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leclercss · 10 months

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Tainted Love, Part 1 (Charles Leclerc)

Masterlist

plot: in an attempt to fix your marriage, you've reluctantly agreed into being in an open relationship with your husband. so far, it's only been your husband that has taken advantage of your recent arrangement until one night out you meet a man who makes you begin to question your marriage.

pairings: charles leclerc x fem!reader

warnings: (+18) mentions of smut, cheating and some swearing

authors note: this is based on a story that i was writing in my spare time but thought it would be interesting to use Charles and a couple of other drivers as characters instead. so Charles is used as a character inspo rather than it including his life as an f1 driver. would love to hear your thoughts and if you'd be open for a part 2. i'm thinking of making this a longer fic.

word count: 4.8k

"[Y/N!]”

You don't really hear your name being called at first. You've been stuck in your own thoughts for the last five minutes, staring at nothing in particular.

"[Y/N]!" It's a little louder this time but still not enough to knock you out of the deep trance you've found yourself in. It's only when you get an elbow into your side and the champagne that's in your hand falls onto your lap that you finally snap out of it.

"Shit!' you squeal as you look down at the champagne that now soaks the bottom of your dress.

"Oh my God! I'm so sorry," the girl beside you laughs, "We've been trying to your attention for the last minute."

You look up at her, eyebrows furrowed. You can't remember her name. Was it Bethany? Stephanie? You didn't care, to be honest. It didn't really matter anyway; she wasn't your friend. You were only here as you were roped into pre-drinks before a girls' night out by your best friend, who was the only person you know here.

"It's fine, I was totally out of it," you mumble as you reach out for a napkin to dry the bottom of your dress.

"No shit," you hear a familiar voice say with a hint of smugness. You look across the table and see your best friend Whitney holding back a smirk. "You're on your fourth glass of champagne. I'd be out of it too if I was drinking as quickly as you've been".

You chuckle half-heartedly. Laughing it off as if it was the bottle of Moet that you mostly managed to get through on your own which caused you to be zoned out for so long. Not the fact that you’ve been replaying the arguments that you’ve been having with your husband over the last few weeks in your head. Nor the fact that you’ve been thinking about your shambles of a marriage.

As Whitney takes her attention off you to start cleaning up the mess, you let out a little sigh to yourself and go back to your previous thoughts.

How had your marriage gotten to this point?

You had been so in love with your husband when you first met. In fact, he’d been the only person you had ever been in love with. There was a ten-year age gap between the two of you but that hadn’t stopped you both falling for each other so quickly. He was one of the first people you had gotten to know when you first moved to London six years ago. You’d met on a night out about three months after moving to the city. The physical attraction was instant but that blossomed into something much deeper and within two years you had gotten married. He was your rock, your entire world. And maybe that was a bit of a risk for a girl, who at that point was in her early twenties, to depend on somebody so much and so quickly.

You had a few sceptics when it came to your relationship back in the early days. A few friends from back home had told you it was just a whirlwind romance with a hot older guy. Your mother had been unsure about the age gap. What would a girl in her early twenties need from a man in his early thirties? And what would a man in his early thirties need from a woman in her early twenties?

Your brother had joked that it was probably daddy issues.

You married him anyway. And the first two years of marriage had been bliss. Until about eighteen months ago when things had started to change. Your husband spent more time away from home (he said it was work related), the sex had become less regular (not by a lack of trying on your part) and you slowly started to feel like a spare part in your marriage.

You started to have a feeling that someone else was now involved in your marriage. And that feeling was unofficially confirmed to you when your husband had brought up the possibility of having an open relationship - basically, he could fuck whoever he wanted, and you couldn’t (and wouldn’t) complain about it. You reluctantly agreed. You loved your husband, and you were willing to make this sacrifice if it means that you could start to repair your marriage. But you were so wrong.

Deep down you knew that you were never going to leave him. And your husband knew that too. Six months into your “open relationship” and your husband had been taking full advantage of the arrangement. Meanwhile, you took the opposite approach and hadn’t slept with anyone outside of your marriage. Despite that, your jealousy grew towards your husbands’ new partners and your loyalty was wearing thin. You had initially been quiet about your doubts when it came to your arrangement. But lately you had been more vocal to your husband about your feelings. Of course, he dismissed those feelings. That’s why you were arguing lately. He had told you that it was something you both needed in your marriage, you guys were too dependent on one other. You told him that you should be enough for him, you didn’t need other people to fill whatever void he was feeling. But you were beginning to realise that maybe you weren’t enough for him.

“Oi! Snap out of it. I’ve poured you another glass. But you better drink it quickly. And fix your dress because the Uber is getting here in ten minutes,” Whitney scolds as she shoves the champagne glass back into your hand.

“Thanks, Whit.” You can’t help but smile at her. Apart from your husband, Whitney had been your only other source of love and stability during your years in London. And that was why she had dragged you out tonight to pull you out of your recent misery.

“You know what you need? A girl’s night out! And before you roll your eyes and tell me how you’re officially too old for clubbing, we’re going out. You need to spend time with someone else other than him. And it’s been so long since you’ve been shitfaced,” is what Whitney had said when you had told her that you and your husband had been arguing more and more these days. You still hadn’t told her about the open marriage thing. She’d never forgive you for agreeing to it.

You flash her a smile before downing your last glass of champagne. Despite your hesitation, maybe a girls’ night out was what you needed.

“To getting shitfaced!” you yell before throwing the hard liquor down your throat. You try not to gag as you slam the empty shot glass down on the bar. Despite your previous doubts of this girl’s night out, you had been having a good time. It wasn’t your usual scene, but you had made an effort to join in and found yourself in a tipsy but playful mood.

“Come on, Stephanie has found a group of hot guys who’ve got a table,” Whitney shouts in your ear. You look at her and giggle, “Seriously?”

“Seriously! Now come on, I think they’re French.”

You allow yourself to be dragged over to the table where the other girls were mingling and flirting with a group of guys. You take a quick glance; they look about two or three years younger than you. Not your type (there was no harm in looking) but they were definitely good-looking.

“This is my friend Whitney, she’s single by the way. And this is her friend, [Y/N},” you hear Stephanie tell them. “But she’s married”.

One of the guys looks at you and lets out a laugh, “What a shame. Lucky guy”. You try to fake a smile at his remark, but your mind momentarily flashes back to your husband.

Rather than trying to come up with a response, you look around the table for something to drink. “Who’s up for some shots?” you ask before grabbing whatever alcohol you can find on the table. God, the hangover is going to be deadly tomorrow.

Just as you’re about to pour yourself something, you feel someone lean over to place a tray of Jager bombs on the table in front of you. “Did someone say shots?” he shouts before being met with a round of cheers. Before you have a chance to look up, the guy has sat down beside you. He leans over and whispers in your ear, “Weren’t you just doing tequila at the bar?” His breath is hot in your ear, his accent even hotter.

“Didn’t know there was a limit to how many shots a girl could have,” you tease, your playful mood apparent.

As you turn to face him, you’re met with a pair of piercing green eyes staring back at you. Fuck, they’re gorgeous. He’s said something to you but you’re too busy staring into his eyes that’s you have no idea what he’s said to you. “Huh?”

You only break eye contact with him as you notice his eyes start to scan your face, most notably he’s looking at your lips before lowering his eyes towards your cleavage. His eyes stay there for a moment before he’s looking into your eyes again. A knot begins to tie in your stomach.

You feel yourself starting to blush at the intense eye contact when you see his mouth start to move again. You really have no clue what he’s said this time.

“I’m sorry, what?”

He chuckles. He quickly scans your face again, smirk still intact, before leaning over to your ear once more. “I said, there’s no limit as long as it doesn’t stop me dancing with you later.”

As he leans back, you can’t help but admire his face. He has a light amount of facial hair, making his somewhat boyish face slightly more mature and handsome. You notice his dimples as he continues to smirk at you before taking a not-so-subtle glance at his lips. As you look back up at his eyes, you realised your staring is painfully obvious.

He leans over you and grabs two glasses from the tray of shots, handing you one. His eyes are back on yours again as he clinks his glass against yours, “Cheers!” You down the shot, wincing in the process before slamming the glass back on the table. “That was disgusting,” you groan before letting out a giggle.

You look back at the Frenchman who’s smiling at you. “Now I’ve gotten you a drink, are you going to tell me your name?” he asks. As he does so, he leans in slightly, so his face is a little closer to yours.

“It’s [Y/N],” you reply. “And yours?”

But before he has a chance to respond, the guy sitting behind your drinking companion leans over and chuckles, “Leave the girl alone, Charles. She’s married,” before turning back to his previous conversation. The beautiful man in front of you, who you’re assuming is Charles, looks back at you. “Married, huh?” He doesn’t look phased.

You nod. “And he’s not with you tonight?”

“No, it’s girls’ night. No husbands or boyfriends allowed,” you reply.

“And what other rules do you have on these girls’ nights?”

“Get as drunk as humanly possible with a group of hot guys.”

You’ve spent quite a while talking to Charles. He’s still flirting with you, lightly pushing the boundaries of “I know you’re married”. You’ve learned he’s from Monaco, not France. And he’s been living in London for about a year with a group of his friends from back home. He’s single (you’re not entirely sure how when he looks like that) and he’s better at handling his alcohol than you are.

You’ve spent a short amount of time getting to know some of his friends. His best friend Joris has been getting cosy with Whitney. You didn’t even get a chance to learn one guy’s name before he had started making out with Stephanie. The others you’re too drunk to remember they’re even here. However, your attention always falls back on Charles. And his attention always falls back on you.

You hadn’t even spared a thought about your husband until you saw your phone light up. First you notice your phone background, a picture of you and your husband kissing in front of the Eiffel Tower (and you’re aware that Charles is looking at your phone too). Then his name pops up on your screen. You glance at the message through your alcohol-blurred vision. It says something along the lines of how your night was going and if you were coming back home tonight. You roll eyes before swiping away the message.

