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rebeccccccaaa · 2 months

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Too Sweet

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Spencer Reid x Reader

:: Practically at his beck and call, Spencer knows you’re too sweet for him. He knows he shouldn’t use you but he can’t stop himself when you’re also all too enthusiastic to fuck him ::

warnings :: smutttt, casual sex (kinda lol), oral (fem receiving), over stimulation, insomnia!spencer, spencer spitting facts (literally), reader is described to have hair length long enough to stick to your cheeks, obviously reader is described as afab, not sure what else i should tag so let me know what i miss :)

author’s notes :: hello, hello! honestly i saw this tik tok edit of spencer with this song (Too Sweet - Hozier) and felt a bit inspired by it and also loosely by lyrics too. please be kind as it’s been a couple years since i last wrote a fic and it’s my first one about dr reid too, so let me know if you guys like it, comment, reblog, all that jazz and critiques are more than welcome! Enjoy!

WC :: ~4k

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It was pretty late into the night, it was the first weekend in weeks that the team was able to really enjoy. Spencer sat in a corner of his apartment, a glass of whiskey sat on the table as he flipped the pages of a book he’s read a thousand times before, albeit it was one of favorites.

He was hesitant to call, he didn’t want to pull you away from enjoying your weekend but when it came to his pleasure, he put himself first. You were always too nice to say no to him and he knew that. It made him feel sleazy sometimes, but this was who he was now. Rugged, damaged, fucked up. He’d been through a lot. But in those moments where you squirmed and whined beneath him, he felt satiated. You were his drug now.

“Hello?” he mumbled when the call picked up.

“Spencer,” your voice was a whisper as you practically sang his name.

“You’re awake,” he said.

“Yes,” you responded.

“It’s a little late don’t you think?” he poked.

“Then why are you calling?”

You knew why he was calling. He only ever wanted one thing from you when the sky was dark. You didn’t mind it though. You basked in it. You kind of liked it. The feeling of having sex without commitment. Your job didn’t give you enough time for a commitment. You didn’t feel humiliated or belittled by Spencer’s desires. In fact, his lust for you turned you on in most cases. Most.

Spencer was still a good friend to you. Regardless of sleeping with him, he was your closest friend. And recently, you noticed changes in him. Maybe you’ve kept a closer eye on him more than before but you were a little concerned. You had the right after everything he’s been through. He seemed more tired than usual, even though he was still punctual with work. Although you didn’t sleep in his bed after every time you slept together, when you did, you pretended not to notice his exits and long absences in between the long hours of the night. You could barely hear his ever so quiet footsteps roaming the living room. The clanking of coffee mugs in the kitchen and his quiet ‘Shit’ when he thought he was being too loud.

Three subtle knocks rapped his door, so quiet Spencer would’ve missed if he had breathed just a bit louder. A grin spread across his face subconsciously, glancing at the clock before taking long strides to the door. It was almost midnight. You stood in the doorway with heavy eyes, not the drunk kind, but the tired kind. He moved aside to let you in. Just like last time; and all the other times you showed up at his door for him.

“I thought you went out tonight,” he questioned, rhetorically.

“I did. For a bit,” you told him, “I just had one drink, then went home.”

“What are you doing up so late?” you asked, you already know the answer. And Spencer knows you know too, though he tried at first to be more subtle in his nightly fixtures. He simply sighed with amusement. You set your things down on his couch, eyes adjusting to the dim lights that hardly lit the room. The glass sitting on the table in the corner caught your eyes though.

“What are you drinking?” you asked.

“Uh, whiskey. Neat.”

“Ew, why?” you joked.

“It’s not that bad,” he shrugged. A whiskey wouldn’t exactly be Spencer’s first choice of drink but then again his first choice of drink wouldn’t even be alcohol. If it was, he would probably be content with a beer, or something of the sort. He was sort of going through a phase during nights. He was sleeping a lot less too.

“I just didn’t take you for a whiskey kind of guy,” you teased.

“What kind of guy did you take me for?” he poked; he wasn’t really talking about drinks anymore though.

“Water,” you joked, making him laugh.

Spencer stood before you now. His hands were slightly hesitant this time to rest on your hips.

“Is everything ok, Spencer?” you asked him.

“Yes,” his voice was a whisper.

You didn’t believe him, but you knew better than to press him. He was a stubborn guy and whether you did or didn’t you weren’t going to get an answer. You slid your hands up his chest before cupping the back of his neck with your hands. The kiss was chaste. You didn’t want to sleep with him if he was having second thoughts.

“Are you sure? If you’ve changed your mind I can head hom-,” you were telling him.

“No, don’t,” he rushed out.

“I’m fine; I just haven’t been sleeping well,” he confessed. This surprised you, not because you didn’t know, but because you didn’t think he would tell you.

“Well, then maybe I should go. That way you can finally get to bed before the sun comes up for once,” you joked with him, “Besides, you’re the one who's always telling people how important sleep is to the human body.”

Your words shocked Spencer this time. Admittedly, in the back of mind he suspected that you could sense him leaving his bed, or your bed sometimes, and that one or more times he’d been a little loud dwindling in the next room. But he didn’t realize you were fully aware of his nightly escapades. You knew him too well. You were too sweet to him. Spencer knew after all the fucked up things he’s been through he didn’t deserve your friendship; or anything more despite the fact.

“Did you know that elephants sleep the least of any other animal?” he told you, he doesn’t know why. Maybe to distract you, or seduce you. Both outcomes came often enough for him to make it a guessing game.

“You’re not an elephant.”

And then there were the ultra rare times when neither outcome happened; just now being one of them.

“Sleep deprivation has been associated with reduced sexual desire and arousal,” he tried again.

“Well, I can help with that,” you teased. There we go.

He leaned down to kiss your lips but you pulled back in tease, smile on your face; you knew how pussywhipped you had this man. He didn’t want to fight it, he was growing desperate for you with every passing second. Rolling his eyes, he dipped his head in the crook of your neck. His hands left your hips, pulling you closer to him from your waist and lower back. Your hands began to unbutton his shirt, he was still wearing the clothes you saw him working in earlier that day.

You stopped him, never been one to have sex anywhere other than the bedroom, taking his hand already knowing where to go after doing so many times before already. Although, it wasn’t like his apartment was a confusing labyrinth. He followed you like always.

You reached the edge of the bed, sitting instinctively. Your hand went straight to his belt, undoing it with ease. Spencer pulled your hands away from his hips before sinking to his knees to the ground. He pulled your hips to the very edge, scratching the skin as he desperately pulled at your pants bringing them down your legs. Of course you let him.

He pushed you back and you fell on your elbows, still able to see him so clearly. See him dip his head and kiss the skin on the inside of your knee, his eyes lingering on yours. You let your head go for a second, basking in the feeling of his lips. They always made you feel so warm and tingly. One thing about Spencer, he loved foreplay. All the little things that lead up to sex. Most of the time, he craved the foreplay more than the sex itself.

He moved your legs over his shoulders, his arms wrapping around your thighs, his hands holding your hips. His nose ran along your inner thighs. Your skin erupted in goosebumps at the feeling of his warm breath coming from his nose. His fingers fiddled against your hip bones and you wiggled a bit becoming desperate by the minute for something more than just this teasing.

“Spence,” you whined, looking back at him.

“It doesn’t matter how many times we do this, you’ll never learn patience will you?” Spencer bartered.

“Spencer, I don’t come to you to learn patience,” you spat, not with any malice however.

“You won’t come at all with that attitude,” he snapped back, hiding a grin between your legs.

“Spencer!” you gasped.

He chuckled lowly, bringing his hand between your thighs, pulling your underwear to the side to expose you to him. You were glistening, slick beginning to leak from you already. Spencer could feel himself getting hard. He precariously tried to not buck his hips into the bed like horny teenager.

“Fuck,” he whispered under his breath.

He stepped up quickly letting your legs drop harshly. His fingers curled over the hem of your underwear pulling them down and tossing behind his shoulder before returning to his previous position. He felt like he was possessed. Acting and moving like it was primal, instinctive. He wanted nothing more in this moment than to satisfy you.

He kissed all the places except the place you needed the most. You curled your toes anticipating his next move, longing for his lips, tongue, fingers, anything to bring you pleasure. Just when you were about to sit up, ready to nag at him, his lips wrapped around your bud.

Your shoulders gave out at the feeling. Your body electrifying instantaneously. Your eyes trained on the ceiling, focusing on everything about Spencer in this moment, the sounds, his touch, his tongue. His tongue dipping in you every now and then, making you moan feverishly. His hands spread out, pinning your hips down to the bed to try and get you to stop wiggling your hips, but he wasn’t too successful in that.

“Knock it off,” he groaned, removing a hand wrapped around your leg to bring his fingers to your entrance.

“It’s not enough; I need more,” you whined.

“No, you want more,” he debuted, “You’re being greedy.”

“And you’re being mean,” you quipped, you always had something to retort.

“Ok, fine,” he stood up.

“Stop!” you whined, “Please, come back. Do whatever you want.”

“I will,” he sat on his knees again, instantly bringing his fingers up to rub slow circles that made your toes curl.

He purposefully let them every now and then prod at your entrance make your hips jerk in surprise. He could see how wet you were, all of the slick telling him how needy you were. He looked up to look at your face. His eyes catching your nipples peeking through the fabric of your shirt from the pleasure already, smiling to himself.

“Sexual arousal can cause an increase in blood flow to not just female genitalia, but also the breasts,” he told you, feeling your thighs squeeze ever so slightly.

“Is that your way of telling me my nipples are hard because of you?” you teased.

“Yes,” he stated before diving straight back between your thighs.

His tongue did circles like his fingers, the wetness and warmth much more stimulating than before. His fingers slid inside you, curling when he couldn’t push them any further. You moaned out, reaching your hand down to comb your fingers through Spencer’s shaggy hair. The noises of everything bounced off the walls of Spencer’s shallow bedroom. It sounded vulgar but so sexy. Your heavy breathing practically syncing together.

Your thighs squeezed more and more as you got closer to your climax; you didn’t care if you were suffocating Spencer. If he died, he died pleasuring you and neither of you minded it in this moment. Your hips grinding against his tongue chasing you release frantically. Spencer pumped his fingers in and out of you rapidly, leading you to ecstasy.

Your breaths became shaking, as did your moans. You were overcome with pleasure as your orgasm hit you so suddenly. You could feel Spencer’s smile growing against you, you knew that he wasn’t going to withdraw despite reaching your climax.

“Oh god, too much, Spence.”

“First it was not enough, now it’s too much?” he taunted you, fingers still pumping in and out you strenuously.

“Spence!” you wailed, your voice trembling embarrassingly.

When he wouldn’t give out, you pulled at his hair as you sat up and pulled his mouth away from between your thighs.

“Oh ow, ow, ow!” he whined.

“Jesus, you were gonna give me a heartache,” you whined.

“Actually the possibility of having a heart attack during sexual activity is exceedingly low. So you wouldn’t have had anything to worry about; if anything you would get a small headache,” he explained.

“You’re giving me a headache,” you whined, making him laugh.

You pulled him from the back of his neck, crashing his lips against yours. You loved to kiss Spencer. You always felt the closest to him physically when you kissed. Which is ironic since he was quite literally inside you most nights. Kissing, the art of kissing, was practically your love language. You always gave small pecks when you were together, privately of course.

Spencer was worried at first, that kissing was too intimate that things would complicate fast and feelings would get hurt. But as time went on and things continued to stay normal between you, he just began to relish in it rather than worry about nothing. At least that’s what he’s convinced himself of.

He suddenly remembered the first time you slept together. You were in his apartment one night going over some details of the case. Nothing so major, or frightening, but something wasn’t adding up. You decided to take a break, cracking open some beers and just talk. One beer became two, then three, then four and then suddenly bottles littered the pitiful coffee table in front of you. You were very clear with him, “I don’t just sleep with anybody.” But you were a woman with needs just as much as Spencer was a man, “Neither do I.”

“Things have to stay the way they are if we do this,” he told you that night.

“They will,” you assured him.

You rested your forehead against his seeing his eyes seem different. Spencer always did this. Everytime, just for a minute or even a second, he would disappear behind his eyes, like he was reminiscing on a memory you couldn’t describe.

“You did that thing again,” you said with a small grin on your face.

“I know,” he blushed, “Sorry.”

“You ever gonna tell me what you’re thinking about when you do that?” you questioned.

“Nope,” he smirked, making you giggle.

Spencer stood straight up shagging his shirt off before scrambling out of his pants. He crawled back over you settling his hips between your thighs as he dipped his head down to attach his lips to your neck. Your hand curled around his neck, sliding your fingers through his hair as his breath and lips tickled your skin. Your hips fit together snuggly, grinding against desperate to chase each other’s highs.

Spencer reached into the drawer beside your head to pull out a condom. You snatched it from his hands with a devilish smirk on your face tearing it with your teeth. You spat the foil corner from your mouth, pulling the condom from its package before tossing it aside. You reached between your bodies stroking Spencer. His face blushing red, contorting with pleasure as it’s the first of the night to feel some sort of friction he needed from the beginning. The reason he called you in the first place.

Spencer let his hands trace your skin. Though you wouldn’t react, your skin erupted in goosebumps. Feeling him prodding against your entrance, your breath hitched, your heart skipping a beat. You always anticipated this part. No matter how many times you and Spencer spent the night together, you couldn’t ever get used to the flips your stomach made at this time.

Spencer pushed his hips into you, his length stroking your walls making your hum in delight. Spencer’s breath became heavy as he pulled out just enough before rutting back in you with skill. Your face began to feel hot as Spencer began to find a good rhythm. You could feel the sweat building on your forehead, the air cold against your scalp.

You looked at Spencer’s face; the veins bulging from his forehead and his neck. You cupped his cheek with your hand, catching his rhythm with your hips. Your breath became heavy, your hums became moans. Spencer wasn’t exactly the most vocal lover you laid with. Not that Spencer was your lover of course. That‘s not what you meant.

“What’s going on in that pretty little brain?” Spencer’s voice took you from your sudden trance; his pace beginning to slow. He brought his hand to your face, pulling the stray hairs that stuck to your cheeks from your sweat away.

“Nothing, just don’t stop,” you sighed, pulling his lips down to yours again.

Spencer picked up his pace again, the sound of skin slapping echoing in the room. You felt overcome with an ambitious heat throughout your body. You pushed Spencer’s shoulders up trying your best to cool down without stopping your chase to your high. Spencer sat on his knees gripping your hips, practically ramming his hips into yours. Your back arched and you gripped the sheets beneath you.

“Oh god, fuck,” you cried out. Your thighs squeezing Spencer’s torso as you began to get closer to your climax.

“Shit, it’s like I can’t get enough no matter how many times I have you squirming beneath me,” he gloated.

You could see Spencer's chest begin to get red, his knuckles however turning white. Your hands reached down gripping his wrists. Prying them away, before sitting up to straddle his legs, as they stretched forward, adjusting comfortably. You held on to his shoulders sturdily, finding an entirely new rhythm to chase your high.

Spencer’s hands ran up your back, sliding under your shirt that you had yet to take off. No wonder you were overwhelmed with heat. He peeled the tight fabric from your skin, tossing it to the ground like he has so many times before. He unhooked your bra with ease, his eyes instantly trained to your chest. He couldn’t help his hands following, massaging the soft skin. Spencer looked up to you as you bounced up and down. Sweat dripping seductively down the valley of your breasts.

“You’re so pretty,” Spencer whispered, staring up at you.

“I know,” you joked breathlessly, giving him a playful wink.

Spencer let out a breathy laugh at that. The both of you were itching for a release now. Your bodies squirming against one another, aching to give the other the release. You leaned back placing your hands on his thighs, moving your hips faster and harder than before.

“Spencer, I’m getting close, I feel it,” you whimpered, “Please tell me you’re close too.”

“I’m close,” he breathed out.

“Fuck,” you cried.

“Come on, sweetheart. Let go,” Spencer mused, he reached between you two, fingers circling quickly between your thighs to bring you to climax even faster.

You gasped out, chest heaving as you felt the waves of pleasures wash over you suddenly. You couldn’t help the loud moans escaping from you as you threw your head back; arched back and thighs tensed. Spencer’s hand held your body close to himself, and you curled forward wrapping your arms around his head as you climaxed indefinitely. Spencer grunted below you, his legs stiffening and jerking upward. Curses whispered from his lips.

“Oh, shit,” you gasped, relaxing and slumping your body over Spencer.

“Treat me good, like always,” he whispered, his hand coming briefly to stroke your hair gently.

He rolled you over, laying you lazily on his bed before climbing out of the bed swiftly. He stumbled his way to dispose of the rubber. He grabbed a small towel from a drawer along with something to cover himself. He sat silently on the edge of the bed, gently cleaning you as your eyes slowly blinked, telling him you were exhausted.

“You want to stay the night? I can see how tired you are.”

“I’ll be gone first thing in the morning,” you quipped with a small grin on your face.

Spencer laid beside you, covering your body with the blankets. You curled by his side, your leg falling over his hips. He turned the lights out, but the soft golden glow from the lights in the room next door streamed in. His arm wrapped around you, fingers softly stretching your back. Steady breaths against his chest gave him a sense of comfort. He was always a bit jealous how easily sleep came to you; how peaceful you looked when you did. Spencer tried to close his eyes. He tried to let rest wash over him like a blanket. What felt like seconds was an hour. And another hour. He peeked at his watch laying on the nightstand beside him, three o’clock the time read.

Sighing, he sneaked out of bed, careful to not wake you. He skulked towards the kitchen, eyeing the small glass of whiskey still on the table. He couldn’t help smirk to himself over it. He opened the cabinet grabbing a mug, pouring a bitter liquid into it. He took a big swig of his favorite beverage, basking in all the flavors, when suddenly a beautiful figure stood before him.

“Hey,” his voice was quiet.

“I’m guessing you haven’t slept,” you tiptoed your way to him, you could hear him sighing.

“Is there anything at all I can do to help you?” you whispered, carefully placing your hand on Spencer’s warm back.

“No, but having you here is enough.”

You were beginning to blur the lines between your arrangement and your friendship. But neither you nor Spencer could muster up the courage to stop what you’ve started. Spencer indulged in your sweetness, the way you were always there to satiate his desires, the way you opened yourself to him like heaven’s gate. And you, well you would never admit it. Being in love with Spencer that is. You’ve known him for years; seen the best parts of him and helped him through the worst. You knew him the best of anyone you’ve known before. And he could say the same too. He’s never opened up to anyone as much as he has to you.

You were perfect for each other. And yet, Spencer wouldn’t allow himself to bask in it. He truly believed he didn’t deserve you. That all the demons that haunted him in these dark hours were undeserving of your kindness, compassion, gentleness. Simply thinking about you was often enough to calm him in tense situations. But he would never tell you this. So here he was, standing in the kitchen with his coffee black at three in the morning wondering why you couldn’t see that he would never be enough for you.

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asapeveryday · 28 days

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SHOCK FACTOR ★彡PART 5

Prev. Next.

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Rival!Reader

Warnings: swearing

Summary: a lot of media attention and some solo time isn’t enough to keep paige away from you.

A/n: one more chap after this then we done 😛

YOU WAKE UP with a pounding headache, not as engulfing as last night but still enough to induce a groan as you lift your head from your pillow.

The hotel-white pillowcase is smeared with residual makeup and your hair feels tangled and unruly. It was surprising how well you slept, seeing as multiple things had happened the night before that should’ve kept you up till morning. You look around to see the hotel room is empty, then check your phone for the time. It’s 1:34pm, you’ve slept into the afternoon.

Your phone is absolutely filled with notifications.

JUJU-KINS😘

U up?

Coach is lit tweaking rn

U bouta be getting media trained FOR LIFE

ELAINEY 🤞

hey

can we talk pls?

ur only in town for a couple more days

it’s not as bad as it seems i swear

i was drunk

COACH

Call me when you see this message.

I hope you already know what you’ve done wrong so I don’t have to waste my time.

You’re smarter than this!

Collapsing on your bed again, you bury yourself in the sheets. Being in Connecticut had just turned out to be a nightmare, you’ve barely interacted with your teammates, your friendship with Elaine was ruined, you’ve had the most confusing relationship with Paige and you’ve made a fool of yourself online.

You shoot a quick text to Juju as well as some other teammates who’ve checked up on you, being sure to ignore Elaine’s texts. You find yourself re-reading your messages with Paige, thankfully your drunk brain hadn’t texted anything too out of pocket, and though you clearly remember her typing after your last message she hadn’t responded since then.

Your call with Coach was the most dreaded of all, you truly respected and feared her, so sitting through an almost half-hour phone call about your responsibilities, failures, expectations and repercussions was awful.

In short, you were to be off of social media until back in state, live privileges were fully revoked, if you were to be found partying and clubbing you’d be in massive trouble, you had to issue a statement on Instagram and twitter (which was pre-written by some professional), and the next practice you participate in will be the worst practice you’ve ever experienced in the history of bad practices. Most probably an insane amount of sprints.

You release your statements on Instagram and Twitter, but before deleting the apps you check out Paige’s comments. She’d obviously received a similar order. Her Instagram story consisted of a black screen and a small box of text, simply entailing how spreading love and positivity while uplifting other players is an obligation she intends to follow from this point onwards.

Her twitter had two new tweets:

paigebueckers1 : Me and (Name) have had some truly special experiences in college basketball. She’s an amazing player who is only gonna go higher and get better as she grows. When I was a junior I was stuck in crutches hoping for the chance I have now. (Name) as a junior herself is absolutely killing it on the court and I for one will always be rooting for her, competitive comments online or not. Keep doin what you’re doin @yourusername !

paigebueckers1 : God is good! 🙏

Turning your phone off, the only thing you’re thinking is ‘you’re so full of shit.’

You wonder if she wrote that herself or if somebody wrote it for her and made it seem like it was her own typing. Regardless, it didn’t matter anymore. You’d had your experience with the Big East Champion, and it was enough for a lifetime.

The amount of content coming out regarding you and Paige was insanely overwhelming. Debates online regarding your skills, looks, personality and basically anything the public can grasp were rampant. You and Paige had been a bit of a scandal ever since she shaded you on that panel, and the media had been seriously following you two back and forth between the seemingly friendly interactions and more hostile ones.

Eventually you stumble upon something different. A video of you and Paige in the background of KK and Ice’s live that day in the coffee shop. You can see yourself fumbling with napkins, and Paige approaching. It’s almost entrancing to see everything play out from another perspective, to see how her face eases into a smile at your smartass comments, to relive your own amused emotion at her stare, to watch Paige speedily write her number on a napkin before the camera shifts and the live ends.

You’re unsure how to react to all of this. No matter how close or far you could get with Paige, would it ever amount to anything? To the slightest bit of trust? Her lips were almost on yours that evening in the street, but just an hour earlier she had lied to your face about knowing Elaine.

You recall what Elaine drunkenly spat out during your argument outside the bar.

“N’ I’ll tell you what. She’s going to play your ass and you’re never gonna get over it, cus that’s what she does.”

Was this spoken out of experience, or a mixture of jealousy and intoxication? Had Elaine once been that girl on the street, inches away?

You can’t help but think it wasn’t the case. Paige bit her tongue around you to stifle a laugh or to hold back a rebuttal to your teasing. When it came to Elaine, Paige bit her tongue in a different way. A loathing way. You couldn’t explain it.

Plus, Elaine had said herself that you were not Paige’s usual type. If she meant you and her were not alike, that was the truth. You and Paige had more of a history, more similar lifestyles and experiences, more. At least you assumed so.

Finally, you decide you’ve done enough thinking for the day. It was time to line up some plans, maybe meet up with the team for a couple hours and then hoop solo in the evening. Anything to distract from the situation.

The sound of a basketball against the blacktop, the hollow bounce that always found itself back to your hand. It’s sustenance to you, it’s breathing.

Storrs had been blessed with a hotter Sunday then usual, even in your shorts and t-shirt you were sweating, shooting hoops the same way you’ve been doing since you were a child.

The court was empty and outdoors, perfect for you to hold the ball for a moment and admire the scenery, the changing colours of the sky as afternoon fades to evening.

You hear the bounce of a ball again, but yours is secured in your hand.

“Hey.”

You’re not surprised to see her. The sink in your stomach as you meet her eyes in almost predictable.

“What are the chances.” You scoff. “Don’t you have like, the entire UConn gym to hoop?”

“I come to this court all the time.” Paige narrows her eyes. “It’s usually peaceful.”

“I figured.” You say curtly, turning your head to see the setting sun. It was very peaceful, even with the impending silence between you and the blonde.

“How drunk were you last night?” Paige asks.

You spin around to give her a look. “Drunk enough to get on live,” You scoff. “but sober enough to read a text and send it without regrets.”

At the mention of your short conversation with Paige over text, you can see her cringe. She obviously hadn’t been expecting you to find out about her relationship with your friend, let alone be so upfront with it.

“I never fucked her in my car…just so you know.” She finally manages to breath out.

You almost bark out a laugh at this. “You think I’m mad cus you fucked her?” You ask, walking towards Paige and lightly dribbling the ball. She simply stares at you, mouth slightly agape.

“Are you not?”

“Is the blonde fucking seeping into your head?” You snap, mentally celebrating as her lips forms a straight line. “If you don’t know, you better figure it out.”

Paige brings a hand to her face, rubbing her forehead as if it’s aching. Her eyes are wide and analyzing you, thinking of the best way to respond.

“Go on,” you tease her. “tell me why I’m mad.”

You’re close to her now, too close for comfort. You can see her smile lines, her plush lips, her silver chain glinting beneath the black long sleeve she’s wearing. The sleeves are rolled up, and you can’t help but noticed how veiny her arms are, how her long fingers are holding the basketball against her body.

Biting her lip, Paige finally responds. “You’re mad because I lied.”

“Smart girl.” You scoff, almost choking on your breath when her jaw clenches at your comment. “I’m mad cus you lied to my face. And cus you went on live and shit talked me again for no reason.”

You and her stare at each other for a long moment before she breaks a smile. “That was my bad.” She murmurs. “I was uh, Ion’ know. I was in sum kinda mood.”

“The mood to lie?” You raise your eyebrow. “Or the mood to be a bitch?”

“Don’t call me a bitch.” She scowls, and you’re reminded of the last time you called her that, at the end of your game against UConn.

“That’s what you are, Bueckers.” You say with a smile, eyeing her down and getting in her face just a little more. “Bitches lie, bitches make problems out of nothing.”

Her eye is fiercely trained on you, on the way your lips move as you degrade her. You can’t tell what she’s thinking in the slightest.

“(Name), I’m sorry.” She says softly.

Once again you two are staring in silence. The proximity is intoxicating, you can practically smell her clean clothes.

“Are you still fucking Elaine?”

“Hell no.” Paige shakes her head furiously. “That ended a while ago. We haven’t talked in like months.”

“She still has your location.” You grumble. “That’s how she knew I was with you at the restaurant.”

“Shit.” Paige groans, immediately pulling out her phone. “She interrupted us on purpose then? Psycho.”

You watch as she turns off her location for Elaine and blocks her before slipping her phone back in her pocket.

“We didn’t hookup for long.” Paige says, obviously feeling the need to explain herself. “Jus a couple times. I broke things off, she couldn’t accept how busy my schedule was.”

You shrug, not knowing what to say.

“Guess she couldn’t accept you and me either, huh?” Paige smirks, shooting you a ‘forgive me’ type look.

Ignoring the swell in your heart at the stupid comment, you just chuckle and shake your head.

“Do you wanna 1v1?” She asks almost sheepishly.

You think for a moment.

“You sure I’m on your level?”

Paige looks embarrassed for a moment, remembering what she said on her live. “Quit playin.” She rolls her eyes. “C’mon, show me what you got.”

You’d be lying if you were to say you knew the score.

Was she taking score? You and Paige were equally insanely competitive, but this wasn’t a true test of skill. This was a test of endurance. A test to see who would break first.

You knew this when her hand grazed your waist as she darted past you to the other end of the court, or when she stared you down, tongue between her lips as she blocked your shot. You retaliated yourself, letting your hand linger a bit too long as you helped her up from the ground after tripping her up, or whistling at her as she makes another three.

The heavy breathing, the piercing stares, the cold air as the sun disappeared. You were in a zone you’d never been in before, somehow equally focused on the game and the girl.

