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casualhedonists · 5 months

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✩ it don’t need your loving, it just needs attention ✩ (chapter five)

pairing: Coriolanus Snow x reader

warnings: NSFW (18+), snow being snow, themes of sex work (not the reader), cuckolding, eventual smut, fake relationship, unprotected sex, themes of voyeurism & mild exhibitionism, murder/violence mention (but no actual murder) , MAJOR manipulation/gross power dynamics + generally darkish themes, some power play, lots of switching between dom/sub dynamics, oral sex, thigh riding, face sitting, degradation, dirty talk, edging/orgasm denial, roughhousing, eventual piv, one chapter specific dubcon scene (pls tell me if i forgot anything!)

chapter: 5/6

words: um. 9.5k (sorry? but also you're welcome??)

chapter warnings: this chapter contains a scene that falls solidly into dubcon territory, so please proceed with caution, stay safe out there.

moodboards

series masterlist

a/n: WELL. here we are, almost at the end of our little rollercoaster ride. i've lost brain cells over this chapter, almost cut it up into smaller chunks, but ended up leaving it as long as i originally planned (longer, in fact. whoops). as always, feedback is very welcome + encouraged (i love hearing/reading your thoughts as things progress) buckle up, please do take note of the dubcon warning, prepare for the angst, and most importantly, enjoy!

i do not give permission for my work to be reposted/translated anywhere, under any circumstances.

He was back to ignoring you again.

But this time, the feeling was mutual. You’d never felt as thoroughly rejected as you did the night he had you walk back to your room, legs weak, wrapped in nothing but his shirt.

Once upon a time, this scenario would have been one you dreamed of, but reality often falls flat on its face. You wouldn’t have dreamt of walking away from him like this if you’d known it would feel this empty.

Humiliation ran rampant through your body, starting with the tears you blinked away as you left his room, closing the door behind you, and then flooding over as you stepped into your own room, slumping on the bed, curling up into yourself and weeping, pressing your still aching legs together but too upset to finish yourself off.

You kicked yourself for getting carried away, for getting too loud, too possessive with his face between your thighs and your hand in his hair. For getting so caught up in the moment, briefly forgetting your games, and for believing even for a second that you would be on the same page.

This push and pull had begun to wear you thin, and you were tired. So, you slept. Until nearly midday the next morning, when Lucille knocked on your door to remind you it was time for your monthly PR debrief.

The good news, though arguable at this point, was that your arrangement hadn’t been affected by recent events. At least, not on paper. Cordelia ran you through each gala, public appearance, and dinner, barely noticing your preoccupation, rambling on about speeches, coordinating outfits, dates and times of events, what to say and how to say it.

For you - and you could only imagine, Coriolanus too - everything had changed over the span of a month.

Your shame made you abnormally quiet, head hung low, gaze averted, nodding along as Cordelia prompted either a response or approval from you. Snow just stared, glancing at her only when completely necessary, but otherwise, he didn’t take his eyes off you.

He was enjoying this. The sick fuck. You were glad when the meeting ended and you could scamper into the library, eager to lose yourself in a story of any kind other than the one you were living.

This went on. By day, you barely looked at him; by night, you tried over and over to prove that your own fingers were enough to keep you satisfied. To convince yourself that you just wanted him, you didn’t need him.

Because if you needed him, then he called the shots. He would win. And victorious as he may seem, the game wasn’t over yet. You’d slipped up in a moment of vulnerability, he’d tricked you into a corner just to prove his point.

You wanted him, you didn’t need him. But if you did… well.

He was going to have to need you more.

You held back this time. Keeping your cards safe, close to your chest. In a strange way, you found a kind of solace in your arrangement. Recent events had caused it to feel unstable, breakable even, but the meeting had ensured that it was all still on the right track. It allowed you to take a small piece of what you wanted from him without guilt or repercussions. After all, it was planned out to benefit you both. Then, when you were ready, and with a gentle hand, you began to weaponise it, loading it up in the barrel of a gun aimed directly at Snow.

You didn't have much left, but you had this. You knew where your promiscuity had led you. This time, you wanted to pull on his heart strings. Make him feel remorse, or whatever similar emotion he was capable of. Make him soften to you. Torture him with almosts that were never enough.

So when you took, you took cautiously, tentatively. You deepened your usually light kisses to what was just past socially acceptable, only to pull back when Snow began to lean in, turning away and smiling at the people surrounding you, or full-on entering into conversation with somebody else. You'd brush your thumb against his when you held hands, waiting for him to look at you, drawing your hand away when he did. You'd offer smiles to everyone but him, talk and laugh a little louder when you could feel him watching.

You pretended he didn’t exist. You could feel him begin to simmer. It wasn't as brazen as your usual game, but it was working.

Until it wasn’t.

“Something’s wrong, what is it?”

Lucille’s face dropped, her shaking hands lowering from the zip she was struggling with. You were getting ready for a luncheon, and you’d picked out an emerald green dress, one of your favorites for daytime events.

“I’d hoped you wouldn’t notice, ma’am. I apologise. It��s my brother, he… it’s getting worse again.”

“Sit down for a second. Talk to me. What’s going on?”

You listened to Lucille open up uncomfortably, visibly nervous that you would offer your financial support as you’d done before. But you didn’t, sparing her from having to turn you down.

Lucille was stubborn - she would never accept your charity. She was more than happy to work for her wages, and frequently worked longer hours. As months went by, you’d brought her pay up as high as you could without her noticing. But now things were getting more critical, and you knew there was only one thing you could do.

“Why don’t you take the rest of the day off? Go and see your brother.”

“But you’re not dressed-”

“I’ll take care of it. Go home, Lucille. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

She smiled softly.

“Thank you, ma’am.”

You’d tried with the zip, you really had. You didn’t want to have to knock on Snow’s office door with two favors to ask instead of one, but the dress was tight and the zip kept getting jammed. So, there you stood, dress half undone at the back, heart in your throat. You counted your blessings; at least it wasn’t his bedroom. You didn’t think you could face him at all in there. You heard typing from inside.

“Come in.”

You pushed the door open, feeling like an intruder.

“Sorry, I just… Could you help me with this?” Your hand tightened behind your back, holding the dress together.

He narrowed his eyes. He was already in his suit, typewriter on the desk in front of him.

“Lucille forget how to do her job?”

“I don’t need snide right now. Please, Coriolanus? I’ll explain when I’m not half naked. It’s drafty in here.”

You tried to make it clear in your tone that this wasn’t some ploy. You weren’t sure you had many of those left to offer.

“Fine.” He sighed, and stood, making no motion towards you, so you crossed the room, gripping onto the fabric, turning your back to him.

His hand came to rest on your waist as the other took the zipper, and you tried not to flinch at his touch. You pressed your lips together as he carefully zipped you up, cold metal sending a chill down your spine. Or maybe that was just him. You felt your eyes slide shut and your lips part as his hand lingered on your waist. You couldn’t hear anything but your heartbeat and the tick of his grandfather clock.

“Is that okay? Not too tight?” His breath on your neck gave you goosebumps, you hoped desperately that he wouldn’t notice.

“No, it’s perfect. Thank you.”

The second his hand fell from your waist, you missed it. You carefully met his eye; he was looking at you like you had something he wanted.

So why hadn’t he wanted you? You’d been right there, and he’d turned you down.

He cleared his throat.

“I should finish this letter before we leave. Was there anything else?”

You paused.

“Actually, there is. Could I ask you a favor?” You glanced off to the side, suddenly very interested in the knots of wood on his desk. What helped was that you'd never seen inside this room before, and you hid behind your curiosity like it was a lifeline.

“What is it?”

“It’s…” you lowered your voice, “it’s about Lucille. Her brother, actually. He’s in the hospital again. The family can’t afford the medical bills to keep him in for as long as he needs. I’d like to foot the bill, but I can’t do it anonymously. I thought… well, I was wondering if you could pull a few strings.”

You were overexplaining, something you weren’t at all used to doing, but these days, just being in the same room as him made you nervous. You stared at his desk, at the lack of photographs on it, the single pen laying to the side, the smoothness of the glaze.

It was quiet for a moment.

“Consider it done.”

You looked up.

“Really?”

“Did you think I’d say no?” He asked.

“I- no, but…”

“It’s something that matters to you.”

You blinked, dumbfounded at how simply he put it.

“Yes. It is. Thank you, Coriolanus.”

“Don’t mention it. I’ll make sure it’s anonymous.”

“Thank you. Or, I mean…”

He looked at you, and you wanted to melt. Wanted to throw strategy out the window, god, but -

You couldn’t. It hadn’t worked last time. You’d hoped to avoid a stalemate, but here you were, sat right in the middle of one.

“The car’s coming in a half hour. Are you almost ready?” He asked.

“Yes. Almost.”

The luncheon was going well, at first. You were at the head of a large table, sat beside Snow, straightening your salad fork as he stood up to make a speech. You’d been glancing at him throughout the afternoon; it wasn’t so hard to anymore. It felt like his willingness to help Lucille without question, just because it was what you wanted, had more of an effect on you in five minutes than the entire week of your teasing had on him. One conversation, and the tides had changed.

As he began talking, you started to realise that your gentler approach may have been affecting you more than it had him. The party was transfixed; people loved to hear him talk, and you were proud. He had a certain way with words; you knew better than anyone. You’d fallen victim to them.

You weren’t sure why his words affected you – you’d been there, you’d agreed when Cordelia had suggested he say something nice about you in this particular speech, really make the crowd swoon, lay it on thick - but when he started to talk about you, about how proud he was to have you by his side, how strong you were-

You knew he was just reciting a script written for him, but you couldn’t help it. The tears began to quietly fall. You thanked whatever higher being was listening for not letting anyone notice.

Or so you thought.

It was just typical that out of all the people that could’ve noticed, the one person who knew better was the only one who did.

The rest of them would’ve brushed it off as you simply being moved by emotion, honored by his kind words. You blinked away your tears, taking small, polite sips of your wine. It was painful because you knew it wasn’t true. None of it was, you knew he could never say those words and mean them.

And he knew that too.

It was dark when you got home, and you trailed behind him awkwardly on your way upstairs.

“Can I have a word?” his voice was gentle, and it set you on edge.

“Sure.”

You stood awkwardly in the hallway, then he led you into the office. He leaned against his desk, and you shifted your feet where you stood, eyes on the floor, on the art on the walls, on anything other than him.

“You were upset today.” He started.

You swallowed.

“It won’t happen again, I promise.” you kept your voice steady. He paused.

“If that was my fault, I apologise. If I took it too far, if I upset you-”

You weren’t sure which part he was talking about, but you finally looked at him in a sort of distant defiance.

“Do you even care if I’m upset?”

“Of course I do. Especially when it’s something that affects you… publicly.”

You huffed, forcing yourself to stare him down.

“Because that’s all that matters, right? What the public sees?”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Sure it is. It’s okay, Snow. I’m a big girl. And I can take a hint, too. So don’t worry about me, I’ll be just fine. Business as usual, right?”

He just stared, puzzled. You took a breath.

“Look, it’s been a long day. Can I go, or are you going to keep me here all night?”

The silence was like smoke, clouding between you. His brow furrowed, calculating. Then he sighed, long and heavy, and you tried not to let it phase you.

“Fine. Go.”

You nodded.

“Goodnight.”

You’d never been more relieved to get away from him. Your broken walls were starting to build back up. You wouldn’t let him break you, you couldn’t. You were stronger than this.

That night, for the first time, you couldn’t help but wonder if this was truly what you wanted.

“Darling, you look ravishing.” Lilian drawled. “It’s a pity Snow is so far across the room, and can’t appreciate you. If I dressed half as nicely as you did, perhaps my dear husband wouldn’t be screwing the maid.”

A scandalised chorus of giggles erupted from the group. It was a pretty dress, one of your best. Long and smooth black fabric, ruched at the waist, with a deep cut up the leg that was just acceptable for an evening gala. You stood tall, champagne glass in hand, gossiping with your friends.

Well.

Friends was being generous. You kept few true friends, and they would hardly be gossiping in a circle like this.

Acquaintances was a better fit. Pawns if you were being brutally honest. Politicians’ wives, senators’ mistresses, a chancellor’s daughter or two. Pieces of chess, really, in this bigger game. Anyone who could help you climb higher, whisper carefully spun words into open ears at your whim.

“I just know George would rip that dress off me the moment I got home. He might not even be able to wait, and just pull me into a closet here instead.”

Another eruption of giggles.

“Well, I’m flattered, my darlings.” You smiled. “This is one of my favorites. Coriolanus treats me well.”

“I’m sure he does,” a suggestive glance from Lilian, “in all the ways one would expect, I assume?”

You gasped in mock modesty.

“Lilian,” you drawled, “I certainly hope you’re not suggesting I disclose our-”

“Oh, just tell us dear, please. We’re all dying to know. You’re always so coy about it. What’s he like?”

You pulled your lips into a knowing smile, your perfectly painted face helping you slide into this facade. You scanned your eyes across the ballroom, across to Snow. He stood talking to a group of men, colleagues of his. You recognised their faces.

It had been four days since the luncheon. Four days since your outburst. Four days of hiding away. You’d been dreading tonight’s gala, but it gave you an excuse to dress nicely, and as soon as you’d arrived, you and Coriolanus has gone your separate ways.

“Well,” you hummed, masking your uncertainty as anticipation, “he can be a slight tease.”

A few dramatic gasps sounded through the group, and you turned back to face them, their eyes wide and expectant.

“Salacious. Do tell.” Another voice piped up with a giggle.

“He can be fun to toy with. I do enjoy pushing back, but sometimes he takes it… a little far.” You said carefully.

“My, who would have known? But you get what you want, my dear, surely.” Lilian asked.

You smiled, glancing back at him, suit pristine with a white rose in his breast pocket. You hated how good he looked. He was smiling politely at the group of men around him, but you could tell from the tick in his jaw that something was bothering him.

“Sometimes, I do. Others, I wait for my chance to push his buttons right back.”

“Oh, but where’s the fun in that? I don’t suppose,” she pressed, “that you’re in one of those… entanglements at the moment?”

“Lilian, darling, you know I don’t kiss and tell.”

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Another giggle sounded from the group.

“Oh, my.” Lilian repeated, glancing between the two of you. “I do hope you’ve been making him suffer.”

“Well, I’m playing a longer game this time, so I’m afraid there hasn’t been as much fun lately.”

Lilian sucked in a breath, like the perfect idea had just dawned on her.

“Well, I see no moment like the present. You’re here, you’re dressed marvellously, I propose you walk right over there and show him just what he’s missing.”

A chorus of yes and do it and we’ll cheer you ons rang out. Loosened by the champagne, you looked across the room at him again. You could do it. He wouldn’t be able to react, it would be the most perfect torture. You suddenly decided that you were done making small moves, done playing it safe like this was some schoolgirl crush. It was time to step up to the mark again. Take your power back.

Your group could sense the newfound determination in you. You smiled, slow and cunning.

Show him what he’s missing.

Simple. It’s what you did best.

“Watch and learn, ladies.”

A hush fell over the group as they watched you run a hand through your hair, handed your glass to one of them, and pressed your lips together. Before you’d left the house you’d added a swipe of red lipstick, dark red, almost bloodlike. It always made you feel more confident and tonight, you needed the pick me up.

The middle of the ballroom was practically empty; the dancing was over, and everyone had long since gathered in groups to the sides. So you turned heads when you stepped out, the only one on the floor, black satin hugging your frame like a second skin. You didn’t look at them, you made a steady beeline to Snow. You felt more and more eyes on you as you crossed the room, heels clicking on the floor. They all watched, waiting for… something. Coriolanus didn’t look up until you were a mere few steps away, now deep in some conversation he was going to forget very shortly.

Blue eyes flashed to yours with a confused apprehension, but you didn’t give yourself time to think about the twitch of his brow, or the looks on the faces of his colleagues. You didn’t think about the way he opened his mouth as if to say something, only for it to be swallowed away.

You didn’t think about any of that.

Because your lips were on his.

Hot and hungry, teeth clashing, your hand grabbing the back of his neck as he leaned in, surprised at first, then warm, wanting. Lips tugging at yours like he was starving.

It was sinful.

You’d never been kissed like this before. Your fuzzy brain wondered how you’d gone through life not knowing what this felt like, the press of his lips devouring yours, heated and messy.

He kissed you like breathing, like you were his oxygen supply. His hand slid to your waist and pulled you in, and you heard the echoes of chuckling coming from around you, morphing into a few light claps.

Then, just as you felt him fully melt into you, your hand slipped higher to the nape of his neck, grabbing a fistful of perfect platinum curls, and tugged.

It was nothing but an affectionate display to the people surrounding you, but a brazen reminder between the two of you. It was your way of showing you hadn’t forgotten, that you wouldn’t be made to feel ashamed, to cower in a corner while he got the better of you.

Not in this lifetime.

The second it happened, his breath hitched, and his hand tensed on your waist. You were the only one who caught it, getting high off the satisfaction, finally pulling away.

You weren’t sure you’d ever seen a prettier sight; his blown-out eyes, his face stained with scarlet.

How’s that for tasting your own medicine.

Watching him attempt to collect himself was sweeter still. Watching him reset his face into one of distant amusement. He let out a small laugh, glanced at the rest of the party.

“Everything alright, doll? Had a little much champagne, perhaps?”

His colleagues chuckled, but you didn’t look their way. You stood your ground. Offered a sweet smile, but he could see your slyness.

“Oh, I’m swell. And I think I’ve had just enough, actually. I’m gonna go freshen up.”

You turned on your heel and made your way through winding halls to the bathroom, riding an adrenaline high. You picked up a glass from a server’s tray along the way – the champagne had dried out, all they were serving now was posca, which while disgusting, worked a treat to take the edge off. It wasn’t long before the door swung open and you saw Coriolanus appear behind you in the mirror.

“This is the ladies’ room, handsome.” You looked away, continuing to reapply your lipstick.

He stepped closer.

“What was that kiss about, sweetheart?” Straight to the point.

“Nothing.” You shrugged.

“Didn’t feel like nothing.”

“That’s called acting, Snow.” You rolled your eyes, vaguely aware that your words sounded a little jumbled. You put the tube of lipstick away. “We had an audience. A rather expectant one at that.”

He folded his arms.

“I don’t like it when you catch me off guard like that. Not with people around.”

“Seemed to like it plenty to me.” You mumbled.

He didn’t answer, pacing past you to the other sink, grabbing a towel and wiping it against his face, where the red had stained his skin. It only served to spread it around further, and if you weren’t already smugly entertained by the marks you’d left on him, now it was just plain funny.

He glared at you when you laughed.

“Don’t give me that look. Here,” you offered, stepping across to him, taking the towel and wetting it, “let me.”

You wiped at a patch, but he snatched the towel back and took over.

“No, you’re rubbing it too hard. It’s-” he glowered at you – “fine. Do it your way.”

You went back to lean against your sink and took another sip of posca, admiring the ornate decorations in the room. A little excessive, a little new money for your tastes.

There was a rap on the door.

“President Snow?”

“Just a minute.” He said coolly.

“You’re in a mood tonight.” You remarked, and he huffed.

“Running a country can get exhausting. Don’t expect you to understand.”

“Right.” You said flatly. “Because I’m just a brainless pawn like everybody else.”

He looked over at you, at the drink in your hand.

“How many of those have you had?”

You shrugged again, and he tossed the towel into the sink, walking over to you.

“Answer me.” His voice was stern, and for a second, you soaked it in, drenched in the danger as he approached, closing in. Your tongue slipped out to wet your lips, and your eyes followed his as he moved to stand in front of you.

“Shame you don’t have someone to let all that frustration out on, isn’t it? Sounds like that could be helpful.”

His eyes pierced yours.

“Doll-”

“I’m just saying, it’s a pity you don’t.” You moved to bring the glass to your lips, anticipating the burn in your throat, but he gently stopped your hand.

“Okay, that’s enough.”

“Posca? It’s my first glass.” You smiled, eyes batting.

“You know what I mean. I think you should stop.”

You looked at the glass, then back at him, and pried your hand away, slowly and pointedly taking another sip.

“Sweetheart.” He warned.

“What, are you punish me? Gonna make me beg for you then kick me out again? Already did that once.”

He gave an incredulous half-laugh.

“That’s what this is about? You’re not really going to be mad about that forever, are you?”

“That depends. How long is forever?”

The door knocked again, and he worked the glass out of your hand.

“Drink some water. Sober up. We’ll talk about this when we get home.”

You sighed, heading for the door, but glanced back at him, his face still a stained mess. You brushed a finger against your own cheek to mirror his.

“You missed a spot.”

You sat in silence in his office, feeling a little like a schoolchild caught misbehaving. His typing was the only sound in the room. The seat was low; almost as if it was there to point out his authority over anyone who sat in it. Knowing him, it probably was.

He’d managed to clean off the rest of your lipstick, but his face looked rubbed raw, uncomfortable. A tall glass of water sat on the desk in front of you.

“Thought you said we’d talk.”

“Not until you finish that glass. I’m not talking to you inebriated.”

“Seriously?”

He shot you a look from behind his typewriter.

“Fine. Whatever.” You reached for it and took a few sips. He looked back down again. A few folders cluttered the desk, and in your boredom, your eyes scanned them. They looked complicated; legal.

“What are you writing there anyway? Or am I too dumb to understand?”

He offered another unimpressed glance.

“It’s a new bill I’m trying to pass. Except apparently, I’m the only one around here with their head screwed on enough to work on it.”

You waited as Snow pushed the typewriter’s lever, carriage sliding the page as he began writing the next line. You sipped your water.

He sighed. “One day I won’t have to mingle with these idiots anymore. They’ll just listen to me, and obey.”

You took that in.

“Do you feel that way about me?”

He studied you for a second, and stopped typing.

“No. Not really.”

“But you wish I’d be more… compliant.” You stared at the floor.

“Not necessarily.”

“You sure? Didn’t seem to like it the other night.”

His eyes narrowed. Knowing this conversation was a game of chess like any other. But lately the stakes were higher than ever.

“Never said I didn’t like it. Just that you were out of line.”

“And where is that fucking line?” You snapped. “I’m serious, Snow, because we’ve never talked about it.”

“You want to talk, all of a sudden? Okay, sweetheart. Fire away.”

You put the glass down on the table, heavier than intended.

“I just don’t understand you, Coriolanus. I mean, first you don’t want me, then you do want me, then you don’t again. And now what? I don’t know what I’m supposed to think when you don’t give me anything to go off.”

He watched you carefully, and you wanted to shake him, to scream, anything that would give you answers. You stood, unable to sit still, and started pacing.

“You know what’s worse? I don’t even know if you want me here anymore. I don’t know how to act around you because I never know what you’re thinking. At first I thought all this, the whole push and pull, was just some control thing. But-” you laughed, airy and insane, “you know what I realised? You’ve had me fooled, Snow. All this time I thought we were equals, but now I think I finally realise.”

He frowned, waiting for you to continue.

“You pay for my company, if you think about it. We trade services, don’t we? You get something from me, I get something back. I live in your house, eat your food, wear nice clothes. At the end of the day, that’s just it, isn’t it?”

“What?”

You shrugged, tears filling your eyes as bitterness took over, so strong you could almost taste it.

“I’m no better than a whore myself.”

You’d never heard a louder silence. If that hadn’t just taken everything out of you, you’d have begged him to say something. Instead, you just stared, eyes blurry with tears, as he seconds seemed to stretch into minutes, and you gave up trying to read his mind, because his expression was indecipherable.

After what felt like hours, he took a long breath.

“Sit down.”

You glanced at the floor, then took a step towards your chair. He stopped you.

“Not there. Here.” He nodded at the desk in front of him, and you swallowed thickly, stepping around the desk, getting awfully close to him, and pulling yourself onto the desk, legs pressed together. He stood, looking down at you.

“That’s really what you think of yourself?” He asked, voice steady and controlled.

You kept your eyes averted.

“Am I wrong?”

He lifted a hand and brushed his fingertips against your jaw, tipping your head up to look at him. And when you looked at his eyes, you knew exactly what he was feeling. He wasn’t hurt, or upset.

He was mad.

“Tell me something. What do you think I’d do if I heard someone talking about you that way?

“I don’t-”

“I’d have them executed. And you expect me to stand by and let you talk about yourself like that?”

You felt a tear spill down your cheek.

“I don’t know, Coriolanus, you tell me. Am I disposable to you?”

“Of course not."

“But you’d replace me if I left.”

“What makes you think I’d let you leave in the first place?”

A chill caressed your spine.

“That’s right. I’m keeping you here, doll. If I made you doubt that, I apologise. But you’re no whore. Though sometimes, I…” He trailed off.

“What?”

His eyes were on your lips again, hungry. You wondered how someone could switch from distant to depraved and wanting this quickly.

“Sometimes I wish you were. Because it’d make it a lot easier for me to take what I want. If you were, then I’d have no hesitation in ripping your clothes off right here. Fucking you on my desk, or up against the wall, not caring if you cum. Not caring if you enjoy it. If you were a whore, I’d have fucked you in every room in this house, twice over. I wouldn’t let you sleep.”

His hand was on your thigh, the now-creased fabric of your dress crumpling as it slid up. You weren’t sure when your eyes had fallen shut, your hot breath mixing with his as his thumb rubbed against your skin.

Your voice was pathetically quiet.

“Then why don’t you?”

He sighed, tone shifting into something tense, something you could cut through with a knife.

“Because you’re fucking impossible, you know that? I can barely think when you’re around. I don’t know where the games begin or end. I don’t… I don’t understand this power you have over me. I thought you knew, you must know that you’re under my skin. I don’t know if you’ll ever stop playing with me. It drives me fucking insane.”

You opened your eyes, hand gripping his wrist and pulling it from your thigh. You slid off the desk and took a step away from him.

“You think I’m playing with you? The only time you pay an ounce of attention to me is when you’re trying to fuck with my head, Snow. I said my piece, you heard me and you still didn’t care. So please, for both our sakes, stop torturing me. Just… come find me when you decide you want me again, okay? Let’s leave it at that.”

You made for the door, which you slammed with such an impressive force that it even took you aback.

You replayed his words in your head that night until you fell into a deep sleep, and when you woke, you felt like your dreams made more sense than he did.

“Tigris!” you exclaimed, catapulting into the blonde’s arms. The people who stood scattered around you in the manor’s large ballroom spun their heads around at your display. A few even dodged to the side as the momentum that you’d built running down the stairs nearly knocked her over.