“Husband?” Charles asks you. His finger has been tracing your knee for the last few minutes. You nod, trying to push the face of your husband to the back of your mind.

“Yeah, nothing important.”

Charles smiles at you. “How long have you two been married?”

“Four years, together for six.”

“Six years, you must have been late teens when you got together right?” you think it’s his attempt of saying you look good for your late twenties (as if that’s old). But it works on you momentarily, or it’s the fact that the finger tracing your leg has now turned into a hand.

“Well, I was twenty-one. He’s ten years older,” you tell him.

“And how’s that going? Is he okay with these girls’ nights out?”

You’re not sure why he’s quizzing you. It’s probably because of the face you pulled when you saw your husband’s name pop up on your screen. Or the fact that you haven’t mentioned him once all night. Most girls Charles has come across quickly name-drop their partner into conversations quite quickly if they aren’t interested but not you. Your body language has changed since the mention of your husband. And you’ve only been giving short answers when being questioned about him which tells Charles that your husband may be the reason you’re here tonight.

“He has his nights out, I have mine,” you lie before having a quick look around the table. “I’m not here to talk about married life.”

You momentarily look back to Charles who seems a bit taken back by your bluntness before looking back across at Whitney who’s no longer being occupied by Joris. “Whitney, can we go dancing?”

“Let’s do it!”

You stand up from your seat and look down at Charles. “I’m going to go dance. Whenever you want to do another shot come grab me,” you tell him before Whitney takes your arm and leads you to the dance floor. You feel a bit rude for ending your conversation with Charles so abruptly. But you weren’t here to spend the night talking about a man you’re trying to avoid.

Swaying your hips to the music and dancing with your best friend was exactly what you needed. The alcohol was well and truly coursing through your body at this point and it gave you the confidence you needed to feel sexy on the dancefloor. You weren’t a bad dancer by any means, but the numerous shots and glasses of champagne were a big help.

Whitney had reunited with Joris on the dancefloor, grinding and making out with one another. You didn’t mind dancing on your own. You were lost in the rhythm of the music, attracting some bystanders who you subtly moved away from when they got too close.

That was until you felt someone place their arm around your waist from behind. The hand felt familiar, but you couldn’t quite place it until you felt a mouth press against your ear. “You were looking a little lonely, thought I’d come and join you.”

You could get used to that voice whispering in your ear.

You look up at him and smile, “How thoughtful of you, Charles.” You were a little too drunk to care about the fact that his other hand found itself around your waist, pulling your body towards gently towards him. Mostly because you were enjoying it.

You felt his torso press against your back, and you leaned against his body as his hips joined yours in swaying to the music. As the both of you found your rhythm, you pressed your ass against his crotch and grinded a little harder on him. Truly letting yourself get lost in the moment with him. You think you hear Whitney cheer at the sight in front of her, but your only focus is on your movements against Charles. You feel one of his hands slide from your waist towards your ass, squeezing it a little before running it back up your waist to just below your breasts.

Fuck, that felt good.

You lean the back of your head against Charles’ chest and peer up at him through your lashes. He’s looking down at you and slowly moves his face towards yours, hips still moving in synchronisation. You look into his eyes, his attention fully on you before you take a quick glance at his lips. They’re slightly parted and if you didn’t have a slight nagging voice in the back of your head you totally would have kissed him. You’re suddenly nervous, you haven’t felt like this with a guy since you first met your husband. It’s new territory but it excites you. Is this why your husband wanted an open relationship? For the thrill and excitement of being so close and almost intimate with someone that wasn’t you?

Charles notices that you’ve gotten lost in your thoughts but wants your attention back on him. He lifts your chin with his thumb, so your face is closer to his and mimics your actions from a few moments ago – looking into your eyes before looking at your lips. You can feel his breath hitting your face and so you lick your lips. If he wants to kiss you, he’s going to have to make the first move.

He senses this and leans in; your parted lips meet his. You’re not sure if it’s nerves but it’s almost like you’ve forgotten how to kiss. The feeling of Charles’ lips against yours has caused all thoughts and logic to leave your body. You’re thankful that he takes the initiative once again and starts to move his lips against yours. You find your momentum again as your place one of your arms behind your head and place your hands on Charles’ cheek, your back still firmly pressed against his torso. As you continue to kiss, you notice that his crotch is still placed firmly against your ass, the bulge in his pants is slightly harder this time and it causes you to feel a slight tingle in your underwear.

As your kiss becomes more passionate, Charles turns you around so you’re face to face. He cups your cheeks with one of his hands, his thumb firmly under your chin and he reconnects your lips together. This time he slips his tongue into your mouth, and it begins to move against yours. The tingly sensation in your underwear is back again and it causes you to moan against Charles mouth. You can feel him smile against your lips, but it doesn’t stop him, it only encourages him to deepen this kiss even further. It’s like you’re the only two people in the room. Your body is tightly pressed against his, slowly tracing his chest with your fingers while Charles’ hands are covering as much body surface as possible. The hand that was cupping your cheek is now on your breast, his thumb grazing over the area where your nipple is. You’re not wearing a bra, so your nipple hardens at his touch, causing him to smile into your kiss once again. His other hand is very low on your back, his fingers spread across the top of your bum.

You’re not sure how long you’ve been kissing for, it could be thirty seconds or thirty minutes but you don’t want to stop. One of your hands finds its way into his silky brown hair and you tug on it lightly. In retaliation, he squeezes one your bum cheeks. This time you’re the one smiling against his lips.

After what feels like an eternity, you both part from the kiss. Your eyes meet his and it feels like you’re in a trance with him. All you can do is just look at him, only him. You’re not sure how long you’ve been standing like this, your hands on his chests, his on your waist. Once again, it’s Charles that takes the initiative but this time in conversation.

He leans down to your ear, your body lightly pressed against his. “Do you want to come back with me tonight?” He leans his head back slightly to gage your reaction. You quickly lick your lips. Your body is telling you to say yes – the tingle in your underwear is only getting bigger. But your head is pounding and you’re not able to open your mouth. The only thing you can do is move and so you move one of your hands from his chest up to Charles’ cheek, your thumb slow soothing the soft skin beneath you.

He's still waiting for an answer. His green eyes staring into yours.

As you finally muster up the courage to speak you feel you feel a strange hand placed on your shoulder. You jump slightly at the sudden touch of contact which clearly isn’t from Charles and turn your head into the direction it came from. Stephanie, the queen of impeccable timing, is smiling at you. She’s saying something to you but you’re not really paying attention.

Only until she starts waving your phone in front of your face do you realise what she’s saying. You thank her before taking your phone and looking at the screen.

It’s your husband. Out of all the nights he could have given you attention, it had to be tonight. You quickly look at your phone and see a missed call accompanied by three or four more unread texts. From a quick glance, you see he’s a bit concerned that you hadn’t responded to his previous message telling him what time you’d been home. He’d never usually ask so it’s a bit baffling to you why he’d suddenly care now. Then again, it’s the first “girls’ night” you’d gone out to in about two years. And you remembered the arguments you guys had been having for the past few weeks and the way you stormed out of the flat this morning.

And what you didn’t realise is that he had seen you pack one of your more revealing dresses in anger when you told him you were going out with Whitney and a few of her girlfriends tonight.

He was worried. Not about you. But about what you might be doing.

“Is everything okay?” Charles voice brings you back to reality and you look up at him for the first time since Stephanie had given you your phone. You hope he hasn’t seen you gulp but he has. He notices a flicker of hesitation in your eyes.

You nod and smile at him, but he’s not convinced. Your husband’s messages have brought you back to reality and your body language has become closed off. You’re no longer touching Charles. He removes his hands from your waist and you’re both left standing there awkwardly on the dancefloor.

You open your mouth to say something but at first nothing comes out. You let out a deep breath before you finally allow yourself to speak, “I can’t. I’m… I’m married, Charles.” He breaks eye contact with you and place his hands into his jean pockets. He’s nodding but doesn’t really say anything.

You both stand there awkwardly for a few moments before you speak again, “I think I need to go. I’m sorry, Charles”. You lean up to place a soft kiss on his cheek. His posture softens a little bit, but he’s disappointed.

“Don’t worry about it,” he says. It sounds a little deflated and you can’t help but feel guilty. Moments before Stephanie had handed you your phone, you would have easily said yes to anything Charles would have asked you but now you find yourself in a weird mindset. You’re curious and you want to know what going home with him feels like, but your husbands’ messages are now imprinted in your brain. And so, you take the easier option which is to go home to your husband and be the loyal wife you’ve talked yourself into being for the last eighteen months.

“Have a good night, Charles,” you say softly before flashing a sympathetic smile. You turn away to leave the dancefloor when you feel Charles’ hand wrap around your arm. He tugs you back towards him and grabs your phone out of your hand. He gestures for you to put in your pin, and you oblige. He takes your phone once again and taps away on the keyboard before handing your phone back to you. You look at your screen to see he’s put his number into your phone.

“For whenever you need another “girls’ night”,” he whispers into your ear before letting you leave.

You quickly search for Whitney to let her know that you’re leaving before ordering an Uber home. As you hug Whitney goodbye, she leans in and whispers, “I hope you had fun tonight. I won’t say anything”. And you know she’s referring to the kiss that you’ve shared with Charles not so long ago. You thank her before making your way out of the club and getting into the Uber which arrives a few minutes later.

You rest your head against the window as you the Uber takes you through the busy London streets. You can’t help but feel disappointed with how your night ended and your mind flashes back to the look on Charles’ face when you told him you were leaving. A part of you wishing you had stayed.

You let out a little sigh and shut your eyes, pushing the image of Charles and the feeling of his lips against yours to the back of your head before opening your eyes again. Your phone lights up, catching your attention and you see a text from Whitney asking if you had made it home yet. You scroll down a little further on your notifications to see the unread text messages and missed calls from your husband.

You unlock your phone and start to type up your replies.

The first text.

Whitney: Just in the Uber now, be home in 20 x

The second text.