You manage to steal the ball from Paige in a swift moment, but suddenly she’s in front of you again. Her hands dart for the ball, attempting to smack it out of your hand. She almost manages to steal it back, but your grip tightens just at the right moment.

She’s stuck to you, her hands attempting to pry the ball out of your own. You can hear her breath, you can see the beaded sweat on her forehead, you can feel her blue eyes watching you, watching your chest widen and shrink with every inhale and exhale, watching your lips.

It’s a replay of the college game that started all of this.

You struggle for a moment longer before the tousle is not longer controlled, the ball slips between both of your sweaty hands. You and Paige both scramble to save it, but it bounces out of your grasps and away from the court.

Neither of you chase after it.

She’s still up close to you, face flushed from the game.

“What was the score?” She huffs, out of breath. Paige’s voice is raspy and tired. You feel something spark inside of you.

“No clue.”

Paige’s face breaks into a small smirk as her hands find your waist, uncertain and soft, just barely ghosting your frame. “That was my ball.”

“Shut up.” You mumble, your heart hammering at the feeling of her eyes exploring every part of you, lingering on your lips before she finally leans in.

Paige’s lips are rough against yours, but fit perfectly as if moulded for your own. She melts into you, her hands finally tightening around your body, her face tilting just right so she can finally taste you. It’s something you didn’t know you’d been waiting for. She kisses with a million emotions, with urgency, passion and the slightest bit of control. It’s electrical.

When you need to break the kiss to breath, you simply tug on her ponytail. You were not expecting the slight whimper as your lips part.

“M’ not done.” She mutters against you, catching her breath.

“I want you, P.” You whisper, looking up at her. Paige’s face immediately changes at this, lips tilting upward in an annoyingly charismatic way.

“I know you do, baby.” She murmurs. “Let me take you home.”

#fanfiction #fanfic #paige bueckers #uconn wbb #paige bueckers x reader #paige buckets #rpf #rivals to lovers #paige x reader #uconn women’s basketball #f/f #series

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leonfucker3000 · 1 month

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under the mistletoe

married!Leon S Kennedy x engaged!fem!reader

Warnings: 16+, cheating, sex with feelings, vaginal sex, oral sex (f receiving),bathroom sex, mirror sex, modern au but not really because I know their dumbasses don’t have enough friends for a Christmas party, reader has morals until she doesn’t

wc: 2.5k

Yap: I wrote this last year for smutmas LMFAO, posting it here so I’m not forgotten, IM WORKING ON STUFF I SWEAR !! The ending is rushed and bad, and Leon says some corny fucking shit

not proofread, sorry chat

Arm-in-arm with Chris, you make your way up the snowy steps of the brown-bricked house. From the front patio, you could hear the faint sounds of Christmas music and bottles popping.

“I thought you said this was gonna be small.” a faint murmur comes from your lips, disappointment clear in your face from the lie your fiancé told you to get you here. You told him before you weren’t interested in anything noisy or busy or crowded , even told him to visit his friends alone and that you’d be fine waiting for him to get back.

“That’s what they told me too, we can head back—”

“It’s fine. Not gonna keep you from your friends.” Just don’t expect me to be social, you want to add on, but don’t due to the small smile on his face. He’s sweet. Ignorant, but sweet. In his own way, you suppose.

You’re hit with overpowering peppermint and alcohol scent when you walk through the door, christmas spirit aside, the inside looks nice. Warm, inviting, homey, where you should be with Chris but he’s – he presses a kiss to your forehead, muttering a small I’ll be back as he goes to find his buddies – gone.

A price to pay for future happiness.

⋆⋅•⋅⊰∙∘⋆ ❆ ⋆∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⋆

You try to distract yourself, pleasantries to mutual friends and others you definitely (do not) remember. If you had more sleep the night before, maybe you’d be up for drinks and dancing and actual conversation rather than this. Whatever this is. “Don’t look too happy to be here either.” A gruff voice from behind you snaps you out of your trance.

“Weren’t you the one that invited us, Leon?” You click your tongue as you turn around to face him, he looks tired but prettily so. Fucker.

He huffs out a laugh and shakes his head, “Not one for these, thought you knew me better. Just thought that I’d enjoy it more with people…” he looks you up and down for a fleeting moment, “...like me.”

“Like you in what sense? Alcoholic or asshole?”

“Both, either, neither. Just wanted to see some friends, that’s all.”

You hum and motion with your head, “Chris is over there. Not here.”

“I know.”

The both of you are silent, no matter what you say, you’re sure Leon has a counter. A quip, a joke, something that’s definitely going to get the both of you in trouble. “Guess we’re going with Alcoholic You, then. Drinks?”

“And you say we’re not friends. Let’s go.” He says with a hand sliding to the small of your back, resting right above your ass – too close, too risky for a married man and an engaged woman, too stupid. You bite your tongue and let him lead you to the host’s makeshift bar, saying anything is a reaction and a reaction is what he wants, at least you assume so.

“We’re not. You know this, I know this, maybe even God if we dig deep enough.”

“Okay, well, it’s not that deep so let’s just have a nice night as friends, yeah?”

A sigh leaves you for the nth time that night, “Sure.”

Moving through the seemingly never-ending crowd of drunk couples, you’re soon to realize your mistake of keeping quiet when he stops and looks up, then back at you. Eyebrows furrowed and mood shifted, you follow his eyes up and – “Absolutely not.” a fucking mistletoe. You saw other people under the mistletoe who were most definitely in committed relationships kiss others but that’s not you . You thought it wasn’t him either from the way he looked at Ada. Another terrible assumption.

Leon scoffs and rolls his eyes, “It’s tradition. ‘S just a kiss, doesn’t need to mean anything.”

“It wouldn’t mean anything if we were both single, but we’re very much fucking not, so–”

“No one’s looking, just us. Chris won’t mind, Ada…won’t either.” A weak excuse, both the mistletoe and his pathetic they don’t need to know . “Friends kiss.”

“Right, you mean unmarried ones. On the cheek. Platonically.”

“Will you just–” He groans as he cups your face in his hands and pulls you to meet his lips, sloppily and messily kissing you and licking the seam of your lips. You stumble and he pushes you against the kitchen archway, guests too unbothered to realize what’s going on in front of them. For a moment, you kiss back, hands tugging on his hair – girlfriend, fiancée, wife – you pull away with a sharp gasp, heavy worry and guilt.

Now you really need that fucking drink.

You blink up at him, “Wish I could’ve done more.” He speaks, fighting himself for being weak but also not regretting a thing because it’s you and he definitely wants you. “Looking real pretty tonight and Chris is an idiot for leaving his soon-to-be-wife alone. So really, this is his fault.”

“You’re fucking crazy.”

“For you.”

You hate him for going against your wishes, hate him for making a joke about it, hate the fact that despite everything, you liked it . Whore, Slut, Hoe, all of the above and definitely not the loyal fiancée you promised you’d be. “This can’t–can’t happen again.”

“Right.” He whispers, soft and hushed, had you not known any better, you might’ve thought he was sorry.

You turn to leave and avoid him for the rest of the night, suddenly feeling confident enough to be social after all to get your mind off what the fuck just happened. But nothing works. Not drinks or jokes or even Chris himself. Ironically, he points out the mistletoe and drags you under it to kiss you.

It’s firm, possessive and used to make you feel giddy but all you feel right now is unadulterated shame. All that’s swirling through your mind isn’t the loops of red and green christmas streamers and tinsel – it’s Leon. You two didn’t even talk much, don’t know how you caught his eye or why he’d want you when he has a pretty wife of 2 years with him.

You pull away and Chris gives you another quick peck, “Know you don’t like stuff like this, I appreciate it, really.” he whispers, and you feel like a bitch again. He’s so – he’s too good for you. “When we get back, ‘ll make sure to make it up to you.”

You smile, all weary and shy, too bad while he’s fucking you, you’ll be imagining someone else. “Can’t wait.” Before you can even be pulled away by Chris again, a hand slides up your back and another on Chris’ shoulder.

Fuck fuck fuck. Someone saw you and is going to tell Chris. Say goodbye to stability and long-lasted love and–

“Get a room, will you?” Leon says as he pats Chris’ shoulder, a little more forceful than needed, but if Chris noticed, he didn’t let it show. “Had Ada rolling her eyes at the two of you more than usual. A new record.”

You force a tight smile while Chris is at ease, “Of course you two have the most shit to say.” he chuckles.

“Mhm, yeah, so, mind if I borrow you for a minute?” Leon’s hand falls from Chris’ shoulder as he looks at you.

“Um.” Chris was a patient man, really was, but if you’re uncomfortable, he’s uncomfortable, and right now–

“Sure, just make it quick.” You mutter, glancing at Chris with a nervous smile, “I’ll be back.”

⋆⋅•⋅⊰∙∘⋆ ❆ ⋆∘∙⊱⋅•⋅⋆

How you ended up in a half-bathroom with Leon, perched up onto the sink counter with your legs wrapped around his waist will always be beyond you. He kissed you like he did before, almost holding no rhythm as he did it like it’d be the last time. “Fucking–” he groaned, “beautiful.” He pulled away briefly to press wet, open-mouthed kisses down your neck and shoulder. “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted to do this.”

“Shouldn’t be admitting that, it's– oh –not okay.” It’s definitely not okay that you’re here with him, and it’s definitely not okay that him biting you is enough to make you shudder. How the fuck are you going to explain this to Chris? Leon bit me to test out my skin durability?

“I know, just can’t help it when it’s you. Sweet girl, always on my mind.” He tried, really did. Tried being happy when Chris introduced you, tried ignoring how sweet you looked, tried ignoring you and the image of eating you out that kept him warm on many lonely nights. Couldn’t even do it with Ada without your face popping up in his head when he came. “Would ask if you thought of me, too, but I guess we both know the answer to that.”

He knew, knew that as much as he wanted you, up until now it was Chris. The hopeful part of him convinces himself you just buried it deep down like him and that’s why he can finally be between your pretty legs, pressed up against your pretty body and soon enough, pretty pussy. You make him feel dizzy.

“Leon–”

“Yeah, just keep sayin’ my name and that’ll make it better.” He kisses you for good measure, thinks that if you say anything other than his name or oh god, he’ll lose it. You tug on his hair again and he groans, “Let me eat you out, needa give that pretty pussy just as much kisses.”

He doesn’t give you time to retaliate or even think about what he said before pushing your dress up and dropping to his knees, kissing up your thighs and removing your panties. He makes sure to put your legs over his shoulders, tongue delving right onto your pussy. Your fingers latch onto his hair and he gives you a muffled groan.

Your plush thighs push against his face and, fuck, it’s better than anything he’s ever had, he won’t need alcohol after this because you’re just as addicting, if not more, as he drinks in your pussy like he’s parched. “ Fuckk ,” he groans into you, all muffled and slurred “ tastes so fucking good.”

Your legs are shaking and thank-fucking-god you’re sitting on the sink counter, music blasts from outside as you pant and moan while his tongue flicks with fucking talent. His mouth makes you feel dizzy, even more so when he plunges two fingers inside your cunt, his eyebrows furrow when you pull particularly hard – heaven is what he thinks.

He concentrates his lips and tongue on your clit as you rock against his face, “ Leon,” you gasp, nearly crying out above him and yes, his imagination didn’t do you any justice because his name falling from your lips is a wet dream.

He taps your thigh, voice all hoarse and strained, “Gotta keep quiet, can’t have them seeing you like this – this is for me .” He’s so hard it hurts but he’ll endure anything just so you’ll come on his fingers and tongue.

You whine, biting your lip to keep in your sounds and he feels your body trembling , the pressure of his tongue was insistent and your body twitched when his fingers aligned with the rhythm of his tongue, “oh fuck, oh fuckfuckfuck,’ you cover your mouth as you let out a muffled cry, legs wrapping around his head so tight he can barely breathe but holy shit does he not care.

You come, blissed out and shaking – he thinks you’re pretty. He’s an idiot for this, he really doesn’t care.

He presses a small kiss to your thigh, getting up off his knees as his thumb rubs small circles on your skin, “You okay?” he whispers, mouth sore and dick straining against his pants makes his voice low.

“Mmhmm,” you reply dumbly and slurred, “never better.”

He feels pride swell up in his chest when you say that, he made you feel good – better than Chris keeps replaying in his mind. “Not done with you yet, can you stand?”

“Maybe in 5 minutes.” He doesn’t have 5 minutes, you don't have 5 minutes – he needs it now. He helps you off the counter and pushes you forward, bending you over the sink. You faintly hear the sound of fabric and metal before feeling him slide between your folds and nudge against your entrance. “Leon–”

“Need it, honey. Gonna give it to me, yeah?”

Fuck it, you’ve made it this far. “Yeah.” you say breathlessly.

You can’t mutter out another word when he doesn’t wait a second more to slide into you, his nails dimpling spots on your hips when he grips tighter. You cry out when he pulls out and shoves himself to the hilt, his left hand covering your mouth, “ Quiet.” he hisses, groaning when he snaps his hips again, not stopping until his rhythm is relentless.

Whines and moans are faded against his hand, he’s panting and groaning against your ear, “Feels –fuckk – so much fucking better than I imagined.” he pulls his hand and your head back a little so you’re looking in the mirror. Fuck explaining a bite mark to Chris – you’re a mess. Sweat dripping from your forehead and eyes glossy as you look blissed out and absolutely fucked . “See that?” he shudders, “That’s us, you don’t take your fucking eyes off it.”

You nod quickly against his hand as the room fills with the sound of skin against skin and choked back moans and panting. Your eyelids feel heavy as you look in the mirror, Leon’s face is flushed and his hair is wet with sweat as he fucks you like it’s the last thing he’ll ever do.

He watches your face as you take all of him, all pretty and teary-eyed, you’ve ruined him for everyone else. “I'm gonna come again,” your voice is faint against his hand, barely able to even get out any words because he has you teetering on the edge as his balls slap against your clit. You feel yourself tightening around his cock and his hips stutter.

“Shit–that right?” You nod eagerly as you keep your eyes on him, “atta girl, ‘m gonna get at least 3 out of you.”

“I c’nt–”

“Yes you can,” he slurs, “for me, you fucking can.”

Your walls clamp down on him hard, spasming from your second orgasm, and he moans. He bites his lip as he pulls out, warm come spurting on your ass as he holds onto the counter in front of you for balance, chest pressed against your back. ‘ Fuck. ” he moans.

Your eyelids flutter when he licks his lips and presses a small kiss onto your shoulder. “Jesus Christ, leon. I dunno if I can…do another.” you pant.

“Don’t have a choice, honey, just need you ontop of me.”

You open your mouth to speak but a sharp knock hits against the bathroom door, “Can you hurry the fuck up? I gotta piss n – oh okay.” footsteps retreat and you look at Leon, huffing out a small laugh.

“Gonna have to wait.”

“A real shame.’

You straighten yourself on shaky legs and look in the mirror, “oh my fucking–”

“I’ll get you an Uber and tell Chris you started feeling sick.” he offers. Right. Chris. Fiancé, love of your life Chris. Shit. “It was worth it.” he breaks your train of thought, “Good thing we didn’t break tradition.”

You swallow. “Right.”

He kisses you, slower this time.

Happy-fucking-holidays to you.

#leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy x you #leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x y/n #leon scott kennedy #leon s kennedy x y/n #leon s kennedy x you #leon s kennedy x fem!reader #leon s kennedy x reader #leon s kennedy smut #leon smut #resident evil x reader #resident evil fanfiction #resident evil x you #leonfucker3000 #♱ . * . * 3000s Fics

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coeurify · 1 year

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perfect girl | ellie williams.

tlou2 ellie williams x fem!reader. college modern au universe. word count 6.8k. proofread barely. part two here

ellie is the most known dealer on campus, and reader is a stuck up, bitchy, sorority girl. somehow ending up near each other at every party, despite constant fighting. this party is no different, at first

this is smut, 18+ only. included use of pet names, mean!ellie, mean!reader, name calling.. fingering r!receiving.. etc. its a bit filthy. i wrote when high

Honestly, you hated frat parties. The loud music, the humid air and noisy college students that all reaked of jungle juice and sweat. None of it appealed to you— you always left feeling dirty and with a headache. But being in the university’s biggest sorority meant it was sort of a needed appearance.

Even now, when you were stressed beyond belief over the three different exams on monday morning. You had still been dragged out by your sorority sisters with the promise of a great party.

It never was great though. Never.

Usually you found yourself shoo-ing off shirtless frat boys advances, cup in your hand that had a bit too much cheap vodka and too little juice. If you had to deal with these things, you may as well be tipsy enough for it.

Though, the alcohol never made you any less in control of yourself. Control was what you valued most, being able to easily keep yourself in check. Making sure your well taken care of clothes never crinkled, ensuring no piece of hair was out of place. This in turn usually meant you took the role of watching over your sorority sisters. Eyeing any boys who got too touchy when they were drunk, snapping at frat guys when they didn’t take a hint. cleaning their face of tears or sweat, reapplying their mascara or lip gloss when they couldn’t. Holding their drinks with your perfectly manicured hands when they needed to pee.

You didn’t judge them for how they acted, you knew they were just having fun. Sometimes you wish you could let go like that too, join in on their dances.. giggle loudly and flirt with boys with drunken courage. But you never did. You probably wouldn’t tonight, even when your friend Dina had taken the role of sober one of the group so you could try and have fun. You still just stood straight up and watched on.

You were untouchable, everyone knew it. You saw the way boys looked at you— like they were falling over themselves just for a chance you might talk to them. Girls whispered about you, whether it be good or bad.. you didn’t exactly care. You had been called a prissy bitch one too many times to truly give a shit what other twenty somethings had to say about your attitude. You enjoyed being something no one could reach. It made you feel powerful. You rarely gave anyone that wasn’t your friends the time of day at these things, and god did it drive people crazy.

You always positioned yourself somewhere like the drink table at every party, watching on as if it was a live show for you to consume. In some ways it was.. you were always a watcher, never involved. So looking on was usually your only source of fun at these things.

Tonight was no different— eyes steady on the large group of people dancing, more so falling over each other, in the center of the room. It was grossly humid, and the flashing lights hurt your eyes. Everyone was pressed too close together— far too big of a crowd for this tiny off campus fraternity.

You found a more open place between the scratchy and old couch and the pop up plastic table. It held half empty bottles and a punch bowl full of some concoction that made you shake your head at girls when they tried to take a cup.

You stand stiffly against the wall— refusing to sit, let alone lean against the couch next to you. You didn't even want to imagine how disgusting it was.. swearing it was a lighter shade of grey last time you were here. This choice of station however was opening yourself up to a night of pure torture from a particular presence that seemed to haunt every. fucking. frat party.

Ellie Williams. Right on cue she walked over, ignoring you as she plopped down onto the couch with a few of the frat boys. She opens a little bag and turns in to face them. Of course. Obviously the stoners would choose the couch as their designated spot for the night.

Even if she had not acknowledged you, you already were burning with annoyance. The orange lighting currently overhead painted you the same color your insides felt. A growing flame, dull and orange in the pit of your stomach.

Ellie was a usual attendee at these parties. But not with a group of friends or some sorority like a normal person. No, Ellie was the chosen dealer for most fraternities of the university.. meaning she almost always showed up to smoke and give out to stingy college students.

But god, you could not understand what made her the choice for these people. You found her utterly obnoxious. She was loud— had the mouth of a sailor, and was always making god awful jokes. She had no shame— outwardly talking to whoever she wanted however she wanted, flirting with girls no matter the situation. Because Ellie also referred to sit out on the side of the parties, it meant you unfortunately spent a lot of time around her. You heard every stupid joke, smelt every gross joint, watched every girl swoon over her atrocious flirting. It was miserable really.

And god did she love to annoy you. It was too easy. She had discovered that at the start of last spring semester, and since then, almost a year ago, had made it a fun game for her. It became routine — and you swore she did it on purpose. Found somewhere close to you, invaded your space, and made the party even worse. Ellie would never admit that though.

Tonight wasn’t different. You couldn’t avoid your eyes drifting to where she was collecting cash from a few frat guys, loudly laughing and making jokes about some Jurassic Park movie that a frat guy promised to put on the projector later.

“Nah, the second one is way better!” The frat boy, Josh from Sigma something-something (you didnt care to remember the names) argued.

Ellie quickly shook her head, and you noticed she was wearing that messy half up half down hairstyle you once told her looked dumb. “You fucking idiot, the first is way better! It's iconic and so are the dinosaurs in it!” she fights back, lightheartedly shoving Josh’s arm.

God, did she have to be so loud? It was already loud enough with the shitty music playing. You tuned out the rest of the conversation.. or attempted to. Ellie’s laugh made its way up and over the beat of the song playing. You looked over again, watching the way her head fell back. Even from here you could see the freckles on her face. The low colorful flashing lights of the room made them hard to see sometimes, though. Not that you cared.

Eventually, Josh and the three other boys got up and moved away from the couch— emptying the line of sight from you to Ellie. She caught your gaze before you could look away, and smiled that stupid cocky smile she always did.

“Need somethin’ princess?” Ellie questioned as she scooted to the seat closest to the edge you stood closest to. The name made you clench your fist tightly around the cup in your hands. She had adopted this nickname for you after commenting about 1200 times how you dressed and acted at these parties. ‘Stuck up princess’ she had called you after one particular comment. It stuck after that.

“Nope,” you popped the P, sipping at the vodka in your cup and refusing to meet her eyes again.

“You were staring.”

“Was not, you got my attention by being obnoxiously loud,” you bit back.

Ellie held her hands up in surrender, “Whatever you say.”

You scoffed, turning your nose up and looking at the center of the party again. Mentally you counted your friend group and where they all were in the crowd. One finger came to press a strand of hair back into your hairdo, and then press a hand to smooth your shirt. You just wanted to get through the next hour or two and get home to study.

You can hear the flick of a lighter next to you, and bite back a sigh. Ellie had been sitting here all of five minutes and had already resorted to smoking. Unsurprisingly.

When the smell soon invades the small space between you, and that flame of annoyance in your belly grows to a small blaze.

At first you ignore it, sniffing and rubbing your nose like it would make the smell disappear. You glance around the room, eyeing some particularly loud and annoying men who were whooping and hollering. Soon though, the smell became too much. You turned to face the couch.

“Ugh,” you make a noise of disgust, loud enough for Ellie to turn her head to you. You pair the sound with a (very dramatic) scrunched up nose. “You smell horrible.”

Ellie smiles in a lazy sort of way, legs spread comfortably on the couch and head leaned slightly to look at you. She makes it a point to blow the next puff from the joint straight at you— enjoying the way your hands come to swat away the smoke like it was poison. ��S’ just weed princess.. can't hurt you.”

Your arms cross, and Ellie watches as they press against the pretty baby blue lace shirt you're wearing.. too clean, too soft for a party like this. “It can make me stink though, like I already pointed out. Some of us care about things like personal hygiene, Williams,” you argue, to which she whistles, adding a quiet, “damn, low blow..”

She sits up straighter, leaning forward to inspect you. Seeing the pretty skirt that falls to your mid thigh— Ellie doesn’t doubt even for a moment that the white fabric caught lingering stares of every horny drunk college boy in the room when you walked in with your group.

But here you were, choosing to insult her instead of entertaining a single one of them.

“What's the reason for stick up your ass tonight?” She asks, making your eyes roll.

“Oh screw you, I’m acting perfectly reasonably.”

Ellie actually laughed at that, loudly enough to make you turn your head in embarrassment. “The way you act with me is never reasonable actually, but tonight is extra bad. You look stiffer and didn’t even attempt to be civil.”

It annoyed you even more that she noticed the stress radiating off of you so easily. She always could— it made her even better at pulling on the threads of you that made you most annoyed. She knew how to get a rise out of you.

“It's absolutely none of your business, Ellie,” you snap. Maybe it was a little harsh for such a simple question, but the auburn haired girl beside you got that out of you easily.

“God, would it kill you to be a little less bitchy for one night?” her green eyes narrowed in at you and she took another puff of the joint. Your eyes followed as she tilted her head up to the ceiling to blow out the smoke.

“Fuck you,” you mumble.

“Fuck you too, princess.”

There's a moment of heavy silence between the two of you, lights flashing now between a deep blue and green. The toe of your shoe tapped into the wood of the floor, the repeated motion serving as a distraction from the annoyance that Ellie caused. Your mind falls back to the exams you have to study for tonight.

The distraction quickly ends when the voice you had come to recognize anywhere popped up again. “Can you chill out? I can hear your shoe tapping from here.”

You huff, biting the inside of your cheek. “Can you shut the hell up? Go back to your joint and leave me alone.”

Ellie just scoffs, mumbling something about you needing the smoke more than her.

You ignore it, but can't deny how your mind wanders to the comment. What would it be like to smoke? Would it take the edge off like everyone said? You had only tried once or twice before.. both at a small get together where you ended up having to sober up quickly to care for your drunken friends.

“Seriously,” Ellie says a bit louder. “Come sit and have a smoke.”

“Excuse me?” you look at her like she had suggested the two of you take your clothes off mid party. Or she had suddenly grown two heads. It would offend her, the clear disgust— if she didn’t know you so well.

“There's a huge group of drunk guys walking over right now-“ she pointed with one of her fingers to where they were passing some game of beer pong. “If you stay there you’ll just get more pissed off and strung up when they bump into you and shit.”

You eye the group, slightly annoyed that Ellie was again right about how you would react. You glance then at the couch, at the weird dark stain and uncomfortable looking material. “I'm not smoking. But if you want me to sit? Take off your sweatshirt.”

Now it was Ellie’s turn to ask, “Excuse me?”

You make a face at her, pointing to the gross couch. “I’m not sitting on that nasty couch. If you want me to sit? take off your sweatshirt and let me use that.”

You know it's a bratty request, and neither you or Ellie look away from each other for a moment, not knowing who was going to make the first move. You almost regret it, and then Ellie reaches to the bottom of her sweatshirt.

It sends some sort of shockwave through you when she pulls the material over her head. You convince yourself it's because you feel like you have won, gotten your way over the girl you hated. Definitely not because her undershirt rode up for a moment, or that her sleeve tattoo was now on display.

“You’re such a fucking bitch,” she says in a exasperated tone, but still lays the sweatshirt across the seat on next to her on the couch.

You smile sarcastically, “Mhm, thanks,” you move to the front of the couch, holding your skirt down as you sit on top of her sweater and press forward, sitting straight up so the back of your shirt doesn't hit the couch. You felt Ellie’s eyes on you, on the very large gap between you. “I can't infect you with something you know?” the auburn haired girl says a bit slowly.

“Haven’t I said it a million times? You smell bad.”

Ellie’s lip quirk into a smile and she doesn’t reply, placing the joint between her lips again and lighting it for another drag.

Just like she described, the group of college boys clambered over to the drink table, invading the corner you were just standing in to shout loudly and put the bottles wildly into cups. You cringe, shifting in your seat. You wouldn’t admit it, but you were glad Ellie had asked you to sit now.

The two of you didn’t talk, for a moment you watch Ellie’s freckled cheeks suck in slightly as she takes a drag, and watch her lips part to blow it out. Unable to tear your eyes away until a new voice comes from in front of you.

“Hey, Y/N right?” Ellie glances up for a split second before going back to looking uninterested in the boy trying to start conversation with you.

“Yep,” you answer plainly as you look at him. You recognized him in a blurry sort of way. His name started with an L… Lucas.. Leo.. La-

“Im Liam, from the last party,” he explains before you finish your train of thought. “Right, Liam.”

Liam bounces a bit on his heels, which embarrasses you. You fight the urge to curl your lip at the sight. “I was wondering if you wanted to go chill with a few of my friends and girls from your sorority upstairs? We’re gonna smoke and play games like seven minutes in heaven.”

Beside you it feels like someone has stiffened, but you ignore it. You let your face drop to look even more uninterested. “Seven minutes in heaven? Really? What are we? Fifteen?”

Liam flushes, clearing his throat to talk again. You just shake your head to stop him. “I don't smoke either so no thank you, Liam. Im good.”

The boy slumps a little. “Right. Maybe next time,” and then he turns on his heel and walks off.. looking like a dog with its tail between their legs.

Ellie chuckles, making that fire come back to your belly. You turn quickly— eyeing her. “What's funny, Williams?”