A few days of silent glances and fewer exchanged words had passed. And now, you were just happy to be hosting in the comfort of your own home, and to finally see Tigris again. You wondered if she noticed how you hugged her, if she wondered - like you did - if you’d ever let go.

“I’m so happy you’re here. How’s your Grandma’am?”

“She’s quite well, she’s sorry she couldn’t make it. You look beautiful as ever. It’s been too long!”

“I know! I don’t think I’ve seen you since your birthday, which makes me the worst friend ever.” You groaned, scrunching up your face in shame.

“It’s okay! I know busy Coriolanus keeps you with all these functions. You must be going out of your mind by now. How are you holding up?”

The two of you walked to the edge of the room, where prying eyes had settled down after your greeting.

You looked at Snow, stood across the ballroom, dressed in a pristine suit with a champagne glass in hand, talking to yet another group of men who worked for him – ministers and such, a little higher ranking than the group from the other night – and spared you the occasional glance. As if he was keeping tabs on you. It wasn’t long before Tigris caught on and politely inquired.

“I don’t understand him, Tigris. I think he hates me.” You sighed.

“What? No, he could never. He has a soft spot for you, really, and I have it on good authority.”

“I’m not so sure anymore. I think I’ve pushed it a little far this time. I think… maybe we both did. I’m in uncharted waters, here.”

“Look, I know I don’t know all the ins and outs of how this thing between you works, but I don’t think he could ever hate you for doing anything. Coryo – I mean, Coriolanus, he does care, contrary to popular belief. It’s just that his way of showing it can get a little…”

“Fucked?” You offered, and she laughed.

“Yes, exactly. Now, I’m not going to lie to you and say that he’s an angel on earth, he’s had to do things to get to where he is now. Things that even I don’t know the extent of, and they’ve… changed him.”

You rarely got the chance to speak with Tigris alone these days, with Snow usually playing chaperone, or keeping one or the both of you busy, but it had always been easy to slide right back into conversation with her like you’d never been apart.

You’d first met Tigris at a Plinth gala years ago, on the same day you’d met Snow. The two of you had talked and laughed and she had an easiness around her, she wasn’t shallow and judgemental like a lot of the girls you’d grown up with, though you never knew why until many months later. Snow had placed a large wall between his life before the Plinth endorsement, and after. Few people knew the conditions he’d grown up in, but after countless hours with Tigris, you’d begun to assemble small pieces. Despite your closeness with her, you knew from her warnings that Snow had a sort of temper when it came to this topic, so you approached it with caution.

“Changed him how?” You inquired, finally.

“Well… It wasn’t always fancy balls and lunches with him. It never was, with any of us, as you know, but especially for him. He’s… had a different experience. Grandma’am and I, we’ve known hard times, but we haven’t seen what he’s seen. Not even close.”

“What kind of things?”

She glanced over her shoulder, making sure nobody was hovering.

“He’d kill me for telling you.”

“You know I won’t say a word. But you don’t have to tell me, if it’s too much to ask.”

She took in a breath, and sipped her drink, voice dropping to a whisper.

“This stays between us, okay? Coriolanus has… been out there. In the districts, I mean. Before all this. And I can’t go into detail, he’d have my head if I…”

You swallowed.

“The districts? But… why? I don’t-”

“Tigris, lovely to see you, it’s been so long.” A male voice interrupted, and you quickly excused yourself, slipping away to let the two of them talk.

After mulling it over in your head and making small talk with a few more guests, you snuck out of a side door and into the hallways, winding upstairs until you were finally met with Snow’s bedroom door. The sound of voices and music a mere echo below you, you pushed tentatively, and stepped inside. It was strange, being in there alone, for the first time since he’d turned you away. But you paced the floor, looking for something, anything, that would answer the questions you had. Why the districts? Why couldn’t Tigris tell you what had happened there?

Glancing back at the door, you began thumbing through his closet, peeking inside drawers. You’d already given his room a once over, but you worked more meticulously this time, every corner you unsuccessfully turned over only fuelling your curiosity. You walked around the room again, getting frustrated.

You headed back to the door, scanning the place, and retraced your steps a third time. Knocking a little on cupboards and anything that appeared the slightest bit odd or out of place. It was a perpetually tidy room, neat as ever, save for the desk which contained folders you were sure weren’t for your eyes, but that didn’t stop you. You kept on, trying your best not to leave any stone unturned, and most importantly, trying not to move anything out of place.

Eventually, you moved to the smaller desk drawers again, rifling through them haphazardly, annoyed by the lack of evidence you were finding. One of the two drawers had very little inside it, just a pencil and a pocket dictionary, and as you pushed your hand further inside to feel for anything else, you noticed it felt smaller than the first. Shallower. When you knocked, it was hollow.

It had a false bottom.

Your father used to keep his cigars beneath one of these when you were growing up, so you knew what to look for. You felt around the edge until you touched a small, metal handle, then emptied the drawer, hooked your fingers into the handle and pulled. You frowned at first, there was less in the hidden compartment than there was above it. But you peered inside, and there lay two items: an old photograph, and a silver dog tag.

Suddenly, it all made sense. His efficiency, his drive, his orderliness.

Military. The districts. The dog tag.

You unfolded the photograph, caked in a layer of dust, and it hit you like a ton of rocks.

Coriolanus was a peacekeeper.

But why? When? And why keep it a secret?

In the photograph, his hair was buzzed, and he was in a uniform you recognised immediately; if only because of the annual reaping ceremony shown in every building in the Capitol. He was standing next to a boy with dark hair, also buzzed. You recognised him as Sejanus Plinth, you’d never met the kid but you’d been to his funeral with your family, and had seen enough pictures to know.

You knew that the Plinth family had backed Coriolanus’ education, that he became their new heir, a protégé of sorts, but not that he’d been friends with their son. Not that they’d been this close, at least. They weren’t smiling in the photo, stood pin straight and alert in what looked like barracks.

You folded the photograph and placed it back where you found it. Your hands lingered on the dog tag, though, despite the logical side of your brain screaming at you to put it back, leave the room and pretend you didn’t see this. But the louder part egged you on as you pulled it out of the drawer, examining the engraved words, running your hands over the name SNOW and, further down, DISTRICT 12.

You’d heard bedtime stories from your mother while growing up, about the war, the Hunger Games and why they existed, and why it was never safe to set foot in the districts, not even the richer ones.

They’re beneath us, she’d said. They’re dangerous. Barbaric. And 12 was notoriously the poorest, most dangerous of them all.

Coriolanus had now become more of an enigma to you than ever before, and a thousand new questions flooded your head.

You closed the drawer halfway, holding the chain, pulling out a chair in front of the mirror to sit down. You turned the tag over in your hands, as if it would start giving you the answers, if only you looked hard enough.

Why was he sent to 12? Why couldn’t he talk about it?

Despite the conditions Snow grew up in, there was respect behind his family name. It didn’t make sense why someone of his social standing and education would leave to be a peacekeeper, of all things, and in 12, of all places. A strange sort of pity filled you, wondering what he could’ve seen out there. What he could’ve done. It all drew you in as you got lost in a world of what ifs.

Despite yourself, you pushed your hair from your neck, and as if in a trance, wrapped the chain around it. It fell heavy and cold against your skin, sending a chill through your bones. You were so busy staring down at it, so lost in thought that you barely noticed the sound of the door pushing open. Or the floorboards lightly creaking. Or his reflection in the mirror. You didn’t notice any of that, until the door swung shut with a bang.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

Coriolanus had had a long day, most of which he’d spent simmering over work and you. He’d kept his eye on you that evening; on the way you’d thrown yourself into Tigris’ arms, and talked, transfixed, and he hated not knowing what was being said. A strange feeling set in as he saw the two of you get deeper into conversation from the other side of the large room, a deep-seated uneasiness stirring him up as he drowned out the tales of his associates’ incompetence. It felt like a breath of relief when he sent someone your way to interrupt whatever talk you were having, pretending that Tigris had been looking for him earlier. He focused on your brief tour of the room when the distraction worked, eyes flitting around like you were preoccupied.

When he saw you dart away from the ballroom and up one of the stairwells, he followed you as soon as he got the chance.

He’d wondered if you might act up today, but this wasn’t what he was expecting. When he saw you, the all too familiar glint of silver around your pretty neck, something shifted in him. Something he’d done a very, very good job of keeping at bay during his first few years of presidency.

Rage.

Your eyes met his in the mirror.

“Coriolanus, I-”

His hands were on you before you could finish your sentence, hauling you out of the chair, fingers wrapped in a death grip around your arms, squeezing as he pushed you to the wall with a satisfying thud.

“What, you can explain? I highly doubt that.”

“I’m sorry, I just-” You gasped as he squeezed tighter, gripping your wrists.

“Do you even know what this means?” He seethed, dog tag pressed between his fingers, chain pulling at your neck.

The forest. The birds. The gunshots that deafened him for weeks.

“I didn’t know… I’m sorry. I never knew you were a peacekeeper, Coryo, I-” He flinched, saw the way you winced the second it passed your lips.

Snow may have been cold, but his eyes were fire. And you were only stoking it.

“So I’m Coryo now? Who the fuck told you call me that? Was it Tigris? I saw you talking to her, don’t lie to me.”

“No.” You shook your head. “She didn’t tell me anything, I promise. Please. It was just me.”

He moved in closer, eclipsing you altogether, grip on the chain so tight he was certain you’d be able to feel it pinching the back of your neck, digging a mark into your flesh. He let the sadistic part of his brain take delight in it, in the way your eyes widened, face pleading.

Whatever this game was between you, you’d gone too far this time.

“How did you find this?” He snapped.

You were crowded against the wall, unable to move. Tears started to brim, and you didn’t answer, he wasn’t sure you could. You just shook your head over and over, repeating I’m sorry like a broken record.

“Take this off. Now. Take it off.” He ordered, dropping it back to your chest, stepping away a little so you could lift your shaking arms over your head, removing the chain. He snatched it from you, gripping it in his palm, looking down at it, and you breathed out in relief.

“I didn’t mean to… I was just looking. I had so many questions. I didn’t know what I’d find.”

“And? Are you fucking satisfied now?” His voice chilled you to the bone as he looked up at you again.

You shook your head. Apologised again. Wished you could apologise in any way that would matter, but it was too late. You’d never been more afraid in your life, anticipating what might happen, remembering echoes of rumors you’d heard, of Snow poisoning his enemies, of sending them to hang. Some you knew to be true, but others you boiled down to rebel gossip.

Now, you weren’t so sure. These were the eyes of a man who’d dropped his mask, and it was like staring into a dark void. You could get lost in it, and never find your way back.

“Please. Don’t… I won’t tell anyone, I promise. You can trust me.”

He scoffed.

Stupid girl. Hadn’t you learned by now, that trust meant nothing?

“Like I trusted you in here? I don’t think so. Can’t believe you had me feeling sorry for you. Probably just made it up so you could lower my guard then turn around and stick your nose where it doesn’t belong.”

“I didn’t, Coriolanus, I swear.” You pleaded. You were crying, tears slipping down your cheeks.

“I’ve been very patient with you, little girl. But this is where I draw the line. You have no idea how far you’ve pushed me. And you don’t even realise it, you’re so caught up in your little crush. Do you know how easy I’ve been going on you? The things I’ve let you get away with… I’ve killed people for much less.”

“You’ve…” You trailed off, barely hearing your own words, barely processing a thing. He laughed, low and dark.

“Does that scare you, sweetheart? Does it make you afraid?”

Eyes frozen open, you just stared. You felt your jaw go slack.

“Good.”

Coriolanus toed an invisible line, one that had never been crossed before. You wanted him to show you he wanted you? Fine.

He looked down at the chain wrapped around his fist, but he didn’t pocket it, or place it to the side. He unwound it, and slowly pulled it over his own neck.

Your eyes dropped to where it sat in stark contrast, heavy and shining, garish against his fancy dress shirt. You felt your blood run cold.

“Get on your knees.” You heard him say. Your eyes darted back up.

“What?”

When he spoke, it sounded like someone else was talking. Someone you didn’t know at all.

“You heard me. Get on your fucking knees. Right now.”

What could you do? This was what you’d wanted. Just… not like this. Not when your hands were shaking in fear, and you had no idea what this Coriolanus was capable of.

Your head said yes; your heart wept. But you were far past listening to your sorry heart.

So, you obeyed. Legs all but giving in as you lowered yourself to the ground, knees meeting cold hardwood as the chill cut through your dress.

His fingers slipped under one of the straps.

“Take this off, baby.” He murmured, distant, like he wasn’t all there. Your head hung in shame, eyes on his feet as you pushed the straps from your shoulder, top half of the dress falling down. You heard his zipper slide down, and you shivered. No longer sure if it was in fear or anticipation.

“Head up. Look at me. Good,” he said, when you obliged, “now let’s see what this pretty mouth’s really good for, shall we?”

More tears welled up as his hand brushed your jaw, hooking a thumb to your bottom lip, pushing your mouth open. You couldn’t help the way your tongue grazed over it, tasting salt, whining when you realised it was the taste of your own tears. When your eyes fell open again, you finally caught a look at him, hard and tip weeping, and your brain filled with nothing but want, eclipsing your fear for a mere second, enough to bring Coriolanus to the ground again. He may have done terrible, unspeakable things, but he was still a man. A man who wanted you.

And why did that make your heart beat out of your chest? It thrummed like a hummingbird as you took in the sight of him, unbuttoning his shirt as he waited for you to move.

You’d seen how big he was from a distance. You’d felt him between layers of fabric, and you’d imagined this a million times over. But now, as he stood waiting in front of you, you hesitated, because it all finally felt real. Your mouth watered despite yourself, seeing the mess he’d already made, any more and he’d start dripping -

“Go on, sweetheart. It’s not gonna suck itself.”

Your eyes squeezed shut as you let him past your lips. The heady taste of precum filled your mouth as you ran your tongue along the shaft slowly, trying to start steady. He wasn’t having it. His hand twisted through your hair, pulling you in closer, making you gag a little. You instinctively lifted a hand up to his thigh to brace yourself, and he laughed.

“Giving up so soon? Thought you’d try harder than that.”

He pushed further, and the indignant sound you made as you adjusted only served to spur him on.

You tried to focus on breathing through it, but he slipped in and out your mouth unevenly, and faster than you could think, catching you off guard. He looked down at the way your mouth struggled to take his length as if you were a piece of art, like he was mesmerised by it, and that feeling was encouragement was enough to keep you going. His hand twisted harder in your hair, making a fist, and he swore when you hummed in discomfort.

“Look at you.” He said, strung-out and shaky. “You strut right in here from your silver spoon life, and think you can call the shots? You’ve bitten off more than you can chew, sweetheart. You have no fucking idea what the world is really like. What people are like. What they have to do to survive.”

He moved faster, and you let your jaw go slack. You were barely moving now, he was starting to fuck your throat like he owned it. You’d started to cry again, and when you looked up at him, it was a blur. The furthest you could see was his chest, shirt unbuttoned and falling to the sides, and the dog tag, silver catching in the low light, swinging against his chest as he moved. You closed your eyes again, trying to go somewhere else in your head. Trying to breathe through your nose, to focus on being used, on how good you were making him feel, on finally being his. It was all you had left to hold on to.

But he was unwinding you with his words, knowing just where to press to make it sting, to make the tears fall harder.

“You don’t have any fucking shame about it either. Touching yourself on my bed and wearing my clothes, like you’re – fuck, that’s it - like we’re married or something. Like you’re worth more than everyone else. But look at you. Maybe you were right after all. Maybe you are my whore.” he gritted out.

Tears streamed down your cheeks as you tried desperately to catch your breath between sobs.

“I mean, you sure look like it now, on your knees for me, making a mess of your pretty face. So fucking good. You’re sucking me off better than she did, and you’re barely even trying.”

You hated it. Hated the way his thumb brushed painfully gently against your cheek, dusting away a tear as his cock bruised the back of your throat and you tried not to gag around him. Hated the way his words twisted around in your head, and how fucked up it was that your broken brain took it as praise instead of punishment.

Most of all, you hated the throb between your shaking legs, panties soaked through and probably ruined. Humiliation seeped through you as you imagined it dripping down your legs and onto the floor. Your salty tears spilled down your face, mixing with your spit and his precum. Hating every second, until your head went blank, and you didn’t feel much of anything anymore.

You weren’t sure exactly how it happened.

One second, he was pulling your hair, twitching in your mouth and spilling down your throat, and the next, in what felt like a flash, you were on the floor, loud, wrecked sobs spilling out of you as you held your knees to your chest, face hidden. He was on the floor too - when did he get down? - and his voice was soft, oh so soft and gentle, saying something you couldn’t quite make out, dull and repetitive past your ringing ears.

“- so sorry. I’m so sorry, baby. I know I - I didn’t… I took it too far. Can you hear me, sweetheart? Look at me. Please, look at me. I’m right here.”

You pulled your head from your hands, and through blurred eyes, you looked at him.

This wasn’t a face you’d seen on him before. His brows knitted, lips apart as he stared at you, like you were some wounded animal he wanted to save.

“Talk to me, sweetheart. Please.”

“I can’t…” You trailed off.

“You can tell me.”

Another wave of choked back sobs took over you. He held your jaw up like you were something breakable. Like maybe you’d broken already, and he was holding you together.

“I can’t do this.” You whispered. “Not like-”

He nodded, brushing a tear from your cheek.

“Okay. It’s okay, baby. Tell me what I can do for you. Just say the word.”

You caught your breath, and he flinched a little as you collapsed into his arms. The cool metal of the dog tag pressed into your cheek.

“I don’t know. I’m sorry.” You cried.

“I’m the one who’s sorry. I didn’t realise how far I’d pushed you until… I know I can’t make it up to you, but I’ll try. Whatever you need me to do, I’ll do it. If you want to leave, I understand. I’ll make the arrangements.”

“What? No, that’s not…”

He cut you off, looking into your eyes.

“Decide tomorrow, okay doll? You don’t have to think about that now.”

“I didn’t know about… about the districts.” You hiccupped. “About you. You didn’t want me to know. I ruined everything, I-”

“Listen to me. It doesn’t matter anymore, I promise you. It’s okay, baby.”

You nodded into his chest.

“Here.” He leaned away from you, and you looked up in a question. He took the chain from his neck and placed it in your palm.

“You can have it. So long as nobody sees. You can throw it away, wear it around the house, whatever you want. It’s yours.”

You pressed it between your fingers. It cooled your hot skin like a salve.

“Thank you.” You whispered. Your head sank back onto his chest, and when you spoke again, it was barely audible.

“Coryo?”

He tensed for a second, but relaxed again just as quickly.

“Yeah?”

“Can I stay with you tonight?”

His hand brushed gently against your hair, and you relaxed into it.

“Of course you can.”

a/n: baby's first dubcon scene!! (screams cries and throws up bc navigating that was scary as fuck) p.s one more chapter left!! do we think they'll get their shit together?? who knows!! (i know)

taglist: @superchatnoir07 @itsrainingreid @nycweb-slinger @lookclosernow @etfrin @resibunn @serving-targaryen-realness @harmfulb1tch @demonsnangels @superb-icarus @julesandro @gracieroxzy @slyhersophia @shadowsepiphany @ben-has-arrived @unclecrunkle @zerotwo-sciencequeen @itsleniiilosers @thesiriusmap @ooooglymoooogly @darkqweenn @going-through-shit @loverw1tch @stinkii-boii @tqmqkii @not-avery @natsgf @sleepysongbirdsings @hopebaker @darknight3904 @pemberlystateofmind @bxtchopolis @real-lana-del-rey @24kmar @louweasleymalfoy @m1ndbrand @coconut-dreamz @cosmicgyral @urfavevirgoo @mk15x @theamuz @ashy-kit @violante777 @snowlandstop @badbleep88

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#coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus snow x you #coriolanus snow smut #coriolanus snow #tom blyth #tbosas #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #tom blyth x reader #tom blyth x you #snow x reader #snow x you #attention #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you #the hunger games #x reader #x you smut

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javierpena-inatacvest · 2 months

Text

Maybe, Baby?

Summary: You and Frankie aren't trying for a baby just yet, but when your weird symptoms start to throw your body for a loop, you start to wonder if you actually might be pregnant

Pairing: Husband!Frankie Morales x Wife!Reader (no use of y/n)

Word Count: 5.4K

Warnings: SMUT (18+), Unprotected p in v sex (wrap before u tap, silly gooses), creampie, praise kink, size kink (if u squint), unintentional breeding kink (lmaoooo, it's me, sorry not sorry), birth control/family planning, pregnancy (or maybe not? part 2 maybe? hehe) symptoms, Frankie and reader mention being closer to 30 than 16 (turns out when you're an adult, it's not a teen pregnancy anymore), reader has hair that can be played with, Frankie being the sweetest husband alive (all the gold stars for him), Frankie is so excited to be a dad that I just may pass away

A/N: I know y'all voted for me to finish chapter 20 but i lied (I'm so sorry), but I wrote this in a day and husband Frankie was really speaking to me on this one 😭 This one is brought to you by my raging baby fever and perhaps some real life inspiration WHOOPS, art imitating life on this one ig 💀 Poorly beta'd bc that's how I roll!!!

Ever since getting off birth control a few months ago, your body had felt… different.

While you were glad you had made the change for yourself, you still found yourself shocked every month when a new sort of symptom decided to appear at some point in your cycle that you had never dealt with before- acne in new places, weird cramps, and crazy mood swings that showed up out of nowhere before your period were just a few of the things you were learning to manage as you figured out your body post birth control.

Another symptom you hadn’t expected was that now, you were insatiably horny.

All the time.

While Frankie had been more supportive and caring in helping you deal with all of your not so pleasant symptoms than you could have hoped for, he was also more than happy to help you with your newly found positive one, too.

The only problem was, after so many years of not having to worry about the consequences of your sex life on birth control, you and Frankie were finding it very hard to adjust to be more… careful.

As you got hornier and hornier, the box of condoms that Frankie had bought after you stopped taking the pill had been seeing less and less use, and to be honest, hadn’t really seen the light of day from the back of his nightstand drawer in about a month an a half- and if you were being even more honest, on top of that, Frankie’s pull out game was almost nowhere to be found.

You both knew that you wanted a family in the future- That was a part of your reason for getting off birth control to begin with. The two of you had agreed to hold off at least for a little longer to try and get your life more in order before bringing a baby into it, but with with your new lack of protection when it came to sex, and constant horniness around the clock, you both were beginning to have a feeling that that your agreed upon timeline for having a baby might be harder for you to maintain that you thought.

Especially when you found yourself morphing into an unspeakably horny monster when you were ovulating.

So little did you realize, that as you were brushing your teeth in the bathroom as the two of you were getting ready for bed and you caught a glimpse in the mirror of Frankie, stripping out of his shirt and jeans, leaving him only in his boxers as he searched around in your dresser for pajamas, that was the reason you nearly spit out your entire mouthful of toothpaste to try and get a mouthful of something else.

You couldn’t help but ogle at your husband's broad body and freckled tan skin, muscles flexing as he shuffled through your drawers, pulling out an old, worn gray t-shirt and tugging it over his head, running his hand through his messy, curly hair before searching for his pajama bottoms.

At this point, you had honestly braced yourself on the edge of the bathroom counter to keep yourself from falling over at how mouth-watering he looked, already feeling the wetness beginning to pool in the cotton of your underwear at the thought of wanting to rip his clothes off just as fast as he had put them on.

Letting out a yawn, Frankie raised his hands above his head so a sliver of his soft belly peaked out between his waistband and shirt hem before making his way into the bathroom, sleepily padding along the tile floor until his body was behind yours, chest flushed against your back and arms wrapped around your waist. Even more prevalent, his bulge pressed against your ass, making the wet spot in your underwear grow damper by the second.

“You ready for bed, querida?” Frankie cooed, placing a soft kiss on your shoulder and smiling at your reflections in the mirror.

While you were absolutely ready to get into bed, sleeping was not going to be your activity of choice.

“I think that maybe…” You paused, turning around to face Frankie, his body caging yours against the counter, palms splayed flat on either side of your hips, looking down at you with his sweet, brown eyes, “I think that maybe we should do something else before we go to sleep.”

“Something else, huh?” Frankie smirked, raising his eyebrows at you as your hands began to run up and down his arms, slightly squeezing the muscles of his biceps as your fingers crept under the fabric of his shirt sleeves. “And what might that something else be, Hermosa?”

“You know exactly what it is, Fransisco. You expect me to watch you just roam around shirtless in our bedroom and not get all hot and bothered? God, you’re so fucking hot.” You moaned, letting your hands run up his shoulders and around his neck, pulling him in for a long, electric kiss.

“Damn, what’s gotten into you, babe?” Frankie chuckled, trying his best not to blush at your comment, sliding his arms around your waist, pulling you closer to him.

“I don’t- Fuck, I don’t know, I just know that if you don’t fuck me right this second, I think I’m gonna explode.”

While your statement may have had a flair for the dramatic, it was just about as close to the God’s honest truth as you could get- You were so worked up, you felt practically feral, the ache in your core so strong that you really did feel like you were on the verge of implosion.

Before you even gave Frankie time to respond, your lips were crashing into his with a ferocious intensity, your hands grabbing fistfulls of his t-shirt as you stumbled back towards your bedroom, bodies bumping and bouncing against the walls and door frames, mouths never parting as the back of Frankie’s knees finally hit the mattress, forcing him to fall backwards onto the bed.

Crawling overtop of him, you were already straddled over his hips, grinding your bottom half on the bulge growing in his pajamas as your hands crept under the hem of his t-shirt, running along the tanned, soft skin of his chest, making him let out a low groan that rumbled in his throat.

Frantically shuffling himself further onto the bed, Frankie’s hands dug into your hips and over your ass as your hands slid down from his chest to his waistband, fingers tugging at the elastic to shuffle his bottoms and boxers down his legs, quickly followed by your own, dropping to a crumpled pile on the floor.

Feeling your fingers wrap around his cock, already painfully hard, you swirled the precum leaking from his tip with your thumb before dragging your hand up and down his length, leaving Frankie sitting up in surprise while he watched you begin to hover over him, dragging his dick through your folds.

“Hermosa, are you sure you don’t need me to-” But before Frankie could finish the rest of his protest to make sure you were ready to take him, you were already sinking down onto him, whimpering at the sweet sting and stretch of his fullness, followed by the ragged moan escaping Frankie’s lips.

“Oh fuck… Nuh uh, Frankie. I need to feel you, baby. Needed to feel you inside me.” You whined, taking Frankie cock inch by inch until he had bottomed out inside you, his tip kissing your cervix, the fullness making you cry out in pleasure.