Lewis ♥: Staying at Whitney’s tonight. I’ll be home before noon tomorrow. Love you xx

You close your conversation with your husband and click on the + icon to open a new message. You let out another sigh before you begin typing the message.

To Charles: Hey, it’s [Y/N]. We didn’t get to finish our dance, mind if I come to yours? X

Your thumb hovers over the send button. You’ve typed your message, now all you have to do is send the it. Shit! You’re such a coward. You tell yourself that if you count to five you’ll send the message. Okay…

5…

4…

3…

2…

1…

Sent.

You quickly lock your phone out of embarrassment and throw it onto the seat beside you. Shit, why did you just do that? You refuse to look at your phone and tell yourself it was a dumb idea to message Charles. You just need to get home, get to bed and pretend like it never happened.

It’s about fifteen or so minutes later and you’re only a few streets away from your apartment. You’ve told yourself not to look at your phone but at the same time you’re curious to see if Charles has responded.

You pick up your phone quickly and see a couple of texts.

First from Whitney:

Text me when you’re in. Love you! Thanks so much for a great night xxx

Then from your husband:

Okay, text me if you need me to pick you up in the morning. Night, love you x

But it’s the third message that piques your interest the most. From Charles:

You changed your mind? We’re on the way home now. Here’s my address if you’re still up for it? X

You can’t help but smile to yourself. As the Uber driver pulls up outside of your apartment building, you look up towards your apartment window, the curtains are closed but a flicker of light is breaking out from the lamp on inside. Knowing Lewis is awake prompts you to make your next decision and you hand your phone to the Uber driver.

“Sorry, I need to go to this address instead”.

The Uber drive grunts at you but he begrudgingly types in the new address before pulling off. You can’t help but smile to yourself as he drives away from your building , and you let out a little giggle as excitement starts to course through your body. That tingly sensation is back as you type your next text:

Charles: I’m on my way x

#charles leclerc #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #charles leclerc x you #f1 x you

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alotofpockets · 7 months

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Crush | Leighton Murray

Pairing: Leighton Murray x Jock!Reader

Summary: Whitney notices Leighton's crush on her fellow soccer player and decides to get them together. [Full request]

Masterlist | Reneé Rapp Masterlist | Words: 1.4k

Over the past couple of weeks Whitney noticed Leighton showing up at soccer practice more and more often. She always seemed to have some excuse to be there, so at first Whitney didn’t think much of seeing her roommate sitting on the bleachers and just went to her to see what she needed but over time the excuses started to get less and less convincing.

That’s when Whitney noticed who the blondes eyes kept lingering on. She smirked to herself, thinking of how to tease Leighton about her little crush when she was done with practice.

Leighton looks up from her homework when she hears footsteps approaching her. "Oh, hey Whit, done already?" She says casually. "Just a 10 minute water break." Whitney says as she sits down next to the girl. "So, don't worry, you have more time to stare at y/n in a minute." Leighton looks away from Whitney's piercing eyes. "I don't know what you're talking about." Leighton responds.

Unintentionally, Leighton's eyes fall on you again. Her mouth falls open as she sees you lift up your shirt to wipe the sweat off your face, which puts your abs on full display. "Nice try, Murray, you're drooling right now."

That's when you look their way. Leighton quickly closes her mouth but you had already noticed her staring. You wave to her with a smirk on your face. Leighton waves back, her smile a lot less smug. What is happening? She thought. She was never nervous around people. "Oh, you're crushing so hard." Whitney says as she gets back up, to go back to practice.

Later that afternoon, back at the dorm, everyone sits down in the common room. "You'll never guess what happened at practice today." Whitney says, grabbing everyone's attention instantly. Leighton rolls her eyes at the giddiness in Whitney's eyes. Bela and Kimberly look between Leighton and Whitney sharing looks. "Well, come on, don't leave us hanging." Bela interrupts the intense nonverbal conversation.

"Ugh, fine. Go ahead" Leighton says in defeat, knowing they were going to get it out of Whitney one way or another. "Leighton is crushing on a girl from my soccer team." Kimberly squeals, "Oh my god, that is so exciting. Who is it?" Leighton decides to give in and share. "It's y/n." This time it's Bela's turn to squeal. "Wow, Leigh, I didn't know you were into jocks. She has killer abs!" Whitney jumps in, "Oh, Leighton was drooling over them earlier. I think she is very aware of those." Leighton starts blushing, her love life was never on display like this. "Okay, that's enough, thank you."

Leighton seemed to be the only one not having plans for tonight as one by one her roommates left the dormroom. She decided to change into some more comfortable clothes. She settles on the couch and decides to work on her homework, she's only a couple of questions in when she hears a knock on the door.

Leighton opens the door and there you are. She didn't know who she expected on the other side of the door but it certainly wasn't you. "Oh, hi, y/n." She greets you. "Whitney isn't here, she left like half an hour ago." You give her a puzzled look. "I'm not here for Whit, I'm here for you. However, by the sound of it, you were not expecting me." Leighton looks down at her outfit, "Yeah, if I knew I would be having company tonight I wouldn't be wearing this."

You sent a dashing smile her way, "Well, I think you look great. So, let's not worry about that, shall we?" Leighton shakes her head in response. "Yeah, I guess it's too late to worry now anyways. Now, tell me, what exactly are you here for?" She asks stepping back so you can enter the dormroom. "I'm kind of struggling in my math class this year, and Whit said you're really good at it. She said you'd tutor me but since you know nothing about it, I think we have been set up."

That's when Leighton starts getting nervous. Set up? If you thought this was a set up, did you like her too? She decides to put her nerves aside and ask. "Set up how?" Her question gets another smirk out of you. "I've seen you in the bleachers, Leigh. You're not exactly subtle while checking me out on the field." Leighton is quick to look away from the challenging eye contact you are trying to hold. When you notice a blush creeping on your cheeks you add on to your sentence. "On the other hand, you might not have seen me checking you out the moments you were actually doing your homework while you're sitting there." Leighton's eyes meet yours again, she's searching for any sign of a lie on your face but she can't find one. "Oh." Is all she manages to get out. Seriously, what was happening? She thought. What's wrong with me? She was always the confidence herself but around you she was quite the opposite.

You decide to give making Leighton flustered a rest. “So, are you down to help me? It’s okay if not.” Leighton is quick to answer, “Yeah, of course. Let’s sit.” You sit down on the couch and grab your stuff. You are pleasantly surprised by Leighton’s math knowledge and are very grateful that she’s willing to help you. Leighton on her turn was gaining more and more confidence the longer she spent sitting by your side.

Leighton asked to borrow your pencil to write something down on your paper. She explained what she was doing as she continued to solve the problem in front of you. To your surprise, you actually understood what she was saying, so you nodded along. She handed you back the pencil, your hands lingering longer than needed. You smile before asking if you could take a small break. “Yeah, of course, do you want anything? I can grab you a drink or something.” Without a second thought you answer her question. “What I want is to kiss you. Is that offer also on the table?” The blush rushes back to Leighton’s cheeks. “Okay, that was smooth.” She laughs. “And yes, that is definitely on the table.”

You reach out your hand and place a loose strand of hair behind her ear, letting your hand linger on her cheek as you lean in. Your lips meet in a soft kiss. Her lips feel amazing, you think to yourself as you deepen the kiss. The tutor session was quickly forgotten as you’re making out on the couch.

After you lay comfortably on the couch with Leighton in your arms. “Want to prank Whitney with me?” Leighton asks as she is playing with your hand. “For sure, what do you have in mind?” She explains her plans before you have to head out. Before you leave though, you share a sweet kiss with her. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Later that night when Whitney walks into the dormroom she is instantly met with an annoyed looking Leighton. “What the actual fuck, Whitney? You can’t just tell people I will tutor them without asking me if I am willing to do that.” She doesn’t even leave room for Whitney to respond before walking into her room and slamming the door shut.

Leighton was already out of the dorm when Whitney woke up, she had an early class. The rest of the day went on and Whitney didn’t see Leighton anywhere. That was until practice started and she saw Leighton sitting in the bleachers again. Whitney took that as her chance to apologize, so she made her way up. “Hey, Leighton, I’m really sorry. I thought it would just be a harmless thing, my intention wasn’t to hurt you.”

You noticed Whitney heading your way so you followed her up, like the plan you had discussed. “Hey Whit.” You greet your friend. Then you sit next to Leighton and put your arm around her before kissing her. Whitney’s eyes widened. “Oh my god, you are so mean! My plan totally worked.” You both burst out laughing. “Yes, it did work. You still needed to learn your lesson though. “Fair enough, I am just glad that the two of you found each other.” Whitney says before walking off. You kiss Leighton once more before heading back to the field. It was nice seeing her in the bleachers knowing that she was there for you and only you.

#leighton murray #leighton murray x reader #tslocg #the sex lives of college girls #whitney chase #essex #leighton murray imagine

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dolccreme · 6 days

Text

it would be so funny to take advantage of the fact kylar is spying on us via the owl teddy bear.

pc has already escaped being kidnapped and decided to keep the camera up just to fuck with him lol

but imagine being in your most vulnerable moments. you're so worn down and tired and literally theres no one who you can turn to right now. you're too tired to walk, you don't even have the energy to even consider moving from your bed.

and knowing kylar is watching and listening should feel like an absolute breach of privacy (it literally is) but at that moment you just want someone to listen and fucking vent.

and so you do. you talk about everything - normal stuff at school, things that annoy you, things that made you smile that day, and of course, things that hurt you. you try not to speak too loudly in case other orphans might still be awake but knowing kylar, he's probably got the most expensive and state of the art equipments just to pick up on subtle noises in your room,,,, especially from you.

you break down, sniffling and crying. and once you get it all out of your system, you thank him and bid him good night.

the next day is literally just as if nothing is amiss. you wake sydney up from the temple and walk to school together, let whitney do whatever he wants with you (make you give him a blowjob for the second time in a row goddamit whitney—), and walk home with robin.

kylar doesn't get jealous. even at lunch when you've decided to sit next to sydney. in fact he looks smug.

after all, you might cozy up to other people during the day time. you give them all your attention but at the end of the day, who gets to see you in your most vulnerable state? who gets to listen to your woes and fears and pains when everyone else has already fallen asleep and fucked right off to dreamland?

that's right. him.