“He totally wanted to fuck you,” Ellie shrugs, watching until Liam disappears up the stairs.

You try to ignore the heat creeping up your neck, picking at your painted nails to keep the blush from reaching your cheeks. “Fuck off.”

“Trust me, I know these guys. Every party one of them tries to get in your pants, and you turn them down every single time.”

Ellie looks smug as she says it— and you want to wipe the look off her fucking face. Acting like she knew something, like she could tell you more about what was happening than you could.

“You don’t know shit Ellie,” you argue, unable to bite back the slightly misplaced anger anymore, leaning forward. “Why do you even care? Are you obsessed with me or something? Not everyone wants to fuck everything that walks.”

The words have a bite to them, bitter on your tongue. Your chest’s rise and fall is speeding up as you finish speaking. You watch as Ellie’s eyes get darker in the light, the flashing lights stop into a solid red as some song with the color name begins.

“And why do you care who I fuck? hm? Maybe you do need to get laid by one of those guy’s falling all over you. Might make you a little less of a strung up bitch,” Ellie’s voice is harder now, aiming to displease you more so than before.

It works, the flame in you spilling over to a whole fucking house fire at the comment. Your hand instinctively grips your cup, reaches forward and dumps it all over Ellie’s chest.

Silence follows, and you immediately regret it.. knowing you took it too far. This quiet is uncomfortable enough to make you squirm, pressing further away from the wet patch growing on the cushion. Ellie looks at her shirt, very slowly raising her head to look dead at you.

“Get up.” It's not a question when she says it, harsher tone than she had ever used with you.

For once, you don’t immediately bite back. “Wha-“

“Get up. You just fucking dumped your drink on me, you can help me fix it,” Ellie demands again. She puts out the joint on the table nearby, messy enough to make you cringe.

You can't tell how red her face is because of the lights.. but you are sure she is fuming. The way she is stiff and slow with her movements to stand a clue enough.

That’s why you don't fight to scramble to your feet after her when she starts walking. Your fingers grip at the sweatshirt under you, holding it in your hand as she pushes past people to get to a room nearby. You follow quickly behind— watching curious eyes follow you chasing after the other. The red lights hide the growing blush on your cheeks, the music pounding in tandem with your heart.

When she pushes open a door, you squeeze in quickly after her.

Ellie’s tattooed arm reaches to the side of you where the doorknob is, and her fingers move to lock it. You swallow at the proximity, ducking away quickly.

She doesn’t speak as she peels the now wet shirt from her frame— throwing it on the floor near the bed. Your eyes don't look away as she does so. In fact, you can’t tear them away.

Her body is toned, more so than you would have expected. Not that you thought of her shirtless before or anything. Her fingers ghost gently over her own skin, wiping any extra wetness. Your pupils follow the way the digits move.

What doesn’t surprise you however, is the sports bra that lays beneath the shirt. It's snug against her skin, and you watch as she tugs it back into the right place. You watch her breathe, heavy and unsteady, a clear sign she is not exactly calm at the moment.

“You are such a fucking brat, you know that?” Her blazing eyes meet your own— and you almost shrink. This Ellie.. She was different. You are no longer burning with the anger her face usually ignites in you. No, this fire is all different.

“Oh cat got your tongue now, princess? for once you don't have a stuck up comment to make hm?” She steps closer to you, looking down to where her sweatshirt hangs from your fingertips.

“Put my sweatshirt back on me.”

The words make your mouth go slack, finally mustering up the courage to speak. “Fuck off, Ellie.”

“Im serious,” her hair is more messy now, strands falling in front of her face as she stares at you. “You made me take it off for you, so now you can put it back on me. Fair is fair, princess.”

“You can’t be serious,” you scoff, shaking your head at the suggestion.

“You do it or I go out there, tell the frat hosting that you’re a crazy bitch who spilt her drink on me. You and your sorority sisters would get blacklisted from every party before those pretty eyelashes could even blink.”

It's a threat. A threat to your power, the social standing within your group and the general university. A threat to your ego as a whole, the thought you would be the cause of something like that. It also was a quick reminder that no matter what you said to her at these parties, she was the one with the power. You could insult and poke at her all you wanted.. but Ellie was the one with half of the people out in that room down the hallway wrapped around her finger. Her.. business determined that.

You purse your lips, meeting the green eyes staring at you again. It's another fight for power. Seeing who will crack under the tension first. You find yourself noticing the freckles that dust her face again, and a small red mark on her cheek you had not really paid attention to before. Your heart hammers against your ribcage, and you look away in defeat.

Ellie knows she won, stepping even closer to you, enough that you can feel the heat radiating off of her. It does something to you that you wouldn’t like to admit, your knees going ever so slightly weak. She pushes a fallen strand of auburn hair back behind her ear while waiting for your next move.

It comes a second later, shuffling the sweatshirt in your hand to the right position, leaning forward to push the hoodie part over Ellie’s head, fingers shaking when they brush against her bare shoulder. You can't admit to yourself that it isn’t because of some annoyance that you were reacting like this. She helps a bit when you drag the sweatshirt down her chest by pushing her arms through the sleeves.

When it's finished, you both linger for a moment, your nails still near her waistline. It only ends when she steps back, gaze still set on you.

“You gonna say sorry?” she asks, eyebrow raising expectantly.

You shake your head. “Fuck. Off.”

Ellie tsks, watching your every movement. She didn’t ignore how your eyes had been all over her tonight, how you couldn’t look away when her shirt was off. And god, what would be a better way to win whatever this was than taking what she wanted from you.

“Cmon, you know I was right about what I said,” she steps around you and then forward, smiling as you continue to back away everytime she gets closer. when the back of your leg hits the bed, you stop. “You do need to get fucked, might make you a little less miserable to be around.”

Her voice has fallen more quiet, a little something new to the way she spoke.

“But you don’t want one of those dicks outside to do it, do you?” it's accusatory when it's said, enough to make you realize where this conversation was going.

God, you would never admit it out loud. not even to yourself. Everytime you avoided a guy’s advance to instead bicker with Ellie all night. The times you insulted her about something because it made you warm all over, like a certain hairstyle or shirt. You blamed her a lot for annoying you, for those jokes she makes— for how she bothers you. But in honesty, you just hated that you couldn’t look away. Not from her face, her hands, the way she smokes, or spreads her legs open when she sits. It’s absolutely infuriating how much you think of her. But you had always kept it deep enough to not think about it until she brought it up herself.

“No, that's why you always turn them down.. why you always look at me after you do. God, you don't even realize it do you?” A shocked sort of chuckle escaped her lips, like she couldn’t believe this realization either. Her finger moves to a strand of your hair that must have fallen while you chased after her.

“You want me. You want me to fuck you, don’t you princess? That's why you are always such a little priss, isn't it. Get you so hot and bothered you just can't help but be mean?”

When you don't answer, Ellie reaches forward quickly to grab your wrist, gaining your attention. “Answer me.”

“No- I don’t fucking want you Ellie,” you choke it out, like it burned your throat to say. It was worse than a shot of whatever they had outside this door.

“If you don’t want me, then walk away right now. But this is your only chance. No more after this. You can't get one of those asshole frat guys instead. No more entertaining the little arguments you start. No more ignoring when you stare at m-“

You can't even let her finish her words before you crash forward, meeting her lips in an immediately messy kiss. She swears against your lips before dropping your wrist, arms instead moving to your hips, pressing you flush against her body. You want to pull away, regain the control you so desperately cling to— want to run off and out of the party.

But once the kiss deepens, once her tongue swipes against your lips.. you’re a goner.

You whimper when she bites your bottom lip harshly, and she swallows the sound with another burning kiss. You pull her to fall back onto the bed with you, and she immediately manhandles you further onto the bed, taking position over you and not apologizing when your head slams roughly into the headboard.

“Asshole,” you whine, she digs her fingers into your hip to shut you up as her teeth drag down to your neck, wet kisses and small bites pressing there until she finds the spot that makes you shiver, hand slapping against her arm, pretty nails pressing into the skin.

She bites harder, pulling a louder yell from you. She then sucks over the spot, soothing it with another swipe of her tongue. The throbbing feeling will no doubt result in a mark— and Ellie seems to know exactly that.

“Everyone’s gonna know,” she mumbles against your skin as she sucks another spot, controlling your hips with one hand when they try to buck up.

“All those other girls are gonna know when you wake up with these littered all over your neck tomorrow-“ another bite. “Gonna know what happened, what the perfect little sorority girl did with me.”

The comment draws another noise from you, and the heat pools between your legs, embarrassingly turned on by the thought of that humiliation sure to follow walking out of this room later. You can feel your panties going damp when she doesn’t let up the assault on your neck and collarbone.

You can smell the weed on her when her head dips closer to you again, and for once you don’t mind it. You meet her lips, shaky hand still gripping at the inked skin of her arm.

She's so controlled in her movements, enjoying how you are already a squirmy mess, enjoying how she has control. It's nothing like the Ellie she was in public, loud and joking. No, she was completely serious and calculated with every single swipe of her finger, every movement of her lips. One hand roughly goes to your chest, pushing up your shirt above your breasts, not bothering to even do the kindness of taking it off all the way.

“Mm, no bra?” Ellie questions mockingly, pulling back from your wet lips— acting like she hadn’t noticed the lack of one the moment you turned to face her at this damn party.

You shake your head, reduced to little words.

Ellie watches you carefully, at your puffy lips, at the way your perfect hair is now falling in chunks against the pillow. God, what a sight. You, untouchable and pristine.. reduced to being fucked on a stranger’s bed in a frat house. By her.

“Want me to touch you here?” she questions, fingers ghosting over your nipples.. smiling when they pebble at the softest touch. Your back arches, searching for more skin to skin as you nod quickly.

“Nuh Uh- words, princess, need you to say it.”

You glance at her, one side of you fighting against this feeling of submission you can feel yourself falling into. In an act of defiance, your hand comes up and over her larger one, pressing it down against the skin of your breast, breathing out a moan instead of answering her question.

This however was a bad idea, and she immediately pulls completely back, quick to grab your face harshly between her palm. “You fucking brat,” Ellie seeths, your lips pressing open just slightly at how hard she is pressing her hand. The roughness only makes you wetter, and you attempt to squeeze your thighs together for some sort of friction.. but Ellie is faster, slotting a knee in between your legs as she looks down at you, free arm holding herself up.

“No, you don’t get anything from me, no relief for that throbbing feeling you have im sure,” she says it so cockily that you think you may melt into the sheets beneath you. “Not till you admit you want me. Admit you want me to touch you.”

Your face burns a bright red, angry and embarrassed at the same time. You tried to avoid this admittance, ready to die on the hill to protect your already bruised ego.

But then Ellie moves her knee slightly, a shock goes straight through your core. Even the smallest movement had you trying to push down against her needily. She squeezes your face harder. “Just say it, I can make you feel so much better if you just admit it.”

The line your dignity was tiptoeing on is fraying, taken over by the bowling ball amount of weight from the desire in your stomach. The second her knee moves again, the string breaks.

“Please,” you beg, watching as Ellie’s eyes light up at the words, “Ellie I want you to touch me.”

Ellie smiles, reveling in how embarrassed you look. “Where baby?”

You suck in a breath, too far gone to keep fighting, “my pussy, please, please Ellie.. need you to.”

You’re squirming all over now, whining and feeling your throat tighten. Your lip gloss is all over your (and Ellie’s for that matter) chin, and your shirt is still just pushed over your chest. It makes Ellie shake her head. “God, you look pathetic. What happened to you hm? Where’s that put together girl you love to brag about being?”

Any words to snap back die in your throat, her mean tone is making your mind too foggy. The way you are totally at the mercy of her body, of the way she talks to you.. It’s addicting. The feeling of letting go of that control and power you hold so tightly onto.. It's almost as good as the sensation of her knee starting to move more regularly against your center.

“You look like a whore,” she laughed meanly. You are sure it’s true, your skirt is falling down, your hair has snapped out of its tie. Her hand lets go of your chin, and you move your mouth slightly at the soreness. The freedom is short- lived however, and two fingers are tapping your cheek soon after.

“Open,” Ellie says, smiling when you do so immediately. “See, it's not hard to be a good girl.”

She sinks the two fingers into your waiting mouth, one quick demand to, “Suck,” is all you need to close your mouth around them.

You aren’t careful about it, drool seeping out the corner of your mouth when she starts thrusting the fingers in and out slightly, watching in amusement as she curls her long fingers slightly, making you gag. “So fucking messy,” she mumbles.

Her pupils are just as blown out as yours when she speaks again, pulling her fingers out after deeming they were wet enough. A line of spit follows, connecting to your lips.

She wipes the excess across your face, furthering that deep embarrassment that builds in you. “‘m gonna fuck you now, princess.”

She says it as she makes you sit up with her on the bed, arm pulling to set you up how she wanted, knees tucked under your thighs on each side of her lap. You let her push and tug you around— fully dumbed out for her at this point. Desperate for some relief.

her fingers play with your skirt for a moment, and you both watch intently as they disappear under it. You push into her, earning a quick look. “Be good,” the girl demands.

You stop your movements, mumbling something Ellie can't understand. The pad of her finger slides over your clothed slit— humming at the wet feeling.

“You’re fucking soaked,” she shook her head, “All from what? Cause I was mean to you? Just from my knee, baby? How pathetic.”

Another whine rips from your throat, head falling to her shoulder. She shrugs it to force your head up again. “Want ya to look at me while I do this,” she explains— green eyes now mostly black as they meet your own. You nod, trying to please her enough for the next move.

“Atta girl..” she praises.

Your panties are pushed to the side as she sinks a singular finger into you— both of you moaning at the feeling. You’re so warm and tight around her that she gets dizzy, a warmth pooling in between her own legs. But tonight, It was about you. It was about proving who had the control here.. who could make you feel so good.

“Fuck,” you blubber, not getting a chance to savor the feeling before shes moving it in and out quickly, and then she is adding another finger.. and a minute after that, another. It's stretching you so well, so perfectly that you swear you could come right there. But you don’t, eyes set on her own— a hard look on her face as she watches your reactions. She leans closer, wanting to hear every little breath, every whimper.

“What would they think, hm?” Ellie huffs, pressing further into you. “All those frat boys who eye you up at every party,” she adds with a particularly hard thrust. “What do you think they would say if they found out it was me you got up that pretty little skirt first?” She whispers against your ear. Each word is emphasized with a press of her fingers, each rougher.. deeper, than the last.

You can feel your cheeks burning, and you blink away the tears welling in your eyes. You can't help the reaction— it's too much. She’s too much. The feeling is stealing all coherent words and thoughts from your mind— making you a teary and whining mess.

It made a fire flick in Ellie’s lower stomach— knowing she was the cause of pristine, pretty, perfect you— looking so messy. So fucked out. All from just her fingers. From her words.

“Too dumb to answer?” she teases, “too drunk on my fingers to even say anything?”

You shake your head like it isn’t true, and she slows her hand. You shake, trying to thrust yourself down onto them.

“Tell me then princess, tell me none of them could fuck you like this. No one could get you this fucking pathetic other than me.”

Fat tears are rolling down your cheeks now, lip quivering as you search for more friction. “Please, please el,” you cry, “No one else no one else, just you-“

All of your words slur together, and your nails dig into Ellie’s shoulder enough to make her hiss. The answer seems good enough, and she resumes her quick and harsh movements, fingers curling to hit that spot that made your mouth fall open, tears dripping past your lips.

“Fuck yea, only me,” she groans, your words pushing her to make you come even more now, thumb rubbing against your clit. It coaxes downright pornographic noises from you. Ones that someone had to have heard. You don’t give a fuck though, not right now.

“M’ gonna come,” you whine, face falling to Ellie’s shoulder again, pressing your nose into the crook of her neck. This time Ellie allows it— too focused on the wet sounds of her fingers moving in and out of you under the now ruined skirt.

“Alright baby, you can come,” Ellie coos— finally showing a bit of kindness to you as you clench around her fingers. “Come for me, princess.”

The cord in your stomach snaps, and you have to bite at Ellie’s neck to stop from screaming. The orgasm hits you like a fucking train, shaking harshly.

Ellie works you through it, mumbling compliments against you. “So pretty, so messy and perfect for me,” she hums. When she is sure you have calmed down enough, she slowly pulls her fingers out, and then lays you back against the bed. You sink into the mattress, cheeks red and wet with tears. She admires you, messy fingers pressing to her own lips to get a taste. The flavor of you, god Ellie thinks she may be addicted. She sucks her fingers clean and for a moment debates ringing another orgasm out of you with her tongue. But the look on your face, how tired you look.. she decides to save it for another time.

For now she stands, searching around until she finds the attached bathroom, disappearing into it.

Your eyes search for her, feeling needy. “El-“ you whimper.

“I'm just getting a rag to clean you up baby,” she explains from the open door— and you relax when she walks back out with a warm small rag.

She joined you back on the bed, coaxing your legs open as she very carefully cleans you off. The friction makes more tears drop from your eyes.

“Aw princess,” she pouts— wiping with her other hand to get the tears off of your cheek and drool off your chin. “So pathetic looking.. so pretty.”

The switch between praise and degradation makes you dizzy again, eyes closing for a second.

When shes done cleaning you up, you grab her wrist when she tries to stand. “ w’nna make you feel good el,” you beg. It takes Ellie a moment to match your whiny voice to that of the girl she knew outside of this bedroom, but when she comes back to reality— she shakes her head.

“Later baby, promise. You’re too tired, wanna get you back to your place.”

The promise to not just abandon after this makes your heart twist in your chest, that cold front that Ellie put on while fucking you straying away now.

You nod, letting Ellie help you sit up.

“Ready to walk through that door?” she asks, quirking an eyebrow.

A tired laugh bubbles in your throat just at the thought, cheeks hot all over again.

“Yea. Yea, I’ll just say we got into a fist fight.”

“Fucking brat.”

#ellie williams x reader #ellie williams #ellie williams x you #ellie williams x y/n #tlou2 #ellie x fem reader #ellie williams smut

4K notes · View notes

maokomi · 1 year

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⠀「 “Dress slutty babe, I can fight,” but can they really? *ೃ༄ 」

ᥫ᭡ Reblogs are greatly appreciated !!

.ೃ࿔*:･「𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬.」 modern au, gn reader, established relationship crack ?? This shit aint serious so don’t treat it like it is lmfao

.ೃ࿔*:･「𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠.」 Xiao, Kazuha, Zhongli, Kaeya, Kaveh, Cyno

Wrote this drunk, no editing, no looking back at my regrets last night. What happens in Vegas stays in Vegas.

⠀「 XIAO*ೃ༄ 」

YOU BET UR ASS THIS MAN CAN FIGHT

Tells u to dress slutty with his whole chest !!!

Wear whatever you want to feel good about yourself and to feel comfortable. That’s all that Xiao cares abt tbh.

If he sees anyone leering at you in your hot outfit though? His munchkin ass is on them in a heartbeat.

Doesn’t matter who. Doesn’t matter how tall they are. He’ll bark up at them like a chihuahua. Scale them like a fuckin rabid cat or smthn.

Xiao said he can fight and he will !!!!!

⠀「 KAZUHA*ೃ༄ 」

Compliments you in your sluttiest outfit !! Hell, mans helps you pick it out!!

CAN FIGHT Can !! Beat !! Ass !!

Except he chooses not to 😌 because he is a lover💞💕 not 🙅‍♂️🚫 a fighter ☮️🕊✌️😌

But he makes it very very very clear to anyone and everyone who so much glances in ur general direction that !! HELLO HE IS UR MAN

Holds ur hand. Keeps an arm around your middle. Plays with ur hair. The whole shebang baby

But if someone grows the gonads to actually approach you while Kazuha is so blatantly flirting with u right then and there ??

Kazuha doesn’t even have to get up.

He fucking ROASTS the motherfucker alive. All cool and suave. Keeps his voice level while he tells the newcomer all the reasons why their parents are disappointed in them.

Kazuha fucking cooks them bro I dont know what to tell u Rest In Peace to that dumbass I guess

⠀「 ZHONGLI*ೃ༄ 」

Bold of anyone to think they can steal u from a man who walks in with this much rizz 🤨

Zhongli wears a whole ass custom Valentino suit & shoes to go to a club no way in hell is anyone gonna try to chat u up baby doesn’t matter how slutty u dress

Esp when ?? Ur slutty outfit matches Zhongli’s fit ? Absolute power couple I rest my case

Sugar daddy Zhongli supremacy I said what I said

I restate my point: No one is gonna think they have a chance against Zhongli. They’re all scared they’ll get murked on their way home if they so much as try.

Kinda soft but they fr dont even have a chance bc Zhongli just has to compliment u and u light up like an actual Christmas tree, you get so goddamn happy that anyone even trying to fight him is already fighting a losing battle.

⠀「 KAEYA*ೃ༄ 」

Baby, bold of u to assume that Kaeya’s not gonna be dressed sluttier than u 🤨

Hate to break it to you buttercup but Kaeya’s not gonna be the one royal rumbling tonight— nu uh, that’s you.

Have you seen the titty window this man rocks?

Skip the accessories whenever you go out Kaeya, because you are going to beat some ass, and earrings and necklaces only get in the way 💕

It’s tiring having to keep everyone’s eyes off of ur boyfriend but it’s okay because whenever you go to the bar for a quick time out, Kaeya always has a kiss and a drink ready for u before u go back to fucking people up <3

⠀「 KAVEH*ೃ༄ 」

I love him but you’re on your own honey

Claims that he’ll kick ass— that you can wear whateverrr you want, that you look so hot, that you look amazing and that he’ll fight anyone who comes near u

Hypes you up and hollers and makes u feel like a million bucks because he’s a good, supportive bf

But in the midst of it all you forget he’s some broke ass architect who probably hasn’t taken a solid punch in his life

When someone approaches u he puffs up his chest and stands in front of u with his most intense bitch face, says smthn that he thinks tough guys says like, ‘you wanna fight? Let’s fight.’ Or some cheesy shit like that

The moment the other dude swings tho its over 💀 Kaveh yells and has to hide behind you

It’s okay tho because he’s cute <3 (even if he’s broke)

Hope you didn’t wear anything breakable baby bc youre the one who’s gotta fight for urself

⠀「 CYNO*ೃ༄ 」

Doesn’t even have to fight bro.

Doesn’t matter how slutty you dress— you could walk into a bar with just the bare minimum on and no one would look your way.

Not because you’re unattractive, because that is far from the truth.

No— it’s because of Cyno’s arm wrapped around your shoulder and the absolute death stare he gives anyone who looks your way with even a hint of lechery in their gaze.

Crazy shit, I tell you. Motherfucker’s eyes look like he’ll pounce on anyone who so much as wolf whistles your way. No one wants to get fucked up by a dude who looks like he’ll go blue eyes white dragon on their ass.

#love’s stories ♡.ೃ࿔*:·#xiao x reader #kaedehara kazuha x reader #kazuha x reader #zhongli x reader #kaeya alberich x reader #kaeya x reader #kaveh x reader #cyno x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact fluff #genshin impact imagines #genshin impact #genshin impact xiao #kaedehara kazuha #genshin impact zhongli #kaeya alberich #genshin impact kaveh #genshin impact cyno

7K notes · View notes

3typical3 · 1 year

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Tip for non Hispanic ppl writing Spanglish

*I initially wrote this at 1 am so like, keep that in mind as you decipher this lol

*context is key when speaking Spanglish, if your character is in a professional setting they probably won’t speak Spanglish unless it’s to a fellow co worker who also speaks Spanglish. It’s more of a casual way a speaking yk?

Also parents, I avoid Spanglish with my parents unless we’re switching from just speaking Spanish to just speaking English. But that’s depends from family to family.

It’s typically like switching sentences and not dropping in random words.

Example “ es Que fui a la tienda, and they were out of milk”

Example “ te ves cansada, did you sleep last night?”

“La neta” is and extremely common Mexican slang term, typically means, honestly. It can also be used to mean ‘really?’

Honestly example:

“La neta, Im tired”

Or “La neta, estoy cansada. Im going to bed”

In the case it means “really?”:

ex.) “Neta?! They said that?!”

I personally say “ de que” which is basically saying “like”, it’s a filled term, before saying a sentence in either English or Spanish

example “ de que idk it won’t work”

I’m Mexican so I use “ósea” a lot in both languages. Another substitute for words like:

“I mean,” “it'd be,” ”like,” “so,” “that is,” “therefore,” and “or.”

Ex. “ ósea, it looks weird idk”

The famous “ pero like” I personally don’t use a lot but an example of how it’s used in Spanglish is “ pero like, how did it happen?”

Sometimes I Just say “ fuck” but like in my Mexican accent or in a sentence.

“ fuck, perdí mi pulsera”

When I get startled I cuss in both English and Spanish but a Spanglish example would be

*insert random startling noise

“ ala verga! That scared me” or “ hijo de tu puta madre!” when something REALLY scared the shit out of me lol

“Chingada madre, where did that come from”

Rlly insert any cuss word in there and it probably works in Spanglish.

Edit bc I thought of this the morning after

In Mexican Spanish for whatever reason the word “madre” can be used like kinda like a cuss word lol.

Example “ Me vale madres”

Which in English would translate to “I don’t value mothers” but in practice means “I don’t give a shit” or “I don’t care”.

Another Mexican deep cut is the word “pedo” which yes, means fart but we’ve really given the word so many alternative meanings like

“ no es mi pedo “ = “not my problem”

“Estoy bien pedo” = “in rlly drunk”

“Vas a la peda?” = “ are you going to the party/kickback”

There’s more but that’s like the basics lol.

Also another Mexican term is “Aguas”… which literally translates to “waters” but it’s used as a warning.

“Aguas, there’s car coming”

The most famous of Mexican slang has to be “wey” or “guey” depends on how you spell it. But it just means dude. Another term that goes in hand is, “no mames” which basically means “are you kidding me”.

*men for whatever reason hate when the girl they’re dating or are into calls them wey. I think it’s because it’s seen as either improper or as like friend zoning.

“Wey, you’re not gonna believe this”

“No mames wey, look at this”

Another term is “equis” which basically means whatever

“How was the party?”

“Estuvo equis”

Another example

“ now was she dressed?”

“Equis, nothing crazy nothing wow”

*I recommend for Mexican characters looking into the words, or you can just ask me I just don’t wanna make this longer than I already have lol, “mamar”/“mamo”/“mamon”, each you would think is the same but no, no they are not and using one in the wrong context could be catastrophic lol. They are vital words to our vocab

If you’re writing to a character from a specific country, take the time to learn some slang. Sometimes slang crosses over, sometimes even we use slang we learn from each others dialects. Personally I love “joder”/“no jodas” because of the shows from Spain.

But take the time because if you write a Colombian character using most of the slang I’ve used above, you’d get a lot of hate from Colombians lol.

Some bad Spanglish examples would be

“ why didnt you eat your comida?”

Like no. Just no. Inserting a random Spanish word doesn’t equate to Spanglish, at least not in most Latin peoples lives

“ you look cansada” also just no.

*Edit I saw someone post abt this and I felt like adding it in

If you do insert a random Spanish word or vice versa it’s because you forgot the word but that involves a lot of blanking and being annoyed you can’t dig the simplest word out of you sub conscience lol

Example: “ you look, FUCK what’s the word! You know when you’re cansada…TIRED. You look tired”

Another commenter addition I’ll be adding is using “eh” as a filler instead of “um”. I use both but even in English I default to using “eh” or “ehmmmm”

The worst is when you don’t remember the word, only to have it appear in your subconscious hours later lol

Another fav filler word is “deste” which equates to another more Central American term “vaina” but a less refined way of saying it. Essentially they mean “thing” but that thing can be anything. It’s kinda a word when you’re to lazy to say the actual word.

“Pásame el deste”

*passes them x ítem

“No I meant the remote”

*trying not to kill the person because they could’ve said remote the whole time but chose not to

Sometimes we use bad Spanglish on purpose just to be funny

“Que sad” “Que cute”

* i personally love inserting the word cute into my vocab in Spanish just cuz so to each their own

Something I do is like say something in English and immediately say the exact same thing in Spanish. Or like I’ll say an exclamation in one language then end in the other.