Normally with Frankie’s size, you would have needed to warm you up first, but with how wet and worked up you already were, you were able to take him with ease, desperate to feel him buried deep inside you.

“Jesus fucking christ, queirda, you’re so fucking wet. Fuck, baby.” Frankie moaned, feeling you begin to slide up and down his length, coating him with your arousal with each swirl of your hips.

Arching your back, you jutted your hips forward, bracing your hands on Frankie’s strong thighs, circling your bottom half against his, whimpering at his fullness and the hairs at the base of his cock brushing against your clit, selfishly already longing to chase your own high to ease the ache that had been burning in your core.

“Fuck, Frankie, you feel so good. Feel so fucking full with you in me.” You whimpered, bouncing even harder and faster on Frankie’s cock, the lewd sounds of your skin slapping his and wetness dripping from your heat coating the walls of your bedroom.

“Yeah? This what you wanted, pretty girl? Wanted me to stretch this pretty little pussy out and fill you up?” Frankie groaned, gritting his teeth as he began to jut his hips up into yours as you rode him, the added depth of his thrusts making you cry out in pleasure.

And for as fucking good as it felt, the horny monster you had morphed into had you greedily craving more- to have Frankie stretch you open in a way that had you seeing stars, so much that you could still feel the next day, long after the two of you were finished.

“I-I want more, p-please, baby. Fuck- Fuck me harder, Fransisco.” You cried, your sweet voice whimpering his full name turning him almost as feral as you were, letting out a low growl as he grabbed you by your hips, flipping you so that your back hit the mattress and he was caging his broad body over yours.

Practically ripping the t-shirt still covering your upper half off your body, Frankie dove face first between your breasts, groping one while hungrily sucking at the other, flicking your pebbled nipple with his tongue, his free hand reaching down to line his cock back up with your entrance, sliding back in to your aching core with ease.

Frankie let himself sink all the way back in, filling you to the brim before hooking his arms around your knees, pressing your legs against your stomach, smirking to himself at the ragged moan you let out as the new angle opened you up even further.

“You want me to fuck you harder, Hermosa?” Frankie mewled, slowly dragging his length out of your heat, looking down to see your shiny slick soaking his cock before looking back at you and the wrecked expression plastered across your face, frantically nodding in desperation. “Tell me how badly you want it, sweet girl.”

“Fuck, I need you so bad, Fransisco, please.” You begged, damn near close to tears with how deeply you needed to feel Frankie ease the emptiness inside you. “Please, baby, I- oh fuck-”

Before you could even finish the rest of your plea, your breath was already hitched in the back of your throat as Frankie began to pound into you at a relentless pace, tightening his grip around your thighs while he pressed them closer to your chest, grunting with each rut of his hips into yours.

“This what you want, querida? Meirda- so fucking wet and tight, baby girl. You feel so fucking good, holy fuck.”

It didn’t take long for the all too familiar tingle at the base of your spine to start spreading through your body like a wildfire as Frankie continued to slam into your g-spot, making you chant his name like a prayer, your brain at a loss for any other words than “Fuck, Fransisco.”

And as if you already weren’t close enough, when Frankie reached down to thumb at your clit, rubbing in relentless circles against your sensitive nub, you knew you were a fucking goner.

“That’s it, Hermosa. Cum for me, baby. Want that- oh fuck- want that prefect pussy to fucking soak me.” Frankie groaned, feverishly pounding into you, desperate to feel you come undone for him giving him long enough to fight off his own high that was rapidly building in the pit of his stomach.

A few more thrusts were all it took to have the coil snapping in your belly, crying out Frankie’s name as you came, orgasm ripping through your body with a blinding intensity, eyes scrunching shut and jaw hanging open while pleasure and euphoria flowed through every ounce of you.

Still blissed out and wrecked out of your mind, your eyes shot open as Frankie’s mouth crashed into yours, swallowing your whimpers and moans in a messy dance of tongues and teeth.

“Fuck, you’re so fucking pretty when you cum. Jesus fuck- fuck, I’m close too, baby. W-where do you want me, Hermosa?” Frankie asked, barley holding on long enough for you to answer, his thrusts becoming sloppier and sloppier as his hips began to stutter, gritting his teeth and furrowing his brow with every ounce of self control he had left.

Still barley coherent enough to form a sentence, your brain blurted out the only thing you could think of, and the only thing that you really wanted in the moment.

“Inside, Fransisco. Fuck, cum inside me, baby.”

That alone was almost enough to send Frankie over the edge, letting out a long, low groan, sloppily rutting into you as his brain went blank alongside yours, starting to babble incoherently.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck- you want me to fill you up, queirda? Fuck, I’ll fucking fill you up so good you’ll be dripping out of me for days. Oh fuck, shit baby, fuck, oh I’m gonnaahhhhhh-“

Just like that, Frankie took one last thrust, spilling deep inside you, coating your walls with his spend as his body slumped into yours, the pair of your chests rising and falling in sync as you both came back down to earth.

“Jesus Christ… Holy fuck, Frankie.” You giggled quietly to yourself, blissfully filled with post orgasm ecstasy as your husband carefully pulled himself out before rolling over next to you on the bed, pulling you close against his chest.

“Fuck me, Hermosa, holy shit.” Frankie chuckled, pressing a soft kiss into your forehead, tracing small circles on your back as he held you, heat radiating off of each other's sweat-ridden bodies. “God, I love you. We should probably get you cleaned up. You wanna shower?” He asked, smirking as your face lit up at his nearly rhetorical question.

“Only if you’re up for round 2, Morales.”

“My eyes are up here, Fransisco.”

“Hmmm? What did you say?”

“Exactly my point. Can you stop looking with your man eyes and look with your normal, helpful people eyes to help me decide on a dress for Benny and Victoria’s wedding?” You sighed, laughing to yourself as you raised an eyebrow at Frankie, his gaze still fixed on your chest.

“Sorry, sorry, I’ll be helpful.” Frankie huffed, overdramatically rolling his eyes at you, playfully throwing his hands up in defense as he leaned back against the dressing room door, looking you up and down in one of the cute floral dresses you had picked to try on for your friends’ upcoming wedding. “It’s just that… Nevermind.”

“It’s just that what, Frank?” You asked tilting your head in confusion at your husband as his eyes traveled back to your breasts, furled look in his brow like he was really staring there to prove a point.

“It’s just that- Baby, I don’t know if it’s just the dress or what, but your boobs look huge. Like, they always look good, believe me, but like… Whew.” Frankie whistled, practically shaking his head in disbelief at how good you looked.

“Really?” You asked, turning around to face the mirror in the dressing room, gently cupping your breasts, grimacing as you held them in your hands. “Yeah, I guess they do… Honestly, I was gonna complain about how sore they’ve been all day. I wonder if maybe my period is just coming early?”

“Maybe? You did ride me pretty hard the last couple nights and put on a good show, so maybe they hurt from all that bouncing and-”

“Frankie! We are in public!” You playfully scolded, giving him a flimsy slap to the chest to cut off the rest of his thought, the two of you quietly giggling to yourselves and trying to “Shhhh” each other from drawing too much attention to your dressing room stall. “The dress, you goofball, yes or no? Sooner we pick, the sooner we can go get food, because your wife is starving.”

“I vote yes on the dress. You look beautiful in it, querida.” Frankie smiled, stepping behind you to press a kiss on the side of your head.

“You just like it because it makes my boobs look huge.”

“What? Can you blame me for wanting to stare at my gorgeous wife’s boobs all night?”

“God, you are ridiculous, Fransisco. Fine, boob dress wins. Now let’s get out of here and go get some food before you get stuck in a titty trance and I die of hunger.”

While the rest of your Saturday was spent enjoying the delicious Mexican food that you had picked up on the way home and a much needed night in on the couch with Frankie, there was a tiny part of your brain that couldn’t seem to shake his comment from earlier about how big your boobs looked.

You’d be lying if you said you didn’t agree with him, because truth be told, they felt huge, too. They had been sore since you had woken up this morning, and while you had chalked it up to what you and Frankie had been up to the past few nights, or bad PMS symptoms, there was still just something about you that felt off.

Later that night, during your movie marathon, you had paused whatever new action movie Frankie had been begging to watch since it had popped up on Netflix a few days ago for a popcorn refill.

While Frankie meandered around the kitchen waiting for the next bag of popcorn to finish popping, you stayed curled up with your blanket in your corner of the couch, mindlessly scrolling through your phone, until a sharp twinge began to cramp in your lower stomach. The feeling took you by surprise, digging your fingers into your side to try and ease the dull and achy sensation as your face scrunched in confusion, wondering why in the world you had what felt like period cramps in your belly.

“Hey, you okay, Hermosa?” Frankie asked, returning with popcorn in hand, his face painted with concern to see the pained look scrunched between your brow as you curled deeper into the couch.

“Oh, y-yeah, I’m fine. I just um, I just had a weird cramp I guess. Probably just ate all that popcorn too fast.” You replied, trying to convince yourself just as much as you were trying to convince Frankie that you were overthinking whatever mystery symptoms had just flashed through your lower half.

“Here, lemme just set this popcorn down and then I can rub your back while we finish the movie, okay?” Frankie smiled softly, setting down the bowl on the coffee table before crawling back under the sea of blankets on the couch with you, laying your head against his thigh like a pillow while his hand traced up and down along the small of your back.

“Thanks, Frankie.” You whispered quietly, taking a few deep breaths as the familiar warmth of your husband’s palm worked up and down the worn fabric of his shirt that you had put on earlier.

“Of course, baby. If you need anything else, just let me know, okay? Just promise me you’ll take it easy on the popcorn if you have any more there, Killer.”

The two of you laughed quietly as Frankie leaned down to press a soft kiss into your messy hair laid across his lap before picking up the remote to let the rest of the movie play as your eyelids began to get heavier and heavier as you slowly drifted off to sleep.

“What’s inside this box?”

“Open it up and find out! It’s a surprise for you!”

“Okay? Huh, why is it just a pregnancy test in there?”

“It’s yours! Congratulations! You’re having a baby!”

“Ahhhhh!” You shrieked, panting as you woke from a cold sweat, shooting up from the couch. “What the fuck…” You whispered to yourself, coming to and realizing that you were now awake and had only been dreaming moments before this. Running your hands over your face, you blinked a few times to be greeted by the dim light of the TV still flickering in the background, Frankie sprawled out and snoring by your side where the two of you must have fallen asleep on the couch during the movie.

“What a weird fucking dream…” You sighed to yourself, shaking your head as you quietly pushed yourself off the couch to stumble to the bathroom, pulling your phone out of your sweatpants pocket to check what ungodly hour of the night it had to be since the two of you had crashed on the couch.

2:07 A.M.

You let out a low grumble, pushing your sweatpants down to your ankles as you sat down to pee, blinking your eyes open wider to look through the notifications piled on top of each other on your lockscreen. Mindlessly swiping through a few junk emails and text messages from group chats, one notification in particular caught your eye, rousing you from your half awake state.

“Feeling down? As you begin your Luteal Phase of your cycle, it’s normal to be less cheerful compared to last week when you were Ovulating! Click to track your cycle symptoms for today!”

Oh shit.

You could feel your heart beginning to race as you opened up the app, scrolling to the calendar tracker for the month. Swiping through the days, it didn’t take you long to realize that despite all of your weird symptoms you had been chalking up to PMS, you were almost two weeks away from starting your period. Frantically scrolling backwards, you began to try and rack your brain of all of the times in the past week that you had sex with Frankie while you would have been ovulating, and out of that number, how many times he hadn’t finished inside you, let alone even attempt to pull out.

And that number was a big, fat zero.

That’s when it hit you like a fucking freight train- You weren’t PMS-ing.

More than likely, you were pregnant.

“Holy fuck…” You whispered to yourself, your voice trembling and heart pounding as you buried your face in your trembling hands, your mind flooding with a million different thoughts all at once.

How could you not remember that you were ovulating? Would Frankie be upset? The two of you weren’t even trying for kids right now. Would you be a good Mom? What were you even going to need to do to prepare? Your house was starting to get small for just you and Frankie, let alone a baby. How were you going to find a new place to live in 9 months? And get a new car? How were you-

“Baby, you good in there?” Frankie groaned, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes as he stumbled into the bathroom, letting out a yawn as he opened the door, bright light flooding into the hallway and revealing the sobbing mess you had become, still pants down, hunched over the toilet.

“Woah, hey, hey, hey. Baby, baby, what’s going on? Talk to me, Hermosa. Are you okay? What happened?” You could feel Frankie’s demeanor immediately switch as soon as he saw you in the bathroom, instantly dropping to his knees by your side, his hands gently grabbing your face to shift your gaze towards him, carefully swiping his thumb to dry the tears that had been streaming down your cheeks.

“Frankie, I- I- Fuck.” You stuttered, gulping hard as you tried to catch your breath, fighting back your nervous sobs as you locked eyes with Frankie, wondering how in the world you were ever about to brace him for the news you were about to tell him.

“Hermosa, what is it? Please, tell me baby, what’s wrong?” Frankie pleaded, softly squeezing your face in reassurance as he waited for your response.

You took a few more deep breaths, composing yourself enough to at least try to get a coherent thought out, swallowing hard as the words left your mouth.

“Frankie, I-, Frankie, I think- I think I’m pregnant.”

Frankie’s eyes went wide, his jaw practically hanging open as he tried to process what you had just told him, wondering if he hadn’t heard you right in his groggy state.

“W-what?”

“I think I might be pregnant, Frankie.”

Before you could even bear the thought of looking at his face again, filled with fear that it would be a look of shock and disappointment, you buried your face in your hands again, fighting with everything in you not to cry and keep your composure.

Frankie sat quietly for a moment, his hand covering up the gaping hole his jaw had made as it nearly hit the floor, shaking his head in disbelief before wrapping his hand around your wrist, pulling your hands to look at him.

“R-really? You- fuck- You really think you’re pregnant?”

As your eyes met his, you couldn’t believe the look on your husbands face- Not only was Frankie practically grinning from ear to ear, the sweet brown of his puppy dog eyes were welling with happy tears of their own, waiting on your every word as if he still didn’t believe what he was hearing. Silently, you began to slowly nod your head, biting down on your tongue, your heart feeling like it was about to shoot out of your chest.

“You’re...y-you’re not upset?” You stammered, sitting up a little taller at Frankie’s reaction.

“Upset? Hermosa, why in the world would I ever be upset?” Frankie laughed quietly, gently tucking a stray piece of hair behind your ear as his other hand cupped your jaw. “Querida… There’s nothing more I want on this earth than to have a family. And-fuck- The fact that it gets to be with you? That you might give me a family? How could I ever be upset about that?

“Well it’s not like we were really trying for a baby, Frank. We said another year or two. With the house and money -”

“Hey. We’ll figure it all out, okay? I promise, we’ll be more than okay.” Frankie smiled, his goofy grin still stretched wide between his cheeks, finally easing some of your worry.

“I don’t even feel like I’m old enough to have a kid. I feel like I need to call up MTV to tell them I’ll be on the next season of 16 and Pregnant.” The two of you snorted, shaking your heads in awestruck disbelief that a stupid joke about a reality TV show could soon become your reality.

“Well considering we’re married, have a house, and most importantly, are much closer to 30 than we are 16, I think they may have a hard time pitching the show “Married Couple Has a Baby”.” Frankie teased, giving you a playful nudge as the two of you laughed, giving you a few seconds to catch your breath before trying to dig into details. “Did- Did you take a test? How long have you known?”

“No, I don’t know for sure yet, Frank. It’s… It’s just a feeling, I guess. But the huge, sore boobs, weird, period-like cramps and the fact that we really haven’t been the most careful are all pretty good clues.”

“Well, I mean, I don’t know, we’ve tried to be care-”

Before Frankie could even finish the rest of his thought, you were already giving him the sassiest look you could muster in your overwhelmed and sleepy state, making the two of you laugh again he let out a sigh of defeat.

“Okay, yeah, we really haven’t been that careful at all. Sweetie, listen, I- I know it’s not what we had planned, but… I mean, if you are pregnant…” Frankie paused, smiling at your stomach as he gently place a hand over your belly, tears welling in his chocolate brown eyes, “Baby, I would be so excited. Nervous as hell, but so fucking excited.”

“Me too.” You sniffed, looking down at Frankie’s palm splayed across your stomach, heart swelling at the thought of Frankie being dad, thinking of how sweet and caring and perfect he’d be as you grew your little family together. Wrapping your arms around his neck, you pulled Frankie in close, letting out a shaky sigh, whispering your words through happy tears.

“I love you so much, Frankie.”

“I love you so much too, Hermosa. More than anything.”

For the sake of Frankie’s shoulder, you pulled away to wipe your tears to keep from soaking your husband’s shirt, quietly laughing to yourself at the fact that this whole time you had been talking to Frankie, you had still been pantsless, hunched over the toilet.

“It probably would have been way more romantic to tell you all of this not at 2:30 in the morning, pantsless and hunched over the toilet like a little gremlin.” You snorted, Frankie following suit as he shook his head, running his hand through the sleepy curls of your hair.

“I wouldn’t want it any other way, mi amor. C’mon, let’s get you up to bed.”

As the two of you sleepily trotted your way upstairs, curling together under the warmth of your comforter with Frankie’s chest pressed against your back, you couldn’t help but smile as his arm draped over your stomach, hand resting on your belly while his thumb traced soft circles on your skin, imagining what it would be like if a few months from now if you really were getting ready to add another member to your family.

The next morning, as the sunrise began to spill through your curtains, casting bright orange and pink shadows on your bedroom walls, you couldn’t help but stir as the familiar scent and warmth of Frankie’s body was missing from his side of the bed.

As you sat up in the sea of blankets and comforters, softly rubbing the sleep out of your eyes, you saw Frankie’s frame quietly sneaking through the bedroom door, fresh mug of coffee and bag of breakfast in hand with a stupid smile plastered across his face as he was greeted with your barely awake grin.

“Good morning, beautiful.” Frankie cooed, setting down the coffee and breakfast down on your nightstand as he sat down next to you on the edge of the bed, pressing a tender kiss into the sleep-ridden ends of your hair before wrapping his arms around you in a long embrace.

“Good morning, handsome.” You yawned, stretching your arms over your head, letting out a little grunt and laying your head on Frankie’s shoulder. “What’s all this for?” You asked, gesturing towards the coffee and oversized McDonald’s bag, assuming it was the reason for Frankie’s absence when you woke up.

“I- I don’t know, I uh- I was just really excited when I got up this morning. It was early, and I didn’t wanna wake you up, so I made a trip to CVS to buy some pregnancy tests for you and figured I’d pick up breakfast on the way home.” Frankie smiled sheepishly, rubbing his hand over the back of his neck, brushing past his untamed morning curls. “I know- I know you can’t really take the tests yet- I spent a lot of time reading the boxes in the store and wasn’t really sure what the best one was to take, so I got like, 4 different ones for when it's time.”

“God, you’re so sweet. You’re the best, you know that? It’s about to be a long week of waiting before I can take one of those. Do you- fuck, Frankie, do you think it could really be positive?” You asked, tears beginning to well in your eyes again as you smiled up at your husband, already beaming back at you, picturing the two pink lines showing up on all of the tests he had bought for you.

“Maybe, if we’re lucky.” He smirked, gently cupping your face, swiping his thumb across your face. “But if it’s not, then maybe… Maybe we start trying for a positive one on purpose.”

“R-really?” You grinned, biting down on your lip in excitement.

“Really, really.” Frankie replied, bringing his lips to yours in a long, slow kiss, soaking in the sweet taste of you on his tongue. “And maybe…”

“Maybe, what, Fransisco?” You giggled, bringing your mouth back to his in a sweet and sloppy kiss.

“Maybe…. We start trying right now, ya know, just to be sure. Wouldn’t want all those pregnancy tests to go to waste.”

Taglist:

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rafeandonlyrafe · 2 months

Text

pizza night

words: 2.2k

warnings: mentions/implications of sex but no actual smut, best friend!rafe, jealousy, angst but happy ending, friends to lovers, rafe with another girl, reader sleeps with kelce

“PIZZA NIGHT!” you shout, rafe letting out a whoop as you carry in the two boxes, plain cheese for you, and a mess of toppings for rafe.

“was worried you weren't gonna show up.” rafe glances at the clock. you're only about five minutes late, only running behind because the pizza place was busy and your order wasn't ready on time.

“as if i would miss our weekly pizza night.” you roll your eyes. you've had to shift times around occasionally to make sure you get the pizza night in, like for rafes football schedule, or you having to help your parents out at a fundraiser. for the past three years, it's been every thursday night, even both getting pizza from your respective locations while you facetime when you're not both in the outer banks.

“come here.” rafe opens his arms up to you. you step into his familiar hold, strong arms wrapping around you, tugging you against his chest. you inhale his scent, so uniquely rafe.

he's been your best friend for as long as you can remember, your parents being friends when both became pregnant around the same time. you did everything together. pizza nights started as plum puree, as your mom loves to joke.

“what do you wanna watch tonight?” rafe asks, knowing whatever you put on will soon become background noise to your chatting, rafe happy to listen to any gossip you have to say.

“umm…” you tap your finger against your chin as rafe plates your pizza for you, loading his plate with three slices for himself. you know he's already got your preferred drink sitting on the coffee table. “mulan.”

“sure.” rafe nods. he used to argue when he was younger. you'd want barbie swan lake or a romcom while he prefered superheroes and action. he learned throughout your friendship to just not fight it.

you immediately start to tell rafe the latest gossip, filling him in on everything he's missed since you saw him last, even though it was only two days ago.

“oh and you'll never guess!” you squeal. “callie, my friend from florida?” you see if the name jogs rafes memory, which he quickly nods. how could he forget. the one other friend that competes with him, despite you only seeing her for weeks at a time when you went to visit your grandparents in florida. “she's coming to the outer banks! she's gonna stay with us for the summer while her parents travel.”

“oh, nice.” rafe nods. he's happy for you, he really is, but he hopes she's not going to get in the way of his time with you, especially pizza night.

“girl, why didn’t you tell me rafe is hot as fuck?” callie giggles, looking out the window where rafe and a couple of his friends are chatting on the patio.

“ew.” you scrunch your nose up. you mean the criticism about callie finding him attractive, not about rafes looks, but callie doesn’t take it that way as she rolls her eyes.

“seriously, he’s so fine.” she slices into another lemon, handing one half to you as you squeeze it to make fresh lemonade.

you just frown. you don’t want callie to find rafe attractive and you’re not sure why the jealous feeling builds in your gut, so you quickly change the subject.

“wanna come to a party friday night? at kelces.” you question.

“oh my god, yes.” callie nods, helping you carry out cups while you bring out the pitcher of lemonade, pouring a glass for yourself and whichever one of your friends also wants one before sitting next to rafe.

callie takes the open spot on the other side of him as the conversation instantly strikes back up. you remain quieter than normal, eyes flicking between them as you watch them interact. you’re glad they’re getting along, truly, but you feel like gouging your eyes out when callie laughs and places her hand on his bicep.

“you okay?” rafe asks after everyone else had gone home, callie having taken your car back to your place to shower while you plan on asking rafe to drive you home.

“yeah.” you put on a wide smile. “whats up?”

“you just seem quieter than usual.” rafe watches your face carefully, noting the way your face falls before you perk back up with a shake of your head.

“nope, im fine. just glad you're getting along with callie!”

“speaking of…” rafe pulls his phone out, handing it to you. “can i have her number?”

“oh… yeah.” you nod quickly, grabbing his phone and typing in her number. you have it memorized along with rafes and your mom and dads, the only ones you’ve typed in enough to know by heart. “why do you want it though?”

“i thought i’d get to know her a bit.” rafe shrugs.

“okay.” you force a smile on your face before standing up. “im gonna walk home. see you thursday for pizza night!”

“y/n, wait-” rafe tries to call you back, but you’ve already disappeared into the house.

you struggle to knock on the door with the pizza boxes in your arms. usually its unlocked, or rafe is there to open it for you the second your car pulls in the driveway.

“shit.” rafe opens the door, his face pale.

“what?” you shove past him, needing to set the cardboard boxes down.

you walk into the kitchen, going to place the boxes down on the counter when you realize there is already a box sitting there, opened up with a couple slices missing. you carefully slide the boxes out of your arms onto the marble before looking at rafe.

“i-i forgot-” rafe says as you look into the living room, seeing callie sat on the couch, her eyes on the television screen as she takes a bite of pizza.

“you forgot about our pizza night?” you question, not even trying to hide your tears this time as they form in your eyes.

“i just didn’t realize it was thursday, y/n i-”

“its fine.” you shake your head, heading towards the door. you need to leave before your emotions explode.

“y/n, please.” rafe grabs your hand right as you reach for the doorknob.

“no.” you turn around to look at rafe, knowing that there are tears streaming down your cheeks, yet you still attempt to force a smile. “no, go. have fun with her.”

you pull out of his grasp and leave, rafe standing on the front porch watching you drive away.

“coming to the party?” callie asks, wearing a tiny dress with high heels, showing off her flawless legs.

“nah.” you shake your head. “im feeling kinda tired.”

“alright.” callie frowns, but doesn’t push you any farther as she walks towards the front door, looking back once before leaving.

you are genuinely tired. you stayed up all last night waiting to hear callie arrive back at your house from rafes. she didn’t get home until 10 in the morning the next day. you know rafe has slept with girls before, but usually when he’s way too drunk after a party, and never with a girl you considered your friend.

you turn the tv on to a random channel, just needing something to distract yourself and stop you from crying again.

hours tick by as the sun sets, your eyes burning from staring at the television and holding back tears when a sudden knock on the door makes you jump.

you stand up, hoping its rafe, hoping he’s coming to apologize and to put all his attention back on you. you feel bad when you open the door and see its topper, your face no doubt giving away your disappointment.

“y/n, are you okay?” he asks. “you aren’t at the party.” he states the obvious as you stand in your sweatpants and a flimsy tanktop.

“just not feeling it.” you shrug.

“is it… callie and rafe?” topper asks. he doesn’t need you to confirm as tears well in your eyes.

“i-i like him. i didn’t even realize until i saw them together.” you finally admit it to yourself why you’re so upset.

“shit.” topper pulls you into a hug as you cry into his shirt, glad for his comfort as he rubs his hand up and down your back, hoping he can help you feel better.