#kylar the loner #degrees of lewdity kylar #dol kylar #i just think it would be neat to be able to break down in your room at high trauma especially after knowing kylar is spying on you #i love my obsessed little freak shdhdh

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propertyofwhitney67 · 2 months

Text

Little Kitten

M!Whitney x AFAB!Reader

TW: smut, pet play, mention of kidnapping, kinda yandere Whitney

Words:1,070

𝘔𝘺 𝘓𝘪𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘗𝘦𝘵 - (𝘐𝘯𝘴𝘱𝘰 𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘵)

Note: Note: A continuation of My Little Pet. I chose to use kitty instead of puppy bc puppy makes me uncomfortable for some reason.

Also thank you so fucking much for 300 followers! You guys are amazing! I'm sorry this took so long to write. <3

It’s not so bad being Whitney’s pet, he takes care of me and keeps me safe. He even gets me toys and cute outfits. They look expensive, but he tells me not to worry about that. He only wants the best for his kitty, which includes clothes, toys, and food.

Being here is the happiest and safest I’ve ever felt.

I was napping lazily on Whitney’s bed with the tv on in the background when he opened his bedroom door, throwing down his bag and looking around for me. I stretched lazily, catching his attention and making him smile. “There’s my kitty.” He cooed and patted me on the head, fully waking me up.

I sat up and smiled at Whitney as he changed out of his school clothes. “Did you have a good day?” I asked him like any good pet would.

He grunted and tossed his shirt in the hamper, “Fucking sucked.” Once he was fully naked he laid down on the bed, patting his lap. “Come on kitty.” I crawled up to where he was and sat on his lap. “You know that’s not what I meant.” He tugged at my collar, “Don’t act stupid, Y/n.” I whined and nodded the best I could with his grip on the collar around my neck. He smiled smugly and released his grip on my collar.

I did as he wanted, sitting on his lap and cockwarming him. “Always ready for me.” He groaned lowly as I easily took him with no prep. He wrapped an arm around my waist as I rested my head on his chest.

“Do you want to talk about it?” I asked as he grabbed his phone. He obviously had a rough day, but I didn’t want to anger him by asking about it too much.

He sighed, and I felt his body relax some. “No, not really. I just want to relax with my pet.” He kissed the top of my head and tightened his grip around my waist.

It didn’t take long for me to become impatient. I wanted him to fuck me, but he just kept playing on his phone. “Whitney…” I whined and tried to bounce in his lap, but he stopped me. Grabbing me by the hips and holding me down.

“Impatient slut.” He grumbled angrily, still painfully gripping my hips. “Good kitties ask their owner for permission. Do I have to put you in your cage?”

I whined again and shook my head, “No, please.” I didn’t want to go in the cage, I wanted to be on the bed with him. “I’m sorry…”

“If you’re really sorry, you’d show it.” He had that smug look on his face and lifted me off his lap and tossed me onto the bed. He hovered over me, caging me in with his arms. “Now be a good kitty,” He leaned in close and whispered in my ear, “and serve your owner.” I cried out in surprise as he bit down hard on the neck with his sharp teeth. He only chuckled in response, enjoying my shock and pain.

I held the spot on my neck where he bit me and pouted, “I am a good kitty…”

“Then do as you’re told, I trained you better than this.” He retorted and trailed his hands down my body before stripping me of the frilly lingerie I was wearing. “So perfect…” He mumbled under his breath, groping my chest before pinching my nipple.

I yelped and lightly smacked his hand away. “Tease…” I muttered, feeling my face heat up.

“Oh, I’m going to do more than tease.” He pinched me again before trailing his hands down my body and resting them on my thighs, pulling them apart and showing off my wet cunt. He smirked at the sight, “This wet from a little cockwarming? You’re such a slut.”

He gathered some of my wetness with his finger, “Open.” I obediently opened my mouth and sucked my juices off his finger. “Good girl.”

I hummed happily at his praise and released his finger with a pop sound. “If I’m such a good girl, I should get a reward.” I grinned mischievously, knowing he would give in.

He smirked before grabbing my thighs and pulling me closer. I could feel his cock throbbing against my thigh, “Who am I to deny such an obedient kitty.” He lined himself up before roughly thrusting into my wet cunt, forcing me to take him to the base. He groaned lowly into my ear while I dug my nails into his back.

Even after all this time, he still takes my breath away. It was like we were made for each other. He fits perfectly inside me. Or that’s what he tells me…his thoughts have become mine since he took me. All the training has taken a toll on my mind, sometimes I can’t tell the difference between his thoughts and mine.

I shook my head to rid myself of those thoughts. I’m his obedient kitty, nothing more.

“What’s wrong kitten?” Whitney’s voice broke me from my thoughts. He tapped on my forehead with his forefinger. “Thinking too hard?”

I frowned and nodded, “Yeah…” I felt slightly ashamed and embarrassed of my thoughts. “Sorry…” He takes such good care of me, I shouldn’t be thinking such things.

“You know what happens when you think too hard.” Whitney reminded me and I nodded sadly. He rubbed slow circles on my clit, “Good.”

I moaned at his touch, clenching down around him. “Whitney, please…” He knows exactly how to drive me crazy.

“Well, since you asked so nicely.” He grinned with a smug look on his face and didn’t hesitate to set a quick pace. My hips meeting his with every thrust.

It didn’t take long for me to cum, “Don’t stop...” I begged, wanting him to fuck me through my orgasm.

Whitney groaned in my ear, “Wasn’t planning on it kitten.” He bit my neck again, pulling more moans from me. The pain only intensified everything.

I wrapped my legs around his hips and he held me close, cumming inside me. “Fuck.” We both groaned as his warm cum filled me.

He didn’t bother puling out, just holding me close and resting his head on my chest, “I’m never letting you go.”

The rational side of me feared his words, but his training persisted. “I don’t ever want to leave.”

𝘔𝘢𝘴𝘵𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘵

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propertyofkylar · 7 months

Text

rescue - whitney x gn!pc

"Fuuuck."

Being attacked was nothing new in this town, obviously, but that didn't mean it didn't suck every time. You sucked in a raggedy breath as you leaned your head against the wall, trying to remember if you were supposed to tilt your head up or down when you had a nosebleed.

You'd manage to kick your attackers off and send them scrambling away, but you didn't leave without injuries of your own. Your ankle hurt too much for you to move right now, so you sat in the alley and hoped it would feel better soon so you could hobble home before someone else came after you. At least you still had another pepper spray canister - Kylar was good for some things. You almost wished that he would find you here. He had that knife, and he was sort of caring in an insane way...

It was then that you heard more footsteps coming down the alleyway. You tensed up and held out the pepper spray. "Don't fucking come another step closer," you called out, hoping your voice wasn't shaking as badly as you thought it was.

"That's so cute that you think that could stop me," a familiar voice came. You almost jumped up in surprise, but your ankle gave out and you crashed back down to the pavement.

"You could just say hi for once, Whitney," you groaned, turning your head so he wouldn't notice the nosebleed. It always felt humiliating for him to see you like that, especially because he enjoyed seeing you so weak.

"Wouldn't be as fun," you could hear the smirk in his voice. "You look like shit, slut."

You groaned again and turned to face him, feeling blood drip from your nose. "Thanks. I had no idea."

A brief look of what seemed like panic flashed on his face before his expression settled into his normal smug look, making you wonder if you were just seeing things. "The fuck happened to you?"

You didn't answer. You thought it was pretty obvious.

"Who did it? Where'd they go?" He looked around, as if the attackers were still right there. "Messing with my fucking property..."

"I don't fucking know. It doesn't matter," you sighed. You really weren't in the mood to deal with him at the moment for obvious reasons.

He paused for a moment. "Stay right there, slut."

"Whitney -" you started, but he was already gone. Fucking great. And not like you were going anywhere in this state anyway.

It wasn't too long before he came back, gripping a bunch of crumpled-up napkins in one hand and a cup in another. Whitney squatted down next to you and set the cup on the ground. It was a milkshake.

You tilted your head, silently asking him why. He rolled his eyes.

"You've got blood all over your face. Grabbed napkins from the cafe, and thought I might as well get something out of this," he moved the cup so it was pressed against your ankle, providing sweet relief. At the same time, he leaned in and took a hold of your chin, gently wiping your face.

"Be a good slut and hold still," he murmured. The intensity of his stare made you feel frozen in place, anyway.

The tender way he touched you reminded of you of when you were little and Robin would fall and skin his knee. You would sit next to him with a damp towel and gently wipe at the injury, soothing his tears. It was a nurturing sort of action - not at all what you would expect from Whitney.

Once Whitney was finished, he grabbed the milkshake and leaned against the wall, taking a sip. He wrapped one arm around your shoulder and with the other, offered you the cup, which you took with a small smile.

"Where are your friends?" You asked. It was rare to see him without a gang following him.

Whitney shrugged. "Ditched 'em. Looked like it might rain." That seemed to be all you would get out of him on that topic.

You sat and idly chatted as you shared the milkshake. When it had been drained, Whitney stood up.

"Alright. C'mere. Let's get you home," he said, reaching out a hand.

"Huh?" You blinked in surprise. Whitney rolled his eyes again.

"I'm not gonna leave my best slut alone and injured in an alley. The fuck would that do for me?" He hoisted you up and wrapped his arm around your waist. "Put your arm around my shoulder. And don't put weight on your ankle."

You did as he asked, considering there wasn't much else you could do. Besides, his arm felt nice around you.

Luckily, you weren't too far from the orphanage, so the walk wasn't awful. Resting had helped a lot, and your ankle honestly was barely hurting anymore. But Whitney still held you up, and you let him.