“ GO GO GO, VÁMONOS APÚRATE”

“Que asco, gross”

“WOW, que bueno”

Also if you’re writing like couples tbh nicknames in Spanish would be reserved for when you’re speaking in Spanish and same for English, but each couple is different so if you rlly want to leave a nickname in Spanish in go for it. If you rlly want the endearment to be “ mi amor” please remember that after like the first or second time the Spanish speaker would probably just refer to their S/O as “ amor” or switch between the two.

Which brings me to the terms “mami/mamita” and “papi/papito”. Now, while they Can and are by some used in a sexual manner, they can also be used as general terms of endearment. My mom will sometimes call me mamita or my brother papito.

Amongst couples though it’s just kinda said, I saw someone describe it was you just give motherly energy so “mami” is said lol which I get oddly enough.

Once a couple is well established or just comfortable the woman can refer to her S/O as “ viejo” which is old man lol, but it’s like cute. On the flip side idk it’s typically seen as offensive when a man calls his S/O “vieja” but that depends on culture to culture.

Again mami and papi don’t have to be sexual but can be.

Another simple thing you can do is look up nicknames for certain names.

Examples:

“Mike” pronounced “Mique” for Miguel. Some people like to use “Mickey”, that gained popularity from an old Mexican singer lol.

“Ponchó” For Alfonso

“Ale” Can be used for Alejandro/Alexandra/Alejandra

Another thing I thought of is amongst siblings when referring to our parents we will say like

“Haz visto a mi mamá”

Which means have you seen “my mom” even though she’s both our mom… idk it’s weird but a nice little touch you could add to your writing lol

I get rlly annoyed reading bad Spanglish, sometimes it’s just painfully cringe and just obvious a non Spanish speaker wrote it, and I realize it’s bc most of y’all didnt grow up with it so like this is just what is typical Spanglish most Hispanic ppl grow up speaking, obviously not everyone speaks like this but figured I’d give tips from someone who actually speaks English and Spanish and switches between.

If I missed anything feel free to add on or if you disagree add examples

#writing tips #writing #fan fic #miguel ohara #miguel o’hara x reader #namor x reader #pedro pascal #oscar issac #tenoch huerta #marvel #spiderman #hispanic #fan fic writing

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flanaganfilm · 11 months

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You have spoken about dealing with addiction in the past (congratulations on your sobriety, btw), and Hill House, Midnight Mass, Doctor Sleep, etc, all feature characters struggling with addiction. Do you find a sort of catharsis in writing those characters and their storylines, and do you find that having gone through that affects how you write those characters and their stories? p.s. if the question is too personal, I apologize. You are, of course, free to ignore it.

Happy to talk about it. I was writing about addiction long before I admitted having a problem. Looking all the way back to my student films, many years before Absentia, I can see myself starting to pick it apart. The fact is I was a really shitty drunk. I was absolutely a problem drinker. It was always that way, going back to school - I was never able to handle it, and there were times throughout my life starting very young when that thought would occur to me, and I'd get scared, and then I'd convince myself I was being dramatic and that I had no problem whatsoever.

The truth is that I didn't have an OFF switch, I was inclined to hide my drinking, and the older I got the more self-destructive I became when I was under the influence.

But I was also very committed to the belief that I could handle it, and that I didn't have an actual problem, so for years I'd coast by, telling myself whatever issues I may have had weren't so serious. "Nine times out of ten, I'm just fine - I'm the life of the party," I'd think. I wasn't, though, and soon enough it was 50/50 whether I'd have to make apologetic phone calls on a given hungover morning. And those stretches where'd I'd really let go and drink hard, the person who emerged was less and less like me. It got to the point I didn't recognize him at all - there was this stranger who lived inside, and if he got out, he was could destroy everything I held dear, and he didn't give two shits about it. Looking back at the last decade of my work with the perspective I have now, I can see an escalating subconscious urgency in the way I was talking about alcoholism and addiction. My 2003 student feature Ghosts of Hamilton Street features a wanna-be writer with a horribly self-destructive alcohol problem. The people in his life begin to physically disappear, and the world around him resets as though they never existed at all, so he's the only who notices. I was 25 years old when I made that movie, and looking at it now, the addiction issues are a huge blinking red light all over the movie. At the time, I thought it was just interesting context for the character.

I wrote the opening scene of Midnight Mass (which features Riley Flynn waking up from a blackout drunk driving session to find that he's killed someone) all the way back in 2010, eight years before I finally sobered up. That was always something I was absolutely terrified of - not that I'd die because of my drinking, but that I'd kill someone else and live with the consequences. That was probably my biggest fear for most of my life, if I'm honest. And there were mornings I'd wake up at home and wonder how the hell I'd driven myself there the night before. I remember those mornings with a stomach-turning degree of terror and shame.

It was always somewhat cathartic to write about characters with addiction issues. There's a long stretch between Absentia and Hill House where it appears that I'm not dealing with those themes in my work (though I'd argue there's a subtle addiction meditation at play in Before I Wake that I've only recently noticed), but I was also secretly working on Midnight Mass that entire time, and just pouring all of my thoughts and anxieties about alcoholism into that story. So while Oculus, Hush, Ouija: OOE, and Gerald's Game don't seem to dwell much on addiction, that's really because I was spending my nights pouring all of that into the pages of Midnight Mass, which existed alternately as a novel, a screenplay, and then a series during those years.

Working on Doctor Sleep is what brought it all to the surface for me. Stephen King's novel deals thoroughly with the theme of recovery (The Shining is about destruction of addiction, and Doctor Sleep is about the journey and reality of recovery), and a lot of people in my cast were sober. It was while we were shooting that film that I realized I needed to make a seismic change in my life.

My wife will say that reading the scene in Doctor Sleep where Dan sits at the Gold Room bar in the Overlook was when she knew I was reaching a critical moment. That scene isn't in King's book, and my first draft of that conversation between Dan and Jack was almost fifteen pages long. It's basically a prolonged argument between the addictive and sober voices in my mind, and writing that scene shook something loose in me. I stopped drinking just a few days before we filmed that scene for that movie, and I haven't had a drop since.

But for catharsis, Midnight Mass truly is the most personal piece of work I've ever made. Riley is a very thinly disguised avatar of myself. I look at that series and I see several distinct versions of myself in conversation with each other over more than a decade. I'm glad it took so long to get that show made, because if I'd made it in 2016 like I wanted to, I wouldn't have done a good job - there is no way I could have told that story until I was finally sober. If you listen closely to the AA meeting scenes between Riley and Father Paul throughout the series, you're basically looking directly into my conflicted brain over many, many years.

This year is my fifth year sober, and I spend my days happy, busy, and so grateful that I was able to make those changes before my drinking destroyed my career, my marriage, and my life. I was lucky. I am lucky. But since I finished Midnight Mass, I haven't felt that pull when I'm writing. I haven't felt those themes elbowing their way into my work. That part of me is still in here (it always will be), but I feel like I was somehow able, over many years, to coax it to sleep. I'm sure I'll return to those themes over the years, as I hope to learn more about myself and have more to say... but for now, those voices are peaceful and quiet. I have projects on the horizon that will touch on some of those things (if I'm able to make The Dark Tower, there's some wonderful elements with Eddie's addiction issues that I look forward to exploring) but it feels different.

One of the things I hold onto when I look back at that time is the hope that the work can be helpful to someone else who may struggle in a similar way. And talking to fans, I've heard here and there that it has, and that means the world to me. I think storytellers can't help but use their stories as a mirror, it's one of the ways we take ourselves apart, look at the pieces, and put them back. It's one of the only ways we can see ourselves clearly.

Sometimes we don't even realize we're doing it. It's only looking back that we can see ourselves, and our work, with any real clarity.

#midnight mass #alcoholism #sobriety

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every-aj-needs-an-angel · 1 year

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I read this amazing idea and this sorta wrote itself. I hope it's everything you were hoping for @piratefishmama

"ugh. fuck," Steve groaned into his pillow. He'd never felt worse.

What the hell happened last night?

It was dark, but there was daylight trying to peek through the curtains, so it must be morning.

Wait. Curtains?

Steve didn't own curtains, and neither did Robin.

Steve tried to focus his alcohol-soaked brain on his surroundings; he was in a hotel room, that much was obvious, and there was a napkin sitting under last night's wine glass on the bedside table, but as he reached over to rescue it, Steve caught a glimpse of a ring on his finger. Weird. Steve didn't often wear jewellery, rarely ever wore rings but... ah! Vegas!

Of course! Their post-firing Vegas trip. Steve turned his head on the pillow and automatically regretted it.

"ugh. robin," Steve murmured, "Robin," he tried a bit louder. She was still ignoring him, curled up in all the blankets, sleeping peacefully when Steve was suffering. Such a blanket hog, Steve thought churlishly. "ROBIN! Ow, fuck!" Steve hid his face back in his pillow, shouting was not the way to go.

"stop yelling," the body in the blankets grouched. Because holy fuck that most definitely was not Robin! "Who the fuck is Robin?" the guy groaned, finally deigning to stick his head out of the covers.

Steve lifted his head and blinked owlishly. That was a face he most definitely did not know. Jesus Christ! Steve launched himself upright, only just realising that he was fucking starkers in bed with a complete stranger. "Who the fuck are you?"

The guy had the nerve to smirk as Steve tried and failed to cover his modesty, but at least had the decency to pretend to be removing the sleep from his eyes in order to give him a modicum of privacy.

"Eddie," he introduced with a half-wave, that stupid grin still gracing his lovely features, "wha' 'bout you, Big Boy?" Eddie asked, cheekily waggling his eyebrows at Steve.

Steve could feel the blush burning his cheeks, he didn’t have control of enough of his faculties to deal with this, going home and pretending this never happened seemed like a great idea right about now. Steve slid himself to the edge of the bed, placing his head delicately in his hands, gearing himself up to get moving, preferably without seeing the contents of his stomach. “Steve,” he muttered.

He could hear movement from the other side of the bed, the sheets moving sounding like Eddie was rolling a dumper truck through the room, followed by a blissful silence that was only broken by a quiet "err, Steve?"

"yeah?" he whispered, not that it really did anything to ease the throbbing in his skull.

Eddie moved again and when Steve looked over, Eddie had leaned across the bed onto the pillow Steve had vacated, trying to get a better look at his hunched form, worrying his lip. Odd, he doesn't seem the type. "You aren't- are you? Wearing a ring?"

Huh? Steve's eyebrows scrunched together, he's not exactly used to waking up in bed with a stranger, but minor lifestyle choices aren't one of Steve's main concerns right now. "Yeah. Why? Men can't wear jewellery?" Steve sniped.

Eddie rolled his eyes so hard he was in danger of losing them, lifting both hands to show Steve the many rings he wore on his fingers. "No. Don't be dense!" Eddie reproached, waited a moment and sighed deeply at Steve's visible confusion, "Look at the finger it's on."

Shifting his left hand in front of his face, Steve glared at the plain gold band glinting up at him from his ring finger. It took a second but when the realisation finally dawned it knocked all the breath out of him, "oh. shit."

Steve looked over at Eddie wide-eyed to find him nodding in agreement with the sentiment. "Yeah. Oh. Shit." Eddie echoed.

This just didn't make sense! It'd been a long time since Steve had consumed so much alcohol, he probably hadn't been that drunk since high school, yet somehow someone thought he was in a fit state to enter into a legal contract! "I don't even- they can't've let us? We were drunk!"

Eddie just shrugs, doesn't look even nearly upset enough for Steve's liking. Steve glares at him trying to convey how insane this situation is, Eddie just gives him a look that says "it is what it is". Steve continued glaring, an internal monologue of this is insane, why aren't you freaking out? I'm freaking out! We're strangers and now we're married and oh god we're gonna have to get divorced! I'm gonna be divorced! I don't wanna be divorced! which clearly just frustrates him because Eddie just throws his hands in the air and shouts, "We're in Vegas!"

And suddenly all the fight sucks out of Steve, he slumps back over covering his face with his hands, feeling the slide of metal against his cheek and mutters "fuck. we're in vegas."

But he didn't come here alone! Robin! His best friend and platonic soul mate. And oh how Steve adores her because she's smart, she'll know what to do! "I need to find Robin!" Steve decides, jumping up off the bed, and immediately standing perfectly still so the room stops spinning. I just need to get dressed and find Robin, she'll know how to fix this!

Eddie still hasn't moved from his spot, lounging elegantly across the pillows, the sheet draped gracefully over him like some kind of artist's model. He raises a judgemental eyebrow at Steve, "Robin?"

Unhooking his jeans from the lampshade, Steve grins at Eddie, he's not the first person to assume they're an item. "My best friend," Steve clarifies, but Eddie doesn't look convinced, if anything he looks even more pissed off, his face doing that complicated, pissed off, 'I'm assuming I'm being lied to', twist snarl.

Steve looks, really looks, at Eddie. Steve doesn't know much about him, other than the fact that he's incredibly pretty because really eyes that big and beautiful should only be allowed on magazine covers! He's completely covered in tattoos, which is so hot, not to mention those rings! And he's cheeky as fuck and absolutely unafraid to stand up for himself, which is a first for Steve. People who don't know him usually find him a little intimidating, which is insane, but Robin assures him it's a them thing, not a him thing. And although that's barely anything to know about a person, Steve'd already dearly love to know who'd dare to hurt him, he'd just like to chat, honest. "She's a lesbian," he adds, just to really drive his point home.

It seems to surprise Eddie, his eyebrows shoot up before he grins back at Steve, all teeth and sparkling eyes, trying to hide his face in his mane! Because that's really the only way to describe the majesty of his hair. And oh he's blushing, that's adorable. Eddie clears his throat, sitting up a little straighter, "oh. Yeah. I should probably find Chris," he agrees like he's saying what he's thinking out loud, quickly clarifying, "she also likes women."

They're smiling gently at one another when the phone starts to ring, Steve striding back to the bedside to answer it, hearing Robin shout "Steveeeeee!!"

That sets the ringing off in Steve's ears again, ow! "Robin, shh!" Steve chastises.

Robin's uninhibited by Steve's grouchiness, "I just wanted to say... Congratulations!" she singsongs.

"You know about that?!" Steve's utterly bewildered, surely she wouldn't...

"We were there!" she shouts excitably, as though she'd personally been invited to Area 51, instead of witnessing something as stupid as Steve getting married, while too drunk to even remember the name of his husband.

husband! Steve thinks pathetically.

"we?" he asks meekly, hoping beyond hope he hadn't done something ridiculous like invite his mother or his ex.

"Me and Chris!" Robin shouts, in the background he hears another voice woo-hoo and then say something incomprehensible that makes Robin giggle.

Steve sighs, rolls his eyes because of course! And purposefully catching his eye, smiles exasperatedly at Eddie, "they're together," he informs him.

Eddie snorts a laugh and shrugs, "makes sense," he murmurs as though this is all completely normal behaviour. Maybe it is for them, Steve doesn't bloody know.

Turning back to his phone conversation, Steve asks, "Why'd you let me do that, Rob?" It comes out as whiny and pathetic as he feels, forcefully rubbing his forehead to try to ease the tension building there.

Robin barks a laugh, and she's right it is funny, no one's ever been able to stop Steve from doing anything he set his mind to. Doesn't mean he doesn't want someone else to blame for the fact that he doesn't remember his own wedding and that he's going to be divorced before he's thirty!

"You're in LOVE, Stevie! Who am I to stand in the way of love?"

Robin always manages to explain the most bizarre things as though they're completely ordinary, making them sound almost reasonable. It baffles Steve every damn time. Like she just said "You were sick Steve, so I took you to the doctor" instead of "You're in love with someone you met yesterday, so the obvious solution was a drunken wedding"!

Steve sighed, trying not to be annoyed with her, "Bobbie, I met Eddie less than 24 hours ago! What am I, a fucking Disney Princess?" the vitriol soaking his words would've upset most people, but Robin never flinched, even when he was being the world's biggest dick.

He could practically hear her eye roll through the phone, "No Dingus, you're not a Princess!" she sounded almost sympathetic for a second, but she couldn't hold back the bubble of laughter, "You're a King!" she proclaimed, cackling so hard she snorted.

She hadn't let up about "King Steve" since she’d found his yearbook, signed by all his dickhead "friends". She thought high school cliques were ridiculous, thought prom was even worse, and the idea that Steve had been so popular he'd been elected as an imaginary sovereign as part of their fabricated hierarchy had her rolling around the floor laughing for a solid ten minutes.

"Jesus Christ!" Steve muttered pinching the bridge of his nose, nothing was ever as funny as she thought it was when she was drunk, especially not when she was funny-drunk and he wasn't nearly drunk enough.

Robin stopped laughing abruptly and gasped as though she'd forgotten something. "Steve. Stevie. Evievievie! Guess what, I haven't been to bed yet!" she declared proudly. Steve had no idea what time it was, but as far as he knew the last time she'd slept had been on the plane, and that hadn't exactly been for very long.

"Maybe it's time for bed then?" Steve reasoned, trying to hold on to the last of his patience.

"No! Nooo, I'm with a girl," she whispered conspiratorially. oh jesus! Like he didn't know that!

He was far too sober for this Robin, it was fine when she'd do it in a club, wander over and be all "Steve, I've been dancing with a girl!" mainly because he was drunk enough to join in with her level of wonderment (even though he'd just watched her do it). Right now though, with the weight of his life choices on his shoulders, trying to wrangle his best friend was driving him slightly mad.

"I know," he whispered back. He could hear the pings and dings of the casino in the background, but other than her gentle breathing, Robin had gone suddenly eerily quiet.

He was just about to ask if she'd nodded off upright (it wouldn't be the first time) when Robin and Chris whined loudly, "We're bored, Steve!" jesus fuck! He had to move the phone away from his ear, so his skull didn't crack open. The fact that they said it simultaneously being equal parts creepy and adorable.

It was then that Eddie's stomach rumbled noisily, he'd been quiet and still the whole time Steve was on the phone, not even looking in his direction apart from when Steve spoke directly to him. That was until Steve's stomach grumbled in agreement, Eddie glancing up at Steve through his lashes, amusement dancing in his eyes and god when he smiled like that!

When was the last time any of them ate? Robin hadn't shut up about Vegas' newest waffle place (that had basically inspired the whole trip) since she'd heard about it from Gina in accounting. Maybe some food would do them all some good.

"What about some breakfast?" Steve suggested, he still had his eyes locked with Eddie's and found he wasn't just talking to Robin. Eddie nodded coyly, getting off the bed to gather his clothes from wherever they'd been flung.

"Oooh!! That's a great idea! You're so smart, Steve! I love you!" Robin squealed in his ear and Steve yanked his eyes away from Eddie as he sauntered naked around the room, staring purposefully at the napkin on the bedside, absentmindedly playing with the ring on his finger.

"I love you, too. You going for waffles?"

Steve liked to check in, it wasn't that he thought Robin was incapable of taking care of herself. He just worried. The love he felt for his found family had a depth he'd never thought himself capable of, and Steve didn't even know who he'd be without Robin by his side.

But Robin always knew him better than he knew himself, could practically taste the pensive thoughts through the line, "We're going for waffles, Dingus! Don't forget your husband!" she yelled and hung up.

"jesus fucking christ!" he muttered to himself, putting the phone down.

A husband! Steve didn't even have a job, let alone a career, but he somehow now had a husband. And the thing was, Steve couldn't even say he hated the idea. He didn't particularly like the idea of marrying someone he couldn't remember knowing, but he knew he'd always been one to fall too hard, too fast. His fuckbuddies were different, he could separate his emotions from sex under that context but the moment an actual relationship was mentioned suddenly Steve was all-in.

Maybe Eddie was an all-in kinda guy too?

Eddie had seemed flustered at first but he relaxed into it pretty quickly. It was intriguing to meet someone so laidback and spontaneous. Steve and Robin were always pretty happy-go-lucky, jumping from job to job without giving it much thought. But out of everyone they knew, they seemed to be the outliers, it was nice to meet such a free spirit.

Not that Steve had always been this way, of course, it was all Robin's good influence. From as small as he could remember his parents had brought him up to care more about what everyone else thought, than about his own thoughts, wants and opinions and honestly, it had him wound tighter than a springboard for the first twenty years of his life.

It was Robin who'd taught him that it was okay to do what he wanted to do, when he wanted to do it, that what he wanted mattered. It took a while but she got him to get to know himself, the real him, not the guy his parents wanted him to be. Steve kinda hoped he’d be able to get to know Eddie, like really get to know him, beyond just breakfast with their respective best friends.

Speaking of, Steve looked around to find Eddie had left the bathroom door wide open, a clear invitation to join him. Steve faltered for a second because they should probably talk first but honestly, it'd been a long time since Steve had felt as good as he did when Eddie smiled at him and he was kind of sick of denying himself things that felt good.

Fuck it!

As he shuffled towards the bathroom, Steve rescued the rest of his clothes from the floor, his shirt was still tucked inside his jacket, dropped carelessly just inside the room door. A vision flashed in Steve's mind, he and Eddie in the lift, he was shirtless and rutting against Eddie as they frantically made out, watching in the mirror behind him as Eddie licked and nibbled down his neck.

Holy shit! Steve had only ever that horny for someone in public in the relative privacy of a club bathroom stall. Anyone could've joined them in that elevator, hell there might've been someone in there with them, he didn't think there was but he couldn't remember. They were lucky they hadn't been arrested! Anywhere else and they might've been, but luckily Vegas was well known as the City of Sin. Hopefully, the hotel security were just used to it.

There was steam pouring from the bathroom by the time he'd pulled himself from his musings, the mirror above the sink showing nothing but a blurry outline of himself, not that he needed it to know he looked rough. The shower door, like the bathroom one, had purposefully been left wide open, steam billowing out along with Eddie's voice.

Because Eddie was singing, loud and angelic, over the sounds of the shower. It wasn't a song Steve recognised, something about the sun, the moon and a seal, Eddie could've been making it up for all he knew. Not that Steve cared, it was sublime. Pulling him in like a siren song, Steve couldn't help himself, he just kept inching closer.

And as heavenly as Eddie’s voice was, which was truly one of the most exquisite voices Steve had ever heard. It was nothing in comparison to the vision Steve was greeted with as he finally reached the shower. Eddie had his head tipped back, rinsing Steve's expensive shampoo out of his hair, the length of his neck alone had Steve salivating. There was a little tattoo poking out from under his earlobe that was practically begging to be investigated. And a single freckle sitting just to the left of his sternum that he felt the overwhelming urge to lick.

Steve didn't get more than a cursory glance at the rest of him because it was then that Eddie straightened up as though he'd sensed Steve's presence. As he wiped the excess water from his face with his hands, Steve noticed that Eddie had removed all of his rings except the shiny gold band that joined them, almost like he hadn't wanted to take it off.

Another vision came to him, of him sliding that very ring onto Eddie's finger, of him taking Eddie's hand and kissing the still cold metal, glancing up at a grinning, misty-eyed Eddie through his lashes, an overwhelming surge of joy exploding through his chest.

It made Steve giddy and he was suddenly unable to wipe the stupid smile off his face, Eddie beamed back, warm and inviting, little droplets of water catching in his eyelashes from the pressure of the spray hitting his skin as he'd watched Steve remember.

The breath was knocked out of him when he immediately felt the overwhelming need to touch Eddie, to be in his space, to kiss him so thoroughly that neither of them knew where one of them began and the other one ended.

And Eddie must be some kind of mind reader because a truly mischievous look overtook his features as he reached out his ringed hand to Steve's to yank him under the torrent and into his arms, giggling cheekily when he pushed Steve back against the freezing cold shower wall, happily swallowing Steve's shocked gasp.

Part 2

#i wrote so much i had to split it into chapters #i apologise in advance for all the tense changes and terrible grammar if i proof read this again it'll end up in the bin #the song eddie is singing is n.i.b by black sabbath if anyone is interested #steddie vegas au #steddie au #steddie #platonic stobin #platonic eddissy #steve harrington #eddie munson #robin buckley #chrissy cunningham #steve's pov #steve x eddie #eddie x steve #aj writes

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kooberist · 4 days

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. . .𝗧𝗔𝗣𝗘 𝟬𝟭 - GROUPIE - TRAILER!

17:30 ━━━━⬤─────── 34:07

ᯓ★ a/n: I know havent posted in like 4 months or something but inspo struck me last night. Please do understand this is based off the infamous groupie tape by marilyn manson. Yes im well aware of what he did and what role the groupie tape had in the trail. No i do not support that man but the idea of groupie was just so cool. This is all fiction < 3. All of that is old shit i wrote 2 months ago when i started to write this then i took a break and now im wondering if i should finish.

ᯓ★ Warnings : drugging, non con, r*pe, bondage, talks about jesus during sex, violence towards reader, blood, gun play, 18 year old reader, recording, spanking, slight somnophilia, underage drinking, mentions of satanism/devil worship, virginity loss, THIS IS FICTION!!!! Btw if you click that link heres tw because.....its crazy (you can only hear)

A slim, long finger pushes the VHS tape into the player. Click. The tape is in and will begin playing the video shortly.

The 30 minute tape is cut short at 17 mins as the lady on the couch pauses it.

"You can never release this. If this ever reaches the media you will be fucking over. I mean it"

The lady's eyes were filled with fear as she spoke, her voice barely above a whisper. The man standing behind her nodded solemnly, clearly understanding the seriousness of her words. He reached for the remote and turned off the TV, the screen going black as the room fell silent. The tape was carefully removed from the player and hidden away; the secret it held was locked tight.

The house is loud. Music is loud as drunk rockers dance with girls and, most likely, high-ranking groupies. A small girl is navigating her way through the crowd of people to the stairs. Your arms are full as you carry a big painting. This would be the day she met her idol. Up the stairs and now in front of a hallway of rooms, you just had to find out which one Hoseok was in.

Knocking on a door to get nothing then opeing another to see a group orgy. Lets act like you didn't see that. Shutting the door quickly your small frame walks over to the next door.

Knock.

You open the door to see a man with dark long strands with his nose to a table. He looks up, coke on his nose. Its him. The man on the painting you had.

"Are you Hoseok?" you ask tentatively, trying to keep your voice steady despite the nerves that were starting to build up inside you. The man nods slowly, a small smirk playing on his lips as he gestures for you to come in. You step into the room, your heart racing with excitement and uncertainty, unsure of what is to come next. This was the moment you had been waiting for—the moment when you would finally come face-to-face with the man who had consumed your thoughts and dreams for so long.

The man stands up. His heavy boots hit the crusty and creaky wooden floor boards. He guides you into the room and closes the door behind you.

There is no way you were a groupie. This was no slut. But a girl who could only dream of being a groupie. "sit down" he commands, his deep voice sending shivers down your spine. As you take a seat, you can't help but feel a surge of adrenaline mixed with fear. What did he want from you? Your mind races with possibilities as you wait for him to break the silence and reveal his intentions. But one thing was for certain—you were no longer just a fan, you were in the presence of the man himself, and the reality was both exhilarating and intimidating.

"Are you here to suck my dick?" Hoseok says nonchilantly

his eyes piercing into yours with a mix of curiosity and amusement. Your heart races at his blunt question, unsure of how to respond. You had fantasized about meeting him and being close to him, but you never expected this level of directness. The air between you crackles with tension as you search for the right words and the right way to navigate this unexpected turn of events. Your mind races, trying to process the sudden shift in the dynamic between you.

"N-no. I wanted to give you this." You shyly speak as you hand him the pants with his face on them.

"What good are you if you aren't here to suck my dick?! You interrupted my lines to show me this weak ass painting?". You feel a wave of shock and embarrassment wash over you as his harsh words hit you like a punch to the gut. The fantasy you had built up in your mind shatters in an instant, leaving you feeling exposed and vulnerable. You struggle to find your voice, feeling small and insignificant in his presence. The weight of his expectations hangs heavy in the air, and you realize that the reality of the situation is far from the dream you had envisioned.

You struggle to find your voice, feeling small and insignificant in his presence. The weight of his expectations hangs heavy in the air, and you realize that the reality of the situation is far from the dream you had envisioned. You get up to go, trying not to cry, but his cold hands grab you.

His hand locked on your delicate wrist as he brought his other hand to your face with a loud smack. Cheek red with his hand print, you stand there in shock, unable to comprehend what just happened. His sudden violence sends a wave of fear through your body, and you can feel your heart pounding in your chest.