“i shouldn’t be telling you this…” topper sighs. “but kelce has a crush on you. if you want to go to the party and… i don’t know, make rafe jealous back.”

“he won’t get jealous.” you shake your head. “he likes her.”

topper just stares at you with a look of pity. so in your head about your friendship that you can’t even put together the pieces that rafe likes you back.

you look down at your outfit. honestly, you can’t even manage to put on anything other than your crocs, you’re not going to change into a dress and heels just to dance up on a guy you don’t even really like.

“just come wearing that.” topper says, sensing your apprehension. “im serious, you look good. it’ll show how different you are then all the other girls there.”

you look back into your house at your couch, the tv still turned on before looking back to topper. he nods at you with encouragement.

“i need to get drunk immediately.” you tell him as he laughs, pulling you out the door.

you let out a groan as you turn over, snuggling into water warm body is wrapped around you as sleep slowly clears from your head.

“good morning, beautiful.” kelce says, making you blink your eyes open as the memories of last night come back, of ignoring rafe and callie dancing together as you move to kelce. topper was beyond right about the outfit as you captured the eye of most of the guys there, especially rafe as he tried to get your attention, but you were up in kelces room before he could steal you away.

it felt good to sleep with kelce, but not completely right.

“morning.” you smile. kelce is handsome, especially with the warm morning light shining in on the two of you, but your heart hurts as you wish it was rafes face you were looking into.

“can i have you again?” kelce asks, reaching down to grab your ass.

“yeah.” you nod with a smile. another distraction won’t hurt.

“where were you?” rafe asks as you arrive home, not expecting to see him snuggled up to callie on the couch.

“sleeping with kelce.” you say with a shrug. if rafe isn’t gonna hide his relationship with callie, you certainly aren’t going to hide what you were doing either.

“he doesn’t care about you, y/n.” rafe stands up, callies face shifting to one of worry as she looks between the two of you, realization sinking in. “he just wants to sleep with you.”

“okay, and?” you laugh, a bitter, spiteful laugh. “he’s got a big dick, and maybe i just wanted to sleep with him too.”

you stomp away towards your room, blaring music from your speaker the second you’re inside. you don’t want to hear any noise rafe and callie might make as you flop down on your bed, quickly falling asleep despite the blaring music.

the music being turned down wakes you up as someone sits on your bed. you groan and turn onto your back, expecting to see rafe.

“callie?” you question, glancing at the bag slung over his shoulder and the suitcase sitting in your open doorway.

you sit up quickly. “are you going to stay with rafe?”

“no.” she says with a gentle laugh and shake of her head. “im going back to florida.”

“what?” you question.

“i didn’t mean to come between you and him. i thought you didn’t like him. i… i don’t want this to ruin our friendship, so i’m leaving. he was fun to be with, but it was never serious for either of us. he’s serious about you.”

the words sink in as you look to her with hope in your eyes. “you talked to him about it?”

“i did.” she smiles with a gentle nod, glancing towards the clock on your nightstand. “the taxi is waiting outside to take me to the airport.”

you shoot forward to wrap your arms around callie, pulling her into a tight hug. “thank you.”

“of course.” she holds you back just as tight. “come visit me in florida, okay?”

you nod enthusiastically before she gets up to leave.

“finally.” topper sighs with relief as he opens the door to tanneyhill. “i’ve been trying to get him to go over and talk to you for the past four hours.” topper pulls you inside before you can even react. “seriously, you guys just need to date already. he slept with callie, you slept with kelce, and now you’re even. go make out.” topper shoves you into the living room before fleeing.

it takes a second for rafe to look up, his eyes red with tears.

“i had no clue.” rafe shakes his head. “i had no clue you liked me. i never would have done anything with callie if i knew. i thought i’d never get to have you, so i thought settling for your friend would be the next best thing.”

“i don’t like you.” you say before quickly clarifying. “i love you, rafe.”

rafe is standing and making his way towards you so quickly that you don’t even process his movements until his lips meet yours in a fierce kiss.

you hesitate for a moment before kissing back, feeling his arms wrap around your body, holding you tight to him, not allowing you to escape or leave ever again.

taglist: @drewstarkeyslut @forstarkey @f4ll-for-you @dilvcv @drudyslut @jjmaybankswifes-blog @rafescokenostril @jjsmarijuana @seeingstarks @angelofcigs @cece45450 @babygorewhore @vanessa-rafesgirl @michelleisheres-blog @outerbankspov @drewstarkeyswifehoe @cutielando @sourkittie @rafeyslove @rafeinterlude @bellbottombaby @deeaardiary @rubixgsworld @wearemadeofstardust0 @leighbronk @starkeysheart @pradabambie @tobesolovelysstuff @alexiskirkland @rafestar @brioffthegrid @juniebugg @magicalyoura @cokepewpsii @mysticallystilinski @luvdella @aerangi @vogueprincess @auryyz @raysmayhem-72 @thestarlithideout @marvelfanfics1recs @rafesgiirl @ditzyzombiesblog @chiaraanatra @tobiaslut @drewsephrry @1aarii1 @winterrrnight @bejeweledreverie

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sharkylass · 14 days

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YOU I LIKE YOU @faislittlewhiteraven These questions are a little hard to answer with doodles but I tried my best- Nil generally has a pretty heroic and brave personality overall. She's loud and brash and ready to jump into things super quickly.

She's not the best with words, but she is very reliable overall

More art and writing under cut, it's just a long post man-

In terms of helping about during travels, she likes doing a lot of heavy labor jobs- She's the type to fix broken fences, gather supplies for folks, carry stuff around, tend to crops or lend a help wrangling animals. Nil wouldn't be great at things like sorting and organizing tho- Just tell her what you need and where to put it and she will! I mentioned she's not really the best with words (she is very emotionally intelligent just sometimes struggles to communicate stuff), HOWEVER, With folks that have been frozen she connects with a lot. How it's scary that you've been frozen for so long when your entire belief is to change and evolve, how (if Mal Du Pays is anything to go by) they had to fight their own demons in there, how everything can change so easily without you even noticing- It's terrifying to think about.

Actually- a while ago I made battle sprites with Nil- I wasn't happy with them so I never shared them BUT

Specifically I wanted to contrast her frozen sprite with everyone else's- Cause if she were to SOMEHOW be frozen again, knowing what it feels like, what could happen while she's out- It would TERRIFY her instantly. Not just a mild shock or surprise, it would stick with her for a while-

Speaking of battles tho-

Nil is super brash and lively as a whole. She puts up a brave face for a LOT of things, including fighting. She jumps in without really thinking, and as long as it goes their way, she'd have a smile on her face doing it.

However, while brave, it does come from both a place of coping and naivety. She's not used to genuine fighting, in fight or flight situations she actually tends to flee. (Which is why honestly, if she had to fight the King I don't think she could do it-)

If a battle were to start going south, she'd actually start to panic more then anyone else- Physical wounds and seeing the people she loves hurt would lower her accuracy and general capabilities, despite the brave face she puts on.

And due to her lack of experience, especially in bigger groups- Nil tends to... miscalculate sometimes

She had to learn the hard way not to just jump at any opportunity she sees. The party can see where Bonnie got it from (also after the battle Nille proceeded to heal Sif, profusely apologizing, I forgot to doodle that whoops-) (Also gameplay wise, imagine every second turn she does an action of her own without your command)

Also just the Sif image by itself cause I liked it :]

As for chores and stuff-

She does foraging and stuff! Honestly I don't think the other 5 would have done so before they traveled together.

Mira would have most DEFINITELY learned about it but didn't feel confident in her abilities. Bonnie will grab stuff they think is edible from what they remember Nille telling them and they'd grab a stick to cook. Odile would not be interested and would prefer buying the ingredients rather then wild scavenging. Isa doesn't read to me as a biology student, I see him more of a math history type of guy, so either he doesn't know, or him and Mira did it occasionally together, but only as a last resort type of deal (maybe when it was just the two of them and they had to manage alone) And Sif in my mind is an accident prone goober who'd forget which ones are edible and which ones aren't so I wouldn't trust him personally.

SO! LONG STORY SHORT! I don't think any of them are really experienced with foraging. And as a means to make money management easier- I imagine Nil (nature being a passion of sorts to her) took up the mantle! Probably taught the rest how to do it too!

That's it when it comes to stuff specific to her- Other then that she's kind of ready to help out with anything! She can help set up tends, do odd jobs for money, help cook if for WHATEVER reason Bonnie wanted her to or wanted to do something else in that time, bring water, wood, fish, help with weapons- She's not the best at those things, but if anyone needs a hand to be lent- she is there!

I'll be entirely honest, I don't think I understand your last question- But I do wanna say that Nil and Isa become like. Best buds real quick. He is the first one she instantly trusts, since she rivals with Mira, is prickly with Odile and Sif is someone she wants to help rather then ask for help. So if she needs someone to turn to, or needs a partner in crime- Nil would turn to Isa And now I just imagined Mira and Nil bonding over how to grow plants. Cause Mira tried REALLY REALLY HARD and couldn't do it, so Nille would actually love to give some tips- Imagine Mira genuinely walking up to her with a little alive plant with a proud glint in her eyes and have Nil fully support her- Honestly I could keep going for forever, I have so many thoughts on her and her dynamic with everyone- Bro I even have nicknames, you don't even know-

BUT I'M GONNA CUT IT HERE, HAVE FUN, I'VE BROUGHT SOME FOOD FOR NOW-

#isat #isat spoilers #in stars and time spoilers #only cause of mal du pays tho honestly #in stars and time #isat nille #isat sif #isat mira #isat petronille #in stars and time nille #in stars and time petronille #lord give me strenght (its 5am I am not awake-)

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golden-cherry · 11 months

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deal - cl16 (9/?)

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Series Summary: Your whole life has gone to shit. Your boyfriend broke up with you, you just lost your job and the Monegasque, who suddenly stands in your doorway, claims that it’s his apartment.

Chapter Summary: Finding an outfit is harder that it seams. Especially when your roommate can't really help you, because he's at his other apartment.

Warnings: fluff, angst (whoops), mentions of cheating (not Charles), mentions of smut (oral, fingering, p in v), angry Charles, text messages

Word Count: 3.6k

series masterlist

previous part

A/N: here it is friends. did my absolute best and honestly, I'm sweating so hard. I chose the name for Charles ex bc it’s the name of the girl my best friend absolutely despises. and this is not a Charlotte hate acc. hope you like it still. feedback is appreciated!

The weather app on your phone is of relatively little help.

Charles had said that you were going out to dinner around eight o'clock in the evening, and according to the app, it should still be fifteen degrees then, even though it's December. While he had said that "it doesn't matter what you wear," but if you were going to be spending more time with him soon, and by extension his friends, you would want to make a good first impression.

Not that your first impression on Charles was particularly good.

Since you promised Charles that he could sleep in his bed tonight, you try to keep the mess of clothes to a minimum. Instead of pulling each piece of clothing out of the closet and then tossing it into the nearest corner because it doesn't match what you had in mind, you put things neatly folded back in their place.

After your roommate left the apartment, you started cleaning up your room so it wouldn't be too embarrassing if Charles stayed there tonight. After all, he doesn't need to see your underwear or the little stuffed animal turtle that sleeps in bed with you. Generally things that maybe old friends know about you, but definitely not the roommate you've been living with for two days.

The roommate who is no help to you when it comes to choosing clothes for tonight. Since he hasn't told you which restaurant it is, you don't know exactly what the dress code looks like, which is why you're now standing in front of the closet at a loss.

In Monaco, when it comes to restaurant choice, anything is possible. You could dine at Le Louis XV, the most expensive restaurant in Monte-Carlo, or Jack Monaco, which is significantly cheaper, but you have a direct view of the harbor with the oversized and expensive yachts.

Secretly, you hope it won't be too expensive tonight. Joris would pay you back the rent soon, but you're still unemployed and unfortunately can't live quite as carefree Charles, who apparently has enough money at his disposal to have not one, but two apartments in Monaco.

A fact that you would never blame him for.

When you can't find anything that would theoretically go with any restaurant visit, you drop onto the bed, annoyed. It can't be that hard to find something, right? You fish your cell phone out of the pocket of your sweater and start typing.

Briefly, you consider actually sending the message, but alas, you're so desperate that you feel you have no choice. You hit send and are about to throw the phone across the room as if you've just confessed to your school crush that you like him.

But Charles isn't your school crush. He's your roommate and first and foremost your friend, which is why you just drop the phone on the bed next to you.

You sit up and narrow your eyes as you go through the clothes in the open closet. Somewhere in there is a pair of dark gray, straight-cut jeans that match the white blouse you carefully hung back on the hanger a few minutes ago.

And sure enough. After a few minutes of rummaging around in the clothes, you find the jeans and as you hold them up next to the blouse, you're relatively pleased with the choice. There should also be shoes floating around somewhere that should go with them. But at least this is a good start.

Satisfied, you clean up the rest of the room. Since Charles has not invited you to dinner, but also to a club, you will certainly be home late, so you decide to make up Charles' bed. Your bedding disappears into the hall closet after you take Charles' things out. As you bring them into the bedroom and spread them out on the bed, you find yourself briefly considering pressing your face into the pillow. For sure, Charles smells attached to it.

But before you can do that, your cell phone vibrates. It's a message from Charles.

Your heart skips a beat. Do friends give each other compliments like that? You glance from your phone to Charles' pillow, then to your outfit for tonight. You bite the inside of your cheek and start typing.

You plug your phone into the charging cord as you head toward the bathroom to shower and get ready for the evening, so you don't see the two messages Charles sends you.

The Ferrari feels different somehow. After Charles sat in your old Renault yesterday, the expensive Ferrari feels strange under him. Not wrong, but different. Like something is missing.

He feels the stares on him as he steers the car through the streets of Monaco. The gray Ferrari attracts attention, with its red and white stripes and the number 16 on the side. But not just because the 488 Pista Spider is a beautiful car.

But because people know who owns the car.

The fact that you don't know that Charles is the Charles Leclerc is refreshing for him, but the guilty conscience gnaws at him. He should tell you that he drives in Formula 1, because after all, you would be dragged into the limelight by him, should people find out that you are friends and, above all, that you live together. Before that happens, he should at least give you the opportunity to get out of it.

But Charles is too selfish for that.

Even though you've only known each other for a short time, Charles enjoys your company too much to mess it up. You're so normal, so kind, without asking for anything in return like most want him to do. You're just you. And by God, he's never felt better than in his short time with you.

He expertly steers the Ferrari into a parking garage entrance, where he has to type a pin into the designated keypad next to him before the barrier. The barrier opens so that he can drive a few meters further, where a metal gate awaits him, where he also has to enter a pin - a different one. Only then does he reach the parking lot that rightfully belongs to him.

It has been some time since he has been here. After driving the last race of the season in Abu Dhabi about three weeks ago and becoming vice world champion, he had stayed on site for a short time to soak up some sun and recover from the stress before flying back to Maranello with his team for a final briefing and to discuss the upcoming season. But even that only lasted a few days. He could have been back in Monaco by now.

But he didn't want to.

He knew exactly what was waiting for him here. A conversation he wanted to delay as long as possible. He didn't stay away from Monaco for so long for no reason, and he wondered if he hadn't returned too soon. But he can't, first, avoid this conversation, and second, stay away from his home. He loves it here too much for that. Just like other things he'd rather not think about right now.

In the elevator, he puts his key in the designated hole and then presses the button with the number of the floor where his apartment is located. Just a few weeks ago, he thought that if he entered this building again, his heart would be beating wildly in his chest or his palms would be sweaty, but he is not even nervous.

He knows what's waiting for him behind the elevator door. And he's ready to wrap things up.

Charles enters the apartment as he has thousands of times before. And just like hundreds of times before, he hears the sound of footsteps on the floor moving quickly in his direction. But never before has he felt this indifference to those footsteps.

"Charles?" A woman comes out of the room where the living room is located and rushes toward him with her arms outstretched. When she reaches him, she wraps her arms around his torso to hold him close, but Charles puts his hands on her shoulders and gently but firmly pushes her away. "Charles, I'm so sorry. What I did is inexcusable and I will-"

"'You won't do anything,'" he interrupts her, wishing he could jump in the shower to wash her touch off him. "I'm just here to get some things. And to ask you to stop calling." He walks past her down the hall and into the room where his clothes are.

"And I told you I would do everything I could to make this right between us," the woman says as she follows him. She places herself in the doorway with her arms crossed as he packs some of his clothes into a large gym bag. "I'm not ready to give up on us yet, Charles. I love you."

Charles can't stop the laughter that escapes him. After stuffing several pairs of socks into his side pocket, he turns to her and puts a hand on his hip. "You gave us up when you fucked that guy, Annika. And dare you to talk about love. You don't even know what that is."

As his phone vibrates in his pocket, he fishes it out. A message from Y/N. He doesn't even notice that a small smile creeps onto his face at that.

But she does. "Who's that? Do you have a new one already?"

Charles quickly types a reply and presses send before turning back to his clothes. "No," he says coldly. "And even if it were, it wouldn't be any of your business."

"Of course it's my business!" Annika almost screeches as she takes a few steps toward him. "I'm your girlfriend, after all!"

"You," Charles zips up the bag and stands in front of her, "are the absolute last person I want anything to do with." He pushes past her into the hallway, where he drops the bag on the floor to go into the bedroom, where some odds and ends are waiting for him to take as well.

Annika follows him like a dog follows its master. "And why do you let me stay here then?"

"Because I'm nice."

"You're not that nice. We both know that."

Charles looks at the picture frames sitting on the windowsill. Among them is a picture of him and his father when Charles was little and went karting. It's a fond memory that he certainly doesn't want to leave here with her. "I've changed."

In disbelief, Annika laughs. "Never. In the two years we were together, I asked you so many times for things that should have been natural for a relationship, but what came from you? Nothing." Now it's her turn to put her hands on her hips. "You're so focused on your job that you don't notice what's going on around you! If you had paid more attention to me, then-"

"Then what? Then you wouldn't have slept with that idiot? Then we would have been happy forever? Peace and happiness?" Charles takes some pictures out of the frames and carefully lays them on top of each other so they don't scratch. He would leave the frames here, after all, they were gifts from Annika. And he definitely doesn't want to keep them. "Grow up, Annika. You knew what you were getting into from the start."

"But not that I have to share you with the whole world." Slowly, she walks toward him and as she stands in front of him, she places her perfectly manicured hands against his chest. "You're all I've ever wanted, Charles. But you were never there. And even when you were there, your mind was always at work or somewhere else, but never with me."

She's not exactly wrong about that. The season had cost him quite a few nerves and he definitely hadn't been a good boyfriend, and maybe none of this would have happened if he had paid more attention to her. But that's definitely not a justification for what she did. Charles knows his worth. And that's exactly why he clasps Annika's wrists with his thumbs and forefingers to take her hands off him.

"For not being a good boyfriend, I am truly sorry." He drops her hands. "But that's no reason to cheat. You and I are done." Charles leaves the bedroom and grabs his bag in the hallway before heading for the elevator door.

"You're leaving? Just like that? Throwing away two years like they never happened?"

Again, his phone vibrates in his pocket. Another message from Y/N, making his heart skip a beat. He grins to himself and types a response that, under different circumstances, he might have thought twice about. But the quicker he replies, the quicker he's out of this place and back to you.

"I'm not throwing it away, you already did." Charles puts his phone back in his pocket and presses the button to make the elevator come. "I'm letting you stay here because I know how bad I've been to you and that this year hasn't been so easy for you either. But if I need this place one day, for whatever reason, you're out of here. And I don't care where you end up. Find someplace to live. Move back in with your parents. But this," he points to the space between you, "is over. Forever."

Annika runs a hand through her hair, then crosses her arms in front of her chest. "Then I hope for your sake that you treat them better than you treat me."

The elevator door opens, but Charles doesn't move a bit. Instead, he looks at his ex-girlfriend, who stands before him with raised eyebrows. "Who do you mean?"

"Do you think I'm that stupid? Or blind?" She points her finger at his pants pocket. "The person you just answered immediately."

"And what's so special about that?" he asks, confused.

Annika takes a step toward him. "You always make everyone wait for you. You make your fans wait for good results, your friends wait for calls. You even make your mother wait for you, because I'm pretty sure she doesn't know you're home yet." Annika stops in front of him. "But whoever that is - that person has all your attention. She doesn't have to wait for you. Let me give you a hint along the way, Charlie."

"Don't call me that. And I don't need your help."

"And even if you did." Annika stretches her arm out, past him, so the elevator door doesn't close. "The fact that she doesn't have to wait for you is good. Don't make her wait for you, too. It's not fair to her. And not to you, either."

As he sits back in the Ferrari - the sports bag and pictures safely stowed in the trunk - he doesn't know what to do with himself.

Charles made it clear to Annika that their relationship was over, and it had been overdue for at least a month. But what she said at the end stuck.

He actually keeps everyone waiting, which is why he keeps blaming himself. He could have told his mother he was back in Monaco a long time ago, but somehow he didn't. He could have told you that he's not just Charles, but he didn't, and so he keeps you waiting for the truth that you know nothing about.

Would you even want to be friends with him anymore if you knew who he was? Or would you want to be friends with him all the more?

Never, he thinks to himself. That's not who you are. And he can say that even though you've only known each other for a short time.

And even though you've only known each other for two days, you're all he can think about. He thinks about how you sat together on the grass and talked about his father. He thinks about how you cried at Cars. He thinks about how you flirted with him even though, in your opinion, it wasn't flirting (it was to him, of course; he wanted to know how to win you over for a reason). He thinks about how you told him about your ex-boyfriend and how he would love to beat him up. He thinks of you standing next to each other in the kitchen washing the dishes.

He thinks of you standing in front of him dressed only in a towel. With bare shoulders and bare legs and that - if he would get the opportunity again - he would not hesitate to pull you into the bedroom and fuck you with his tongue, his fingers or his cock in such a way that he would ruin all other men for you.

Charles closes his eyes briefly to get the image of you on his mind, and then drives off. He would love to drive to the lookout and talk to his father about the situation, but somehow it doesn't feel right without you there.

But he can't talk to you about it either, because it involves you, and although it would certainly be best, he doesn't have the heart to tell you the truth. Not because he doesn't trust you, but because he's afraid of losing you.

He slaps his hand against his forehead. "Get a grip, damn it," he says to himself. The two of you haven't even touched, and he's thinking about how he'd take you on every surface in the small apartment. That's just not normal.

And most of all, it's not fair. You confided in him about your ex-boyfriend because Charles is your friend. And your roommate. And that's what he needs to be to you.

It wouldn't be fair for him to get into a relationship with you because one, you don't know who exactly he is, and two, he can never be what you need him to be. You need someone who is there for you, who takes time for you. Someone you can laugh and cry with. Not someone who is away most weeks of the year and can't even manage to call his own mother.

You would always be waiting for him. And even though he doesn't want to agree with Annika, he has to. The whole thing is not fair to you.

And so he deletes the last two messages he sent you, which you apparently haven't read yet, as he parks his Ferrari in an underground garage and walks the last few meters to your apartment.

He decides that he is your friend. Only your friend. Because he has to be, and because he can't be anything else. Because you need a real friend, and not a relationship.

Charles unlocks the apartment door and drops the gym bag to the floor beside him.

"Charles?" Unlike Annika's voice, his heart starts to beat faster at yours and his palms start to sweat, so he quickly wipes them on his jeans. You come out of the bathroom dressed in dark gray jeans and a white blouse that accentuates your curves. As you stand in front of him, you turn once so he can check you out from all sides. In all his life, he's never seen anyone look so divine. "I'm sorry, I wasn't sure what to wear. I hope that's all right."

His smile is gentle and he hopes you don't notice how hard he has to swallow, and he would have loved to wrap you in his arms and never let you go. But his ex-girlfriend is still clinging to him, and before you touch each other properly for the first time, he wants her washed off.

It's not fair.

"It's okay," he says with a smile and goes to the fridge for a glass of orange juice. You stop by the apartment door next to the gym bag, but don't ask where the stuff is from. And for that, he's very grateful. "I'm just going to jump in the shower and then we can go, okay?"

He doesn't wait for your answer as he pulls new clothes out of his suitcase, walks into the bathroom, undresses, and stands under the hot stream of water. Even now, he keeps you waiting, which further solidifies his decision to keep your relationship purely platonic. While he's shampooing his hair, he makes a deal with himself that he'll do whatever it takes to make this friendship work. Even if that means suppressing his feelings.

As he leaves the bathroom freshly showered and ready to go, you sit on the couch. He's looking at you, thinking about what Annika said, what he'd like to do with you, and all the things he could lose. And all of that just isn't fair.

"I'm sorry you had to wait for me," he says softly, reaching for your car key that's on the dining room table. It feels better in his hand than the one from the Ferrari. So familiar. Like the key will fulfill everything he's ever wanted.

"It's okay," you reply, getting up from the couch. You take a few steps toward him and smile at him, and his heart melts. "I'm fine with waiting."

the messages Charles deleted -

next part

#charles leclerc #carlos sainz jr #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc blurb #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc prompt #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc one shot #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc x you #Charles Leclerc #f1 #f1 fanfic #Charles Leclerc series

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saturnsorbits · 2 months

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Always a Groomsman

Fandom: My Hero Academia, Warning: Angst (A Touch), Smut, Exhibitionism, Reader Smokes, Kaminari isn't a Hero Anymore, Brief Mention of Addiction etc. Word Counts: 5.4k.

Summary: A wedding, what a wonderful place to reunite with the one that fucked you and ran all those years ago.

The light is already dying by the time you finally manage to slip away from the reception and make a B-line to the back of the tent. Your feet are killing. The whiskey helps the pain, but even whiskey can't numb everything.

'Oi.' Bakugo catches your elbow, stopping you just short of freedom.

'Where are you going?'

'Need some air.'

Flicking up his eyebrows, he offers you a smirk that tells you he's not buying your bullshit. 'So it's got nothing to do with that then?' He hooks a thumb towards the dance floor and the drunken silhouette of Kaminari Denki He's curled himself around a bridesmaid, hand pinching the silk over her hip, lips hovering barely an inch above her neck as she threads her hand through his hair.

You chew your lip and lie. 'No.'

'C'mon... Just talk to him, you know you want to.' Bakugo's eyes widen suggestively.

'I think he's too pre-occupied to talk.' Something bubbles in your stomach as you watch Kaminari whisper in the woman's ear and you quietly shift your gaze so you don't see what happens next.

'You know he's only over there because he thinks you're mad at him, right?'

'I am mad at him.'

'It's been years.'

'He fucked me over, Kat...'