He paused out front and gave you an odd look. Suddenly, he sighed and looked away. "Just...be more careful next time. I can't be your knight in shining armor all the time."

You frowned. "I mean, it's not like I asked you. You kinda just showed up."

He shrugged. "You were in my alley." He paused again before leaning in to kiss you. His lips tasted like vanilla and stale cigarettes.

Then he pulled away and slapped your ass. "See ya tomorrow, slut," Whitney smirked as he walked away. "I'm expecting an extra good thanks for saving your life and shit."

You couldn't help but smile as you watched him leave.

#degrees of lewdity #dol #whitney the bully #dol whitney #writing #deleted and reposted bc it wasnt showing up in the tags n i crave validation #wrote this on a friday night all alone bc my partner has covid #more from your resident tsundere whitney truther #reminder that if you like my writing my ask is open feel free to send requests!!#and not just whitney ill do whatever u want #and if you dont like my writing. well. keep it to yourself :)

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velvetburnt · 23 days

Text

in which whitney hates flying

characters: m!whitney + gen!pc summary: bullying hubby whitney on the airplane :-) [public handjobs, edging, exhibitionism] warnings: none word count: 2387

These days, with his hefty salary as a neurosurgeon, Whitney acted as if spoiling you was his life's main goal. Sure, he'd never admit it outright, but to make up for your shitty starts at adulthood, broke and struggling to survive day to day, he worked hard to make damn sure the both of you got to live comfortably now. You had earned a peaceful epilogue.

Well, mostly peaceful. You were married to Whitney, after all. Married or not, you were his slut.

The two of you had gotten up and left your shitty excuse of a town the moment a solid enough chance had presented itself. But now, even as you lived in a much better, safer city, you quickly discovered you still enjoyed exploring. Your husband was more than happy to indulge you, so naturally, frequent trips and vacations were a given. Besides, he still liked visiting his uncle. On occasion, his uncle even came along on the vacations, like this one. It served as a.. bonding experience.

Whitney hefted the two heavy bags over his shoulder and snatched up the drink bottle leaning against his chair. A quick glance to his left and right confirmed his suspicions. His uncle was seated nearby, but you were nowhere to be seen. "Hey, slut--"

"Yeah?" Your head appeared from behind Whitney’s seat, smug grin adorning your features.

"Fuck! Every time! I should-" He jumped, running a hand through his hair to conceal his surprise before heaving out a sigh. Despite the years you'd been together, he never got used to the way you could move about so quietly.

And you, on the other hand, were always thoroughly pleased with yourself whenever you caught him unawares, in situations where he couldn't immediately punish you for it. It wouldn't do for him to end up in jail for public indecency now, after all.

"Time to go?"

"Yeah, yeah. Ready?"

You nodded.

.̩₊̣.̩✧*̣̩˚̣̣⁺̣‧.₊̣̇.‧⁺̣˚̣̣*̣̩⋆·̩̩.̩̥·̩̩⋆*̣̩˚̣̣⁺̣‧.₊̣̇.‧⁺̣˚̣̣*̣̩✧·.̩₊̣.̩

He really wasn’t a fan of the glint in your eyes at the moment. After all, he was intimately acquainted with the fact that a sly slut never boded well for him.

"So, I was thinking.." you began.

Whitney wasn't too fond of the drop in your tone, either.

"Do you want to play a game?"

You skimmed your fingers along Whitney's thigh, inching dangerously close to his crotch. He gave you a strained grin.

"You're on thin ice, slut." Whitney side-eyed the two old ladies seated directly to his right. They were immersed in a deep conversation with his uncle about something he really didn't care about. "...You're on."

Your smile was downright wicked.

"The game goes like this." You continued, kneading the inside of Whitney's upper thigh. “And you... sit... still... until I'm done."

Whitney grit his teeth. Ask him literally any other time, and he'd be all up for it. He would've even initiated something like this himself. But in this situation, if his uncle noticed... He really, really didn't need another hour long lecture from his relative about keeping things in the bedroom. He was on strike two already.

A brush against his crotch had Whitney tearing open the plastic-wrapped blanket as fast as he could and rushing to cover his lap up with it, although shoving your hand away would've been the sane thing to do. He wasn't a quitter though, hell no.

The older lady to his right glanced over at him. "You okay, sweetie?" She asked, concern creasing her brow. "It really is chilly in here, isn't it?"

Whitney coughed awkwardly into his hand and you noticed that it was far too forced to seem natural to anyone. The lady didn't seem to notice though.

"My friend and I," the woman next to her gave him a friendly smile and waved, "are visiting the states for the holidays. What about you? Business or pleasure?" She ended with a lighthearted giggle.

"Pleassssure-" Whitney hissed, directing a sharp glare at your expressionless face. You even had a large book open on your lap and were flipping through the pages with your left hand. Your right hand was busy with something entirely different. "We're here on pleasure." He reiterated. Well, maybe one of you was.

The woman's eyes widened in surprise, hand rising to cover her mouth. "Oh goodness!" She exclaimed. "I'm so sorry. I didn't notice you there!"

You looked up with a tilt of your head and smiled innocently at her in return, glancing at Whitney. "I get that a lot. It's okay." You could hear his uncle cackling.

Whitney was going to kill you. You, the bastard who had now managed to unzip his fly. The feathery light strokes across his clothed cock shouldn't have done anything for him. But the fact that he was stuck in his seat, conversing with four people with only a bunched up blanket between him turned him on beyond belief.

If only his uncle wasn't part of the conversation, he would've gladly taken a fine for public indecency for the sake of burying himself into your warm hole for the rest of the flight.

Your arm wasn't moving but your fingers sure as hell were. They alternated between light touches straight down the length of his cock to rougher presses along his base. It was proving enough of a distraction that Whitney completely missed the woman's next words in favor of clenching the armrest next to you in a death grip so he wouldn't end up hauling you on top of him to do it properly. Fucking hell. So you opted to answer for him.

“A neurosurgeon. My husband here likes to treat his family, see." Followed up with a lick of the lips that Whitney most definitely noticed as he unconsciously mimicked the gesture.

"Oh?" The woman questioned, intrigued now. Probably perked up at the mention of Whitney's career.

Whitney glanced up from his intense perusal of where he knew your hand was and noticed the slight frown marring the woman's face before her friend piped up.

"Have you guys seen…" The rest of her words fell on deaf ears as Whitney dragged up every ounce of willpower he possessed in order to keep his mouth shut. You had slipped your warm fingers inside his briefs that he had begrudgingly worn. You, his soon to be ex-spouse worked at fingering the tip, gathering precum and smearing it along the underside of his cock in slow, languid strokes. He caught bits of pieces of what you were saying, but the majority of it translated to complete gibberish in his ears.

“…ok?”

Whitney squinted at the woman, mentally cursing both her and you for his current predicament. At least his uncle seemed to not be involved in the conversation anymore. "Yes?" He ground out.

She frowned at him again. "Oh, I was asking if you were all right. You look a little… off, dear."

Whitney smiled--grimaced--when you began massaging the tip of his dick. Just the way he fucking liked. He choked, and prayed to the heavens that it hadn't sounded like a desperate sob instead. But by the slow smile inching across your face, he knew that you had noticed. Whitney vowed to never fly with you ever again.

“'m fine. Just not used to… flying.” He congratulated himself on being able to string anything coherent together with the way you were relentlessly squeezing the base of his cock as it twitched near nonstop now.

You leaned closer towards Whitney while Whitney pressed himself as far back into his seat as humanly possible. Breath held in his lungs as you pointed to a place marked in red on a book you'd precariously dropped on top of Whitney's lap. Fucker. Bastard.

"We wanted to visit this place and…" Finger skimming over to a crinkled corner of the book, you rubbed the edge between thumb and index finger before turning the page. Whitney was caught between wanting to break open the emergency door and tossing his (ex) spouse out into the ocean below, or saying fuck all to his uncle and his three strikes and getting up to drag you into the plane bathroom and brutally fucking you into next tuesday.

Yet, he could do neither of those things as the woman to his right bent over his armrest and pointed to a spot next to your finger. Oh, come the fuck on.

"This place is pretty good for sightseeing." She offered, completely oblivious to the inner turmoil Whitney was suffering through at the hands of your too-clever fingers.

You hummed in approval and squeezed just under the head of Whitney's cock. The action jolted him forwards, almost knocking the book off his lap but you pushed it back just in time.

"Are... Are you sure he doesn't need a glass of water or food or anything?” She asked you, because apparently he was incapable of answering for himself now. Truthfully, he probably was.

You met his dark gaze. "Hungry?" You simply asked him, stroking with just your thumb. "Thirsty?" You questioned, index finger rubbing over the slit.

"Hungry." Whitney snapped, immediately regretting it when that devious smile lit up your face again, and... Fuck. Fuck you for being you, and fuck him for loving every bit of it. He watched you open your mouth, pink tongue wetting dry lips to suggest (he prayed) that the two of you sprint to bathroom and be done with this torturous game, when a voice to his right snagged everyone's attention.

"Here you go, sir." The flight attendant beamed, holding out a tray, laden with food for him to take. With his hands. Currently grasping the armrest in a vice-like grip. He could do little but stare.

"Uh.." Smile painfully forced now, obviously uncomfortable with the fact that she was holding out a tray that Whitney was obviously not accepting, because you had chosen that exact moment to speed up the maddening strokes along his cock, and he seriously doubted the steadiness of his hands at that moment as his eyes squeezed shut.

The flight attendant cleared her throat and glanced at the women. “Did one of you order…?” They both shook their heads.

"I did." You spoke up at last, leaning forwards so the attendant could see you past Whitney's stiff form.

"Oh, I'm so sorry! I apologize. I didn't notice you there!" She offered the tray to you with an apologetic laugh.

The two older ladies laughed as well, saying that they'd made that exact same mistake only moments ago to ease the woman's flustered state of mind.

"Whitney." You began, and Whitney did not like the tone of your voice. You unlatched the tray from the back of the chair before you spoke. "Can you get the food please? I can't reach it from here."