The pain in your cheek serves as a stark reminder that this man is not who you thought he was. As you struggle to break free from his grip, you realize that the fantasy you had built up in your mind has turned into a nightmare. You gather your strength, and with a newfound determination, you finally break free and run, leaving behind the shattered remains of your once beautiful dream. "Such a fucking slut " he spat. "Coming into my room acting like you didn't come here to take this dick."

"You think guys are going to want to fuck you?" His hands are grabbing at your tits through your cotton dress. "Stop!" You scream, pushing him away with all your might. Tears stream down your face as you scramble to get away from him. He overpowers you and keeps grabbing. "You think you're going to get married and have a nice family?" You fight back with all the strength you have left. "STOP!" You scream loudly, but he brings his hand back to your face to shut you up. "Sit down." He pushes you into a leather chair, and you feel trapped and helpless. His words ring in your ears, and his hands are still lingering on your body. You know you have to get out, but fear paralyzes you.

He brings rope to you, and before you know it, you are tied down to the chair , unable to move or escape. Tears stream down your face as you realize the severity of the situation.

The feeling of helplessness weighs heavily on you as you struggle against the restraints, but deep down, you know you must stay calm and think of a way to free yourself. Your mind races with thoughts of how to outsmart him and break free from his hold, but the fear of what he might do next keeps you frozen in place. It's a battle of wills, and you know you have to find a way to survive this terrifying ordeal.

Hoseok turns away to grab his pill bottle, emptying the lat 2 in his hand. "Open your fucking mouth." As he approaches you with the pills in hand, a sense of dread washes over you. You know you cannot consume whatever is in those capsules, but you also know that refusing him might lead to consequences you cannot bear to think about. With a deep breath, you muster the courage to speak up, "I won't do it.”

His eyes meet yours with a mixture of anger and disappointment, but you stand your ground, determined to fight against his control. In that moment, you realize that survival means more than just physical escape; it also means holding onto your own agency and resisting his attempts to break you. His strong hand grips your mouth and forces your jaw open.

You scream and scream, but he shoves the pills in. His pretty finger is pushing down your throat to make sure you take it , choking and gagging as you struggle against his relentless hold. As the pills slide down your throat, you feel a sense of defeat wash over you. But deep down, a fire ignites within you, fueling your determination to never let him control you again. He started to untie the rope and free you from the chair. He knows you will try to escape him again.

TO BE CONTINUED!

©️KOOBERIST 2024

#bts #bts smut #smut #jhope smut #jungkook x reader #taehyung smut #jimin smut #jhope x reader #hoseok smut #hoseok x reader #hobi smut #hobi x reader #jung hoseok #jung hoseok smut #jung hoseok x reader #fyp #bts dead dove do not eat #jungkook smut

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catsfor2 · 1 year

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hands ellie x artist!fem!reader

pt2 but can be read standalone pt 1 an: shocked to see the interaction on my first post (also super, super happy, ty :))honestly, i like this part more than the first one i wrote. pls. pls request/submit asks, i will gladly do them ! !

@prettyplant0

warnings: UNEDITED, mild smut, fluff, hand + finger kink, mild drug use (alcohol + weed)

You were undoubtedly not a party person. Not that you'd really had the chance to figure that out too many times, but after the first 20 minutes of tonight, you knew for sure.

Ellie however? Not the life of the party or anything, but the loose and confident energy she held was undeniable. She had the ability to make you swoon from across the room. And clearly the rest of Jackson has also noticed, as they huddle around her almost magnetically.

You absolutely were not trying to avoid anyone, but somehow, you have been left out. Sidelined. Othered. It's strange, as most of the town had quickly familiarized themselves with you and your creativity. But now, in this tattered party shack off the edge of the woods, you were nobody again.

"Hey! Hey! Are you fucking listening?"

Suddenly, Ellie's in your face, waving her bottle of beer around as she shouts. She laughs before taking another swig. "Are you thereee?"

"Oh fuck, sorry. Kind of zoned out I guess." You say.

"I see that. Why are you over here?" She asks.

"I don't know, I kind of-"

She cuts you off by grabbing your arm and hoisting you off the low couch. She pulls hard enough to hurt.

"Doesn't matter- we're playing pong. You don't need to do anything, I just need a partner, so..."

"Yeah, fine. Are you, like, drunk drunk? Right now?" You question, almost regretfully, not wanting to overstep. It's just that her hands are climbing up and down your arms, mindlessly, almost like she just can't help but to feel your skin.

"Well...ha...kinda," She rolls her eyes, "why?"

Before you can answer she speaks again, the hand resting on your shoulder starting to drift upwards towards your ear.

"Actually- don't tell Dina- but I'm kinda high right now also," She says, her voice getting quieter as she continues. Her fingers fiddle with the jewelry on your left ear again. You changed them for the party, (something almost unnoticeable to the average person) but Ellie can't seem to keep her hands off of them.

You pause.

"Um, why shouldn't I tell her?"

Ellie stares at you for a moment, like she's deciding on whether or not to tell you the truth. It almost hurts to see her not automatically say what's on her mind.

"Cause last night I got fuckin- I got fucked up, basically. Dina made me promise to not drink and smoke together again,"

Her hand inches up to your forehead as she talks, where her thumb starts to fidget with the clips spread through your hair.

"And Dina always tells me, 'Ellie you're like an insecure guy when you drink. Always trying to pick people up and lift random shit,'" She takes the last swig of her beer before tossing the bottle on the couch.

"And yeah, I do that, but at-"

"Get in here dicks, pong's starting!" A voice yells, cutting Ellie off.

Jesse whips a ping pong ball at the back of Ellie's head, successfully taking her attention from you. He quickly picks it up before letting out a warm drunken laugh.

"Oh shit, is Ellie putting the moves on you? Y'know more than three beers and she's-"

"Shut the fuck up Jesse. Y/N, lets go.

Jesse just laughs again while Ellie grabs your hand to lead you to the kitchen.

"You didn't mention that Ellie," You look up at her, hyper-aware of how often she stares at your lips ever since that morning in her house. "are you a player?"

She scoffs before flicking your head.

"Uh, no. I just...like talking to pretty girls at parties," Her flannel whips behind her as you finally enter the kitchen. "is that a fucking crime or something?"

People crowd around a table, set with various cups, all filled slightly with some sort of liquor. Dina and Jesse stand at the other end of the table, attempting to un-dent the only ping pong ball they've found so far.

Ellie's arm snakes around your waist before you hear her voice beside you.

"I might need to hold onto you, by the way, I've had--like--four beers and a shot."

Your face heats as you think of all the people in the room seeing her arm wrapped so tightly around your midsection. As you fumble to say yeah, of course Ellie, she glues the side of her body to yours, making sure her hand stays firmly on your waist.

Ellie almost falls over trying to get closer edge of the table.

"Hey everyone! Hey! From now on, y/n is my designated pong partner! No fuckin' arguments."

A shocked laugh escapes you immediately.

"Ellie!...Jesus..."

"What? You're my girl right? I've got to let 'em know you're my girl," She assures.

"Well with the way you've been holding me..."

Ellie's smile widens.

"I feel like they'd figure it out..." You finish.

"Yeah? And how have I been holding you?"

Your eyes dart back to Dina and Jesse and all the other people in the room before meeting up with hers again.

"Like...like I'm gonna...run away, or something," You say.

"Yeah, well...what if you do?" Her grip on you loosens just a bit. "You did the other morning. You were all yes Ellie, touch me, and then when I went for the pencils and came back you were gone!"

Your blushed cheeks turn an even darker shade of red. Your voice comes out slightly shaky when you talk.

"I--I got nervous! I'm sorry! And with the way you were so mad at first?"

You let out a breath of air you didn't realize you'd been holding. "I was questioning if you really wanted me there at all."

Her eyebrows crease. Then, almost as if to block you from view, she turns the both of you so that your back is facing the wall closest by. Her face gets near enough to yours that you smell the yeasty tang of those four beers on her tongue.

"Oh sweetheart. I almost fingered you after knowing you for like, 10 minutes. You think I don't want you?"

Your skin warms as you process what she's saying. You want to back up and let her crowd you against the wall. The way her hips shift against yours, not touching but close enough to feel every jut sets your insides buzzing. You can't repress a shiver from the sensation. Or the cold- your skirt is on the shorter side.

"Reeally cute when you get speechless like that," Ellie breaths out, tugging at the neck of her flannel and taking it off. "here. Since you wanted to wear something you know you'd freeze in. Like an idiot."

You spacily grab it out of her hands, and as you do, she takes it back from your grasp while shaking her head.

"I got it. Arms out, c'mon," as she starts to put her flannel over your shoulders, she continues. "I have an idea. How about weee...ditch this party. And smoke the joint I have hidden in the shed right now."

"Are you sure? You're already pretty drunk-"

"I won't smoke that much. Maybe a hit or two. I'll let you have most of it," She grins.

Reluctant to make her miss the rest of the party and lively night in general, you keep pushing.

"Yeah, but, the pong game? Right?"

Ellie laughs, throwing her arm around your shoulders and resting it there. Her bicep being so close to your face makes you dizzy. It feels dirty to admit you don't mind how strong she smells there--unsurprising after a night of partying.

"Just let me treat you, alright? High under the stars. Forget about your worries. That kinda shit." Her finger twirls a strand of your hair as she waits for you to answer.

"Yeah. Of course. That sounds really...lovely." You say, too focused on the weight of her body across your back.

"Ok. Good. Great. I'm gonna tell Dina we're going."

Instead of walking over to Dina, Ellie simply screams over the jumble of conversation until Dina hears, and responds, also screaming across the noise.

"Perfect. Let's head out, pretty lady."

-------------------------------------------------------------

You've only taken three hits, but you know you feel something. The greeny ash taste in your throat hasn't gone away, despite you consistently sipping your water.

"How's it feeling?" Ellie asks you, relishing in her fourth puff despite telling you earlier she would take less. You don't mind.

You'd both been slouched on the floor upon a blanket, picnic style, Ellie leaned against your side and her hand starting to creep up the outside of your thigh.

"Good...I guess. I feel warm. Like, cozy." And you did.

Truthfully, you were also a bit on edge. Like, sexually on edge. The blanket heat of the weed with Ellie's presence has you constantly wet and burning. Aching. Of course, that's not something you'd tell Ellie.

"Are you gonna teach me how to roll it?" You ask. "I want to do it next time."

"Next time?" She questions, dramatically opening her eyes.

"I, I mean, you want to hang out with me again...right?"

"Obviously! I'm fuckin' with you," she covers her mouth to laugh before grabbing your hand.

"And, no, I'm not teachin' you how to roll. I'll do it for you. No need for you to learn sweetheart."

When Ellie says things so simply like that, especially in that tone, you have no choice but to go along. You can't bring yourself to push back against something that makes you feel so tingly.

"Oh. Ok." You mumble, staring at her hand encompassing yours.

"It's far easier to just let my hands do all the work," She squeezes your thumb. "right?"

"Yeah-yes. Far easier." You say.

Ellie drags her thumb across your knuckles. Her eyelids droop slightly, eyes shaded a light pink, and her is face flushed from the alcohol. She's so, so beautiful, and you wish you could will the courage to tell her.

"I wore the skirt 'cause I thought you'd like it." You voice, eyes unable to meet her's as you talk. "Do you?"

She lets out a breath.

"Fuck. Fuck, of course I fucking like it. You're so pretty in it." Her hand inches under your skirt, finally grasping towards your upper thigh and edging the hem of your panties.

A brisk exhale escapes your lips as her fingers drift, navigating the plush of your hips expertly. As if she's already planned on where and how to touch you.

"Hey where'd you go? Keep your hand on mine," Ellie grabs your loose hand, which had wandered to your side, and places it firmly on her hand grasping your underwear. "and don't let go."

"Ellie..." you huff, burning hot all over.

"What, this is too much for you? I haven't even done anything yet."

You feel her palm, big and warm, cup you through the fabric and knead, forcefully but slowly rubbing your clit and watching your face for a reaction. Your hand still clutches over hers and you can feel her muscles flex in tune with the heavy pressure on your folds.

Your mouth parts open, lips shiny and untouched as your head looms closer to Ellie's. Her eyes remain locked on yours as her fingers move faster, and it becomes difficult for you to keep your hand on hers as she speeds up.

"Hah--Ellie," You gasp, eyes a bit watery from the sudden stimulation.

Something in her eyes shift and her face is moving closer to yours, her free hand enveloping one side of your face. Ellie kisses you hastily, smearing saliva over both of your mouths. Your teeth clack together, and her tongue is rampant, licking deeply into the kiss. She sucks and bites at your lips, ravaging them, while her other hand still palms you consistently, the strength of her entire arm grinding against your pussy.

The hand on your face reaches to fondle your breast, clawing at your shirt with force to feel underneath your bra. Her hand, despite its size compared to yours, still can't grab your entire breast. Ellie lets out a groan at the sight of you spilling out of her fingers.

Interrupting the both of you, a small metal trinket falls out of the band of your bra and onto the floor.

"Oh--shit, I forgot I was keeping that there," You say, immediately picking it up and holding it to your side.

"Uhm...what is that?" Ellie asks, eyes still partly drawn to where your skirt has ridden up, exposing a part of your ass.

You notice her gaze and mindlessly fix your skirt before picking the item up. The star-shaped rock on the front of the ring took you hours to tediously chip down due to the tiny size. It was worth it to possibly please Ellie.

"It's--well, remember the ring?" You rotate it forward, showing off the small star emblem like its a priceless diamond. "I made it. For you."

"Holy-holy shit! That's so fucking cute! You're so fuckin' cute!" She says in between short laughs. "I can't believe you actually like...made it." She puts the ring on the middle finger of her left hand, pleased with the way it fits perfectly.

"Y'know, now, you jus need to wear something that has a star like mine. So we match."

Her words make you smile wide, also while painting your face rose.

"I actually—my belly," You lift your shirt a tad, exposing the bottom lace of your bra but also the tiny piercing on your bellybutton. "the shape is a star, but-I swear, completely unintentional."

"Oh, shit. That's...cute." She murmurs, leaning closer to your stomach to give it a kiss. "Yeah, 'unintentional', my ass."

You slap her wrist lightly. "Oh shut up,"

Her hand again travels up your legs to reach your thigh, only to pause and retract for a moment. Ellie then takes the ring off of her left hand and triumphantly places it onto her right.

Oh.

"Ok, Ellie, that's like a tiny bit gross-"

"I'll clean it. I promise. I just feel like- I need to baptize it, or something, y'know?" She assures, lips curving up into a sly smile.

"Shut up." You quip. "You really must be high or something."

“We’re both high babe. It fucking reeks in here.”

#ellie x reader #ellie williams x reader #ellie tlou #ellie fic #ellie x fem reader #tlou #tlou part 2 #lesbian #catsfor2

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dirtybitfic · 3 months

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so wrong yet so right part 2

contains~ strong language, fight during lecture, punishment , dirty talk , slight touching.

y/n pov-

I woke up this morning exhausted i've been working on this god damn story for class the entire weekend . I couldn't figure out a feeling to portray in my writing , Saturday I spent sitting in my bed thinking about Professor sturniolo then I went out with friends got shit face drunk to try and distract myself from my thoughts then woke up on Sunday with a pounding head ache and spent most of my day rotting in bed . Sunday night it finally clicked what feeling to portray would be and that was confusion. Confusion with the way i'm feeling about my professor . Given I couldn't write my story about my thoughts about him because we're sharing these ones with the class too .

I grabbed all my shit for class and made my 8 minute drive to campus blasting desire by meg Myers.

After parking I made my way into the building and into the lecture hall. Walking into the quiet room joining the other early students deciding to sit closer to the front not because really want to but I feel its best after my conversation with professor sturniolo last week .

I sit down in the fifth row and take out my computer and the printed pages to my story for today .

As i'm reading something a friend texted me the rest of the students enter the lecture hall and take their seats and professor sturniolo comes in ... my jaw almost drops . He's wearing a white button down shirt with the sleeves rolled up showing off the tattoos he has on one arm and the veins that run from his large hands to his elbows the top two buttons open showing his chain . His black pants fitting perfectly around his slim waist and his black shoes looking clean and sleek ... but the rings I notice on his fingers make me think things I shouldn't .

I follow his every move with my eyes as he walks to the front of the class to his desk setting his bad down and looking up at all of us seated around the room.

Good evening everyone I hope you all had a good weekend . Lets get started with the rest of the story left from last class and then well move onto the story you've all written over the weekend.

he looks at me with a hard stare that has my breathe catching . I maintain eye contact until he breaks it to call up the first student to read their story.

after about 45 minutes we finish the stories that were left from last week and I take a quick break for the restroom then come back in as one of the students is reading their story , His feeling was jealousy .

Not gonna lie from what I heard of his story it was about an ex girlfriend who has a new boyfriend I couldn't help but laugh when his voice broke as he said something along the lines of " remember all the things you and I did first" all I couldn't hear in my head was want you back by Cher loyd .

his eyes snapped up to me and I froze in my seat .

are you laughing at my story he asks as he angrily looks at me

I guess I didn't laugh under my breathe like I thought I did .

yeah sorry ... I mean where did you get these line Cher loyd I say as I look at him with a smile on my face .

girls behind me laughed knowing what im talking about .

your a fucking bitch you think your better than me

I gasp making him think I was offended by his words before a smirk appeared on my face .

no I just think its embarrassing you wrote a dramatic fucking story about an ex girlfriend who has obviously moves on from you

he throws his papers on the ground storming up to where i'm seated but before he can reach me professor sturniolo interrupts .

James your excused from the rest of class you need to calm down... he snaps his eyes to me and my smile drops as his eyes pierce through me so harshly I feel it in my Bones . And ms y/l/n I don't know what has gotten into you today but you'll be staying after class to talk am I understood ?.

I roll my eyes and nod my head .

I asked you a question ms y/l/n he says making me look back up at him .

I narrow my eyes before answering him.

yes sir

good and since you want to shit on other peoples story how about we hear yours I obviously upset him with my outburst which in hind site I probably shouldn't have said that to James but i'm not sorry about it .

sure I say with an attitude as I garb my story and step up in front of the class and stand at the podium getting my pages situated .

whenever your ready he says making me sigh before I start reading

I stand In the garden as my mind runs wild with the memories of my interactions with mr braves earlier this evening. The breeze is blowing through the tress that surround me as the sweet smell of summer rain invades my nose. I cant get the feeling of his hand on my shoulder out of my head . His touch felt like lava burning through my skin touching my soul . His words like honey as he calls me things that he shouldn't , things that make me feel what others would deem immoral in society . The way mr braves is older than me should throw me off but it only makes my attraction to him stronger , I could go for any guy my age wether its at the bars Saturday night or in the coffee shop but ... the only man that occupies my mind is mr braves. Ive tried everything I can to get him out of my mind but my methods only seem to make it worse . As these weeks have gone by the connection has grown stronger , I tried distancing myself from spaces I know he occupies on a regular bases like this garden i'm standing in right now but I just cant seem to stay away for too long . I see the way he looks at me when I sit only a few feet away from him and I know he is feeling the same but we both know this relationship can never be . So why do I want him so bad , why does he invade my every thought .The rain starts pouring down on me as I tilt my head back to let the rain fall upon my face as I wish it would just wash away my sinful thoughts and feeling for this man I know I cant have but all i'm left with on my run home is confusion .

I finish reading as I look up at the other students in the class who seem to have been interested in my story as the nod at me . I look over to Professor Sturniolo as he looks at me with a expression I cant seem to place .

That was very well written y/n I could understand throughout the whole story that your feeling was confusion . Your vocabulary you used throughout set the scene of the garden and the time period it could have been set in. I think you did a great job at keeping the reader interested as well good gob

thank you I say with a small smile before grabbing my pages and sitting back down at my seat

After a couple more stories class was over and the students packed up and left leaving me and Professor Sturniolo in the room.

He leans back on his desk closing his arms over his chest as he looks at me sternly .

now would you like to explain what the fuck your little outburst was about he says tilting his head as I mirror his actions .

I don't know guess I was just feeling a little ... on edge

mmm well I thought after our last conversation you would know to behave yourself but I guess I was wrong

yeah guess so I bite back not enjoying him scolding me .

y/n ... he says as he takes a deep breathe to calm himself . fix your attitude before I fix it for you

I gulp as I try and keep my thighs from clenching not trying to show any reaction to his threat

oh yeah and how would you do that I ask which a smile seeing how much I can test him before he breaks.

he smiles and shakes his head as he looks down before he brings his eyes up to me .

trust me sweetheart you wouldn't like my methods ... now lets talk about your story a bit. Was that based off real life or did you makes it up

I look down at the ground as my face gets red .

it... I made it up

mmm okay he says as he walks over to me .

he stands in front of me and I look up at him as I swallow thickly trying to keep my composure .

he smirks down at me as he walks around the back of my chair and he places his hand on my shoulder . I sigh softly as I feel heat build in between my thighs from his touch.

he leans down and I feel his breathe on my neck and ear causing me to shiver.

does my touch feel like lava y/n he whispers in my ear causing me to let a small whimper out .

I - n-no I try and lie but my stuttering gives away my true feelings.

he chuckles before his hand slithers over my shoulder to my neck and he squeezes softly and I cant help the moan that slips out .

yeah ... I think you wrote that story thinking about me didn't you

I swallow against his hand as I shake my head but we both know he's right.

try to deny it all you want but you and I both know ... im your mr braves

I sigh expecting the fact I cant hide it.

even if your right you my presser its not right

isn't that just so upsetting he sighs as he takes his hand off me .

I drop my head looking at the desk not wanting to meet his eyes as he walks back in front of me .

now next class are you gonna be my good girl ... his hand moves to my thigh and I look up at him with widened eyes in shock of what he's doing. or are you gonna act like brat again

I- ill be good

no... I wanna hear you say you'll be my good girl he says as he squeezes my inner thigh making me whine and drop my head back .

ill be your good girl I breathe out as his hand moves dangerously close to my heat.

good girl now go home and start a new story ... maybe write it about mr.braves he says with a knowing smirk .

I sigh when his hands leaves my thigh and he makes his way back to his desk packing up his stuff .

I grab my stuff and makes my way out of the room but stop when he calls my name.

oh and y/n

yes

make sure to throw in some degrading and bondage in your next story I hear mr braves is more of the dominant type

my jaw drops as my pussy flutters . he smirks at me as he makes his way to the other door at the bottom of the room

I quickly exit as my thoughts run wild . He quite literally just referred to himself as mr braves and told me something he definitely shouldn't have but Jesus Christ does knowing that information drive me wild.

I race home and immediately got too writing my next story and after finishing my 6 page story felt with the most horny story I think i've ever written I send it to him and close my laptop.

I hop in the shower then get ready for bed when my phone rings as I got to turn off my bed side lamp .

it's an unknown number but I decide to pick it up .

hello ?

Hello ms y/l/n

its him ... how the fuck did he get my number

professor sturniolo... how did you get my number?

We have your emails and numbers on a sheet when your in our classes

oh... well what can I do for you

you can get in your car and drive to the address I just sent you

w-what are you... its 2 am right now

y/n ... you better be in your fucking car in the next 5 minutes or you'll stay after for the next 6 classes

what - why i'm in bed in my pajamas right now you think I can get ready in 5 minutes I say frantically freaking out .

I don't care what you look like all I know is that if I don't see your car pull up in the next 30 minutes I will be angry... you don't want to make me angry do you

n-no sir

good then get your ass out of bed and start driving here

then he hangs up leaving me confused and intrigued .

I know if I get in the car there will be no going back from anything that happens tonight… but I want it more than anything .

As my keys turn and the engine roars a smile breaks upon my face …

Professor sturniolo here I come

Tags-

@blahbel668 , @sturnsjtop @skyslondon

#matt sturniolo #fanfiction #smut #spotify

63 notes · View notes

techhasmjolnir · 5 months

Text

Trivial Pursuit

Plot: It is a dark, stormy night... Wait, let's not use that trope for the millionth time, shall we?

You're home alone thinking your plans for the night are cancelled, but things change quickly when Tech comes home late and wants to pursue what the two of you originally planned...with a major twist neither of you envision.

Author's Notes:

This is my first time crafting a Bad Batch story, let alone a smutty one. I wrote this after receiving inspiration and encouragement from a friend of mine, and I'm quite proud of the final result. I usually don't write anything on a very short scale, so while this is a one-shot story, it is quite lengthy (word count is 12,450).

Some sections have notes in parentheses, listing names of songs and artists I paired with the scenes at hand. I strongly suggest looking them up as you read, in hopes you can make your own connections to the story that much stronger.

Important Notes:

This content is strictly for audiences 18+. The roles in this story assume female readers & Tech. Concepts introduced include: dirty talk, fingering, M & F masturbation, oral sex (giving & receiving), PiV, creampie, female ejaculation, and soft dom Tech.

Summer nights on Coruscant bring one of two things – either endless, driving rain or nearly unbearable heat and humidity. Tonight is the former; the rain spatters angrily against the windows of your high-rise apartment in the Uscru District. Despite the inclement weather, the entertainment district still bustles with throngs of beings from every corner of the galaxy. You wisely choose to stay in tonight, knowing that you could have been out in any one of the district's numerous clubs, but then you remember that when it rains, the clubs become overwhelmingly claustrophobic with seas of bodies looking to stay dry.

Tech sent you a holo-message earlier in the afternoon, letting you know he wouldn't be home for dinner, as he and the rest of the guys were experiencing a few mechanical issues with the Marauder, and needed to stop for emergency repairs. You're disappointed, because it was supposed to be a stay home date night for the both of you, but you're pragmatic; machines are made to eventually break, and the Marauder is no exception.

Since you're already having dinner alone, you decide to load up your browser with half a dozen scientific journals you'd been meaning to catch up on. Pouring yourself a glass of desert wine (the real deal, too – you'd been lucky to exchange services with someone coming back from Tatooine who had a bottle directly from the Tuskens), you take your dinner and sit on the floor in the immense pile of thick, fluffy blankets you threw down to create a nest, of sorts. You know what will happen. You'll read one article. One becomes three. Three becomes six. Six becomes four hours later.

Who cares?, you think. Tech's not coming home tonight, the weather is shit, and I've nothing better to do than read and possibly get very drunk tonight. Sipping the desert wine slowly, you open the first journal, “Frontiers of Marine Science (Kamino).” You choose this one on purpose. You've been fascinated with Kamino for as long as you've been with Tech, hanging on his every word when he would tell you stories of when he and his brothers were young, and what the Kaminoans are like, although you suspect that there's a great deal he hasn't told you, and likely never will. Down the proverbial ash-rabbit hole you go...

You stare intently at the computer screen, not even cognizant of the last time you blinked. You sigh, and you realize it happened again. Glancing at the clock, you realize it's close to midnight. The wind has picked up even more, howling and threatening to drive the raindrops through the windows. You want to sleep, but without Tech by your side, it will likely be another restless night.

You get up painstakingly, stiff from sitting in one place too long, taking your dishes to the sink and washing them quickly before you turn off most of the lights, except the one that casts ambient blue-green light throughout the entire living room. The sound of the rain is spiking your anxiety and hurting your ears, so you put on some music to try and mask the sounds of the raging tempest outside.

“Much better,” you say to your empty apartment. “Now I can get back to more reading...and maybe I'll fall asleep before four? Fat chance,” you mutter.

Nestling back into your blankets, you pull your computer back in front of you and open the umpteenth article of the night. “Landscape and Urban Planning (Coruscant).” You laugh loudly at the title of this one, given the complete lack of any discernible “landscape” on Coruscant.

“Urban Planning? On THIS planet? Let's see what the so-called “experts” have to say on this topic.” As you delve into the article, you let the background music ease your mind to a more focused state. You'll never sleep if you can't quiet your mind. Tech...where are you? I need you...

(Peter Murphy – All Night Long)

You slip back into your reading easily, and it's not long before you're completely engrossed again. The state of hyperfocus takes over you so much, you don't even hear the tone of your security alarm chiming as it's being deactivated, and the front door sliding open with an audible hiss. Tech stands in the vestibule and reactivates the security alarm before removing his helmet and walking slowly into the living room, bathed in relaxing ambient light. He isn't surprised to see you're still awake; he knows when he isn't home, you rarely sleep more than a few hours.