Bakugo's gaze hits the floor. It's not like he's forgotten what happened. 'I'm not taking his side but -.'

'No.' You raise your hands, palms flat in the air to stop him. You know what he's about to say. You've heard it all before. 'You've got guests to entertain and I am literally going to explode if I don't get some air in the next minute.'

Rolling his eyes, he plants a kiss on your cheek and uses his new proximity to whisper in your ear. 'He'd make a pretty groom, that's all I'm saying.'

'Oh, fuck off.' You manage to swat his shoulder only once before he's turned on his heel and returned to the mess of wedding guests that whoop and roar when he re-emerges into the fray.

The cold hits you as soon as you duck under the edge of the tent and step out onto the small deck. Instantly, you pull at your shoes and hiss as your feet are forced to straighten against the wooden floor. Before the throbbing in your soles has settled, you stagger off, limping towards the tall rail separating the deck from the field beyond.

It's a nice night, cold, but nice. In the sky, stars burn on a back-drop of navy, their blanket only broken by the soft, red blinking of the odd satellite or plane. The music from the tent floats out and lingers in the air, leaving you with enough space to actually think for a second.

You'd been overjoyed to watch Bakugo finally get hitched to Kirishima, but almost all of that excitement had died when you saw Kaminari. It had been almost ten years since the night he'd kissed you outside of UA, since you'd stumbled up the stairs to his dorm and let him be the first to touch you. He'd pretended as if it had never happened afterwards and you'd taken the hint.

A few months later, you'd moved south and he had stayed. He hadn't even shown up to your leaving party, despite both Sero and Kirishima telling you he'd be there.

But, all of that was in the past, or at least you'd thought it was until your eyes had grazed his as he stood beside the alter as Kirishima's best man and you'd felt a forgotten affection swell in your stomach. Sighing, you fiddle with your clutch bag and remove a half-full packet of cigarettes from within. You flip open the box, pluck one from inside and pop it in-between your lips before diving back into the clutch to search for a lighter. Rummaging for a second, you come up empty.

'Shit.'

'Need a light?'

The voice makes you shriek. You jump, stumble over your shoes and just about manage to catch yourself on the rail. Hand falling to your chest, you can feel the hammering of your heart through your skin.

'Am I that scary?' He snickers.

You squint, trying to make out his edges in the low light. Your eyebrows furrow, then lift as you focus on the man in front of you. He looks good, better than the last time you'd seen him: A scrawny shadow of himself pictured in a double page spread of a gossip magazine, something about heroism, drugs and a sex scandal printed in bright ink above it.

Flicking your eyes up to his, you're glad to see the spark has returned to his eyes. An old, but familiar shiver runs the length of your spine and suddenly, your stomach fills with motion. 'You... You look good.'

'Yeah?' He holds open his blazer, allowing you to get a full look as he slowly spins on the balls of his shoes and pinches at the skin of his stomach. 'Hero weekly says I'm chubby now.'

You're tempted to lie, to tell him that he's looked better, but you don't. 'No, you look good, healthy. It suits you.'

Something in Kaminari's chest stutters and he has to swallow the spit pooling in his mouth before he speaks again. 'Light?'

You pause. 'You don't mind?'

His face breaks into a smile, perfect and shining. 'Nah, don't even crave the things any more.' He misses out the bit about having enough nicotine patches on his chest and arms to stop a bull.

You concede. There's a comfort that comes back almost too easily, like the past finally catches up with you. It dampens the fire in your stomach, leaving you clutching at the anger that had grown inside of you since that night. You lean forward, letting him cup his hands around the end of your cigarette.

His hands shake when he tries to make a spark. It takes one, two, three times of his thumb coming down on the wheel before it finally catches a light and he can step back to a safer distance.

'It's still the same one, doesn't work as well now though.' He mumbles flicking the cap of the lighter. It's silver, with a chipped yellow lightning bolt painted on the front of it.

If you looked close enough, you're sure you'd be able to find the rough scratching of your entwined initials, engraved by his shaking hands at fifteen.

You breathe in, savour the burning of smoke as it infests your lungs and exhale. Turning, you rest against the rail and look back out over the field.

'So – you're -.'

'Sero said -.'

You both start up at the same time, the constriction of the silence around you forcing you both to attempt to fill it.

'You first -.'

'No, you – go on.' You encourage, arching an eyebrow.

Kaminari swallows. His heart thrums violently, threatening to deafen him, but he's just hoping that you can't see how bad his hands are shaking, how he can feel sweat beginning to bead his forehead. He's not an idiot. He knows how he left it, what you must think. As soon as Kirishima had asked him to be best man he’d felt his guts begin to twist and turn. The idea of seeing you again set his veins on fire. You cough and pull him back from the edge of his thoughts.

'I – uh...' He can't think. You're too close, too real and suddenly, his tongue seizes in his mouth.

Another beat of silence nestles its way into the conversation and you can't take it. You switch the conversation. 'Ei said you're going to work with Aizawa.'

He takes a deep breath and prepares himself to look at you, but it still doesn't stop the air being stolen from his lungs when he finally does. There's a flourish of nostalgia in his stomach and he swallows a grin. 'Yeah. He, uh, he sought me out. After all the – the, y'know, rehab and all that, he thought I'd be a good fit.'

'Yeah?' You raise your eyebrows. Kaminari's fall from grace had been far from undocumented. There had been barely a week that he hadn't appeared in some sort of magazine, his eyes dull and another questionable entourage in toe. Another one night stand, a model spotted having cocaine snorted off her tits; wherever there was chaos, Kaminari had followed.

'Yeah... We're, uhm, we're already working with a group of kids in UA. They got caught up in that villain attack down town. We do these workshops were we like pretend to be pro-hero's...'

Smiling, you raise your eyebrows. There's light in his voice, something you've missed and something you're keen to hold onto.

He snorts. 'No, I know, I know, but we pretend to be...' He shoots you a cheeky glance. '… Current... Pro-hero's doing interviews and talking about our experiences and stuff, y'know like it's miles away. Helps to sort it all out in your head, picture a future were it isn't all still hanging over you. There's this one kid, absolute firecracker... He stopped the whole fucking building collapsing before they could get everyone out, has a pretty nasty scar to thank for it too, but he does the most flawless impression of Bakugo it's almost scary.'

You bat at his arm instinctively and freeze as your hand wraps his bicep. For a second it's all too easy to forget you're not still teenagers clinging onto youth with both hands. 'That looks good on you too.'

'Huh?' He swallows before moving his hand to cover yours on his arm. His skin prickles when you don't pull away. It's hard to forget how it all ended. How he'd been too naïve to tell you how he felt, how he'd bit his tongue for months after he'd summoned the courage to finally kiss you and how he'd tried everything he could to run from the violent storm of emotions that had been released in his stomach that night.

It hadn't worked.

Avoiding you hadn't worked, neither had sleeping with other women or pretending it had never happened.

You lean into him, tightening your grip and the warmth of your skin reminds him that he's not the scared teenager he used to be.

'Helping kids, working with Aizawa...' You giggle, relaxing into his presence at last. 'It looks good on you. You light up when you talk about it... It's nice. Haven't seen you look like that since...' You chew your lip. 'Listen...' It's impossible to read him. His jaw is set, eyes facing forward as the cold begins to chap and redden his cheeks and you have to fight to push away the thought of how beautiful he still looks. 'I know you're only out here because Bakugo told you to be.' The accusation slips off your tongue too easily as the past rears it's head.

'I'm not – it's -.'

'You don't have to lie to me.' You offer him a broken smile, a truce of sorts.

'I really screwed up, didn't I?' He chuckles, letting smoke drift from his nose and mouth before turning to you.

'You did.'

There's a lapse in the conversation and he takes his chance. You're peering up at him, your eyes filled with the embers of something he hopes is affection and he dives in. 'Do you remember that night... Outside the school when... When, we -.' He feels stupid. The words lodge in his throat and refuse to move, forcing him to stop and haul in a breath. You'd think after all the talking therapy he'd be better at it by now.

He battles through, after all – he doesn't know when he'll get the chance to see you again.

If he doesn't do it now, he never will.

'When we slept together?' You sigh then tilt your head and finally give in, resting your head against his shoulder. Part of you wonders why he's brought it up, the other part isn't sure you care. Right now, you're just happy to bask in him. You've missed it: him. Even with the history between you. 'You don't have to apologise. I get it.'

'What do you mean?' Kaminari stammers.

'Well, It was a mistake, right?' It's a question disguised as a statement, but you don't give him time to answer before you're already trying to soften the blow yourself. 'We were young and people sleep together all the time, it's not a big deal. I just -.' You puff out your cheeks, finish your cigarette and drop it to the floor, letting Kaminari crush it with his dress shoe. 'I – I guess I just expected us to... It doesn't matter, you didn't want it and I respect that, just, it was just a hard pill to swallow, I think.

He takes another lungful of cold air, hoping the shock will calm him. It does, but only until he cranes his neck to look at you again. You're looking back up at him, your eyes wide and questioning, pupils blown out through darkness and alcohol. His gaze lingers on the soft pump of your lip and he's almost knocked over by the rush of memory that reminds him you used to taste like strawberries and smoke.

He wonders if you still do.

'It's not like that...'

You swallow. 'What was it like then?'

His voice is a whisper when he finally admits what he came out her to tell you. 'I was scared...' His thumb ghosts the back of your hand. 'I'm still scared.'

'Denki...'

'Yeah?' He's vaguely aware of the fact that he's unable to tear his eyes away from your face, but he's too caught up in the feel of you pressed to his side, where you belong, to care.

'Don't start saying things like that.'

'Why -.'

You lick at your back teeth, fighting annoyance. 'Not now. Especially not when there's a bridesmaid wondering where you've got to in there.' You hook a thumb back towards the tent.

'I'm not – we're not, we're not together or anything...' He's stumbling, making a mess as usual.

You roll your eyes. 'You don't have to lie.'

'I'm not lying.'

'I saw you all over her.'

'Dancing – we were -.'

Chewing at your lip, you sigh. 'It doesn't matter.'

'No.' He takes hold of your hand, squashes his own on top of yours and pins you as best as he can without forcing your fingers to entwine. 'It does.'

You swallow. 'Why now?'

'I – uh -.'

'Why not then?'

'I was scared.'

'You know...' You slip your hand from under his and fold your arms across your chest. 'It hurt when I realised that I was just another fuck for you, but it wasn't as bad as loosing a friend Denki – We were friends and you just fucking ghosted me. No explanation, no apology, you could have just fucking ignored it and I would have let things go back to normal, I would have just -.' You're crying, kind of. Tears well in your eyes, but you're refusing to let them fall. You've spent too many tears on him already and your make-up took almost an hour to do.

'I was a fucking idiot, I was scared and – and -.'

'I think I'm going to go...' You nod, swatting away his hand when he reaches for you. 'It was nice seeing you.' Turning, you're ready to make a short dash through the tent, ready to be as far away from the constricting air of the deck.

'No. Please. Please, don't go – not again, I just. Fuck.'

A hand wraps your wrist, pulling you back just enough that he can slip in front of you blocking your escape. 'Den - Kaminari.'

'Just let me, let me get this out. Okay.' He's pleading when he looks up at you, but he can't let you leave, not without at least trying. 'I was a fucking idiot. I was so scared that you'd hate me, that, that I'd be a bad boyfriend, or you'd move away and I wouldn't be enough, that I'd be too busy with work, or it'd be too much and I – I let that get the better of me. I was already falling apart, even back then and I didn't – I didn't want you to have to see it, to put up with it. You, fuck, you deserve so much and... That night...' He hauls in a breath. 'That night was one of the best nights of my life, not, not just the sex – just being with you and I – Well I did fuck it all up, didn't I... Look at the state of me - I couldn't, I couldn't have dragged you through all that.'

'Oi.' You fix him with a stare. 'Don't go blaming yourself, not for what you've been through - or how you've dealt with it. Never, okay... And for what it's worth, I would have gone to Hell and back if you'd asked.'

His jaw ticks, but when he turns to face you there's something almost thankful in the shine of his eyes. 'I'd never ask.'

You chuckle. 'I know. You wouldn't have had to. I've have done it anyway.'

He swallows.

You roll your lip between your teeth and bite down. 'So you liked me... Back then, I mean. When we – I wasn't just, just another girl that you...

'We both know I did.' He licks his lips. 'I was a fucking idiot, I -.' His eyes widen as he struggles to find a word to summarise the years that have elapsed between you and leaves him out on a limb.

'Do you still...'

He nods.

'And if, if it were to happen again, you'd want that?'

'More than anything.'

'And you wouldn't run away?'

'Only if I was chasing you.'

You smile, straighten and curl your body into his. 'Then...' You whisper. 'Kiss me.'

He does. Wrapping a hand around your neck, he lets his thumb rub at the softness behind your ear as your lips meet again for the first time in years.

Things go quickly from there...

It's overdue. A coming together that both of your bodies have longed for, for far too long. He kisses the same, with lips that are a touch too dry and a hunger no-one else has ever been able to match.

You have a mind to stop him, have a mind to stall his hands as they press to your chest and seek out the stiff peaks of your nipples, but you don't. Instead, you let yourself be overcome. Your hands find his belt. It's almost too easy to do, to unclasp the buckle and yank it clear of his suit pants. You cast it aside and are surprised when he doesn't seem to care where it lands.

He pushes you back, urging you further and further away from the wedding still raging inside and towards the scant privacy the deck can offer.

Although, it's more than obvious that neither of you care.

Each touch is electric. A build of emotion that had crystallised, now dissolving into your hands and dripping through your fingers. It's rough and needy, desperate, but more than that, it feels right.

'Here, quick.' You pull at the lapel of his suit jacket, yanking him impossibly closer.

He misreads the signs, twisting and turning as he attempts to wriggle from his jacket and slip it from his shoulders.

Tugging it back into place, you shake your head. 'No time, just...' You let your hand slide down his chest, feeling your way across the expanse of him before slipping your fingers into the waist of his suit pants. '… Come here.'

Kaminari moans as you make quick work of his pants, shoving them eagerly half way to his thigh. 'Don't need to tell me twice.' He chuckles, using what little air remains in his lungs to whine as your fingers graze over his hardening cock.

You tease for barely a second longer before taking hold of him and squeezing.

'Fuck.' His head rocks back on his shoulders, eyes rolling to the skies as he sinks into the feeling of having you again. 'I've missed you. Shit.'

You chuckle and lean in close, pressing your chest to his as you lick at the shell of his ear. 'Have you missed me or just my hand?'

Immediately, he pulls back. His hands wrap around your elbows as he holds you at arms length. He looks comical, with his pants clinging to the thin at the end of his thighs and his grey boxers almost dyed black, stained with pre-cum as his cock pulses in its confines, spilling more desperation onto the fabric. 'I really have missed you...'

Stooping to catch your eye, he raises his eyebrows and offers you a smile. 'You. Not the sex, not anything else. Yo -.'

You barely let him finish his sentence before you're breaking from his constriction and pressing back into him. 'I've missed you too...' Biting his lip, you ease the sting with a kiss. 'But, we really don't have a lot of time and I'm so fucking wet I -.'

He whines against your mouth. 'Can – Fuck, let me taste.'

'Maybe later.'

The idea of later makes his blood sing, but the sound of the party still raging inside quickly refocuses him on the task at hand. 'Think I can make you cum in five minutes?'

'Oh.' You squeak when his hand pinches at your ass. 'I fucking hope so.'

'Challenge accepted.' Grinning from ear to ear, Kaminari presses back until you bump against the wooden railing of the deck. His hands roam across your body, squeezing and nipping at everything he can reach. Reaching up, he takes hold of the strap before pausing. 'Can I?' Or will this rip?'

'It'll be fine... Just -' You push your chest out, helping as best you can as Kaminari pulls down the front of your dress to expose you to the air.

The cold air forces your nipples to pebble immediately, the lip of your dress forcing your breasts to sit high and pretty and in perfect reach of Kaminari's wondering hands.

He cups your chest, thumbs brushing over your nipples until you squirm. If he had time, he'd savour this. He'd crane his neck, bow to your beauty and take one of those hardened rose buds into his mouth. He'd taste your skin, savour the salt and lick effortlessly over you until your cries became the background noise to his dreams. Licking his teeth, he looses himself to the feeling of you filling his hand. The fat of your tit spills through his fingers as he squeezes, earning another breathy gasp from you before turning his attention to other areas.

'Denki...' You're breathing heavy already, your chest heaving as Kaminari takes his pleasures feeling every inch of you. His hands sink, exploring. He pinches at your ribs, skates over your ribs and grips your hips before landing a firm smack against your ass. 'Denki, please... Fuck, c'mon, I need -.'

'Yeah?' His pupils have blown when he looks at you. Rings of gold struggle to keep them in check as hunger threatens to swallow them whole.

You nod, helping him yank up your dress until it's bunched up around your hips. Shivering against the cold, your knees knock together as a wave of vulnerability suddenly washes over you. You're freezing. The arousal trapped in your underwear cooling by the second, even as your cunt burns to be touched.

'Fuck...' Kaminari's hand sinks into your underwear the second it can. His fingers brush across trimmed pubic hair before petting, gently, at your clit.

You moan, bucking into his hand as he slips further and brushes his fingertips across your entrance. Bringing his hand back up, he presents his hand to you in the air. Your arousal shines on his skin, the glittering light from tent making it shimmer as he widens his fingers, leaving sticky strings to hang between index and forefinger.

He admires the shine. 'You're so fucking wet.'

Nodding, you reach for his wrist to pull it to your mouth – tasting yourself and cleaning his skin, but before you can, his tongue darts out of his mouth. He collects your slick like a delicacy and moans as your sweetness hits the back of his throat.

'Denki, I can't wait anymore... Please -.'

Kaminari wastes no time. In a moment, he has himself freed from his boxers, his cock hard and twitching against your stomach and your leg hooked lazily over his arm.

You tug aside your underwear yourself, exposing your cunt to him fully. There's no time to waste. Something primal eats away at your insides, something you're sure will only subside once he's seated inside of you. Your fingers itch, one hand playing with the strays hairs at the base of his neck as you look down and watch as he guides himself into you.

The initial push makes him hiss. You're tight. Tighter than he remembers as your walls wrap around him and clench. Locking his jaw, he hauls in a breath through his teeth and wills himself away from embarrassment.

Feeling him twitch helplessly inside of you, you grasp him by the lapel and pull him close until your nose touches his. 'Don't you dare. Not...' He gives you another inch, making you gasp and roll your hips. 'Not yet, don't fucking -.'

'Don't worry, baby. 'm not, not gonna.' Holding onto his sanity with his fingernails, Kaminari pulls back his hips and grinds back into you. The rhythm he sets up is uneven at best, but still, each thrust causes his cock to rub directly across the sponge roof of your cunt making you whine and cling.

Lips finding his neck, you litter him with lust. Your teeth find purchase, biting down to stifle the moans bubbling in your chest as he continues to fuck you, bottoming out each time in an effort to give you everything he has.

'You're gonna leave a mark.' He speaks through gasps, his pace stuttering as he continues to try and please you. The muscle in his thighs shake, his hands struggling not to clamp down on your waist as he pushes through the pulsing of his balls that threatens an early end.

You chuckle, revelling in the goose-flesh your breath leaves in its wake. It's intimate, setting a fire in your stomach as you pull back enough to catch his eye once more. You smile. 'What? Don't want your cheeky bridesmaid side piece to see?'

His pace falters. 'I don't.'

'Denki, baby... I'm joking.'

The pet name hatches butterflies in his sternum. They bump against the bone, tickling his organs and making him feel like he could float six feet from the floor. Not for the first time, he curses his own previous cowardice for stealing away all the pet names the past could have gifted him.

Bringing your foreheads together, you pant, breathing in each others air for a moment.

It's always felt like a cop out to call him 'The one that got away'. The title had never fit, no matter how much you'd wanted it to – or wished at one point and yet, right here, now, you wonder how you'd ever even brought yourself to think of him like that. 'Denki... Denks.' He hums, transfixed by a look he'd only been able to imagine in your eyes. 'What – what do you need. Tell me.'

You chew your lip, muttering. 'I'm never going to cum like this.'

'Ah.' His eyes light up, a shock of understanding zipping through him.

It might have been years, but he remembers every second of that night you spent together. He remembers you quaking, remembers how you'd looked on your hands and knees, thighs shaking as your spine curved deliciously, your ass bouncing as you rocked yourself back on his cock desperately. How could he forget?

Slipping out of you, he pulls back only enough to lay his hands on your waist and spin you.

You twist, dizzy and grab hold of the railing to steady yourself. Instantly, you're up on your tip-toes, back curved as you wait, pretty and presented. Anticipation lances through your legs making holding yourself up difficult, but it's all worth it when you feel him stretch you open and slide home.

Not giving you a second to adjust, he sets a blinding pace, spurred on by the memory of what it had felt like to have you fall apart around him. The fingers of his right hand dig into the flesh of your hip as the other slides up your back and takes hold of your neck. He grips, leaning over you to whisper, hoarse, in your ear. 'Touch yourself... Touch yourself for me, show me how good you feel, baby.'

You obey. Slipping a hand between your legs, you spread your fingers to feel him rutting into you for a moment. The skin of his cock is silk soft and slippery with your arousal, grazing the sides of your fingers as you shift and finally, begin to rub at your clit.

'Fuck...' Kaminari's grip on your hip stutters, growing light as he feels you tighten up around him. 'Go – Good girl. Shit. I'm not – not gonna last, I -.'

You don't need him too. In a few moments, you feel the telltale rush. Your cunt aches, clit pulsing as your orgasm threatens to reduce you to your knees. With your eyes rolling back into your head, you struggle to keep circling your clit, but Kaminari's fingers replace yours without you asking.

His movement is clumsy, but he manages to fuck you through your high either way. 'Holy, holy fuck... You feel, feels so – fucking Hell.' Stuttering, he struggles through, pouring his focus into you as you milk him relentlessly, bringing him closer and closer to his own end. With a tight chest, you reel back, glancing over your shoulder.

Kaminari's face is flushed, his cheek bones brushed with a pink that makes him look boyish and young. The edge of his mouth is twisted, a cause of his teeth gnawing at the inside of his cheek and his jaw is clenched, bringing out the cut line of his jaw.

He's close. You can tell. The thought thrills you, your cunt tightening on impulse as you await your prize.

'Where, fuck, fuck... I can't cum on your dress, you're – you're gonna have to move, or, or -.'

Reaching back, you grab at the edge of his suit jacket and pull at him, forcing his hips against your ass. 'Inside.'

He doesn't get a chance to think, his body makes the decision for him. His balls tighten, pulsing as he cums, emptying himself inside of you. Curling over, he presses a kiss to your shoulder, teeth scraping against the exposed skin as he pours himself into you, pumping you full.

With your stomach full and his lips grazing the base of your neck, you relax into a bone-deep kind of satiation you'd not felt since that night. It's surreal. Absurd as you come crashing back to reality as realise that the party has begun to quieten inside of the tent.

He's still dripping out of you when you hear the high pitched whistle cut through the air.

Kamiari turns. Tearing his suit jacket from his shoulders, he drapes it over your hips, covering his own mess.

'You two made up then?' Sero's smile is blinding. His hands are dug into his pockets, thumbs poking out over the material as he shrugs himself into his shoulders. He's plastered, his hair mattered and a mess as it falls from its bun, but even the alcohol making him stagger doesn't put a stop to his mischief.

Kaminari panics. His voice is still breathless, shaking slightly from the force of the orgasm that had almost had him seeing static. He should have made you cum quicker, shouldn't have slowed down the way he did. Fuck, he should have asked you to come back to his hotel. You deserve better than a quick, forgive me fuck outside of a tent in almost freezing temperature. He curses himself and cringes. 'How long have you been stood there?'

'Long enough to be pitching a tent, you guys don't fuck around huh...' He chuckles to himself. 'Well, I guess you do but -.'

Struggling with your dress, you can't help the smile that breaks your lips when Kaminari shields you and helps get your tits situated and hidden once more. Stepping from behind him, you slide a hand down his arm and twist your fingers in his. Hoping this time he won't run away. 'What do you want Hanta? We're just about to get out of here.'

Even if you had been trying to miss the smile that brightens Kaminari's face, you wouldn't have been able to. He re-adjusts his jacket, now slung over your shoulders and squeezes your hand tight.

Sero chuffs. Still too drunk to know better. 'When I first came out here I just wanted to smoke, but now I'm thinking of asking to watch.'

Reaching down, you pluck one of your heels from the floor before turning and throwing it headlong at Sero's head.

He ducks, laughing as the shoe goes wide. 'That a maybe then?'

'Hanta...' Kaminari whines, but Sero is already backing away holding his hands up in a mock surrender.

'Woah, woah...' A cheeky smile tugs at his lip, bringing his left dimple out in a way that only happens when there's real mischief up his sleeve. 'I guess now would be a bad time to tell you that the lights out here cause a pretty solid shadow to be cast on the side of that tent then, huh?'

The colour drains from both of your faces. 'No...'

Sero's eyes shine as he reaches into his pocket and removes his phone. 'I've got a video of it if you don't believe me...'

-> Masterlist

#kaminari smut #kaminari x reader smut #kaminari x reader #mha smut #saturnsorbits #saturnscribbles

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torasplanet · 6 months

Text

❝𝙎𝙏𝙐𝘿𝙔 𝙎𝙀𝙎𝙃.ᐟ❞

A. ARLERT + YEAGER!F. READER

𝙨𝙪𝙢𝙢𝙖𝙧𝙮 ; eren made your grade in history drop 'cause he's a fat jerk! so what better way to get back at your dear brother than to fuck his best friend behind his back?

𝙬𝙖𝙧𝙣𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨 ; smut, fluff, aftercare, riding, p in v, nerd!armin, kinda slut!reader, eren being eren, like two flashbacks, armin being a sorta good best friend, praise, petnames (baby), kinda switch!armin, childhood crush to lovers, reader having a HUGEE crush on 'minnie >o<, seduction, loverboy! armin, eren being jean's #1 h8r, round two hinted at end, college au, lingere, armin wears glasses cuz i said so >:( !!, kinda sappy, unedited might do it l8r idk, science shit cuz im a nerd, skin color not mentioned

Eren was the worst big brother ever.

You wouldn’t have chosen to live with him if housing wasn’t so expensive and you two didn’t go to the same college because he’s annoying as shit. He always holds it against you that you’re living with him whenever you tell him to leave you alone. He was probably the worst person ever to be honest and what he had done yesterday was not helping his case one bit.