Whitney shifted forwards when your fingers tightened their grip and he almost started openly fucking into your first on instinct. He nearly whined.

"It'll get cold, babe."

Fucking slut. Why did he love you again?

He released his hold on the armrest and was legitimately surprised that there was no indent from how hard he'd been gripping the thing. The woman held out the tray for him and he practically ripped it from her fingers to drop onto your tray with a loud clatter. He ignored the disapproving look from the attendant in favor of glowering downright murderously at your blank-faced stare.

"Thank you, honey. So…" And the torture was back again. Too slow to actually get off, but fast enough that he held himself as rigidly as possible, not daring to move for fear of losing all traces of his dwindling composure. He'd need to put you in your place, and soon.

Sweat was beading along his forehead. Frustration as clear as day in his posture, fingers twitching with the need to strangle somebody, preferably you, as you fisted his cock with newfound fervor. His mood was dark enough that the chattering old women seemed to notice something was off with him when they hurriedly excused themselves to focus on his uncle instead and Whitney wasted no time in twisting his fingers through your hair and wrenching his head back so he could smother you in rough bites and kisses.

"You absolute fucking…” He desperately bites at your lips, rewarded with a breathless gasp and a harsh tug on his swollen cock, wet with precum. He shudders as he humps your fist, gritting his teeth to prevent himself from outright whimpering into your mouth. “Gonna gag you with my cock, gonna- shit!” Guilty laughter tickles his ears as you press your kiss-swollen lips against his cheek.

"Love you too, Whit," was whispered so softly, Whitney was sure he'd imagined it. He swore and cursed the dumb armrest for getting in his way before meeting your gaze, eyes hooded and glazed over with unbridled lust.

"You either finish me off here or get in the fucking bathroom with me, slut. I'm not stopping." He growled against your parted lips. His uncle and those strikes be damned. You seemed to be in total agreement when you pulled your hand out of Whitney's pants so he could straighten up.

Whitney twisted around and stood up, the blanket held loosely over his open fly.

"Bathroom break?"

It took a second for the words to register in his lust-addled brain, but one they did, he froze, eyes narrowed at the source of the voice.

Despite having tapped out of the conversation earlier, his uncle was now staring knowingly at Whitney as he waited for an answer. The older woman next to him blinked in acknowledgement and shuffled out into the aisle so Whitney could leave. Whitney glanced over to you, now staring out of the window, right hand out of sight and blatantly ignoring everyone. You motherfucker.

“Y-yeah. Yeah. Sure…” He repeated, stupidly, side-stepping past the old woman and waddling over to the bathroom, uncaring of what he must look like at the moment. As he moved, he decided he would make sure that you'd be in need of a vacation after this vacation.

He didn't spend five minutes perched on top of the toilet seat, blank-faced and staring down at his stiff, sad cock, wondering why the gods hated him so and why you weren't sitting on it right now.

Whitney hated flying. So much.

#sheddingvelvet.txt #hgegfdhjgdfh WHATEVER im posting it #not very happy with this ill be so exponentially real but i Need to throw it out now or ill keep editing it forever #i am not confident with writing whitney yet so i apologize if i didnt do him sufficient justice jsdgjdfh #debated for a while if i wanted to even post this orz but HEY #chalk up the potential ooc-ness to the domesticity softening him a bit ok? ok<3 hes whipped ur honor #originally wrote this with a specific pc of mine in mind but #i think this works with a generally skulduggerous bastard pc too #anyway lalala #degrees of lewdity #dol #whitney the bully #dol whitney #whitney x pc #my writing

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digenerate-trash · 5 months

Note

Yan bailey vs robin can just be the final part of the saga before the next season next year (kidding unless you want to start a new one lmao)

YAN BAILEY VS WHITNEY

Bailey VS Whitney feeds me. Thank you for the food. (And the ask. I don't say this enough I fucking love asks!!!)

AMAB Bailey | AMAB Whitney

Bailey could hear it. The stomp of boots the rattling of those stupid wallet chains. The scrape of heavy rings against peeling wallpaper. He almost wanted to duck out of his office and smash his head through a glass window. But by the time he was seriously considering it, it was too late. The door to his office slammed open the handle smashing into the wall. Bailey sighed. More fucking repairs...

The blonde boy looked smug as he looked over Bailey's office. Everything in here was poorly taken care of, including Bailey.

"Hey, pops-" Whitney stated taking a seat in the chair opposite Bailey. Making sure to manspread as far as possible just to get on the old man's nerves. "Have you seen my slut around- it's been a couple of days. And, I don't want to be crass but-" Whitney trailed off smirking

Bailey almost collapsed into his own hands. He was too tired for this bullshit. He had work and priorities and budgeting. He didn't have time to entertain a kid he was not in charge of-

"Check the brothel if you want your needs met," Bailey says taking another piece of paper and attempting to file it without looking at Whitney.

"I don't think the brothel is going to cut it. I've grown accustomed to this particular slut." Whitney says he stretches a bit more before he sits forward in the chair and looks at Bailey. Looking for something...

Bailey doesn't budge though and goes about his work "Not my problem." He retorts but Whitney doesn't seem to like that answer. He's getting less and less playful as the conversation goes on.

Whitney pulls out a crumpled piece of paper from his jacket pocket and slams it on Bailey's desk. "I need to know where they are," Whitney says his tone is darker as he glares at Bailey.

The poster is grainy. It looks like Whitney made it himself. It's the school picture of you. With your name and a number under it. "MISSING" is written at the very top and it rubs Bailey the wrong way.

After all. You're not missing.

Bailey takes the poster and throws it out swiftly. "Haven't seen them. Sorry-" Bailey offers. But Whitney only lets out a growl. It's like he can smell the lie on Bailey.

Whitney cracks his knuckles with the heavy rings on them a clear threat and Bailey doesn't like where Whitney's arrogance and cocky attitude is leading them.

When Whitney throws the first punch Bailey grabs his fist slamming it into the desk and holding it there before pressing the sharp side of his scissors into Whitney's throat.

Bailey is quick and precise with his actions. He has to be after all with all the freaks in this town.

whitney and Bailey glare at each other as they sit there in silence. Bailey finally lets go of Whitney and sits back down.

"Listen. I don't know where they are. But I know when they're scared they head to the woods. Maybe check there." Bailey finally says looking up at the boy.

Whitney dusts himself off and shoves his hands into his pockets he nods at Bailey before he backs off and leaves Bailey's office. Leaving the door annoyingly open on his way out.

Bailey knows that only one person lives in the woods. And if he's really lucky. Whitney will never bother him again.

#whitney the bully #bailey the caretaker #tw violence #yan dol #yandere #tw yandere #yandere tropes #x reader #gn reader

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ashersanity · 3 months

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— “Shit, who’s my good boy?”

-> content warning! dub-con?, blood, m top bastard! reader

Ever get that high whenever you ruin a cocky bitch, reducing them to a blubbering mess beneath you as they frantically claw at any nearby surface to steady themselves? Dumb fuck, bitten lips normally quirked up into a smug smirk now oozing fresh droplets of blood running over their chin. The panted sighs that escape them, wheezing and gasping, struggling for any sort of breaths. Just the glassy look in their eyes, the wet eyelashes beaded with tears, freely running down their flushed cheeks. Makes you wanna ruin them, bruised fingers curling deeper through the strands of their hair and using it as leverage to fuck ‘em.

If they’re going to be all bark and no bite, might as well use them like they’re meant to be used, slutty and begging to be stuffed full of your cock. Idly rubbing a rough palm over your throbbing, clothed erection, barely constrained by the constricting fabric holding it back. It’s almost amusing, how the stupid fucker is so helplessly out of it, that they don’t even flinch at the smack of your cockhead, oozing precum against their bloodied lips. With a low curse, prying their mouth apart, experimentally slipping a finger in to drag over their pink tongue. Whorish, instinctively sucking on the pad of your thumb only for it to be replaced by something thicker, hotter insistently nudging against their swollen flesh.

Alright, so you might be the bastard here for even taking advantage of the bitch like this, but after all they’ve done to you. Snarky and bratty, never once listening to your well-intentioned advice, it’s only fair to do as you please with them. Fuck it. Cockhead weeping pre-cum, you shove the entirety of your length inside their mouth, head thrown back at the warm, tight heat snugly wrapped around your fat cock. There’s no gentleness to your action, none of that crap, not after how they’ve acted as you grasp for the back of their head, practically face fucking them. Stifled whimpers slipping into needy whines, curve of their throat rhythmically bobbing in time with each of your heated thrusts. Equivalent of a fucking glory hole, that’s what it is. This stupid, dumb bastard is now all yours and they’re gagging on your cock as though they’ve just been given the taste of it.

— “Fuck, fuck — Haah.. That’s my good fucking bitch. Keep suckin’ like that fer’ me.”

That’s right, balls tightening in need, pulsing cum squirting across their pretty face, burying yourself into the back of their sloppy mouth one last time. Your thick, sticky load dripping from between their lips, struggling to take it all in as you begrudgingly part away from them at last.

— “Make sure to swallow it all, you slut.”

And they do — they do just that, swallowing your thick seed with a faint gulp, dazed off of your fucking cock. Utterly broken.

— “Now that’s my boy.”

whitney, avery, remy, gojo satoru?, suguru geto?, childe?, toji fushiguro?, kaeya alberich?, scaramouche?, reo mikage?, your favorites. shit, i fucking forgot.

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dol-dee · 25 days

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Had to think about that one Brothel Leighton event where you can seduce them into joining you and the student.

Which made me think about how DOL!Dee had to actually get better at acting and pretending to be smth she's not.

I think she definitely has a very low and breathy voice that she uses when she actually needs to seduce someone.

It definitely works on Leighton and is their preferred image of Dee

I don't think any of the LI have heard her talk like that. But it would piss Whitney right off if they ever overheard her using it. They like her raw. No mask, no persona. Just her pure unfiltered rage.