He stops when he sees you bundled up in the middle of the floor, your computer on the coffee table, your eyes wide and glassy. He knows this look well, because as you're so fond of pointing out to him, he looks exactly the same way when he's working intensely on something. He smiles softly, and waits to see if you'll even look up and notice that he's there. When he notices you're pretty far gone, he chuckles quietly and puts his helmet down on a side table where you've got medical journals piled high. He knows better than to startle you, so he comes into the living room a little more and stops.

“Cyaré...I'm home...I am quite sorry about tonight, but we had a malfunction with the Marauder's hyperdrive and an unscheduled trip deviation was necessary. If it is quite all right with you, I would like to make it up to you...”

You don't acknowledge him and he sighs. He knows you heard him, but nothing has registered. It's been some time since you've been stuck in a hyperfocused state like this, but Tech feels like he's responsible for this one, and it's up to him to ease you out of it. “Cyaré, please...” he tries again. Nothing. His brow furrows and he walks over to the control panel that controls the audio system. The music isn't even loud, but he eases the volume down, and when the raging wind and rain outside is heard once more, it snaps you back to reality.

Blinking hard, you look up from your computer, and you see Tech standing there, arms crossed, looking down at you, and for a moment you could have sworn it was Crosshair in your living room. The switch flips in your mind and you finally realize it's Tech, and while he doesn't look exactly icy, he doesn't look at you with the warmth he normally does.

“Tech...?” you croak, your throat parched. You haven't even remembered to drink any water.

(Sundial Aeon – Iced Melancholy Spectacle)

“Mésh'la, have you been up all night waiting for me? For your sake, I hope you have not. You know how I feel when I find out that you have not been getting proper sleep. I ask you again, were you up all night waiting for me?”

Your pulse quickens as he speaks to you, for his tone is becoming increasingly frigid. You wonder if he's doing this to purposely get a rise out of you, because he knows you're incredibly easy to bait. Many times he uses this tone of voice with you before the two of you engage in sexual relations, because he learned early on in your relationship that he could send you into extended periods of arousal just through that alone.

“Yes...and no, Tech,” you reply meekly. “You know I have a hard time sleeping when you're not here, and the storm tonight has sent my anxiety into overdrive. I thought I could sit here and read until you got back...and with luck, maybe sleep a little before then.”

This answer appears to satisfy him, for he now walks over to you and sits on the couch just off to your side. You catch a bit of his scent as he sits down...metallic, earthy, sweat. Nothing you haven't smelled on him before, but longing for his presence and his touch all night turns those simple scents into potent triggers. Your pulse is still elevated from him speaking to you, and as you turn to look up at him, those beautiful golden brown eyes of his look down upon you, and his face softens with that little grin you've always found to be one of the sexiest things about him.

He leans forward slightly, resting his arms on his knees, and you can see that he's definitely tired. Tired, but not so tired that he isn't interested in spending any time with you now. As he glances at your computer screen, he can see what has to be at least a bare minimum of 30 open tabs in your browser. Moving over so he's behind you, he shifts his legs a little so you're sitting between his feet. His strong hands close on your shoulders, and before you know it, he's firmly massaging them. You've been sitting hunched over for so long, that everything feels taut and pinched.

“Y/N, please do not let this become a habit. I know your mind works very much like mine. But you need your rest.”

You can't help but groan softly as his long fingers manipulate your skin through the material of your light sweatshirt. It doesn't matter if his hands are under his work gloves, or if they're bare...there's something magical about the power of his touch that you can't get enough of. You let your head loll forward as his thumbs dig in around your shoulder blades, and this time you let something more akin to a pleasurable moan escape. Accidental, of course, but you feel like you could melt into a puddle under his ministrations.

“Mésh'la, was that what I think it was?” he asks, amused.

(EN Voice – Hold On)

“What was what?” you reply, confused.

“I think that was more than just a casual groan. Is this turning you on?”

One hand remains to work on your shoulder, but his other hand has now moved down your back slightly, and come around to the front, gently cupping your breast, then closing around it and squeezing lightly as his thumb traces across your nipple.

Your head snaps up as he does this, your back straightening up into his hand, and your eyes close, holding back the moan that desperately wants to leave your throat. This is what you've craved all night, and you bring your hand up over his, holding it lightly as he begins to flick his thumb over you, feeling the tissue grow firm under his touch. You feel a very gentle pulse in your clit, and a tiny contraction inside as he touches you, and this time you let him know how you feel, letting out a soft, feminine moan through parted lips.

“I will take that as a yes, cyaré... Don't hold back anything from me.”

This time he lets go of your shoulder, and his other hand comes around to take your other breast, repeating the process. As your drop the hand over his, you lean back against the couch, your head resting close to his groin. You look up and you can see eyes growing heavy with lust. As he catches your gaze, he takes each nipple and pinches them firmly. You gasp and feel the unmistakable heat beginning to pool between your legs. The first instinct is to reach down and lightly touch yourself, but as you move to do so, Tech takes your wrist firmly and holds it in place.

“I don't think so, mésh'la... Would you like to play a little game with me? It is something we haven't done before, but I have been thinking about it for awhile, and it would be fun for both of us.”

“What kind of game?” you ask dubiously.

“It is a game of intellect...however, there are several rules. The first is that I am the only one that may ask the questions. I know you are well versed in many disciplines, and in the interest of fairness, will keep them based in subjects you know well. The second rule is, you will only have a maximum of three minutes to answer me. The third rule is that if you answer correctly, you must remove an article of clothing. I will also remove something, starting with my armor and gear. When your clothing is gone, each successive correct answer will net you a physical action from me. The fourth rule is that if you are incorrect, or fail to answer at all, everything will stop and you receive nothing.”

“Oh, what?!” you fire back indignantly. “How is THAT fair, Tech?”

“I do believe this is called “being a tease, mésh'la... That is the correct phrase, is it not?”

You sigh a little huffily. “Yes, it is. But...you've piqued my curiosity, and more importantly, by the end of this I want both of us to be in post-orgasmic bliss. You got that?!”

His eyes widen a little at the slight aggression you fire back at him, but he can tell you've been worked up all day, and need some relief soon. He does too, because the thought of him buried to the hilt inside you by the end of the night has been on his mind all day. He feels his cock beginning to stir a little under his codpiece...no time to waste.

(Desert Dwellers & Phutureprimitive – Praise Her, the Fire Keeper (Phutureprimitive Remix))

“Move over a little, Y/N...let me sit next to you. It will be easier this way. Move the table out of the way, too. You know we're going to need the extra space.”

You smile at him cheekily as you shift the coffee table out of the way, leaving plenty of room for both of you. Those long legs of his have zero chance of having room with any furniture in the way. Images of you running your hands up the length of his body, stopping at his hips, pausing to lick and gently suckle on his cock flit through your mind and you feel your face grow briefly hot. We've never had sex in the living room yet... I wonder what kinds of questions he'll ask me?

Tech shifts the blankets around so that he can be next to you, and he stretches out his legs, letting out a groan of his own. Being cramped up in the cockpit of the Marauder all day left him just as stiff and sore as he was sure you were, being in front of your computer all night. You turn to look at him, and he smiles softly at you. What he's really thinking right now is beyond you, but you hope it's something incredibly wicked.

“Are you ready? I will set a timer for three minutes with each question. We will start with something easy, as a warm up. What is the definition of the “instar phase?””

“Tech, come on, this is super easy.” You look at his grinning face, eyes never leaving his as you give your answer: “this is the developmental stage of arthropods, such as insects, between each molt, until they achieve sexual maturity.”

“Of course, you are correct. Take off your sweatshirt, cyaré...do you have anything else on underneath?”

Without hesitation, you skin off your sweatshirt, and you're wearing the sexy black and red lace bra that Tech would have seen much earlier in the night, had he come home on time. Normally you wouldn't have bothered with a bra if you were planning on being alone at night, but you know Tech is very much a visual creature when it comes to sexual endeavors. You hear him sigh softly as he catches sight of you, and you see him pull off his work gloves, casting them off to the side. All you can think about now is feeling his bare hands on your flesh...your face, your neck, spine, and especially between your legs.

“Have I told you lately how beautiful you are, Y/N? You truly are one of the most exceptional creatures I have encountered in all of my travels.”

You can feel the heat rising in your face, and you're thankful that the ambient light in the room can hide the fact you're beginning to flush, but you know how perceptive Tech is, and he will pick up easily on other visual cues.

“Tech, I...” you begin, but you can't think of anything meaningful to say. How do you follow up after such a grand statement?

He flashes you that sexy grin of his again and you're melting inside. “Next question, love. Are you ready? What are eubacteria?”

It's been awhile since you had to discuss microbiology with anyone, but this was another easy question, and you're wondering if Tech keeps planning on asking easy questions just to get you naked faster. Not like it would bother you if that's the case, but he has more things to take off than you do...

“Eubacteria are simple celled organisms, many with rigid cell walls, often needing a flagellum for movement. They are considered “true” bacteria, along with cyanobacteria. They are often found within the intestines of animals, and can also be found in soil.”

“Very good, love, although you took a little longer to answer this time, and I know you knew the answer easily. Stand up and slowly take your pants off for me.”

Slowly, you rise, and your first inclination is to deeply stretch, because of being on the floor too long. You are tempted to make him wait, but you're afraid if you do, he might stop the game just to make you wait for another time. You hook your thumbs into the waistband of the soft, loose pants you like to wear around the house, and as your eyes lock on his, you begin to sway your hips a little and laugh as you draw your pants down over your hips, then let them drop to the floor. You've got on the matching panties that go with your bra, and you watch Tech's eyes move down to look between your legs.

You know he's wondering if you're wet for him yet, and you watch as he takes off the breastplate of his armor, and everything else off his arms. You can see the musculature of his chest through his blacks, and this time there's no denying that you're aroused. Your clit pulses with heat and you can feel yourself starting to grow wet, as you think about skinning his shirt off, tracing every line of his flesh...burying your head into the crook of his neck and showering him with hot kisses...

(Nor Elle – Silent Storm)

“So much better,” he breathes, running a hand down his chest, letting it rest on his stomach. He looks up and you and his eyes almost seem to shimmer behind his lenses. Oh yes, he's turned on. “Turn around for me, mésh'la, I want to see that beautiful ass of yours.”

You can practically hear the lust dripping in his voice now, and you comply, turning around for him. You're not wearing a thong, but there's very little material, and to sweeten the pot for him, you decide to be a tease. Curling your finger into the material, you lean forward a little and pull your panties aside, so you're completely exposed for him...and now he can see glistening moisture, inviting him home.

Hearing him groan softly and shift around a little as his codpiece suddenly becomes much more restrictive makes you smile. You know what you're doing, and you're damn good at it. Letting the material go, you turn back around and look at him. You look down and see that he's slipped his fingertips just under the material of his blacks.

“Do you have another question for me, or are you in shock right now?” you tease gently.

He laughs and removes his hand from his blacks, letting it rest on his stomach again. The urge to start stroking himself is incredibly strong right now, but this needs to be a waiting game. If he's going to make you wait, he has to, as well. He brings his knees up and puts his other hand behind his head, leaning back against the couch, trying to think of a more difficult question for this round.

“All right, this one is a little more involved, and I do not want you answering in a simplistic fashion. Tell me what happens when an individual suffers a crush injury.”

While you have plenty of knowledge of anatomy and physiology, it's been quite awhile since you've had to draw from it. You're frantically thinking back to your university courses in medical terminology and A & P, trying to remember. You are drawing a serious blank, and you look over at Tech, who smirks at you a little because he can see the creeping panic in your face.

“Time's fleeting, cyaré...you have a minute and a half.”

Fuck, come on! I know this! Why can't I remember it?!

You're looking around the room, grasping at straws, mind racing as you try to give Tech something...anything. You shut your eyes and you're not even conscious of the fact you've slipped a hand between your legs, rubbing your clit through the gossamer fabric of your panties. Tech cocks an eyebrow when he sees you doing this.

“Fascinating, my love, but you're at 45 seconds. I need an answer.”

Your heart is up in your throat, robbing you of your breath, and your voice. Still touching yourself, and feeling your clit pulse beneath your frantic fingertips, the connection is made. You don't know how, but here it is. You have to be at somewhere under 20 seconds at this point, and the minute you open your mouth, it becomes a raging torrent of words. He's not going to rob you of pleasure tonight, and if he wants an answer, he's going to get one!

“It's a reperfusion injury that appears after the release of crushing pressure. The mechanism is believed to be the release into the bloodstream of muscle breakdown products – notably myoglobin, potassium and phosphorus – products of rhabodmyolysis, the breakdown of skeletal muscle damaged by ischemic conditions. Devastating systemic effects can occur when the crushing pressure is suddenly released, without proper preparation of the patient, causing reperfusion syndrome. In addition to tissue directly suffering the crush mechanism, tissue is then subjected to sudden reoxygenation in the limbs and extremities. Without proper preparation, the patient, with pain control, may be cheerful before recovery, but then may suddenly die shortly thereafter. This sudden failure is called the "smiling death." TECH, WHAT THE FUCK?!”

The sudden obscenity catches him off guard, and he can't help but laugh at you, standing there, looking so flushed, with wild eyes and heaving chest. Just to tease you even more, he does a slow clap before speaking.

“I am seriously impressed, mésh'la... Not only did that outburst have the correct answer in it, but you clocked in with just two seconds left. I will not apologize for the question, but I will apologize for inadvertently stressing you to the point where you felt it necessary to touch yourself for me, without me ordering you to do so.”

You feel your cheeks go hot, instantly embarrassed that you've now accidentally shown Tech something you've always done when pushed to your maximum stress levels. “Tech, I...fuck. This is embarrassing. I'm...”

“You have nothing to apologize for, Y/N. I have extensively studied what can happen to people with minds like ours, when we are pushed beyond our ability to cope with certain situations. You acted well within the parameters of normal behavior. That being said, I believe I owe you something now. I'm feeling generous, so for that answer, I'll take off more than one thing.”

He gets to his feet, and seemingly towering above you, he looks down at you as he unhooks his utility belt and drops it on the floor next to the rest of his gear. You can see that his breathing is becoming a little more shallow, and you wonder just how hard he is, hidden by that infernal codpiece. Off comes the armor on those lithe, muscular legs, along with the other utility pouches. Suddenly you don't feel so close to naked anymore, but now you wonder what he'll ask you to take off first. He sits back down next to you, looking up with eyes full of wonder.

“I can almost read your mind, Y/N. I will make it exceedingly easy for you. Take off your bra; it's beautiful, but those breasts of yours are so much more so. So much so, that once it's off, I want you to show me how you play with them when you're thinking about me.”

(Sister Machine Gun - Burn)

You almost let out a tiny squeak with his last sentence, but you find yourself actively wanting to show him. Besides, once you're done playing this game, you can always ask him to return the favor, and show you how he touches himself when he's fantasizing about you. Reaching behind you, you unhook the band and slide the straps down your shoulders, letting it fall into your hand, and holding it at arm's length, you wink at him, dropping it to the floor.

Swallowing hard, and trying to ignore the fact you've mostly soaked your panties through with your juices, your hands come to your chest, one hand squeezing, while the other pinches, rolls, and tugs at a nipple. You bite your lower lip and close your eyes, thinking about Tech pulling you down to the floor, unleashing his cock and taking you right then and there. Moaning softly, you show him just how much he affects you, and through doing this, show how much you adore him.

“That's it, cyar'ika, don't be shy...show me...teach me,” his voice getting husky with deep arousal now. “Please, baby, don't stop now...”

Breasts still in hand, you step in between his slightly parted legs, nudging his foot aside to make room for you between them. Tired of standing and feeling like you're a trophy upon a pedestal, you sink to the floor on your knees, sitting back on your feet. He has an overwhelming vision of grabbing and pulling you to his chest, sinking his tongue into your mouth for a deep kiss, bucking his hips up into you so you gasp at the sudden intrusion of his cock between your outer lips...

You flash a mischievous smile at him. He caves, as his hands come to rest on your hips, pulling you closer to him so quickly that you put your hands out in front of you to keep from falling. For a moment you hope you don't come crashing down face first on his codpiece, but you manage to get your hands on either side of him, your face a hair's breadth away from it.

A harsh gasp rises from you and you look up at him. He's unperturbed by your current position, and only wishes the codpiece was off so you could kiss him through the fabric of his blacks and feel how hard he is for you.

“I've got you, don't worry. Although I do believe it's prudent I ask the next question, don't you think? No, I won't ask another question like the last one...at least just yet. You look uncomfortable down there, love. Be a good girl, and sit in my lap. Here, let me help you.” Hands still on your hips, he pulls you toward him more so you can creep your way onto his lap. You don't want to sit down on him fully because you know he's hiding a massive erection under the codpiece, but you can still straddle him. You let your hands come to rest on his shoulders and he sighs contentedly, happy to finally have you in his arms after a particularly stressful day. Wanting to return the favor from earlier, your hands begin to gently massage his shoulders, and he's so tight and knotted up, he closes his eyes and lets out a soft moan.

“Mésh'la, please...you're distracting me!”

“Me? Distracting you? If that's not the pot calling the kettle black, I don't know what is!”

“All right, I concede...so here is your next question. What is a myelin sheath?”

Finally, an easy A & P question! “The myelin sheath forms around nerves, including those in the central nervous system. Composed of fatty substances and proteins, it allows electrical impulses to travel easily along nerve cells.”

A triumphant smile crosses your face and Tech's expression softens once again, his eyes smoldering with invisible fire. You know your panties are coming off next, but it's the manner in which they'll be removed that's in the front of your mind. His hands move down from your hips to your ass, squeezing your cheeks firmly, fanning the flames of desire ever higher within you.

Your hands move from his shoulders to rest on the back of his neck, stroking the soft flesh lightly and for a moment he lets out a brief moan. In return, his fingers sink just a little lower down your cheeks toward your outer lips, and you gasp as you feel him beginning to move your panties aside. A fingertip begins to draw its way over your lips, slick with moisture. You moan his name unbidden, wanting him to sink that finger deep inside you, but he knows the game you're playing, and he's not willing to play that hand just yet.

“Not just yet, Y/N. You should know better than that. Get those panties off, NOW.”

The razor sharp edge to that last word sends chills down your spine. He releases your ass and lets you climb off him, and as you stand between his knees, you look down upon him. He's got his hands behind his head now, looking up at you expectantly.

“Take them off now, cyaré, or I rip them off you, and I'm sure you'd like to keep them intact, yes?” “Yes, Tech,” you murmur, not exactly sure you still want to keep holding his gaze.

Hooking your thumbs under the waistband, you begin to roll your panties down, skinning them off slowly in a little bit of a striptease. You swirl your hips to and fro as you part your legs just a little bit as you get them all the way down, and as you step out them, you chuck them behind you, not really caring where they land.

You feel wetness beginning to seep from you freely now, and you shift your legs apart a little more so Tech can clearly see that there's a thin bead of your juices getting ready to drip on the floor. He's never seen this particular phenomenon up close before and you smile as you watch his eyes widen in surprise, and his lips part silently.

“This is what you do to me, Tech. You make me so fucking wet, my pussy weeps for joy. All for you, baby...all for you.”

You slip a hand between your legs and let your fingers pick up your wetness before it falls. Time to show him something else you do when he's not there, and you're thinking about him... You trail your fingertips through the cleft of your outer lips, picking up a great deal of moisture. As you bring your fingers back to your mouth to suck them clean, you see Tech activating the release for his codpiece in a big hurry, and he almost whips it off to the side as it lets go, and now you see what he's been trying carefully to keep under control.

Under his blacks, you see the prominent outline of his cock, fully hard, lying long and thick, begging to be released. You can't see anything because of the material, but you wonder if he's also wet for you; you've always loved seeing him ooze pre-cum for you, and as you've discovered, he loves it when you tell him you love how wet he is for you.

“Mésh'la, I need you to move out of the way. Let me get my boots off, and then you're going to come back and stand over my face. I must taste you, before your next question.”

(Asura – Crossroads Limiter)

You waste no time stepping back to let Tech ease himself back up onto the couch so he can get his boots off, which he does in what seems like record time, kicking them off to the side before sinking back to the floor and urging you to come forward with a few short waves of his hands. Carefully planting your legs on either side of him, he lets his head rest on the back of the couch cushion and puts a hand on your thigh. He's breathing hard now and his free hand has slipped down between his legs to start touching his cock through his blacks. He doesn't want to reveal himself to you just yet, but the mounting arousal can no longer be ignored.

You have a hand on the couch's armrest for a little stability as Tech bids you to lower yourself down within reach. Another bead of your juices threatens to fall, but this time Tech is ready with his dexterous and skilled tongue, ready to catch it. His cock twitches heavily under his hand, and you can feel the heat of his breath against your outer lips as his tongue traces its way through them, picking up every bit of wetness he can, as if he's starving.

“Let me feed you, Tech...you're so hungry... Eat your fill, my love...”

He moans deeply against you as you say this, the vibrations tickling you, making you twitch and squirm. The hand on your thigh begins to close down and squeeze as his tongue probes deeper now, slipping through your inner lips, very nearly to your entrance and now it's your turn to cry out sharply. Your clit begs and aches to have attention lavished upon it, but as you slip your free hand down to start touching it, your hand is pulled away.

“Not just yet...you don't get to play with yourself until I tell you, remember? As much as I'd love to eat you out right now, go sit back down. It's time for your next question. What are the four main components of physical science? I do not need any elaboration for this response.”

“Wow, this takes me back to my high school days,” you chuckle. “Let's see if I still remember all of them!”

“You'd better, because you know what will happen if you fail...and we're too far along for this to become a disappointment, cyaré...”

You swallow hard at his response, because you know he's serious. You're both too far along now to have this be a night of completely ruined edging and orgasms. You remember two of them immediately, but the other two are escaping you, and panic begins to set in once more. He's watching you intently as he continues to touch himself, letting out intermittent moans on purpose to help keep you focused.

“Uhh, well, I remember there's physics, chemistry...I'm having trouble with the other two.”

You look over at him and he just shakes his head at you, one eyebrow raised as if to say, “you're smarter than this, and you aren't getting my help.” He lets his head rest against the couch cushion again as he strokes himself through his blacks, and the hem of his shirt has ridden up his stomach just a little. Looking down, you can see the head of his cock peeking out of the waist of his pants and you suddenly get the chills, knowing that it's only a matter of time before he lets that beast out to play.

“Time's a-fleeting, honey. You'd better hurry up, because if you want any hope of riding my cock tonight, you will answer me.”

“Goddamnit, Tech,” you mutter, trying to focus the incessant loud chatter in your brain. “Okay, it's physics, chemistry...” You look over at your bookshelves for answers, hoping there's something there that will jog your memory. Books on botany, biology, genetics...no, that's not it. Wait...biology? Terrestrial sciences...yes, that's it!

“One minute, my love. It'd be prudent if you stopped wasting time.”

Physics, chemistry, Earth sciences (like meteorology and geology), and...and...come the fuck on, I know this!

You look out the expanse of windows to see that the storm finally stopped, and the clouds are beginning to dissipate. The glittering lights of the Uscru District seem to twinkle like stars, and then the light went on. It's so simple, and it's been here the entire time! “30 seconds, mésh'la. You really like pushing your luck, don't you?”

“Tech!” You look over at him and he picks his head up, blinking a little owlishly as he refocuses on you. “It's physics, chemistry, Earth sciences, and astronomy! Told you I knew it...and you know I don't have the greatest long term memory.”

“I am aware of your memory capabilities, and know it is a limitation for you. You have done well, and you're one step closer to being fully rewarded.”

Sitting up, he pulls off his shirt, and that is a gift unto itself. You long to touch every single inch of his finely chiseled chest and abs, kiss your way from his mouth all the way down to his cock, taking him in hands free in a small display of dominance of your own. The vision is so real, you can almost taste him. He leans back against the couch and gives you that irresistible sexy grin, and one of his hands comes back down to touch himself, not caring that his cock is now peeking prominently out of his pants. He's content to stroke himself through his clothing for as long as it takes.

“Just one more question, and then the real fun can begin,” he says lowly, his voice reminding you of roiling smoke. “I've been thinking about coming home and fucking you senseless all day...so much so that Hunter asked me if something was amiss, because of how unfocused I was. You are my undoing, cyaré, but I would not trade it for anything in this galaxy, or any other.”

You feel a deep twinge of arousal deep in your chest as he tells you this, and you close your eyes and moan his name, making a conscientious effort to not reach down and touch your clit as you do so. At this point, all you want is Tech to be touching you, gently swirling his thumb on the underside of your clit as his fingers stroke your insides, bringing you to a juicy wet orgasm...

“Tech, I'm ready...what's the next question?” You reach out and gently touch his calf, stroking your fingers over the soft material of his blacks. “Please don't make this one that spikes my anxiety again, okay? I'm not sure I can handle much more of that...”

“I promise you, Y/N, it won't be a question that made you panic like that first one. I am still impressed with your response to that, by the way.” He grins at you and slowly closes his eyes, trying to think of a question that will yield a response that will tie in with all of this foreplay. You look over at him expectantly, wondering if he'll keep his word. Without opening his eyes, his silken voice flows with the query: “the arrector pili muscles are responsible for what phenomenon?”

“I think you've finally realized that the A&P questions are where I generally feel most comfortable, Tech,” you chuckle. Tapping a fingertip to your lip, you try not to glance over at Tech, who has slid one of his thumbs into the waist of his blacks, and is ever so slowly beginning to pull downwards. He's still not looking at you, but he knows that you're unable to stop watching him.

“Arrector pili...hm, arrector pili...pretty sure this one is a dermatological term, if I'm not mistaken,” you muse.

“Two minutes, love. You should be thinking much harder about the answer, than about me getting my pants off,” he fires back.

“I wasn't...! Tech, I wasn't even...”

He starts laughing at you and now he finally opens his eyes. “You're wasting time again, mésh'la! Must you always do this?”

You'd love to just say “fuck you, Tech,” right about now, but you know how well that would go over. Grasping your ankles, you rest your head on your knees as you look around the room again. There's definitely nothing here to give you any visual clues like last time. You look over at Tech, and your breath catches in your throat as you see that while you've not been focusing, he's gotten his pants down to his knees, and as you look up at him, he cocks an eyebrow and then winks as he's now got his cock in his hand, and he is fully primed. Sudden chills zip down your spine and you feel yourself breaking out in goosebumps. Wait a minute...

“Hey, Tech? The arrector pili muscles are responsible for goosebumps, also known as horripilation, piloerection, or the pilomotor reflex!”

“That's my girl...I knew you could do it. For your reference, you responded with approximately one minute left. You are going to come over here now and finish taking my pants off for me, and when you're done with that, my cock is going in your mouth. Is that acceptable?”

You know your face is flushed, and behind your eyes, you feel the strong heat of arousal burning. Tiny pulsations deep within you trigger wetness to begin flowing once more as you crawl over between his feet, and grab hold of his pants, skinning them off with ease.

Before you comply with his request to start sucking his cock, you do something that momentarily catches him off guard, as it's nothing you've ever done before. Since he's sitting with his knees propped up, you curl an arm around one of his legs and then lean against him, pressing your face to the hot flesh, closing your eyes and savoring the moment. It isn't just arousal devouring your mind and body now, it's the deep love you have for Tech.

“Cyaré, is everything all right? A note of concern is quite detectable in his voice, and he begins to reach for you. Are you feeling ill? What's the matter?”

You sigh happily. “Nothing is wrong, Tech...don't worry.” You open your eyes and look at him, smiling softly. “I love you, Tech. As you said to me earlier, you're the most beautiful creature I've ever encountered in all my travels. Now let me come and take care of you. I can't wait to have you in my mouth...taste your wetness...maybe even let you come there, too...”

He certainly wasn't expecting this reaction and for once, the chatterbox that is Tech, is silent. You giggle and then let go of his leg, moving on all fours until you're right up against him. “Let me help you, baby, please...”you plead quietly.

Guiding his cock into your mouth with one hand, you slowly ease him in. You hear his breath hitch for a moment and he moans quietly as you ease him a little farther in; your free hand knows just what it needs to be doing to make this even better for him, and as you take him in as far as you can, your other hand closes around his balls, slowly squeezing and massaging him.

“M...mésh'la, don't stop... Be a good girl and suck my cock...”