See, eren was a coffee person and not one of those regular coffee people. The ones that go insane without their dark roast.

Not so surprising when he’s a college student but he’d never been once before being enrolled so you still weren’t used to him drinking it so when he went into your room saying he forgot something in there with a mug in his hand, you didn’t think much of it and stayed in your spot on the couch watching some random Netflix show you liked, you’d watched it a thousand times but it still entertained you but not enough that you didn’t hear eren curse from your room.

When you rushed up to go inside and ask what in the fuck he did, you couldn't even speak when you saw dark brown liquid spilled all over your five-page essay that was on your desk and there was no saving these, they were completely soaked and the words were mixing because of the wetness of the paper. You cursed your professor for making you write it on paper because this could easily happen. And with Eren being as clumsy as he is, of course, he was the one to make it happen.

He didn’t even care that much either! He just said ‘Whoops, sorry.’ and left, he didn’t offer to redo it for you or anything! And because of him, your grade in history has dropped by a lot. Like a B to an F-. You didn’t even know an F- was possible!

Eren was going to pay for this one way or another, but the issue with upsetting him was that Eren didn’t care about most things in the world. You could cut his hair in his sleep and he’d just get a new haircut, you could key his car and he’d be mad but he’d probably do worse to you. You could tell Mikasa about all the embarrassing dreams he’s had about her but he’d just deny it and then punch you later.

But the one thing that would send Eren off the rails was getting with one of his friends. Eren didn’t care if you were friends with his friends but if you even thought about liking one of them, he’d shut that shit down immediately. The idea of you getting with any of his friends disgusted him and he never wanted it to happen which is why you were going to do that; not only were you going to do that but you were going to do it behind his back which would just piss him off more once he eventually found out.

Sure it was extreme but it was the only thing that would actually fuck with him and that wasn’t your fault plus he was friends with a bunch of hot people…including, Armin.

Armin Arlert. Eren’s best friend since they were little kids, you often saw him a lot in your childhood and still saw him a lot in the present and you liked that. Armin was a cutie ever since you guys were young, even with his long hair he was a cutie but now that he cut it short, he was hot. So with your choice of revenge and Armin being hot, you practically had everything laid out.

You didn’t know how Eren would find out or if you would tell him but you got the seduction and the fucking part down! That’s all you needed honestly.

Most of this was so you could get back at Eren but at the same time, some of it was because you had the tiniest crush on Armin ever since you both were little kids. Even though you’ve fucked a bunch of guys, had them sleep over, and dated a lot, your micro feelings for Armin were always resting in the back of your head coming to the surface when you were alone in your room with your hand between your thighs in your panties and a pillow pressed to your face to block your moans.

You’ve been doing that for quite a while as you’ve wanted Armin for years.

Since his junior year and your sophomore when you two landed in the same mixed gym class, he had his blonde bob and wore glasses during that time but you still wanted him. That one class when some loser let his hand slip and hit you in the face with a dodgeball; Armin was helping you to your feet with his hand accidentally cupping your ass which he, of course, apologized for but you didn’t mind. Not at all.

You wanted to tell him that so badly but of course there was Eren ruining everything after he got done yelling at that loser for hitting you. For the first time ever, eren decided to be a good big brother and not let Zeke fill that role instead and take you to the nurse when all you wanted was for Armin to take you there. You thought you’d get him to take you another way if he did but of course, Eren had to be a cock-block even when you both got back to class.

“Ah is she okay!?” Armin asked loudly as he rushed over to you and Eren as you both walked through the gymnasium doors with you holding a paper towel to your nose that was just running with blood in hopes that it wouldn’t continue its rapid flow. Eren took his arm from around your shoulders as he hummed “Yeah, she’s okay. It’s not broken or anything.” Armin let out a relieved sigh at your brother's words as he pushed his rectangle-framed glasses up while you shamelessly stared at him in his gym uniform that seemed a little too tight for him. You could see his scrawny body with little to no muscle (he’s working on it okay!) through his shirt.

Armin made eye contact with you “That’s good, thought we’d have to call Zeke to get you.” He said sweetly which made a smile appear on your face but it quickly fell at the sound of your brother’s voice “Yeah, thought I’d have to get Ymir and beat the hell out of that guy.” Ugh, he was annoying. Eren knew he couldn’t kick anyone's ass even if he had Superman’s powers and yet he was still saying he would.

Of course, Armin looked at him concerningly but said nothing and shook his head before turning to you once more “I’m just glad you’re okay.” He told you comfortingly as he embraced you into a hug with his hands resting on your lower back, you wished that they went even lower like they did before but what he whispered next into your ear really made you want that “Don’t tell Eren about earlier, ‘kay? He’d be so mad.”

He said it like he meant to put his hands on your ass which contradicted his previous apology and it riled you up and made your childhood crush really blossom and now…you had finally gotten your chance to act out all those fantasies and thoughts you had due to his words and piss Eren off at the same time. It’s like a dream come true!

So when you were getting ready to go to Armin's dorm on college campus for your study session that was hopefully going to turn into more, you made sure to put on the cutest black lace thong with a matching bra that was practically see-through, you could see the darkness of your nipples showing through the fabric before you put on your skimpy top and tight-fitting shorts.

Falsies fluttered constantly as you looked through them peering up at Armin’s dorm door waiting for him to come and open the door for you and his study session. You perked up at the sound of the door unlocking before it opened revealing the blonde already staring at you but his gaze turned confused very quickly and you knew why.

You looked stupid, didn’t you? Here for a study session and yet there was nothing in your hands, no books, no pencil, nothing. Everything you needed was in the pockets of your shorts, your phone, and of course a condom. “Hi Armin, can I come in?” You questioned looking him up and down, he was wearing the white tee and grey sweatpants combo that almost made you drop to your knees while foaming at the mouth clawing at the waistband of his pants in the middle of this hallway.

His blue eyes drifted down to your boobs that were practically out of your shirt but quickly returned to your face that had gained a promiscuous smirk at the drifting of his gaze “Uh y-yeah, sure.” Armin stammered shaking his head seemingly to snap himself out of a trance that your body put him in. He moved out of the way and let you walk inside the dorm room that he shared with Bertholdt but clearly, the male wasn’t here which would make this all the easier for you “So what do you need help with exactly, you didn’t bring anything?” Armin asked his voice less nervous than it was before as he closed the door and leaned against it while his eyes followed your body as you sat on the edge of his neatly-done bed kicking your shoes off.

You blinked your falsies at him as you leaned back on your palms “A lot, I just thought I’d watch you y’know…do some of the work.” You replied making sure to purse your glossy lips out a bit with your words as you gazed at the blonde that was inching closer to you “I think it’s easier if I watch someone like you do it.” It wasn’t a lie, you weren’t very good at science and Armin was but you were playing it up a little bit. Like you needed him…well you did just not in the way you were telling him.

Armin nervously crept over to his desk that had his PC and everything on it which was sometimes used to play video games loudly with Eren, Connie, and Jean but its main use was for school work “What do you mean?” He asked as you stood up grabbed a chair from Bertholdt’s side of the room and sat down right next to Armin who was glancing down at your cleavage and your thighs, and who knows what he was looking at when your back was turned. You never took Armin for a perv but you weren’t hating the idea of that.

“I mean smart people, eren’s useless so he can’t help me and Mikasa never has time. She’s always with Eren in his room.” You blabber watching as Armin’s blue eyes were focused on his computer screen which was now showing the science homework you two had and you saw all his little glimpses toward you and your chest but you didn’t say anything and sat there all pretty like you had no clue what he was doing. When for the first time ever you knew.

Whenever Armin talked about things he liked such as the ocean, ‘nerd stuff’, and whatnot, you were the only one who really listened. Like actually listened to the point when he referenced something from previous conversations, you were the only one who remembered every single thing. It was a miracle that no one knew about your crush, well no one cared to say anything because if pretty much any of the guys knew, they’d definitely say something and laugh at you for doing something so stupid that would make Eren murder someone.

Armin’s cheeks turned pink at the mention of Eren and Mikasa's private relations “What about the times he’s not?” You merely shook your head at his question as you watched him solve the science problems easily “It’s still easier to watch you. You’re smarter than Eren.” You said wrapping your arms around Armin’s and leaning against him snuggling your head into his shoulder and you felt Armin tense up at this action but he didn’t say anything about it.

“Thanks, (n/n),” Armin said with a sheepish smile as he glanced down at you before back at the computer screen. You placed your other hand on his thigh not wanting to waste any time here because Bertholdt could be back any minute, you didn’t even know where he was but you just didn’t want him to come back anytime soon.

A whimper let out from Armin’s lips as you began to rub his thigh gently moving your hand up closer to his crotch but only subtly though he could tell. Armin could tell anytime you touched him compared to someone else's no matter where you put your hands. Your hands were gentle when they touched him almost like you were scared to touch him. You weren’t.

You wanted to be as close to him as possible and savored every touch you got with him, you were definitely going to savor this night even if it was just a one-time thing “You’ve always been smart Armin…I thought it was cute.” You muttered softly as you looked up at the male who was already looking down at you nervously, his expression was so cute! His flushed face, his nervous gaze, and how he was nearly sweating just by your hand on his thigh.

“I still do y’know.” Your hand trailed up to the waistband of his sweatpants but you didn’t do anything but sink your fingertips past them just pulling them away from his skin and letting it slap back against his soft pale flesh. His skinny hand came down and placed itself on top of yours stopping you as you felt warmness overtake your skin “We–...We shouldn’t do this (n/n).” The blonde male said as he looked down at you like he was scared but he was obviously enjoying it with the movement you felt coming from his sweatpants.

The clacking of his keyboard had stopped and it was now silent in the room “Do you not want to?” You asked slowly drawing your hand away but his hand which was just resting on top of yours now had a tight hold on yours and was holding it in place which startled you, it was a drastic change from how gentle he always was with just his hand on yours.

Armin looked away as if he was ashamed of his actions “I just think Eren would be mad.” You knew that was coming soon, Armin was a lot of things, and stupid was definitely not one of them, not even a little bit and you knew he’d catch onto what you were trying to do and tell you something about Eren and blah blah blah but you obviously didn’t care much for that, only what he really wanted to do.

With his hold on your hand, it’s obvious he didn’t want you to go anywhere but you still had to make sure “But do you want to?” You questioned again ignoring his previous statement about your brother and how he might disapprove of it. Eren was a dick and if he wanted to play that card, you could too. You could be a dick by riding his best friend’s.

Armin stared down at you for a while thinking about what he should say and what it would mean if he said something “Yes but–” With that, your fingers went back to his waistband but this time you were gently pulling them down but not completely yet, just teasingly “...what if eren finds out? He’ll be so mad at me.” Armin continued saying those words he said in high school but a bit differently and the context behind it was very different and not just a small accident.

You glanced down at the band of his Nike Pros before looking back up at him through your lashes “I don’t care. Why do you? You want it right?” Armin was quick to nod at your question making a smile stretch across your glossy lips as you ran the tip of your finger over the Nike Logo on his boxers “Yeah…I guess he doesn’t have to find out, right?” Armin said leaning back in his chair his eyes locked on your fingers just wanting them to inch closer to his crotch nearly bitting into the softness of his pink bottom lip that was almost the same color as the apples of his cheeks that showed his enjoyment and flustered feeling.

You shook your head not breaking eye contact with him “I won’t say anything.” You said seductively allowing your hands to slip past the waistband of his boxers and into the small bush of his blonde pubes before lowering it further to his cock.

Armin’s back arched slightly as he felt your hands wrap around him “I w-won’t say anything either.” He sputtered out as you moved your hand up and down while remaining eye contact with him, god you were such a bitch. Keeping eye contact with him while slowly jerking him off knowing it’d make him more embarrassed and completely bricked.

You leaned up releasing your hold on his arm and pressing a kiss to his lips that were letting out small whimpers and grunts. It grew sloppy very fast with Armin being eager. His hips were bucking up into your hand and his hands were just by his side not knowing where to go or what to touch, maybe your wrist? Your waist? Your shoulder? Or should he just keep them where they were? His mind was full of just you and only you that he couldn’t even think straight and you hadn’t even really begun to do anything yet.

You moaned into his mouth as he did the same before gently pulling away with a thin string of saliva connecting you two, your lip gloss was now on his lips and even around it, you could only imagine what it looked like on your lips now. Armin watched as your head tilted down to the movement you were causing in the confinements of his pants before you looked right back at him tilting your head curiously.

“Can I?” Armin wasn’t sure exactly what you were asking here but he had an idea so he nodded ferociously but when your hand left his pants, he got confused.

When he saw you beginning to take off your panties and shorts in one go, that’s when he caught on and began to do the same. He lifted his hips to slide off his grey sweatpants and then his all-black Nike Pros allowing both of the clothing articles to pool at his ankles as he sat there awkwardly waiting for you.

You grinned up at Armin before transferring yourself to his lap using it as a chair but you were just hovering over him now with your knees on each side of him supporting your body as you lined him up with your dripping cunt.

Armin’s hands instinctively went to your waist as you rested on his shoulders. The male stared up at you as you carefully perfected the lineup to make sure he didn’t miss the hole, he’d wanted you for the longest and he finally was going to get you. I mean, this wasn’t how he was planning on it going down, he was going to ask you out and then you guys would get to this part but this was okay too. It was great actually because he didn’t know if he could wait until you two started to date to get some of you. He definitely could not but good thing you’re a slut right?

A loud moan left your mouth as you slowly lowered yourself onto Armin’s cock making him throw his head back while he leaned back in his chair.

His back arched as you fully sunk, his legs spread allowing you to bottom out as you let out a whimper at Armin’s nails digging into the bare flesh of your hips harshly surely leaving indents there “Are you okay?” Armin asked as he managed to open his eyes and look at you reaching up one of his hands to cup your cheek carefully.

That’s one of the things you loved most about him. He was always thinking about other people. You were sure Armin was losing his mind right now by the way he was scarcely thrusting up into you and the grunts in between his words and yet he was still making sure you were okay when you were way more than okay. Nearly losing yourself in how full you felt but you were still feeling amazing.

You nodded your head as you smiled at him “Of course. Are you?” Armin nodded silently at your question taking in the warmth of being inside you and how tight you were, squeezing him every other second. You began to play with his hair slicking it back and running your fingers through it making a mess of the beautiful blonde locks. You wish you’d been able to do this when he had his long hair but this was just as enjoyable.

Armin leaned in for a kiss again which you happily obliged to. The kiss started sweet and soft as your hands went to his neck holding onto him for support as you began to grind on him rubbing your thighs against his which made the brutal feeling of his nails piercing into your skin grow. You and Armin's tongues fought for dominance with it quickly ending with Armin taking control, you’d like to say you let him but you didn’t. He won the battle and got a little rougher with his win.

He kissed you harsher as he pulled you closer to his body. Armin lifted you taking you by surprise before slamming you back down on him making you shout into the kiss and biting down onto Armin’s lip “Sorry…” You muttered as you broke the kiss watching as Armin touched his bottom lip which was bleeding a bit before looking down at the tip of his finger “It’s fine. Just keep going, baby.” You couldn’t even think of a response and just continued your grinding but this time you were bouncing a bit closing your eyes as you moaned.

Armin’s hand snuck up your shirt and under your bra squeezing your boob roughly as he went and buried his face in your neck kissing and sucking on you, covering the bare skin with purple marks some darker than others. His nails released their hold on your skin and his hand trailed down to your butt harshly groping it as he bit down on your neck smearing the blood of his lip all over your neck.

“Fuck.” You cursed getting quicker with your pace as you fucked yourself on his cock while whimpering like a slut. It’s a little crazy how Armin was just the one that was whimpering a second ago but now you were and he was the cause.

You never pictured Armin as a rough lover. In your fantasies, he was always so gentle, so calm, his fingers softly trailing over your skin as he whispered comforting words into your ears. Nothing like how he was in reality, biting you, covering you in hickies, creating indents in your skin from how rough he was grabbing you.

You weren’t necessarily complaining, it just took you by surprise and you didn’t know how to react other than with your moans of delight “So pretty. You put this on for me?” Armin asked as he backed away from your neck leaning right back in his chair as he lifted your shirt revealing the lacy bra, you didn’t even say anything and just nodded rapidly while continuing to moan “Was for me to take off or look at ‘cus...I don’t know which one I wanna do.” The blonde cooed looking up at you as you finally opened your eyes to look at him. You’ve never really seen Armin look at you like that, you’ve never seen him look at anyone like that. His eyes lidded damn nere closed, lust in his eyes, a smirk on his face and it seemed as if the blue of his eyes were more noticeable than usual. They were practically glowing as they traveled up and down your half-naked body.

“I don’t know…” You blabbered. You couldn’t even remember what you put the bra on for if it was just for him to look at or if it was for him to take it off too. You just wanted to look pretty for him and didn’t think that far ahead into what he would do “C’mon baby…you gotta know.” Armin whispered slapping a hand on your ass and making you jolt up earning a small whimper from him.

If you didn’t know before, you definitely don’t know now with how he was talking to you “W-Which ever you want.” You sputtered out as you slowed down your movements trying to compose yourself your eyes shutting close again.

Armin hummed in delight at your words “Really? I think I’m gonna keep it on you. Makes ‘em look so pretty.” He spoke lowly running one of his fingers over the pattern of the lace, his eyes locked on your boobs less ashamed now. You nodded and hummed as you sat still on him getting more sensitive by the moment just from him being inside of you.

The male’s blue eyes drifted down to where you two were connected and looked back up at you “Baby, you’re gorgeous and I love you but I’m gonna need you to move a little faster f’me.” Armin cooed smiling up at you. It’s not like you were going fast exactly before you stopped but something was better than nothing even if he wanted much more.

You smiled brightly and opened your eyes peering down at him “I love you too Armin.” The blonde let out a laugh and his smile widened. It was no surprise that you only paid attention to that part of his sentence, it looked like there was nothing in that head of yours anymore “You need me to take control? You can just lay there and look pretty, I don’t mind.” He said sweetly tilting his head slightly making his blonde hair sway and it made him look even more pretty.

No matter how much he cut his hair, his golden locks were always so silky especially when they moved in the slightest tilt of his head or the small blow of the wind “No, I-I got it.” You said placing your hands on his chest before beginning to move once more but this time you weren’t grinding with the addition of small bouncing, you were going up and down making slapping sounds echo off the off-white walls with wet sounds following it.

Groans escaped Armin’s throat with some slips of whimpers and whines as he threw his head back, hands gripping your ass as if his life depended on it while your tits bounced in the lacy fabric in his face. Armin’s blue eyes stayed focused on you and didn’t close once, he wanted to keep looking at you and how pretty you looked with your mouth wide open letting out pornographic sounds.

Armin had never admitted it to anyone in the world but he always thought you were the most beautiful girl he had ever seen. He believed it when he was young and still believed it.

Even though he hadn’t told anyone about it, a few people caught on when he was younger maybe in his elementary or middle school years? He didn’t quite remember but what he did remember was when Eren came to him during their math class and told him about how obvious his feelings for you were. Armin was so embarrassed when that happened and a little devastated by what Eren said but he did it anyway because that was his best friend and he’d do anything for him.

But looking back at that, he was sure he only agreed to that because Eren was his only friend and he was very much a pushover.

“Armin, I know you like my sister.” Eren had told him when sitting down on the empty desk beside the blonde’s with a straight face. Armin’s face went pale and his eyes widened in shock at that moment not knowing what to say as he was just doing long division a second ago.

He dropped his #2 pencil on the worksheet and pushed his glasses up “Don’t lie. I always see you looking at her.” Eren said narrowing his eyes at his friend practically sensing that guilty excuses of denial were soon going to start pouring out of his friend’s mouth “Sorry eren…She’s just…very pretty.” The long-haired boy muttered as he began fumbling with his fingers while looking at his lap refusing to meet his friend’s eyes.

Eren sighed as he dropped his head understanding how he was probably making his friend very nervous “I know. I can’t keep those stupid soccer boys away from her.” He grumbled remembering all the times he’s literally had to jump in front of you with his arms in the air yelling for them to back away from his little sister. He didn’t think you were old enough to be dating even though he’s had his fair share of five-day relationships. Eren would use that excuse for you until you were in the eighth grade and would then lay out a list of guys you shouldn’t date because ‘they’re the worst guys ever’ which consisted of soccer guys, basketball guys, and Jean. Jean was the only specific name on there.

Armin glanced up at his friend still nervous as he shuffled in his seat “Look, I don’t care if you like her or anything but don’t date her! I’d love to have you as a brother but she’s super annoying, you deserve better than her.” Eren said with a small pout on his lips making Armin laugh but the blue-eyed boy nodded while agreeing with the conditions “Okay eren. I won’t date her.”

It was stupid how he told Eren that but continued to like you after all this time. Armin was sure that the ‘deserved better than her’ reason had worn off now and was replaced by something like ‘It’s just so gross’ and Armin understood where Eren was coming from now. He and Eren had kissed two times at two separate parties both times with them being basically blackout drunk and of course, you didn’t know, no one knew and that’s the way both of them wanted it to stay, and Eren seeing him start dating his sister after all of that would be very weird for Eren and Armin. Armin still wanted to date you regardless though but was still considering how Eren would feel about it.

But who said he couldn’t fuck you? Eren didn’t have to know about that and if he did find out, it’d just be something to ease him into accepting Armin dating you.

Plus, it’s not like Armin cared very much about what Eren felt now that he was six inches deep inside of the warmth of your soaking cunt.

“Ughn! Shit, you feel so good.” Armin whined loudly as he squeezed his eyes closed feeling a tightness in his stomach but he quickly snapped them back open reminding himself of the beauty in front of him who was quite literally doing all the work to make him and herself feel good. Shit, by the way, you were fucking yourself out, he wouldn’t have cared if you wanted to peg the shit outta him.

The pleasure both of you felt was soon interrupted by a loud ringing of someone’s phone. You opened your eyes and turned your head around slowing the bouncing and resorting to grinding which made Armin hate phones “Who is it?” He asked though it came out as a whine with his heavy breathing. You saw his phone glowing and ringing on the desk which his PC sat on and you squinted trying to see the contact name through the growing tears of pleasure and when you saw it your eyes widened and you let out a whine of frustration.

It was Eren. Stupid Eren being a cockblock once again.

Yeah, you did this whole thing to get back at Eren and take advantage of your anger against your brother to finally do what you’ve wanted to for a while but if he called, you were going to stop. Having your brother listen to you fucking his best friend was disgusting. His finding out about it was a whole other thing and now in the state of mind you were from this dick that made you dumb, you didn’t really care too much about if he’d find out at all.

Fuck, this wasn’t even about getting back at Eren anymore. This was about feeling your desire and your need for the blonde.

“S’ eren…” You muttered turning back to Armin with a saddened look on your face and his eyes widened too seemingly snapping out of whatever trance you had put him in. He took his hand off the flesh of your ass and went to reach for his phone with his hand trembling from the pleasure he was still receiving from your small movements but you placed one of your hands on the desk in front of the phone before he could grab it.

You shook your head as you sped up the pace lifting yourself up and down once more “Don’t get it.” You pleaded looking down at Armin hoping to persuade him to just ignore the call and he didn’t say anything and just stared back at you. He broke eye contact and looked behind you seeing the phone and sighed. He knew Eren was just going to keep calling until he eventually got the idea that he was not going to answer the phone and he’d definitely get scolded for not picking up.

Fuck it. It’s whatever.

“Fine.” The Arlert male said looking back up at you and you smiled slightly before picking up the pace making Armin’s calm manner quickly disappear and back into his little whines and deep groans “Fuck, you killing me.” Armin said with a groan his hand gripping the edge of the desk and his other digging his short nails into your ass once again remaking the marks that had faded.

You leaned down and began placing sloppy kisses onto the fair-colored skin of his neck and he gave you full access with his head being thrown back. Your body pressed further against his with your boobs pressing against his hard chest making you moan onto his neck from the feeling of your sensitive nipples pressing against him.

You could feel yourself inching closer and closer to a release with every second and every bounce. You were falling more in love with Armin as his pretty groans and whimpers filled the silence along with yours, he was so sweet, so gentle yet still so rough but it was the perfect balance.

That balance was pleasurable enough but the sound of your moans mixing with his was like the most perfect lemonade to ever exist. Sweet and Sour, the sour was his occasional deep groans after the sweetness of his whimpers had run out.

Your back arched as you let out a loud whine letting go and cumming all over his cock biting down on his neck as your toes curled.

However, Armin hadn’t cum and he was not done. Not one bit. His other hand came back to your ass and he continued to bounce you up and down even after you had stopped to catch your breath “Sorry…just need this s’bad!” Armin apologized with his voice wavering. You weren’t really sure what he was apologizing for exactly, maybe the increase in roughness? Maybe the sudden force? It didn’t matter because you didn’t care. He was just helping you ride out your orgasm. Well, the rest of it.

Soon you felt his warm seed sputtering inside of you and filling you all up, it seemed endless until it stopped “Did I hurt you? Are you okay?” Armin asked through his deep breaths, his chest rising and falling under your sweaty palm as you retracted your face from the crook of his neck to look at him breathing just as heavy as he was.

You shook your head lightly “No, m’ okay…” You whispered as you tried to catch your breath and Armin nodded at your answer.

His hands went to your hips much gentler than they were before almost as if you were fine china and it was the first time he was using you and in a way, it was. He lifted you from his limp cock with ease and allowed you to stand to your feet but your legs and feet had fallen asleep by now, it’d be pretty hard to walk home now “What are you doing?” Armin asked as he saw you bending over to grab the clothes you had discarded while he pulled up his Nike Pros but kicked the sweatpants off.

You looked at him not really knowing what to say and just shrugged your shoulders “Can’t leave yet, I still gotta clean you up.” Armin said standing to his feet and swooping you into his arms not asking you or giving you any heads-up so you sat there being carried confused as to what he was doing.

“I just do that myself when I get home.” You said as the blonde carried you to the bathroom kicking open the cracked door before waddling over to the tub “Why? It’s the least I can do, you were practically doing all the work.” Armin said laughing awkwardly as he set you inside the porcelain tub being careful before reaching over and letting you take the remainder of your clothing off before turning on the faucet letting the warm water flow into the tub and onto your feet.

It wasn’t necessarily a secret that you had your more than fair share of horrible boyfriends but not everyone in the world knew. Armin and a few of you two’s other friends knew because either you told them or Eren blabbed his mouth to them about every time you’d complain to him about some stupid guy and that’s the reason why Armin knew about almost everything.