#wdym there’s sides of you I haven’t seen?? wdym you can successfully pretend to be someone else??#< they’d be pissed because those are aspects of her that they don’t have control over #Whitney immediately getting in her face; calling her out like 'what the fuck is this soft toothless shit?? where’s your bite?!'#until Dee finally snaps at them #they’d be so smug about it. (a la: ah; there’s my girl) < Dees insides are shriveling up #dol rambles

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nopecho · 9 months

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Aight so I saw your post about getting into writing and I do have a soft whitney story in my brain. Whitney assumes you're an orphan but you're actually Bailey's kid and they soften up in order to not die. If you're after specifics, whitney jokes about "meeting the parents", y'know some shit joke about you assumedly being an orphan, but you take them to the lotus flat and they find out that Bailey's your parent.

Alright this took me a few days, but I finally finished it! This is my first writing ask, and I had a lot of fun with it :) I added some personal headcanons and details. Have a good read!

Contents: M! Whitney, M! Bailey, F! Defiant PC. CW for typical Whitney insults. Other than that, it’s pretty vanilla.

It is cold. Way too goodman cold. You shiver into your jersey jacket- ideal for spring or autumn, but certainly not in a snowy winter. Your footsteps are barely audible as your feet sink into the snowy pavement, as your breath forms clouds on your face. You are just passing through the commercial alleyways, on your way home, when you feel a sudden tug on your long, silky hair. “Hey there, slut.” You don’t need to turn your head to know who it is. “What do you want, Whitney?” You reply. He tugs again, forcing you to come face to face with him. His shit-eating grin is the last thing you needed to see, especially since he was in a nice, warm leather jacket and you were freezing. “Nothin’ much.” he grabs your wrist, and starts dragging you somewhere. You notice it’s weirdly silent. It takes you a while, but you realize that he’s alone right now. Usually, Whitney is followed by his gang of goons. It’s almost uncanny, seeing him alone. “Where the hell are you taking me, jackass?” you ask, as he keeps dragging you. “You’ll see.” He takes you to a building, a metal ladder going up all the way to the rooftop. “Alright, gal. Climb up. It’ll be romantic at the top.” He pushes you to the ladder, as you roll your eyes. As you climb up, the freezing wind sneaks under your long skirt, creeping into your body. You cuss under your breath as you climb up. Once at the top, Whitney soon follows. He grabs your waist, pulling you close to the edge.

The view is indeed pretty. You can see much of the city from where you stand. The houses covered in white, the smoke coming out of the chimneys, the empty trees covered in icicles all make for a very calming view. “Pretty good, am I right?” Whitney says with a smug grin. “But that’s not why I brought you here today.” “Then what is it?” you inquire. “I want you to show me where you live. Meet the parents and all.” he then facepalms, in fake sorrow. “Ooooh, I nearly forgot! Your folks are dead!” He snickers, caressing your jawline. “How pitiful that whoever aborted you has died. Must be pretty pathetic, to live at the orphanage.” You look at him, confused. “And where did you hear that?” “What, that you're an orphan?” “I don’t know where you got that. I live with my dad.” “Wait, you’re bullshitting me now.” You roll your eyes, annoyed. “Listen Whit, I don’t know who spread that nasty rumor. I don’t live at the orphanage, period.” “Then where do you live?” You let out an annoyed breath from your nose, and it forms a small cloud on your face. You point your finger to the general location of Barb Street. Whitney’s eyes widen. “Barb street? But that’s where the flats are.” “So what?” “No it’s just… nevermind.” You are getting annoyed now. “What, don’t believe me that’s where I live?” “Look, I didn’t think you lived in the same shithole as-” Offended, you grab Whitney’s wrist. “I’ll show you shithole. Come with me, you’re seeing my house right now.” You yank Whitney towards the ladder. “Easy gal! Geez, fucking relax for once…” He rolls his eyes, and starts climbing down. You catch up with him, and soon you’re both on the ground. You start walking Whitney towards your house. As you cross the bridge to the canals, Whitney is weirdly quiet and obedient while you’re holding his wrist. You don’t think much of it, as you drag him along. You soon get to the flat with the lotus doorknob. “Are you crazy, you whore?! You can’t go in-” You fish the keys out from your jersey pocket and open the door. Whitney is speechless. “Wait. You’re telling me you live here?” You just shove Whitney inside. As you enter your apartment, you catch Whitney admiring the location. It has neat wallpaper, the furniture is in excellent shape and is a bit over the top with the decorations, the floor has a thick carpet and the flat is overall very nice and well-kept. Whitney whistles. “Dang girl, I should try and extort you more money. Your dad looks like he’s filthy rich. How did ya even clean up this place so well?”

His eyes then fall to the shelves where the pictures are, and he pales a little. “Wait, is that…?” He picks out a framed photo. “What’s weird?” you ask, still pissed. Whitney is holding a picture of you dad and you, when you were about 12. “Bailey is your father??” He sounds shocked. “Yeah, so what?” “I mean… he’s the big boss here in town. He has quite the bad reputation. That means I’ve been bossing around the big guy’s kid for months.” His gaze then softens. “Although he probably treats you better than the orphans. I’ve heard some horror stories about that Robin kid. Nasty stuff.” You shift uncomfortably. “I mean… yeah. I’ve heard some stuff, too.” You admit. Your defensive shell is cracking. “Honestly, the things my dad does there? they’re not too hard to believe.” Whitney looks at you, now seemingly concerned. “Wait. Your dad didn’t try and-” “No, it’s not like that!” you put your hands forward. “It’s just… He never really cared about me.” You hold your right arm. “He barely speaks to me. I have to do everything in the house, or else he’ll yell at me for having to hire help around the house. He won’t let me even buy a decent jacket for the winter. The only times he bothers looking at me, is when he’s scolding me for screwing up something. So it didn’t surprise me too much when I heard those stories. He just cares about his money.” Whiney looks at you, tilting his head as a hard to read expression forms on his face. “Can’t you just live with your mom then?” A long, long silence ensues as you look away. You didn’t like reminders of what happened. You feel a hand on your shoulder. The touch is gentle, warm. “Hey… I’m sorry.” Whitney? Saying he’s sorry? You look at him, puzzled. His face is… Soft. He looks almost as if he’s in pain. He notices your confused expression. “It must be hell to live with a dad that doesn’t give a shit about you.” He explains. “I know what it feels like. So… for what’s worth, if you need to talk about it? You know where to find me.” He looks around the house, seemingly uncomfortable. “Now, I’ll get going. Let me know when Bailey is available next time. I want to have two words with him.” He starts to walk out of the flat. As he stops by the door, he turns to bid goodbye. “I’ll see you tomorrow, slut.” the insult is almost said in an affectionate manner. And just like that, he leaves your flat. You are left speechless. For some reason, you feel like you know Whitney a bit better now.

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fr3akho3 · 7 months

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Jealousy, Jelaousy.

Kinktober day 2: Jealous sex

Warnings: Jealous sex, Party sex, alcohol, weed, smoking, hickeys, use of the nickname Draculara/Drac, hickeys, smut, unwanted kisses.

2.7k words

You didn't plan for the party to play out this way. It just sorta happened.

Peter Parker, your boyfriend, your friend, the boy you loved most, was never the biggest fan of parties; don't get me wrong, neither were you, but this party was different. You wanted to go; the urge to be ordinary, distinctive, just a teenage girl. The urge was overwhelming. Therefore when your friend Margot begged and pleaded with you to go out to a party, you were thrilled. You had already invited Peter. Margot was a great friend she just had the tendency to...flip her priorities and ditch you for guys.

It's a chilled, cool, Saturday in the midst of October, your window is open as your getting ready for the party. Peter sitting gently on your bed while your sat in front of your vanity finishing your makeup.

"You...you look beautiful, well you always do but the witch costume really adds some effect to it all, you know that, beautiful?" Peter said longingly glancing at you in the mirror.

"You think so, my love?" A giddy smile spreads across your face as you turn around and sit on your bed next to him, placing a soft peck on his cheek.

Your relationship was fairly new, the transition between a long-lived friendship and a romantic relationship label wasn't complicated but just new. There were always romantic feelings that blurred the lines of friendship between you two, but the pure, raw, exposing love you had for each other was so refreshing to you both.

Peter kissed your cheek back, you looked at him and started laughing, he laughed with you, a soft kind of laughter that could fill an entire lifetime with joy, a smile that set paths to true happiness, all for you.

You stand up after mindless giggles pass and there's a comfort of silence. "You ready to leave, Peter?"

"Yeah, yeah let's go." He kisses your hand softly, taking it to stand up off your bed.

Leading you to your car, out of your house, you lock your front door, making sure to turn the lights off and leave everything clean. As your lead outside you get into your car and drive with Peter to Harry Osborn's Halloween party.

After a good 20 minutes of driving and getting lost in a rich neighborhood, you find the house with the tipsy high school students in costumes walking in and out of the house.

"Jesus Christ..." You breathe out as you exit the car, earning a laugh and an arm around your waist from Peter. "Ready to go in?"

"Of course, Draculara." He gives out a smug smile.

As you walk into the party, you spot your friend Margot and drag Peter to go and meet her. You go up to her and hug her immediately, she looks Peter up and down and then looks at you and smiles, "Okay, girl, I see the vision, kinda..." she laughs and then shakes Peter's hand, soon getting dragged away by a different guy.

"Wanna go to the kitchen and grab a few drinks, Miss?" Peter teases.

"You...you are a dick, you know that Pete?"

"I'm your dick though, right Draculara?" He says teasingly, the nickname made your knees weak.

"Mmm, yeah I guess." You shrug it off.

Walking into the kitchen, you pour Peter a coke in a solo cup, and for you lemonade and pink Whitney.

"Woah? Drac, you seriously gonna get fucked up? Like tonight? And since when do you drink? I mean you can...if you want but like...I don't know it's stupid never mind." He rambled off about your habits and safety and how underage drinking was bad.