(Aquascape – Phoenix Dance) His head falls back against the couch cushion and his legs close around you just a little. One of his hands comes to rest on the back of your neck lightly, and as you begin to suck on him, you feel him stroking the flesh there, sending more chills shooting down your spine. You always love it when he touches your ears and your neck, because he knows how wet it can make you, and like clockwork, wetness begins to slowly seep from you again.

Closing your eyes to refocus, you begin to move your head to and fro, tongue gliding effortlessly along the underside of his cock, sucking hard as you reach the tip, pulling away to let the tip of your tongue flick rapidfire, eliciting a sharp cry from Tech, and the hand on your neck closes down suddenly, pushing your head back down as he bucks his hips, nestling himself back inside the safe, hot haven of your mouth.

You moan deeply as that incredible thickness fills up your mouth, the vibrations traveling all the way down his cock, earning you quick flexing and even more swelling. You'll have to be careful, or he'll come too soon, and you want to make this special night even more special for the both of you.

You release his balls from your grasp, and you pull your mouth off him, purposely leaving a long trail of saliva behind. You're going to need two hands to stroke him adequately. Inwardly, you can't help but laugh because although he's never directly come out and tell you, it drives him wild when you give him super sloppy blowjobs.

He looks down at you and your eyes meet, and when he sees your tongue connected to his cock only by saliva, he starts to breathe faster and shallower. He can't remember a time when your eyes have shone this brightly, consumed with both love and sheer primal lust. He brings a hand under your chin gently with his index finger, lifting your head up.

“Y/N, do you know how beautiful you are when you have my cock in your mouth?”

You shake your head slightly. “Tech, let me feed...I'm so hungry!”

He lets go of your chin and his hand comes to the back of your head again. He starts pushing you down and your hands guide him back in to your waiting mouth. “Eat your fill, cyar'ika, there's more than plenty...that's the way...”

Grasping his cock tightly, as you draw him farther back in your mouth, your hands corkscrew their way down his shaft, gliding easily as you purposely let saliva dribble out of your mouth. As your hands come up to meet the head of his cock, you pull your mouth away, letting one of your hands close over him, massaging and stroking the sensitive underside with your thumb.

Tech begins to slowly buck his hips, and you hold your hands still for him, closing firmly around him once more, letting him feel that indescribable tightness that mimics what it's going to feel like for him once he decides he wants to fuck you. His moans have become much more frequent and louder, and you know you're pleasing him exactly the way he wants.

“Your cock feels so good in my hands, Tech... So perfectly hot and hard... Do you want my mouth again, baby? I'll suck you dry, if you want me to... You're so fucking beautiful, Tech...I love you...”

“Mésh'la, let me go right now, I'm getting too close,” he chokes out.

Immediately, you release him and his breath comes hard and fast. You can see a light sheen of sweat building on his forehead from the strain of trying to remain totally in control and not lose himself. You scoot back on your heels a little, and put your hands on his knees. In a flash, his hands grab your hips and suddenly you're being picked up and heaved onto the couch, your legs spread wide open for him, glistening with wetness.

“Now it's my turn,” he growls, and he brings his mouth close to your entrance, giving pause to stop and smell you. His olfactory senses are not as acute as Hunter's, but he can still detect pheromones at moderate levels, and right now, the scent of your dripping pussy is almost enough to send him over the edge without even having to touch himself.

Hands gripping your thighs, he lets his tongue snake out and drag through the cleft of your outer lips, picking up the delectable salty and slightly sweet taste of your juices. You let out a gasp of surprise at the sudden intrusion of his tongue, and then you moan his name deeply when he slips his tongue farther in, letting it work its way just inside your entrance, greedy to consume everything you can give him.

You realize he never gave you permission to touch yourself, but the pulsing in your clit is driving you mad. Slipping your hand down just enough so your fingers can graze the slightly retracted hood and the lustrous pearl of your clit, you get no more than a few seconds of contact before Tech's hand comes up and seizes your wrist. He pulls his mouth away from you, your wetness smeared across his face.

“Cyar'ika, once AGAIN, you're not allowed to play with yourself unless I give you permission. Until I tell you otherwise, your pussy is mine do with what I please. Is that understood?”

You're so flustered and aching for release that hot tears begin to prick the corners of your eyes. Your voice wavers slightly as you plead with him, hoping that he'll either let you touch yourself while he works your insides, or hoping that he'll slide his cock in, filling you to your absolute limits, and bang you like a broken screen door.

“Tech, please let me touch myself, I wanna come for you so badly...”

“I'm not ready for you to come, my love. You will wait, and when it's time, you'll be given release...not a moment before. Now, where was I? Oh, yes, just about ready to slide my fingers into you. You've been such a good girl for me so far, Y/N. You will be rewarded soon, I promise.”

He lets go of your wrist and then turns to plant light kisses on your trembling thighs. His lips moving across your flesh feel like butterfly wings, and as he kisses his way down your thigh, he plants kisses on your pubic mound, before turning his attention to the treasure at the center of it all. You hold back a scream of pleasure as his mouth closes over your clit, and as he begins to suck on it, one of his fingers begins to push into you.

(Delerium - Serenity)

Your hands grope the couch cushion blindly, looking for something to hold onto as you watch him digitally penetrate you. No such luck, and you begin to swirl your hips gently in an attempt to get Tech to pick up the pace and start fucking you with those gorgeous long fingers of his. As you did to him, he now does to you, and pulls his mouth away to let his tongue flick effortlessly over your fully engorged clit, chuckling to himself as he pushes a second finger inside you.

Even now, you feel quite stuffed with just his fingers, and the thought of eventually taking his cock triggers another seep of wetness. He moans deeply as he feels the gush around them, and it doesn't take him long to find the tiny spot within your walls that when properly triggered, makes you come hard and productively.

Tech closes his mouth over your clit once again, swirling his tongue across it while alternating with sucking it like you would his cock, letting his head bob just a little bit as he does so. Your head falls back against the back of the couch as now he begins to move his fingers fore and aft within you, gently hooking the tips up so he can stroke that little sweet spot. He has no intentions of letting you come just yet, but he's more than content to edge you.

Deep seated groans of pleasure escape you as he continues his delicious torture. You feel yourself starting to grow close to orgasm, and as much as you want to come, you need him to fuck you good and hard first. “Tech, slow down, I'm getting close,” you nearly sob. You moan his name repeatedly in attempts to get him to stop, but he's purposely ignoring you.

“Cyaré, if you keep moaning any louder, what will the neighbors think?” he murmurs as he pulls his mouth away once more. He can feel your walls starting to constrict around his fingers, the telltale sign that your orgasm is getting ready to break.

The obscene squelching noises his fingers are making as he's stroking your insides is the other tell that you're ready to take him. He slows the gentle stroking and then carefully pulls his fingers out, reaching back down between his legs to start stroking himself once more, using your juices as lube.

“Fuck the neighbors, Tech, I don't care what they think!”

“I don't want to fuck the neighbors, love...I'm only interested in fucking you. Move forward just a little bit, please...” He shifts positions as you move yourself right to the edge of the couch, propping yourself up on your elbows. With cock in hand, he shows you exactly what he wants, stroking his thick length slowly, eyes locked on yours the entire time. “Tell me, Y/N, what shall I do with this, hm?”

You're trying to control your breathing, which has long since become erratic. Your face flushes with intense heat once again, and even though Tech is quite composed, it's taking every ounce of his being to stay in control. “Tech...please,” you whimper. You're not even sure how much you have left to beg him. “Fuck me, Tech, I can't wait anymore... Slide that big cock in me and fuck me senseless...”

“Are you sure, mésh'la? As much as I'm disinclined to acquiesce to your begging, there's one thing to which I cannot say no, when it comes to you.”

He doesn't wait for a reply from you asking what that one thing is, as he positions himself in line with your entrance, and slowly begins to push his way inside. This time that scream can't be held back, and your hands fly to his forearms, gripping them so hard your nails dig furrows in his flesh. He lets out a hiss of shock, rather than one of pain, and his eyes narrow. You've never been quite this way before with him, but as you pull his arms forward in an attempt to get him to push his cock in even deeper, he's more aroused than ever by this primal behavior.

His eyes close and his head falls back a little as he slides ever deeper into you, his girth stretching your inner walls to what feels like their maximum. You feel especially tight, and he can't help but let out a deep sigh, followed by an equally deep moan as you squeeze your walls around him, creating exquisite friction. It would be very easy to lose control and come inside you far too soon, but there's something he'd like to try with you tonight, that the two of you have never done before.

“Cyar'ika,” he groans, “take my cock...take all of it...you're so fucking wet for me...”

You begin to swirl your hips just as he finally parks himself inside you fully, the head of his cock lovingly kissing your sweet spot and your cervix. Letting go of the death grip you have on his arms, now you reach for his hands, closing yours around his as he begins to move. He rocks his hips slowly, watching himself move in and out of you, the sounds of your cries the finest music he's ever heard.

“Oh, Tech,” you moan airily as you squeeze his hands. “Harder...faster...this pussy's all yours, Tech. Ner cyaré...please, I love you...” You've never spoken a word of Mando'a before now, but you learned what some of the terms of endearment are, considering how frequently all of the guys used them with you.

Tech squeezes your hands hard and for a brief moment, you could swear he's getting misty eyed. “...Your accent is a touch peculiar, my love, but...it will suffice. Ni kar'taylír darásuum...”

He lets go of your hands, running his own from your hips down to your silky inner thighs. Closing his hands gently around them, he honors your request, and the lazy thrusting becomes faster and more insistent. Soon he finds a pleasant rhythm that sends you into a state of deep bliss, your moaning constant and deep.

Tech curls his arms under your legs near your hips, pulling you in closer to him as he begins to fuck you just a little harder, slipping over your sweet spot, teasing your walls to start constricting around him...calling for you to touch yourself and bring about the ultimate release... You bring your hand down between your legs one more time, giving pause before touching your hard, swollen clit.

“Tech, please...let me,” you nearly whimper. “Let me come for you...I want you to watch me come on your cock...”

He lets out a harsh groan as you squeeze him tightly, urging him to spill inside you. “Permission granted, mésh'la, but when you're at the eclipse, you must stop...” He slows his pace now, knowing that it can be difficult for you to get close to, or have an orgasm, if he's fucking you too fast. “It's all right, love, show me how you touch yourself when you're fantasizing about me...”

(Lords of Acid - Venus)

You pick up wetness on your fingertips by letting them run over his cock as he pulls back from you, stopping just before he's all the way out. He flexes hard under your touch, amazed by how sensuous you're being, moaning softly as you slowly retract the hood of your clit, the beautiful pink pearl underneath glistening with moisture. You close your eyes to help focus, as your fingertips begin to swirl over the hot nub of flesh; Tech slips his way back inside as you, exhaling sharply as he watches you touch yourself.

“That's it, Y/N, show me how...” he whispers hotly.

A deep sigh lets loose from you as your fingertips draw concentric circles around your clit, then along the sides, and finally underneath, flicking it gently like you would with your tongue on his cock. “Tech, you make me feel so fucking good...look how hard I am for you...” With each deep stroke from him gliding along your sweet spot, the pulsing in your clit continues to grow, and you know you're starting to get close. Everything pulling into a singularity, seemingly crackling with electricity...

As he watches you swirl your fingers a little harder over your clit, he instinctively knows that you're on your ascent. Your gaze meets with his once more, and his eyes are so full of love and deep desire as you share this level of intimacy with him. Faster you work yourself, and subconsciously your back begins to arch upward, your inner walls squeezing his cock like a vise.

“Cyar'ika, slow down, I can feel you getting too close,” he warns. “If it's all right with you, there's something I've always wanted to try with you...will you let me?” He starts pulling out of you as he makes sure you're not touching yourself anymore. As he does, you adopt a mock pouting expression. He's used to you doing this to him to be purposely annoying, but he's not having it now. “Don't be a little brat, Y/N, or I'll stop right now!”

You recoil slightly, and in a small voice, utter words you normally wouldn't for him: “I'll be a good girl, Tech, I promise. You can try anything with me, you know that. What do you have in mind?”

“Let me help you up, and I'll show you. I promise you, I think you will really enjoy this,” he says, getting to his feet, and taking your hands in his to pull you up off the couch. “Come on, mésh'la, follow me; we're not going far.”

He leads you around the back of the couch, then takes your hips in his hands as you wrap your arms around his shoulders. At long last, your lips finally connect in a deep, passionate kiss...his tongue slipping through your lips, moaning deeply into your mouth as your tongue collides with his. “You taste so good, my love...if I'm not mistaken, I do believe you've been drinking desert wine tonight, have you not?,” he murmurs, softly kissing the corners of your mouth, then your forehead.

You can't help but laugh at this. “Shit...you caught me, honey. But you know I can't help myself when it comes to desert wine!” Returning the favor, you cradle his face in your hands and bring your forehead to his, before kissing it gently. “So...what is it you wanted to try, Tech? The suspense is killing me,” you say, with a little bit of sass.

He returns to gently kiss you a few more times, his lips lingering just above yours as he whispers, “why don't you turn around, and I'll show you, hmm? Here, let me help you.” Suddenly, he spins you around and pushes you over the back of the couch. Yelping, you put your hands out to brace yourself as you're bent over, standing on tiptoes as Tech pushes your feet apart. You are fully exposed to him with no way to stop whatever he has in mind.

You hear him laugh softly as he drops to his knees, and then you feel his hands on your ass, kneading the flesh firmly before he begins to spread them apart. For a moment you think he's going to try and feed his cock into your ass, but instead, you feel his tongue plunge into your pussy, gathering every bit of your wetness. Back to your clit he goes, hungry mouth closing over it once more to suck and tease briefly, before pulling away and standing back up.

“I will never tire of seeing you spread open for me like this, cyar'ika... Now take my cock all the way, like a good girl!”

You moan loudly as you feel him press the thick head of his cock flush against your entrance once more. Taking your hips in his hands, he begins to push his way back in so slowly, it's agonizing. He groans deeply as your insides begin to swallow him whole, and once more, he looks down to watch himself disappearing inside you. As he buries himself all the way in, he flexes hard a few times, making you squirm and cry out as you try to get your feet on the floor.

“Don't fight me, baby... Relax, cyaré, I've got you,” he says reassuringly. You feel him pick you up by the hips just a little, relieving the stress in your legs, and now he begins to fuck you, slowly rocking his hips up against your ass, stretching your insides to the maximum. “Take my cock, Y/N, it's all yours,” he moans, as he feels you squeeze your walls against him once more, coaxing him to let go inside you.

“Tech, faster...harder...” you cry, eyes shut as he rocks you into a state of sheer bliss.

Something between a sigh and a deep moan rises from Tech as as he picks up the pace, hands gripping your hips tightly. As a moth is drawn to flame, his gaze can't be pulled from watching himself slip in and out of you effortlessly; it is an endless fascination. You hear his breathing becoming increasingly ragged the harder he fucks you, and you can feel him beginning to swell with each successive stroke. All you want him to do now is push forward with one final surge, lock himself in place, and come hard for you while moaning your name...

“You're so close, baby...come for me, please...fill me up!” you cry.

“Not...just...yet...” he groans, slowing his pace down yet again. He's panting heavily with exertion now, and his grip lessens on your hips. “There's just one more thing I want to experience with you before you and I both have our release...”

You want to scream in frustration as he pulls out of you, but you feel his chest pressing down on your back as his arms come underneath you to lift you up. Your legs feel like wet noodles, and you're afraid you'll fall to the floor, but Tech's strong hands hold you tight against him, his damp cock poking you in the back. Your heart is racing now, feeling slightly apprehensive over what he has in mind.

(Sundial Aeon – Our Eternity)

“Hold still, cyar'ika, I'm going to pick you up. Put your hands behind my neck and hold on. There's something I want you to see.” “See? Tech, what are you...agh, Tech!” you cry out as his hands come down between your legs, resting on your hamstrings as he begins to lift you up. You raise your arms and slip your hands behind his neck as he asks, your head resting against his shoulder. “Tech, this feels so strange,” you moan softly, eyes tightly shut.

“Bear with me, my love...this is new to me, too. Let us learn together,” he murmurs with his nose buried in your hair. Once he has you securely in position, he turns around and slowly moves toward the full-length mirror that is mounted on the closet. It doesn't dawn on you what he has in mind until he stops in front of it. “Look, ner cyaré...look at yourself with a set of fresh eyes.”

You open your eyes and see your reflections in the mirror, Tech looking at you with a serene, loving gaze, holding you perfectly steady, mere inches above the perfect curvature of his thick cock. The soothing blue-green light encompassing the living room serves to accentuate every curve and line of both your bodies. A small gasp of awe leaves you, as you're reeling from how beautiful both of you look.

“By the Maker, Tech...this is unreal,” you say quietly. “Look at us...”

“There are times when I feel like you do not appreciate yourself, mésh'la...as if you do not understand your importance or worth. I want you to see yourself the way I do...as a most resplendent star. With darkness spreading unchecked across the galaxy, I know your light will always guide me home.”

You feel a thick lump in your throat and you can feel yourself getting misty eyed. He's never spoken like this to you before, but you know every single last word is true. Tech is not one to mince words, nor speak half truths. Coming from the man who couldn't even hold your gaze for more than a few seconds at a time, and who was so shy that it took him months to gather the courage to ask if he could hold your hand... This is nothing but love of the highest order, girlie...if you needed any more proof of his devotion to you, this is it.

“Tech...” “Just breathe, baby. Here we go.”

With that, he lowers you down until you feel the head of his cock nudging against your entrance. Moaning lustily, your legs begin to tremble as he brings you down further on him, that beautiful heat and fullness taking over your senses once again. You watch your reflection as he fills you, clit pulsing wildly. You've never seen yourself being spread open like this and penetrated, and the enormity of how arousing this all is, is almost overwhelming.

“Fuuuuuuuck,” you moan deeply, “this pussy's all yours, Tech...”

He lets out a deep moan as he finishes lowering you into place, feeling you constrict your walls around him. “That's right, cyaré...it is!” Now you witness the extent of Tech's immense physical strength as he begins to lift you just a little so he can start fucking you. You watch the mirror transfixed, unable to tear your eyes away from watching him spear you; even in this light, you can see his cock glistening with wetness. Your clit peeks out from its hood, thick and swollen, begging to finally be caressed over the edge.

“Tech...let me come, please,” you manage to utter in between uncontrollable moaning.

“Move with me, mésh'la. I want to watch you come all over my cock... I won't let you go,” he replies gently.

With that, you start to bounce on his cock each time he thrusts upward, your eyes never leaving the mirror, watching Tech's musculature ripple as the two of you quickly find a common rhythm in your motions. You feel his chest heaving against you, breath coming hard and fast as he fucks you. It's when the low, ceaseless moaning starts that you know it's time for you to finish yourself off and give him the ultimate release.

Carefully you release one hand from his neck and bring it down between your legs. You've been edged so much tonight that an orgasm will not take very long, and you know Tech is well on his way to his, for you feel him beginning to swell just a little more inside you with each upward surge. Swirling your fingertips over your wet, hard pearl once more, the electricity returns quickly. Amplified by his cock sliding over your sweet spot, you let out a deep moan as you feel the tiny contractions beginning to swarm and intensify.

“Oh, Tech, I'm getting so close...” you groan as you tighten your grip on the back of his neck.

“I know, cyaré, don't hold back...let it all go,” he whispers. “Give me everything you have...I love you, baby.”

You feel everything beginning to pull inwards into that little singularity, every nerve ending in your clit ablaze, your very breath streaming fire. Tech slows his pace down just a little, moaning deeply as your fingers press into his neck. He can't tear his gaze away as you swirl your hips lightly, stroking your clit for all it's worth, just about at your peak. His cock swells yet tighter within you, and you know he's just about to come, too.

“Cyaré, please...”

“Tech, my good boy, I love you,” you gasp, before unleashing a near-scream as your orgasm breaks, writhing in his arms as the waves of pleasure flood your body.

His hands squeeze your thighs hard as he tries to get you under some semblance of control, before he bucks his hips up hard into you a few short times before you feel him swell to maximum within you. He buries his face against your hair as he exhales sharply, deep moans vibrating against you as he starts to come. Crying out his name as you feel him flex hard a few times, he finishes depositing the last of his seed, then immediately starts fucking you again, still riding the highs of his orgasm.

You're caught off guard by this, and your free hand comes back up around his neck to hold on for dear life. Each successive thrust means you're steadily dripping an admixture of fluids all over the floor, but you couldn't care less. Your gaze returns to the mirror, and you watch breathlessly as Tech runs blindly on sheer instinct. You're both bathed in sweat, your hair completely disheveled, and his lenses are starting to slide down his face a little... “Bear down, mésh'la,” Tech chokes out. “I want to see you push that load out.”

“Whatever you want, ner cyaré,” you reply. “Look up, baby, or you might miss it!”

Tech's attention returns to the mirror, a blissful smile on your face awaiting him. He buries his cock deep in you one last time, then quickly lifts you off him as you let your pelvic floor take over, pushing hard as his cock slips out of you. His eyes go wide in amazement as a gush of fluid comes out of you, spattering all over the floor, with some of it managing to hit the mirror, too.

You can't help but let out a gasp when you see what you've done, and then you start to laugh when you catch Tech's expression – he's completely dumbfounded. He starts to sink down to the floor, bringing you with him, carefully setting you down. Looking back at the mirror, you can see the wetness slowly rolling its way down, and you're feeling pretty proud of yourself for rendering Tech speechless. You look over at him and he pushes his lenses back into place, shaking his head a little.

“Cyar'ika... You are absolutely incredible. But I must ask...all of that...that wasn't all mine, was it?”

You grin and shake your head. “No, Tech, it wasn't. A good part of it was all mine. Pretty sure this is the first time you've ever made me do that, too.”

“Beyond fascinating,” he murmurs, tapping his index finger against his cheek. “I think I must explore this a lot more with you, if that's all right.”

You lean over and kiss the corner of his mouth softly, then slip your tongue in for a deep, loving kiss. “Anytime you'd like, Tech. I can't believe everything that's happened tonight, and I must admit, you are quite creative....”

He chuckles softly. “Contrary to popular belief, mésh'la, I do have good ideas from time to time.” Painstakingly, he gets to his feet and braces himself on the back of the couch, momentarily unsure of his ability to not collapse after all that. “Why don't you go fix up your...nest, and I'll clean all this up.”

You do as he asks, rearranging the giant pile of blankets before burying yourself within them. You feel like your entire body is glowing, radiating not just heat, but all of the love you have for Tech. Exhaustion finally sets in, and it's not long before Tech joins you in your nest, pulling you up on him so your head rests on his chest, his arm around you protectively.

“Tech? I want to do game night again some time, if you want,” you murmur sleepily.

“Oh, is that so? Even after all I subjected you to?”

“Mhmm...but next time, I get to pick the game.”

#star wars #the bad batch #clone force 99 #tbb tech #tech x reader #tech x you #tech smut #tech bad batch #soft dom tech

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braxlrose · 11 months

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Can you write about Bill having a partner that’s essentially like Avril Lavigne? That could be cool

a/n: I envy avril lavigne sooo let's do this, I scrolled all the way down through my asks and I never saw this so sorry this is so late!

edit: LMFAO IM SORRY 😭

also a shout out to @millzieraa cuz ik you lost your old account which was @krav3nn, so go check her account out you guys!!

bill w/ a avril lavigne wannabe gf who's like avril lavigne

-he literally is obsessed with the way you dress. he thinks you look so cool and yall borrow eachother clothes all the time. im not joking, he actually thinks your style is the awesome and loves how close it is to his style

-he goes to skate parks with you and watches you do a bunch of tricks. like whenever you do one and do it really good he's smiling and clapping and all this shit. he also would love it if you taught him or tried to teach me how to do some tricks.

-if you do end up teaching him some stuff he totally shows it off on tokio hotel tv

-he also loves you a lot because you and tom get along really well. you and tom are a lot a like a tons of ways so he's happy that you're able to get along with his brother. he doesn't date girls who can't get along with tom.

-would literally dieeeee if you made a song about him. like he thinks your musik is amazing so he would love it if you made a song about him.

-he also writes songs about you. he can't help it. he's just so in love with you and thinks you're the coolest person ever. he loves you so much and will write multiple songs about you.

-one of the reasons he fell for you is because you weren't afraid to be yourself and didn't want others to hide who they were either. (let's pretend avrils music is music you actually make). like the song complicated, he loves how you just want people to be themselves and not change for anybody

-he also loves how fun and accepting you are. he likes people who are fun and spontaneous and you're just that

-totally does musik collabs with you and your band

-helps you dye your hair colors

-you and your band and tokio hotel go to parties together all the time. you and Bill both get equally drunk and just make out and dance together all night

-if there's a language barrier between you two, he'll figure out a way to communicate with you

-loves watching you play guitar and tom always gets kinda jealous if you play something better than him

-you two go shopping together at thrift stores allll the time to find new cool clothes

-is literally the best at giving you birthday presents since you and him have so much in common

-he gets your name tattooed on him

-he loves going to your concerts and watching you sing and play guitar. moving around stage and just listening to your amazing voice

-he also loves it when you come to his concerts, he gets so happy when he can see you in the crowd or if you're backstage and you give him a kiss for good luck before a concert

-thought it was the coolest thing when you wrote Sk8ter Boi (let's pretend it's about tom, and that the end of the song is changed bc obviously you don't end up w/ tom). but yeah he loved it and thought it was super awesome

-the band is really important to him and since you're in the musik business you're able to understand that the band is the most important thing to him and he really loves that about you. he had his last girlfriend break up with him because she said he didn't have enough time for him so he's really glad you're able to understand how much the band means to him and everything

taglist: @hearts4kaulitz @burntb4bydoll @spelaelamela @bored0writer @fishinaband @billsleftnutt @tokiiohot @bluepoptartwithsprinkles @saumspam @5hyslv7 @billybabeskaulitz

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writersblockiskillingme · 1 year

Text

Gladiator | Jan Rozmanowski/Jann

Pairing: Jan Rozmanowski/Jann x reader (figure skater!reader)

Summary: People find it hard to believe that Jan wrote Gladiator for you and his relationship with you, but once they look in the lyrics a bit better it all makes sense.

Warning/s: swearing (twice, maybe three times), impaled smut, but not in detail, stress and pressure, possible grammar and spelling mistakes, but I really hope you will enjoy this one

Author's note: I didn't see any Jann imagines on here and we CAN NOT and WILL NOT have that... so I made one. I also kind of got inspired by the queen herself, Alexandra Trusova. Enjoy! (Requests are open)

Welcome to the party, say hi to everybody

Paid for by Martini, but they're sippin' on Bacardi

Body's more than just a flesh, you can sell it for success

What's your price what's your address? We can finish at my place

Sometimes it can get really hard. You were a famous figure skater and it meant that you had to give up a lot. Like a lot. You could make some friends, sure, but it will never last. Figure skating is truly a very competitive sport and it would mean that you had to go up against your friends most of the time. So yeah, it never ends well. One always gets hurt and, as selfish as this may sound, you always had to make sure that you wouldn't be the one to get hurt.

You kind of lost all of the interest about the party that you were attending right now. You just felt so tired from the late practice last night that you felt like you could easily doze off right here. You found yourself leaning against the bar corner as you drank the last drop of your Bacardi, even tho you paid for a Martini. However, when the bartender brought you the wrong drink you didn't want to be one of those people so you didn't tell him anything. Plus you really couldn't care less as long as you get a little alcohol in your system to try and wash away all of the shit that was currently going on. The preparations for the World Championship was truly killing you, eating you outside out.

As you ordered yourself a new round of Bacardi, you noticed the guy standing next to you.

You didn't really know what was it. The alcohol? Your fucked out drunk as fuck brain? Or perhaps it was the tiredness from the bone crushing training with zero percent of sleep? In any case, whatever it was, you noticed one thing. The guy was drop dead gorgeous, it surprised you that he was alone nursing a bunch of Margaritas. His hair was dirty blonde, almost brown. His eyes looked so tired, but they still held a beautiful kind of joy. He looked so tired, too. You noticed the way he was lightly gripping at the glass that he was probably a bit drunk, too. You also noticed that he was so freakishly tall. It all confused you. You thought that it was ridiculous. How can somebody be so bloody drop dead gorgeous?