Since the ninth grade, he’d heard from Eren about all the horrible guys you’ve dated who played you, lied, cheated, yelled, even left you stranded at a party and all Armin wished was that you found a guy that actually found the sweetness and greatness in you. He wished more than anything that it would be him.

He dreamed about all the things he’d do for you, to you, and with you, that’d put a smile on your face. All the things you’d deserve that he’d give you even if it nearly killed him.

He wanted that more than ever right now as he looked at you relaxing in the hot water that was filling up the tub very fast. He reached his hand into the tub and grabbed yours holding it comfortingly and rubbing his thumb over your knuckles which made your eyes open and dart to him “I love you (y/n).” Armin spoke softly leaning his cheek against the side of his tub never looking away from you with his light-colored eyelashes fluttering with minor blinks and it seemed as if he was trying to stop blinking so he wouldn’t waste a single second looking away from you.

“I love you too Armin.” You said with a kind smile on your face as you squeezed his hand with his cheeks turning red from your words. Your smile slowly turned from kind to mischievous as your pure thoughts changed to the complete opposite realizing you were naked.

You lifted your foot out of the tub and rested it on the edge which drew the blonde’s attention “Y’know armin…I didn’t learn much from your study session.” You whispered looking back up at Armin who very quickly caught onto what you were trying to say and got incredibly embarrassed “Come on, you’re the one that called it that…” He muttered lifting his head from the side of the tub as he looked away from you his cheeks burning a bright red.

That was true, you were the one who called it that but you both didn’t even attempt to get down to the science. Got down and dirty before Armin could even get to the beginning of the science work “Yeah but I hope we get another one, I actually wanna learn somethin’.” You said shrugging your shoulders as you placed your other leg on the other side of the tub spreading them.

Armin’s eyes were locked on your wet legs as water dripped in droplets from your calves, he wondered if his cum was still there or if it had washed out into the water “What next? Seems like you got biology down pretty good.” He said meeting your eyes again with a smile on his face that matched yours.

“Maybe neuroscience. I can teach you stuff too like what makes girls happy.” Armin almost laughed at how you were referring to serotonin but clearly forgot what it was called, he would’ve if he didn’t watch how the drops of water rolled down your tits to your areolas and down to your tummy.

Armin brought his hand to your leg and rubbed it up and down making you bite down into your lip “I think I know what makes girls happy.” He said his hand growing closer to your crotch moving down to your inner thigh and the ache in your cunt returned practically pulsing as you watched the way he looked at you. Seemed he realized the way you were squeezing around nothing.

You tilted your head as you looked at him sinking deeper into the warm water “Really? What makes me happy then?” You questioned with a whine slipping out with each inch Armin’s hand came closer and his smirk widened as the glowing in his eyes returned as if he was some sort of predator getting ready to pounce and eat you alive.

“Me.”

#torasplanet.ᐟ #eren yeager #marls-fics.ᐟ #armin arlert #armin arlert x reader #armin arlert smut #aot x reader #aot smut #aot college au #armin arlert fluff #so sappyyy #can u tell when i got sad halfway through writing this #◛⑅·˚armin;p

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inbarfink · 1 month

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Ace Attorney Lawyers Ranked By Their Abilities in Physical Combat

Winston Payne: I’m pretty sure the average Tumblr user could kill Winston Payne with their bare hands.

Sebastian DeBeste: Look, the only reason why this wimp ranks higher than Payne is because he is so sopping wet pathetic that there is a significant chance that his opponent will just start feeling bad about kicking his ass and punch themself in the face instead.

Klavier Gavin: While Klavier is a physically fit young man who is known to keep his cool in extreme situations, he is also a giant law-abiding nerd who has never thrown a punch at anything that isn’t an inanimate wall. It probably wouldn’t be that hard to shove this guy into a locker.

Miles Edgeworth: Look, Miles is an even bigger locker-worthy nerd than Klavier. Anytime anyone, friend or foe, suggests a violent solution he just gets freaked out and begs for them to follow procedures. And no AA Lawyer is more easily thrown off his rhythm and startled than he is. He might have some bulk under the magenta and frills (or at least some impressive leg muscles from climbing 12 flights of stairs every day for like seven years), but he has no idea or will to actually use them in a fight. However, he did try and stare down a man who was aiming a gun at his back that one time and managed to keep his cool throughout all of this.

So like, he’d probably talk a big game and try and intimidate his opponent into not engaging - but if that won’t work he will get his ass thoroughly whooped. And then he’d try to sue them, which is what his threats were about all along.

Apollo Justice: Actually a considerable step up in power-levels from the previous ones. Apollo might be smol, but he is Done With Your Shit and this gives him Strength. Not to mention that one time he successfully tanked an explosion. His famous Chords of Steel can also serve as a tactic to confuse or weaken his enemies.

Kristoph Gavin: Although he is primarily known for his schemes and poisoning, he did kill a man with a single blow to the forehead with a bottle, showing he does have some decent upper-body-strength to use in a fight. And being known as ‘the Coolest Defense in the West’ means he can keep his calm even during hectic combat. But he’s also very pretentious and his constant pontifications might just be the perfect opportunity for someone to smash his face in.

Blaise Debeste: Okay, look, is Blaise a scary tall man who successfully stabbed a woman to death with a candelabra and constantly carries around a deceptively-powerful lighter and has like, implied, motorcycle gang background? Yes. But also I think anyone who encounters Blaise Debeste face-to-face is overcome with such bloodlust rage that it might give them an edge in the battle against him.

Mia Fey: Mia ranks fairly high on the Battle Scale considering the one time she was faced with a violent altercation she just tried to escape and it… didn’t end well.

However, in the two times we get to play as her it’s also clear that she wants to Punch. All of the Things. While Apollo is fueled by being Done With Your Shit, Mia has righteous anger - so I think in a situation where she is actually prepared to do battle she would be able to throw a few decent punches. Also assuming we are talking about Mia while she was still alive, there’s also her Spirit Channeling powers to account for. While we’ve never seen them on screen, Maya told us they are “first rate” and I believe her. Maybe she could channel the spirit of a great warrior to try and get an edge in combat?

Manfred Von Karma: While he also has the same Bloodlust-Inducing-Factor as Blaise, and he does seem less physically fit even though they’re about the same age - I feel like his cane could do more serious damage than Blaise’s lighter. And he has that dangerous fucking Stun Gun on him to easily neutralize opponents. Plus, he did tank that one gunshot he got in the shoulder. Manfred’s opponents might have Rage on their side, but also you cannot underestimate the power of his sheer Spite.

Godot: On one hand, Godot has shown an ability to keep his cool in very dangerous situations. He can smash a coffee cup with his bare hands and barely react, showing that he’s decently strong and resilient to pain. And he is yet another proud (?) member of the exclusive “Lawyers With a Body Count Club”. And while stabbing a waifish, 155cm college student (and part time-poisoner) in the back isn’t exactly the most epic demonstration of battle prowess in the history of Anime Lawyers - he did it (and moved the body and doctored the crime scene and prosecuted in court) while tanking a knife slash in his face, showing his pain-resilience once again, as well as general tenacity that would also be useful in battle. Also, he can summon an infinite amount of hot coffee mugs at will, which must make for a decent improvised long-ranged attack.

On the other hand, his health is also heavily implied to be deteriorating and that he’s basically dying over the course of the final case… possibly due to all of that physical exhaustion. If a fight goes longer than just a single backstab, I feel like these health complications are gonna harm Godot’s performance.

Phoenix Wright: Okay, so this is actually the hardest one to place. I keep flip-flopping on where to put him, especially compared to Mia, and Apollo. Because unlike most other lawyers currently ranked below him, he is a disaster when it comes to being on the offensive; Phoenix Wright is a total wimp who has never returned a punch in his life. However, he is also almost supernaturally durable, unbelievably lucky and deceptively strong. If a solid iron door, a raging freezing river and a speeding car didn’t manage to take him down, what chance does a fellow human, even a more combat-capable one, have???

Calisto Yew: She’s not even a real-lawyer! She’s a Secret Spy who successfully pretended to be a Lawyer for years! She’s got a gun, she’s got a knife, she's got crossbow bolt as hair decorations, she probably has some combat training from her time in Interpol… While she’s clearly more specialized for espionage and infiltration, and not as physically strong as Lang, she’s still got an impressive advantage over most of the regular people who went to Law School. In fact, her skill with barefaced lies and manipulation might also be a skill she could use in a fight to catch her opponent off-guard.

Nahyuta Sahdmadhi: Nahyuta is, in fact, one of the few AA Lawyers to canonically participate in what I would unambiguously call a ‘fight’ (rather than a ‘murder’), when he single-handedly disarmed and apprehended a Defiant Dragon rebel in the sorta-canon ‘Spirit of Justice’ Prologue video.

Like, that rebel guy probably isn't the world's greatest warrior, but the Defiant Dragons have been around for enough time to give their members at least some basic self-defense/combat skills… more so than the average lawyer on this list at minimum. And Nahyuta very easily crab-stomped him. Showing that he has strong nerves, some amazing reflexes and the martial art skills to knock a man unconscious with a single blow. Not to mention the seemingly supernatural skills with his prayer beads, which he already uses as a sort of ‘weapon’ in court. Also that... thing he did to Apollo's bracelet that one time.

Nahyuta might be just straight-up Magic, that's pretty OP.

Franziska von Karma: Look, Franziska might not have official martial-arts, guns, or Literal Magic Powers - but what she does have is sheer determination and force or personality. Franziska von Karma has been intimidating grown men since she was a 149 cm tall 13 years old with a riding crop (I mean, one of those men was Miles, but still…..). She had once whipped Phoenix Wright into unconsciousness in a temper tantrum, and like I already mentioned that taking him down is quite a feat. She is also very resilient - while the shot to her shoulders was designed not to kill her, being up back on her feet doing investigation stuff a day after is still very impressive! Her whip might not be as dangerous as a sword or a gun, but she will not relent until she defeats you.

Simon Blackquill: Let me just give it to you straight, Simon Blackquill is 1.88 meter tall, he owns a katana and a trained attack-hawk (giving him both short range and far range advantage), he can break solid metal chains with his bare hands, he can cut your hair halfway across the room with a feather. Not to mention how he could probably use the whole psychological manipulation in battle to intimidate or goad his enemy. There’s not even a lot of funny or interesting points to bring up, he is literally an action movie character who just happens to also be a lawyer.

Athena Cykes: Athena Cykes is the strongest lawyer. One day, she’ll be stronger than whales. I believe in her.

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artycomicfangirl · 1 month

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“So YOU’RE the fellas that’s been messin’ with my Sweet-Pea… You know, Ever seen Firecracker Flowers in a garden before? They’re real pretty…How ‘bout I give ya Koopa-Goons the full bunch, huh?”

//Spoiler alert. She did not give them any flowers, pffft//

Whoop, I do apologize for my constant Daisy obsession. But this time I’m actually working on an SMBSS design character sheet for her, and other Nintendo girls. So, was testing stuff out!

Of course the Flower Princess would know how to handle all things flowers!

Now currently it’s a trying to also think about Daisy’s personality for this. Right now I’m sort of drawing some inspiration from Rogue from the X-Men animated series. Beautiful, not afraid to be pretty and all. But is definitely more tougher.

Probably unlike Peach who takes a more rational and reasoning approach. Daisy is a bit more blunt and speaks her mind.

In fact, I think it may be implied That King Koopa has only attempted to kidnap her once, but NEVER again. A running gag is whenever Daisy is mentioned, it’s clear that he dislikes her on the same level as he does with Mario. He had never attempted to make her his Bride. But the moment she shows up, he instantly becomes Timid. Clearly traumatized.

The extent of her Damage of what she did to his force, no one knows. But it’s enough of a secret King Koopa is so greatly embarrassed about, he refuses to let see the light of day.

Daisy will never let that die down. But King Koopa will literally trip over his own feet just to prevent her from even opening her mouth.

The closest thing you’ll ever get to know, is that she “Smacked him into next week!”

#fanart #digital art #artists on tumblr #art #super mario #nintendo #princess daisy #sketches #the super mario bros super show #super mario bros

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dandylovesturtles · 4 months

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I should be in bed lol but I wanted to write a turtle tot sick fic so here

I went into this with no plan and it ended up uh. way sadder than I intended. whoops.

cw: mentions of vomit

...

Blue slept through naptime. That should have been Splinter's first clue.

In the moment, he'd just been so happy to actually have four sleeping children that he'd taken the opportunity for his own nap, the old, tattered storybook he'd been reading them draped over his face. He never managed to get Blue to wind down enough to sleep, so he usually had to quietly entertain him with books or the tv on low until the others woke up. But his Baby Blue had conked out almost immediately today, and soon Splinter was snoozing right along with them.

Blue was also the last to wake up. That should have been the second clue.

Splinter was woken up by Orange, talking in loud, disjointed sentences with plenty of nonsense words as he played with an old plastic telephone Splinter had found them. Red was racing his toy cars, making his own sound effects as they skid across the floor and crashed into the wall. Only Purple was quiet, industriously sorting his legos by color and size.

Splinter sat up, letting the book slide off his face, and took stock. It was surprising to see Blue still curled up against his leg even in the midst of all the racket his brothers were making. "Blue?" he said softly, giving the little turtle a nudge. Blue blinked his eyes open, groggily looking around. "Naptime is over."

Blue pushed himself up into a sitting position, then rubbed clumsily at his eyes. He looked so tired still that Splinter debated telling him he could keep sleeping, even if it might make putting him to bed later more difficult.

But once Blue was up, he saw Red racing his cars and pushed quickly to his feet, hurrying over to join in the game. Almost immediately he was demanding Red hand over one of the cars and setting up an elaborate make-believe track for their race, so Splinter let it go.

Thirty minutes later, Blue tugged on Splinter's old sweatpants and said, "Daddy, my tummy hurts." In hindsight, this is exactly when Splinter should have put it together.

But the kids rarely got sick - a benefit of whatever Draxum had put in the gunk that turned them into this, Splinter assumed. Which was a blessing, because he was pretty limited in what medicine he could get in his condition. The boys having a hearty immune system was one of the few things Splinter had going for him.

So he hadn't moved to that conclusion. Instead he said, "Do you need to go potty?" and Blue had considered that very seriously for a few seconds before nodding and rushing off to the bathroom.

Orange threw the plastic phone into Purple's meticulously organized lego piles and Splinter moved on to the next crisis without another thought.

It was at dinner, when he caught Blue pushing his food (mac'n'cheese!) around without interest, that it finally clicked that maybe he should be worried.

"Blue, what's wrong?"

Blue didn't so much as look up. He shrugged, swirling his noodles around and around.

Splinter would be embarrassed to admit how long it took him to remember their earlier conversation, but it eventually came back to him. "Ah... Is your stomach still hurting?"

Blue's face scrunched up in misery, and he nodded.

Splinter groaned in exasperation. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"I did!"

"I mean after you went potty."

Blue grimaced. Instead of answering, he scooped up some mac'n'cheese and stuffed it in his mouth. He looked like he regretted it as soon as he'd done it.

"Do not spit that out," said Splinter immediately, because mac'n'cheese was one of the few things Purple would eat and if Blue spat it out in front of him it would go on his Bad Foods list for at least a month. And Orange had a habit of mimicking anything Blue did, which would only compound the problem.

Blue chewed and swallowed the mouthful agonizingly slowly. He looked so miserable afterward that Splinter felt bad about it.

"Are you going to throw up, Blue?" he asked, and got a furious head shake in response. "Are you just telling me that?" Another shake. "Do you want to keep eating?" A third shake. Splinter sighed and took his bowl from him. "Alright. I'll put this in the fridge, if you want it later."

Their mini-fridge was already stuffed full, but Splinter would simply have to make space, or throw all this mac'n'cheese out. He wished they had a bigger fridge, but just getting this back to the juncture in the sewers he called a home had been difficult enough.

He wished he had a bigger fridge. He wished he had a house. He wished he had a pediatrician to take Blue to. He wished he wasn't a rat man. He wished he and his kids were... normal.

It was a bad thought. He knew that as soon as he thought it, and he tried to push it down. The kids didn't need to know they weren't normal. That none of this was normal. He knew that, but...

"Throw up?" he heard Purple say, and then the telltale sound of him pushing his bowl away. Mac'n'cheese was on the Bad Foods list. Splinter groaned.

...

He found their old thermometer after the boys were finished eating. Getting a temperature from Blue was near impossible because he moved it around too much or spat it out before time was up, but Splinter would have to do his best.

After three tries, he got a reading that seemed accurate enough. Blue's body ran colder than a human child's, and it had taken observation and trial and error for Splinter to learn what constituted as a fever. As it was, Blue was only two degrees above his normal. So at least that wasn't too worrying.

He was still complaining that his stomach hurt, though. A stomach bug, then? Or just something he ate? Usually Red was the one who would put random things in his mouth unless Splinter kept a careful watch, but Blue and Orange were... adventurous eaters, too. It was possible.

They continued with their normal bedtime routine. Another thing Splinter had going for him was that his boys loved baths; getting them into their makeshift tub, even with lukewarm water, was always easy. From his research, Red, Blue, and Purple were all aquatic turtles, and Orange was not one to be left out of his brothers’ games no matter his biology.

Blue wasn't excited for bath time tonight, though. He sat quietly in the tub, making grumpy noises anytime he got splashed and playing only with his favorite blue shark toy, ignoring everything else. He definitely felt bad. Splinter was feeling increasingly terrible that he hadn't noticed.

He got them all toweled off and into their pajamas. Then into the pallet beds he had for them, all in one big shared alcove, a tattered curtain strung up for a semblance of privacy. They would need something more as they got older, but for now the boys seemed content to share space.

He tucked Red, Purple, and Orange in, then turned his attention to Blue. He had found an old bucket earlier that he (theoretically) used for mopping, and this he presented to Blue.

"If you are going to throw up, please do it in this," he told Blue. "We don't have any spare sheets."

"Not gonna," said Blue grumpily, pushing the bucket away.

"Ewww," whined Purple. "I don't want to share with Leo if he throws up."

"Not gonna!" Blue insisted, glaring at Purple, who glared back. Splinter sighed and pushed the bucket at Blue again.

"I am serious, Leonardo," he said, and that got Blue's attention. "If you throw up, do it in this bucket."

Instead of answering, Blue rolled over and scrunched himself up in a ball. That was the best Splinter was going to get, he supposed, so he just sighed and put the bucket next to Blue's bed.

"Good night, boys," he said as he got to his feet, ignoring the crackles from his back and knees.

"Good niiiight," came three echoes. Blue was giving him the silent treatment. Alright.

He went back to his own bed, sectioned off by an old divider screen he'd managed to find. Hopefully they could at least get through the night without disaster striking.

...

According to his beat up alarm clock, it was only two hours later when Red showed up by his bedside, shaking him awake urgently.

Splinter groaned his way into consciousness, blinking groggy eyes until his eldest son came into focus.

"Leo threw up," came Red's predictable report.

Splinter sighed, pushing his sheets aside and rising from his futon. "Did he make it in the bucket?"

Red's expression was not encouraging.

...

He had not made it in the bucket.

Blue sat stock still in the puddle of his own sick, eyes teary and expression a mix between stunned and embarrassed. Purple was pressed as close to the opposite wall as he could get, hands pressed tight over his nose and mouth. Orange was at Blue's side, patting his arm with his chubby little hand.

"Blue," Splinter snapped as soon as he saw the mess. "Why didn't you throw up in the bucket!?"

"Didn't think I was gonna," Blue croaked.

"Well, you did. All over your sheets." Splinter ran his hands over his tired eyes. "Now you have nothing for tonight. And who knows if I'll even be able to get the stain out. I may have to go all the way to the surface to get new ones, and do you know what a hassle that is!? The bucket was right here, Blue!"

"I'm sorry."

The miserable hiccup in Blue's voice effectively stopped Splinter's tirade, and he refocused on his son. Blue's tears had spilled over, streaking down his miserable face. He was shivering, hands clutching the fabric of his ruined sheets, wringing them tight. He looked terrified.

"I'm sorry, Daddy," he repeated. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

Something inside Splinter cracked.

Leo was only four, by his best guess. He was a baby, still. A sick baby, and Splinter was yelling at him about... about bed sheets?

Blue didn't know that Splinter would have to steal him new sheets. He didn't know that Splinter feared every time he did something so risky, that it might expose their tiny family to hostile forces - the human authorities, Big Mama's goons, Draxum's gargoyles. He didn't know that Splinter should be taking him to a doctor right now. He didn't know that sleeping on a pallet bed in the sewers wasn't normal.

He just knew that he had thrown up, and his dad was mad about it.

Immediately, Splinter stooped and scooped the still-apologizing Blue into his arms. He was getting bigger all the time, and, somehow, Splinter was getting smaller, but he could still hold his boys in his arms, still cradle them against his chest.

"Blue... Leo, listen to me."

"I'm sorry," Blue mumbled again, followed by a sad, wet hiccup.

"Shh, shh, no, my son, please listen." He waited until teary eyes were turned on him to continue. "You don't need to apologize. You did nothing wrong."

"Missed the bucket," said Blue, and Splinter shook his head.

"That's alright. You're sick. It is my job to take care of these things." He scratched at the back of Blue's shell with the arm holding him, something he knew always calmed Blue down. Sure enough, he felt his boy begin to relax. "Do not worry about the sheets. If Daddy needs to get more, he will. For now we will all share."

Blue sniffed, and buried his face in Splinter's chest. That was a good sign. Splinter kept up the scraching.

"I'm sorry I yelled. You aren't in trouble, Blue. You're alright."

Blue sniffled again. Hiccupped one last time. His tears were drying up, and his little voice said, "S'okay, Daddy."

"Oh, my Baby Blue... Thank you."

He still felt terrible as he lowered Leo back to his bed and started to strip away the soiled sheets, but Leo had calmed down considerably. He kept the bucket close, though, even as he laid back down again on his pillow.

"Leo can have my blanket," said Red, already pulling the old thing over. Splinter smiled gratefully at him.

"Thank you, Red. Blue, do you think you will throw up again?"

Blue shrugged. "Dunno."

"That's alright. It's okay if you do." Splinter smoothed the blanket over Blue, not tucking him in so he could move if he needed to. "I'll get this sheet washed out and be back, alright?"

Blue nodded. He was still gripping the bucket with one hand. Splinter rubbed his head, then stood up with his bundle of soiled sheets.

When he returned, with water for Blue, he'd thrown up again - in the bucket, this time. Orange was still by him, rubbing his arm, while Red sat behind him, supporting his back. Even Purple had come close, awkwardly patting at Blue's leg while pointedly avoiding looking at the bucket.

"Thank you for taking such good care of Blue," he told them, getting three beaming smiles in return.

They were all going to have the bug by tomorrow. Splinter would need to find more buckets.

#rottmnt #rise splinter #rise leo #dandy fanfiction #idk what this is lol #thinking about the early years gets me ok

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impishjesters · 8 months

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hiii! Could I just say that I absolutely love your writing and they way you describe jax? I love your writing style as well. So-

Could you write a jax x reader where the reader is very sensitive and prone to crying? Like they have a super loud and bold personality, kind of like jax, so you'd think a few mean words wouldn't affect them right? Wrong. They're actually super sensitive and can cry easily. Like maybe if jax were to get into a fight with reader and maybe takes it too far?

warnings(s): Jax, insults/name calling, nondescriptive arguments, angst (I tried to balance it out with some fluff in the second half) note(s): Jax is a noticeable ass in the first half of this, honestly Jax is his own warning A/N: I truthfully believe that his reaction would heavily depend on whether the two of you were just two people trapped here vs in a relationship of some sort. I don't want to post him being only an asshole, so I included his response/reactions if you were his s/o as well. (Also thank you for the kind words! 💜)

As two people trapped in the digital hellscape together

It doesn’t take you long to learn Jax’s disregard for the emotions of others. His blatant disregard for Gangle’s tears and Pomni’s little panic attacks that he only eggs on are proof enough.

Jax would’ve never suspected you to be sensitive given your loud and bold personality, he’s never noticed the subtle change in your posture or behavior when you get insultingly clumped in with the rest—or if he did notice, he never said anything.

A fight with Jax is a one-sided fight, he’ll throw some backhanded question about why you were suddenly being a crybaby, an unfunny joke about how you must’ve taken Gangle’s tragedy mask when he wasn’t looking.

“Look it’s not that big of a deal, I don’t know why you’re getting all bent out of shape.”

Jax is an ass through and through, he’s not trying to gaslight you into believing you’re crying over nothing, he genuinely believes you’re making a big deal out of nothing. It’s just words.

As his s/o

Again you are aware of just what kind of person Jax is—that said you are given some leniency to his awful behavior, unlike the others you have a special place in his chest cavity

As mentioned above he never really suspected you to be sensitive, though he can sort of piece two and two together when your behavior changes or if you just up and outright walk away.

Seeing your eyes water is definitely an indicator that what was said may have offended you in some manner.

Jax isn’t good with this sort of stuff, does he approach you and ask about it? Or does he just ignore it and let you come to him?

Ah, fuck…

It’s not that he doesn’t care that he upset you, but he’s just a tad confused about why you are suddenly upset.

The whole thing gets even messier when the two of you get into a fight. To him, this “fight” isn’t a big deal, when you mention that it’s something he said callously, he’s reminded of the times you walked away seemingly upset.

It takes him a few minutes to compose his thoughts and word himself carefully enough to avoid making the situation any worse, it’s one of the rare times you’ll get him to be more genuine and serious to work this out.

Afterward, he makes the effort to remember not to say or do certain things that particularly upset you. Though it’s tough, sometimes that shit just comes out with no filter, and whoops there he goes saying the thing he told himself he wasn’t going to say with you around.

None of it is ever directly aimed at you though, he can do that much at least.

On the occasion that something minor slips he’ll apologize later on, sigh, and give you a hug. Hugs don’t fix everything but they do get you to stop crying. (This is usually only during cases where you get choked up levels of sensitivity, like, a dog in a movie died and that’s a sad kind of sensitivity.)

On the topic of crying, Jax playfully (genuine) pokes fun at you when you cry over something minuscule. He’ll tease and ask if it’s a hobby crying over the little things—again not maliciously, if anything it’s kinda cute. (You are allowed to take a smack at him if his teasing is too much, he probably deserves it.)

