reaction y/n was hoping for, and her tone fell with it.

They stood and exited the diner together, loitering in the parking space where Jason had left his motorcycle. Jason noticed that y/n’s spark died off when he hadn’t taken her bait, and although he felt guilt, he knew he wanted to explore the relationship more prior to sleeping together. He feared that y/n took it personally;

She did. “I’ll text you.” she said, backing away before she gave a brief wave of her hand and disappearing into the crowd of Gothamites.

—

“Jesus, what is wrong with me.” y/n sighed when she re-entered her loft, littered with old clothing on the ground, and walls decorated with mismatched posters. As she untied her boots, she replayed the rejection in her head: Jason’s nose twitching, eyes shifty, and mouth open, pausing to choose whatever denial he believed was appropriate.

Her phone chimed in her pocket, but she neglected to check it; instead, she hovered to her bed on the other end of the studio flat, and tumbled onto it, her sheets making a punched ‘oof’. Deep breaths calmed her worried mind buzzing with defeat, and she wondered if perhaps she was, in a word, bamboozled.

It didn’t make sense: the flirting beforehand, way his eyes wandered too freely on her body like a dog to a treat, yet he rejected her…why? Was it what she wore that day? The borderline offensive vampire impressions? Or was it, in the end, her determination that hammered the final nail into the coffin of the potential of their relationship?

Heels digging in the sand, y/n set off on her research, beginning with Jason’s business venture. She sat up in her bed, fixing the pillows to better suit her needs, and reached over for the laptop on the ground. Y/n opened it and waited for the startup operation sequence, the fan vibrating over y/n’s lap as it whirred.

“Alright, Todd, let’s see what camwork you’re doing.” y/n murmured as she entered the site info, creating an account to access the lewd media. “A $7.99 subscription? I didn’t know these cost money nowadays.” she chortled at the virtual pricetag while entering her card info, reluctant to provide sensitive information on her archaic device.

Upon granted access, y/n’s eyes widened, blurred images revealing themselves to her, and she was, well, intrigued, to say the least. The first uncensored media on the site feed was Jason in a public dressing room, unclothed; his hooded eyelids and smirk enhanced his smitten look; his chest was naked, gleaming from the shop lights, and his shoulders were broad, leaned back into the wall of the dressing room; his torso was chiseled, the contour of his muscles shaping into a v near his pelvis, almost as if they were a sign from god for y/n’s eyes to point to his carefully trimmed pubic hair, which failed to hide the base of his thich, uncut cock.

Y/n hadn’t even looked at the caption, so when she finally managed to strip her eyes away from his holy figure, she grinned at the words, “Imagination - life is your creation, Doll.”

A fucking Barbie reference, and she dropped the ball? Y/n scrolled to drown her distraught, searching for a video she could watch.

A notification popped on the page: Robin Hood started a livestream. Click to join. Y/n scrambled to find her dreaded wired headphones, shoving the plug into the jack on the side of the laptop. She then clicked on the notification, instantly refreshing the screen to bring her to a livestream starring the man she had just joked with about Transylvanian vampire genitalia.

The irony. “This is unreal.” y/n muttered to herself as she stared at the tall man sat back on his bed - different than his usual post in his computer seat - as he flicked open a cap of lube, applying it to his hand before he spread it on his erection. He exhaled as he did so, toned chest rising as his fingers moved along his sensitive flesh.

“Fuck, this feels good.” Jason moaned, hips bucking into his hand as his eyes remained closed. Y/n rubbed her thighs together at the sight. “I’m already so close. I wanna come so bad.”

Y/n let out a low moan deep in her throat, mouth watering at the filth transmitted through her earbuds. She watched as Jason’s hand moved from the base of his cock to its head, his wrist twisting. He searched for a speed, but was indecisive with the way his hips shot up sharply, thrusting into his hand. The wet skin sound filling y/n’s earbuds was fucking dirty, and she knew she had to shower right after finishing the livestream - she wanted to see him come, hear the euphoric, obscene noises leaving his mouth.

“Fuck” Jason grunted, holding his cock with one hand, and the other roaming his torso and thighs. “Oh, shit, you feel amazing.” his words were so intent, sincere, as if he imagined someone actually riding his cock - or it was y/n who was projecting her desires onto him, wishing she could straddle his lap and be the source of his pleasure, bouncing on his dick until she milked him dry.

“Oh,” Jason barely pushed through gritted teeth, “Keep going, y/n” he whispered, brows furrowing. Y/n stopped and blinked at the screen, doubting what her senses told her she heard. “Please, please, y/n…” he said it again, this time in a plea that sent y/n’s mind reeling into another dimension as she wanted to touch herself, but wanted, more than anything, to drive Jason over the edge.

His breaths fell staggered, jerking at his cock hard as his bottom lip trembled. “God, I wanna come. Your pussy is so good,” he admitted, eyes screwed shut, “so fucking good.” his speed became erratic, frantically searching for God in a moment’s release, and y/n was right there with him, her panties soaked from the heavenly torturous sight in front of her. She wanted to tell him to come, tell him how good he feels driving his cock into her, continuously, and how badly she wanted to sit on his pretty face until she screamed.

“Shit! Oh, fuck, god.” Jason exclaimed, profanities slipping him like a ghost leaving his vessel as spurts of cum erupted from his cock, body stilling. He thrusted into his hand once more before finally relaxing, catching his breath in a laugh.

He looked down at the mess of cum he made on his pelvic bone and torso, a splash landing all the way to his neck, and he shook his head. “Wow. Hadn’t had that much in a long time. I hope you enjoyed it as much as I did. See you later.” Jason smirked, propping himself on his elbows and biting his lip before the livestream ended.

Y/n sat in front of the computer screen with glossy eyes. She was his spank bank. She was. The reality set in, and it finally clicked.

But before she could allow herself to feel relief, free from the shackles of rejection in which she imprisoned herself, y/n quickly moved to her feet and grabbed her phone from the other side of the room to check the notification she dismissed earlier:

Jason. Hey, I hope I wasn’t too rude, but I don’t want to pursue any- (½) Y/n opened the message, careless of the read receipt that would be sent to him. -anything sexual, since that’s my job, and I’ve been used before. I hope that doesn’t ruin anything with you, because I do think you’re special, but I understand if it does. I’m here if you want a second date.

Y/n skimmed over the text, and reread it to check if her senses failed her once more. I hope that doesn’t ruin anything with you, she repeated. I do think you’re special. Y/n smiled widely as she opened up the keyboard to reply:

I thought I was too much. Usually am.

She rested her back against the wall, waiting for a response. Already, it shown as read, and the bubbles appeared at the bottom of their chat.

It’s not your fault, I should have clarified from the start. Are you free this weekend?

Y/n felt the melting of the glacier in her chest, and the cooling of the heat between her legs. She gathered her thoughts for a response:

I think I am on Sunday.

Jason’s reply was instantaneous, and y/n was thankful games were off the table for them.

Meet me at the Gotham library?

Y/n smiled. Fuck yeah.

It’s a date. Jason replied, the three words launching y/n into orbit.

So much of an orbit that she hadn’t proofread her response. Btw, saw your livestream.

Y/n regretted it instantly, eyes blown wide and apprehension rising in her.

The bubbles came up on the phone screen before disappearing, then reappearing again. Y/n cursed to herself as she waited. Finally: Good. You looked absolutely stunning at breakfast. Wanted to eat you instead of the omelet.

Maybe y/n could get used to this, after all.

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