"It's not a big deal, promise. It's not even a lot it's mostly lemonade." You say quickly defending yourself. Before he could speak you feel a pair of hands grasping at your waist, swiftly turning you around, you smile at the face you see. An old friend you haven't seen in years, Jesse Montoya.

"Yo, what's good, Ma? It's been fuckin' years since I seen your ass? Where you been hiding out?" He says laughing out and grabbing a sip from your drink.

"Yo, you're the one who disappeared on everyone, not me. I've been in the same damn place I've always been. You haven't even met my boyfriend, yet," You go to Peter on the other side of the counter and place him next to you. "This is my boyfriend, Peter Parker." You say smiling widely.

"Boyfriend? Ma? You grown now, huh? Getting boyfriends already, I mean I wouldn't doubt it with those tits." He laughs as your eyes go wide and Peter puts a protective arm around your waist.

"Ma? What you a little bitch who needs his mommy..." Peter whispers under his breath so only you here, you hit his arm softly and he shakes Jesse's hand. "I'm Peter, it's nice to meet you, Jesse."

“Nice to meet your too, Pedro." He says with a fake smile.

"It's Peter..." You stick your neck out to say before Peter can, you try and ignore the tension between the two boys.

"Oh, yeah, sorry. Spanish is my first language so I be getting shit confused, you know?" Jesse says lying to Peter.

"Yeah, yeah, I get it, it's all good," Peter says, beginning to get jealous of Jesse.

"Yo, Ma, we should Talk over there, I got a bunch of new shit to tell you," Jesse says with a charismatic smile on his face.

"Shit? For real? Okay, I'll be there in a minute." You say smiling at him softly. "You mind if I go over there? Only for a minute I promise, Babe." You say to Peter pleadingly.

"Yeah of course, he's your friend go, go, I uh, I'm gonna go find Harry he's here." He says sadly.

"Oh yeah, yeah, of course, I'll be back later." Peter watched as you sway your hips toward Jesse, even his name made Peter sick. He watches you longing as Harry approaches him, putting a hand on his shoulder and laughing, "Looks like he stole your bitch." Harry laughs as Peter rolls his eyes.

"Not my bitch, my girlfriend, Draculara." He says sadly.

"Why do you call her that? Draculara?" Peter laughs at the question.

"She likes to bite me, dude, and she likes to give hickeys; a lot, you should see what's under this stupid costume" Peter says giggling about the nickname he gave you.

Peter watches from afar as you smile and laugh at Jesse's jokes, watching as he slowly gets closer to you, almost as if inching closer to his innocent prey. Peter watches as his hands caress your soft hair, finger inches away from your thighs, that tight dress that lifts those boobs that both men love oh so much, everything felt as if it was in Jesse's favor.

"Go get your little vampire girl before he does something, he doesn't look like a good person who just wants to be friends, Parker, and no offense to your girl but she sees the best in everyone, she's vulnerable, that's not good for guys like him. Go get her." Harry says looking at Peter.

"She has friends. She's allowed to have friends. I'm not gonna embarrass her like that. She doesn't deserve it," Peter's thoughts are interrupted by Jesse going into kiss you, you dodge it and then pretend like it didn't happen, even though you're visibly uncomfortable.

"Oh shit...go get 'em, Parker." Harry doesn't even finish his sentence before Peter is storming over to you and Jesse, he goes up and turns you towards him.

"She's busy." He says kissing you passionately in front of Jesse, he walks away in shame at one point, but that didn't matter. The kiss was elegant, soft, and ravishing, a wave of expression and love, a life worth living, a new place in life in a new chapter. All in 40-ish seconds, a wave of pureness and love took over them as you pull away.

"Peter...?" You say softly, pushing a strand of his hair behind his ear. Peter looks at Harry for the okay to go upstairs and Harry nods at him. Peter swiftly takes your hand and runs upstairs into an empty bedroom.

"Fuck, Y/n/n, you've got me so worked up, you know that? Fuck, when he was coming on to you like that? You know how worked up that got me, Drac?" He's buried in your neck, ravished by your smell, he moves down to your collarbones as you hold back a whimper.

"Got you worked up over someone I don't want. I promise you I'm all yours. That was damn disrespectful what he did, I promise you, I'm breaking terms with him for you, that's disrespectful towards me and you and our relationship."

“Darling, can I show you how much it hurt, ma." He mocks.

"Go ahead, Peter, please."

"Can I take this off for you, my love?" He puts his hands under your shirt, slowly slipping it off, caressing your bare stomach with his finger. "So beautiful, you know that? Your my beautiful girl."

"Please, Peter, do something." You beg for him to do something, you take your skirt off as well as the leg warmers and platform chunky heels you had on to go with your witch costume.

"Have you ever had sex before? Anyone ever touch you like this?" He questions, you only nod your head. "I don't think any of them could make you feel as good as I do. But, let me prove it."

You go onto the bed, laying down, propped up on your elbows to look at him.

"Draculara, so beautiful, can I unhook your bra for you?" You nod your head yes, he walks over to the bed and unhooks your bra, taking it off and placing it to the side, he looks at you, using one hand to caress and love the hardened bud of your breast, and his mouth to suck on the other one.

"So tender for me, so so soft, my love." He continues to suck and love on your breasts.

"Fuck, Peter, you don't know what you do to me, you make me feel- so! Fuck! Good!" You moan out in pleasure.

"Shhh, let me take care of you, Drac." He moans out going to kiss your soft, tender lips.

"Can I take your belt off, please?" He nods his head, and you get up and unbuckle his belt, putting it on the floor as you unbutton his pants and pull his zipper down, tugging on the hems of his pants, he shimmies out of them as you trace the hemming of his boxers.

"Already dripping for me, huh Peter?" You say teasingly as his hardened cock is already leaking out.

"Can I...you know, put it in?" He says smiling, slowly lifting your legs to remove your underwear.

"Go ahead, I wanna pleasure you, us." You say seductively.

He puts the tip in and groans almost immediately after entering you.

"Fuck, you feel that, Drac? Do you feel how tight you are? How much bigger I am than Jesse?" He thrusts into You without warning, sending a sinful moan out of your lips. He begins placing hickeys all over your collarbones and breast, placing a hand where you both become one, toying with your clit. He slams in and out of you at a rapid pace, groaning at the tightness.

"Fuck! Fuck! Draculara! Fuck! Y/n! Y/N/N! F-fuck! S'gonna empty out in you, yeah? Gonna fill you up real good?" The filth and sinful sounds of moans and skin slapping again each other fills the room as well as the party music from downstairs and all over the house is replaced by your phone ringing, you groan as Peter hands the phone to you, it was Margot.

"Answer. I want you to answer the, fuck! P-phone! Talk to her! F-fuck!" You answer the phone as he slows his thrusts down to lower the sounds of slapping skin. "Show her how you sound getting fucked by my cock."

"M-Margot? Mm, what do you n-need? Please hurry the fuck up!" You try and resist moaning into the phone, too embarrassed not wanting for him to stop. You talked to her for a minute before hanging up quickly, his pace quickens as he smiles at you softly.

"My good girl, yeah? Jesse couldn't fuck you like I could? Tell me, do you think he could fuck you like this?" He pulls your legs forward, hand still on where two bodies become one, he stands up putting your ankles on his shoulders, making sure you're comfortable, getting closer and closer to your g-spot.

"Who fucks you best, Drac? Who makes you cum on his cock, huh? He couldn't fuck such a beautiful girl like you, I could. He could never fuck you so good? Make you feel so good, make such a smart girl so cock dumb." He says teasingly.

"Y-yeah! Fuck! Oh, yeah! Fuck! You're the only one who could fuck me like this! I only want your dick inside me! Fuck...! I'm so close, my love! I need you!" You beg him for more, he's so kind to you, making you feel very vain and very pulse of pleasure.

"F-fuck! Baby, I'm gonna cum! I'm so close! Do you promise you gonna give me hickeys when we're done? F-fuck!"

"P-promise! F-fuck! I'm so close! Please! Please, Peter, you make me feel good!" Scratching at his back, he moans your name one last time before emptying himself out inside of your wet cunt, he rides through his orgasm to get you to yours.

"F-fuck! B-baby! Mm! Feels s-so good! P-please! Wanna make you cum!" He moans, overstimulated Form it all

"I'm so close! P-please! Ah! I'm gonna! Fuck...!" You finish on his cock as he fucks into you more, helping you right through your orgasm.

"Did so good for me, sweet girl. Gonna clean you up, okay?" He gets up wobbling to the bathroom and getting a rag to wipe you clean, he comes back with the warm rag and does it.

"Peter...? We're you seriously jealous of Jesse? He's nothing to me. I love you, you know that?" You ask curiously.

"Listen, Drac, I...yeah...when he went in to kiss you I felt like I was gonna lose you, wanted to make you feel good so I can prove I'm better than him." He says shyly, putting his underwear on as well as he picks up your undergarments and lays next to you.

"Well don't be. I like you. Not him, swear." You say softly cuddling with him.

"Can I give you real aftercare, at my place? Give you a nice shower, and a few hickeys maybe?" You bite his neck softly, leaving a few marks before leaning back and kissing him.

"I do love you, you know? Really, Peter, I do." You stroke his cheek as he begins to kiss you more. "Let me put on my clothes so we can go back to your place,"

After putting back on your clothes and fixing your messed up makeup, walking out of the room after cleaning up a little bit, you both do the walk of shame to your car, Harry winking and congratulating Peter for no longer being a virgin, you laugh and then both of you go to his place and watch movies and cuddle for the rest of the loving, lustful, night.

Tag-list:

@mazzystargirl @thedevax @tpaints @parkersmjs @eefeefeefeef12345 @whenisthefall @andr3wgarfieldsupremacist @blossoming-cee @d3adp00ls @aliengirl99 @80pairsofcrocs @isretroavibe @did-someone-change-my-name @practicallylivesonline @crypticbutterfly5 @jakobsdump @olivezgalore @mentallysickphysicallythicc @nixxaswrld @just-levyy

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