Maybe it was alcohol after all because you suddenly got a wave of self encouragement and you found yourself slowly stepping towards him. Something was simply pulling you towards him. You simply felt like you need to get to know him. It surprised you. You weren't usually the one to step forward, it flooded you with nervousness. Plus, considering your occupation, you didn't really have much time to get yourself a boyfriend, but it felt like it would be nice. All you had to do entire day was wake up, eat if you have time, practice, quick break, more practice, shower, rihurse, eat, sleep. On Fridays you allowed yourself to get drunk just enough so you could forget it all, but you thought that it would be nice. You know?

To have someone who is not putting even more pressure on you, to always be there for you, no matter what. To encourage you, to be there for you, to cheer you on, to make you happy. Somebody who will be proud of you no matter what. Someone who will be there when the pressure and the expectations get to much. When you break down. Someone to hold you. To see you as you. To love you. And, weirdly enough, you felt this towards that unknown guy you just saw, but you didn't now that he was actually looking at you the entire night. Watching you drowning yourself in a drink that you didn't even order, but were to nice to say anything to the bartender. He was watching you perform for a bit, too. He found you very talented. Very gorgeous.

However, before you could make a few steps towards him, from the spot in which you were standing in, you were suddenly swarmed with the crowd.

It lasted long enough it seems like, you thought to yourself. It was just a matter of time before somebody would approach you. In the corner of your eye, you saw him smirking at you, his face saying "amusement". Your eyes met and he got up, to your surprise. People around you were yelling, dancing, drinking, the crowd stared to make small talk, but your eyes were still just on him. He knew it, too. He stopped walking when he reached the end of the crowd. Your eyes filled with realization and a bit of amusement. Once you finally said hello to everybody, you will reach the one you want to get to know the most right now. And so you started with the talk.

After a long while, you felt like you got hit by a truck. You were still talking, still drinking, still faking. Just as the last person finally went away and the last photo got taken, at that moment approached you the person you wanted the most. He ordered himself and you a Martini and you got to chit-chat.

"I must say." He began as the bartender placed two Martinis in front of you. "I feel so honored that you found time to talk to me."

"Yeah, sorry about that." You suddenly your cheeks felt hot and you realized that you were blushing.

"No, it's good. But I must say you look even more gorgeous when you blush." He gave you his signature smirk as he took another sip of his Martini. At that, you felt like your face was red as a tomato.

"By the way, I saw your performance in Amsterdam three days ago." He said and you couldn't help but to look up at him in surprise. God he was so tall. "Those two flips that you did... I can see that you are very skilled." He gave you another compliment as he took another sip of his Martini. You felt so honored, he had seen you perform, he thinks your skilled. Somehow it felt like a big commitment. Somehow, someway, his opinion mattered to you.

"Really?" You started, suddenly feeling very bold. "I thought that the part where I did that Cantilever was gonna be your favorite."

"Oh, trust me it is." He gave you a wink as he continued to talk. "It looked really good, darling." He said, his Polish accent coming on strong.

"Well, what can I say. It had to be good. However, sometimes, the body is more than just a flesh, but in many things you can sell it for success." You winked back at him as you said that. "But you have to have some talent, too."

Both him and you knew one thing, though. If you continued to drink as much as you do right now and talk the way you were talking right now, you will probably end up finishing this conversation at his place.

Ever been to Bali? I really need some sun

Such a shame 'bout that tsunami, I'll have to go to Cali

I can get you dressed, wrap your body in excess

Give them something to obsess over

It felt so good. You were talking about everything and about nothing. He told you that he wanted to visit an island called Bali, but a day before his flight he saw the news about the island being hit by a tsunami so he decided to go to Cali. He also told you that he was a professional song writer and a singer and that he wanted to make another song, but didn't really have an inspiration.

You were telling him about the struggle of your sport and that you felt like all of the weight of the expectations were slowly, but surely crushing down on you. But you also told him about the fun part of your job, the costumes, the song and choreography choice. You enjoyed that, he could tell so, too. From the way that you were talking about it, he felt like he could listen forever.

"My coach is putting so much pressure on me. It gets to much, sometimes. Like I'm not famous enough. It gets on my nerves so much sometimes. I can't even go to a grocery store, most of the time somebody will recognize me!"

You complained and he listened. He listened and gave his opinion and you knew that he felt the same and it hurt so much. You felt like you had fallen in love, it was ridiculous. But at the same time it wasn't.

After a while he pulled you towards the middle of the dance floor. You were laughing and dancing and singing along. You didn't feel this relaxed and this happy for a long time. It felt like drugs. You just couldn't get enough and you never wanted it to stop.

Jan placed his arms around your waist as you danced and just had fun. You pulled each other closer as you danced. You could smell his cologne as you hid your face in his neck. He smelled like the finest air, alcohol and cigarettes. It was a weird combination, but it was so comforting, you felt like you could only breathe that astonishing smell for the rest of your life. Pretty soon, you tangled your hands in his hair as he played with the edge of your dress.

"They are taking photos of us." You found yourself whispering in his ear. You could practically feel the smirk he directed to you.

"It's fine." Jan laughed a bit, amused. "A figure skater and a singer. That'll give them something to obsess over."

You'll love it when I give it to you, leave you wanting more

I know your addiction's attention, let's start a show

Is it everything and more than you were hoping for?

Show us something we ain't never seen before

Jan and you were dating for two months now, and you had to admit that it was the best relationship that you were ever in. It went so much better than you thought it would. He was your number 1 supporter and you were his. He came to your every performance just like you came to every gig he had. You were always cheering him on just like he always cheered you on.

You just got off the practice, you were supposed to have a few days off and you couldn't wait to go away. You couldn't wait to leave rehearsals for a while, to leave your coach for a while, to leave the public eye for a while. You just couldn't wait to go get out of the building and crash at Jan's place. As you got out of the rehearsal, the first person you saw was your gorgeous boyfriend.

The moment he saw you he gave you your water bottle and despite your protests took your bag and slang it over his shoulder. He put his arm around you and led you to the car as you drank your water. You couldn't wait to get to his house. And, boy, it was worth the wait.

The moment you walked in he had you pressed against the wall, kissing you passionately. You tangled your hands in his gorgeous hair as he mumbled "jump" against your mouth. You did just that. Jan's arms wrapped around your legs as he walked upstairs towards the bedroom.

He gently placed you down, his lips never in the wildest dreams leaving your lips. Jam continued to kiss you as both of you slowly got rid of your clothes. After you were both pressed against each other, skin to skin, he pulled away for a short while.

"You'll love it when I give it to you. I'll leave you wanting more." And that wasn't a threat, it was a promise.

Smash your competition, baby

Show us some good entertainment

Victory's your only payment

Gladiator, gladiator

You were so bloody nervous, you felt like you were about to throw up or explode or something. You were messing around with the end of the red costume you were wearing, a white jacket was slung over your shoulders to protect the costume.

Jan immediately noticed what was wrong and quickly brought you into a hug. He didn't say anything for a while, he was just slowly rocking you back and forth in his arms.

Jan felt you tighten your arms around him. You felt like crying. He knew it. He pulled you even closer, afraid that you would disappear or that a messy cloud of fear and anxiety that was hanging above your head would cover you completely. The smell of his cologne calmed you down a little bit, but you still felt like you would much rather just crowl into a hole and die.

"You can do this." Jan pulled away as he placed both of his hands on each side of your face. "You can land 5 quads, you can win the World Championship. I know you can." It seemed like his words of encouragement did little to settle down the nervous pit that was constantly, slowly, painfully growing inside of your stomach.

"But, what if I-?"

"Even if you don't." He gave you a look. "Even if you don't it will still be like you did. For me you did. For your whole country, for your family, for your friends it will be like you won."

You nodded your head slowly, nervousness calming down a little bit. He slowely copied your action and nodded his head, too. You gave him a smile, a silent "thank you" for slicing that into you.

"Now go out there and show them something they have never seen before." He said and you pulled him in a quick kiss before your coach called you.

"Thank you, Jan." You whispered before you left. Jan smiled as he watched you go, shining with pride as he walked away to get to his seat.

Welcome to the party, I know it's kinda funny

That everyone is acting like they know you personally

Just play along, be nice and all

You won't get far being on your own

Your makeup was a bit ruined, but it didn't matter because you did it! Everything that you were working on your whole life had come true. You won the World Championship and you made history by landing 5 quads.

You grabbed your trophy and took pictures with the girls who got 2nd and 3rd place. But there was this bubbling excitement in your chest. You just couldn't wait to get off of the platform and to celebrate your victory with the person who supported you the most. Jan.

The moment that you saw each other, you ran to one another and Jan lifted you from the ground as he kept spinning you around.

"I'm so proud of you, baby!" He said as he attacked you with kisses. "My world champion!"

Later on you walked into a celebration party. Everyone was chatting with you, congratulations were shot at you from miles away and everyone was talking to you like they truly know you. After a while, you called it quits and left with one arm wrapped around your trophy and with other arm wrapped around your greatest treasure.

"I find it kind of funny, you know." Jan spoke up as you walked towards the car with you. "Everyone was talking to us like they knew every single thing about us."

"I know. But you know what?" You tightened your arm around him as you gave him a light, tired smile. "You really should always be kind to everyone. On this world you can't do it all on your own. So thank you, Jan. For your support."

"Baby, you are my greatest prise."

#jann #jan rozmanowski x reader #jann x reader #jan rozmanowski #eurovision song contest #eurovision 2023 #imagine #jan x reader #x reader #songfic #gladiator #jann gladiator #Spotify #fic #why is he so gorgeous #why is he so precious

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velvethopewrites · 8 months

Text

The sob story with this is that I wrote this yesterday and it got deleted before I could save it. I wanted to die cry, basically. Somehow I managed to re-create most of it, after working on it all damn day. (I basically ended up writing over 6,000+ words in one day. Yowza) I still feel as though the first version was better, but…no one knows that but me, I suppose. (And my partner, who got to read it right before the horrors happened). Regardless, I am proud of this and proud of myself for not giving up when it really would have been easy to. So huzzah to the fickle hand of fate and all that stuff.

For Suptober 2023 prompt “starlight”

I tag @fellshish and @canonblastedships and @clarkenting for being super cool reblog buddies, lol (which is just a thing I made up) This is the longest destiel fic I’ve written yet and it will be my first official AO3 destiel! (As soon as I remember how to do that, oy)

Edited: Now with Spiffy AO3 Link! Here!

The Starlight

There were three types of people that visited the Starlight Lounge — drunks, people desperate to score, and the employees that made their bread and butter trying to tame the other two.

Dean Winchester, unfortunately, was a member of that third group. Oh, sure, Dean had been known to put away a fair bunch of liquor in his day, and sure, Dean had definitely been known to do the Bedroom Rodeo whenever the opportunity presented itself. Hell, back when he’d first started at the Starlight he’d often been three types at once. Work, drink, get laid. Sometimes, not even in that order.

But that was past Dean. Current and newly mature Dean (hah) just wanted to work, go home, eat and fall into his bed. Working at the Starlight wasn’t that bad – it had fairly decent pay and it was often interesting. And like everyone else, Dean had bills to pay and he gave more than his fair share to Sammy. Not that Sam really needed it anymore; he was busy working as a law clerk downtown, putting himself through school. But still, Dean wanted to help as much as he could and besides it was his brotherly duty. Heh. Duty.

Tonight, due to the cold and rainy weather, the bar was fairly empty and business had been slow. There was only one of his regulars, a writer by the name of Chuck crying into his notebooks at the back of the bar. To be honest, Dean had never seen Chuck write a damn thing but the man sure could put scotch away like a pro. There was also a young couple making out in one of the booths near the restrooms. He’d been keeping an eye on them most of the night, actually, making sure no one lost any clothing. The Starlight didn’t need a public indecency charge on the books. At least, not so soon since the last one, at any rate.

Dean yawned and finished cleaning up the bar, hoping Chuck and the couple on their way to Soft-Porn Town would soon be leaving. Maybe Dean could even push them on their way a bit early, so he could get home at a decent time, for once. As he walked over towards Chuck to perhaps lightly suggest the writer hit the road, the double doors of the bar blew open – bringing in the rain, the cold rush of the wind and a new customer in a beige trench coat with seriously fucked up hair. Great.

Dean sighed and turned back around as the new guy slumped onto the first stool at the bar. His dark brown, messed up hair looked even worse up close, and he had a scowl on his face as he glared down at the bar in front of him.

“Whiskey. Neat,” Messy-Hair said, voice low and very rumbly.

Dean pulled down a clean glass and poured some of their nicer whiskey into it. Dude looks like he could afford it, at any rate. He had a nice suit on under the coat, now that Dean could properly see it and his watch was one of those big clunky things that could probably tell the time on Jupiter or some shit like that. The man’s hand reaches for the glass before Dean has barely pushed it forward. He throws back the drink in record time and hits the bar with it so that it makes a loud thunk.

“Another one.”

Dean shrugged as the man kept glaring down at the bar as though it contained all the answers to life and everything else; Dean knew for a fact that it didn’t. It didn’t even have a ‘42’ scratched into it or anything. (RIP Douglas Adams)

This time the man just wraps his hand around the glass, his fingers clutching at it and woah, Dean thinks, dude’s got some huge fucking hands. They’re big and they’re strong looking. The fingers are nice and long and graceful and oh, oh, oh. Maybe it’s a kink, or maybe it’s a preference, but Dean loves hands. Manly looking mitts like Messy-Hair here and even smaller, more delicate hands like on most women, with pretty nail colors. But Dean’s not choosy.

He sees motion out of the corner of his eye and notices Chuck signaling that he’d like to pay up. Glancing at Messy-Hair he figures he has a few minutes before having to pour him another so he sets the bottle down and heads over to the other side.

“All right there, Chuck?”

“Yeah, yeah, thank you, Dean.”

The older man is flipping through his wallet and counting out his cash slowly. Dean wipes the bar and puts Chuck’s last glass into the bucket for later cleaning.

“Write anything tonight?” Dean always asks this question. It’s like a little game he and Chuck play because it always has the same answer.

“No,” Chuck says looking up at him. He places his finger to his temple solemnly, almost like he’s holding a gun. “But I did a lot of work up here.”

He always gives Dean this look as though Dean should know exactly what he’s talking about. But, of course, Dean never does. He likes to read but he sure as hell would never attempt to write. Personally, he thinks Chuck is sort of crazy, but hey, to each their own, right?

Chuck pushes his notebooks into his old canvas bag on the bar. It’s bulging with everything he carries with him and looks fit to burst. Dean supposes that writer’s block is heavy business.

Chucks nods goodnight as he slips his bag over his shoulders, buckling a bit under the weight. Dean watches as he wobbles away and he’s not sure if it’s from the alcohol or the bag. He’d normally be worried (hey, no bar can stay in business if all its clientele got themselves killed), but he knows Chuck lives nearby. He’ll be all right and probably in his same spot tomorrow evening. He puts Chuck’s money into the till and realizes he tipped Dean more than usual. He really did have had a good night, then.

He notices the couple trying to break the world record for smooches in a single night are getting up and putting on their jackets. Maybe Dean can get out early; he’s got the DVR set for Dr Sexy already, but he wouldn’t say no to catching it live for once.

Glancing over he sees Messy-Hair is now resting his head on the bar, but he lifts it as the doors bang shut behind Chuck, the cold burst of wind making his hair looking even more disheveled. Dean heads back over to see if he needs a refill and is suddenly struck dumb by the other man finally looking at him. Holy Mother of Blue, those are some eyes. The dude is handsome. Like old-time movie handsome. Strong jaw, with a smattering of scruff, pink soft lips and eyes that look like they can see into your soul, no, scratch that, not see, but pierce. Dean swallows roughly and picks up the whiskey bottle.

“Hey, uh, it’s getting late. One more for the road?” Dean assumes the dude doesn’t know the Starlight is technically open until midnight. Assumes, hah. More like prays.

Blue-Eyes stares at him and frowns. “I thought this establishment closed at midnight.”

“Er, yeah. I suppose it does.”

“Then I’ll take another,” Blue-Eyes pauses and holds out his glass. “And keep them coming for the next forty-five minutes, barkeep.”

Dean blinks at the old-fashioned word and pours another round. They stare at each other until he hears a giggle and a clearing of a throat. He looks over to see the couple and wonders how long they’ve been waiting. Judging from the churlish look on the guy’s face and the barely contained laughter emanating from the girl, it’s been awhile. He settles their tab and takes their money (lousy tip, of course) as the two saunter past Blue-Eyes and escape out into the night. Well, at least Dean can see it’s stopped raining.

Making up his mind, he follows them from behind the bar and locks the door after them. He flips off the sign, too. He may be stuck here with Blue-Eyes, but he’ll be damned if he’ll let someone else come meandering in to make him get home even later.

He comes back to stand in front of his customer and makes a decision. Pulling down another glass, he pours some of the whiskey into it and sighs as the warmth of it hits his system. What do they always say about good whiskey? It should warm the cockles of the heart, or something like that. Not that Dean actually knows what a cockle is, but hey, it went down smooth.

He realizes Blue-Eyes is watching him and Dean decides to bite the bullet. He’s tired, bored and probably on his way to cranky town if Blue-Eyes keeps his word about the next forty-five minutes.

“So, what brings you out on a cold and rainy night like tonight, Mr, uh…what’s your name? I can’t keep calling you what I’ve been calling you in my head.”

The other man squints and tilts his head at Dean like a tiny, confused bird. And no, Dean doesn’t find that adorable at all. Nope.

“What have you been calling me in your head?”

Dean purses his lips. Sometimes he’s really an idiot. He gives Blue-Eyes a shaky laugh.

“I said I wasn’t gonna keeping doing that.”

They stare at each other again, neither one budging until Blue-Eyes releases a breath and blinks, shoulders slumping a bit more. By the end of the night Dean expects this guy to be melted into the floor.

“Cas.”

Dean frowns. “Your name is Mr Cas?”

“No, just Cas.” Blue-Eyes, no, scratch that, Cas then holds out his hand so Dean can shake it like they’re fellow professionals meeting at a party or something. As he grips the other man’s hand in his own he realizes Cas’s hand is warm, dry, and, yep, strong. The dude is seriously ticking all of Dean’s boxes without even trying. It’s a bit unnerving, really.

“Is that short for something?” Dean asks, wondering what type of name that is.

Cas just looks at him over the rim of his glass. “Perhaps.”

Neither of them say anything else for a long moment and Dean shakes his head. “People ever tell you you talk too much?”

“Yes. All the time,” Cas says with a smirk.

Dean laughs. “Well, whatever. It’s officially nice to meet you, Cas. I’m Dean. Humble and professional barkeep at your service.”

“Hello, Dean.”

Cas’s voice is deep but there’s a warmth to it that makes Dean happy. They chit-chat for a bit, just like Dean would do with any newbie to the bar. He pours them both another round and then tries his question again.

“So, you seemed a bit upset earlier. What brought you through my doors, Cas?”

Cas sighs and glances away. He taps his fingers lightly on the polished wood of the bar. He stares at Dean as though assessing him and then looks as though he’s made up his mind.

“My…er, the person I’ve been dating, dumped me tonight. We went to an expensive restaurant and ordered far too pricey food for the serving size and drank outrageously fancy wine. Then they ordered an expensive bottle of cognac, drank it all and then told me I wasn’t worth it.”

Dean winces. “Ouch. How long were you together?”

“Six months.”

“Well, it’s not too long for a relationship, but it’s long enough to hurt.”

Cas nods, looking sullen again.

“What special occasion was it?”

Cas stares at him. “How could you possibly know that?”

“Fancy restaurant, the way you’re dressed, the cognac. Nobody orders that unless there’s been a birth or an anniversary or both.”

“It was my birthday,” Cas says, looking down again.

“Fuck,” Dean blurts out without thinking. “And they dumped you? Seriously bad juju, man.”

Cas nods and takes another drink of his whiskey, looking miserable. Dean tops off both of their glasses and hums.

“What was his name?”

Cas whips his head up, suddenly looking confused and more than a little worried. “I never said it was a he.”

“It was your distinct lack of pronouns, dude. Always the dead giveaway. Trust me, as a guy who plays for both sides, I know. Pronouns are key. Hey, relax, Cas, this is a safe space.” Dean points to the small pride flag he keeps above the bar and watches as Cas visibly relaxes.

The silence that falls between them is comfortable now. Welcoming, even. Cas clears his throat and rests his hand on his chin, peering at Dean.

“So…you’re bi, I assume or, pan, perhaps?”

“Got it in one. Just another bisexual loser ruining the world one lay at a time.”

Dean winks to show he’s only kidding. He’s proud to be bi, but it doesn’t mean he can’t make a joke at his own expense. Of course, if Sam or his friend Charlie were here they’d both tell him what they thought of that.

“His name was Bartholomew.”

Dean snorts. “It fits him. Douche-y name for a douche-canoe.”

Cas barks out a laugh and it completely changes his face into something truly beautiful. Dean suddenly feels the need to always make Cas laugh like that. He can’t imagine anyone not wanting to – his laugh is infectious. And the light it puts in his eyes is irresistible.

Cas looks serious again as he swirls the rest of the whiskey in his glass. “To be honest, Bart was just the last in a long line of failed…connections. I’m doubting my own self-worth at this point. Everyone ends up leaving or they get fed up with me. I’m too introverted…too socially awkward to deal with, I suppose.”

“I don’t know, you seem to be doing okay right now.”

“I’ve been drinking,” Cas says, deadpan. “And also I’m paying you.”

Dean chuckles. “Not really, I decided to stop charging you as soon as I poured my first one.”

“Your hospitality know no bounds. Truly.”

Dean laughs. Cas’s dry delivery and poker-faced expressions really are the limit. He feels that familiar warmth he always gets when he meets someone new. A someone new that excites him. But he pushes the feeling aside because he knows on some level that trying to get into Cas’s pants is so not what the other man needs right now. Dean shivers as he realizes how damn mature that sounds. Next he’ll be looking into 401ks and cemetery plots.

“Well, consider them birthday drinks. Of course, this stuff doesn’t cost a small fortune or anything, but I figured you’d already paid out enough tonight.”

Cas smirks and shakes his head at Dean. “Thank you, Dean. It’s actually very kind of you to…take pity on me.”

He says it jokingly but Dean gets the sense that he means it. He reaches forward and touches Cas’s hand.

“Hey, no pity here. You are ridiculously attractive and if I didn’t have a conscience, I’d definitely be throwing out my best lines here to help you relieve some tension, if you know what I mean. And you are not awkward to me, but even if you were, it wouldn’t be enough to stop me from asking for your number or seeing if you wanted to meet up sometime. I barely know you but you seem like a decent guy, Cas. And I think all of those people that don’t get you can just fuck right off. You need to keep trying, man. Don’t give up just because a few losers couldn’t see what they had.”

Cas blinks at Dean, blue eyes getting huge. “You think I’m ridiculously attractive?”

Dean thinks back. Did he say that? Yeah, he said that. Figures that would be the only thing to register with the dude.

“What sort of line would you use on me? I mean, if you were going to, that is.” Cas shyly glances away and then back, a curious look on his face.

“Oh, uh, probably something like, well you know what they say — the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else.” Dean waggles his eyebrows and smirks, faking a leer.

“I’m not sure that would work with me,” Cas says, mirth clear in his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah. You’d make me work for it, I know. But seriously, you need to regroup, clear out the douche-canoes from your life and find a new guy, man.”

Cas smiles at him in fondness, and nope, Dean is not going to do it. He will not break his rule about dating people just out of relationships. Not even for big huge blue eyes that make him feel sappy like a love song. Cas, however, clearly has other plans.

“This may be forward but, um, Dean would you allow me take you out for dinner? As a date, in case you were wondering how I meant it.”

“Oh, wow, Cas, um, I mean…”

Cas’s face takes an interesting journey in two seconds – from hopeful joy to miserable and wretched. Dean feels his heart break a little bit for him in that moment and mentally kicks his own ass for being a tool.

“Oh, I see. I…I’m sorry, Dean. Thank you for hospitality.” Cas fumbles with his wallet and places far too much money next to his glass. “I won’t keep you anymore. Go home and enjoy whatever is left of your night.”

Dean watches dumbly as Cas sits up straighter and then turns in his seat, his broad shoulders unyielding, suddenly. Dean knows he just can’t let it end like this.

“No, wait, Cas!”

Dean practically flings himself around the bar to reach Cas before he can unlock the door and leave without a backwards glance. He rests his hand on Cas’s shoulder, stopping him.

“It’s only because I have a rule about dating people that just got out of a relationship. It has nothing to do with you, I promise you. You need to focus on you, dude. Figure out what you’re looking for. If this one was just the last in a long line of guys who don’t understand you, try and see what people you’re going for. I mean, I’m no expert, and God knows I’ve had my fair share of jumping before looking moments, but I think you just need some Cas time right now, you know? If we ever start something I do not want to be rebound guy and you deserve something better than a one night stand.”

Cas stares at him, blue eyes half in shadow. Dean holds his breath, hoping he didn’t just lose something. All he can hear is the clock ticking behind him and the pounding of his own heart in his ears.

“That was quite the speech,” Cas finally says. “You sound like you know from experience.”

“Cas, man. You have no idea.”

“I have some, like I said, a long line of rejections. Still…” Cas’s eyes search his face and then nods to himself. “Maybe you’re right. I do tend to do things without thinking in this area of life despite being very practical usually. And you’re also right on anther point, Dean. You do not deserve to be “rebound guy”.”

Dean can’t help his grin as Cas makes the quotes motion with his fingers. They stare at each other for a bit longer before he unlocks the door. Cas steps out as the cold air filters in between them, causing them bother to shiver. Dean pauses, and then holds out his hand. “Let me have your phone.”

“My phone?”

“Yeah, you have one, right? Or have you moved on to something flashier like sky writing?”

Cas snorts and shakes his head. He fumbles in his pockets and then pulls out a slim, black smartphone. He unlocks it and hands it over. Of course, it’d be that kind of phone that can help you bake bread or turn off all the lights in the world with just a click or something. He finally finds what he’s looking for and puts his contact information in.

“There. There’s my number. Text me to let me know you get home, okay? And as for the rest, we’ll take it one day at a time, Cas. Let’s be friends, first.”

Cas smiles shyly as he looks down at his phone and nods. “Friends, first. I like that. Goodnight, Dean.”

“Goodnight, buddy. Be safe.”

Cas slips out and away, leaving a coldness in his wake as he takes his body heat with him. Dean watches him go, the black of the night almost swallowing him up. Cas pauses to pull his coat tighter, the glow of the streetlight lighting up his profile. To Dean he looks pure—angelic, almost, like a painting or a sculpture. With one last look at Dean, he eventually fades away, disappearing back into the world. Soon all Dean can see is his own breath in the air and the twinkling starlight from the surprisingly clear sky above. He locks up again and finishes his routine for the night. After he’s put the money in the safe and headed out back to his car, he feels happy inside. Like something good just occurred — like some new path has been cleared for him to travel. His drive home is quick and easy, there’s hardly any traffic mostly due to the earlier rain. It’s just as he’s pulling into his driveway that he feels his phone buzz in his pocket. It’s from an unknown number and his heart beats faster as he reads the message.

From unknown: I arrived home safely, Dean. Thank you, again. Would you like to get coffee tomorrow, or, perhaps I should say, later today? Oh, this is Cas, by the way. In case you didn’t know. :)

Dean saves the number and then returns to the message to reply, a grin creeping onto his face before he even realizes it.

Dean: Of course, dude. Coffee sounds great. Around 1pm?

Cas: Perfect. Do you know the Blue Java Café on Marion and Elm? It’s across from the park and one of my favorite places.

Dean: Sounds good. Can’t wait to talk to you sober, ya lush… (lol j/k hah)

Cas sends him a sticking-tongue-out emoji as a response and Dean chuckles as he locks up his car. He has a nice, happy feeling in his heart as he thinks of Cas. Like maybe this is something special. Or maybe it’s just that it could be and has the potential to be. He knows he told Cas friends first, but Dean’s willing to see where it…where they, can go.

#suptober23 #destiel #prompt:starlight #dean and cas #meet-cute #my writing #biting nails here #like posting stuff is scary #wth #I am not used this anymore #castiel #dean winchester

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