#jax #jax x reader #tadc #tadc jax #the amazing digital circus #the amazing digital circus x reader

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lilystyles · 1 year

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old friends.

part one of the no strings attached series by @lilystyles

no strings attached masterlist & main masterlist xxx

authors note i’m aussie so i have no idea what england/london (where this fic is set) is actually like. so if i get it wrong i apologise i’ve never been there! also, i know harry didn’t go to uni and became famous way younger than in this fic but for the sake of the plot pls ignore that! and gif credits to the original owner as always. make sure to follow if you want to see part two!

brief description harry and y/n are old friends who reunite and quickly pick right back up where they left off. new tensions arise and a deal is struck up.

warnings! mentions of sex, smut (m! receiving, dry humping, kissing, fingering), swearing, alcohol abuse and overall just a mature read. 5kish words (i didn't mean to make it this long whoops enjoy)

inexperienced!virgin!reader x fwb!harry

* * * * *

Maybe getting with him wasn’t the best idea. Y/n could admit that.

She knew getting involved with one of her oldest friends and messing with the friend group dynamic was a dangerous game, they’d all been mates for years, and she had taken it into account before they struck up the deal. But there was just something about Harry that she couldn’t help but be drawn to.

She’d known him since her they were kids. They’d grown up together from the awkward stages all the way up to now. He was this successful rockstar who the world simply adored, and she had always known he’d do something great with himself ever since she’d been old enough to comprehend the idea itself. She was studying still at university in a degree she loved. They had made it in this world! So far from their small village where they had dreamed up their futures. If only the two children could see them now.

Though they were never best friends when they were younger they had always ran in the same circle and saw a lot of each other for as long as Y/n could remember it. It was only during University that they had become close friends. They had even been roommates for a year there. They both only knew each other then so it made sense for them to be together a lot.

Even through all those years, nothing had ever been more than platonic between them. Sure, Y/n had known he was handsome, and overall a lovely person but she knew that he was her friend more importantly. She valued that. She loved her friends, all of them.

She’ll admit that there had been moments where she’d briefly thought of Harry in that way. Usually, when they were out drinking and he’d take care of her, only a few times when they were roommates and they shared late nights talking on the couch, but overall she kept it at bay. Knowing that friendship was more important to her than almost anything.

Not to mention Harry was a very loved man, he’d had many girlfriends in the years Y/n had known him. They had never particularly warmed to her, especially when they were roommates they all despised her. Honestly though, back then they had nothing to worry about. Y/n was too scared to try anything.

But there was always some sort of tension there. Y/n never understood it really, not until a good friend of the both of them, James, said that it was just the way Harry treated her. He called her pet names, was constantly affectionate towards her (especially drunk), loved to make her laugh, and during Uni they were inseparable. When his fame skyrocketed she saw much less of him, understandably, and she got busy with her studies.

When he came home for a break from touring and showed up at the group’s Christmas party he saw her for the first time in about two years. They had drifted but not in the sense that it was awkward, more so that it was like when they saw each other it was like not a moment had passed. She smiled widely and stood up from the couch surprised to see him in there in front of her and not just splashed on a billboard.

She was still Y/n, but she was older. She wasn’t in a baggy old shirt with her eyes glued to a computer typing away. She was here in a tight red jumper that showed a sliver of skin and a tattoo by her hip that he had never known about, with these jeans that hugged her perfect body. Her cheeks were just as rosy as before, her eyes just as doe-like, lips just as sweet only covered in a red gloss. She was still Y/n, but Harry felt like he was back in primary school when he’d pulled on her pigtail. She was fucking gorgeous and their history made it even better. He knew her well, so well. That would never change.

Even having not seen or heard from each other properly for nearly two years he instantly made his way to her and pulled her into a tight hug. His ring-covered hands were on the exposed skin of her lower back, as she giggled into his chest happily in a welcome surprise.

His deep voice rumbled. “Hi, stranger.”

“Haz,” She sighed. It’d been a long time since he’d heard that nickname. She pulled back to look at him; he was just as beautiful as before, more tattooed, more glamorous but still the beautiful boy she remembered.

“Hi.” She said softly, eyelashes fluttering.

Nothing happened that night, not then. They just talked until the sun rose, catching up it was like no time had passed. He was still as charming and funny and she was still as coy and kind.

New Year’s Eve was the next time they saw each other after reuniting. He found Y/n sadly sitting on the balcony of their friend Daisy’s apartment. She was in this little silver disco-ball dress with tall boots, a cigarette in her mouth. He’d been ordered by the others to find her. It was freezing out here.

“What are you doing out here, Love?”

She turned and he could see the glassy wash of her eyes. She looked so pretty, even when she cried.

“Nothing.” She replied, shoulders slumped over.

“Missing the fun inside. Aren’t you cold, Babe?” His hand stroked her bare shoulder softly. He felt the goosebumps, and the warmth of his hand was welcome.

She shrugged. “I’m fine, H.”

“What’s got a gorgeous girl like you frownin’, hmm?” He knew why. Daisy had told him. The guy she had been dating recently had stood her up, without so much as a text. She’d checked his Instagram story to see he was off somewhere else with some other woman. It wasn’t that serious and after the Christmas party, she had questioned if she was even truly attracted to him. No one made her laugh like Harry, or feel so special. He made anyone feel like they were special.

“Harry?”

“Y/n?” He replied.

“Be honest, I need a male opinion.” He walked towards her taking off his leather jacket to put on her body, she smiled up at him. Grateful for the warmth, the smell was comforting and suddenly it was years ago. The first time they went to a New Year’s party during University. Deja vu.

“Y/n, how do you wear such tiny clothes in this weather!” Exclaimed Harry. He was rugged up in a big brown wool coat, and a crimson scarf bundled around his neck, his jumper was this old led zeppelin one that Y/n loved on him. His pants were old flared jeans and he had some loafers on.

Y/n looked up at him, they were on the balcony of an apartment complex. It was a few minutes until the countdown then it would be 2014. “Fashion is pain, Haz. C’mon. I look great don’t I?” She gestured down to her red dress which was a similar shade to his scarf. She had a tiny shawl over her shoulders but other than that she wasn’t prepared for the snowy evening.

“I can’t argue there but you are the biggest baby when you get sick, I can’t have you catching a cold.” He shrugged off his big coat and wrapped her up in it. It smelled of him; mint, cigarettes and a spicy woodsy smell.

“Says the one who I had to spoonfeed!”

“Oh shoosh. Now I need your advice about Mia she’s been eyeing me up all night….”

“Of course, I owe you, you helped so much with my girl problems in uni.” He seemed to be thinking of that night too.

“Is…” She sighed and looked away from him to stare off at the city lights. The smell of his jacket was just like the wool one, the comforting mood was still there. “Is a girl- a girl being inexperienced…in bed…pathetic?”

He frowned, confused. “No of course not. A lot of people like to wait or don’t want to be with someone who doesn’t care, and that’s okay. It’s not pathetic at all.” Harry had a few drinks that night so he didn’t connect the dots straight away at what Y/n was saying.

“I’ve heard differently.” And she had, her experience with boys was sad.

He frowned before his eyes widened. He was honestly surprised. “Wait, Y/n, is this- is this about you?”

“Please don’t look at me like that, Harry I already feel pathetic enough.” She covered her face with her hands.

He got closer to her. “You are far from pathetic, Lovie.”

“You don’t understand. Anyway, you’ve had loads of sex your Harry Styles for god’s sake!”

“Y/n, define inexperienced,” He sat beside her, knee pressing into hers.

She winced. “I’ve only ever kissed people, ‘never gone further than that. Never even had a boyfriend, you know that.”

Harry smiled, endearingly. She hadn’t changed, he felt like he was back in first year of university when she was complaining about how no guys asked her out. “So?”

“So the reason my date didn’t show up was because I told him I was a virgin yesterday.” It clicked now, the cold wind must have been sobering him up.

“He’s a total wanker. You are not pathetic by any means because of that. And anyway, virginity is a social construct to control and devalue women!” He said, angry at this guy who he’d never even met. It was like when one of the lads on the rugby team made a bet to get in her pants in their second year of university.

He’d never been so angry.

“Really?” She said looking up with a frown.

He grabbed her hand giving it a tight squeeze, the metal of his rings cold against her warm hand.

“Promise! It’s actually attractive in a way—” He was cut off by the door slamming open.

“Hey guys it's one minute till midnight!” Said Penny interrupting their moment, she rushed back inside again to hide from the cold. Motioning for them to join the rest of them inside.

They could both hear the chanting inside. Neither made a move to go inside.

“10! 9! 8!”

Harry looked at Y/n, and she smiled gently at him leaning close to him. He tucked a strand of her hair back behind her ear.

“What happened to your date anyway?” She asked shifting the topic.

He shrugged, to be honest, he didn’t know or care. Y/n had been on his mind the whole damn night. “I think she went home.”

“5! 4! 3!”

“Oh.” She said, looks like they both had no luck this year.

“Can I kiss you?”

That caught her off guard, but she nodded when she heard the cheers for Happy New Year inside, remembering. “For luck, right?”

To be honest he’d forgotten it was New Year’s. When the final count happened he leaned forward and kissed her, it lasted longer than it should have between two friends. But they were too drunk to care.

When they pulled apart fireworks shot off in the sky. They watched in silence still close to each other, warmth radiating. They were in their own little world.

Y/n looked up at him when the fireworks stopped, a special look in her eyes. Mischief and drunkenness.

“Do you want to come over to mine? I’ve moved since the last time you saw me…”

He smirked, a glint in his eye. “Let’s go.”

When they arrived at Y/n’s new flat Harry paid the cabby wishing him a happy new year. She was still wrapped in his leather coat as she waited for him impatiently on the path. She grabbed his hand to guide the way when the taxi drove away. She was on the third floor.

It was this old London apartment. Beautiful and in a really nice area.

“You friends with everyone in the building? I wouldn’t be surprised, you are certainly a charmer.” He jested as they sat in the lift on the way up. Harry knew how she had a habit of chatting with everyone. When they lived together she made the entire floor gingerbread and Christmas cards.

“Oh shut up, you’re the real charmer of us both. Girls scream when they see you walking down the street!” She pulled him inside. Taking off her scarf and boots before turning on one of the lamps. It gave a orange glow to the room.

“You know I don’t mind when girls scream.” He teased.

This made Y/n blush. He noticed and giggled at her pinching her cheek.

“Oh, leave me alone.” She pouted peeling the coat off.

They took their coats off and hung them on the rack. Y/n showed him around the flat quickly. It was a vast improvement from her old place. Her old place was this shoe box, it was also in a really scary area which always worried Harry when they were friends. He helped her move in before he went on his first tour. She couldn’t afford anywhere as nice as this before. She’d kept a lot of her old stuff. It was certainly her place and if someone brought him here and he had to guess who it belonged to, he’d say her.

First, he saw the living room. It had this great big red 70s leather couch with knitted rugs on top and a gorgeous original fireplace. He was surprised to see a photograph of the pair of them on the mantle above it. He walked over, they were probably 15 in the photograph. It was beside a few other old ones.

“Look how cute you look, Love.” He lifted it up and pointed at her face.

She groaned. “Are you serious? Look at my hair there! Was not doing me any favours at all.”

He turned to face her his hand finding her hair. “I’ve always loved your hair.”

Y/n kissed his cheek in response, it was more flirty and sloppy than she had intended. He kissed hers back.

Then there was a moment where they just stared.

Until softly she spoke, “Harry?”

“Yeah, Babe?”

“D’you wanna have sex with me?”

He was startled, his hand was still in her hair thumb on her jaw. “Do you?”

She flinched stepping away. “Sorry, that was stupid of me. But seriously you’re hot and funny, and I trust you more than any other guy, I mean who could be better for this? I’m drunk and your drunk, we can just say it was a one-night stand and carry on being friends, can’t we? Call it a drunken fling? A favour even.”

“Y/n—”

She was rambling now. “Oh no! You think I’m pathetic, don’t you? Begging you for sex? Jesus, what am I thinking? Look, let’s just blame the tequila and go to sle—”

He leaned forward interrupting her with a kiss to shut her up for a second. She froze momentarily until she decided to kiss him back, his hands slid down her dress as he pulled her closer to him. Her hands found his chest and the kiss began to deepen.

Only when Y/n had started to feel lightheaded did he pull away. He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, his fingers grazing her warm cheeks. “Are you sure you want this?”

Y/n nodded. “Do you want to? Don’t feel pressured, H.”

“Of course I do. You’ve been my wet dream since we were in high school.” She giggled and flung forward pushing him back onto the couch.

“I am?”

Her hands found their way to his jumper and took it off him and he grunted in some form of agreement. She moved from his lips to his neck kissing down the column of it. Sucking on the adam’s apple gently, he sighed as his hands moved to the tops of her thighs. He was totally content right now.

For the first time in a while he was the calm one and she this was raw hungry energy.

“Why haven’t we done this sooner?” He rasped moving her hips against his thigh, she whimpered at the contact. His jean-covered leg had the perfect amount of friction against her thin underwear. She may have been a virgin but that didn’t mean she hadn’t fantasised a lot about this. If anything that only made it worse.

“I don’t- ah- dunno.” She sighed into his ear.

He felt a throb in his pants. It felt like a dream, a filthy one. One he’d probably had before. The number of nights he’d masturbated to something like this was too many to count. Y/n’s tits were at eye level as she humped on his leg needily and he thought he might just cum right then and there.

Her dress was hiked up to her hips and he could see the flash of pink lace, when he leaned forward to kiss her exposed chest he saw the hint of a red bra.

She stopped for a second hands moving from his hair to his chest. “Can I touch you, H?”

“‘Course you can. Be good f’me and touch me.” She slid off him, her clit throbbing at his voice. All deep, rough, and dreamy.

On her knees, she placed a hand on either thigh gently rubbing them. Staring at the large bulge in his pants she grew nervous. The dim lighting of the living room meant it was hard for him to see her entire face but he could see her eyes widen at how large he was.

“You okay there, Lovie?”

She placed her small hand on it, “‘M perfectly fine, Harold.”

His chuckle quickly turned into a choked moan when she palmed him roughly. She looked up at him for approval to keep going. “Yes,” He said, head thrown back on the couch.

She unzipped his jeans revealing black briefs which she’d seen him wander around in when they lived together. He liked to be free of clothes at home. But she had never seen him fully naked before.

She slid her warm hand in there, Harry hissed when she wrapped her hand around his throbbing cock, he felt so sensitive to her touch.

“You sure you want to do this, Angel?” She could feel how much he wanted her. He was throbbing and heavy in her hand. His body was begging for her but spoke softly with no pressure.

“Harry, please, I really want to.” She sighed staring up at him, feeling the weight of him heavy on her hand.

This had to be a dream. He thought. She was literally on her knees begging for his cock in her mouth. Big e/c eyes looking up at his face.

“Needy,” He teased knowing he was probably worse right now. “touch me.”

She didn’t care if she seemed needy the feelings she was having right now were too much, she pulled him out and it sprung up hitting his bare stomach. Her thighs clenched and Harry noticed, smirking.

“Jesus Christ, Harry.” She said in disbelief, hands itching to touch him, “No wonder you always act so cocky,”

He laughed throwing his head back. “You sure you want to keep going?”

“Yes, but can you..” Suddenly she had gotten all shy again, like on the balcony. Embarrassed as if she hadn’t been humping his leg moments ago and whining in his ear for him to make her come.

“Don’t get all shy on me now, baby. Say what’s on your mind.”

“Can you…” She paused again.

“Can I what?”

“Can you show me what to do? Tell me. I mean I want you t’feel good, but I’ll probably be really bad at it. I’ve never done this.”

His hand touched her cheek, thumb stroking her face. “Whatever you do I’m sure I’ll love it, I’ll tell you if I don’t like it. Just try, m’not going to judge. Don’t worry, I’m just your old friend Harry.”

“Just Harry.” She confirmed, easing the anxiety in her stomach a bit.

“Good girl.” He praised gently and she leaned forward kissing the pink tip of cock. He let out a hitched breath.

“You okay?” She asked.

He looked at her confused. “I didn’t ask if this was okay with you. Do you want this?”

“Y/n it’s more than okay.” He replied breathlessly at the sight. “I’m so fuckin’ horny for you right now.” He laughed lightly as if this was a normal thing to do with an old friend. Like it was just a catch-up.

That was all the confirmation she needed before spat on the head and began to stroke him with her hand, the natural lubrication making it easier to go fast. She really only knew stuff from porn. Which was always just intense and messy deepthroating. She wondered if Harry wanted her to be like that. But honestly, she wasn’t sure she could take all of him her mouth. He was just so big.

He was moaning quietly as she kept a steady rhythm. One of his hands was squeezing the couch tightly and the other was holding her free hand that touch his knee. It felt so good.

When she leaned forward and licked a long strip along the length of him, he groaned running a hand through his messy hair. “So good Y/n,”

Y/n loved how vocal he was with her, it eased her worries about being bad. It made her wetter than she could imagine.

When she began to actually suck him he went feral. His hands move into her hair holding it from her face, he had to stop himself from moving his hips up and fucking her mouth. He knew he needed to be gentle right now, but it was feeling too good to believe.

“Jesus Christ, Y/n, you’re too good at that.”

He was moaning every second and every time he let out a particularly pleasured noise Y/n made sure to do it again. Harry opened his eyes and looked down at the sight below him, Y/n’s dainty red-painted hand was stroking the part she couldn’t fit in her mouth and every now and then cupping his balls, her tongue was lapping up every inch of precum that dripped out of him. Kissing his thighs and cock whenever she came up for air. Her red lipstick was smudged and her eyes watering.

Her legs were clenched together and every time he moaned she got wetter for him, she could feel it dripping down her thigh, she was aching to be touched and honestly, this would be something she would masturbate to later.

She was steadily jerking and squeezing him just the right and even amount, as she grinned wickedly up at him.

“You sure you’ve never done this?” He said, whimpering when she licked up another drip of precum.

She laughed. Harry had to say she was better than he thought, not because he thought it would be bad. Simply because most people make the mistake of being too rough and using teeth or being too soft and slow. Y/n was perfect and attentive, she’d learnt in mere minutes how to get him absolutely fucked. He could hardly keep his eyes open.

She began sucking again this time going a bit further, testing her limits. When her nose felt the tickle of hair on his lower navel, she came back up breathing heavily and repeated it a few more times. Harry was moaning even louder now.

“‘M close,” He gestured for her to stop so that he’d finish on his stomach, but she didn’t stop, she went a bit faster. He somehow felt even closer to cumming when she didn’t move, meaning she wanted him to cum in her mouth, just the thought was enough to drive him over the edge. She did a mix of everything she’d been doing and Harry was getting louder and louder each second. It took everything in him not to thrust up and push her head down.

It was the eye contact that got him to finish. She looked up with absolute adoration in her eyes, enjoying her view of his heaving chest, and he couldn’t help himself.

When Y/n felt the hot spurts of his cum fall down her throat, his hips jutted in pleasure. He hadn’t been able to control it. He cried out, “Y/n, fuck!”

When she finally pulled away cum dribbled down her chin and she quickly swiped it on her thumb, holding eye contact as she sucked it. “Mm.” She said.

He felt limp and breathless. “C’mere,” He said and grabbed her. Her knees ached but she didn’t care, knowing they’d be bruised tomorrow. He pulled her onto his lap and kissed her, she was surprised by that. She’d heard from friends that a lot of guys really hated to kiss after a blowjob but Harry had not one single care.

“Your fuckin’ perfect, Y/n.” He said flipping them over as he kissed down her chest. “Can I touch you now, please?”

She nodded.

He stopped looking up, “Words, baby,”

“Yes. Of course, you can.” She said. “Get me out of this please,” She gestured to the dress and he obliged happily, throwing it across the room and nipping at her skin. Kissing every stretch mark, scar and mole. God, she was just perfect.

“You are so beautiful, Y/n. And that mouth,” His thumb touched the bottom lip.

She blushed. “Oh, shoosh.”

“I’ve never cum so hard in my life y’know, I mean it.”

She giggled. “Really?”

“Yes, now accept the compliment and let me help you out.” He almost ordered and she obeyed.

He sucked on her neck, nipping at it as she hissed, he soothed her by swiping his tongue back over that spot. Her hands were scratching his back as he moved down to her lacey undies. A pink bow stared back at him.

He touched the waistband fiddling with the bow. “Cute.”

“Thanks, H.” She replied, trying not to shy away.

“He’s an idiot.” Harry muttered mostly to himself, Y/n frowned confusedly.

Her hand moved from his back to his hair, gently touching him. “What?”

“That wanker who stood y’up, I mean fuckin’ hell, did you do all this for him? Got all sexy n’ wear these jus’ f’him do that ta’ ya’?” His words were slurring more, he was so drunk on her and tired from his orgasm.

She sighed, “It’s for you,” she whispered. If the flat wasn’t dead silent he might’ve missed it.

“Say that again.”

She looked down at him. “I- It’s stupid, Harry, forget it.”

He moved away from her soaking underwear. “No, tell me.”

She shut her eyes, knowing how stubborn he was, and that didn’t change even in the bedroom. “I did it for you. It’s always for you.”

“All this for lil’ ol’ me?” He teased her loving how shy she got even after what she’d just done to him. “Beginnin’ to think you only want to fuck me.” He bit the waistband of her underwear and she couldn’t take it anymore.

He knew that wasn’t true but he loved to see her roll her eyes.

She whined, “Harry, please.”

“Please what?” He looked up at her. His green eyes were mostly just pupil now.

She tugged his hair, “I need you to do something, please, just help me,”

“Shh, Love, I know.” He took the underwear off and saw the mess between her legs. Another thing he’d be jerking off to later, her inner thighs were soaked and she was dripping. His middle finger slid up the lips collecting the messy slick.

“For me?”

She sighed, with a shiver. “Only you.”

He began to rub her clit at that comment, feeling her throb against him. She was whimpering and moaning softly and it was just how he imagined but even better. Her hands tugged his brown locks and he moved a hand to her mouth. Holding up two fingers, ring and middle, against her lips.

“Suck please.” He said softly. He didn’t think they’d need it considering there was a damp spot underneath her already, he just liked to watch her do it.

When they were wet enough he pulled them back out and slid one inside her dripping hole. She cried out,

“Shit.”

He pumped slowly, letting her grow used to the sting. “Yours are so much bigger than mine.” She whined desperately.

He began to pick up the pace when her hips moved against his hand and slowly added the second finger when he felt she was ready. When she began to squirm from the pleasure he used his other hand to hold her hips flat and he kissed her stomach every now and then.

Offering words of encouragement. “Yes, that’s it, you can take it.”

When she began to grow closer he could tell by the way she clenched around his fingers.

She whimpered when he gave a rough circle on her clit. “Fuck me Harry, feels so good.”

He started to go deeper and harder, feeling her drip onto him. “So perfect like this. Takin' m' fingers.”

He was taking mental pictures so he would never forget her face. All fucked out and filled with pleasure. When he curled his fingers inside her, grazing that spongey spot that made her scream and curl her toes, she moved a hand to his wrist not stopping him just in a warning.

“M’ close, H.”

He smirked. “Cum for me, Baby.” His other hand found her clit and sped up the process. It was seconds later that she felt it come on, a wave washing over her entire body.

“Fuck! I’m coming!” She cried body twitching and squirming wildly as he helped her through it.

“Harry!” She screamed, and he felt her squirt all over his hand as she finished.

Once he finished helping her ride it out he stopped, slowly pulling his hand away and looking up at her. Her eyes were shut and she looked completely ruined. He was happy with that, it meant he’d done his job.

“You okay?”

She opened her eyes. “I didn’t know I could ever feel that good.” She said seriously and he smiled.

“Was m’pleasure, Love.”

When she sat up, she noticed how wet his hand was and the dampness beneath before her eyes widened in embarrassment. “Oh, I’m sorry that’s embarrassing I didn’t mean to—”

“Embarrassing? Please Y/n I nearly came my pants. You’re so fucking hot. Look at you. Delicious.”

She kissed him pulling him close too shy to say anything more.

“Do you want to stay the night?” She asked when she pulled away. He nodded and they, still kind of drunk, made their way to her bed stripping off the rest of their clothes and flopping into bed.

He grabbed her and pulled her into his chest. “Happy New Year, Babe.”

“Happy New year.”

The following morning Y/n woke up alone in her bed. Her head thumped angrily punishing her for last night. She began to wonder if it was all a drunken fever dream but when she got up to wash her face she saw the hickey he’d left her on her neck, and she saw that the bathroom was slightly damp, meaning he’d had a shower before leaving.

She tried not to feel hurt at him leaving without a goodbye but she did remember saying last night that it would be just a one-time thing as friends. She didn’t know what she expected really. She had a quick shower washing the night off, she was sticky and smelt of sex.

When she got out she wandered into her kitchen in just a towel sluggishly, bent over to see the contents of her fridge all she had was off milk and a leftover Chinese takeaway container. She was hungry. She sighed, knowing she’d have to go out and buy food. When she turned she jumped letting out a small shout.

Harry was sitting at the table with some coffee and pastries, he’d scared the shit out of her.

“Jesus! How long were you there?”

“The whole time, waited for you to notice me. I got us some food and coffee, didn’t want to wake you. You looked so peaceful.”

She suddenly felt subconscious in just this small towel, in the daylight. Her eye bags were probably heavy and she doubted she looked pretty. He noticed her squirm.

“I hope you don’t mind that I used your shower.”

She shook her head memories flooding back from last night. She felt embarrassed. “‘Course not.”

“I’m gonna change I’ll be right back.” Before he could say anything else she’d left.

When she came back in a knitted jumper and some red boxer shorts she’d bought for sleep, he smiled up at her. “I got your favourite, well, I hope it’s still your favourite anyway.”

He’d even gone to the effort to put it on a little china plate. It was a custard danish pastry. She smiled butterflies flooding her tummy, she placed her hand there without noticing before she turned to him.

“You didn’t have to do all this, H. I know that it was just a drunken thing we did. You don’t have to be so nice to me. I understand how these things go.”

She remembered the times she’d have to pretend Harry was out when all he’d done is hide in her room until the girls from the night before left their flat.

He looked up, slightly hurt by that. Did she really think that of him? “You’re my oldest friend, I wouldn’t do that.”

She frowned before sitting beside him and grabbing the coffee he’d brought. “Things won’t change, right? We are still Y/n and Harry, aren’t we?”

He placed a hand on her thigh. “Of course, always, bun.”

She smiled up at him taking a bite of her pastry, some custard falling down her chin. Harry got a flash of last night of her moaning his name and he wondered if what he said was true. Would he be able to move on from this?

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